JDM As Fuck

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40

But you've slipped under my skin, invaded my blood and seized my heart.

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Find other parts here

I slipped out of bed slowly, careful not to wake Negan. He’d barely slept properly in days, so I wanted to give him as much rest as I could. I quietly pulled my jeans on, shoved my feet into my boots without bothering to lace them, and tossed my jacket over my shoulders before easing the door shut behind me with a soft click.

The cool morning air hit my face as I stepped outside the main building at Hilltop. The sky was just starting to lighten, soft shades of blue and grey stretching across the horizon.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a cigarette and my lighter. The first drag burned slightly, filling my lungs as I let out a tired breath and rubbed my tired eyes, Negan and I had stayed up way too late laughing and talking after I was done with him. 

My stomach knotted at the thought of him last night, head back against the pillow, eyes shut, his hand tight in my hair, guiding my head up and down, moaning my name as I took him deeper into my mouth. It was the hottest sight I’d ever see.

My cheeks flushed at the memory, and I tried to shake it off, taking another drag of my cigarette. I wanted him so badly last night, the need to feel him was getting harder to brush off, but he was healing. I needed him to heal, to be okay, to be alive.

“You’re out here early today.” The voice came from behind me, calm and familiar.

I turned to see Jesus standing a few feet away, coffee cup in hand, his hair pulled back into a loose bun like usual. He gave me a small, knowing smile.

“Yeah,” I shrugged slightly. “Figured I’d sneak a smoke while Negan was still sleeping.”

“Mmm,” he hummed softly. “And how is he doing? …Be honest.”

“Better. Much better,” I said, meaning it. “And… thank you, for the hospitality. For everything you’ve done for both of us.”

He tilted his head a little, studying me the way he always did like he could read more than I was saying.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said gently. “That’s what Hilltop’s for. Helping people get back on their feet… even the difficult ones.”

A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “Especially the difficult ones.”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah… that’s Negan, I guess.” I took another drag, then let the smoke drift out slowly. My tone shifted, more serious now, “and I know it hasn’t been easy.”

He stayed quiet, giving me space.

“Having him here. Working with him… after what he did to you, to your community… to us. I know that kind of thing doesn’t just disappear.” 

I glanced down at the ground, then back up at him. “But I appreciate it more than I can explain. He’s trying, Jesus. He really is, he wants to be better… to stop ruling with fear.”

There was a long, thoughtful pause between us.

“I know taking down Alpha and helping with the Whisperers doesn’t fix the past,” I added softly. “But it’s a start. And he’ll keep trying, to fix things, to work together, to build something better… a future we can actually feel safe in.”

“Safe enough,” I finished quietly.

Jesus exhaled slowly, his eyes still on me thoughtful, conflicted, but never unkind.

“I am… leading with him now,” I said, lifting my gaze to meet his.

For the briefest moment, surprise flickered across his face just a lift of his brows, but he didn’t interrupt. He never did.

“I’m going to help fix what he broke between our communities,” I continued. “And I know it’s hard to trust him. I hated him once, you know that. You saw me after the line up. I was broken… angry… hurt… The only thing in my head was killing the man who took my friends.”

My voice wavered slightly, but I pushed on. “But the Negan I knew then isn’t the Negan I know now.”

The words began to come faster, carried by years of weight I’d been holding in.

“I’m helping him find another way. A better one, not fear, not force. Something that actually lasts, something stable.”

I gestured back toward the buildings of Hilltop.

“I want us to work together. To build each other up instead of constantly preparing for the next war, to know we can lean on each other, share resources, protect each other if it ever comes to that again.”

My voice softened at the last words. “No more lines in the sand.”

There was a long pause after I finished. The morning breeze rustled through the trees and the distant sounds of Hilltop waking up drifted around us.

Jesus studied my face carefully, as if measuring not just my words, but my certainty.

“You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this,” he finally said. “And a lot of heart.”

Another pause, longer this time. “Leading alongside him won’t be easy, Mae,” he added gently. “You know that, people won’t forget overnight. Some won’t forgive at all.”

“I know,” I said without hesitation. “But I’m not asking them to forget. I’m asking them to let us prove it’s not going to happen again.”

A faint, thoughtful smile touched his lips. “That,” he murmured, “sounds a lot like hope… something I haven’t seen in you before.”

“I guess… I’m trying,” I said softly, meeting his gaze. “Trying to believe that hope isn’t just a word anymore.”

Jesus nodded slowly, his eyes steady on mine. “I can see that,” he said softly. “It takes a lot to let yourself feel that… to put hope ahead of anger and fear. Not everyone can do it.”

He took a small sip from his coffee, then set the cup down, leaning slightly against the wall. “Just… be careful, Mae. Change doesn’t happen in a vacuum. People will push back, test you, test him. And not everyone will understand why you’re doing this.”

“I know,” I said, determination steadying my voice. “But if I don’t try, if we don’t try… then nothing changes. We’d just be repeating the same mistakes over and over.”

Jesus studied me a long moment, then gave the faintest of nods. “Alright. Then I’ll hold you to that. And I’ll watch over you while you try. Make sure the people around you… and him… have a reason to believe this isn’t just empty words.”

I offered him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Jesus. That… means more than you know.”

He shrugged lightly, that calm, knowing look returning. “Just make sure you keep him in check. Someone has to, and it might as well be you.”

I stepped closer, and without thinking, wrapped my arms around him. He stiffened for a split second, then relaxed, returning the hug with careful support. When we finally pulled back, a small, approving smile lingered on his face.

I straightened, took a slow breath, and stepped back inside walking down the hall and  the door clicking softly behind me. The room was dim and warm, the kind of quiet that made everything feel fragile.

Negan was still asleep, sprawled in the blankets, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His hair was a mess, his cheeks faintly flushed from the heat of the covers, peaceful in a way he rarely let the world see.

I moved toward the bed on quiet feet and sank down beside him, my weight barely shifting the mattress. For a long moment, I just looked at him.

Thinking about how far we’d come. Thinking about everything we’d survived. Thinking about how impossibly, unexpectedly deep this love had rooted itself in me.

He wasn’t just beautiful, though yes, he was that too. It was his soul, the real one. The one he’d let me see piece by piece, like he was afraid it would break if he handed it over all at once. And I loved him for that. I loved all of him in a way that made my heart stutter every time I let myself feel it fully.

My fingers slipped gently into his hair, combing it back from his forehead. Then I leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against his warm skin.

When I pulled back, his lashes fluttered slow at first, then again a little stronger, like he was fighting his way up from the kind of sleep he didn’t get nearly often enough.

A rough hum rumbled in his chest before his eyes finally cracked open, unfocused and a little dazed. He blinked up at me, confusion melting almost instantly into something softer… something meant only for me. 

“Mmm… well ain’t that a sight to wake up to. Mornin’, doll,” he rasped.

I couldn’t stop my smile. I leaned down and brushed a slow kiss over his lips, my fingers slipping into his messy hair. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he murmured, voice still rough, his hand lazily tracing circles on my thigh. “Better than I have in a long damn time.”

That warmth in my chest rose again, impossible to hide. I touched his cheek lightly, studying him in the soft morning light.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered before I could think twice.

Negan smirked lazily, eyes narrowing just a little as he looked up at me. “Oh, I mean don’t get me wrong,” he rasped, voice still thick with sleep, “I am one handsome son of a bitch…” His grin deepened, slow and smug. “But the real beauty in this bed? That’s all you, darlin’.”

I felt my cheeks warm despite myself, shaking my head as I brushed his hair back from his forehead. “You’re impossible,” I murmured, smiling. “But… thank you.”

His hand slid up my thigh again, thumb tracing slow circles. “Yeah,” he whispered, eyes softening. “You better believe it.”

I smiled at him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You ready to go home?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah I am,” he said with a grin, that mischievous glint in his eyes I knew all too well. “Back in my own bed, with you… maybe even naked.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Negan, you know full well there’s no sex for two weeks. I’m not risking you dying just so you can fuck me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer, voice low and teasing. “But what about last night, huh?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my expression serious but failing miserably. “Last night… was different,” I said. “I knew you needed that. And that… wasn’t sex. Not really. It was… something else.”

Negan’s grin softened, eyes glinting with both amusement and something deeper, unreadable. “Hmm… I guess I can live with that, baby girl. Just don’t think you’re off the hook for the next two weeks.”

I shook my head, smiling. “Oh, I know exactly how very much trouble you’d be if you tried. And trust me… I’ll be making sure you behave.”

He let out a low laugh, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “Yeah… yeah, you will. That’s why I love you.”

A sharp knock sounded at the door before it creaked open, cutting through the quiet moment.

“Well,” Carson’s voice followed as he stepped inside, “if this is how you two look before discharge, I’m afraid I’ve grossly underestimated my recovery protocols.”

Negan groaned dramatically, dropping his head back onto the pillow. “Fucking hell, Doc, don’t you people ever knock?”

“I did,” Carson said dryly, already washing his hands. “You just chose to ignore it.” His eyes flicked to me, something almost amused there. “You ready?”

I slid off the bed and nodded, smoothing my shirt. “All yours.”

Carson moved in, checking Negan’s vitals with practiced efficiency blood pressure, pulse, pupils then carefully peeled back the edge of the bandage at his side. Negan tensed but didn’t complain, jaw tightening just slightly.

“Wound looks clean,” Carson said after a moment. “No redness, no discharge. Pain level?”

“Manageable,” Negan muttered. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t done anything stupid.”

Carson gave him a look. “Define stupid.”

Negan smirked. “I’m still breathing, ain’t I?”

I crossed my arms. “Barely convincing.”

Carson snorted, then straightened. “All right. You’re cleared for transport. No heavy lifting, no fighting, no exertion. You walk when my brother says, you walk, you rest when he says you rest.” He glanced pointedly between the two of us. “And absolutely no strenuous activity.”

Negan opened his mouth.

“Don’t,” Carson warned.

Negan closed it again, grumbling. “This is medical oppression.”

Carson handed me a small bag of meds. “Painkillers as prescribed. Antibiotics twice a day. If he spikes a fever, reopens the wound, or does something predictably idiotic radio me.”

I nodded. “I will.”

Carson paused, his expression softening just a fraction. “You did good keeping him stable.”

Negan looked at me then, something proud and quiet in his eyes.

Carson stepped toward the door. “Your vehicle is outside ready.”

When the door shut behind him, Negan let out a slow breath. “See? Doc says I’m basically invincible.”

I leaned down, brushing my thumb along his jaw. “Doc says you’re alive because you listened.”

He caught my wrist, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Guess I’ll keep listening then… at least until we get home.”

I smiled. “Good. Because Sanctuary or not, I’m not done taking care of you yet. Now come on, we should get going… see if the Sanctuary’s still standing after leaving Simon in charge,” I said, laughing.

“Ah, Simon… he’s like a cat with a chainsaw. Can’t wait to see what kinda chaos he cooked up. You ready for it, baby girl?” He swung the blanket off, and my eyes immediately landed on him, his black boxers clinging in all the right places, the bulge unmistakable.

I smirked, trying to play it cool, though I was already caught.

Negan’s eyebrows shot up, his grin turning wicked. “See something you like, darlin’?”

I shrugged, smirking despite the heat creeping up my neck. “What can I say… a girl’s allowed to appreciate the view, right?”

His grin widened, dark and smug. “Damn right she is. And it’s all yours, sweetheart. Every inch. And I know you’ve been itchin’ to do… somethin’ with it.”

I rolled my eyes, but my smile gave me away instantly. “Yeah… you got me. I have been. But don’t get any ideas, mister one more week of good behavior. Doctor’s orders, I’m not risking you popping a stitch, just because you’re horny.”

Negan huffed dramatically as he eased out of bed and started tugging his pants on. “No fun.”

“There will be plenty of time for fun,” I laughed. “It’s two weeks, not the end of the world. And we’re already on day six, technically, that’s only a week left.”

He sighed like I’d just told him it was a year instead. “Still feels like a damn eternity.”

I nudged him with my shoulder. “Stop being so dramatic.”

He shot me a crooked grin. “Dramatic, sweetheart, I’m dyin’ here.”

I laughed under my breath and stepped closer, sliding my arms around him. He wrapped his around me immediately.

“You’re alive, Negan,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to look at him. “That’s what matters. That’s what really matters.”

His expression softened, the joke fading. He saw it the flicker of fear still lodged behind my eyes. The echo of almost losing him, his hands came to my back again, holding me tighter as he pulled me into his chest.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice low and steady. “I’m right here, Mae.”

I pressed my forehead against him, breathing in, breathing out. “I know… but you almost weren’t.”

“I know,” he murmured, soothing, his chin resting on top of my head. “I know, baby girl.”

We stood there for a long moment, wrapped around each other like we were trying to memorise the feeling.

Finally, he brushed his hand along my arm. “C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s get going.”

I packed up our things, just the essentials Laura had brought me and swung my backpack over my shoulder.

“You ready?” I asked.

Negan reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine with that familiar confidence.

“You good to walk?” I added gently.

“Yeah,” he nodded, squeezing my hand as we stepped toward the door. “I feel a hell of a lot better today.”

We stepped out into the morning light together slow and steady, side by side. The air was cool, the world quiet in that early-hour way that made everything feel a little softer.

Jesus was waiting near the steps, coffee still in hand. He looked up as we approached.

“Heading out?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said with a small laugh. “Time to get back to the Sanctuary. See if it’s still standing after leaving Simon in charge.”

A faint smile tugged at Jesus’s mouth as he looked between the two of us. “God help us all.”

Negan let out a snort. “Oh, c’mon, place probably burned down five minutes after I left.”

Jesus lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed but amused. “Somehow… that doesn’t comfort me.”

“I, uh… wanted to say thank you again,” I told him. “For taking care of him here, and for… earlier, the talk. It meant more than you think.”

His expression softened immediately all the edges easing, at least toward me. “Of course,” he said gently. “I meant what I said. And… for what it’s worth, I hope it works out the way you’re trying to make it.”

Negan shifted beside me, letting me lean into him a little more. Jesus noticed but didn’t comment. Just another small nod, like he was choosing to accept it even if he didn’t understand it.

“And thank you for letting Hilltop help,” I added. “For helping him. I know it wasn’t easy.”

Jesus exhaled slowly, looking down for a second before meeting my eyes again. “It wasn’t,” he admitted honestly then offered the smallest, warmest smile. “But for you? I can try.”

My chest tightened with emotion.

I stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug, and this time he didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around me, grounding and reassuring, the kind of hug only Jesus could give quiet strength, quiet understanding.

When I stepped back, he placed a hand briefly on my shoulder.

“Take care of yourself, Mae,” he said softly. Then, after a moment, with a reluctant glance at Negan, “And… take care of him too. If you’re really doing this, he’s going to need you.”

“I will,” I promised.

Negan cleared his throat. “I can hear you, y’know.”

Jesus smirked faintly. “I’m aware.”

Then he stepped back, giving us room to go.

“Safe travels,” he said simply.

Negan squeezed my hand as we headed toward the truck, moving slow but steady. Once we reached it, he eased himself into the passenger seat with a small grunt, doing his best to pretend it didn’t hurt. I slid into the driver’s side and tossed the bag into the back.

The second I looked down, I burst into a laugh. The seat was shoved so far back I couldn’t even pretend to reach the pedals.

“Oh, come on,” I groaned, half laughing as I reached for the lever. “You and your damn long legs.”

Negan snorted, grinning lazily. “Hey, don’t blame me for bein’ a tall drink of water, sweetheart.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling the seat forward inch by inch until my feet actually touched the pedals again. Then I adjusted the steering wheel, not because it needed it, but because Negan’s amused stare wasn’t helping my concentration.

“Better?” he teased.

“Yeah,” I muttered, shooting him a look. “Now I can actually drive us home without sitting a mile away.

Negan snorted. “So tell me, sweetheart… can you even drive? Like, be honest, did you get your learner’s permit before the world went to absolute shit?”

“Woooow,” I dragged out, offended on principle. I shoved him lightly. “Yes, I can drive, you asshole. I’m a great fucking driver.”

Negan burst out laughing. “Stop, stop, you’re gonna make me pop a stitch.”

“Oh, so it’s funny now?” I shot back, raising a brow. “You really don’t think I can drive?”

He smirked that cocky Negan smirk. “I think,” he said, drawing it out, “you’ll drive like you do everything else, darlin’ reckless, stubborn, and sexy as hell. Which is exactly why I’m holdin’ onto the door handle the whole damn way home.”

I swatted his arm, smiling despite myself. “Keep it up and I’ll hit every pothole on purpose.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned.

I turned the key, the engine rumbling to life, and shot Negan a pointed look. “You ready for this reckless driver?” I asked, mocking his earlier tone.

He snorted. “As long as you don’t kill us before we make it out the damn gate, yeah.”

I shoved his shoulder lightly before shifting into gear. We rolled out of Hilltop slow and steady, tires crunching over gravel. 

After a minute, I glanced at him with a smug little grin. “See, I’m a very good driver.”

Negan opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off, my tone sweet.

“But since you said ‘reckless’…” I tightened my grip on the wheel. “Hold on.”

Before he could even question it, I yanked the handbrake. The truck swung sideways in a controlled drift, dust flying as the back end slid out perfectly across the dirt road. I eased off the brake, steering smoothly until we straightened out like nothing had happened.

“My dad taught me that,” I said casually, laughing.

Negan was gripping the door handle so hard it was a miracle it didn’t snap off.

“Fucking hell,” he barked out, eyes wide. “Warn a man with stitches before you try out for Fast & Furious, woman!”

I just grinned, tapping the wheel with satisfaction. “Told you I could drive.”

Negan laughed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe me. “Always gotta prove your damn point, don’t you?”

“Yep,” I said proudly.

He let out a long exhale, half-laughing. “I swear, Mae… leave you unsupervised for five minutes and suddenly you’re an adrenaline junkie.”

“You’re the one who fell in love with me,” I shot back, nudging him with my elbow.

“Yeah,” he said with that unmistakable, crooked grin, “which probably makes me the real reckless one here.”

I laughed and focused back on the road, keeping us steady. As much as I loved showing off, the last thing I wanted was to jostle him around and actually mess up his stitches. 

So for the rest of the drive, I kept it calm smooth turns, easy speed, one hand on the wheel, the other resting close enough that his fingers could brush mine whenever he wanted.

Every now and then, I’d catch him glancing at me, that soft, quiet look he only ever gave me.

“So what was that conversation you had with Jesus, the one you thanked him for?” Negan asked.

I smiled, eyes on the road. “We were just… redefining relationships.”

“Oh yeah?” he said. “And what does that mean exactly?”

“It means… I told him I’m leading with you now.”

Negan looked at me, genuinely surprised. He knew I hadn’t told anyone that yet.

I continued, “I explained that I’m trying to fix what got broken between our communities. That people don’t trust you, hell, I didn’t trust you once. But now, we share something. We protect each other. And I want to build something that lasts instead of tearing each other apart. I told him you’re trying, really trying, to be better.”

“And Jesus?” he asked quietly, rough around the edges. “He buy any of it?”

I nodded. “He agreed to have Hilltop try to work with us. I told him no more taking, no more fear just working together for something better. He warned me it won’t be easy. People don’t forget, and some won’t forgive. But… he will try, mostly for me. But he’s trying.”

Negan’s grin softened, his eyes meeting mine with that rare, unguarded warmth. “You know what, baby girl” he said, his voice low but full of pride. “I am so damn proud of you. You… you stood up, laid it all out there, and already got a whole damn community agreeing to work with us. That’s no small feat.”

He squeezed my hand gently, the pride in his grip grounding me. “Most people would’ve folded, played it safe, or just said screw it. But not you, you stepped up, you did the hard thing, and you made people see it could work. That’s… that’s incredible, Mae.”

I felt my chest tighten, a warmth spreading through me at his words. “Negan… I”

He cut me off with a crooked grin, tilting my hand to press a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Don’t get all shy on me now, darlin’. Just… know this, I see it, I see you. And I couldn’t be prouder to call you mine.”

I smiled, a little teary, and squeezed his hand back. “Thank you… that means everything.”

Negan leaned back, still holding my hand, eyes glinting with tenderness.. “Baby… you’ve earned every bit of that praise. I’ve never been prouder, and don’t you forget it.”

I smiled then exhaled heavy, “Uh sooo… how does this even work?” I asked, my voice betraying the tension I felt. “I mean… you’re still healing. You can’t exactly lead in this state, can you?”

Negan let out a low chuckle, the kind that said he wasn’t nearly as worried as I was. “Sweetheart… I’ve led in worse condition than this. Hell, once I had a busted rib, a cracked knuckle, and a fever that could’ve cooked a damn egg on my forehead.”

I shot him a look. “That’s not comforting.”

He smirked. “Wasn’t meant to be. Just sayin’ I ain’t made of glass.”

“I know that,” I muttered, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “But it’s different now. You can’t be running around barking orders or getting in people’s faces. You’re literally stitched together.”

Negan shifted in his seat with a small wince he tried to hide. “Alright, alright… yeah. I ain’t exactly in top form.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand, grounding me again. “That’s why you’re stepping up with me, why we’re doing this together.”

I let out a shaky laugh, squeezing his hand. “Together… yeah. I just… I want this to go right, for everyone.”

“And it will,” he said, his voice low but steady, eyes locking on mine. “Because you’re in it. You’re driving this… and me along with it. That’s all anyone needs to make it work.”

I exhaled, letting some of the tension ease from my shoulders, feeling both the weight of responsibility and the warmth of having him by my side.

As I pulled up to the gate, the men recognized us instantly, no hesitation. The doors swung open, and we rolled straight through. I parked in the yard and let out a slow breath.

“You ready?” Negan asked, squeezing my hand.

I nodded, steadying myself. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

I hopped out and rounded the truck, keeping close as he eased himself out of the passenger side. I grabbed the bag and Lucille, handing it to him before lacing my fingers back through his.

“You good to walk?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk. “I’m still kickin’.”

We walked inside together.

The moment we entered, the noise died. Conversations cut off mid-word. Every pair of eyes locked onto us as we crossed the floor and headed straight for the stairs. Negan moved with purpose, pain be damned. When we reached the catwalk, he tapped Lucille against the railing sharp, deliberate.

That sound alone pulled everyone’s attention.

“I’m guessin’ a whole lotta you fine folks thought I was dead,” he called out, voice echoing through the room. “Chewed up, never to be crapped again.”

He paused. “Well… heres a little refresher on who the hell I am .” He straightened, grip tightening around Lucille. “I wear a leather jacket. I have Lucille” He grinned, “and my nutsack is made of steal. I ain’t dyin’ until I’m damn’ good and ready.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I knew exactly what he was doing reminding them that their leader was still standing, still strong, still Negan.

“And for those of you who missed the headline,” he went on, gesturing toward me, “Mae and I along with Alexandria, Hilltop, and the Kingdom took down the Whisperers. Alpha. Beta. Their whole creepy-ass horde.”

For a moment, there was silence… then applause broke out, growing louder, spreading through the room until cheers followed.

Negan let it settle before speaking again.

“Now I know believe me, I know a whole lotta you spent a long time lookin’ at those communities like they were the enemy.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Hell, I did too. And yeah… maybe at one point, they were.”

His expression hardened, voice cutting through the yard. “But that shit ends now.”

The air went still.

“No more takin’. I’m done buildin’ this place on bodies and bad blood.” He glanced at me then, just for a second, something steady and sure in his eyes, before turning back to them. “We’re doin’ this different. We work with the other communities. We share. We build something that doesn’t fall apart the second someone gets scared.”

Lucille rested against the railing as he leaned forward slightly, voice low, dangerous in its certainty.

“And if that makes some of you real uncomfortable?” A slow, crooked grin spread across his face. “Good. Means you’re payin’ attention. Change ain’t supposed to feel safe.”

Negan’s grin lingered, but his eyes hardened just enough to remind everyone who they were listening to.

“Now don’t get it twisted,” he went on, tapping Lucille lightly against the railing. “This ain’t some free for all sing along where we all hold hands and forget how the world works.”

A few uneasy chuckles rippled through the crowd.

“This is still the Sanctuary. We still got rules. You pull your weight, you respect the deal, and you don’t screw over the people standin’ next to you.” His gaze swept over them, slow and deliberate. “You do that, we’re good. Real good.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to that dangerous calm everyone recognized.

“But you break those rules… you take when you’re not supposed to, you try to drag us back into fear and bullshit?” He gave a small, humorless smile. “Yeah. There’s still consequences.”

Lucille came to rest against his shoulder as he straightened, tone leveling out again.

“Difference is now. We’re building something worth protectin’. And I expect every last one of you to help keep it that way.”

Then, softer almost casual he added, “Sound fair?” He glanced at me for half a second, then back to them.

“Alright, people. Back to work.”

Negan turned to me as the crowd below finally broke apart. “Alright,” I said, giving him the look. “Straight to bed, mister. You’re still healing.”

He let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained. “Damn… awfully bossy, darlin’,” he drawled, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me in close like he owned the space between us.

I smiled up at him, but there was truth under the teasing. “Yeah, well, if you don’t heal properly and you die, that leaves me here alone to run this place,” I said, laughing softly. “And there is no fucking way that’s happening.”

He smirked, eyes warm. “Well shit, when you put it like that…” He dipped his head closer. “Guess I better behave, huh? Can’t leave my girl alone with a bunch of idiots and a perfectly good empire.”

I smiled at him. “Exactly. Now, come on.”

He released my waist, and we walked side by side down the catwalk and into our room. I dropped the bag on the floor and collapsed onto the bed with a contented sigh.

“Oh, bed… I’ve missed you,” I murmured, stretching out.

Negan flopped down beside me, landing on his back with a lazy grin. “Mmm… feels good to be back, huh, darlin’.”

“It does,” I said softly. “Crazy to think this place… it feels like home now.” I turned to him, smiling. “But home… home is really where you are.”

Negan’s grin softened, that familiar mix of charm and warmth in his eyes. He reached out, brushing my cheek with his thumb. “Well, darlin’… if that’s true, then I guess I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

I leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. When I pulled back, I smiled softly. “Now… bed,” I said. “Rest, relax… and actually sleep.” I stood, reaching into the bag for his meds and water bottle.

Negan kicked off his boots, shrugged out of his leather jacket, and wriggled out of his jeans before sliding back onto the bed. I handed him the water bottle and the pills.

“I’m going to check in with Carson,” I added, “make sure you’ve got enough meds and everything’s in order. And I’ll tell him what his brother said, too.”

Negan’s grin was lazy but playful, eyes half-lidded. “Ah, makin’ sure I don’t croak on you, huh? Smart move, darlin’. Go on… but don’t be gone too long, or I might just have to come find you myself.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I stepped toward the door. “Don’t tempt me, Negan.”

Negan propped himself up on one elbow, that signature crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Hey, darlin’… why don’t you go brief the lieutenants? Let ‘em know how the horde went down, and that we’ve got Hilltop and the Kingdom on board to work with us. All that’s left is Alexandria. You got this.”

I froze mid-step, eyebrows lifting. “Wait… what? You want me to do that… on my own?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, shrugging, voice dripping with cocky confidence. “You’re leading with me now, ain’t ya? Time to show ‘em exactly what that means. You tell it like it is, and they’ll listen.”

I crossed my arms, trying not to smile at him. “You really think I can just waltz in there and command the room?”

Negan sat up a little more, leaning closer, eyes glinting with that dangerous mix of mischief and pride. “Darlin’, if anyone can do it, it’s you. And if they even think about giving you shit. They’ll deal with me after, you, you just speak the truth.”

I shook my head, half exasperated, half amused. “You’re unbelievable…”

“And you love it,” he murmured, smirking.

I groaned, but a fire sparked in my chest. “Fine… but don’t think I won’t be dragging you into the fallout if this goes sideways.”

Negan laughed low and dark, settling back against the pillows. “Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He reached out, giving my hand a quick squeeze. “Go get ‘em, baby girl.”

Find other part here

The next couple of days passed quicker than I expected. I stayed at Hilltop with Negan, never more than a few feet from him, making sure he got his meds on time, that the wound stayed clean, that he didn’t so much as think about pushing himself too far too soon. Everyone else had gone back home, but I stayed. I wasn’t going to leave him, not after everything.

The day after he was shot, Rick told me everything had gone according to plan. The horde was taken down. The Whisperers were gone. Beta was dead. The threat that had suffocated us for so long had finally been cut off at the root.

I felt like I could actually breathe. Negan was alive, really alive, and the Whisperers were gone. The crushing weight that had been sitting on my chest was finally lifted. My body felt lighter, my mind clearer, safe, or as close to safe as this world ever allowed.

Negan healed faster than Carson predicted. He started taking short walks around the room, then the yard, his breathing was steadier and his color finally came back. His bite of witty sarcasm returned right along with his strength, annoying everyone but me. I didn’t mind, he was Negan, unapologetically himself. And that was the man I fell in love with.

Every night, I squeezed myself onto that tiny hospital bed beside him, curled into his arms. Uncomfortable? Absolutely. Worth it? More than anything.

This morning, I woke up to him kissing me awake, slow, warm kisses across my cheek and lips, as if he’d been waiting for my eyes to open. I blinked up at him, his face inches from mine, smiling like he owned the sunrise.

A tired laugh slipped out of me. “You watching me sleep or what?”

“Just admiring what’s mine,” he murmured, voice low and sinful as he pressed a kiss to my lips, then traced down my jaw. He stopped at my neck, right where he knew it drove me crazy, kissing the spot with deliberate, wicked slowness.

I let out a soft, involuntary moan, my eyes fluttering shut. Fuck, my whole body ached for him. But I had to gather every ounce of strength to stop him, even though it felt like torture.

I grabbed his chin gently, guiding his face back up to mine. “You know what Carson said,” I warned, breathless but firm. “No strenuous activity for two weeks.”

Negan groaned loudly, dropping his head back onto the pillow like he’d just been personally victimized.

“And he was very specific,” I added, trying not to laugh, “that it includes sex.”

Negan dragged his hand down his face, groaning like the universe was personally torturing him. “Two weeks,” he muttered, glaring up at the ceiling. “That man is cruel, evil and vindictive.”

I snorted. “He’s keeping you alive.”

“Yeah, well, he’s killing me in other ways,” Negan shot back, lifting his head to look at me with that familiar mischievous glint. “Two weeks is a damn lifetime.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You were literally dying five days ago.”

“Exactly,” he said, pointing at me as if I’d made his argument for him. “Which means I deserve some… celebrations.”

I laughed and pushed his hand down gently. “Celebrations can wait.”

He hummed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing like he was planning a prison break. “There’s gotta be a loophole.”

“There’s not.”

“There’s always a loophole.”

I shook my head, settling back beside him, but he rolled onto his side carefully, mindful of his wound and propped himself on his elbow like he was settling in for negotiations.

“Okay,” he began, all seriousness despite the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What if, and just hear me out…you do all the moving?”

“Negan.”

“No, really, i’ll just lay here. Like this.” He dropped back dramatically against the pillow. “Innocent, still, pure.”

I snorted so hard I choked. “Pure? You?”

“Hey,” he said, pretending to be offended, “I can be pure.”

“When? In what lifetime?”

He pointed at me again. “I am very pure in my intentions.”

“Your intentions are the problem,” I laughed.

He let out a dramatic sigh, collapsing back onto the pillow with all the energy of a man denied his greatest joy. “Fine,” he grumbled, but his hand found mine. “Two weeks. But you better be ready when that clock runs out… because I ain’t patient when it comes to you.” 

I leaned in and kissed him softly, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Well… then you better heal fast.”

He smirked, eyes gleaming. “Oh, trust me, baby, I’ve already got incentive.”

Before I could respond, a knock sounded at the door, and Carson’s voice followed immediately “Please tell me you two aren’t doing anything I warned you not to.”

Negan groaned again louder than necessary. “See? Vindictive.”

I buried my face in his shoulder, laughing as Carson pushed the door open.

Carson stepped inside with a look that landed somewhere between exhausted and so done.

He glanced at us me flushed, Negan smirking like the devil himself and let out a slow, knowing sigh. “Yep. That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

Negan pointed at him dramatically. “You are a cruel, cruel man, Carson.”

Carson didn’t even blink. “And yet, somehow, I’m still the one keeping you alive.”

I bit my lip trying not to laugh and Negan shot me a betrayed look.

“You see what I’m dealing with?” he said to Carson, gesturing wildly at me. “She thinks this is funny.”

“I think,” Carson said dryly as he pulled a stool over to the bed, “that it’s a miracle she hasn’t smothered you with a pillow.”

Negan actually gasped. “She would never I am her fiancé. Her future husband.” He pointed at my hand. “She said yes, by the way.”

Carson glanced at the ring, then at me, then at him. “I’m aware. Congratulations. Now stop talking before your heart rate spikes for stupid reasons.”

I snorted. “Good luck with that.”

Negan glared at both of us. “I am surrounded by traitors.”

Carson ignored him and lifted the blanket carefully. “Alright, let’s take a look at the wound.”

Negan groaned like he was being tortured. “Do you enjoy this? Be honest.”

“More than I should,” Carson said as he peeled the dressing back. He inspected the edges of the healing wound, nodding with clear relief. “No redness, no swelling, looks clean. You’re healing well.”

I released a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Negan tried to crane his neck to see, wincing. “So I can go home?”

Carson studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod as he adjusted the fresh gauze. “Yeah, you can tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve already radioed the Sanctuary. My brother will take over your care from here. You’re stable enough, but that doesn’t mean you’re fixed. Take it easy, and don’t push your luck.”

Negan scoffed softly, lips curling into that familiar smirk. “Doc, I don’t push my luck,” he said. “Luck and I have an understanding. I just bend the rules a little.”

His gaze flicked to me. “Besides… I’ve got the best damn nurse in the apocalypse. Think I’ll be just fine.” 

Carson wrapped the fresh bandage and taped it down cleanly. “Your breathing sounds good. Fever’s gone. You’re on track. But you still need rest. And absolutely no–

“Strenuous activity,” Negan and I chorused, both rolling our eyes.

Carson blinked. “Good. So you at least heard me.”

Negan huffed, folding his arms carefully. “And what exactly is strenuous? Can she at least give me a blowjo–”

I froze, my cheeks flaming. “Negan!” I cut in, laughing but mortified.

Negan smirked, undeterred. “Come on, Doc…cut me some slack here.”

“Negan,” Carson said flatly, “if I walk in here and find you trying to ‘interpret the rules,’ I swear I’ll sedate you myself.”

Negan chuckled, unfazed. “Relax, Doc. I’m a wounded man, not a damn animal… I just happen to have very specific needs.”

Carson stood, brushing his hands together and giving a small shake of his head. “I’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you again,” he said. “In the meantime, I want you up and walking a little. Nothing heroic, just a little slow walk around outside. Keep the blood moving.”

Negan arched a brow. “Walking’s strenuous, doc. So if I gotta walk… why can’t I screw my fiancée?”

“Negan, geez,” I muttered, swatting his arm lightly.

Carson didn’t even blink. “Because walking is basic circulation, not exertion. And what you’re talking about is the exact opposite of ‘take it easy.’ You wanna pop stitches, open the wound back up, or bleed out on the floor in front of her?”

Negan grimaced. “When you put it like that… really kills the mood, man.”

Carson pointed at him. “That’s the idea.”

Negan glanced at me, grinning. “Worth a try.”

Carson sighed. “Try not to drive her insane while I’m gone.”

“She loves me,” Negan fired back without missing a beat.

Carson paused at the door and glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m amazed she does. Walk. Then rest.” With that, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

I turned back to Negan, who was already watching me that familiar mischief flickering in his eyes. “Come on, big guy. Doctor’s orders.” 

A crooked smirk tugged at his mouth. “You always this bossy, or is that a special privilege I earned?”

“Only you,” I murmured, stepping closer and offering my hands.

He shifted to the edge of the bed, but instead of taking my hands, he rested his own on either side of my waist, fingers warm and heavy against me.

“Negan… this is not how you stand up,” I said, even as a smile betrayed me.

His thumbs slid slowly along my sides, unhurried, deliberate. Then his fingers traced lightly up beneath my ribs before drifting back down.

“It’s how I want to stand up,” he murmured, voice low. “Against you.”

A shiver ran down my spine, a warm heat spreading beneath his touch. My breath caught in a small, involuntary gasp. His hand drifted lower, curving over my backside and giving it a firm, possessive squeeze. I arched a brow, meeting his gaze. “Negan.”

His hand went back to my waist, and this time both of them slid under the hem of my shirt, palms pressing against the sensitive skin at my sides. 

'Yes, baby girl?' he whispered, sounding innocent even as his hands started to move upward slowly and deliberately. His hands traced my ribs until they reached the curve of my breasts, cupping them through the thin lace of my bra.

My breath hitched. “Enough… you’re starting something we can’t finish, and you know it.” I caught his hands, guiding them away from me

His jaw tightened for just a second. “Doesn’t mean I don’t need to touch you. Almost lost my damn chance.”

“You’re impossible,” I whispered.

“And you missed me,” he shot back, his hands settling at my waist again.

“I did,” I admitted softly. “But that doesn’t mean you get to act up the second you can sit upright.”

He chuckled under his breath, resting his forehead on my chest. “I nearly died. Pretty sure that earns me at least a little inappropriate touching, sweetheart.”

I grabbed his wrists, gently but firmly, guiding his hands away. “Stand up,” I said, trying to sound serious. “Before I lose what little self control I have left and Carson never clears you for anything ever again.”

I slid my arm around his back, careful of the bandages as I helped him shift his weight to his feet. He was a little steadier than before but still unbalanced enough that a good portion of his weight leaned into me. His arm brushed around my waist, hand settling there like it belonged.

“Yeah, yeah… I know what you’re doing,” I said softly, though I didn’t pull away.

“Doing what?” he asked innocently, though the grin on his face ruined the act.

“Using the ‘injured man’ excuse to touch me.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied. “I’m using the ‘I almost died and missed my girl’ excuse. Totally different.”

My lips twitched as we took a slow step together. Then another.

“And you’re not supposed to be relying on me this much,” I warned gently.

“I’m not relying,” he said, lowering his voice as he dipped his head closer to my ear. “I’m appreciating.”

A shiver ran down my spine despite myself. “Negan…”

He chuckled quietly. “What? I’m allowed to appreciate my fiancée, ain’t I?”

I kept my arm around him, steadying him as we stepped carefully through the quiet courtyard. The morning sun was soft, the air still crisp, carrying faint smells of smoke. Negan’s steps were slow at first, hesitant, but with every movement he grew a little more confident, a little more steady.

“You’re moving like a pro already,” I teased, trying to keep my voice light. “Don’t think you can use that ‘weak’ act forever.”

"‘Weak, huh?’ he said, arching an eyebrow. ‘Careful, baby… you might just be encouraging me.’"

With every step, his balance improved, even his voice was stronger. It was like watching him reclaim himself piece by piece. And I couldn’t help but smile, gripping his hand tighter, letting him lean into me when he wanted, feeling him laugh quietly at something I said, watching the man I loved come back to life with each slow, steady step.

By the time we had made it around the small courtyard once, Negan was practically walking on his own. I kept just a finger lightly brushing along his back, grounding him, letting him feel my presence without having to lean heavily on me.

“Okay, come on. Let’s not push it,” I said, guiding us back toward the building.

Once inside, we made our way back to the room. I turned to shut the door behind us, and when I looked back, Negan was right there close, his dark eyes burning with that familiar look I knew all too well.

“Uh-uh, Mr, don’t look at me with those eyes,” I said, trying to sound stern, but a smile tugged at my lips anyway.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby,” he said, feigning innocence as he stepped closer, our chests nearly touching.

I looked away, struggling for self control. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The way you’re looking at me, I know what that means. I know what you want.”

He lifted his fingers, wrapping them gently around my chin and tilting it up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Is that right, baby girl? And what is it that I want?” His smirk lingered, lips hovering just inches from mine.

I swallowed, my cheeks heating.

“You already know what you want…” I breathed. My heart hammered as I pressed my hand lightly to his chest, stopping him from moving any closer. My fingers flexed against his shirt, grounding both of us. 

“But you were just shot, Negan. And for once in your life, you’re going to listen to what someone else says and do what the damn doctor told you.”

A sharp breath left him as he forced himself to still beneath my touch, every muscle in his chest tightening under my palm. His jaw flexed, eyes dropping for a split second before dragging back up to mine, darker now.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned down.

Just enough for our foreheads to brush… for his breath to mingle with mine and for the space between us to disappear.

When his lips met mine, the kiss was brief but burning controlled only by willpower. His hand came up to the back of my head, his fingers threading into my hair as if to steady himself more than to claim me. 

And then he pulled back just as quickly, forehead still resting against mine, breathing uneven. His thumb lingered near my jaw, as if he was fighting the urge to go back for more.

“Damn it…” he murmured under his breath, teeth just grazing his lower lip.

“Yeah… damn it,” I whispered back, my voice low, uneven. He caught my gaze and that mischievous grin spread across his face, the one that always made my knees weak. 

Before I could think, he pulled me back into another kiss hotter and hungrier this time, his lips claiming mine with a deliberate urgency. He groaned into me, tugging me closer, his fingers threading into my hair, tilting my head perfectly to deepen the kiss. His tongue moved in perfect rhythm with mine, and when he tugged my lip gently between his teeth before letting go, I gasped against him.

He leaned close to my ear, breath warm and low, his voice rough as it vibrated against me. “You’re driving me insane, baby girl.”

“Fuck…” I muttered, heat coiling in my chest, crawling through my veins.

I pulled back just enough to steady myself, pressing a hand to his chest. “Go… lay on the bed.”

He blinked at me, amusement dancing in his eyes, a teasing brow arched. “You giving me orders now, sweetheart?”

I smirked, bold despite the fire in my veins. “I am… if you want me to do what I’m about to do.”

I took a slow, deliberate step back, nodding toward the bed. “Go… sit,” I whispered, my voice low but firm, trying to mask the tremble in my chest.

Negan’s eyes flickered with amusement and desire as he obeyed, moving toward the bed. “Lay back… put your head on the pillows,” I instructed, my gaze locked on him. He smirked, a flicker of confusion in his dark eyes, but he did as I asked, settling carefully in the middle of the bed.

I stood in front of him, heat pooling in my chest as I studied him. The way his eyes followed me, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the dangerous tilt of his jaw… it made me shiver despite myself.

Sliding onto the bed, I knelt between his legs, letting my eyes roam over him. “Now,” I whispered, voice serious, “you know this shouldn’t be happening, but I’m doing this because I love you. And yes, you quite literally almost died. But I swear, Negan… if a stitch pops, if anything feels weird, you tell me straight away.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back, his eyes dark with amusement. My gaze dropped to the growing bulge straining against the denim of his jeans. I reached for the zipper, then hesitated.

“Negan, seriously,” I warned, my tone firm even as my pulse raced.

He chuckled again, deadpan and teasing. “Okay, okay, baby. I’ll tell you,” he said, his grin widening knowing exactly what was about to happen now.

I nodded, carefully continuing, unbuttoning his jeans and then sliding the zipper down, every movement deliberate, my fingers gentle, fully aware of the need to go slow. 

I tugged his jeans down to his thighs, and he lifted his hips to help me. The hard line of his cock was evident even through the fabric of his boxers. I palmed him, stroking the length a few times, and was rewarded with a deep groan from Negan. A slow smile touched my lips as I looked down at him.

Reaching into the band of his black boxers, I wrapped my fingers around his hard cock, gasping softly at the feel of his hot, throbbing skin against mine.

I stroked him slowly, up and down, my hand gliding along his shaft. I kept my eyes locked on his as I leaned down, my tongue began to lick his sensitive tip. Negan’s thigh twitched, his entire body seeming to beg for more.

Then, I slowly took him into my mouth, my lips parting to welcome him. I slid down his length, savoring the texture of every ridge and vein, feeling the frantic pulse of him against my tongue.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, the sound raw and guttural. 

His hand shot up, tangling in my hair, not to force me, but to pull the strands back from my face. He gathered them into a makeshift ponytail with his fist, holding me gently but firmly in place.

My hand worked in tandem with my mouth, pumping his shaft slowly as I began to suck, my lips gliding up and down his hard cock. I found a rhythm, bobbing my head, taking him deeper with each pass. 

Negan’s groans grew louder, more desperate. I watched him, my gaze locked on his face as he threw his head back against the pillows, his throat exposed, his jaw tight with pure, unadulterated bliss. He was lost in the feeling, and I was the one drowning him in it.

The sight of him so completely undone, his usual smug control shattered into a million pieces of raw need, was the most intoxicating thing I had ever seen. I tightened my grip on his shaft, my strokes becoming more deliberate as I swirled my tongue around the sensitive head, teasing the slit before taking him deep again.

The taste of him, salty and clean and uniquely male, flooded my senses. His hips began to move, instinctive thrusts, a silent plea for more that I was all too willing to grant.

"Fucking hell, woman," he breathed, his voice a ragged whisper. "Look at you. So fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

The praise sent a fresh wave of heat straight to my core, making my own body ache with a need that was becoming impossible to ignore.

I moaned around him, the vibration traveling down his length, and he cursed under his breath, his fingers tightening in my hair just enough to be a thrilling reminder of his strength.

I relaxed my throat and took him deeper than before, until my nose brushed against the rough hair at his base. He let out a choked gasp, his entire body going rigid. I held him there for a moment, my throat constricting around him.

A loud knock at the door made both of us freeze. Fuck it’s Carson, I thought.

“Negan? You in there?” his voice called from the other side.

Negan’s eyes met mine, wide with a mixture of panic and amusement. I had his cock still in my mouth, barely holding back a laugh, and when his chest started to shake with a silent chuckle, I nearly lost it completely.

“Uh, yeah, Doc,” Negan called out, his voice coming out far more breathless than he intended. “Just… give me a minute.”

There was a long, heavy pause on the other side of the door.

“Please tell me Mae is not in there,” Carson said, already irritated, “and that you two aren’t doing exactly what I told you not to.”

I barely managed to stifle my laughter. Negan shifted slightly and tried to sound casual. 

“Nope,” he called out. “She’s outside… having a smoke. I’m just… not exactly dressed right now, so maybe give me a minute.”

Another pause.

“I don’t even want to know,” Carson muttered. “You’ve got one minute.”

“Yeah, yeah. Minute,” Negan replied.

We listened as his footsteps retreated down the hall. The second we were sure he was gone, I pulled my lips off of him and Negan released his grip on my hair. There was a moment of silence and then we both broke into quiet, uncontrollable laughter.

Negan dragged a hand down his face, letting out a heavy exhale. “Well… fuck,” he murmured, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Cock blocking me once again that damn doctor.”

With a frustrated huff, he shoved himself back into his boxers and pulled up his jeans. I slid off the bed, trying to fix myself, smoothing down my clothes and taming my hair.

I probably better go outside,” I whispered with a shaky laugh. “Just so it looks like I actually was out there.”

Negan looked me over, amusement sparking in his eyes when he noticed my flushed cheeks and messy hair. “Yeah, but baby girl…” he said softly, stepping closer, “if he sees you lookin’ like that, he’s gonna know exactly where you’ve been.”

My heart jumped into my throat. “Then I’ll just run for it,” I whispered, laughing.

Negan’s hand brushed my wrist before I reached for the door. “Be smooth, Mae,” he murmured. “Not suspicious. You’re terrible at hiding things when you panic.”

“I am not,” I shot back under my breath.

“You are,” he smirked.

I cracked the door open, peeking out into the hallway. Empty, for half a second, relief washed over me. I slipped out, easing the door shut behind me as quietly as I could, then started down the hall, forcing my breathing to steady.

Just walking. Totally normal. You were always out here.

I’d almost made it to the end of the corridor when a door creaked open, I froze and my stomach dropped.

Carson stepped out, clipboard in hand, eyes lifting straight to me “That was a quick smoke”.

“Yeah, uh… I didn’t even get to start it,” I said, far less confident than I meant to sound. “Forgot my lighter. Rookie mistake.” I lifted my empty hand as proof.

His eyes narrowed, unimpressed. “And your hair?”

I hesitated for half a second, then shrugged. “Wind?”

“We’re inside,” he deadpanned.

“I… move aggressively.”

That earned a reluctant scoff. He glanced down the hallway toward Negan’s room. “He behaving in there?”

I let out a small laugh. “Is Negan ever really behaving?”

Carson shook his head and started walking again, and I fell into step beside him. We stopped in front of Negan’s door and he knocked once.

“You good now?” he called out.

“Yeah, yeah I’m dressed,” Negan replied from inside.

Carson pushed the door open. Negan was stretched out on the bed, blanket pulled over his lower half, his hands folded behind his head and an obnoxiously satisfied grin on his face. I quickly looked away before the laughter bubbling in my chest could give me away.

“You’re awfully happy,” Carson muttered. “Too happy.”

His eyes moved from Negan… to me… then back to Negan again, suspicion clearly written all over his face.

Negan’s grin only widened.

I straightened, forcing my expression into something neutral, though my lip twitched despite my best effort to keep it still.

“Just happy to be breathin’, Doc,” Negan said, far too cheerful. Then he flicked his eyes toward me, slow and deliberate. “And happy to have this beautiful lady right here takin’ care of my every need.”

He let the words hang in the air, thick with meaning.

Carson’s jaw flexed. “And what, exactly, do you mean by that?” he asked.

Negan didn’t even hesitate. His smirk deepened. “Absolutely nothin’, Doc. You’re the one reading into it.”

Carson crossed his arms over his chest, unmoved. “Funny. Because from where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like you’re poking a very specific bear.” His eyes flicked briefly to me before snapping back to Negan. “And given your condition, that is not impressive. It’s irresponsible.”

Negan scoffed. “Doc, you wound me,” he said dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest careful, but theatrical. “I’m just expressing gratitude. That a crime now?”

“To look like you just committed one?” Carson shot back. “Yes.”

The corner of Negan’s mouth twitched upward. “What, a man isn’t allowed to be in a good mood? Surprised you didn’t prescribe that instead of the laundry list of ‘don’ts’ you slapped me with.”

“I’m serious, Negan.” Carson stepped closer to the bed now, eyes narrowing. “You so much as strain those stitches and you’re setting yourself back weeks. No unnecessary movement. No elevated heart rate. No–” his gaze cut pointedly between us, “activities.”

Negan hummed, like he was genuinely considering that medical advice. Then he stretched one arm back behind his head and sank deeper into the pillows, looking maddeningly pleased with himself, as if he didn’t have a care in the damn world.

Behind Carson’s back, his eyes flicked up to mine and he gave the smallest, most smug wink.

It nearly ended me.

I turned away fast, biting the inside of my cheek. My shoulders tightened as I tried to trap the laugh before it escaped, but a soft, traitorous breath slipped out anyway.

Carson’s voice went flat. “…Mae.”

I froze and slowly forced my gaze back to him.

“Is there something particularly funny about my instructions?” he asked, one brow lifting.

“I…no,” I said quickly, clearing my throat. “Just… nervous laughter. Tension, you know.”

Negan shifted, far too pleased by my discomfort. “She gets that around me, Doc,” he offered helpfully. “I’ve got that effect on people.”

“Mm-hm,” Carson replied, unconvinced as he returned his focus to the wound. He finished his checks, monitored Negan’s breathing, then straightened. “Everything looks good. You’re clear to go home tomorrow, like I said earlier.”

“Finally,” Negan groaned. “This bed feels like a damn wooden pallet.”

Carson shot him a look. “Make sure you give my brother the same amount of trouble you give me. I’ve filled him in on exactly where you are in the healing process so don’t even think about trying anything. And just so we’re crystal clear…” his eyes flicked between us again, “no strenuous activities.”

He threw me one last, pointed look before turning back to Negan. “I’ll be back in the morning for one final check before you two leave.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

For a second, the room was quiet. Then Negan’s grin stretched wider.

We locked eyes… and promptly lost it. A soft laugh slipped out of me, and he answered with one of his own low, warm, unmistakably Negan. I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed beside him. He shifted closer, pressed a quick, gentle kiss to my lips, then pulled back with that familiar crooked smile.

“So,” he murmured, voice still thick with mischief, “you gonna let me finish, or what?”

I scoffed, giving his shoulder a light push. “You are unbelievable. Did you not just hear him? We were this close to getting caught.”

“And yet here you are,” he said softly, eyes flicking over me like I was exactly where I belonged.

I shook my head, but I couldn’t hide the smile. The way he looked at me always undid every sensible thought in my head. “Come on then, big guy,” I sighed, brushing my fingers lightly over his arm. “Lay back.”

Word Count: 7497

Fandom: Narcos

Author’s Note: This is a Javier Peña one-shot written for Lea ml.

Description: o/c Lea is Javier’s informant, and the line between business and something more personal has always been dangerous but undeniable. Tension, desire, and raw emotion build as Javier can’t ignore what he’s been trying to suppress. What starts as protection slowly turns into something far more intimate, testing boundaries, control, and trust.

Warnings:

Explicit sexual content/smut Strong language Violence & danger (criminal world context) Angst & emotional intensity

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The knock came once sharp and controlled. 

I didn’t need to ask who it was.

When I opened the door, Javier stood in the hallway like he had always been there. Like he belonged to the shadows. A faint bruise darkened his cheekbone, and there was a new cut at the edge of his eyebrow, the kind you only noticed if you already knew where to look.

His eyes flicked past me, scanning my apartment out of instinct before settling back on my face.

“You’re late,” I said.

He exhaled, the ghost of a smirk touching his mouth. “You’re alive.”

“Low bar, Javier.” 

He stepped inside without an invitation, the door closing behind him with a dull click that seemed a little too final. The air shifted immediately heavier, warmer. Too small for the two of us and all the things we didn’t say.

“Are you alone?” he asked.

I lifted a brow. “Disappointed?”

His jaw flexed. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Do that.” His voice was low now, warning-toned. “You know damn well I don’t need any extra distractions tonight.”

“Then why are you here?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes caught on the side of my neck, the pulse there. I felt it suddenly. He took one faint step forward, then stopped himself.

“I needed to see you were okay,” he said finally. “Word is the men you tipped me off about? They’re gone. Someone might come looking to tie up loose ends.”

“And you think I’m a loose end?” I murmured.

“I think you’re in danger because of me.”

The words landed harder than anything else he’d said. For a second, the edge in him cracked, just slightly. Enough for the real exhaustion to bleed through. The weight of too many dead people, too many nights that never really ended.

Months ago, when I’d first agreed to be his informant, he’d treated me like an asset careful, detached and clinical. Coffee meetings, public places, conversations that never drifted personal. But cracks had formed slowly and quietly, late night calls, lingering looks. His hand brushing my arm when he thought I might bolt.

Neither of us had named it. Naming it would make it real. And real things got ruined in Javier’s world.

At first, there had only been rules.

No real names used on the phone. No touching, no questions that didn’t serve a purpose. He’d sit across from me at whatever cafe we chose that week, posture straight, eyes always scanning, always listening for more than I was saying. He kept a pen in his hand he never used, a silent habit to give his fingers something to do instead of reach for mine.

“You don’t need to know anything about me except that I pay you for information,” he’d said during our second meeting, voice level, professional, distant.

“And you don’t need to know anything about me except that you should always show up on time,” I’d shot back.

Something had flickered in his eyes then. Amusement, maybe, maybe irritation. Either way, he’d arrived five minutes early to every meeting after that.

Little things had piled up between us.

The way his Spanish softened around me when he was too tired to keep his American edge in place. How he started checking for me first when he walked into a room. The rare, dangerous half-smile he’d give when I managed to surprise him with a detail even his men hadn’t uncovered.

Late nights had blurred the line more than anything else.

He would call long after our business was done. Sometimes he wouldn’t even speak right away. Just breathe on the other end of the line, like he needed to hear proof of another person still being awake in the world with him.

“You still there?” I’d ask once.

“Yeah,” he’d answered quietly. “Just making sure you are too.”

It wasn’t normal and it wasn’t safe. And it had started to feel like something that belonged only to us.

I remembered the first time his hand had touched me. It had been pouring rain, the sidewalks of Bogotá were slick and chaotic. I’d slipped stepping off the curb and his reflex had been instant fingers wrapping around my wrist, steadying me. He hadn’t let go right away.

For a moment, the noise of the city fell away. “You okay?” he’d asked, a little too softly.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “You?”

His grip had tightened fractionally before he released me.

“Always,” he said, but the lie had been threaded straight through his voice.

Cracks had formed, quiet and invisible to everyone else. But I’d felt every one.

And standing there in my apartment now, inches away from him, all those memories pressed in on the present like the walls were closing around us.

“You can’t save everyone, Javi,” I said gently.

“I know,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Doesn’t stop me from trying.”

He finally looked at me again fully this time. Really looked. Like he had been avoiding it before because he knew exactly what would happen if he didn’t.

And in that look was everything he was trying not to feel.

“You shouldn’t be here, Lea,” he said quietly. His voice wasn’t angry, it wasn’t warning anymore, it was just honest.

“And you shouldn’t be this close to me.”

He was only a breath away now.

“And yet…” I whispered, not moving back.

His eyes dropped to my lips. Just for a second. Long enough. “Yeah,” he said under his breath. “And yet.”

He didn’t step away.

The space between us shrank until I could feel heat radiating off him, that restless energy that never fully settled. His presence filled the room the way a coming storm does. 

“Pack a bag,” he said.

That snapped me out of it. “A what?”

“A bag,” he repeated. The softness from a second ago was gone, replaced by his agent voice. “You’re not staying here tonight.”

“Javier”

“Lea.” He said my name like a command, like he was anchoring me to something. “This place is blown. Too many people know where you live. I should’ve moved you already.”

I crossed my arms. “You don’t get to just come in here and tell me what to do.”

His lips twitched, equal parts frustration and something else, amusement, maybe, or admiration he didn’t know how to express.

“You always this difficult?” he asked.

“Only with men who think they own the room the second they walk in.”

His eyes darkened just slightly at that. A long stare. Then his gaze dropped to my folded arms, lingered, and dragged itself back up with obvious effort.

“This isn’t about control,” he said. “It’s about keeping you breathing.”

“Funny,” I muttered. “That part didn’t bother you much before.”

Something sharp flashed across his face, regret and guilt. That emotional crack again wider this time.

“You were never supposed to matter like this,” he admitted quietly. The room went still. “That’s the problem.”

I hadn’t expected the honesty. It hit harder than any flirtation ever could.

“You make it hard to stay detached,” he continued. “Hard to think straight. Hard to sleep.” A bitter exhale. “And that is not something I can afford right now.”

“Then stop showing up at my door,” I said softly.

He didn’t respond. Just looked at me again, like he was memorising something he told himself he’d have to lose.

Then, a knock at the door, it wasn't sharp like his had been, it was slow and deliberate.

Both of us froze.

Javier turned instantly, hand moving toward his gun. He motioned for me to stay behind him as he stepped toward the door.

“Stay quiet,” he murmured.

The knock came again. Louder this time.

“Lea,” a muffled male voice called. “I know you’re in there.”

My blood went ice cold.

Javier glanced at me over his shoulder. One look was all it took. You know him.

“Open the door,” the man outside continued, humorless now. “We just want to talk.”

Javier moved closer to the frame, positioning himself between the crack and the hallway as he unlocked it just enough to see through.

“What do you want?” he called.

There was a pause, then the voice shifted, curious and cutting.

“Well I’ll be damned… you got yourself a bodyguard now, sweetheart?”

I saw Javier’s jaw tighten. A single vein in his neck pulsed. “She’s not interested in visitors,” he replied coolly. “So I suggest you turn around and walk away.”

“And if I don’t?”

There was a long, loaded silence. Then, very quietly, Javier answered. “Then the last thing you’ll remember is knocking.”

Another pause and then I heard the sound of footsteps retreating. Only then did Javier lock the door again. Deadbolt and chain, every precaution.

He stood there for a second longer, listening before turning back toward me.

“You should’ve told me he’d made contact before,” he said, but there was a tremor beneath the anger.

“I didn’t know it was him,” I whispered. “I hadn’t seen him in months.”

His eyes searched mine, scanning for lies. When he found none, his shoulders dropped slightly, relief mixed with rage.

“I am not losing you because you didn’t want to bother me,” he said.

“You’re not losing me at all,” I replied.

“You don’t get to decide that,” he snapped then froze, realizing the weight of his words.

“I meant…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Dammit.”

The distance between us closed again, this time without words. No bravado and no teasing.

Just two people standing at the edge of something neither of them was supposed to cross.

“Javier…” I said.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his forehead almost touching mine. “Please don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you know me.”

His breath was warm on my cheek. I could feel the restraint in his hands, tight fists at his sides. Every muscle in him was locked in place like he was holding back an entire flood.

His eyes closed for half a second. When they opened, they were darker and hungrier. More pained.

“This is a bad idea,” he said.

“I know.”

For a moment, it looked like he might actually give in.

His breath was uneven now, I could hear it. Feel it against my face, the sensitive skin of my throat. Every line in his body was pulled tight, like a wire ready to snap.

Then, abruptly, he stepped back, not far just enough to break the spell.

“Grab your coat,” he said, turning away from me. “We’re leaving. Now.”

The sudden distance was almost worse than if he’d touched me. My skin felt like it was still waiting for him, every nerve braced for heat that never came.

“You weren’t kidding before, were you?” I murmured. “About this place being blown.”

“No,” he replied quietly, already checking the windows, the locks, the hallway again. “And you being this stubborn is not helping my stress level, for the record.”

I slipped my jacket on, hands trembling just slightly not from fear not entirely.

“You always this bossy?” I asked.

“Only when people I care about are in danger,” he answered without thinking.

He froze the instant the words left his mouth. I slowly looked up at him.

He didn’t look back.

“I didn’t mean–” he started, jaw clenching. Then he exhaled. “Just…move, Lea. Please.”

I didn’t push it, for once I just… listened.

He placed a hand lightly on my back as he guided me down the hallway gentle and protective, lingering one second longer than necessary. Every time someone walked past us, his hand tightened like he was reminding the world that I was under his guard now.

Outside, his car was waiting it was old and unassuming, perfect for disappearing.

“Get in. Keep your head down,” he ordered.

The engine roared to life and we were moving, the city smearing into dark color and streaks of yellow light. Streetlights cut across his face in sharp lines, catching on the bruise at his cheek, the tension in his jaw. One hand gripped the wheel. The other rested rigidly against his thigh. No wasted movement. No softness.

“At least tell me where we’re going,” I said quietly.

“Motel on the edge of town,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road. “The kind nobody notices.”

“Romantic,” I muttered.

He didn’t bite. Didn’t even smirk this time. “Focus,” he said instead.

That made me look at him again properly, searching for something he refused to give. “What exactly is happening, Javier?”

“Right now? We’re getting you somewhere safer than that apartment.”

“And after that?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, the only tell he allowed. “After that depends on what happens between now and then.”

Not us, not feelings, not anything real, it was just the facts. Survival and distance, even while I sat inches away.

Silence settled in the car, thick and heavy with things he refused to voice. The only sound was the hum of the engine and the occasional flick of his indicator cutting through the night.

The motel sign glowed faintly when we pulled in, half the letters burned out, buzzing tiredly against the dark. The world out here felt stalled, forgotten, a place where no one asked questions and no one cared enough to remember names.

He parked, turned the engine off, and sat there one extra second, scanning the lot.

Then he finally spoke again, voice steady, all guard back in place.

“Stay close to me,” he said as he opened his door. “That’s all you need to worry about right now.”

Inside the room, it was small the bedspread was faded, a single lamp on the side table, and the curtains drawn tight.

He locked the door, then the chain and then checked the window. 

He sighed and when he turned back to me did I realize how exhausted he looked.

“You can sit,” he said quieter now. Less agent, more man. “You’re safe here. For tonight.”

“And you?” I asked, while sitting down on the bed.

“I’ll stay up a while.”

“You don’t trust the place?” I murmured

“I don’t trust anything.”

Our eyes found each other again, and this time neither of us looked away. The tension had changed. No more edge, no more teasing. Just truth, stripped down and raw.

“You pulled away back there,” I said softly. “From me.”

His jaw tightened. He took a slow step closer. Then another.

“I had to,” he murmured. “Because the second I let myself forget what I am, I start thinking about things I’m not allowed to want.”

“Like what?” I breathed

“Like you.”

The word settled between us like a confession and a sin.

“I can’t afford to care about anyone,” he continued, voice rough as he sat next to me. “Everyone I’ve ever let get close to me, they pay for it. They get used, they get hurt…Or worse.”

His eyes searched mine,were pained now and honest.

“And somehow,” he whispered, “that hasn’t stopped me from caring about you.”

My chest tightened.

“I look at you and I forget the job, I forget the risks, I start imagining what you’d be like in a world that isn’t on fire. And that’s a fantasy that can get us both killed.”

A quiet, broken breath left him. “So when I pulled away, it wasn’t because I don’t want you,” he said. “It was because I want you too much.”

The room seemed to shrink around us.

“This…whatever it is… it changes everything,” he added. “And if they ever found out how I feel about you, you’d be a target for the rest of your life.”

“And what if I already am?” I asked.

His hand flexed, fighting an instinct. Pain crossed his features. “Then it’s my fault,” he said immediately. No hesitation.

A heavy silence followed that was thick and electric. “Javier…” I said, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t,” he breathed, closing the last few inches between us, forehead almost touching mine. 

His eyes closed for half a second, like he was bracing for impact.

“I’m falling for you, Lea,” he admitted into the quiet. “And that is the one thing I cannot allow myself to do.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” I murmured.

A bitter, breathless laugh escaped him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

His hand brushed mine then no longer accidental. But still careful and still controlled. His thumb ran once over my knuckle like a question he was afraid to ask out loud.

“You have any idea how dangerous that invitation is?” he murmured.

“Yes.” I said softly

“Because you’re not a distraction to me,” he said, his voice thick now. “You’re a weakness.”

“And you’re still here.”

“Because apparently,” he admitted, eyes lifting to meet mine again, “I can’t make myself walk away from you anymore.”

The mattress dipped as he shifted closer. His knee brushed mine and his breath warm, uneven.

His hands came up to my face, firm but loving, like he’d been wanting to memorise me with his palms for months. His mouth met mine, slow at first, like he was giving me one last chance to stop him.

But. I didn’t, neither of us pulled away.

The kiss was everything he was, controlled and desperate, restrained and starving all at once. No rush, just heat and history and too much that couldn’t be ignored anymore. 

He deepened the kiss, slow and inevitable, months of unsaid words pouring into that soft, aching press of his mouth against mine. His hand slid into my hair, his thumb grazing my jaw. Mine found the front of his shirt, gripping lightly as if to anchor myself.

When he finally broke away, his forehead pressed to mine, breath ragged.

“This changes everything,” he whispered.

“I know.”

For a moment, we just stayed like that foreheads touching, eyes closed, breathing the same unsteady air. He didn’t let me go. But he didn’t pull me closer either. Like he was standing on the edge of something he’d spent months avoiding.

“I meant what I said, Lea,” he murmured. “About people getting hurt. About this being dangerous.”

“I’m already in danger every time I’m near you,” I said softly. “At least now I know why.”

His jaw flexed. A tired, almost pained breath left him. “You say that like it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

For a second he just looked at me, like he was trying to solve a problem that didn’t have an answer. Then he gave a short, almost humourless exhale through his nose.

“You make it real hard to remember the rules,” he said.

His eyes finally met mine again, and there was no distance left in them. No agent and no pretending.

“I spent months keeping you at arm’s length. Telling myself it was for your protection,” he added quietly. “Truth is… I was just trying to stop myself from caring.” He paused. “Didn’t work.”

My chest tightened. “And now?” I asked.

He held my gaze, like he’d already surrendered to whatever this was.

“Now I’m in too deep,” he said simply. “And I don’t see a way out that doesn’t hurt like hell.” A breath. “But I don’t think I’m going to walk away either.”

The words hung between us, heavier than the silence that followed.

“Come here,” he murmured, voice rough.

He reached for me.

It wasn’t rushed it was firm and certain. Like instinct finally winning. His arms came around me, pulling me into his chest, his hand sliding up the back of my head, holding me there. Not like a man trying to take something. Like a man making sure I was still there.

I let myself fold into him, my forehead pressing against his collarbone as his grip tightened just a fraction more protective and possessive in the quietest way. The kind of hold that said don’t move, don’t let go, don’t disappear.

I lifted my head slowly, my hands still fisted in the fabric of his shirt. Our faces were so close that our breaths tangled before our lips ever touched. His jaw flexed once, then his mouth found mine again, slower this time, not hurried, or desperate anymore just deliberate. Like he was trying to learn me in the dark.

His hand stayed cupped along my cheek, his thumb barely moving, just resting there like he was afraid of what a single stroke might undo. The other slid to the back of my neck, fingers curling slightly into my hair, grounding me there with him.

The world narrowed to the warmth of his lips and the quiet sound of our breathing mixing. Every careful movement of his mouth, every second he lingered was him testing how far he could go before reality dragged him back again.

I tilted my head instinctively to meet him better, and the faintest, restrained sound left his chest a half breath.

My fingers slid up the front of his shirt, feeling the steady, uneven beat of his heart through the fabric. Fast. Too fast for a man who lived on control. He went rigid for just a moment under my touch, a flicker of hesitation and then kissed me again, deeper this time, as if the fear of it had finally been replaced with need.

It wasn’t a careless kiss. It was loaded, heavy with everything he’d held back frustration, longing, affection he didn’t have a name for yet.

My hands slid up his arms, feeling the tension held in every muscle. He was shaking slightly not with fear, but with everything he hadn’t let himself want.

When my fingers brushed the side of his neck, he made a low sound that he clearly hadn’t planned to make.

“Lea…” he breathed again, but this time it wasn’t a warning. It was almost a plea.

Our knees were brushing against each other, breaths too close, the silence around us thick and heavy. His hand was still tangled in my hair.

His other hand slid to my waist, his movements were slow and deliberate.

He guided me, easing me back onto the mattress, never once breaking the kiss. The bed dipped beneath me as my back met the sheets, and he hovered over me, his arm braced beside my head, his body close but holding back that last inch.

He deepened the kiss, his lips moved against mine with an urgency that made my chest ache, brushing, pressing, tilting, testing. Every shift of his mouth was deliberate, and yet he was losing control I could feel it in the small tremor of his hands at my waist, the way his fingers flexed slightly as he held me close.

Then, tentatively at first, he slipped a little of his tongue against mine, my lips parted instinctively, letting him in, and he deepened the movement just slightly, pressing closer, letting the kiss grow heavier without words.

His hands tightened at my sides, then relaxed again, moving slowly up my ribs and back down as if he was trying to anchor himself, I could feel the way his chest pressed against mine with each shift, the way his head tilted to give him better access, the small, almost inaudible groan that slipped past him as he lost more of the control he’d been clinging to all night.

He pulled back just enough for our noses to brush.

“Stop,” he breathed, voice rough, almost breaking. “Say it… tell me to stop, because I... I can’t.”

I didn’t, I rested my hand on his jaw and then wrapped my arms around him instinctively, pulling him closer, feeling the heat and tension of him pressing into me. 

And whatever wall he’d been holding up crumbled.

His lips left mine for just a moment, only to trail lower, brushing across my jawline and down to my neck. Soft, heated kisses followed, deliberate and teasing, sending shivers across my skin. Each press of his lips seemed to leave a mark of fire, and I could feel the tension in him building as much as it was in me.

Then he lingered, holding a single spot just long enough to make my back arch instinctively. My hand clutched at the fabric of his shirt, grounding myself as every nerve in my body lit up with awareness of him.

He pulled back just enough to press one more lingering kiss to my lips. My pulse was racing and my body still humming from the trail of his lips along my neck.

Then he straightened slightly, careful not to break the closeness entirely, and his eyes flicked down, tracing the hem of my shirt. With a slow, measured motion, he lifted it over my head, his fingers grazing my skin as he did.

When he leaned back down, his lips found mine again, soft and insistent, and his hand cupped my cheek, anchoring me to him. I tilted my head, pressing closer, letting my fingers wander to the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, I unfastened each one as he kissed me, his mouth never leaving mine.

He paused just long enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark with desire, before helping me pull the shirt off completely. It slipped from his shoulders and fell to the floor, leaving him bare above the waist. 

His hands moved slowly, deliberately, along my sides, tracing the curves of my body. Every brush of his fingers sent shivers down my spine.

I mirrored him, letting my own fingers wander, brushing over his shoulders, the line of his chest, gripping the fabric of his pants where I could. Each contact was tentative at first, testing boundaries, tasting the tension, until restraint began to slip like sand through fingers.

He groaned softly against my lips, low and rough, and I could feel it vibrate through my hands and into my chest. His lips brushing mine in quick, hungry flicks between slower, more deliberate kisses.

Then he pulled back, his eyes dark and intent. He stood, a tower of shadow and heat, before sinking to his knees in front of me. His hands, sure and steady, found my boots, his fingers working with practiced ease to unlace them before pulling both off. 

His gaze never left mine as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, slowly, deliberately, popping each button. The sound of the zipper lowering was the only thing I could hear over my own heartbeat. He dragged the denim down my legs, tossing them aside, leaving me in nothing but my bra and panties.

He worshipped me with his mouth, starting at my ankles. His lips were a trail of fire, moving up my calf, over my knee. By the time he reached the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, my core was throbbing with a desperate, aching need. He paused, placing a single, gentle kiss directly over my clothed center, and my breath hitched, a sharp, audible gasp.

He moved back up my body, hovering over me, his hands dragging down my sides as if memorising my shape. He captured my lips in a searing kiss, then reached behind me. The snap of my bra clasp was loud in the quiet room. He slid the straps down my arms and tossed the lace aside without a second glance. 

His hand came up to cup my now bare breast, his thumb brushing over the peak.

"So beautiful," he muttered, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that was more of a possessive claim than a compliment. 

He lowered his head, his mouth closing over my breast while his other hand claimed the other, squeezing with a firm, possessive grip. A raw moan came from my throat as his tongue swirled around the hardened peak, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core. His hands were constant, one kneading my breast, the other a firm anchor on my hip, ensuring I couldn't escape the pleasure.

He kissed a path between my breasts, his lips a hot against my skin, trailing down my torso until he reached the hem of my underwear. My breathing came in ragged, shallow pants, my body a taut wire of anticipation, aching for his touch. 

With a deliberate slowness that was its own form of torment, he hooked his fingers into the sides of my underwear, dragging them down my legs. Instead of discarding them, he stuffed the damp lace into his back pocket.

Kneeling before my now exposed and aching core, his eyes were pools of pure, unadulterated desire. He leaned in, and I felt the ghost of his hot breath against my slick folds before he even touched me. 

The first contact was his finger, sliding slowly along my slit, and my back arched off the bed as a sharp gasp escaped me. He watched my face, his gaze intense and unwavering, as he slowly pushed a finger inside.

"More, Javi," I begged, my voice a breathy moan.

He obliged, adding a second finger and curling them just right, hitting a spot that made me see stars. A string of obscenities fell from my lips as he pumped his fingers in and out, a steady, intoxicating rhythm. 

Then he lowered his head, placing a soft, deliberate kiss on my clit before his tongue began to swirl around the sensitive bundle of nerves. The dual sensation was overwhelming, a perfect storm of pleasure. My hands fisted in the sheets, my knuckles white, as Javier worked his magic.

He pulled back, his fingers leaving me achingly empty as he stood. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a slow, deliberate motion that made my stomach clench. My breathing was ragged, my chest heaving as I propped myself up on my elbows to watch him. The air crackled with a raw energy.

He reached for his belt, and with a flick of his wrist, it slid free from the loops in one fluid, practiced motion. He let it drop from his hand, the heavy leather hitting the floor with a dull, decisive thud that echoed the frantic beating of my heart.

Every movement he made was a study in control, a slow, deliberate striptease that was pure torture and absolute bliss. He popped the button of his tight, worn jeans, then drew down the zipper, the sound of each tooth releasing a promise of what was to come.

He removed his jeans, kicking them aside, leaving him in only a pair of black boxers that did little to hide the bulge straining against the fabric. My eyes widened, and a small, knowing smirk played on his lips.

He’d caught me staring. He palmed himself through the cotton, stroking his length a couple of times, his eyes locked on mine, before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pulling them down.

His cock sprang free, hard and thick, exactly as I’d always imagined. I’d seen the outline in his jeans a hundred times, a prominent ridge that was impossible to ignore. My mind had wandered, I’ll admit, calculating the possibility, but now, seeing it in the flesh, my suspicions were not just confirmed, they were gloriously exceeded. He stepped out of the underwear, leaving him completely, powerfully nude in the dim light.

He came down over me, caging my body with his, his hands braced on either side of my head. The heat radiating from his skin was intoxicating. He looked down at me, his dark eyes searching mine, a silent question hanging in the air. 

He needed to know this was still what I wanted. The flush on my cheeks, the way I bit my lower lip the raw desire I knew was shining in my eyes that was all the answer he needed.

He positioned himself, the broad, head of his cock nudging against my slick entrance. He didn’t push in, not yet. He teased, coating himself in my wetness, dragging the tip through my folds until I was squirming beneath him, desperate for more.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he began to press inside. I gasped at the intense, stretching pressure, my body yielding to his, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down, needing him closer, needing all of him.

A raw moan came from my throat as he filled me completely, stretching me until there was no part of me he hadn't touched. He stayed perfectly still for a moment, letting my body adjust to his overwhelming size. 

He kissed me then, a burning, hungry kiss that was consuming, his lips claiming mine with a desperate need that mirrored my own. His hands roamed my body, as if he needed to memorise the curve of my hip, the line of my ribs, the dip of my waist, to feel every single part of me under his fingertips.

One hand clamped down on my hip, his grip firm and possessive, a silent command to hold still and take what he was giving. The other cupped my breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak in a slow, maddening circle that sent sparks shooting through my veins. 

He began to move, his body rocking into mine with a slow, deliberate rhythm at first, giving me time to accommodate the sheer force of him. But he was watching me, his dark eyes trained on my face, feeling the subtle shift in my body as the tension melted away, replaced by a desperate, aching need for more. 

The moment he felt me relax, felt my hips rise to meet his, the control snapped.He started to thrust faster, the measured pace dissolving into a raw, primal rhythm. His grip on my hips tightened, his movements becoming deeper and more demanding, each powerful stroke driving a sharp gasp from my lips as he claimed me completely.

A deep, guttural moan escaped me “Javier”, a sound of pure relief and overwhelming pleasure. This was the ache I had been trying to ignore, the craving I hadn't dared to name, and now it was being soothed by the very man who had caused it.

My legs wrapped around his waist of their own volition, pulling him deeper, changing the angle until he was hitting that perfect, secret spot deep inside me. My back arched off the bed, a desperate bow of pleasure, and my fingernails dug into the hard muscle of his back, leaving marks in his skin. 

The room was filled with the sound of our bodies the creak of the bed frame, my breathless cries, and the low, ragged grunts that tore from Javier’s throat with every powerful thrust.

He was a man who understood control, and he used it now like a weapon. Each movement was measured, devastatingly precise, a controlled slide out followed by a deep, grinding thrust in that hit me exactly where I needed it, over and over again.

His hips rolled into me, a unhurried, possessive rhythm. His lips crashed down on mine once more, swallowing my moans, his tongue claiming my mouth with the same dominating authority his body was claiming my core. His hands never stilled, the one on my hip guiding me, the other on my breast kneading, reminding me that every part of me belonged to him in this moment.

In a fluid, powerful motion, Javier’s arms wrapped around my back, and with a strength that stole my breath, he pulled me up and over, seating me fully upon him. The shift was seamless, and suddenly I was straddling him, our chests pressed flush together in the new, intimate position. 

His hands were everywhere, a brand of possession that left no doubt who was truly guiding this rhythm. His grip on my waist the firm command that dictated every roll and grind.

His hips began to move in a devastatingly perfect motion, a slow, deep circle that ground him into my core. A raw, guttural sound tore from his throat, a ragged “oh fuck Lea” that was a vibration against my ear, a praise and a surrender all at once. 

I threw one arm back, planting my hand on the bed to steady myself against the invasion of pleasure, arching into him. His arm remained tight around me, holding me close, his touch a desperate promise that he could never bear to let go.

It was his hands, though, that told the true story of his need. One hand slid from my waist to my hip, his fingers digging in hard, anchoring me to him as he thrust up from below. The other was wandering around my body, like hew was worshipping me with his palms. 

His hand swept up the curve of my spine, making me shudder, then traced the line of my shoulder blades before skimming back down to the dip of my waist. He was touching, memorising and claiming every inch of me, as if he couldn't decide which part of me he needed to feel more.

He set the pace once again, his upward thrusts becoming harder, deeper, each one a deliberate stroke that sent shockwaves of ecstasy radiating through me, building a tension so intense it felt like it could shatter the very air between us.

My fingers tangled in the damp hair at his nape, holding on for dear life as he captured my mouth in a searing kiss. It was a messy, desperate thing, all teeth and tongue, and with every powerful upward thrust, a deep groan came from his chest and vibrated directly into me. 

I let my head fall back, the arch of my spine a silent offering to the overwhelming pleasure that was building, coiling tight in my core. "Fuck, Javi," I sobbed, his name a prayer and a curse on my lips as he hit that spot inside me again and again.

His head followed my movement, dipping forward to press his face against my chest. He was a man possessed, his mouth hot and worshiping as he rained kisses across every inch of exposed skin.

He traced the valley between my breasts with his tongue, a slow, deliberate torture that made my entire body tremble, before his lips closed around one hardened nipple. He sucked, hard, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through me, and then gave the other the same devoted attention.

The dual sensations were too much, a perfect, beautiful agony. I dragged my head back down, fumbling to find his lips again, needing to taste him, to breathe him in as he continued that deep, perfect rhythm, his hips rolling in a relentless motion that was pushing me closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

“Javier,” I whimpered, the sound thin and ragged, barely audible over the frantic rhythm of our bodies. “I… I’m so close.” a desperate plea I could barely form. My fingers dug into the sweat slick skin of his shoulders, my nails surely leaving marks in his flesh as his every upward thrust sent a sharp, electric jolt through me. My entire body shivered, a fine tremor starting in my limbs and spreading inward, a prelude to the earthquake I knew was coming.

His movements faltered for a fraction of a second, his head lifting from my chest. His dark eyes, usually so guarded and sharp, were now wild and burning with intensity. 

He saw the desperate plea on my face, the way my body was trembling on the very edge of release. A low, possessive growl rumbled in his chest, the sound vibrating through my entire being.

“Yes baby,” he rasped, his voice a rough,. “Let go for me.” His words were a command, that shattered what little control I had left. The hand on my hip slid down, his fingers pressing hard into the flesh of my ass, pulling me down to meet his next thrust with bruising force. 

He ground into me, a deep, circular motion that pushed him impossibly deeper, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves with unerring precision. “That’s it,” he groaned, his own control clearly fraying. 

His words were the final straw. The permission, the command, the raw need in his voice it all combined into a blinding white light behind my eyes. The tension that had been winding tighter and tighter in my core finally snapped, and my orgasm crashed over me with the force of a tidal wave.

A silent scream tore from my throat as my body convulsed, my inner muscles clamping down on him in a series of powerful, rhythmic pulses. Wave after wave of exquisite pleasure washed through me, so intense it bordered on pain, leaving me a trembling, boneless mess in his arms.

Javier drank in my reaction, his hands roaming my body with a renewed sense of purpose as he rode out my climax. One hand splayed across my lower back, holding me steady, while the other cupped the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. 

He peppered my face with frantic, open-mouthed kisses my forehead, my eyelids, the corner of my mouth, my jaw as if he were trying to taste the very essence of my release. “Fuck,” he groaned against my skin, his voice thick with awe and his own impending climax. “So fucking beautiful.”

The feeling of me shattering around him was his undoing. With a deep, guttural groan, he drove into me one last time, burying himself deep. His body went rigid, his arms banding around me as he found his own release. I felt the hot, thick pulse of him deep inside, a final, possessive flood that marked me as his in the most primal way imaginable.

We collapsed against each other, a tangle of limbs and heaving chests. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the only sounds our ragged gasps for air. For a long moment, we were still, his forehead resting against mine as we both drifted down from the dizzying heights.

His hands, which had been so demanding and possessive moments before, softened their grip. They began to move again, but this time with a slow, reverent gentleness. 

His thumbs stroked the sweat from my temples, his fingers traced the curve of my spine, his palms smoothed over my hips and thighs, as if he were savoring the landscape of my body. 

He tilted his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that was the complete opposite of what had come before slow, deep, and impossibly tender. It wasn’t about urgency now. It was about closeness. When he finally pulled back, he stayed close. Still cradling my face. 

Neither of us spoke at first.

The silence wasn’t awkward. It was loaded with meaning, with consequence, with everything we’d been too afraid to say until now.

“So…” My voice came out softer than I meant it to. “What does this mean for us?”

He let out a slow breath through his nose, something between a laugh and a sigh. His thumbs paused against my cheeks.

“Us,” he repeated quietly, like the word itself was dangerous.

He shifted slightly, his forehead settling against mine again. Not pulling away, but not pretending this was simple either.

“It means I’m screwed,” he said honestly.

I huffed a breath of a laugh despite the ache in my chest. “That’s your big answer?”

His eyes lifted to meet mine, no joking in them now. 

“It means I crossed a line I don’t cross,” he continued. “It means I’m going to wake up tomorrow and tell myself this can’t happen again. And then I’m probably going to lie to myself about it for the rest of the day.”

He paused “And it means, whether I want it to or not, you’re officially the one thing in my life I’m not willing to pretend I don’t care about anymore.”

My heart skipped.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing, Javier.” I whispered 

“No,” he admitted quietly. “It’s everything. That’s the problem.”

He brushed his thumb along my lower lip, eyes dropping to it for half a second. “In my world, caring about someone is a weakness. It gets used…It gets punished.”

His gaze lifted again. “But I don’t seem to know how to stop with you.”

He leaned in once more, pressing his forehead to mine, a silent confession in the touch alone.

“So what now?” I asked again, softer this time.

His answer came without hesitation.

“Now I protect you,” he said. “And I figure the rest out later.”

Then, gently, like this was something precious he was afraid to break, he leaned in and kissed me again. His lips rested against mine for a long, quiet moment, a promise without words.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead touched mine once more, breath warm against my cheek.

“Get some sleep, Lea,” he said softly. “I’ll be right here.”

Find other parts here

I stayed awake most of the night, lying against Negan’s chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat my lifeline, my proof he was still here. Every rise and fall of his breathing kept me anchored. I didn’t dare close my eyes, not even for a moment. If I slept, if I let myself drift, something might happen… and I wouldn’t be there.

Carson came in twice to check on him. Negan never stirred, even as Carson examined the wound, counted his breaths, checked his pulse. The second time, Carson paused when he saw me still wide awake, my fear not even slightly hidden.

“He’s okay, Mae,” he whispered gently. “You can sleep. He’s steady.” He said it quietly, like he knew I wouldn’t believe it unless he spoke soft. I managed a small smile, but the terror in my chest didn’t ease. Carson finished his checks and slipped out, leaving us in the dim quiet again.

I stayed right where I was, watching the slow rise and fall of Negan’s chest until the first hints of dawn crept through the curtains. I couldn’t sleep not when every breath he took felt like something I had to guard, protect, count. If something changed… if something went wrong, I needed to be awake.

My hand rested over his heart, and as the early morning light glinted across my fingers, the ring on my hand caught the glow. I stared at it felt the warmth of it, the weight of it and my stomach twisted. I smiled, but the sight also made me ache.

He’d been carrying this ring. How long? Days? Weeks? How long had he been preparing for this moment, while I had no idea?

My thumb brushed over the ring, the metal warm now from my skin. It felt too heavy for something so small. Heavy with everything we almost didn’t get to have.

The longer I stared at it, the harder my throat tightened. He’d found this. Chosen this. Carried it with him through hell and back, waiting for the right moment. Waiting for me.

And tonight… I almost watched him die with it still in his pocket.

I blinked rapidly, trying to swallow the knot forming in my chest. I lifted my hand from his heart, holding it in front of me, turning it slightly so the light caught the surface again. A soft, shaky breath escaped my lips.

My breath shook as I lowered my hand back to his chest, grounding myself in the steady rise and fall beneath my palm. I blinked away the last of the tears, exhaling slowly.

That was when I felt it, a faint shift beneath my cheek small, slow, but intentional.

I lifted my head, barely an inch, and saw his eyelids twitch. His brows pulled together like even waking up was a fight he had to push through. Another breath, rough and uneven, dragged its way into his lungs.

Then his eyes cracked open, just barely, enough to find me.

His gaze was heavy, unfocused at first, then it sharpened, softening the second he realized I was there.

“Mae…” he breathed. It was barely a sound more exhale than word but it was meant for me.

I straightened a little, brushing my fingers through his hair. “Hey… hey, take it easy. I’m right here.”

His eyes drifted down to my face, lingering under my eyes, my cheeks, the exhaustion I hadn’t even realized was written all over me. A weak frown creased his brow.

“You didn’t… sleep,” he rasped.

His hand still trembling, still weak lifted just a couple inches off the bed before faltering. I caught it quickly, cupping it in both of mine and bringing it to my cheek. His fingers twitched against my skin like he was trying to wipe away the exhaustion himself.

“You should’ve… slept,” he whispered, voice hoarse and thin, barely more than breath.

I shook my head, fighting the sting in my eyes. “I’m okay, baby. I just… I needed to know you were okay.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips weak, but real. “I’m okay,” he managed, and something warm flickered back into his face.

I shifted, starting to push myself up. “I’ll go get Carson”

But his fingers curled around my hand before I could move an inch. Weak, but determined.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, groggy and earnest.

I froze, looking down at him. The small smile, the little bit of color returning, the tired eyes that still somehow softened when they found me that made my heart pulled tight.

“Okay,” I breathed, settling back down against him. “I’ll stay.”

I lay my head back on his chest, his heartbeat steady and warm beneath my ear. His arm still weak, still trembling slipped around me, trying its best to hold me close.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you too,” he breathed, his voice rough and worn, like he was fighting to stay awake just for me. But I could see the heaviness in his eyes, the way sleep kept pulling at him.

“Go back to sleep, baby. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” I murmured.

He shifted closer, pressing himself gently against me, clinging to whatever strength he had left. I felt the air leave his chest in a slow, peaceful exhale as my hand slid into his. His fingers curled around mine, and little by little, his breathing fell back into that soft, steady rhythm.

I stayed with him, listening to each rise and fall, letting the sound wash over me. Minutes slipped by. And finally, after the longest night of my life, the exhaustion wrapped around me, warm and heavy. With his heartbeat under my ear and his hand in mine, I let my eyes drift closed and fell asleep too.

I didn’t know how long I slept, it could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours. All I knew was the steady rise and fall beneath my cheek and the warmth of his hand still tangled up in mine.

A gentle shake on my shoulder pulled me up from sleep.

“Mae,” Carson whispered, voice low so he wouldn’t startle either of us. “Hey sorry. I need to wake you.”

I blinked, disoriented for a moment, my cheek still pressed to Negan’s chest. His breathing was slow but steady. His skin warmer than it had been then last night, it was alive.

Carson gave me an apologetic smile. “I need to give him his pain meds before the last dose wears off. And we’ve gotta check the wound again, make sure there’s no bleeding or swelling.”

I nodded, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to shake off the grogginess. I carefully slid off Negan’s chest without jostling him too much. He stirred, brow twitching, fingers loosening from mine but not letting go entirely.

Carson stepped closer, lowering his voice even more. “He’s stable. Better than I expected for how bad he was.” His eyes softened. “You did good, Mae.”

My throat tightened at that, but I nodded again.

“Can you support him a little?” Carson asked gently.

I shifted closer, slipping my arm behind Negan’s shoulders as Carson worked. Negan let out a quiet groan at the movement, eyes fluttering but not fully waking. I whispered, “It’s okay, baby… just your meds. I’ve got you.”

Carson checked the stitches carefully, wiping away a bit of dried blood, listening to his breathing, his heart. His movements were quick but cautious, the kind of careful that came from knowing how close things had come to going wrong.

“There,” he said finally, easing Negan back down. “Everything looks good. His breathing’s clear. No signs of infection. He’s still dehydrated, so keep the canteen nearby for when he wakes up properly. And he’ll need another check in a few hours.”

I nodded, brushing my fingers through Negan’s hair as he settled again, his head turning toward my touch even in sleep.

Carson gave me a small smile on his way out. “Try to rest if you can. He’s on the mend.”

The door clicked softly behind him, leaving the room quiet again just the soft hum of the generator and the man I loved breathing beside me.

I let out a long, shaky exhale and leaned my forehead against Negan’s temple, whispering, “You’re okay. You’re here. I’ve got you.”

I stayed beside him long after Carson left, one hand resting gently on Negan’s shoulder, the other tangled loosely with his. The room was quiet again, the kind of quiet that made every breath he took sound like a gift.

A soft knock tapped at the door before it creaked open. “Mae?” Laura’s voice slipped in gently, cautious, like she wasn’t sure if I was asleep.

I looked up, exhausted but awake. 

She stepped inside, nudging the door shut with her boot. She carried a plate with something warm on it, and a pack of smokes in her other hand.

“I brought you food,” she said, setting the plate on the small table. “And… these.” She held up the box with a tiny lopsided smile. “Don’t kill me, but I snagged your smokes from your room. Thought you might need ’em.”

A breath hitched out of me that was half a laugh and a sob. “ Laura…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said lightly, even though worry pulled at her features. “Don’t get all sentimental on me. I’m allergic.”

She walked closer, her eyes scanning Negan, the stitches, the bandages, the dark circles still under his eyes. Then she looked at me really looked at me.

“Mae… you look dead on your feet.”

“I’m fine,” I whispered automatically, because that was easier than the truth.

Laura raised an eyebrow, unimpressed in the way only she could manage. “Mae”

I shook my head, looking back down at Negan. “I just… can’t leave him. Not yet.”

She softened, her voice dropping. “I know.” She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Eat something. Even just a few bites.”

I let out a shaky breath, staring at the food like it belonged in another world. But Laura nudged my arm lightly.

“For me?” she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips. “And because if you die of exhaustion, Negan’s gonna wake up and blame all of us.”

That finally dragged a small, hoarse chuckle out of me.

“Okay,” I murmured, reaching for the plate.

Laura watched me take a slow, careful bite. Satisfied, she nodded once, then glanced back at Negan.

“He looks better than he did last night,” she said softly.

I swallowed hard. “He almost didn’t make it.”

“I know.” Her voice thickened just barely. “But he did, because you kept him here.”

I blinked hard, forcing back the burn behind my eyes. My hand rested on his chest, and my gaze drifted down to the ring again the engagement ring that hadn’t left my finger since he’d pushed it onto my finger.

Laura followed my stare and her eyes widened, like the breath had been knocked out of her.

Laura’s gaze snapped from my face back down to the ring, her eyes going huge. “Whoa, hold on.” She pointed at my hand like it might vanish. “Is that… is that what I think it is?”

I swallowed. “Yeah,” I whispered. “He… he asked me in the truck. While he was… bleeding out.”

Laura blinked, then let out a low laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Man almost dies, and he still finds time to propose to you.”

A shaky smile tugged at mine. “That’s him,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nudged my shoulder gently, eyes warm but still a little stunned. “Mae… it’s beautiful. And honestly” She exhaled, emotion slipping into her voice. “You two are a disaster and a miracle rolled into one.”

I let out a weak laugh, wiping quickly at the corner of my eye. “Tell me about it.”

Laura shook her head with a knowing smile. “I knew it was you and him from the start. I’m telling you” she pointed gently between the two of us, “that kind of connection? Even if it started with hate. That’s one in a damn million.”

Her voice softened, dropping into something more honest. “I haven’t seen him talk about anyone the way he talks about you since… his wife. You know, before he became Mr. Big Bad Savior.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I brushed it away before my fingers drifted into Negan’s hair. He looked almost impossibly peaceful like this, and I couldn’t stop the soft smile pulling at my lips. 

Laura watched me for a long moment, her expression turning warm, almost tender. “And the way you look at him…” She paused, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe she was seeing it. “That’s how I know you two are forever.”

My chest tightened, full and aching all at once as I kept stroking his hair, holding onto the man I almost lost.

Laura gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and whispered, “I’ll leave you to him. Don’t forget to eat something, alright?”

I nodded, grateful, and she slipped out quietly. I looked at the plate of food she’d brought, picking at it absently while my eyes stayed glued to Negan. Even asleep, his chest rose and fell steadily, and I couldn’t stop myself from brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

Once I’d eaten enough to keep my stomach from protesting, I grabbed my pack of cigarettes and stepped outside for a quick smoke. The warm midday air brushed against my face, sunlight spilling over everything. I stayed close enough to the window to keep an eye on him. Every inhale felt heavy, every exhale shaky, but it grounded me.

I leaned against the railing, the cool morning air on my face, cigarette in hand, still keeping my eyes on Negan through the window. That’s when I caught their voices low, tense, carried across the courtyard.

“I don’t trust him,” Daryl muttered, voice rough, clipped, but filled with honest worry.

Rick ran a hand over his face, jaw tight, letting out a long, heavy sigh that carried all the weight of nights he hadn’t slept, of battles fought and lives lost. “Neither do I,” he admitted, voice low and trembling slightly with frustration. 

“And damn it, I’m not happy about it not one damn bit. But… Mae trusts him. Hell, more than that… she loves him. I’ve heard the way she talks about him, the way she fights to keep him alive in her words. This isn’t some woman under a spell. This is someone completely, utterly, painfully in love.”

He shook his head, a bitter, tight sound escaping his chest. His eyes darkened, emotion thickening his tone. “I just… I wish I could’ve protected her from all of this from him, from the dangers he drags her into. But last night… in that car, listening to her…I knew. I knew she’s in love with him, and he… he loves her right back. 

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy, the words settling heavy between them. “So… what do we do?”

Rick’s gaze hardened, but there was a softness there too a father’s protectiveness, raw and unshakable. “We hope he pulls through. For her sake. I’ve known Mae a long time, seen a lot of her,  but never like this. Never like this with anyone. If she loses him… I don’t know how she’d ever come back. I can’t… I won’t let her go through that. 

I took a careful step back, pressing myself against the wall so they wouldn’t see me out here, wouldn’t know I’d overheard their conversation. My hands still trembled as I finished my smoke, the smoke curling lazily into the morning air.

Then I turned and made my way back inside. Negan was still asleep, chest rising and falling steadily, the light catching the sides of his face. I couldn’t help the small, smile that tugged at my lips. He was alive. Breathing. His face… so beautiful, so achingly him.

I sank down beside him, my hand brushing over his hair, and felt it all the weight of the night, the fear, the relief, the overwhelming love. Everything felt whole again, like I could finally breathe, knowing he was here, right in front of me, and okay.

Negan stirred, a groan escaping his throat as his eyes fluttered open, squinting against the sunlight filtering in through the window.. He was still weak, each movement careful, but more coherent this time. I leaned closer, brushing my hand along his cheek.

“You’re awake,” I whispered, relief crashing through me.

He let out a hoarse laugh, shaky but unmistakably him. “Yeah… barely.” His fingers twitched weakly, brushing against mine. “Feel like I got hit by a damn truck”

I smiled through my tears, gripping his hand. “You scared me half to death, you know that?”

“I… know,” he rasped, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. “But look… I’m here. Still kicking for you.”

My chest pulled tight, the emotion swelling too big to swallow. I leaned forward until my forehead rested against his. “I love you,” I whispered, the words trembling out of me.

“I love you too, baby,” he murmured rough, soft, steady in all the ways that counted.

​​Then his gaze drifted down to my hand, to the ring resting snugly on my ring finger. His smirk widened, this time with a spark of warmth and pride beneath the exhaustion.

“Well,” he croaked, voice low and amused, “not exactly the way I planned to propose…but hell, it was one hell of a proposal.”

A laugh slipped out of me shaky, but real. “Yeah it was. Very you.”

He caught my hand, lifting it slowly, deliberately, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. His eyes stayed on mine as he did it, warm and bright despite the pain. Then he guided my hand to his chest, holding it there, his thumb brushing lightly along my fingers.

“So,” he said, that trademark grin tugging at his lips, “guess I can start callin’ you Mrs. Smith soon.”

I blinked. Then laughed. “Smith? Your last name is Smith?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is. And it’s about to be yours,” he said, smug as ever.

“I never would’ve guessed you had such a normal last name. I mean ‘Negan’ doesn’t exactly scream suburban family man.” I chuckled.

“Hey now,” he shot back, laughing under his breath. “You love my name. Especially when you’re screaming it begging for more. If I recall correctly.”

“Negan” My cheeks warmed and I shoved him lightly. “Looks like you’re feeling more like yourself.”

“That’s ’cause I got you right here,” he murmured, squeezing my hand on his chest.

I couldn’t help it, I smiled and leaned down, kissing him softly at first, then deeper when he kissed me back. His hand slid up to the back of my head, fingers curling into my hair, guiding me gently. He had a little more strength now, enough to pull me closer, enough to make it feel real, alive.

When I finally pulled back, his grin was huge, but there was something else under it, thin and fragile.

“Damn,” he breathed, voice rough with honesty he didn’t mean to show, “I thought I was never gonna get to do that again.”

My chest tightened. “Neither did I… I thought I lost you, Negan. I really thought” My voice cracked. I couldn’t hide it, couldn’t hide the way my eyes begged him not to disappear on me again.

“I know,” he murmured, his expression softening in that rare, unguarded way he only ever gave me. “But you didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”

He took my hand again, slowly lifting it to his chest and pressing it over his heart. Then he laid his hand over mine, holding it there firmly.

“Feel that?” he asked, eyes locked on mine. “That’s me. Alive. Heart beatin’ for you.”

A breath shuddered out of me too big, too shaky and despite trying to hold it together, a tear slipped free. He reached up immediately, brushing it away with his thumb, gentle as ever.

“Don’t cry, babygirl,” he whispered, tugging me in closer until our foreheads touched. “I’m right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Not leavin’ you. Not ever.”

I kissed him again this time because I needed it. Needed to feel him, warm and alive beneath my hands. Another tear slid down my cheek as our lips met, and when I finally pulled back, he saw everything written in my eyes the fear, the relief, the almost loss.

He reached up instantly, wiping my tears with the pad of his thumb. “Hey… it’s okay,” he murmured, pulling me against him with what strength he had. His arms wrapped around me, solid enough to make the world tilt back into place. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

His hand slid into my hair, stroking it in slow, grounding motions. “I fought like hell to stay,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “I heard your voice… felt your hands on me. My body was tryin’ to shut down, but I kept draggin’ myself back to you. To the sound of you.” 

He pulled back just enough to look at me, really look at me. “I heard every damn word you said. You kept me alive, Mae. You.”

My breath caught, another tear slipping free, and he gently brushed it away again, shaking his head like he refused to let me feel guilty for it.

“And listen to me, baby girl,” he said, his tone shifting still tender, but full of that familiar Negan fire. “I’m gonna throw you the biggest goddamn wedding this world has ever seen. I’m talkin’ pre-apocalypse big. I’m gonna marry the hell outta you, you’re gonna be my wife, I’m gonna be your husband, and we’re gonna get our damn happily ever after.”

A watery laugh escaped me. “We’re… we’re really gonna have a wedding?”

“Of course we are,” he grinned. “And it’s gonna be the best fuckin’ wedding this wasteland’s ever seen. You’ll be in some pretty white dress lookin’ like a goddamn angel, I’ll be in a handsome ass suit hell, I’ll even have Officer Friendly walk you down the aisle.”

I let out a loud laugh despite myself. “Mm, yeah… Rick would love that,” I said, dripping sarcasm.

We both laughed, the sound warm and alive between us, and then he pulled me closer again until our foreheads touched.

“I’m making this happen,” he whispered. “For you. For us. You’re gonna be completely, utterly mine.”

A soft smile tugged at my lips. “I already am.”

His breath hitched just slightly just enough for me to feel it before he pulled me into another kiss. This one slow, sure, and full of promise.

I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against his, still smiling through the remnants of my tears. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” I murmured with a soft laugh. “Kinda… weirdly perfect for us.”

He let out a low chuckle, thumb brushing my cheek in that slow, tender way he probably didn’t even realize he did. “Damn straight it is,” he said, smirk warm and full of pride. “Has a nice fuckin’ ring to it.”

I was about to tease him again when a hesitant knock thudded against the door.

We both froze.

A second later, it cracked open and Dr. Carson peeked inside, eyes widening the moment he realized he’d just interrupted something intimate. “Uh sorry,” he stammered, clearing his throat. “Didn’t mean to… intrude. Just need to check on him. Vitals, stitches, the usual.”

Negan let out a dramatic groan. “Great. Cockblockin’ doctor incoming.”

Carson shot him a dry look. “Yes, Negan, I’m sure that’s the main danger to your health today.”

I laughed under my breath, scooting gently to the side so Carson could step in while Negan still kept one hand tangled with mine. His thumb brushed over my knuckles like he wasn’t letting go for anything not a doctor, not the world ending, nothing.

Carson stepped fully inside, reaching for his kit on the small table beside the bed. “Alright,” he sighed, slipping into doctor mode, “let’s see how our miracle patient is doing.”

Negan scoffed. “Miracle? Please. I’m just too damn stubborn to die.”

Carson lifted a brow. “Yes, well… let’s hope your organs share that confidence.”

I squeezed Negan’s hand, and he squeezed back, stubbornly refusing to let go even as Carson began his checks. He lifted Negan’s wrist, feeling for his pulse.

“Hear that?” Negan smirked at me. “Strong as hell. Told you I’m tough.”

Carson didn’t even look up. “Your pulse is elevated because you’re talking too much.”

Negan blinked. “Wow. Rude.”

I bit back a laugh, brushing my thumb lightly over the back of his hand.

Carson moved on, stethoscope pressed gently to Negan’s chest. “Deep breath.”

Negan inhaled slowly, eyes never leaving mine, like he needed to make sure I wasn’t going anywhere. Carson nodded. “Breathing’s still strained, but better than last night.”

“See?” Negan said, voice smug. “I’m improving.”

“Mm-hmm,” Carson replied, utterly unimpressed as he lifted the blanket to check the bandaged wound. I tensed immediately, instinctively leaning in. Negan felt it of course he did because his fingers curled around mine.

Carson peeled back the dressing just enough to look. “No infection. Good color. You’re lucky she got you here when she did.”

Negan turned his head, giving me a look that softened every muscle in his face. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m real damn lucky.”

My throat tightened.

Carson cleared his throat, purposely breaking the moment. “I’m going to clean this and give you more antibiotics. It’ll sting.”

Negan grumbled. “Everything stings. I’ve been stabbed, shot, beaten, and–”

“And you’re still talking,” Carson cut in dryly. “So you’re fine.”

I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh as Negan glared at him like a sulking child. Carson worked quickly, replacing the dressing and checking his oxygen levels. When he was done, he gave me a reassuring nod. “He’s stable. Still needs rest. And pain meds in an hour.”

Negan smirked. “Bring the good stuff.”

Carson packed up his supplies. “I’ll bring what won’t kill you. You’re welcome.”

Then he looked at me gentle, knowing. “He’s doing better. You can,  breathe a little easier.”

Carson gave one last look at Negan, then at our joined hands, and huffed a small smile before heading for the door.

I nodded, heart loosening just a bit. “Thank you.”

Carson’s expression softened. “You’re welcome” he said quietly and the door shut behind him.

Negan exhaled, exhaustion creeping back into his features. I rubbed my thumb over his hand again, and he closed his eyes like he could fall asleep just from that touch alone.

“You okay?” I whispered.

People always say that time feels like it doesn’t exist in a crisis, and they were right. Everything was moving in slow motion and yet all at once, a blur of sound and color. 

Tears burned my eyes as I pressed against him, desperate, whispering his name like it could somehow pull him back to me.

“Daryl! Help please!” I gasped, my voice shaking.

Daryl’s eyes widened as he took in the blood soaking Negan’s side. Without a word, he moved to me. “We’ve got to get him out of here,” I pleaded, urgency tightening every syllable.

Together, we lifted Negan between us. One of his arms draped over me, the other over Daryl, and I gritted my teeth, fighting back panic.

“We’ve got to move. Now,” I said, scanning the surrounding crowd of walkers. Frantically, we searched for an opening.

“There!” Daryl shouted, pointing toward a narrow break in the horde, just enough for us to slip through.

Negan slumped against us, his body weak, clutching at the wound as Daryl and I guided each step. Each movement was hard, every breath a ragged hiss, but he refused to go down completely.

We slipped through the narrow break in the horde, the groans and shoves of the dead pressing in around us like a living wall. My heart hammered in my chest, hands slick with sweat and blood, but I held him steady, whispering his name, trying to anchor him to the world.

“Negan, stay awake. Keep moving,” I urged, panic threading my voice.

He gave a crooked, pained grin, rough and half-lidded. “Hey, babygirl… looks like I picked the perfect partner in crime. Ain’t many who can keep me upright while I’m bleeding out, huh?”

I squeezed his arm, my heart hammering. “You’re not getting out of this on me, Negan. Keep moving.”

I swallowed hard, a mix of exasperation and relief flooding me. He was talking… still fighting. By the time we reached the treeline, the others had already made it out and were waiting for us.

“We heard a gunshot,” Rick said, his eyes sharp, scanning the treeline.

I swallowed hard, my voice breaking. “It’s Negan… they shot him. We need the evac truck now.”

Rick didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his walkie and radioed in, voice steady but urgent. “We need a truck immediately. One of ours is hit!” His gaze found mine, reading the panic and fear in my eyes, knowing I couldn’t handle losing another… losing him.

The radio crackled back almost instantly. “Copy that. On our way to the pickup point.”

I tightened my grip on Negan as we moved, every step heavy with tension, he sagged between us, every step a battle, but his hand found mine briefly, squeezing with surprising strength.

We pressed on, guiding him forward. His head dropped slightly against my shoulder, and I whispered his name again, over and over, letting him feel that I was there, that I wouldn’t let go.

Every step he took made my heart jump, each wince a knife twisting in my gut. But I kept him steady. I wouldn’t let him fall not here, not now.

“Almost there,” I whispered, more to myself than to him, though he weakly nodded in response, a grimace tugging at his lips.

The clearing finally opened up, and the truck came into view. Its engine roared, headlights cutting through the dimming light. The rest of our group was there, tense, rifles raised, scanning for any remaining threats.

Just before we reached the truck, I grabbed the edge of Negan’s hooded jacket the one we’d smeared with walker guts, now stiff with drying blood and filth and tore it off him. The fabric stuck for a moment, glued to the blood on his side, and he let out a low groan as I pulled it free. I didn’t hesitate I threw the disgusting thing aside.

Then I ripped off my own gore-covered jacket, tossing it to the ground. 

I yanked open the door, voice breaking with fear. “Help get him in!” Daryl released his grip, and I stumbled forward, clutching Negan tighter, trying to keep him upright. His weight sagged into me, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his lips.

“Easy, babygirl… easy…” he rasped, and even in the agony, that familiar cocky edge lingered in his voice, rough and strained.

Finally, Rick stepped in, and together we managed to get him onto the back of the truck. I eased him down, his body trembling, sweat and blood sticking to his skin. Without thinking, I climbed in beside him and rested his head in my lap, hand pressed firmly over his wound, fingers digging in to slow the bleeding.

Rick hurried to the front, rifling through the glove box before returning with a small first-aid kit. “Tie this around him, keep pressure on it,” he instructed, handing me bandages and gauze.

I did as he said, wrapping the bandage tightly around his stomach, wincing as he groaned at the pressure. I pressed harder with my hand over the wound, trying to staunch as much blood as possible.

Rick jumped into the driver’s seat, Daryl into the passenger seat, and the truck lurched forward. “Go to Hilltop,” I urged, voice sharp. “It’s closest. Carson’s brother is there…he will know what to do.”

I looked down at Negan, his eyes fluttering weakly open to meet mine. “Hold on, Negan. Just a bit longer,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

His hand lifted, brushing my cheek with a strength I didn’t know he still had. “So… beautiful… so beautiful,” he murmured, every word rough, fragile and achingly him.

The truck slammed over the uneven ground, each jolt ripping a flinch out of Negan. His grip on my hand tightened, then weakened, then tightened again, like he was wrestling just to stay conscious. 

I held him as steady as I could, my other hand pressed hard over the bleeding, whispering the same words on a loop because it was all I could think to do.

“I’ve got you… just stay with me… we’re almost there… just hold on…”

His eyes fluttered once.

Then again.

And then they slipped shut entirely.

“No Negan.” My voice cracked as I shook him, panic sharp and electric. “Hey! Hey, stay awake! Stay with me!”

“Rick, faster!” I screamed, the words ripping out of me.

From the front seat Rick’s voice came back, firm and urgent. “Keep him awake, Mae! Don’t let him close his eyes talk to him!”

“I’m trying!” I sobbed, shaking harder, my hands slipping on his blood. “Negan, open your eyes! Look at me!”

For a breathless second, nothing happened.

Then slowly, like he was dragging himself out of the deepest dark his eyelids lifted. His gaze was unfocused, glassy, barely there… but there.

Relief and terror crashed through me so hard I almost collapsed over him.

“Please… please don’t leave me,” I whispered, the words trembling so violently they barely sounded like my own. Tears poured down my face, dripping onto his cheek, his neck, mixing with the blood on my hands.

“Negan, I can’t… I can’t lose you. Not you. Not now. Please talk to me stay awake…please just stay with me”

His lips twitched. Just a tiny movement. A breath of a smile.

But it was enough enough to make my chest seize, enough to give me something to hold onto.

“Marry me…” he muttered, barely a breath.

For a second, I thought I imagined it. Then his eyes slipped shut again.

“No no, no, Negan!” I shook him hard, panic exploding through me. “What did you say? Negan, look at me…what did you just say?”

His eyes cracked open again weak, hazy, but locked onto mine. His fingers fumbled clumsily at his jacket, moving slow, trembling, like every inch of motion cost him something.

I guided his hand when it faltered, steadying him, and he finally pulled something free.

His hand lifted between us, shaking. And there resting in his blood-smeared palm was a gold ring.

My breath caught. My world stopped.

“Marry me… Mae,” he rasped, voice raw and breaking, but certain.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

The ring sat in his shaking hand, catching what little light filtered through the truck’s windows. Gold. Simple. Real.

Something he’d been carrying.

Something he’d planned.

Something he feared he’d never get the chance to give me.

My lips parted, but no sound came out. My heart felt like it was tearing itself apart in my chest.

“Negan…” I whispered, my voice so soft it barely existed.

His gaze flickered, his pupils unfocused. He was slipping. He knew it. I knew it.

And still he was staring at me like I was the only thing tethering him to the world. The world blurred to nothing but us.

The truck roared beneath us, bouncing hard over the torn-up ground, but even the violent jolts couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. Rick and Daryl were there close, tense, silent but in that moment, I didn’t care. They weren’t part of this. Not this.

Everything else fell away.

It was just me and him. His blood on my hands. His fading breath. His shaking smile.

All I saw was him.

Negan’s lips trembled into the smallest, broken smile. “Say yes…” he breathed, voice cracking. “Please… say yes… before…”

His voice cut out.

“NO Negan!” I grabbed his face, lifting it, forcing his eyes open with trembling hands. “Don’t you dare don’t you dare do that right now! Look at me! Look at me, Negan!”

His eyes fluttered, rolling, but they focused again barely.

I leaned down, my forehead pressing to his, tears pouring off my jaw. “Yes,” I choked out. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you, I promise, just stay awake Negan, stay with me”

His breath hitched. Relief washed through his features, softening the pain for a fleeting heartbeat.

A ghost of a grin tugged at his mouth.

“Knew you’d… say yes…” he whispered, the words slurring, fading. “Hard… to resist… this much… charm…”

His hand shaking, blood-slick lifted weakly from his chest. I didn’t even realize what he was doing until I felt metal brush my finger.

Slowly, clumsily, he slid the ring onto my hand. A gold band, smeared with blood…his blood, glinting faintly in the dim light.

My breath shattered. A sob tore out of me, raw and uncontrollable.

Rick yelled from the front, “We’re almost there! Mae, keep him awake!”

“I’m trying!” I screamed, clutching Negan to me. “Negan come on keep your eyes open…look at me…look at your fiancée…you hear me? You don’t get to leave me now…YOU DON’T GET TO DIE ON ME!”

His fingers curled weakly into my shirt. Barely there. Barely anything. But still holding on.

The lights of Hilltop finally flashed through the trees ahead. “I love you…” he whispered, barely there, breath shaking.

I clutched him harder, my hand sliding through his hair. “I love you too,” I sobbed. His skin felt cold, too cold, his face washed pale. But somehow there was still a tiny smile on his lips.

I leaned down and kissed him soft, desperate, terrified, he responded with the faintest pressure, a weak, trembling kiss against mine, like he was fighting with everything left in him just to give it back.

“I’m… gonna marry you,” he murmured, that ghost of a grin flickering. His eyes drifted shut again.

“No Negan, no, please don’t close your eyes,” I cried, shaking, trying to keep him awake, keep him here, keep him mine.

The truck lurched to a stop as we pulled into Hilltop’s gates. Rick slammed the brakes, threw his door open and jumped out. I barely registered anything except his voice shouting, “Get Carson! Now!”

The back door was yanked open a second later. I screamed, raw panic tearing out of me “NEGAN! WAKE UP!” But he didn’t move. His eyes stayed shut.

Carson, Rick, Daryl, and a handful of Hilltop people crowded in, ready to grab him.

“His eyes are shut he won’t open them,” I choked out to Rick, barely able to breathe through the tears.

“I know. Come on, let us help him. Get him out, Mae,” Rick said, voice steady, grounding me just enough to move.

They worked fast, all hands reaching in. I kept one arm around Negan as they lifted him. His eyes fluttered open again for a moment slow, unfocused. He slumped over Rick and Daryl, barely conscious as they practically dragged him toward the infirmary.

Inside, they got him onto the bed. I stayed right beside him, refusing to let go.

His eyes blinked open just barely and he found me. A weak smile formed. His hand groped blindly until it caught my wrist.

“My fiancée…” he breathed.

Then he coughed hard and blood spilled from his mouth.

“Negan!” I screamed.

Carson moved fast, back the fabric around the wound. The moment he pressed down, Negan let out a ragged, agonized scream.

“You’re hurting him!” I yelled, tears blurring everything.

Carson looked up sharply, voice steady but urgent. “I know. And right now, hurting him is the only way to save his life.”

Carson didn’t waste a second. He cut his open his blood soaked shirt, hands already stained with Negan’s blood. The room spun around me voices overlapping, footsteps pounding, metal instruments clattering but all I could see was him.

Negan’s breaths were ragged, shallow, slipping.

“BP’s dropping,” one of the Hilltop medics said urgently.

“I need more light,” Carson barked. “And towels now!”

Negan cried out again when Carson pressed deeper into the wound, his back arching, his hand clamping around my wrist with surprising strength for a dying man.

“Mae…” he rasped, voice breaking, eyes barely open. “Don’t… go…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered fiercely, brushing the blood-matted hair from his forehead. “I’m right here. Stay with me. Please.”

But his eyes were wandering, rolling, losing focus again as his strength drained.

Carson’s voice cut through the panic, sharp and fast. “He’s losing too much blood. Someone get me pressure clamps now!”

Negan let out another raw, animal scream as Carson’s hands dug in again. The sound tore right through me.

“STOP, you’re hurting him!” I sobbed, reaching out to pull Carson away.

Rick grabbed my arm immediately. “Mae don’t.”

“He’s killing him!” I shouted, trying to yank free.

Carson snapped without looking up, “I am saving his life. If I stop, he dies, right now. You need to step back.”

“No!” I clung to Negan’s arm, tears streaming uncontrollably. “I’m not leaving him!”

Negan’s hand trembling, weak dragged along my wrist again, his fingers sliding up until they found mine.

“Hey…” he whispered, voice paper-thin. “…still… here…”

The sound shattered me.

Carson suddenly swore under his breath. “He’s crashing! Get her out,now!”

“I’m not–!”

“Mae,” Rick said, voice low, steady, painfully gentle. “If we stay in the way, he won’t make it. Let them work.”

I shook my head so hard my vision blurred. “No no, Rick, don’t…don’t take me away from him, please”

But his arms were already around me. “Don’t. Rick, NO!”

I lunged back toward Negan, fingers clawing at the air, but Rick hauled me away from the bedside. My feet scraped against the floor as I fought him, every muscle in me straining toward Negan’s blood-soaked body.

“NEGAN!” I screamed, my voice cracking into something raw. “Negan, stay awake! LOOK at me look at me!”

His eyes cracked open one last time, foggy and slipping. He mouthed something silent, faint.

I love you.

Then the doors slammed shut between us.

Then Rick hauled me away from him, and something inside me broke.

“LET ME GO!” I screamed, hitting him fists slamming into his chest, again, again, again. “LET ME GO! LET ME GO BACK TO HIM! HE NEEDS ME HE NEEDS ME”

Rick grunted at the impact but didn’t let go. His arms wrapped around me like iron and grief.

“Mae… Mae, stop ” His voice wavered, and that hurt even more. 

I kept pounding on him, sobs tearing out of me in jagged, shaking bursts. Every hit was a different kind of agony fear, love, terror, helplessness. My fists weakened, then trembled, then just… fell against him.

Rick held me tighter as I broke apart in his arms, my screams dissolving into gasping, shaking sobs.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his own voice cracking. “It’s okay.”

I sank against him, the world dissolving into muffled shouts from inside the room, metal clattering, Carson barking orders every sound a reminder that the man I loved was fighting for his life just on the other side of the door.

And all I could do was shatter in Rick’s arms.

I stood there, trembling, as if the world had slowed to a crawl. Every sound Carson’s muffled shouts behind the door, Rick’s voice trying to pull me back, was distant and distorted. My gaze dropped to my hands, shaking violently, slick and drenched in his blood.

Then my eyes caught the ring he had given me, gleaming faintly through the crimson. Covered in blood, it sparkled like a cruel reminder.

The sight shattered me. A sob ripped from my chest, raw and ragged, barely human. My shoulders caved, my whole body folding around the horror of my own hands.

Rick’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Mae… hey, look at me,” he said, voice muffled at first, then clearer as I lifted my gaze.

I met his eyes, and the tears poured harder. I tried to wipe them away, smearing more blood across my face in the process.

Rick reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rag. He cupped the back of my head gently, and with slow, careful movements, began wiping the blood from my face. Human. Tender. Grounding.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, though we both knew I wasn’t. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

He cleaned my cheeks, my jaw, the streaks along my neck. Then he took my hands both of them and wiped away the blood one trembling stroke at a time.

When the ring caught the light again, glinting through the red, Rick’s hands faltered slightly. He looked at it, and then at me, and for a brief second, everything fear, grief, love hung between us in silence.

Rick watched me fall apart in front of him, really watched me. Not the leader. Not the warrior. Just the girl he’d practically raised after her father died, the one he’d promised silently, stubbornly to keep safe. His jaw clenched as if he felt my pain like a physical thing.

Behind the infirmary door, Negan screamed. A raw, guttural cry of pain that sliced through me like a blade.

My whole body jerked toward the door, a sob ripping from my chest. “Negan!”

But Rick grabbed my shoulders, firm and steady, pulling my gaze back to him.

“Mae,” he said sharply, grounding me. “Look at me. Eyes right here. You can’t lose yourself right now.”

I tried but another cry from inside made me flinch, horror flooding through me. “He’s hurting…Rick, he’s–”

“Mae!” His voice cut through the panic, commanding but not unkind. His hands cupped the sides of my arms, steadying my shaking body. “I know. I hear it too. But if you go in there now, you’ll only make it harder for them to help him.”

Tears streamed down my face, and he softened just a little, thumb brushing once over the back of my arm.

“Stay with me,” Rick murmured. “Just a minute longer.”

My breath came in broken gasps, my blood stained fingers digging into my palms.

Rick exhaled shakily, gathering himself, then spoke more quietly, more vulnerably than I’d ever heard from him.

“Mae… I need you to hear something. And I’m only gonna say it once.”

Another muffled shout of agony came from behind the door shorter, sharper this time. I broke, reaching toward it again but Rick caught my chin gently, turning my face back to him.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough. “Listen.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes, tears blurring them into shapes and light.

“I didn’t see it,” Rick said quietly. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want to believe a man like him after everything… could ever care about you the way you deserve.”

His voice wavered, just barely. “But he does,” Rick said. “Hell… he loves you. Anyone with eyes can see it now.”

I choked on another sob. My hands shook violently, and when I wiped my face, I smeared more of Negan’s blood across my skin without realizing.

Rick took the cloth again, cupping the back of my head as he wiped the blood away slow, gentle, fatherly. Like he was holding together what was left of me.

Rick’s voice dropped low, honest in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. “As much as I hate sayin’ this… he needs you. Right now more than ever. He’s in there fightin’ for his life, but he can’t do all of it alone.”

My breath shook hard. Rick squeezed my hand firm, reassuring. “You gotta do the fighting for him now. You gotta be strong for him. If you want him to live… you go in there when Carson calls you, and you don’t leave his side.”

Another cry quieter, fading echoed through the door. This time, I didn’t run toward it.

I stood my ground. Rick nodded, seeing the shift in me. “That’s it,” he murmured. 

He looked toward the door, jaw tight, eyes soft with something like hope. “When that door opens… you give that man a reason to keep breathing.”

Before I could speak, Carson’s door burst open.

He stood there with blood all the way to his wrists, face pale and tight. “He’s losing blood. Fast. I need more now.”

“I…I’m B negative” The words broke apart in my throat.

Carson shook his head. “Not compatible enough for how much I need.”

The world tilted. I felt helpless, useless, my breath slipping away.

Then a rough voice cut through everything. “I’m O negative.”

Daryl stood there, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. His eyes flicked toward the room where Negan was bleeding out. For a split second, there was something in his expression conflict, dread, maybe even reluctant compassion. Then it was gone.

“Merle used to sell my blood when we were kids,” he muttered.

Daryl stepped in front of me on his way to Carson, stopping just long enough to meet my eyes.

“I ain’t doin’ this for him,” he said firmly. “I’m doin’ it for you.”

Then he walked into the room.Carson followed, pulling the door closed behind them. Another scream raw, agonized hit the wall and echoed into the hall. Negan’s scream.

I flinched so hard I nearly doubled over.

Rick’s hands settled on my shoulders again, grounding me, keeping me upright when I couldn’t feel my own legs.

“Mae,” he said softly, steady as a rock. “You stay strong now. For him.”

I don’t know how long I stood there seconds, minutes just listening to muffled chaos behind the door.

Then the door cracked open.

Carson stood there, chest heaving, sweat on his temples, gloves soaked in blood. His eyes found mine instantly. 

“Mae,” he said, urgent, breathless. “He’s out. Fully. I need you in here… now.”

My stomach dropped. I pushed past him before he even finished speaking.

The sight hit me like a punch.

Negan lay completely still on the table. Too still. His chest rose in slow, uneven, terrifyingly shallow breaths. His lips were drained of color, his skin near gray. His eyes were closed, not drifting, not fluttering, shut. His face slack. His body limp.

He looked dead.

“W…why isn’t he… why isn’t he waking up?” I choked.

Carson’s voice was low, tight, scared. “He lost too much blood. Too fast. His body’s shutting down. We got him stabilized for now, but mentally… he’s gone. He’s not responding to anything.”

My throat closed. “Gone…?”

“He’s unconscious. Deep.” Carson met my eyes with brutal honesty. “If he slips any further, I won’t be able to get him back.”

I staggered toward the bed, my heartbeat pounding so hard it made my vision shake.

Daryl stood off to the side, pale under the harsh lantern light, blood draining from his arm through the tubing and into Negan’s. He hadn’t sat once. Just stood there, jaw clenched, watching the transfer like he could force it to work by sheer stubbornness.

I moved to Negan’s side, barely breathing. “Negan…” I whispered, taking his hand.

It was cold. Too cold.

“Negan, baby, hey… hey, I’m here.” My voice broke on the words. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Carson stepped back, giving me space. “Talk to him. He might hear you, even if he can’t respond. Give him something to hold onto.”

My hands shook as I cupped his face. His head lolled with the movement. Dead weight.

“Negan,” I whispered, leaning over him, forehead against his. “You come back to me, you hear me? I’m not done with you. Not even close.”

Silence.

His breath hitched once, then evened again, barely there.

“No,” I whispered fiercely, panic clawing up my throat. “No, no, no don’t you do this. Don’t you fade on me. Negan! Come on, asshole… open your eyes,” I pleaded, voice trembling. “Fight. Fight for me. You always fight. Don’t stop now.”

Still nothing.

Tears hit his cheek and rolled down the side of his neck.

“You asked me to marry you,” I sobbed. “You put a ring on my finger. You told me to lead with you. You told me you loved me. You don’t get to walk away from that. You don’t get to leave me.”

I grabbed both sides of his face with shaking hands, lifting his head slightly.

“Come back to me,” I pleaded, voice cracking so hard it hurt to speak. “Come back, Negan. Please. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much. Fight for me. Fight your way back.”

For a second, there was no change at all.

Then His fingers twitched. Just once, so slight Carson almost missed it, but I felt it the faintest curl of his hand against mine.

My breath collapsed out of me in a sob. “That’s it… that’s it, baby. Follow my voice. Come back. Come back.”

His eyelids didn't open, but his brow moved a fraction, like something deep inside him was straining toward me.

“He hears you,” Carson said quietly. “Keep going.”

I leaned closer, pressing my forehead to his, my tears falling onto his face like rain.

“I’m right here,” I whispered, voice shaking but strong. “You’re not alone. You promised you wouldn’t leave me, so don’t you dare. I’m your fiancée now, remember? You come back to me, Negan. Come back. Come back.”

His breathing hitched again stronger this time. His fingers tightened around mine, still weak, still barely there…

But alive.

“Carson he’s moving ” I gasped, voice trembling.

“That’s good,” Carson said, barely above a whisper. “He’s trying to come back. Keep talking to him.”

My tears hit his cheeks one after another. I grabbed both sides of his face like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

“Negan,” I whispered, voice cracking into pieces, “listen to me… you fight. You hear me? You fight your way back.”

His brow tightened just barely. A flicker. A struggle.I leaned closer, pressing my forehead to his temple.

“I’m right here,” I cried. “I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever.”

Another twitch. His throat worked, like he was trying to swallow, trying to breathe, trying to move toward me.

“Baby, please please I’m gonna marry you.” My voice broke completely. “You hear me? I’m gonna be your wife. So don’t you dare make me do that alone. Come back. Come back to me. Come back, Negan…”

His fingers curled, slow and shaky, around mine. I sobbed harder, clutching his hand against my chest.

“I need more time with you…so fight for it. Fight your way back to me. I need you. I need you, Negan please ”

A shaky breath escaped him, deeper than the others. Then another.

His eyelids fluttered once… twice… trembling like lifting them was the hardest battle he’d ever fought.

“Come on,” I whispered. “Come on, baby. I’m right here. I’m right here.”

His lashes lifted. Just enough for his eyes to meet mine.

Cloudy. Unfocused. But warm. So full of something it broke me entirely. His lips parted, barely working, barely holding sound.

But he managed one word, barely a whisper.

“Mine.”

It wasn’t pain, it wasn’t confusion, it wasn’t fear, it was love. Pure, stripped, devastating love.

A sob burst out of me, my forehead pressing to his as my fingers curled in his hair.

“Yes,” I cried, voice shaking violently. “I’m yours. I’m right here. And I’m not letting go. I’m not letting you go.”

He gave the faintest, weakest squeeze back.

His eyes fluttered again, struggling to stay open, drifting in and out of focus. I squeezed his hand gently, bringing it to my cheek.

“Negan… stay with me,” I whispered, voice trembling.

His throat moved, a painful swallow, like even that tiny motion cost everything he had. His lips parted, sound scraping out rough and broken.

“Y-you…”The word was barely air, barely sound, but it was there.

“I’m here,” I said quickly, brushing my thumb over his cheek. “I’m right here, baby. Talk to me.”

His chest shuddered with a ragged inhale. He tried again. “D… don’t…” Another breath. “…leave…”

My heart shattered. I shook my head fiercely, tears falling onto his collarbone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I breathed. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you, Negan. Not now, not ever.”

His fingers curled weakly into my shirt again that same barely there hold, but this time more purposeful, as if he needed the contact to anchor him.

He blinked slowly, the effort dragging his lashes together, but he kept fighting them open. His gaze latched onto me like the only steady thing in a storm.

“Wi…” His lips trembled. “Wife…”

A broken laugh escaped me a half sob half relief and I pressed my lips to his forehead.

“Yes,” I whispered against his skin. “Yes, I’m yours. I said yes. I’m not letting you forget it.”

His breath hitched again, weaker this time, but still there. Still working. Still fighting.

Carson stepped closer, watching him closely. “He’s responsive. That’s good. That’s really good. Keep him talking if he can manage it anything to keep him anchored.”

Negan’s jaw tightened faintly, like he was trying to gather the strength to lift a mountain. He wet his cracked lips, breath shaky.

“M..Mae…” His voice broke. “…don’t cry…”

A sob tore out of me so violently I had to press my forehead to his to keep from collapsing.

“I can’t help it,” I whispered. “I thought I was losing you. I… I can’t lose you, Negan. I can’t.”

He blinked again, slower, heavier but he wasn’t letting go.

Not anymore.

“…Mine,” he whispered again, barely audible, but certain.

I nodded fiercely, cupping his face between my trembling hands.

“Yours,” I said. “Always.”

He exhaled shakily, a tiny smile ghosting across his lips, so faint and so fragile but real.

Carson glanced between us, urgency in his eyes. “Alright. He’s stabilizing enough that I need to start repairs. Mae, you keep talking to him. Don’t let him drift.”

I leaned closer, keeping my forehead against his, one hand tangled in his hair, the other locked around his fingers.

“I’m right here,” I murmured, soft and steady. “Stay with me. Keep looking at me. I’m yours and you’re mine and I’m not letting you go.”

His eyes stayed open.

Barely. Weak. But open.

I looked over at Daryl hi face was pale, sweat beading at his temples. The tube from his arm into Negan’s vein pulsed slower, and his knees trembled.

“That’s enough,” Carson said sharply. “You’ve given more than you can safely. Step back.”

Daryl nodded, gritting his teeth, and managed a weak, “I’m fine,” before letting Carson clamp the line. He stumbled to the door, giving me a small, apologetic nod and then disappeared down the hallway.

I was left with Negan, Carson, and a Hilltop nurse, the room quiet except for Negan’s ragged breathing and the occasional murmur from Carson as he prepped his tools.

Carson moved quickly, snapping on fresh gloves, voice calm but focused. “Mae, you keep him talking, okay? Keep him anchored. I’m going to start stitching.”

Negan’s gaze wavered, unfocused, but he kept dragging it back to mine like it was the only thing he still understood.

The needle pierced skin.

Negan let out a raw, guttural moan not loud, but deep, like it was torn from somewhere inside. His hand convulsed in mine.

His eyes shot wide, blindsided by the pain then locked right on mine.

“Mae” he gasped, barely breathing the word.

“I know,” I whispered, climbing closer, holding his face with my free hand. “I’m here. I’m right here. Keep your eyes on me. Just me.”

Carson worked steadily, pulling the torn flesh together stitch by stitch. Each one made Negan flinch, made his breath stutter. But every time his eyes threatened to roll back, I shook him gently.

“No,” I whispered fiercely. “Don’t leave me. Stay with me. You’re doing so good. I’m not letting you go.”

Negan’s brow tightened, sweat streaking down his temples, pain carved into every line of his face… but he fought.

He fought because I asked him to.

Carson finally pulled the needle back, exhaling.

“Halfway,” he said quietly. “You’re both doing great. Mae, keep him awake.”

I leaned in again, brushing my lips to his cheek, tasting salt and blood.

“You hear that?” I whispered. “We’re halfway. You just keep fighting. You stay with me, baby.”

Negan swallowed hard, the movement shaky. His lips brushed mine in a barely-there, weak kiss.

Carson kept working, and Negan winced with every stitch. A low, raw groan rumbled from his chest, but he kept his gaze glued to me like I was the only thing anchoring him to consciousness.

Negan’s eyes fluttered open again, slower this time but steadier. The fog in them began to clear, a weak focus sharpening on my face. He tried to lift his hand, muscles trembling with the effort, and I caught it instantly, guiding it to my cheek.

“So beautiful…” he breathed, barely more than a whisper.

My throat tightened. I leaned into his touch, curling my fingers around his, holding his hand in place against my skin like it was the only thing keeping both of us alive.

Carson’s hands worked with calm precision beside us, placing the last stitches along Negan’s torn side. The needle clicked through one final time, and he tied off the thread with a practiced twist.

“Done,” Carson said softly, straightening and brushing the blood from his gloves. His voice gentled even more as he looked at me. “He’s going to make it. You kept him awake, that made all the difference.”

He glanced down at Negan. “He’s stable now, but he needs rest. No sudden movements. We’ll keep him under observation. Mae, you can go get some rest–”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I cut in, sharp and unwavering.

Carson took one look at my face and didn’t bother arguing.

Instead, he stepped forward, lifted a small flashlight, and checked Negan’s pupils. Then he pressed his stethoscope to Negan’s chest, listening closely.

“Breathing’s good. Heart’s steady. He’s holding on,” Carson murmured. “I’ll give you two some time. I’ll be back to check on him soon.”

He peeled off his gloves as he spoke, and the Hilltop nurse quietly finished tidying the bloody instruments before both slipped out of the room, leaving us in the soft silence of lamplight and shallow breaths.

I let out a long, shaking exhale I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Negan watched me through half‑lidded eyes, and a faint, tired smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Then, with noticeably more strength than before, he lifted his hand again and cupped my cheek entirely. His thumb brushed across my skin, catching a tear as it fell.

“Don’t… cry, baby,” he muttered, voice frayed but full of that deep, familiar warmth that shattered me.

My eyes were glassy, locked on him, and the moment I tried to speak, I broke. “I was so scared,” I choked out, the words collapsing into sobs.

“Come here…” he breathed, voice thin and worn. He lifted his arms just barely but it was enough. I leaned over him carefully, slipping my arms to either side of his body so I wouldn’t press against his wounds. The moment my head touched his chest, he wrapped his arms around me as best he could.

“I thought I lost you,” I sobbed, the words shaking loose from somewhere deep. “I thought you were gone. You were..” My breath hitched, breaking. “You were there… in the dirt… just like my nightmare…”

The sob tore out of me, shaking my whole body.

“It came true,” I whispered, voice cracking apart. “I thought you were gone.”

His weak hand slid behind my head, fingers threading through my hair, grounding me with that small, steady touch.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

I lifted my head to look at him, my vision blurred from tears. My lip trembled uncontrollably. He repeated it stronger this time. “I’m here, baby.”

“I can’t lose you,” I whispered, trying to breathe, trying to stop my mouth from shaking.

“You won’t,” he rasped, barely above a whisper, each word shaky and fragile. “I… I’m here.” A faint, broken smirk tugged at his lips, just enough to make me laugh softly. “Im like a goddamn cat,” he added, his voice rough and wavering.

A shaky, tear‑soaked laugh escaped me, half sob, half relief.

I pulled back slightly, running my hand through his hair as I gazed at him. My eyes caught the glint of the ring on my finger, and I smiled softly.

Negan’s eyes fluttered closed as I stroked his hair gently. “Sleep now, baby,” I whispered. I reached for the blanket the nurse had left at the end of the bed and draped it over his bare chest. Moving to the foot of the bed, I lifted the blanket and carefully slid both of his boots off, tucking him in more fully.

I eased back up to his side, and his lips curved into a weak, tired smile. “Rest, Negan… I’ll be right here,” I murmured.

His hand weakly lifted the blanket I’d just pulled over him. “Hop in,” he said quietly.

I smiled, sliding in next to him on the opposite side of his wound. Negan lay on his back, and I curled onto my side, resting my head on his chest. Each thump of his heartbeat beneath me was a reminder, he was here, he was alive, and he was mine. It was as if his body knew I needed that reassurance.

I stayed awake, listening to his breathing slow, each inhale and exhale deeper and steadier as he drifted toward sleep. I didn’t move, didn’t close my eyes just stayed there, anchored to him, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

When his hand loosened slightly in mine, I finally whispered it into the quiet, a truth I needed to hear out loud as much as he did. “You’re alive,” I breathed, my voice barely a sound.

The words didn’t wake him, but something in him seemed to settle, like he’d heard them anyway. I let my head rest against his shoulder, letting the heaviness in my chest ease for the first time all night.

Find other parts here

By morning, I’d already been awake for half an hour maybe longer. I couldn’t bring myself to move. I just lay there, listening to the slow rise and fall of Negan’s chest beneath my cheek, the steady rhythm of his breathing. There was something peaceful about it… something calm in a world that never stayed calm for long.

I stayed still on purpose, letting him sleep a little longer. He carried the weight of so much of the plan, the danger ahead, of all the things he pretended weren’t heavy. If I could give him even a few extra minutes of rest, I would.

My thoughts drifted, uninvited but honest.

I thought about everything what my life had become, how it twisted into something I never expected. I thought about where I started… and where this entire story began.

When I first came here, it was because I traded myself so Daryl could go home. I remembered walking into the Sanctuary, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, thinking I’d rather die than owe anything to Negan. Thinking I hated him. Thinking he was nothing but a monster wearing a leather jacket and a grin.

And now…

Now that same man was sleeping under me, soft and unguarded, his arm draped over my waist like it belonged there.

And I loved him.

Fuck, I was in love with him. Hopelessly, completely. The kind of love that made my chest tight and my thoughts reckless, the kind that made you realize you’d give up the whole damn world just to keep one person breathing.

Somewhere along the way, he let me see the parts of himself no one else got to see. The man beneath the terrifying leader. The man trying truly trying to change things. For the communities. For a future.

And for us. For me.

My fingers curled lightly against his chest, right over his heartbeat,I let myself hope that maybe after the chaos ahead, there might still be a life with him on the other side.

Negan stirred beneath me, a low, sleepy groan rumbling in his chest before his hand slid up my spine, slow and warm, fingers tracing the shape of me like he’d been awake long enough to memorize it.

“Mmm… you watchin’ me sleep again, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice rough with morning. His palm settled between my shoulder blades, thumb making lazy circles like he couldn’t help touching me even half-awake.

I smiled against his skin. “Maybe.”

He cracked one eye open, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips but softer than usual, stripped of all the bravado. “Can’t blame you. I am a handsome bastard.”

I rolled my eyes, but he caught my chin gently, guiding my face up so he could really look at me. The teasing faded as his thumb brushed my cheekbone, slow and tender.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice low, warm. “Mornin’, gorgeous.”

There was something in his voice something unguarded, almost fragile that made my heart twist. He pulled me closer, his forehead settling against mine, our breaths mixing in the quiet morning light. It felt like he was letting me see a part of him he didn’t show anyone, maybe not even himself.

“You okay?” he asked softly, eyes searching mine with a concern so real it almost undid me.

I nodded, my fingers threading into his messy hair. “I am now.”

Negan let out a breath one of those deep, relieved ones he tried to hide and pressed a slow kiss to the corner of my mouth, then another, and another, like he couldn’t quite stop himself. 

“I love this,” he murmured against my skin.

I smiled, brushing my nose against his cheek. “Love what?”

“This, wakin’ up next to the love of my damn life.” He said, lifting the sheets a little with a crooked grin. “And naked? Sweetheart, that’s just bonus points.”

I shoved him lightly, laughing, but he only used it as an excuse to wrap both arms around me and drag me on top of him, holding me flush against his chest like he had no intention of letting me go.

“Negan” I tried, breath catching in a laugh.

“Nope,” he said, voice low and warm as his hands slid over my back. “Too late. You’re stayin’ right here.”

He tipped his head back to look at me, that familiar smirk softening into something deeper something that made my pulse trip hard.

“Hell,” he murmured, thumb tracing the curve of my hip, “you have any idea how good this feels? Wakin’ up and the first thing I see is you lookin’ at me like I’m worth somethin’.”

My smile faltered, replaced by something quieter, heavier. My fingers brushed along his jaw, slow, gentle.

“You are worth something,” I said softly. “To me. Always.”

His breath hitched just barely and he pulled me down into a kiss that wasn’t teasing or hungry or rushed.

Just honest.

His hand slid into my hair, holding me there as he kissed me. When he finally pulled back, I opened my eyes to find his already on me soft, gentle, the kind of eyes he only ever let me see.

“You never told me what it was like… talking with Rick last night,” I said quietly. “Do you think you can actually make this work?”

Negan let out a low chuckle, the sound warm against my lips. “For you? I’ll do anything. Even if it means dealin’ with Grimes and all his side-eyes and comments.”

“But you are also both very…” I paused, letting my fingers trace the edge of his jaw, “ridiculously hard-headed. It’s like watching two brick walls argue.”

Negan huffed a laugh through his nose, that low, warm sound he only ever made when he was relaxed with me. “Sweetheart, if Rick and I are brick walls, you’re the damn wrecking ball smashing us into cooperating.”

“I’m serious,” I said, though I was smiling. “You both lead with your pride. You both think you’re right ninety-nine percent of the time. And neither of you can walk into a room without trying to control it.”

His voice dropped, rough but honest. “Rick’s got his reasons for hating my guts. Hell, I gave him plenty. But if working with him is what gets us all through this and keeps you safe I’ll grit my teeth and play nice.”

I raised a brow. “Play nice? You?”

He smirked. “Okay, nice-ish. I’ll try not to poke the damn bear every five seconds.”

I laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “See? That right there. That’s why I think it can work. Because stubborn or not… you both care more than you let people see.”

Negan’s thumb swept across my cheekbone, gentle as a whisper. “Only difference is… I don’t mind letting you see it.”

He leaned in and kissed me slow at first, a soft press of his lips that deepened when I curled my fingers into his hair. His tongue brushed mine with the kind of tenderness that still surprised me every time.

He sighed into the kiss, a quiet, breathy sound that vibrated through me. Then he shifted us, rolling just enough to bring me half beneath him, half wrapped around him, like he couldn’t decide which way he wanted me closer.

Negan rested his forehead against mine, our breaths warm and uneven as his thumb stroked across my cheek soft, like he was committing me to memory.

“We’ll make this work,” I whispered, the words settling between us like a promise.

His eyes softened. “Yes, babygirl,” he murmured, brushing his lips over mine again. “We will.”

“You know,” I began softly, barely above a whisper, “that night I had that nightmare while you were gone… Rick found me. I was just ” I exhaled, remembering it. “A trembling, crying mess on the steps at Hilltop.”

Negan’s eyes softened in that dark, heavy way they did when something hit him deep. His thumb kept brushing my cheek, slow circles, like he was trying to soothe a memory he hadn’t even been there for.

“He listened,” I continued, voice quieter. “He didn’t judge. He understood why the nightmares were happening. And I think… he was starting to see us. That this is real. That I’m not being manipulated, or confused, or pressured.” My throat tightened. “That I actually love you. Really love you.”

His hand paused against my cheek, warm, steady, just holding.

“And Rick… he told me about my dad,” I whispered. “How before he passed, he made Rick promise to look after me. To keep me safe. To make sure I felt loved.”

Negan’s breath hitched sharp, emotional but he stayed quiet, fingers sliding into my hair, grounding me.

“He said that’s why he’s so protective. That he loves me like his own. And then he told me I sound just like my dad.” A single tear slipped down my cheek, Negan caught it with his thumb. “He said my dad loved with his whole heart, even when it hurt him. And he thinks I’m the same.”

Negan’s hand rubbed up and down my back, slow and steady.

“And the last thing Rick said was… ‘You can’t stop who you love, but you can choose what you do with it.’” I swallowed, looking into Negan’s eyes. “He loves me more than he hates you. He wants me happy even if my happiness comes from you. It’ll take time… but I think he’ll come around.”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head.

“Grimes, man… who would’ve thought?”

He looked at me again really looked. “If he’s willin’ to try… then I damn sure will too. For you.”

Then he smirked just a little. “But don’t tell him I said that. I got a reputation to uphold.”

“Seriously, darlin,” he murmured, a hint of awe creeping into his tone he’d never admit to, “you must really be somethin’. Gettin’ Ricky to stop thinkin’ I’m the devil long enough to care about what makes you happy? Hell. I should put a damn medal on you.”

“A medal?” I echoed, smirking. “What are you gonna do, pin it on me? Or should I expect some kind of speech too?”

I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “‘Cause if you’re giving me awards, I want the full ceremony.”

Negan’s smirk widened, shameless and warm all at once. “Oh, you want the full damn ceremony, huh?” he drawled. “Babygirl, I’ll give you a whole medal pinning, speech giving event. Hell I'll write you a monologue so good you’ll think I’m runnin’ for office.”

He tugged me closer by the hips, eyes glinting. “And the grand prize? That’s easy. You get me.”

I let out a breathy laugh, nudging him. “Trust me… I know you can monologue,” I said. “Believe me, I know.”

Negan’s brows shot up, a wicked grin spreading slow and dangerous across his face.

“Oh, you know, huh?” he drawled, moving closer. “Lemme get this straight are you tryin’ to say I don’t know when to shut up?”

I opened my mouth, already laughing, but he didn’t give me the chance.

“Ohhh, sweetheart,” he said, voice full of mock offense, “you are so damn lucky I love you ’cause that sounds an awful lot like trouble.”

His fingers darted to my sides without warning, and I squealed as he started tickling me, relentless and smug.

“Say it,” he teased, laughing as I squirmed in his arms. “Say I’m a delight to listen to.”

“Never!” I choked out between laughs.

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” he said, tickling harder, his forehead nearly touching mine as he grinned like he was having the time of his life.

“Okay okay!” I gasped, nearly collapsing against him as I tried to wiggle out of his grip. “You’re a delight to listen to!”

Negan froze triumphantly, hands still resting at my waist, grin big enough to split his face.

“There it is,” he said, smug as hell. “Music to my damn ears.”

I was still catching my breath, laughing against his chest when his expression shifted playful fading into something warm, something slow.

His hands slid from my sides to my hips, grounding me, pulling me closer until our bodies fit together perfectly.

He closed the distance and leaned in, the kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t demanding. It was deep and slow, the kind that stole the last bit of air from my lungs and replaced it with nothing but him. His hands slid up my back, holding me like he didn’t want a single inch of space between us.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, breath warm and unsteady.

“Damn,” he murmured with a soft laugh, “you’re give in real cute.”

I nudged his chest lightly, still trying to catch my breath. “Yeah? Well maybe if someone wasn’t tickling me within an inch of my life, I’d stand a chance.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” he chuckled, leaning down to press another soft, steady kiss to my lips.

When I pulled back, my fingers traced along his chest, brushing through the dark hair. “Suppose we should get up,” I murmured, a playful tilt to my voice. “We are the ones running this place, after all. Can’t stay naked in bed forever.”

He smirked, one eyebrow rising, voice low and cocky. “Oh, I could stay here all day if it were up to me… but fine, lead the way, boss lady.”

I placed a soft kiss on him before sliding off the bed and heading toward the cupboard.

“Fuck,” Negan groaned, his eyes raking over my naked body as I moved, his voice thick with that familiar mix of awe and mischief.

I paused at the cupboard, pretending to be busy, but I could feel his gaze following me, heavy and unrelenting.

“You know,” he said, voice low and teasing, “if you keep walking around like that, I might just forget all about breakfast.”

I smirked over my shoulder, leaning against the counter. “Oh yeah? And what would you do if I did?”

He lay there, head propped on his hands, eyes hungrily fixed on me. “Well… I might have to remind you why it’s dangerous to tempt me first thing in the morning.”

I turned fully to him, leaning back against the cupboard, biting my lip and letting a teasing smile curl across my face. “Mm, danger doesn’t scare me,” I murmured, then let out a soft laugh. “Too bad we don’t have the time.”

Snapping out of the playful seduction, I reached into the cupboard, grabbed his underwear and pants, and tossed them at him. He caught them easily, still smirking.

“Get dressed, my horny, horny man,” I said, shaking my head with a laugh, the teasing edge still lingering in my voice.

He brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Horny, huh? Sounds like someone’s enjoying themselves a little too much this morning,” he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, please,” I shot back, crossing my arms and leaning against the cupboard. “You’re the one who can’t keep his hands or his mouth off me.”

Negan chuckled. “Guilty as charged. But you know, babygirl… I think you like it when I can’t keep my hands to myself.”

He stood up, and my gaze dropped straight to his hard cock. I bit my lip, a fresh wave of heat washing over me. 

"Hey, eyes up here, missy," he said, his voice a low, amused rumble. I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the grin from spreading across my face.

He tugged on his underwear and pants, the waistband hanging low on his hips, then crossed the room to me. 

His hands came up to cradle my face, warm and steady, before he leaned in and kissed me slow, unhurried. When he pulled back, we both finished getting dressed.

Negan slung his jacket over his shoulders, glanced at me, and let out a low whistle. “Ready to go be terrifying together, sweetheart?”

I smirked, tying my boots. “Terrifying? Please. We’re practically wholesome.”

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, okay. Let’s not go spreadin’ that rumor.”

He held the door open for me, giving me one last lingering look the kind that said stay close without needing the words. I brushed my fingers against his as I walked past.

“Let’s go,” I murmured.

Together, we stepped out into the corridor, shoulders brushing, slipping back into our roles like armor being fastened. The door shut behind us with a soft click.

The rest of the day dragged by slow, agonizingly slow each hour stretching itself thin around me. My stomach twisted tighter the closer we got to nightfall, like something inside me was bracing for impact long before anything had even happened.

Every task I tried to focus on slipped right through my fingers. Words from others became background noise. Faces blurred. The world moved normally, but I didn’t. I was stuck, caught in the rising tide of dread that kept crawling higher with every minute.

Because tonight wasn’t just a mission, it wasn’t just another plan. It was a line we couldn’t uncross.

The Whisperers. Beta. Everything that could go wrong. Everything we might not walk away from.

And Negan.

His name alone made something in my chest pull tight fear and love tangled into one painful knot. The possibility of losing him hovered over me like a shadow I couldn’t shake. 

My hands shook more than once throughout the day, and every time they did, I pressed them against my thighs, pretending it was nothing. Pretending I wasn’t terrified. Pretending I wasn’t already grieving something that hadn’t happened yet.

But the truth sat heavy in me. I was scared, of the fight, of the cost, and with every passing minute, that fear only grew.

Just before sunset, the world felt caught in a strange stillness like everything was holding its breath.

By the time Negan gathered the small group of Saviors and told us it was time to move out, the sun was slipping lower, brushing the treetops with a fading warmth I barely felt.

We climbed into the trucks as the sky began to dim. The engines rumbled to life, vibrating under my boots, and the road toward Hilltop stretched out ahead quiet, pale, and waiting. I stared out the window, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, trying to steady the tremor in my chest.

Negan kept glancing at me. I didn’t have to look to know. I could feel his eyes concern hidden beneath that rough exterior, trying to read me, trying to pull me back from whatever place my mind had gone.

“You’ve been real quiet, sweetheart,” he murmured finally, low so only I could hear over the hum of the truck.

I swallowed hard. “Just thinking.”

He didn’t believe me. I could hear it in the silence that followed, feel it in the way he kept watching me.

“Mmhm,” he said, not pressing, but not convinced either. “Just… stay close tonight. Don’t wander off in that head of yours.”

I nodded, but the words still stuck somewhere behind my ribs.

The mission hung over us like the shifting sky, growing darker by the minute. Every mile closer to Hilltop made my chest feel tighter, the weight of what we were walking into settling deep in my bones.

Negan looked at me one last time, jaw tight, eyes softer than he meant them to be. But he didn’t push not yet.

The trucks rolled on through the gates of Hilltop, the familiar wooden walls rising around us as the engines rumbled to a stop. 

I stayed in my seat for a moment, fingers curled tight against my thighs, trying to breathe past the ache tightening in my chest. The air felt heavy like the world knew what we were about to attempt.

When I finally stepped out, the scene hit me all at once.

Everyone was there.

Alexandria. The Kingdom. Hilltop. And now the Saviors.

All these people so different, so divided for so long standing together now, united by one thing, ending the Whisperers. Ending Beta.

Negan climbed out beside me, Lucille slung casually over his shoulder as if this were any ordinary day. It wasn’t. Not even close.

I walked straight toward Rick. He didn’t hesitate he pulled me into a tight, grounding hug. “You ready for this?” he asked quietly.

“Mm… yeah,” I managed, though the word felt thin, fragile. Not quite true.

He didn’t call me on it.

Soon everyone gathered in a wide circle outside. Faces I knew well, faces I barely knew, faces marked by fear, determination, and exhaustion but ready. Ready to do what had to be done.

Rick took the lead, laying out the plan with that steady, commanding voice that made people listen. Negan cut in every now and then, adding details only he knew how Beta moved, how the Whisperers moved, how the herd reacted to sound. Jesus offered strategy, Ezekiel weighed in with his calm authority, and others filled in gaps, strengthening every angle.

By the time the discussion ended, the plan was set. Groups were chosen. Roles confirmed.

I offered to move with the main strike team through the edge of the horde, slipping into the chaos to help eliminate the Whisperers hidden among the dead. I’d be with Negan, Rick, Daryl, Jesus, Laura, Ezekiel, and a handful of fighters from Hilltop and Alexandria. A tight, lethal unit.

The rest would work the second half of the plan guiding the massive horde toward the cliff. Jerry, Michonne, Lydia, Carol, and several others were tasked with the truck the giant speakers rigged to blare music loud enough to pull half the dead in Virginia behind them. They’d guard it, drive it, and keep the walkers moving in the direction we needed.

Two fronts. One chance.

As the groups began to separate, weapons checked and final instructions traded, a rough hand suddenly wrapped around my wrist and tugged me aside out of the noise, out of the crowd.

Negan.

He stopped only when we were behind one of the outer buildings, shielded from everyone else. His jaw was already tight, eyes flashing with something between frustration and fear.

“I don’t want you in this,” he said without circling around it, his voice low and sharp. “You should be with the other team. Away from the damn herd. Away from the Whisperers.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” He stepped in closer, towering over me, tone edging toward a growl. “You’re not jumpin’ into that mess, not this time. It’s too damn risky.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “You’re going.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m going. Because I’m the stupid son of a bitch who made half the enemies we’re about to fight with.” He pointed at his own chest. “This is my responsibility. Mine. Not yours.”

“And I don’t care,” I shot back, heat rising in my voice. “If you’re going in there, then I’m going with you. I’m not sitting on the sidelines waiting to see if you come back in one piece. Not again”

He stared at me, jaw working. “You don’t get it–”

“No, you don’t get it,” I cut in, stepping even closer. “I’ve fought for these people. I’ve bled for them. I’m not hiding behind a truck while everyone I love walks into danger. I stick with my family. I stick with my people. And I stick with you.”

Negan exhaled sharply, almost like the wind had been punched out of him. He looked away for a second, like he needed the moment to keep himself together.

“You are so…” He shook his head. “Fucking stubborn.”

“Good,” I said. “Means we match.”

That pulled a low, begrudging laugh from him. His hands came up, cupping my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks like he was memorizing the shape of me.

“Stubborn pain in my ass,” he murmured. And then he kissed me slow, fierce, terrified.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to mine, he whispered, “Fine. You win. But you stay glued to me out there.”

I nodded. “Always.”

We walked back out toward the gathering groups, the sky dimming toward dusk, the air thick with tension.

We geared up fast. Everyone knew the drill coats on, hoods on, the unmistakable stench of rot filling the air as Daryl and Michonne helped smear walker guts across the fabric. Cold, slimy, nauseating. It clung to my skin and soaked into my sleeves.

Negan grimaced at the smell but didn’t complain. Instead, he stepped behind me and helped smear a line of thick, dark gore across my shoulders, his hands steady even though I could feel how tightly strung he was.

“You good?” he murmured.

“As good as anyone covered in dead people can be,” I muttered.

He huffed a quiet breath.

We left Hilltop, the air still cool and gray as we made our way toward the herd’s last known location. No one spoke much on the way. There wasn’t anything left to say, just the sound of boots in dirt, the weight of what we were about to do settling over all of us.

Then we lined up.

The group moving with the herd gathered near the tree line Rick, Daryl, Jesus, Ezekiel, Laura and Negan right beside me. Everyone was silent, the kind of silence that felt like holding a breath.

The sky had just started dimming, the very last threads of daylight slipping away behind the trees.

Rick gave a small nod.

Time to go.

We moved out in a staggered line toward the hoard slow, careful steps. No sudden movements, no loud breaths, no breaking formation.

Negan walked at my side, close enough that our sleeves brushed. The closer we got, the louder everything became.

At first it was just a distant murmur low, constant, like wind dragging across dead leaves. But with every step, the noise thickened, layered itself, turned into a chorus of wet shuffling and guttural groans. Bodies dragging. Bones grinding. Teeth clicking against nothing.

The smell hit next thick and rancid coating the back of my throat and burning my eyes. It didn’t matter how many times we’d done this, you never got used to it. The gore on our coats was already drying, turning tacky, stiffening the fabric. 

Negan shifted beside me, the tension in him was unmistakable his jaw was tight, narrowed eyes, every muscle braced. My sleeve brushed his, a small reminder, and he didn’t move away. If anything, he drifted a fraction closer, like he wanted to keep me within reach without drawing any attention to it.

We kept walking.

The herd came into view hundreds of bodies moving in that slow, uneven way the dead always did. The noise swallowed everything around us, a constant mix of groans and dragging steps.

Then we got close enough for them to sense us.

The sound changed, deepening, spreading through the crowd as they shifted and bumped into each other. The walkers closed in without thought, drifting into a loose circle around us, moving when we moved.

It felt like stepping straight into the center of a storm.

They were everywhere, to the left, the right, behind us, in front of us. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

The last light of the day spilled over the field, turning the world a hazy gold that clung to the herd like something unreal shadows stretching long across the ground, bodies glowing faintly in the dusk like a living, shifting continent.

My heart thudded against my ribs, everything felt sharp, raw, on edge.

We stepped into it into the stink of rot, the suffocating sound of death all around, the heat of bodies that shouldn’t be warm. Every movement had to be controlled. Every breath shallow. Every instinct screaming to run.

Negan stayed right beside me, a silent force at my side. Then his hand found mine quick, subtle, but sure and our fingers laced together. His grip was steady, grounding, as the dead closed in around us.

And that was the moment it hit me.

This was it, There was no turning back, no do-overs.

The mission had finally begun.

We kept walking, letting the dead swallow us whole, step by careful step. Then faint at first, then rising the music hit.

A sharp blast of sound cut through the groans, bouncing across the field.

“Burning Down the House”. Of all the damn songs.

The speakers from the truck roared to life in the distance, the beat thumping through the air like a pulse. The herd reacted instantly heads lifting, bodies shifting, the mass beginning to pivot toward the noise.

A ripple moved through them, the whole swarm turning, drawn like magnets.

Negan squeezed my hand once. “That’s our cue,” he whispered under his breath.

The dead started moving in the direction of the music, slow but unified, the whole tide shifting with each dragging step.

And we moved with them. Right into the heart of the plan.

I shifted my knife into my right hand, keeping my grip tight and low. My eyes scanned every face, every stagger, looking for a blink…a breath…a whisperer hiding in the crowd.

Beside me, Negan did the same, his hand brushing the handle of his own blade, his body coiled and ready.

Then a shriek

A knife slid into someone ahead of us. A whisperer, not a walker.

He screamed short, sharp and dropped. The dead swarmed him instantly, tearing into the body before it even hit the ground.

Then another scream this time a woman. A masked Whisperer was dragged down, a blade buried so deep between her ribs she didn’t even get a full breath out. The herd surged, moaning louder, pressing in.

Then another. And another. One by one, Whisperers dropped almost surgically, as if invisible hands were pruning the horde itself.

I leaned in close, voice barely a breath against his ear.

“Where the hell is Beta…”

Negan didn’t look at me, didn’t even flinch. His eyes kept sweeping the shifting mass around us.

“Close,” he murmured back, low and certain.

We kept moving, step by controlled step. Then I spotted one, a Whisperer mask just ahead, the body beneath it moving wrong, too deliberate.

I shifted my hand in Negan’s grip, letting him feel it before I released. He didn’t look at me, but he understood.

I eased forward through the herd, slow and steady, until I was right behind the masked figure. One clean movement my knife drove straight into his back. His body jolted, then folded, swallowed instantly as the walkers collapsed over him.

I backed away just as carefully, slipping back to Negan’s side before the herd even registered the kill.

His hand found mine again, gripping tight.

We continued moving through the crowd of walkers, and I spotted Daryl up ahead in his bloodied hood. He gave me a quick nod.

Negan squeezed my hand. “Betaaa,” he whispered, just like they did.

And then I saw him Beta pushing through the horde, scanning, snapping his head back and forth with every Whisperer dropping around him. Each kill seemed to push him closer to snapping completely.

“I have a plan,” He whispered to me, the groans of the dead filling the space between us. He started to step ahead, letting go of my hand, but I squeezed tight and shook my head.

He gave me a small, understanding smile, mouthed “It’s okay,” and let go. My chest tightened as I watched him move forward through the crowd. Instant panic hit me as he disappeared from sight.

I moved quickly, weaving through the dead to reach Daryl. His eyes met mine, steady and aware of my worry, and we pressed on together.

“Negan,” I whispered, “Beta.” I pointed toward the direction Negan had gone. Daryl nodded, and we moved through the mass of shuffling walkers, trying to close the distance.

Then we both saw him Beta and fuck, he spotted us immediately. He moved quickly, barreling through the dead like a living battering ram.

“Shit” I hissed.

Beta crashed through the horde, and then Negan’s voice cut from the side, low, a whisper mask mimicking theirs “Hey… shithead.”

Beta’s head snapped toward Negan. Without hesitation, he sprinted straight at him, shoving walkers aside like they weren’t even there. He threw one violently at Negan, sending him crashing to the ground. But Negan was quick he drove his knife straight into its head and tossed it aside, unscathed.

Daryl and I surged forward as Beta came down hard on Negan, the sheer weight of him pinning Negan. Beta leaned over, whispering, “For Alpha,” and raised his knife above Negan’s head.

Daryl didn’t hesitate. He lunged, slashing Beta’s arm, forcing him to pivot and then, precise and ruthless, Daryl drove both his knives straight into Beta’s eyes.

Beta staggered, a guttural scream ripping from his throat as the dead swarmed around him, dragging him down. Relief surged briefly through me until the chaos didn’t stop.

Daryl held out his hand, helping Negan to his feet, and I began moving toward him, heart pounding, when the sharp crack of a gun echoed across the field. My head snapped toward the sound, and I saw a Whisperer standing there, a weapon raised.

But it didn’t last. The sound of the horde swallowing him up came next, a sickening roar as they dragged him down beside Beta.

And then my world shattered.

Time slowed.

My chest tightened until it felt like it would cave in. 

My gaze locked on him, and my worst fear came alive. 

The nightmare I had begged never to witness… was right there.

Negan collapsed to his knees, clutching his side, blood blooming across his shirt.

I ran, screaming, my hands sliding across his bloodied torso, trying to hold him up. My fingers trembled against the wound, crimson spreading across his shirt like fire. His eyes found mine fierce and unbroken all at once.

“No,” I gasped, my voice breaking, my hands slick with his blood. 

Around us, the horde’s moans faded into a distorted, distant roar, like the world itself had gone hollow. Every heartbeat thudded in my ears. Time slowed. My chest tightened until I thought I couldn’t breathe.

I clenched my fists in the dirt, gripping him, and whispered through the chaos, “Don’t you dare leave me here. 

Negan’s eyes fluttered open weak, unfocused, but still finding me. His lips parted, barely a breath of a sound. “Not… going anywhere,” he rasped, the words trembling. “Not… from you.”

Find other parts here

I made my way to the cafeteria, grabbed a plate of food, and decided almost instantly that I didn’t feel like sitting with anyone. The room was loud, packed, eyes darting toward me with that mix of curiosity and quiet judgment I’d been feeling all day. No thanks.

So I headed back down the hall, plate in hand, letting the quiet swallow me. The further I got from the crowd, the more my shoulders loosened. Eating alone sounded a hell of a lot better than pretending I didn’t notice people staring.

I was halfway to my room when I heard a familiar voice call out behind me.

“Hey, boss lady!”

I stopped and spun around. Laura stood there, grinning like she’d been waiting to use that line.

“Oh, fuck, please don’t call me that,” I groaned, laughing despite myself.

She walked toward me, twirling a small bottle between her fingers. “Too late. You’ve already made it stick. But” she held up the bottle, eyebrows raised, “I did want to congratulate you on the new role. So. Celebratory drink?”

Her smirk was contagious.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, matching it with one of my own. 

“Your room or mine?” she asked, teasing.

I paused, shrugging. “Uhh… my room is kind of…well, not just mine,” I admitted.

Laura laughed, pointing a finger at me. “Wow, already moved in, too. Yous two don’t move slow, do you?” 

“Come on, let’s go to mine. It’s nicer,” I said, leading the way down the hall to Negan’s room, opening the door, and stepping inside. Laura followed behind

“Sit down, I’ll grab some cups,” I said, heading to the kitchenette.

“So… where is Mr. Big Bad anyway?” she asked settling herself into the armchair.

“Someone from the Kingdom radioed for him,” I replied, setting down two glasses and pouring whiskey.

“And what happened to your face?” she asked, eyeing the butterfly bandage.

“One of the men got lippy, started saying I screwed my way to the top,” I said flatly, picking up the glass she poured. “Then he decided to slap me. But Negan… he stepped in before I could go further.”

“Assuming he’s dead then?” Laura asked, taking a slow sip.

I shook my head. “Actually… no. I stopped him before it went too far.”

Laura’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Negan letting something like that slide? Not the Negan I know.” She leaned back, smiling warmly at me. “You really are changing him, aren’t you? Making him better. I can see it. He’s starting to have hope again for a future… I see a crack of the version of the old Negan I met so long ago. And you… you did that, Mae.”

I let out a soft laugh, glancing down at my whiskey. “Mmm I dunno, I guess I did,” I said quietly, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“No guess work, you have” Laura’s eyes softened, and she leaned forward, pointing at me with a teasing grin. “You’ve changed the dynamic here, Mae. He’s not just Negan the Saviour boss anymore. He’s… him. With you.”

I smiled faintly, a little embarrassed, looking down at my glass. “I guess… I never thought someone like him could change. Or that I’d fall for him. But… here we are.”

Laura laughed softly, shaking her head. “Yeah… here you are. And he’s a lucky man, you know. You’ve got brains, guts, and heart and apparently, the patience of a saint.”

I chuckled. “Patience? With him? Don’t flatter me too much.”

She leaned back, smirking. “Hey, I just wanted to point it out. You’re doing more than just surviving this world, Mae. You’re shaping it. Alongside him. And I think… he knows it too. That’s why he lets you lead, why he listens, why he’s finally… calmer. At least sometimes.”

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. “Sometimes, yeah. But you know… he’s still Negan. I wouldn’t want him any other way.”

Laura raised her glass in a small toast. “To you, Mae. For making this place… ours. And for making him better.”

I smiled, clinking my glass against hers. “To us… and the future. May it be messy, complicated, but ours.”

Laura laughed, nodding. “Messy and complicated… sounds about right. But you? You’re going to handle it. Both him and all of this. Don’t let anyone forget it.”

I set my glass down, feeling a warmth that wasn’t just from the whiskey. “I won’t,” I said quietly. “Not now. Not ever.”

She chuckled to herself, and I raised an eyebrow. “What?” I asked, curious.

“Just thinking about that night we got plastered,” she said, grinning. “When you blurted out that Negan had… beautiful eyes? I knew right then you were toast. I could see you had feelings you were desperately trying to push down.”

I groaned, laughing. “Oh yeah, that night. I’m pretty sure I told Negan I wanted to have ‘fun’ with him. And then I added something about going for a ride… on a motorcycle.”

Laura nearly choked on her drink, eyes wide. “You what!?”

I laughed, throwing my head back. “Yeah, I was hammered and clearly not thinking straight!”

Laura shook her head, still laughing. “Oh, Mae… that explains a lot. And here I thought you were all serious and composed back then.”

I smirked, shaking my head at her teasing. “Clearly not. Some things you just can’t hide, especially from you.”

Laura leaned back in her chair, giving me a knowing smile. “So… when did it actually hit you? Not the whole ‘maybe I like him’ stage we already had that talk. I mean the moment you finally admitted to yourself, ‘Yeah… damn. I’m really falling for this man.’”

I felt my cheeks heat up and dropped my gaze to my plate, pretending to study the food like it was suddenly fascinating. “Well… you know. After all the drinking that night at the bar, my feelings for him were pretty damn obvious,” I admitted with a breathy little laugh. “I was still trying so hard not to give in, though. But shit, did I want to jump his damn bones that night. I’d never wanted a man more in my life. I just… wouldn’t let myself.”

My fingers tightened around the fork as I exhaled slowly. “He knew exactly how badly I wanted him, how every little thing he did got under my skin.” I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “And I knew he wanted me just as much. There were so many moments I could’ve pulled him in and let him take me right there on that damn bar.”

I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat as memories of that night came rushing back. “The night I realized I was actually falling for him… that was the night we found out about the Whisperers. He… he opened up to me about his wife. You know, more than you ever told me before. 

And I realized there was more to him than I thought. The monster he had made himself into. That was all pain. And the fact that he trusted me enough to let me in… that was the moment I realized I was falling in love with him.”

Laura’s eyes widened, and she let out a low whistle, setting her glass down. “Well, would you look at that… head over heels for Mr. Badass Saviour, huh?”

I laughed, pressing a hand to my flushed cheeks. “Mm… yeah, seems I am. How did we even get here?” I murmured, staring down into my glass, a small smile tugging at my lips as thoughts of him and that night flooded my mind. Everything that had happened since then, every moment we’d shared… she was right. I was completely, utterly head over heels for this man.

I lifted my gaze, letting my voice soften, almost vulnerable. “I’m happy. Really happy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this… alive. This… complete.”

“I can see you’re practically glowing,” Laura said, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

Before I could answer, Negan strode through the door, Lucille resting casually on his shoulder. “Well, well, what’s this? A little drinkin’ without me?” His voice carried that familiar mix of cocky amusement and charm as he made his way over.

He sank onto the sofa beside me and, with a mischievous grin, grabbed my legs, draping them over his thighs. “Why the hell you blushing, babygirl? What’s all this chatter about?”

He plucked the cup from my hand, took a long, deliberate sip, then handed it back like a smug gentleman.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, glancing at Laura, cheeks still warming. “Just… you know, usual girl talk.”

“Mhm, sure… girl talk,” he murmured, eyes narrowing playfully. “And what exactly is this ‘girl talk’ about, hmm?”

Laura let out a sly little hum, crossing her arms as if she’d been waiting for this moment. “Oh, you know… just discussing certain men who make our girl here go all pink and giggly.”

“Laura really,” I deadpanned her.

Negan’s brows shot up, interest sparking instantly. “Pink and giggly?” he repeated, turning back to me with a slow, crooked smile. “Now that sounds like somethin’ I’d love to hear more about.”

Negan chuckled low in his chest, eyes locked on mine. “Alright, sweetheart. Spill it. What kind of girl talk makes you blush the second I walk in the room?”

“It was nothing,” I muttered.

Negan shook his head slowly. “Nope. Try again.” He tapped my knee. “C’mon. Daddy wants details.”

I took a slow sip, held his stare, then finally said, voice low and daring, “You wanna know? We were talking about that night in the bar,” I said, heat curling into my tone. “The night I damn near climbed into your lap”

I raised a brow, letting the words land. “Yeah,” I murmured, slow and daring. “That night. The one where I almost jumped you without a second thought.”

Laura choked on her drink. “Oh damn, Mae!”

Negan froze for half a second, eyebrows lifting surprised but then that wolfish grin slid over his face. “Almost, huh? Sweetheart, you were the one who put on Poison by Alice Cooper. Those lyrics were pretty damn revealing of your intentions.”

I leaned back, utterly unbothered. “Mm, maybe. I’ll still argue it just happened to be the next song on the vinyl.” I lifted a brow. “Though if I hadn’t been so busy pretending I didn’t want you, I probably would’ve had you take me right there on top of the pool table.”

Negan blinked once then let out a low, rough laugh that sent a shiver right down my spine. “Well damn, darlin’. That so?”

“Mm-hm.” I tilted my head, matching his stare without flinching. “And maybe I was just telling Laura how you weren’t exactly subtle either. All those looks? All that flirting?” I smirked. “You were practically begging me to give in.”

I shrugged lightly. “So yeah. That’s our girl talk.”

Negan’s eyes darkened, heat rolling off him, his hand tightening possessively on my leg. “Well… ain’t this my lucky fuckin’ day,” he murmured, voice low enough to vibrate.

Laura laughed, pointing between us. “You two are unbelievable.”

I shrugged, grinning. “Hey, he asked.”

But Negan wasn’t listening anymore. Not to her, not to anything except me. He was looking at me like he was two seconds from forgetting Laura was even in the damn room. His breathing had gone low and uneven, his hand sliding higher up my thigh in slow, claiming strokes like every inch he touched was something he’d been starving for.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, hungry, dark, all that ironclad control he was proud of slipping right through his fingers.

Laura noticed. Of course she did.

She cleared her throat, the most awkward warning cough known to man. “Okay wow. Yep. This is absolutely my cue to leave… again.” She set her drink down and shook her head with a laugh. “For the record, this is the second time today you two have run me out of a room.”

Negan finally tore his gaze away from me long enough to glance at her just long enough to smirk. “Sorry for cuttin’ off the girl talk, Laura, but ” His voice dropped as his eyes slid right back to me. “Looks like it’s my turn to listen now.”

A playful growl rumbled in his chest. “Go on, get outta here. Don’t worry we’ll let you survive another room invasion.”

I leaned in slightly, my own smirk tugging at my lips. “Sorry, Laura…we’ll finish this another night.”

Laura laughed as she backed toward the door and pulled it open, paused, and called over her shoulder, voice full of mischief, “And don’t forget to use protection!”

Her laughter echoed down the hallway as the door clicked shut behind her.

Negan chuckled, voice low and teasing. “Protection? Pfft… I’m the pull-out king.”

I rolled my eyes, smirking. “Yeah, except when you’re not.”

He laughed, brushing a hand down my arm. “Hey, I said oopsies. Not my fault, darling… you make me lose all my self-control.” With a wicked grin, he pulled me up onto his lap.

I laughed, resting my hands on his shoulders. “Yeah, your use of ‘oopsies’ really makes it okay… that you let yourself unload inside me.”

Negan’s grin sharpened, his eyes darkening as he caught my chin between his fingers and tilted my face up to his. “Tell me you didn’t like it then,” he murmured low, playful, and a little possessive. His gaze locked onto mine, heat rolling off him.

I swallowed hard.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me you didn’t like me filling you up… and I won’t do it again.”

“I I…” I stuttered, cheeks burning. “Fucking hell, Negan, it’s not like I’m trying to bring a kid into this world. But”

He raised a brow, head tilting just slightly. “But what, sweetheart?”

I leaned in, my lips barely touching his, breath caught in my throat. “But… maybe I liked it. Just a little bit,” I whispered.

He brushed his lips along my jaw. “Say it again…Slower this time. I wanna hear you admit it.”

My breath hitched, his lips ghosting over my skin like he owned every inch of it. “Negan…” I whispered, my voice barely holding steady.

He didn't move, didn't rush just waited demanding the truth without saying another word.

I swallowed, my finger curling into his shirt. “I…liked it.” I murmured softer this time, heat blooming from my chest. “More than I should've.”

I felt him smile against my skin slow and dangerous.

He let out a low hum, almost a growl, his fingers trailing up the back of my neck as he pulled me just a little closer. “More than you should’ve, huh?” he murmured, lips brushing my cheek in a slow, lazy drag that set my pulse on fire.

“Good. ’Cause I sure as hell enjoyed givin’ it to you.”

A shaky breath left me, my fingers curling tighter in his shirt as I met his eyes dark, hungry, waiting. “And if you wanna keep doing that,” I whispered, my voice barely steady, “you’re gonna have to find me something strong for birth control. Like… apocalypse-proof strong.”

Negan froze for half a heartbeat then that grin spread across his face, slow, wicked, and absolutely delighted.

“Well, shit,” he said, thumb stroking my jaw as his eyes dipped to my mouth. “You’re tellin’ me I get to keep filling you up and you want a damn insurance policy?”

I swallowed, leaning in until our noses brushed. “I’m saying,” I breathed, “if you plan on making a habit out of it…we better be smart about it.”

He chuckled, low and full of heat. “Oh, sweetheart… I’ll find you whatever the hell you need.” His hand slid down to my waist. “Because I’m not done with you. Not even close.”

He didn’t give me a second to breathe.

In one swift, effortless movement, Negan’s hands locked around my waist and he lifted me clean off his lap. A startled sound escaped me, half-laugh, half-gasp, before he laid me down on my back across the sofa, his body following mine like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance.

He hovered over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other sliding up my thigh in a slow, claiming drag.

His eyes burned into mine,”You whisper things like that, sweetheart…” He murmured, a wicked smile curling his lips, “and I won’t stop ’til you can’t even say my fuckin’ name right. Beggin’ for more.”

Before I could fire back, his mouth crashed onto mine hungry, deep, impossibly sure like he’d been waiting all damn day to get his hands on me. His fingers slid into my hair, gripping just enough to make my breath catch as he kissed me harder, stealing every bit of air from my lungs.

His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that wiped out any coherent thought. The kiss deepened slow at first, then sharper, needier and I felt myself melt right into him. My fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently, and he let out a low, rough sound from deep in his chest… half-growl, half-groan, all heat.

I broke the kiss just enough to breathe the words against his lips, voice barely steady, “Mm… I’d like to see you try.”

Negan froze for a heartbeat, his breath hot against my lips. Then a slow, dangerous grin unfurled across his face the kind that promised trouble I was definitely asking for.

“Oh, babygirl” he rasped, voice thick and wrecked with want, “you got no idea what you just signed up for.”

I smirked, letting my fingers trail along his arm. “Negan, if you think you can scare me… you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.”

His eyes locked on mine, dark and claiming. “You wanna see scary? Let me just remind you, who exactly is in control here, sweetheart. And trust me… you’re not ready for it.”

I smirked, tilting my head up at him, daring him to prove it.

Negan didn’t wait. His lips crashed onto mine hungry and sharp his hands sliding to my waist to pull me flush against him. The kiss was demanding, teasing, and insistent. His tongue traced mine in slow, deliberate strokes before he pulled back just enough to sink his teeth into my bottom lip, tugging gently with a wicked grin.

Without a second’s hesitation, he scooped me up in one swift motion. My legs instinctively wrapped around him as he carried me to the bed, and with a practiced flick, he laid me down hard enough to thrill and shock me at the same time.

He hovered over me, hands braced on either side, eyes dark almost black with pure, unrestrained lust. The heat radiating off him made my chest ache, and the predatory way he stared down at me left no doubt who was in control… at least for now.

He bent down, undoing the laces of my boots and tossing them aside, before sliding my jeans down my legs in one fluid motion. His hands lingered on my hips for just a heartbeat before reaching for the shirt I was wearing, his shirt. 

“You know,” he said, voice low and amused, eyes sweeping over me, “you look so much better in this than I ever do,” he lifted it over my head, letting it fall between us.

I smirked, tilting my head just slightly. “I know.”

Negan’s grin widened, wicked and sharp. “Awfully cocky tonight, aren’t you, Miss Hawthorne?” He leaned in closer, voice dropping low, rough with heat. “Don’t get too comfortable… you won’t be cocky for long.”

His fingers found the clasp of my bra, a flick of his wrist releasing it before he pulled the straps from my shoulders and sent it sailing to the floor. He tilted my head back, exposing the line of my throat, and his lips were there, finding the exact spot that always made me melt. He knew my body, every sensitive hollow and curve, and I couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped me.

His palm covered my breast, massaging gently as his mouth continued its work on my neck. He pulled back just enough to whisper in my ear, his voice dropping to a rough, gravelly timbre. “Whimpering already, sweetheart? And I’ve barely touched you.”

A shiver traced its way down my spine. His lips blazed a path from my neck to my chest, hovering over my nipple, a deliberate, teasing pause before he flicked his tongue against the peak. He drew it into his mouth, his other hand still working on my other breast. The gentle scrape of his teeth made my breath catch, my back arching instinctively.

He released me, his hands dragging a slow, torturous path down my sides until they reached the lace of my panties. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, holding the tension for a moment before letting them snap back against my skin.

He stepped back, his eyes never leaving mine as his hands went to his belt. The buckle came undone with a soft click, and he drew the leather through the loops with excruciating slowness, coiling it in his hand. He lifted my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. “You trust me, baby girl?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Negan.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low. “Then give me your wrists.”

A moment of hesitation, then I offered them to him. He secured them with the belt, the leather wrapping snugly around my skin. He lifted my chin again, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to my lips. 

Then, with a firm grip on my hips, he pushed me further up the bed, raising my bound wrists and securing the loose end of the belt to the bedpost, leaving me immobile.

He loomed over me, his face inches from mine. “Not going anywhere now, baby.” His thumb stroked my jaw, and for a moment, his expression softened, becoming utterly sincere. “If this gets to be too much, you tell me. If you want out, you say the word ‘red.’ You understand?”

I nodded my stomach knotting with anticipation 

“Words sweetheart, I need to hear you understand” he said thumb stroking my cheek

“Yes Negan I understand” I said 

“Good.” He eased back, stepping off the bed and moving to the foot of it, his gaze dragging over me like a physical touch slow, deliberate, scorching. I felt every place his eyes lingered as if he’d actually run his hands there.

He kicked off his boots, and in one effortless motion, grabbed the hem of his shirt and peeled it over his head. The fabric hit the floor, leaving him in nothing but his jeans, low on his hips, clinging to every hard line of him.

My breath hitched, teeth sinking into my lower lip. fuck. The sight of him like that made my mouth go dry.

He climbed back onto the bed, caging me in with his arms on either side of my head. “Now, what am I going to do with you, baby girl?” he mused. 

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the hollow of my throat as a single finger traced a slow, deliberate path down my body over my collarbone, between my breasts, along my stomach, until it stopped at the last scrap of fabric covering me.

He hooked his fingers into the sides and peeled my panties down my legs, letting them drop to the floor. He took my foot, his lips brushing a kiss against my ankle, then continued his ascent, placing open-mouthed kisses along the inside of my calf. 

My core throbbed in time with his advance, a frantic, needy pulse. He reached my inner thigh, and when he looked up at me, I was already panting, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

He hovered over my core for an eternity, his warm breath the only thing I could feel. I bucked my hips, a silent, desperate plea, and he chuckled, a low, smug sound. “So eager, baby.” 

He leaned in and placed a single, slow kiss on my clit. I gasped, a sharp intake of air, but he pulled away immediately, leaving me wanting. He brought his hand up, sliding a finger through my slick folds, and I sucked in a hard breath. 

He hummed in approval. “Mmm, dripping again. All for me.”

He pushed a single finger inside me, the invasion agonizingly slow, only to withdraw it just as deliberately. I looked down at him, and the smug smirk that played on his lips was my only warning before he sank it back in, just as torturously. He began to pump, setting a languid rhythm that was maddeningly, perfectly insufficient.

“Fucking hell, Negan,” I gasped.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he purred, his voice laced with wicked amusement. “Too slow for you? You want it faster?”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight. “Yes.”

Negan’s smile widened, and he added a second finger, his pace quickening instantly. My head fell back against the pillows as the feeling I craved finally washed over me. He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to tease my clit. My back arched off the bed, a guttural moan tearing from my throat. “Oh, fuck…”

His eyes never left mine, watching my every reaction as he worked. He swirled and sucked, his teeth grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves, all while his fingers curled inside me, stroking against my G-spot with every calculated thrust. I tugged against the belt binding my wrists, my body arching toward him, a silent plea for more. A tingling heat spread through my limbs, a coiling tension tightening in my core as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge.

His fingers quickened, curling with every pass, stroking a fire deep inside me that made me cry out his name. He suckled my clit, drawing the sensitive nub into his mouth, and the relentless pressure sent me spiraling. I began to clench around him, my eyes squeezing shut as the first waves of my orgasm started to crest. “Fuck, Negan… I’m so close,” I panted.

He pulled his mouth away, his voice a low growl against my thigh. “I know. I can feel it.” And just as the pleasure was about to break, he ripped his fingers away, leaving me empty and aching.

“Negan, what the fuck?” I cried out, pulling against the restraints in a desperate, frustrated pant.

He chuckled, a dark, triumphant sound as he watched me writhe. “Frustrating, ain’t it?”

“Not so cocky now, sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice a low, possessive rumble. His thumb began to move, tracing slow, agonizing circles over my clit. “you remember who’s in charge now?”

I shot him a sharp frown, but the second I did, he stilled, hands freezing right where I desperately needed them. My breath caught, frustration sparking through me.

Negan tilted his head, bringing a hand up to his ear, cupping it with exaggerated slowness. “Oh? Nothin’?” he drawled. “No answer, babygirl? No comeback?”

His grin sharpened, eyes dark with satisfaction as he looked down at me. “Where’d that smart mouth go, huh?”

Heat coiled low in my stomach, need twisting together until my voice barely came out at all. I swallowed hard, meeting his gaze even as my body betrayed me.

“…please,” I whispered hating how breathless I sounded, how badly I wanted him.

Negan’s expression changed instantly dangerous, triumphant, hungry. He leaned in, his mouth brushing my jaw, his voice a low rumble against my skin.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured.

He sank his fingers back inside me, curling them instantly. A loud moan tore from my throat. “You’re mine, babygirl,” he growled, his pace quickening, finally giving me the friction I so desperately craved. “I’m in control here. Remember that.”

My hips bucked to meet his hand, a silent, desperate plea for more. The restraint on my wrists was a sweet torment, the leather digging into my skin as I fought against it, my body arching, begging for a release only he could grant. He watched me, his gaze predatory and intense, drinking in every gasp, every shudder, every helpless whimper that fell from my lips.

“Tell me you understand,” he growled, his voice a low command that vibrated through me.

“I understand,” I whimpered, the fight finally draining out of me. He had me exactly where he wanted me: a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, craving a release only he could give me. “I… I’m yours. You’re in charge.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with satisfaction. The circles on my clit resumed, his fingers falling back into that perfect, devastating rhythm, and this time, there was no holding back.

The praise was the final crack in the dam. His fingers, relentless and sure, drove me higher, and the pressure on my clit became a focused, beautiful torment. I was no longer thinking, only feeling the drag of his fingers, the heat of his gaze, the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly possessed.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice a rough, encouraging growl. “Let go. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”

And with his permission, the last thread of my control snapped. The coil in my core burst, and pleasure crashed over me in a blinding, overwhelming wave. I cried out his name, a raw, broken sound as my body convulsed, my inner walls clamping down around his fingers. He didn’t stop, working me through every pulse, every aftershock, until I was a boneless, panting wreck beneath him.

He slowly withdrew his finger and when i finally opened my eyes he was staring down at me primal and proud. He came and hovered over the top on me and placed his hands either side on me “see” he murmured a smug grin on his lips “so much better when you listen”

He placed a kiss on my lips I was shaking slightly still coming down from my release but the look his eyes the heat of his body made my stomach knot up once again I bit my lip he leaned down and placed a kiss on my neck and then moved to my breast sucking on my nipple then pulling back.

I moaned and he pull his head up looking up at me his breath still on my nipple “You want more babygirl” he growled. 

“Yes ” I moved my hands at the belt, he looked at it and then back at me.

“I want to touch you” I panted

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, his eyes glinting with predatory delight. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing my ear.

“Beg,” he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent a shiver straight through me.

The word hung in the air between us, a challenge and a catalyst. My pride flared, a final, defiant spark in the wreckage of my composure. I clenched my jaw, turning my head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze. My breath hitched, a silent war raging inside me between the need to maintain some show of control and the desperate, aching need for him.

He just chuckled, a low, knowing sound. He didn’t press, didn’t rush me. He simply waited, his presence a heavy, suffocating blanket of anticipation. He knew he’d already won. He was just waiting for me to admit it.

The silence stretched, thick with my own unspoken need. Every second that passed was a fresh torture. Finally, I broke. 

I turned my head back, my eyes locking with his, and the last of my resistance crumbled. “Please,” I whispered, the word barely audible. “Negan… please, I need you.”

His hand slid to the back of my neck, thumb brushing the pulse he knew he was responsible for. His voice dropped to a low, intimate rumble. 

“Mm… there she is,” he whispered, leaning in until his forehead nearly touched mine. “My girl. The one who falls apart the second I remind her who she belongs to.”

His fingers tightened just enough to make my breath hitch. “You feel that?” he murmured, lips brushing my cheek without quite kissing. “That little tremble? That’s you remembering exactly who’s in charge here.”

He dragged his mouth to my ear, slow and deliberate. “Say my name like that again,” he whispered, voice low and sinful. “Go on… whisper it like you’re begging me to ruin that sweet little body ’cause that’s exactly what I’m about to do.”

Slowly deliberately he reached up and unbuckled the belt. The leather slipped free, and my arms fell to my sides, tingling, weak, completely at his mercy.

He moved back, sliding off the bed to stand once again at its foot. His eyes never left mine as he popped the button on his jeans and drew down the zipper. He pushed the denim down his hips, kicking them away, leaving him in only his boxers. The fabric strained, the bulge beneath thick and heavy, a promise of what was to come.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slid those down as well, and his cock sprang free, hard and imposing. I bit my lip at the sight, a fresh wave of desire washing over me.

He crawled back onto the bed, caging me in once more. I reached up, my hands finding his shoulders, then trailing down his chest until my fingers wrapped around his hard length. It pulsed in my hand, hot and alive. I stroked him once, twice, and a low groan rumbled in his chest.

He gently but firmly pulled my hand away, shifting his hips to line himself up with my entrance. My pussy throbbed in anticipation as I felt the broad head of him press against me. He pushed in slowly, a deliberate, inch-by-inch invasion that stretched my walls, and I moaned at the exquisite, overwhelming fullness.

“Fuck,” I moaned, the word torn from me as he filled me to the brim. He groaned, a low, guttural sound of satisfaction, and stilled, giving me a moment to adjust to his size. Then he began to move, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in, just as agonizingly slow as before with his fingers. Just as I was about to protest, he withdrew completely.

In one swift, fluid motion, he flipped me over, so I was face down on the mattress. He grabbed my hips, yanking them up until I was on my knees, my ass high in the air, completely exposed to him.

He teased my entrance again, sliding the slick head of his cock up and down my dripping folds before pushing back inside, just as slowly as before. It was too much and not enough, a deliberate, maddening tease. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew my body was screaming for more.

“Fucking hell, Negan just move,” I cried out, my voice tight with frustration.

He came down behind me, his body blanketing my back. He swept my hair aside, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck as one hand gripped my hip and the other wrapped around my throat, a possessive, thrilling hold. 

He brought his mouth to my ear. “You want it harder, baby?” he breathed, his voice a low, deliberate taunt.

“Yes,” I gasped, the word barely a whisper.

He kissed the spot behind my ear, his lips a brand. “You want it deeper?” he growled.

“Yes, please, yes,” I begged, cursing myself even as the words left my mouth. He had made me beg again, and in our silent war of dominance, I was losing spectacularly.

“Look at you,” he whispered against my ear, his voice a low, intimate caress. “So beautiful when you surrender.” 

And with that, he slammed into me, deep and powerful, stealing the air from my lungs. He set the pace with controlled, deep movements, his hand on my hip and the other still wrapped around my throat. He lifted me, forcing my back to arch into him.

“My good girl,” he praised, and the words alone made me shake. He released my throat, bringing his other hand to my hip, his grip firm and possessive as he drove into me again and again.

With both hands locked on my hips, he had complete leverage. The new angle was intense, his cock hitting a place so deep inside me it leaving me with a blinding, amazing pleasure that made my toes curl. He was relentless, a perfect, punishing rhythm that stole my breath and shattered my thoughts into a million pieces. The sharp crack of his hand against my ass echoed in the room, a sudden sting that bloomed into a throbbing heat, blending seamlessly with the overwhelming pleasure.

My moans were muffled by the pillows, my fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as I tried to anchor myself against the overwhelming sensations. His thrusts were controlled, deep and measured, each one a deliberate stroke that sent shockwaves through my entire body. 

There was no rushing, no frantic pace, just a powerful, relentless rhythm that owned me completely. Every thrust was a claim, a possessive act that screamed you are mine without him needing to speak a single word, branding the truth of it so deep inside me I knew I would never forget it.

Just as I felt his rhythm begin to falter, his thrusts becoming more erratic, he pulled out, leaving me achingly empty. I barely had time to register the loss before he flipped me over, the movement so fluid and powerful it left me breathless. I was on my back again, staring up at him, my chest heaving.

His eyes were dark, burning with a, predatory hunger. He grabbed my leg, lifting it and draping it over his shoulder, opening me up to him completely. The new position was vulnerable, exposed, and incredibly sexy. He leaned forward, his body folding over mine, his cock pressing against my entrance once more. He paused, his eyes locking onto mine, holding me captive.

“I want to see your pretty face when you cum all over my cock,” he rasped, his voice raw and possessive.

And then he pushed inside, filling me in one deep, smooth stroke. The angle was electrifying, and I cried out, my hands flying up to grip his forearms. He set a punishing pace from the start, his hips snapping against mine, his gaze never leaving my face.

He watched every flicker of pleasure, every gasp, every flutter of my eyelids, as if he were memorising the very moment he was breaking me apart all over again. The knot in my stomach tightened with brutal speed, a second, more powerful release already building under his intense, focused stare.

His thrusts were relentless, a deep, powerful rhythm that pushed me higher and higher. His gaze was an anchor, holding me in place as the pleasure threatened to pull me under. I was completely exposed, unable to hide a single reaction, and the vulnerability was as intoxicating as the pleasure itself.

“That’s it,” he grunted, his voice rough with exertion. “Don’t you look away. I want to see you.”

The command was my undoing. The knot in my core snapped, and my orgasm tore through me, sharp and blinding. My back arched against the bed, a strangled cry ripping from my throat, my lips trembling so badly I couldn’t even form his name, just a broken, breathless jumble of sounds, all raw, desperate need, as my body convulsed around him.

I kept my eyes locked on his, just as he’d ordered, and the sight of his own expression a mixture of awe and raw, primal triumph as I came was the most intense thing I had ever felt.

His thrusts continued, drawing out every last wave of my pleasure as I trembled beneath him. I could feel him getting closer, his rhythm turning ragged, his movements losing their precision. With a final, deep thrust, he pulled out, his breath coming in harsh pants.

“Open up,” he commanded, his voice rough and urgent.

I leaned forward, parting my lips just as he came with a guttural groan his hands clutched in my hair and my name and curses leaving his lips. The hot, salty liquid hit my tongue, and I swallowed, taking everything he gave me.

He collapsed beside me, his body a heavy weight that made the mattress dip. For a moment, the only sound was our combined breathing ragged, uneven slowly syncing into a steady rhythm. The air was thick with the scent of us, sex and sweat and something deeper, something that still buzzed just beneath my skin.

The mattress dipped again as he propped himself up on an elbow. I didn’t open my eyes right away, I was still floating in that warm, dazed fog, every nerve humming. A finger brushed along my jaw soft, too soft after how he’d had me moments before and I startled slightly, eyes flicking open.

He was watching me. That grin half devil, half mystery lingered at the corner of his mouth. The raw hunger he’d worn earlier had shifted into something slower, heavier a satisfied heat that made my chest tighten.

He leaned down and kissed me slow, deliberate, nothing like the claiming intensity from before. This one lingered. Melted. Pulled another shiver from my bones even though I thought I had nothing left to give.

When he pulled back, the smirk sharpened. “So,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “who’s in charge now, huh?”

I breathed out a shaky laugh, but instead of answering, I pushed a hand against his chest not quite a shove, more a tired attempt at defiance. “Don’t start,” I muttered, pretending my muscles weren’t jelly. “That doesn’t mean–”

He arched a brow, wicked and amused. “Oh, sweetheart… it means exactly that.”

I tried to glare at him. I really did. But my fingers curled into the warm skin of his chest, pulling him a little closer instead of pushing him away. My body betrayed me before my mouth could.

“Negan,” I whispered, a last flicker of protest flickering out on his name.

He waited silent, patient, smugly certain.

And then it broke out of me, soft and breathless, all the fight slipping from my bones.

“You are,” I exhaled, surrender threading through every word. My thumb dragged along his jawline, helpless to do anything else. “You’re in charge.”

His smirk deepened into something darker, something satisfied to the core and then turned tender. He leaned in again, kissing me deeper this time not to dominate, not to tease, but to say all the things words couldn’t.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, breathing me in. “I love you so damn much,” he murmured, voice rough with truth.

My chest tightened, in the good way. I reached up, brushing my fingers along the stubble on his cheek. “I love you too,” I whispered.

Negan eased onto his back, guiding me with him until I was tucked against his chest. His arms wrapped around me securely, his hand tracing slow, lazy lines up and down my spine. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead gentle and grounding.

He took my wrist carefully, turning it palm-up. His thumb brushed the faint redness, his expression shifting into pure concern. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a slow kiss there. “Did it hurt you?” he asked quietly, eyes searching mine.

“No… it didn’t,” I breathed, warmth and honesty rolling through me. “I uhh… I liked it. A lot.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, the sound vibrating against my cheek. He slid his hand down to lace his fingers with mine, settling them over his heart. “Good,” he murmured, giving my hand a soft squeeze. “’Cause I sure as hell liked it too.” 

We lay there together in the quiet, wrapped in each other’s warmth. My gaze drifted down to his hand the same one that had defended me earlier. His knuckles were already darkening, the bruises blooming across them. Without thinking, the fingers I had intertwined with his grazed the injured skin.

Negan noticed instantly. His eyes softened as he watched me trace the bruise.

“You know,” he breathed, voice low and honest, “a month ago… I would’ve beaten that guy to a pulp.”

My fingers kept moving over the bruised knuckles, gentle, calming like I was reminding him he didn’t have to be that man anymore.

“I know,” I whispered, a tiny smile tugging at my lips. “Trust me I’m very familiar with the old you.” I nudged his shoulder lightly. “But I kinda like this version better.”

“A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. ‘Kinda like this version, huh? I better watch myself… sounds like you’re setting dangerously high standards.’”

I smiled, letting my fingers squeeze his hand. “Lucky for you… I know you can live up to them.”

His grin widened, and before either of us could say another word, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. My hand tightened around his, pulling him closer as the world narrowed down to just the two of us. 

We lay there, naked and tangled together, holding each other in the quiet, savoring the peace while it lasted before the chaos of the next mission hit.

“What did the Kingdom want, anyway?” I asked lazily, my fingers tracing the lines of his tattoo across his chest.

“Mm… actually, it was all the communities on the radio,” he said, brushing my hair back in gentle strokes.

“What?!” I exclaimed, rolling onto my stomach so I could look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Did you talk to Rick?” I asked, trying to keep the worry from my voice.

He chuckled softly, a low, teasing sound. “Don’t stress that pretty little head of yours, gorgeous girl. I was civil. As much as I can be…can’t exactly turn off the charm, you know?”

I pushed him lightly, laughing then my brows pulling together. “Seriously, Negan… what did you say?”

He sighed, the joking edge dropping from his voice. “They’ve spotted Beta. And the horde.”

My stomach tightened.

“It’s movin’ east straight toward Hilltop,” he continued. “So we need to move tomorrow now. Just like we talked about. Draw the herd to the old warehouse, heard ’em, take out the Whisperers and Beta, then lead the rest of the dead off the cliffs.”

My breath caught. “Negan… why didn’t you tell me that right away?”

He reached up, brushing his knuckles along my jaw, something soft flickering in his eyes.

“Because,” he murmured, “I wanted you to have a damn nice moment before all hell breaks loose again. Just one.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “You deserved that.”

He moved closer and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to my lips, his hand coming up to cradle the side of my face. The touch was tender in a way that made my chest ache.

“I know,” I whispered against his mouth. “And I appreciate that, Negan… I really do. But I still wish I knew.”

My hand slid up his chest, resting over his heartbeat. “I’m leading with you, remember? Which means we’re in this together. You don’t have to protect me from the truth. Not from this. Not from anything.”

His eyes softened just a fraction, just enough to show the crack beneath the steel before he let out a slow breath, thumb stroking my cheek like he was memorizing it.

“That’s the thing, Mae.” His voice dropped, low and rough. “I know you can handle it. Hell, you handle more than most people I’ve ever met. But…” He paused, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Let me have this. Let me give you one damn quiet moment before we walk into something that could get real ugly.”

My throat tightened. “I’m not planning on losing you out there.”

“Good,” he said, a ghost of a smirk returning. “Don’t. ’Cause I’m sure as shit not planning on losing you.”

He rolled onto his side, pulling me against him, one arm looping around my waist, grounding me against the warmth of his body. His voice softened again.

“We go in careful. We go in smart. And we finish this.”

I nodded into his chest, eyes closing for a beat as his thumb stroked slow circles over my hip.

“When do we leave?” I asked quietly.

“Dusk.” His lips brushed the top of my head. “Get some sleep, gorgeous girl. Tomorrow… we end it.”

His hand began sliding slowly up and down my back, steady and warm, grounding me in a way nothing else could.

The rise and fall of his breathing, the quiet rhythm of his touch, the soft weight of his body against mine… it all blended into a comforting haze.

Find other parts here

The next couple of hours in the Sanctuary passed fast not because they were easy, but because neither of us let go of the other for more than a breath. I didn’t leave Negan’s side, and he sure as hell didn’t let me. After everything we’d just been through… after everything still ahead of us… being close felt less like a choice and more like survival.

We moved through the halls together, checking on stations, supplies, schedules making sure the Sanctuary was still running clean despite his days away. People kept stopping to stare, but not out of shock anymore. It was respect and curiosity.

By the time the meeting rolled around, the air in the conference room felt tight, expectant. I sat beside Negan at the head of the table like it was the most natural thing in the world. And when we started talking, we spoke as one.

We laid everything out Alpha, the infiltration, how she died, how Beta vanished into the wind like a ghost with teeth. The remaining Whisperers. The hoard still shambling out there, growing by the day.

Every pair of eyes stayed locked on us as we shifted into the next phase: the plan.

“The communities are ready,” I explained, hands resting on the table, voice steady. “One convoy will draw the hoard with loudspeakers lead them straight to the cliff. Once they’re over, that’s the bulk of the threat gone.”

“Meanwhile,” Negan added, arms folded, gaze sharp, “another team moves through the dead slow and quiet gutted up, hoods on taking out Whisperers one-by-one. Clean. Surgical.”

A murmur rippled around the room.

“We know Beta will be there,” I continued. “He’ll be watching the hoard. And when he sees us pushing his precious dead over that cliff? He’ll come. He won’t be able to help himself.”

Negan leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into something rough and sure. “That’s when we end this. All of it.”

Silence followed not the fearful kind, but the focused kind. The kind where people were absorbing every detail, every word, every step that would decide whether they lived through the next week.

They listened. To me. To him. To us.

When we finished, the room stayed silent for a long moment, tension settling heavy and expectant. That’s when Negan stood.

Slowly. Intentionally.

He scanned the room each lieutenant meeting his eyes, some defiant, some confused, some waiting for orders.

Then he spoke. “Alright,” he said, voice low but carrying the weight of a hammer hitting steel. “Before we move forward, there’s one more thing you all need to hear.”

The room shifted, a ripple of unease rolling through it.

Negan placed a hand on the back of my chair. “Mae,” he said, “is not just here giving you a rundown. She’s not just help from the outside. And she sure as hell ain’t just standin’ next to me because of whatever bullshit reasons some of you are probably thinkin’.”

A few people glanced at each other. Negan’s jaw tightened just slightly.

“She’s leadin’ this place with me now.”

The reaction was instant wide eyes, stiff shoulders, a muttered swear from someone who thought he said it too quiet.

Negan didn’t care.

“She’s my equal,” he continued, firm. “My partner in this and before any of you dumbasses let your brains wander to the wrong damn place, no. This ain’t about that. He flicked his hand vaguely, dismissing the implication with a scoff. “But because she’s a damn good leader. Because she’s the only one in this room who’s managed to build real connections with every single community out there ones we need if we want somethin’ better than just survivin’ day to day.”

He leaned forward on his palms.

“Mae’s gonna help turn this place into the future we keep talkin’ about but never get off our asses to build. She’s gonna help make this a Sanctuary that actually means somethin’. Something better than fear and order. Something people can trust.”

His voice softened, but the steel underneath didn’t waver. “She’s earned this. Every damn step of the way, so from here on out,” he said, looking back at the lieutenants. 

“Mae is your leader now, same as me. My equal. You treat her with the same respect you show me. You listen when she speaks. You follow her orders like they’re mine. Because they damn well are.

He straightened again.

“And if any of you got a problem with that…” He smiled. Slow. Dangerous. “…you can bring it to me.”

No one said a word. Not a single objection. In that silence heavy, electric, full of shifting ground I felt it.

The change. The acceptance. The beginning of something new I didn’t just feel like someone standing beside Negan.

I felt like a leader.

The meeting wrapped with the low rumble of chairs scraping back and people murmuring to one another, still processing everything that had just been dropped on them Alpha dead, the coming war with the horde, and me sitting at Negan’s side like I’d always belonged there.

Negan clapped his hands together once. “Alright, get movin’. You know your roles. We ain’t got time to drag our asses on this. Dismissed.”

People stood, nodding, whispering, eyeing me with… respect? Curiosity? A little shock? All of it.

Simon pushed through the line last, stopping right beside me. He gave Negan a long look, then turned his gaze on me not mocking, not snide, just accepting in that Simon way.

He patted my back, firm enough to jolt me forward a bit. “Well, look at you,” he said with a smirk. “Congratulations… boss.”

I huffed a laugh under my breath. “Thanks, Simon.”

He gave a short, almost respectful nod, then headed out with the others, barking orders the second he hit the hallway.

One by one, the lieutenants filed out. Dwight, Arat, the others. Some curious glances, some approving ones, a couple strained ones but no one pushed back. No one challenged it. That alone told me how far Negan’s word still carried here.

Laura lingered at the doorway, watching everyone leave before turning back toward us. She caught my eye again, and this time her smile was even softer warm, proud, something that made my chest tighten.

The room emptied until it was just the three of us me, Negan, and Laura lingering in the doorway with her arms crossed and that knowing smirk she always wore when she was pretending not to be smug.

Negan stepped up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling my back firmly into his chest. His chin brushed the top of my head as he held me there, warm and solid, like he had no intention of letting go now that the room wasn’t watching.

Laura arched a brow at us, then laughed under her breath.

“I just wanna point out,” she said, pointing at me, “I called this from the start.”

I blinked. “Called what?”

Laura crossed her arms, smirking. “Hello? I’m not dumb I have eyes. And you two?” She pointed between you with a dramatic flick. “You’re terrible at hiding how you look at each other. Especially you.” She jabbed a finger at me. “Miss ‘I hate Negan’ my ass.”

Negan snorted, his chest rumbling against my back as he held me tighter. “Oh, come on,” he drawled, eyeing Laura with a crooked smirk. “Don’t act like you’re some damn genius, Laura. Anybody with half a brain could’ve seen it.”

He tilted his head down toward me, brushing his nose against my temple. “Mae here?” He tapped my hip lightly. “She was the worst liar I’ve ever seen. Whole time she was struttin’ around goin’, ‘I hate him, I can’t stand him,’ meanwhile she was lookin’ at me like she wanted to climb me like a damn tree.”

Laura burst out laughing, pointing at me triumphantly. “Thank you! That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”

Covering my face with my hands, I let out a laugh. “Ugh, alright, alright…guess i've been caught out?

Negan chuckled, low and smug. “Yeah, well… guess the secret’s out now. And honestly?” His arms tightened around me a little, voice dropping warmer. “Kinda nice not hidin’ it anymore.” 

“Might have to agree with you on that one, boss,” I said, leaning my head back against his shoulder.

Laura snorted, looking between us. “So I guess that makes you my boss now too.” She lifted a brow, grinning. “You gonna make me kneel or what?”

I burst out laughing, Negan too. “No way, Laura. Fucking hell.” I said, still laughing. “And neither is he anymore.” I jerked my thumb back at Negan.

“Oh, is that fucking right, baby?” Negan murmured, turning my chin so I had to look up at him.

“Yep,” I shot back, cocky. “New regime. You gotta listen to me now. I run this place too.”

He smirked, eyes dragging over my face like he was memorizing every inch. “Damn, promoted you less than two minutes ago and you’re already givin’ me orders. Sexy as hell.” His fingers curled under my chin, tilting it up. “Oh but babygirl… don't you forget you’ll still be the one kneelin’ for me.”

“Ew, please spare me the details,” Laura groaned, mock-glaring at us. Negan leaned down, smirk curling on his lips. “Ah, don’t worry, Laura… some things are way too hot to repeat. You wouldn’t survive the gossip.”

Laura laughed, waving a hand. “Yeah, yeah… that’s my cue to leave.” She headed for the door, glancing back with a grin.

I called after her, smirking, “By, Laura… we’ll talk later.”

Negan pressed his chest against my back tighter, lips trailing down my neck I shivered at the sensation, tilting my head slightly into him.

Laura shut the door behind her, pausing for a second. “Yeah… I’m sure you will,” she said with a knowing laugh before leaving.

Negan’s mouth trailed along my neck, slow and deliberate, and when he found that spot just below my jaw, my knees nearly buckled. My eyes fluttered shut as his hand slid up my side, his thumb brushing warm against my ribs. A soft, involuntary whimper escaped me.

He hummed against my skin, smug and knowing. “There she is…”

“Okay okay,” I breathed, half laughing, half melting. “Enough, before this goes too far and you end up doing me on the meeting room table.”

Negan paused, lips still grazing my skin before he pulled back just enough to turn me around and look at me. His eyes were dark hungry. “I dunno, baby… that sounds like a damn good idea to me.”

I planted my hands on his chest, trying not to smile and failing. “Negan, no. You can have your way with me later. I am not risking someone walking in and seeing you fuck me senseless on the table where we literally just held a leadership meeting.”

He raised a brow, wicked and amused.

“Especially,” I continued, poking a finger into his chest, “when half of them probably already think that’s how I got this job.”

Negan’s smirk sharpened. He angled closer, lowering his voice. “Baby girl… I think we both know you earned this job more than anyone in that damn room.”

I pretended to consider that, then grinned up at him, teasing. “Good. Then you can wait until tonight, in our bed. Think you can handle that, boss?”

Negan let out a low growl, his hands sliding down to grip my hips, fingers pressing in just enough to make my breath hitch. “Oh, sweetheart…” he murmured, leaning in close, lips brushing my cheek. “I can handle anything you throw at me.”

He kissed the corner of my jaw slow, teasing, deliberate. “But keepin’ my damn hands off you?” His voice dipped, hot and rough against my skin. “Oof… that’s gonna be the hardest thing I’ve done all day.” 

I bit my lip, letting out a soft hum. “Mmm… guess you’re just going to have to try your best, then.”

Negan’s throat worked as he swallowed, eyes dark and hungry, that unmistakable bulge in his pants giving away just how badly he wanted me. He let out a low huff and stepped back slightly. “Alright… alright. Keeping my hands to myself… for now.”

“Good. Now, I believe this place isn’t going to run itself, boss man, so I’m actually going to go get some work done. You should try it sometime,” I said, backing toward the door with a cheeky grin.

“Such a mouth you’ve got on you, missy,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

I reached for the door, opening it, and glanced back at him. “Yeah… you know what else this mouth is good for,” I teased, letting the words hang in the air.

Negan laughed, deep and warm. “Go on… before I make you demonstrate again.”

I blew him a kiss, then shut the door behind me, exhaling and trying to pull myself together. Walking down the hallway, 

I let myself settle into the role, observing, giving orders, and surprisingly, everyone listened. Most took my words without hesitation.

Until the end of the day in the yard.

A gruff voice muttered behind me one of the men whose name I didn’t even know. “Now we gotta take orders from this bitch… just ‘cause she got on her knees for Negan and did what he wanted. What a whore” He paused, shaking his head. “…And now I’m supposed to respect her? See her as my leader? No fucking way.”

I froze for a beat, my jaw tightening, but I didn’t turn. I let the words hang, heavy and bitter, knowing that part of leading was weathering exactly this kind of storm.

I turned around and walked straight up to them “Uhm…” I said, letting the single syllable hang long enough to make him realize he’d been overheard. 

“I don’t give a damn what you think about me,” I said, voice low, hard, unshaken. “I didn’t claw my way up here to win your approval, and I sure as hell didn’t get here by playing anyone’s game. You follow my orders. You respect me. Or you get the hell out of my way.”

Before I could even blink, he stepped in and slapped me. The crack snapped through the yard loud, sharp, shocking. My head whipped to the side, my cheek burning hot.

“Shut up, bitch,” he spat.

For a moment, everything froze. I straightened, breath catching and then I heard it.

Negan’s voice. Low. Lethal. “The fuck did you just do?”

I hadn’t heard him approach. One moment he wasn’t there, the next he stormed past me, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the wall so hard dust shook loose.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Negan roared.

The man choked, feet slipping as he tried to stay upright.

Before he could speak, Negan’s fist slammed into his face, sending him stumbling. He tried to swing back, desperate, but Negan moved too fast, too angry. He grabbed the man’s shirt and threw him to the ground like dead weight.

The man hit hard, coughing, trying to crawl away.

Negan didn’t let him.

He dropped down over him, knees pinning him in place, and punched him again hard knuckles cracking against bone. The man’s head jerked sideways, a groan ripping out of him, hands flailing weakly.

Negan shoved those hands aside and drove another punch into his jaw.

“You think you can hit her?” he barked, breath rough, shaking with fury.

The man choked, dazed, barely responding.

Negan grabbed him by the throat, both hands closing tight. The man clawed at him, useless, as Negan leaned in, grip tightening, breathing heavy, every bit of that raw anger pouring through his hands.

“Negan,” I said sharply, stepping in and grabbing his arm.

He didn’t react. Not really. His chest heaved like he couldn’t get enough air, knuckles white around the man’s throat, eyes locked on him like he was already dead. I could feel the tension in his muscles tight, trembling, ready to snap.

“Negan,” I said again, softer this time. Closer. “Look at me.”

For a second he didn’t. It was like he couldn’t. Like he was stuck in that place he went when the anger took over dark, blinding, familiar.

“Let me go, Mae,” he growled, his voice shaking with how close he was to losing control. “I’m going to teach this piece of shit exactly what happens when he thinks he can lay his hands on you.”

“No.” The word left me steady, stronger than I expected. I moved closer, my hand sliding from his arm to the side of his jaw so he had no choice but to see me.

That did it.

His eyes snapped to mine wild at first and then shifting when he saw my face. The anger didn’t disappear, but it cracked. I watched it happen, watched him fight to focus on me and not the rage burning through him.

“Mae, he hit you,” Negan snarled, but his voice broke around the edges, like it physically hurt him to say it. “He fucking hit you. I’m not letting that slide.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I know. But you’re not killing him over this.”

His jaw clenched so hard I could hear his teeth grind. His grip on the man’s throat tightened for a heartbeat one last spike of violence before I laid my hand over his, pressing down gently.

“You’re better than that,” I told him, holding his stare like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “You don’t need to spill blood to prove anything. Not for me.”

Negan’s throat bobbed. His breathing slowed, the tension in his shoulders easing bit by bit as he looked at me instead of the man beneath him. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of us standing there, and the rage finally loosened its grip on him.

Finally reluctantly he let go.

The guy sucked in a ragged breath, coughing. Negan pushed back, still furious, but contained now. Controlled because I asked him to be.

He leaned down close, voice low and dangerous. “You ever touch her again… hell, you even look at her wrong… I’ll make what happened today feel like a love tap. Got it?”

The man nodded fast, terrified.

“Good,” Negan snapped, shoving him aside. The man hit the ground and didn’t dare get up. “Now get the fuck out of my sight before I change my mind.”

The guy stumbled to his feet and bolted down the hall, practically tripping over himself in his rush to escape.

Negan didn’t watch him go, his eyes were already on me. The rage melted into worry so fast it almost looked like pain.

He stood up towards me slowly, like he was afraid I might break. “Baby…” His voice was rough, breathless. “Did he…shit…did he hurt you?”

I lifted a hand to my cheek where the slap had landed, heat still blooming there. My fingertips brushed a thin sting of blood, a small cut where his ring must’ve caught my skin.

Negan’s whole expression collapsed into panic and fury at once.

“Baby…” His voice dropped low, rough, pained. He stepped in close, cupping my jaw with hands that were still trembling with rage. “He cut you.” His thumb ghosted just under the small line of blood, careful not to touch it. “Fucking hell, Mae…”

“I’m okay,” I whispered, grounding a hand on his wrist. “It’s just a scratch.”

“The hell it is,” he muttered, eyes dark, jaw ticking hard. “He put his hands on you. On you.” His voice cracked with something rawer, something he usually swallowed down. “I should’ve put that son of a bitch through the damn wall.”

I caught his other hand before he could pull away. “Hey look at me.”

He did.

“It’s done,” she said softly. “You stopped. That’s what matters.”

His eyes flicked back to the cut like it physically hurt him to see. “You shouldn’t ever have to take a hit like that. Not from anyone. And not because of me.”

“It wasn’t because of you,” I said firmly. “It was because he’s a coward and can’t handle a women running things.”

Negan exhaled shakily, thumb brushing my hair back so he could see my whole face. “Still wanna fuckin’ kill him.”

“I know,” I murmured, leaning into his touch. “You didn’t kill him, You stopped. You’re better than this, Negan. You’re changing for the better.”

Negan swallowed hard, his anger melting into something fierce and protective. “Let me take you to Carson,” he said, voice low but steady, carrying that simmering intensity I knew all too well.

“Negan, I’m fine. It’s just a cut,” I said, lifting my hand to my cheek where the sting of his ring had grazed me, leaving a small, angry mark.

But his eyes dark, sharp, and unyielding gave me that unmistakable ‘don’t argue with me’ look. I knew better than to push. “Alright… come on then,” I murmured.

Negan guided me down the hallway with a steady hand on my back, the anger still simmering under his skin even though he was trying to hide it. 

He didn’t say a word as we stepped into Carson’s office; he just pulled out the chair, set me down on the edge of the bed, and stood close enough that his presence filled the room.

Carson got to work, quiet and efficient. Negan didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t look away from me.

When the cold antiseptic touched my cheek, I winced. Negan’s hand immediately slid into mine, firm and grounding. I squeezed back, letting him know I was okay.

The butterfly bandage pressed gently against my skin a small sting, but enough to remind me of the chaos that had exploded minutes ago, the look on Negan’s face when he saw me get hit, the way he came apart and then pulled himself back together because I asked him to.

“Hold still,” Carson muttered, placing another small strip.

Negan huffed a breath, tension finally easing from his shoulders.

That’s when the door pushed open.

Simon stepped inside, smirk already in place until he saw Negan standing right beside me, our hands still intertwined. He lifted a brow, amused.

“Mae, got yourself in a fight already?” he teased.

I let out a slow exhale. “No. Nothing like that.” My voice was calm, steady. “Just some loudmouth who can’t handle a woman in authority.”

Simon chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. Sounds about right.”

He turned to Negan. “Boss, radio room. Someone from the Kingdom wants you.”

Negan’s jaw twitched. His hand tightened around mine for a second, like he hated the idea of walking away even for a moment. He finally looked down at me, concern flickering in his eyes.

“I’m good,” I said softly. I placed my free hand on his chest right over his heartbeat and gave him a reassuring push. “Go.”

He leaned in, the shift subtle but filled with more emotion than he’d ever admit out loud.

“Alright,” he murmured.

His lips brushed mine slow, lingering, still heavy with the adrenaline of everything that had just happened. I kissed him back, letting him know he didn’t have to worry.

When he pulled away, he didn’t look pleased about leaving, but he finally straightened and followed Simon out the door. The room felt noticeably quieter without him, like the air settled.

Carson finished taping the last strip and stepped back. “You’re all set.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Thanks, doc. For fixing me up… again.” I gave him a small laugh, trying to shake off the leftover tension.

He smirked lightly as he put away the supplies. “One of these days, you’re going to let yourself stay out of trouble.”

“Unlikely,” I said, hopping off the bed and rubbing my cheek gently. “But I’ll try.”

Find other parts here

Negan opened the passenger door for me with a little dramatic flourish, like he always did, I slid into the car and then into the seat.

He shut the door gently, then rounded the front of the truck, boots crunching on gravel, and hopped in next to me, before we took off he grabbed my hand and placed a kiss on my knuckles, and the we took off.

The engine rumbled to life, low and steady, and as we pulled away from Hilltop, the settlement shrinking behind us, I finally let my shoulders drop. The trees blurred past in streaks of green and gold as morning settled over the world.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Negan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh rubbing soothing circles with his thumb every known and then I slid my over top of his and he turned to me and smiled. Then turned back the road. 

“You okay?” he asked quietly, eyes still on the road but voice softer than anyone else ever got to hear.

I exhaled, a tired laugh leaving me. “Yeah. Just… processing everything.”

“Well,” he drawled, squeezing my hand gently, “you did damn good. Better than good. You handled yourself like a damn force of nature.”

His words hit deeper than I expected. Warm. Grounding. Real.

I glanced at him, my voice barely steady. “You scared me, you know… really scared me. It made me realize just how” I swallowed hard, eyes shifting back to the road the same way his stayed fixed forward. “how terrified I am of losing you.”

The words felt too big, too vulnerable, and they lodged in my throat for a moment.

“This… whatever this is between us… it’s real. It’s deep. And that’s what makes it so damn terrifying.” My breath shook as I let it out. “I’ve never felt anything like this before, Negan. Not in this world. Not when everything can be taken away in an instant.”

I paused, trying to get the storm inside me to settle long enough to speak the truth.

“But what I’m trying to say is…” My voice broke, quiet but certain. “I love you. And I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Negan went still beside me so still I could hear the shift in his breathing. Slowly, like he couldn’t help himself, he turned his head just enough to really look at me.

“Mae…” he murmured, and there was something in his voice I’d barely ever heard raw, unguarded, almost fragile. “I didn’t think I’d ever get somethin’ like this again. Not in this world. Not with the shit I’ve done.”

His eyes softened, all bravado gone.

“But you… you make me want to stay. You make me want to be better. And you’re damn right this is real.”

He reached and grabbed my hand.

“You love me?” he whispered, like he needed to hear it again. “Then you better believe I’m not goin’ anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

He squeezed my hand gently, reverently.

“I love you, Mae. More than I ever thought I’d get the chance to love anyone again.”

His words hit me like a shockwave, knocking the breath straight from my chest. That mix of raw honesty, devotion, and that unmistakable Negan pull… it sank straight into my bones. Deep. Real. Terrifying in the best way.

Heat spread through me so fast I could barely breathe.

“Negan…” My voice came out low, unsteady, almost desperate. “Pull the car over.”

He turned toward me, concern cutting into his features first. “Why? What’s wro–”

Then he saw it.The way my fingers dug into the seat, the way my breath shuddered, the look in my eyes I couldn’t hide.

His expression shifted instantly concern melting into something darker, deeper. A slow smile curved his mouth.

“Pull over,” I breathed. “Right now.”

That was all it took.

His jaw flexed, eyes darkening to a shade that made my pulse stutter. He cut the wheel sharply, gravel spitting up under the tires as the truck slid to a stop with a hard, hungry kind of urgency.

The moment he threw it into park, I didn’t hesitate. The seatbelt clicked free, and I moved straight onto his lap, straddling him before he even had a chance to exhale.

His hands caught my hips, firm and startled, breath leaving him in a low, wrecked sound.

“Fuck, Mae…” he whispered, heat and disbelief tangled in his voice. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” His eyes turned into that fully dangerous, hungry softness that was just for me.

I cupped his face and crashed my mouth into his, the kiss deep from the first second hungry, aching, full of everything I’d felt all night and all day. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer like he could fuse me to him, like he didn’t want even a breath of air between us.

He kissed me back with that same mix of intensity and devotion, like he’d been holding himself together for too long and finally let the dam break. His fingers slid into my hair, tilting my head just right as the kiss deepened, slow at first, then hotter, needier. His lips parted against mine, and he slipped his tongue in with a deliberate, teasing sweep that stole my breath and sent heat flooding through me.

When we finally pulled back, I was breathless. I could feel him, hard and bulging, underneath me. “I need you,” I said, my gaze locked with his. “Right now.”

His eyes darkened at my words, my need for him raw and real, not just sexually driven, but a desperate desire to show him how much I loved him.

His thumb traced my bottom lip, knowing exactly what that did to me.

“Get in the back seat now,” he commanded in a low, demanding voice.

I complied, hopping off his lap and crawling through the gap between the front seats into the back. As I did, Negan gave me a playful slap on the ass as he opened the driver’s side door, then the back door, and climbed in with me.

His lips were back on mine, rough and desperate, both of us driven by urgency. His lips felt like they completed me. His hand found my hair and grabbed hold, guiding his movements as he slipped his tongue in, eliciting a soft moan from me. His other hand slid up under my shirt, cupping my breast over my bra.

My hands grabbed hold of his jacket and pushed it off. He released me for a moment to help, peeling it off and letting it fall to the floor of the car. He returned to me, sliding off my jacket as well, and then pulled my shirt over my head. With a quick, practiced motion, he unclipped my bra. “Fuck,” he groaned, “I’m never getting over your gorgeous body.” He placed a kiss on my lips, then grabbed my chin, tilting my head up to expose my neck.

I hated to admit it, but I loved the way he controlled me. He kissed and suckled at my neck, finding that sweet spot that made me whimper. His hands massaged and cupped my breasts as he continued his assault on my neck.

He moved down from my neck, placing kisses along my collarbone and then down to my breast, taking it in his mouth, sucking on the nipple, and nipping at it gently, making my body shiver. When he pulled back, he looked into my eyes. “Lay back, pretty girl,” he said, placing his hand on my torso and guiding me to lie back across the back seat.

As I lay back, my naked back hit the cold leather. Negan pulled his shirt over his head and looked down at me, hungry, like a predator ready to devour his prey. With deliberate precision, he removed my boots, one by one, before shifting his weight to unbuckle my belt and unbutton my jeans. Each weapon attached to my belt clattered to the floor as he slid my pants down my legs, leaving me vulnerable in just my underwear. 

He crawled over the top of me, his right arm placed beside my head, steadying himself over me. I was grateful we had taken the RAM, as there was more than enough room in the back seat. My stomach twisted with anticipation at the sight of him. He placed a kiss on my lips, and I kissed him back, biting his lip slightly as he pulled away, eliciting a low groan from him.

He slid his hand down my body slowly, and as he reached my panties, he pushed them to the side, teasing my lips with his finger, slowly moving up and down. “So wet,” he said lowly, “Always so wet and ready for me.” Those words made me shiver and burn with desire at the same time, the way his words sounded, the way his tone was. I nodded slowly and bit my lip.

He pushed two fingers inside me, keeping his eyes locked on mine the entire time. I gasped, the sensation overwhelming. He didn’t hesitate, curling his fingers expertly, hitting that spot only he could reach. “Ohh fuck,” I moaned, the sound escaping my lips uncontrollably.

I reached for him, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to mine. I moaned against his mouth as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of me, faster and deeper. “More,” I managed to gasp out, and he complied, increasing the pace and intensity of his movements.

My hands trembled as I tried to reach for his pants, the sensations he was creating within me almost too much to bear. I managed to grab hold of his bulge through his jeans, squeezing it firmly. Negan groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through me, and he sped up his movements, his fingers curling with each thrust.

“I’m so… fuck… so close,” I moaned breathlessly, and Negan continued, his eyes locked on me, savoring the sight of what he was doing to me. I clenched around his fingers as I felt myself nearing the edge. He took his thumb and rubbed circles on my clit, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he said lowly, his voice a command. I tried to keep my eyes on him, but they fluttered shut as I reached my peak, screaming his name loud enough for it to echo through the car. He continued to pump his fingers inside me as I rode out my orgasm, the waves of pleasure crashing over me.

When I finally opened my eyes, they were blurred slightly, but Negan’s gaze was still intense, locked on me. He pulled his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his mouth, licking them clean, and then sucking them in, tasting my essence. “Mmm,” he moaned softly, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

“Fucking hell, Negan,” I breathed, my voice laced with raw desire. “That felt amazing.”

He smirked down at me, pride gleaming in his eyes as he watched my chest rise and fall with each ragged breath, a testament to his skill.

My hand reached back, grabbing his bulge once more, the outline of his hardness practically ready to burst through his jeans. “But now,” I said, my voice low and seductive, as I stroked his length through the fabric. He groaned deep and low, the sound vibrating through me. “I want this” I said as I looked at him with the eyes he loved, the ones he called my ‘fuck me eyes’.

Still hovering over me, my hands found his button and then his zipper, pushing them down to his thighs. I palmed his black boxers, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. “Fuck, baby,” he said, his eyes locked on me.

Negan grabbed me, pulling me up to sit and shifting me back slightly so he could sit down on the seat. He slid his pants down further, then motioned with a curled finger. “Come here, baby. Show me what that pretty little mouth of yours is good for,” he smirked.

I complied, moving to kneel beside him and bending down to grab his clothed cock once again. I reached inside and pulled it out, gasping slightly as I took hold of it. It was practically pulsating in my hand, throbbing with need. 

I leaned down and swirled my tongue around the tip, licking up the bead of precum. I licked my tongue all around the head of his cock and then slowly took him in my mouth. Negan groaned, his hand finding my hair and pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail, holding it out of my face.

I fell down and took him completely in my mouth, my eyes watering at the size. “Oh fuck, baby,” Negan said, his voice strained. I gagged slightly and pulled back up a bit, beginning to move my lips up and down his shaft, feeling each vein as I did. The sensation made me even wetter.

Negan's grip got tighter on my hair as he guided my movements, pushing my head up and down. “Fucking hell,” he groaned. “Don’t stop, baby girl,” he panted, the sound of his moans from my efforts making my core ache for him. I kept going, up and down his shaft, sucking and swirling my tongue, lost in the intensity of the moment.

I continued to bob my head up and down, my lips and tongue working in perfect harmony, drawing out deep, guttural moans from Negan. The taste of him, the feel of his hardness in my mouth, and the sound of his pleasure spurred me on, making me wetter with each passing second.

Negan's grip on my hair tightened, his hips beginning to thrust up to meet my movements. “Fuck, baby,” he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire. “You’re so good at this. So fucking good.”

I could feel him getting closer, his cock throbbing in my mouth, but then he pulled me off with a firm but gentle grip on my hair. “Not yet, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I want to be feel you first.”

He reached down, his fingers finding my wetness once, and he groaned at how ready I was for him. “You’re dripping,” he murmured, his fingers sliding in and out of me with ease. “I need to be inside you. Now.” He slid my underwear down my legs, and threw them so somewhere in the car.

Negan grabbed hold of me, pulling me onto his lap, my knees either side of him, straddling him. He positioned himself at my entrance, and I slowly lowered myself onto him, both of us moaning as I took him in, inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming, his hardness filling me completely.

His hands gripped my hips tightly, guiding my movements as I began to ride him, moving up and down with a rhythm that built with each thrust. I placed my hands on his shoulders, steadying myself, and crashed my lips onto his in a hot, hungry kiss. He kissed me back fiercely, his tongue exploring my mouth with the same intensity as his body claimed mine.

I moaned into his kiss, the sound vibrating through both of us as I continued to bounce up and down on him. His grip on my hips was firm, almost bruising, as he helped guide the movements of my thrusts, matching my pace and driving us both closer to the edge.

When I pulled back from the kiss, our foreheads rested against each other, our breaths mingling. “I love you so much,” I moaned, the words laced with raw emotion. “I love you too, baby,” he panted, his voice hoarse with desire and devotion. The intensity of our connection was evident, the love and lust intertwining in a way that left us both breathless and aching for more.

I continued to ride him, my movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, building to a peak that threatened to consume me. Negan's hands on my hips guided me, his fingers digging into my flesh, urging me on.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice a low rumble. “You feel so good. So tight. So perfect.”

I leaned back slightly, changing the angle, and he groaned louder, his eyes rolling back slightly. The new position hit a spot inside me that sent electric shocks of pleasure through my body, making me gasp and moan louder.

“Negan,” I cried out, my voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. “I’m so close. I can’t... I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Let go, baby,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Cum for me. Let me feel you come all over my cock.”

His words, his tone, the intensity in his eyes it all pushed me over the edge. I came hard, my body convulsing around him, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that left me breathless and shaking. I cried out his name, my voice echoing through the car, my nails digging into his shoulders as I rode out the waves of pleasure.

Negan’s grip on my hips tightened, his movements becoming more erratic, more urgent, as he chased his release. With each thrust, he drove deeper, his body tensing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

With a final, deep thrust, he lifted me off him, his strong hands guiding me down to the floor of the car, into the footwell. I landed on my knees, my body still trembling with the aftershocks of my own orgasm. Without hesitation, I took him into my mouth, my lips wrapping around his length, my tongue swirling around the sensitive head.

Negan’s hands found their way to my hair, his fingers tangling in the strands, as I felt him twitch and pulse in my mouth,“Oh fucking hell, baby, fuck,” he moaned, his voice a mix of pleasure and release, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his, as I swallowed, my throat working to take in every last drop of him. A soft, satisfied smile played on my lips, knowing that I had brought him to such heights of pleasure.

“Good girl,” he cooed, his voice soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. He ran his hands through my hair, his touch soothing and tender.

I pulled my lips off of him, his eyes still on mine. His hand slid from my hair down to my chin, fingers curling around it with a slow, deliberate gentleness. His thumb stroked across my cheek, then traced my bottom lip, tugging it lightly into my mouth before letting it slip free.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “My good girl.”

A shiver ran through me, and I could only nod.

He guided me up carefully, lifting me off the floor with a strength that felt protective rather than forceful. He settled me onto his lap sideways, his arm wrapping around me, holding me close. His other hand drifted up and down my spine in slow, lazy strokes, grounding me even as my pulse still raced.

“Fuck… I needed that,” I breathed, a shaky smile tugging at my lips as I rested my forehead against his.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest, warm against me. “So did I, babygirl,” he murmured, tilting his head to press a gentle, lingering kiss to my mouth a kiss that felt like gratitude, want, and something deeper all tangled together. 

We stayed there a little longer, wrapped up in the kind of quiet that only happens when every wall has finally dropped no fronts, no expectations, just the warmth of him beneath me and the steady rise and fall of his breath. 

Eventually, I exhaled softly against his cheek.  “Suppose we should get back now,” I murmured. “People are probably wondering where we are. I radioed Simon before we left Hilltop told him we were on our way back to the Sanctuary.”

He smirked, brushing his thumb over my hip.  “Oh, sweetheart… Simon knows damn well we’ve been apart for a couple days. And since we’re terrible at hidin’ our feelings? Yeah. He’s probably got a pretty solid guess what slowed us down.”

I snorted, and he lifted a brow, amused. “But,” he added, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, “if he asks why we were late… I’m tellin’ him we hit very important road conditions.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Road conditions?”

He nodded solemnly or as solemnly as Negan could manage. “Yep. Hazardous. Sudden. Completely unavoidable. Real serious shit.”

He dipped his head, lips brushing mine in a quick, teasing kiss. “’Specially the part where you climbed into my lap and damn near made me forget what a road even is.”

I rolled my eyes, heat creeping up my neck despite myself. “Negan”

“What?” He grinned. “It’s the truth. And if Simon’s got a problem with it, he can kiss my beautifully delayed ass.”

He squeezed my waist gently. “C’mon, babygirl. Let’s get back before they send a search party.”

I eased off his lap, legs still a little shaky, and started pulling myself together. Bra first, then my shirt, tugged down over skin that still felt hot from his hands. Negan dressed too, slower, watching me like he wasn’t quite done with me yet.

“Fucking hell, where did my underwear end up?” I said, scanning the floor of the truck.

Negan let out a low, wicked chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart… after the way you climbed me? Those panties didn’t stand a chance.”

I turned and found him already reaching under the seat, two fingers hooking the fabric. He dangled them with a smirk that made warmth rush back through me. “Next time,” he murmured, “you might wanna just save yourself the trouble and not bother wearin’ any.”

I snatched the underwear out of his hand with a glare I didn’t really mean, because the moment our eyes met, the irritation cracked and we both laughed under our breath. 

I slipped them on, then pulled up my jeans, buckled my weapons belt, and tightened my boots. While I finished dressing, Negan opened the door, climbed out, and slid back into the driver’s seat like nothing had happened except the smirk on his face said everything.

I shrugged into my leather jacket, fingers shaking just a little, then crawled between the seats to settle into the passenger side. As soon as I sat down, Negan reached over, cupping my cheek with a touch far softer than a man like him should ever be capable of. He pulled me into one last kiss slow, warm, grounding. A quiet promise.

When he pulled back, he gave me a smile that hit me straight in the chest, then shifted the truck into gear.

The engine growled as we rolled back onto the road, gravel crackling under the tires. The windows were still fogged at the edges, the air thick with heat and the ghost of our breaths. I leaned back, exhaling for what felt like the first time in minutes.

Without looking away from the road, Negan reached his hand out.

I slid my fingers into his immediately, our hands fitting together like they’d been waiting for it. His thumb brushed slow circles across my skin, steady and sure, anchoring me as the world outside the truck blurred by.

We drove in silence for a while, then Negan let out a low breath, half a laugh, half something thoughtful.

“You know…” he drawled, glancing over at me with a softer smirk, “if that was what bein’ scared of losin’ me looks like… I might need to almost die more often.”

I shot him a look. “Negan.”

“Hey,” he lifted our joined hands, kissing the back of mine gently, “I’m kiddin’, sweetheart. Mostly.”

He kept his eyes on the road, voice dropping into something far more real.

“But… damn. I’ve never had someone need me like that. Want me like that… Feels pretty fucking incredible.”

My chest tightened, more emotion than breath. He squeezed my hand, that little crooked smile returning.

“And just so we’re clear… I needed you, too. Every. damn. second.”

The warmth of his words settled deep and steady in my chest the kind of feeling that didn’t fade, didn’t shake loose, didn’t scare me anymore.

The closer the Sanctuary came into view, the more that humming certainty settled into Negan he wasn’t hiding anything anymore. And he didn’t plan to.

The gates opened as the truck rolled in, Saviors gathering instinctively. Simon stood up front, arms crossed. And beside him, half a step back, was Laura sharp-eyed, calm, and instantly searching for me the second she saw the truck.

Negan parked and he turned to me, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, and murmured, “Ready?”

I nodded. He didn’t even wait a second.

He got out, walked around to my side, opened my door himself, and offered his hand to help me down. When I stepped into the light, he wrapped his arm tight around my waist.

Unmistakable. Unapologetic. Claiming, but also like I belonged right there with him.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Simon blinked. “Well, shit… look who finally decided to come home.” His eyes fell to where Negan’s hand rested on my waist. “And look who ain’t hidin’ a damn thing anymore.”

Before Negan could answer, I felt a shift.

Laura a slow, knowing smile tugged at her lips. Her gaze flicked from the arm around my waist, to my face, and then back to Negan. Her brows rose in a silent, And in that tiny nod she gave me warm, supportive, proud. She’d been the first friend I made here, the one who believed in me early on, and she understood instantly what this moment meant.

Negan didn’t smirk or crack a joke. Not yet.

Instead, he pulled me closer, my back snug against his torso, voice carrying across the courtyard. “Yeah, Simon. You’re seein’ this right. Not a secret. Not anymore.”

Whispers rippled through the gathered Saviors.

Simon let out a low whistle. “Damn. Should’ve started a bet pool.”

Negan shot him a death glare, but his tone stayed smooth as whiskey. “Get used to it. All of ya. She’s with me, and she’s stayin’ with me.”

Laura’s grin widened, bright and mischievous. She mouthed, About time, and I almost laughed.

Negan leaned down then, voice dropping so only I could hear, warm against my skin. “Soon,” he murmured, “they’ll know the rest. That you’re not just with me… you’re runnin’ this place right beside me.”

My breath caught not in fear, but in something fierce and steady.

Laura saw it. She saw everything. And the pride in her eyes was like a hand on my shoulder, grounding me.

Simon shook his head. “Looks like changes are comin’.”

Negan flashed that unmistakable smirk. “You have no idea.”

With his arm around me firm, protective, and absolutely not letting go we walked past the stunned crowd, straight through the Sanctuary doors.

Laura fell in behind us with a knowing look, chin up like she already approved of the future.

And for the first time… the Sanctuary felt less like his domain, and more like ours.

With his arm still wrapped around me, keeping me close and steady, we didn’t pause for anyone’s chatter or gawking eyes. Simon’s words faded behind us.

Negan guided me down the familiar hallways, the echo of our footsteps a comforting rhythm. “First thing,” he murmured in my ear, voice low and private, “we get out of these clothes, wash off the day… and just breathe for a minute. Just you and me.”

I leaned into him, the familiar heat of his body easing the tension in mine. “Sounds perfect,” I whispered.

We stepped into our room, the door clicking shut behind us. Negan set Lucille down on the couch with a soft thunk, the sound strangely grounding after everything. I turned toward him, the reality of the day settling over me in a slow, warm wave.

“So… this is real now,” I said quietly, almost in awe. “Everyone here knows. Rick knows. And somehow he doesn’t hate me for it.”

Negan paused halfway through shrugging off his leather jacket, studying me with that soft, dangerous smile he saved just for me. He tossed the jacket onto the bed and closed the distance between us in a few unhurried steps.

“It’s real as hell, babygirl,” he murmured. “We’re done hidin’. No more sneakin’ around, no more pretendin’ like this ain’t what it is.” His hand slid to my waist, warm and sure. “I want every last person in this place to know you’re mine.”

He said it with pride, not possession with a tenderness that made my chest tighten and my pulse skip. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and warm as he guided me into the bathroom.

I unclipped my weapons belt and thigh holster first, setting it aside, then peeled off my boots, my jeans and my shirt. Negan turned on the shower, steam filling the glass, and then he started undressing too. Boots kicked off. Shirt pulled over his head. Pants dropped to the floor.

Fuck. I loved watching this man undress. My man.

I stepped into the shower, the first rush of hot water rolling over my skin. A moment later, Negan joined me, and immediately he pulled me back against his chest, arms wrapping around me like he needed to feel every inch of me there, alive. I melted into him, my hands sliding around his torso as the water washed us clean.

After a moment, I pulled back just enough to reach up and gently wipe away the black smear still marking his eyes. He smiled at me soft, crooked, real.

“There we go. Better,” I whispered.

He cupped the back of my head and kissed me, slow and warm, the water tracing down both our faces as our lips moved in perfect, quiet sync.

When he pulled away, he reached for the shampoo bottle, squeezed some into his hand, and began working it through my hair. His fingers kneaded my scalp, firm and careful, and my eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. My arms stayed looped around his waist, holding him close.

When I opened my eyes again, he was already looking at me with that rare smile, the one he didn’t show to anyone else. He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose while still scrubbing my hair, and I couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped me.

He guided me under the water to rinse, his fingers still massaging my scalp as the suds ran down my shoulders. I let out another small laugh, shaking my head.

He lifted my chin gently. “What’s so funny, huh?”

“Just this,” I said, smiling up at him. “Us. You. The big, bad Savior boss… standing here washing shampoo out of my hair like it’s the most normal thing in the world.”

He huffed a breath through his nose, smirking but soft.

“And I still can’t believe this is where life took me,” I continued, sliding my arms up around his neck, pulling him just a little closer. “Into your arms. Into this. With a man I never thought was capable of love, certainly not this kind of love.”

My lips hovered just a breath from his, my voice dropping to a tender whisper.

“But here we are. And I couldn’t be happier. For the first time in a long damn time… I feel like there’s more to live for. More to fight for. You. Us. A future with the communities. Something real.”

Negan’s expression shifted the second the words left my mouth, water streamed down his face, but it couldn’t hide the way his eyes softened, warmed, deepened.

He lifted one hand to my cheek, thumb brushing over my skin with a gentleness that would’ve shocked anyone who’d ever feared him.

“Y’know,” he said quietly, voice rough in a way that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with emotion, “I spent a long damn time thinkin’ I didn’t get shit like this. Not anymore. Not after everything I did. Not after everything I lost.”

He leaned his forehead against mine, his breath warm on my lips.

“But you…” His voice cracked just a little. “You walked into my life swingin’ fire and stubbornness and actin’ like you hated my guts and somehow you still fucking saw me. The real me. Not the mask. Not the monster. Just… me.”

His hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me close like he was afraid I’d fade away with the steam.

“And now you’re standin’ here,” he whispered, “sayin’ you love me, sayin’ you want a future with me… hell, sweetheart, that’s more than I ever thought I’d get in this busted world.”

I slid my hands down his shoulders, slow and deliberate, until they rested over his heart. “Negan…” I breathed, “When I got here, I saw the worst parts first the parts you showed the world because you were scared there was nothing else left.”

His jaw tensed, like the words cut deeper than he expected.

I kept going, my thumbs brushing the water from his skin. “But then I saw the man underneath. The protector. The leader. The one who carries everyone else’s weight whether he admits it or not. And yeah… the stubborn jackass who flirted at me until I wanted to scream.”

A soft, broken laugh escaped him.

I stepped closer, pressing my body to his, letting the water run down both of us in one warm, shivering stream.

“And I fell in love with that man,” I whispered. “Not the fear. Not the mask. You. The version of you that tries so damn hard, even when you don’t think anyone notices. The version that loves so fiercely it scares the hell out of me.”

His hand tightened at my waist, breath catching.

“So don’t you ever think you don’t deserve this,” I said, voice trembling but steady. “You do. You deserve love. You deserve a future. And I want to be the one standing beside you in it every step, every fight, every stubborn argument. All of it.”

Negan’s eyes glimmered not just from the shower spray.

“Sweetheart…” he whispered, his voice cracking in a way I had never heard from him, not once. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me talkin’ like that.”

“Not planning on it,” I murmured. “Kinda want to keep you around.”

A laugh broke out of him soft, breathless, real. He wrapped both arms around me, lifting me slightly off the ground as he buried his face in my neck.

“Good,” he said, voice gravelly against my skin. “Because I’m yours, Mae. Completely. And I ain’t goin’ anywhere you’re it for me, you’re the one thing in this world that makes me think I can be more than what I was. And I ain’t lettin’ go of that. Not now. Not ever.”

He set me back down gently, his hands cradling my face, his thumbs sweeping across my cheekbones as if committing every detail to memory.

“Fuck,” he murmured, almost reverent, “how the hell did I get this lucky?” He pulled me into a kiss so soft it made my knees weaken, his lips warm against mine as the steam curled around us. I melted into him without a single thought fighting it.

We finished washing, Negan taking his time washing me, his hands gentle and his  movements were careful, brushing kisses over my skin as if every inch mattered. When he finally shut off the water, he stepped out first and grabbed a towel. He wrapped it around me before himself, like I was the one who needed protecting from the cold.

A shiver ran through me anyway, and immediately his arms came around my back, pulling me into the heat of his chest.

“Come on,” he murmured against my temple. “Let’s get you dressed.”

We padded into the bedroom, still damp, still wrapped in the quiet hum of what had just happened. He dug through the closet while I reached for one of his white shirts soft, worn, smelling like him.

I pulled it over my head, swallowed up by it, It hung crooked on me, so I gathered a handful of fabric at my waist and tied it into a loose knot, letting it sit snugger against my body. When I looked up, he was already staring, that slow, unguarded smile spreading across his face like he hadn’t even tried to hide it.

He chuckled, standing there in just his pants, bare chest still dripping. “Shit… I forgot about this.”

He reached into the corner and pulled out the record player and the stack of vinyl from that night. The night everything changed. The ones I picked out. The one I wanted.

“I was supposed to give this to you the night you moved in,” he said, smirking. “Guess we got a little distracted, though.”

“We sure did,” I laughed.

He carried it over to the cabinet and set it down, running his fingers along the edge.

“Fuck yes,” he said, that arrogant, wicked grin spreading slow across his face. “This little vintage beauty? Soon as it starts spin-nin’, I’m puttin’ you on your back and makin’ damn sure you’re moanin’ louder than the music.” 

I shoved his chest, laughing even as heat shot straight through me. “Negan!”

He caught my waist before I could take a step, dragging me flush against him, eyes dark and amused.

“What?” he smirked. “You know every word of that was true. And I’m gonna enjoy provin’ it to you… nice and slow. Deep. Just the way you melt for me.”

My breath caught, and he leaned in even closer, his nose brushing my cheek, voice dropping to that sinful whisper he only used when he wanted my knees weak.

“And the best part?” he murmured. “You’re gonna love every damn second of it.”

I swallowed, heat curling low. “Yeah,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. “I know I will.”

He kissed me once more slow, claiming before he exhaled against my mouth, reluctantly pulling back. His grin shifted, still cocky, but softened at the edges by something warmer.

“Suppose it’s time we get back to our jobs, hey?” he said, though he didn’t let go.

“Mmm… suppose you’re right,” I teased. “Guess I can’t call you boss anymore, if I’m leading with you.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmmm… might have to think this through again,” he murmured. “Because I like when you call me boss. Means you know who takes control.” His lips brushed my ear, voice dipping. “And in that bed? Baby girl, I’m the one in charge of you… every damn inch.”

He lifted me easily, my legs wrapping around him. “You’re mine. All mine.”

Find other parts here

The day dragged on, heavy and slow, running on too little sleep and too many thoughts I couldn’t quiet. My conversation with Rick still sat on my chest like a weight I couldn’t shift. But somewhere beneath it, there was… relief.

He’d listened. Really listened. He knew now that what I felt for Negan wasn’t manipulation or confusion, it was real. Deep. Messy. Mine.

He still didn’t like it, that much was clear, but I could see it in his eyes this morning, just the smallest crack in his wall. Maybe he was starting to understand. Maybe, like he said my dad would’ve wanted, he just wanted me safe… and maybe even happy.

There wasn’t much left to do at Hilltop. Everything was ready supply runs done, escape routes planned, every wall checked twice. All that was left was waiting, and waiting was always worse.

I tried to stay busy, helping where I could, but my mind kept drifting. I found myself talking with Jesus for a while, he had this calm way of listening without prying, and it helped more than I’d admit.

Then my radio crackled against my hip, sharp and sudden. My stomach dropped.

But it wasn’t his voice. It was Simon’s. “Mae, you there?”

I pressed the button, forcing my voice steady. “I’m here, Simon.”

His tone came through light, teasing, but with that edge that always made me uneasy. “Well, look who’s still breathin’. How’s the mission? You and the big man keepin’ outta trouble?”

“Yeah,” I said, hesitating for a second. “I’m fine. But Negan’s gone out alone. Last minute change to the plan. He thought it’d be safer that way.”

There was a pause the sound of static and then a low chuckle. “That so? Huh. Guess that means you’re in charge for now, boss lady.”

“Hardly,” I muttered.

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short,” Simon said, his tone dripping with mock charm. “We finished wiring up the other truck with those speakers you wanted. We’ll send it your way soon. Should make one hell of a show when the time comes.”

“Good,” I said, keeping it short. “Once Negan checks in tonight, I’ll update you on where we stand, how close he’s getting to Alpha.”

“Copy that,” Simon replied. “Just… keep your head down, huh? Wouldn’t wanna tell the boss his favorite girl got herself in trouble.”

His laugh lingered a second too long before the line went dead.

I stared at the radio, jaw tight. The way he said it favorite girl made my stomach twist. I shoved the radio back on my belt and exhaled slowly. The sun was setting outside the gates, and every second that passed without Negan’s voice made the air feel heavier.

Night settled over Hilltop like a thick, wet blanket,  the kind that swallows sound and light and thought. I sat hunched by the wall, radio in hand, pretending to study the maps spread out before me, but my eyes kept sliding off the paper. Every shadow beyond the fence made me flinch, every gust of wind sounded like static and danger.

When the radio finally cracked to life, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Static, then his voice rough, low, and unmistakably his. “Mae. You there, sweetheart?”

The breath I’d been holding all day left me in a shaky laugh. I grabbed the handset so fast my fingers trembled. “Negan, fuck, where the hell have you been? You were supposed to check in hours ago.”

“Sorry, baby,” he drawled, the weariness bleeding through even the fuzz. “Turns out Whisperer parties don’t run on any schedule. Had to improvise a bit to slip away.”

“Are you safe? You okay?” I demanded, voice thin.

“Safe,” he said. “I’m okay. Got in close with Alpha… maybe a little too close.” He let out a short laugh, trying to lighten it. “Hell, I think the woman’s got a crush on me or somethin’.”

The joke didn’t land. My stomach knotted. “Negan-” I started, but he cut me off through the static.

“Mae… I’m just messin’ with you. You’re the only one I want. Always have been, always will be. I’d never do anything to hurt you or betray you like that. You hear me? Nobody else.” His voice was low, steady, like he was anchoring her to him.

“Yeah,” I swallowed. “I know.” 

“I love you,” he said, and the line crackled with the weight of it.

“I love you too,” I answered, and the words tasted like both comfort and sorrow.

“You alright, baby? I know that voice, sounds like you’re about to break,” he said, concern threading through the radio.

I pressed the radio harder to my ear. “I had another one,” I confessed. “Another nightmare about you.”

He was quiet for a second, then: “Yeah?”

“It felt real, Negan. I watched you die. I watched them take you and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything. I woke up alone this time, not in your arms and I can’t shake how real it felt, like it’s coming.” My voice cracked on the last word.

Another long pause. When he answered, his voice was iron-soft. “Mae, listen to me. I’m right here. I’m alive. Your head’s playin’ tricks, feedin’ you the worst. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“You can’t promise that,” I whispered.

“No,” he admitted. “I can’t promise that, but I can promise, I’ll try my damn best to stay alive for you. For us.”

There was a small silence, then he shifted. “Look, I got a plan. I’m gonna finish this.” His voice tightened. “I need you to hear me.”

“You do?” I breathed.

“I do.” He inhaled, then went into it. “Alpha’s furious that Lydia got away. I used that. I put one of her own in a tight spot to make it look like she was involved, to get in close with Alpha, show my loyalty. It worked. Alpha wants Lydia back, but not ’cause she loves the kid. She wants her back to turn her into one of her herd. She wants to erase what’s human about that girl.” His words cut through me like cold.

I felt the radio grow heavy in my hand. “No,” I whispered.

“I ain’t gonna let that happen,” he said, voice hard. “So here’s the play, you remember that old cabin? The one we met at? I’m gonna make it look like I found Lydia there got her tied up, helpless. But I won’t really, It’ll draw Alpha out to that spot, where I can take her down for good.” He paused. “Problem is, Frowny Mc-two-knives he is suspicious of me. He’s not on the same page as alpha with me. I need you to pull Beta away long enough to get Alpha isolated. Distract him, keep him busy, make him think the real move’s somewhere else.”

“When do we move?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Tomorrow,” he said bluntly. “First light. I’ve been plantin’ seeds in her head all night. It has to be tomorrow.”

My chest tightened with a mixture of dread and a terrible, fierce hope. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it. I’ll keep Beta busy.”

“Good,” he said, softer now. “And Mae you keep Hilltop tight. No hero moves. You do what I tell you.”

“I’ll do it,” I answered, voice small but steady.

“Alright then,” he breathed, voice low and rough with exhaustion. “Try to get some sleep, if you can. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long one. And… if you have another bad dream, I want you to remember this, right now. This moment. Me talkin’ to you, alive, breathin’, lovin’ you through this damn radio. That’s what’s real, Mae. Not the dream. This. Me. You. Us.”

My throat tightened. “I’ll try,” I whispered, though what I really wanted was to keep him talking anything to stop the silence that would come after.

“That’s my girl,” he said softly, the faintest smile in his voice.

“Negan…” I hesitated, my voice shaking. “Please… please be careful tomorrow. If it’s too risky, pull out. Don’t try to be a hero. Just, just grab the radio and call me. I’ll get you out, I swear I will.” My breath hitched. “I can’t lose you.

He went quiet for a heartbeat, then said, steady and sure, “Always, baby. I promise, I’ll be careful. I love you so damn much. This’ll be over soon one way or another, I’ll come back to you.”

“I love you too, Negan,” I said, my voice breaking around the words. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams, darlin’,” he murmured and then the line cracked once, and went dead.

The silence that followed was deafening. I sat there with the radio still warm in my hand, staring into the dark. The night outside felt heavier somehow, sharper like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for noon.

I got up and made my way toward the main building, my mind racing with Negan’s plan. I stepped inside and immediately ran into Daryl.

“Have you seen Rick?” I asked, voice low but urgent.

“I think he’s up in the room,” Daryl replied, glancing toward the stairs.

“Okay,” I said, determination sharpening my tone. “Go round everyone up in the office. I’ve got news… and a plan.”

He just nodded, wordless but understanding, and disappeared down the hall.

I made my way up the stairs, my boots clicking softly against the wooden steps. When I reached the door, I knocked gently.

“Rick, you in there?” I called quietly.

“Uh… yeah, give me a minute,” he replied, the sound of a belt buckle clinking and quiet whispers coming from inside.

The door cracked open a little, and he peeked out, his hair tousled, shirt half-unbuttoned.

I couldn’t help it, I laughed out. “Sorry to interrupt,” I said, shaking my head, a small smile breaking through the tension.

He just shook his head, trying to force a smile back at me.

“I’ve got news on Alpha… and a plan for tomorrow,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “Meet me in the office.”

As I turned to leave, I called over my shoulder, “You too, Michonne,” knowing she was in there and that I’d interrupted something.

I laughed quietly to myself, the tension easing just a fraction, and walked briskly toward the office, my mind already running through what I would say and how we would make this plan work.

The office smelled faintly of old paper and dust. It was quite at night here almost peaceful if you didn't think about the end of the world I walked in and Daryl was in there, Jesus some hilltops leaders, then Rick and Michonne walked in 

I stood against the desk leaning all eyes were on me.

“Alright,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Here’s what we know and what we’re going to do tomorrow.”

I laid out Negan’s plan carefully, starting with Alpha’s fury over Lydia’s escape. “He’s gotten close to her,” I said, voice tight. “Close enough that she thinks he’s loyal but she doesn’t care about her daughter like a mother should. She wants Lydia back to make her one of her herd. He’s using that. He’s planning to lure Alpha to the old cabin where we met a few nights ago. She will think Lydia will be there, but she wont be, that’s the bait.”

Daryl’s jaw tightened; his knuckles whitened on the table. “You sure he can pull it off?” he asked, voice low.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, the knot in my stomach tightening. “But he has a plan. He needs Beta distracted long enough to isolate Alpha. That’s where we come in keep Beta focused somewhere else so Negan can move her to the cabin and finish it.”

Michonne’s eyes narrowed, calm but hard. “And we just trust him? After everything he’s done?”

I swallowed, the words heavy in my chest. “I know how it sounds. I know what he is what he’s done. But right now he’s our best shot. He’s risking himself for this, not just trying to score points. His life’s on the line out there to help us put an end to this.” I paused just for a moment.

“Beta’s Alpha’s shadow, loyal, relentless. Whatever we do has to be smart and surgical, one wrong move and Negan pays for it,” I said, swallowing hard.

Daryl leaned forward, fists on the table. “Then we do it clean. No mistakes. I’ll handle Beta if he comes near me.” His eyes flicked to mine, steady and sure.

Michonne crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. “We’ll need a distraction that makes him underestimate us. Subtle, but convincing.”

Rick nodded, voice low but firm. “We trust you, Mae. You’re coordinating this. But we have to plan for every possibility, worst-case scenarios. We can’t let him get pinned down.”

Jesus rubbed the back of his neck, looking thoughtful. “Mae’s right. One mistake and it’s over. Let’s make sure every angle’s covered before we move tomorrow.”

I swallowed hard, chest tightening. Their trust in me should have been reassuring, but it just made my fear pulse stronger. Negan’s life was on the line. And in my chest, a quiet, desperate part of me screamed: I can’t lose him. I won’t survive it.

I took a breath and forced myself to focus. “Alright. Here’s the breakdown. Beta will patrol the perimeter starting at first light. We’ll need to make sure he doesn't go anywhere near the cabin so we’ll need to lure him away without him realizing what we’re doing. Daryl, you and Jesus handle the distraction subtle, coordinated, and timed to the second. “Michonne, you run east choke points, Rick, take the rear.  

I set my jaw and leaned forward. “I’ll take the ridge above the cabin, and I’ll take our best shooters, we’ll keep eyes on the approach, track Negan and Alpha’s movement, and feed real-time intel. 

Their eyes flicked to me, weighing the risk.

“And if everything goes wrong?” Daryl asked, knuckles white on the table.

I met his stare. “Then I’m the one who goes in to pull him out. I’ll be the extraction. If Negan gets pinned, I’ll move fast. You give me the opening, and I’ll get him out of there.”

Michonne didn’t like it I could see the hard edge in her gaze but Rick’s hand came down on the map with quiet finality. “Alright. We cover the entry points, Daryl and Jesus run Beta, Mae coordinates the eyes and backs up extraction.” He looked around the room. “And everybody check your walkies. Batteries good, frequencies set. No one moves without a radio check.” He tapped the table once. “We move before first light. No surprises.”

Rick placed a hand on my shoulder. “We move as one. Mae, you lead this. But remember, we’re with you. Every step of the way.”

I nodded, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. “Alright. Let’s go over the timing one more time, step by step. Everyone needs to know exactly when to act and what to do if something goes wrong. No surprises.”

The room grew quiet again as we huddled over the maps, voices dropping to whispers. My stomach churned, adrenaline and fear mixing into a tight knot, but underneath it all was that tiny thread of hope. The hope that, if we did this right, Negan would come back to me.

And if he didn’t… I didn’t want to think about it

We moved like ghosts up the ridge before dawn. Jonah and Caleb fanned out, rifles leveled; Mara hunched over the radio, fingers already on the frequencies. The cabin below was a dark knot in the valleys.

I checked my gear once scope, spare rounds, the radio strapped to my belt and then looked to my team. Mara’s eyes met mine, steady. Jonah’s jaw was set. Caleb’s hands were quiet on the stock.

“Beta on schedule?” I asked.

Mara tapped the mic. “Two patrols on the north loop. He swings the logging trail in ten.”

Ten minutes. The word felt both thin and enormous.

We didn’t move. We watched. Breath low, eyes on the trees. Every snap or rustle had meaning. Below, the path to the cabin sat exposed, waiting.

“Remember the abort code,” I whispered. “If you hear ‘red cross’ pull back now. If I call ‘pull’ extract immediately. No hero moves.”

Jonah and Caleb nodded. Mara’s fingers hovered over the transmitter like a heartbeat.

The valley held its breath with us. The sky blued. My throat tightened, but I kept my voice steady. “Daryl and Jesus are in position for the diversion. You wait for my mark. On my mark, you radio to them to fire the decoy, make it loud and ugly. Then Daryl moves left, Jesus circles. Stick to the windows we scoped no unnecessary shots.”

They were waiting on me every man alert, every eye flicking to me for the go. It felt like standing between two worlds: the calm of the ridge and the chaos I’d ordered into motion.

Mara keyed the radio and reported, low: “Beta two minutes.”

I fiddled with the radio mic, thumb against the cold plastic, and found Negan’s voice in my head again. I whispered to myself like a prayer or a command, Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me.

“Hold,” I breathed. “Hold until I say.”

They held. The world narrowed to a line of trees and a single, terrible choice.

Beta’s patrol edged into view first a dark ripple through the trees, methodical, scanning. Mara’s whisper came over the radio “Beta and two others, moving left to right. He’s crossing the logging trail now.”

“Copy,” I breathed. Jonah and Caleb flattened lower, breaths barely a sound. Every second pulled taut like a wire.

I whispered into the radio, “Daryl.Now.” There was a crackle, then the speakers down below roared to life, the staged raid screaming through the valley, shouts, crashing metal, the pretend chaos we’d spent the last day making look real. It was ugly, loud, exactly what we’d planned.

Beta snapped. He turned like a hound on a scent and sprinted toward the noise with two men on his heels, boots thudding through brush. Mara keyed in a soft update: “Beta’s running to decoy, full commitment.” Jonah’s finger hovered near the trigger but the order was still mine. We watched them pour toward Daryl’s trap, silhouettes vanishing into the disturbance.

For what felt like an eternity, we waited, frozen on the ridge. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the brush made my stomach clench, my heart hammering like a drum against my ribs. Time slowed to a crawl. I swallowed, fingers tightening on the scope, willing the world to hold still. just a little longer…

The cabin’s path lay exposed now, the clearing unguarded where Negan was supposed to make his move. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t breathe, and a cold knot of dread settled low in my gut. I tried to steady myself, to remind myself this was the plan, that he knew what he was doing, but it didn’t help.

Then, movement. Just a shadow at first, sliding along the far trail. My breath caught in my throat. Two shapes. My heart lurched recognition before even seeing clearly.

Negan stepped into the light first. He moved slow, deliberate, but every step made my chest constrict like I could feel him walking straight into danger. A Whisperer mask covered his face, but I knew it was him the moment I saw the familiar tilt of his head, the way he carried himself. The leather jacket was draped over his shoulders, Lucille strapped across his back, a shadow of menace and mischief wrapped together.

There was a cocky ease to him, just enough that it made Alpha pause, unsure. He let the mask hide his smirk, but I could see it in the way he tilted his head, the sway in his step, that signature bravado that made him dangerous and infuriating all at once. His gait was steady, each movement deliberate, confident, like he knew the game and wasn’t about to let her see him sweat.

And then Alpha, impossibly close behind him. She moved like a predator, silent and gliding, her mask half-catching the dawn. Her eyes were sharp, unreadable, and in that instant it felt like the world had collapsed around me.

Everything narrowed to them, just two figures in that small, pale clearing. My hands shook, breath shallow. Fear clawed through me, icy and raw. I could see the danger in every line of their bodies, and the thought of him being that close, so exposed… it nearly stole my voice.

I pressed my forehead against the scope, trying to focus, trying to be the calm in the storm. But inside, my heart was screaming. Please… come back to me…

I held my breath, every muscle frozen, as Negan led Alpha toward the cabin. The mask hid most of his face, but the cocky tilt of his head, it was unmistakably him. Alpha followed, tense, scanning the clearing like a predator unsure of her prey.

I pressed my hands tighter against the scope, Jonah and Caleb tense at my side, waiting to move if they needed to. My heart hammered, every nerve screaming. This was it the moment that would decide everything.

Negan reached the cabin first, then paused just behind Alpha. He gestured subtly, letting her think she was in control. Alpha stepped forward, first one foot, then the other, toward the door. She lifted her hand, twisted the handle, and swung it open. Her eyes narrowed instantly, the cabin was empty. Lydia wasn’t there.

For a heartbeat, she froze, rage flashing in her eyes, scanning the shadows. And then, in a single, horrifying motion, Negan moved. He was behind her before she could react, his leather-clad hand steady. Lucille remained slung across his back, but his other hand quick, precise came up. The blade flashed, and her throat was slit, clean and fast, blood gushing out of her. 

My stomach dropped. I felt bile rise, and my hands shook so violently I had to clamp them to the scope just to keep from screaming. Jonah and Caleb were tense, holding their breath, watching as the scene unfolded.

Negan stepped back, pulling the knife away. The cocky ease, the bravado he’d carried up until now, was gone. His movements were precise, controlled, deliberate. The teasing tilt of his head, the smirk behind the mask all gone. Slowly, he pulled the mask up, revealing his face. This was the weight of what he’d just done  final, deadly, and real.

I pressed my forehead to my hands, tears stinging my eyes, chest tight. My voice cracked as I grabbed the radio. “He… he did it,” I whispered to the others, heart hammering. “Alpha… she’s dead.”

My eyes stayed locked on the clearing, watching him move through the cabin, Lucille slung across his back, his every motion sharp, silent, and precise. The cocky swagger was gone replaced with a deadly calm that made my stomach twist.

Relief slammed into me, unsteady and overwhelming. Alpha was gone. Lydia was safe. Negan had survived. I whispered again, just to myself, letting the words feel real He did it. He’s alive.

Then the radio crackled, a familiar drawl breaking through the static. “Baby… you there?”

“I’m here,” I said, voice trembling.

“It’s done. It’s over. She’s dead,” he said.

“I know, babe. I watched… I had my eyes on you, making sure you were safe,” I said, my words rushed and uneven.

“Guardian angel, huh?” he said, and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

“Now get out of there before Beta comes back. Meet me at Hilltop,” I added, urgency creeping in, my fingers tightening on the radio.

Negan’s voice softened, low and steady. “I’m on it, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

I exhaled shakily, heart still hammering, and watched the clearing, every nerve on edge until he was safely out of sight. Then, and only then, did I allow myself to let a few tears fall, the adrenaline slowly ebbing, and the relief finally settling like a weight off my chest.

I took a shaky breath, still gripping the radio, and looked at Jonah and Caleb. “Alright. Let’s move. Quietly. Fast.”

“I’ll hang back,” Jonah said, voice low. “If Beta comes sniffing around and sees Alpha…”

I nodded, understanding the weight of every second. We slipped down the ridge, feet soft on the forest floor, shadows among shadows. The clearing behind us seemed impossibly far away, and yet I kept looking back, half-expecting Beta to appear, his hulking silhouette emerging from the trees.

The trek back to Hilltop was tense and silent, the kind of silence that screamed louder than any gunfire. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, made my stomach jump. Caleb led the way, I stayed close to the path, heart hammering, mind racing with every possible thing that could go wrong.

Finally, the familiar shapes of Hilltop rose ahead, the fences and walls a small comfort against the weight of the world outside. My hands shook as I reached for the radio. “Negan… we’re almost there. You holding up?”

“Always, baby,” his voice came steady, calm, but I could hear the weariness underneath. “I’ll be waiting.”

I swallowed, trying to steady my nerves. “Good. Because I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

The early morning light did little to ease my tension, every shadow seemed alive. And then I saw him Negan, standing just outside the main gate, Lucille slung across his back, jacket streaked with dirt and blood from the mission. Relief hit me like a tidal wave, so intense I almost stumbled forward.

I broke into a run, my chest hammering so hard it felt like it might tear itself apart. Every step was fueled by fear and relief, adrenaline and longing all at once. Negan’s eyes widened for just a split second as I closed the distance, and then I launched myself into his arms. He caught me effortlessly, lifting me off the ground, holding me so tight it felt like the weight of every terrifying moment was being pressed away. I wrapped my legs around him, clinging to him like he was the only anchor left in the world.

“You’re never leaving again,” I whispered fiercely, tears spilling down my cheeks, my voice raw with every ounce of fear and relief I’d carried through the mission.

“I’m here, baby,” he murmured, arms tightening around me, his warmth and strength anchoring me. “I told you I’d be okay.”

I pulled back just enough to crash my lips against his, hands threading into the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He shifted, gently putting me down just enough to deepen the kiss, hands roaming, pulling me impossibly closer. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, the way only he could do, and for a heartbeat the world outside the walls didn’t exist.

When I finally broke away, I pressed my forehead against his, shivering, letting the tension, the fear, the adrenaline, and the terror of what we’d just survived pour out in shudders and quiet, broken sobs. “I thought I was going to lose you,” I admitted, voice barely more than a whisper.

“You didn’t,” he said softly, brushing a trembling hand through my hair, steadying me, grounding me. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

We stayed like that for a long, suspended moment, caught in the early morning light at the gate. Hilltop around us felt quiet and fragile, like the world itself was holding its breath. The danger beyond the walls could wait. The war could wait. For now, he was alive, here in my arms, and nothing else mattered. Nothing at all.

He stroked my hair softly, resting his chin on the top of my head. His other hand moved slowly up and down my back, steady and comforting, like he was trying to remind me I was safe now. “I love you so much,” he whispered, voice low and rough as he pressed a gentle kiss to my hair.

I pulled back just enough to look up at him. Those hazel eyes, the ones I could drown in met mine. They looked darker now, the edges smudged with fatigue and shadow, probably from the Whisperer mask. But even beneath all that, they were still his. Still Negan.

His hand came up to my cheek, warm and calloused, and I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes for a moment as his thumb brushed against my skin. His fingers traced lightly along my neck, and for the first time in days, everything stilled. I felt safe. Warm. Protected. Like the chaos outside couldn’t touch me as long as he was here. That’s why I fell in love with him, because even in a world falling apart, he made it feel whole.

When I opened my eyes again, he was already watching me. Our gazes locked, steady and sure. “I love you too,” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His hand stayed on my cheek as he drew me in, his lips finding mine. The kiss was deep and lingering the kind that carried everything we’d been through, everything we’d almost lost, and everything we still had left. Passionate, desperate, and tender all at once. The kind of kiss that said more than words ever could.

The crackle of the radio on my belt broke through the haze of the moment. Negan reached down without missing a beat, still kissing me, his hand brushing my hip as he unhooked it. He finally pulled back, a small grin tugging at his lips as he handed it to me.

“Mae, are you out? Are you safe?” Rick’s voice came through, urgent but edged with relief.

Negan drew me closer, one arm locked around my waist. I pressed the button, my voice a little breathless. “Yeah, Rick, I’m safe. I made it out, I’m back at Hilltop.”

As I spoke, Negan pressed soft kisses to my forehead, his lips warm against my skin. I looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile.

“Good,” Rick said after a pause. “We’re on our way back now. Sit tight.”

“Copy that,” I said softly, clipping the radio back to my belt before sliding my arms around Negan again.

He smirked down at me, pride gleaming in his eyes. “You did good, baby. Real good. You’re turnin’ into one hell of a leader.”

I grinned. “Damn straight I am.”

Negan chuckled, his voice low and rough. “Can’t wait to have you standin’ beside me back at the Sanctuary. That is… if you still want that.”

I looped my arms around his neck, meeting his gaze with a steady smile. “Of course I still want that,” I whispered, before pulling him into another kiss slow, certain, and full of everything we’d just fought for.

He gave a low chuckle, brushing his thumb across my jaw. “Damn right you do. Gotta say, I like the sound of us runnin’ the show together. Power couple’s got a nice ring to it, huh?”

I smirked up at him. “Power couple? Please. I’ll be runnin’ circles around you.”

He laughed, that deep rumble I’d missed so damn much. “Now that’s my girl.”

Negan pulled back slightly, his hands slipping from my waist. The sudden distance made me frown, confusion flickering across my face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked softly.

He gave a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothin’, sweetheart. Just… they’re comin’. Don’t need Rick hatin’ me any more than he already does, not when he’s walkin’ up here watchin’ me with my hands all over you.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, shaking my head. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

He smirked, stepping back just as the sound of engines and footsteps grew louder. Dust kicked up along the road leading to the gates. Rick and Michonne came into view first, moving fast, Daryl close behind with Jesus and Jonah trailing near the truck that had just rolled to a stop.

The air was thick with exhaustion and relief  everyone looked worn, wary, but alive. For a moment, no one said anything; we all just stood there, the weight of what we’d survived settling over us.

I walked straight up to Rick and wrapped my arms around him. He didn’t hesitate, he pulled me in and held on, firm and steady, like someone checking for himself that I was really there. After a moment, he eased back, his eyes searching mine.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’m good, Rick.”

He watched that smile the real one, the kind I hadn’t worn in a days and I saw the understanding settle in his eyes. He knew exactly why. Exactly who had helped put it back there.

“It’s done,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. “She’s gone. It’s just Beta, the Whisperers, and the horde now.”

“Yes it is,” Rick said, his jaw tightening with resolve.

I turned toward Jonah. “Did Beta show? Did he come back to the cabin and see Alpha’s body?”

Jonah shook his head. “No. I waited. Watched every angle. Not a damn sign of him.”

I glanced to Daryl next. “What about you? Did you see him at all?”

Daryl shook his head, crossbow resting against his shoulder. “Nah. Lost his trail same time you did. Big bastard vanished.”

My stomach tightened. “So he’s missing. We have no idea where he is… or if he knows Alpha’s dead.”

The group exchanged looks a mix of tension, unease, and the kind of dread that came from knowing Beta was out there somewhere, processing the worst news he could ever receive.

Rick stepped closer, grounding and steady as always. “Hey… it’s alright. We’ll find him. Beta can’t stay hidden forever. And when he shows himself, we’ll be ready.”

I let out a slow breath, the reassurance easing the tight coil in my chest. If Rick said it with that kind of certainty, I chose to believe him.

He gave my arm a quick squeeze, then turned toward the gate where Negan still stood just outside the entrance. Michonne moved beside him, Daryl and Jesus trailing a few steps behind, Jonah closing the line.

As they approached, Negan shifted slightly not stepping back, not posturing, just… waiting. Ready for whatever reaction would come.

Rick didn’t stop walking.

He didn’t speak.

But as he passed us, his eyes met Negan’s for a brief second, and he gave a single, solid nod.

No hostility. No gratitude spoken aloud. Just… acknowledgment. A quiet thanks wrapped in a truce neither of them wanted to talk about.

Negan didn’t smirk or throw out some smart-ass line he only dipped his chin in return, subtle, respectful, restrained in a way only I ever got to see.

A moment between two men who had every reason to hate each other… yet still found a way to meet in the middle, if only for a breath.

Rick moved on through the gate, not looking back. 

And then it was just me and Negan again, the morning quiet settling around us, the world feeling a little safer and yet raw the weight of everything we’d survived still heavy in the air… but lighter than before.

As soon as the last of them disappeared through the gate, Negan glanced toward the guards on the wall, then back at me. His mouth curved into that slow, dangerous smirk  the one he only ever let slip when no one else was watching.

He reached out, hooked two fingers into the belt loop of my jeans, and tugged me right back into his chest.

“Now that we don’t have an audience…” he said, leaning down to brush his lips over mine in a kiss that was soft at first then deepened, warm and claiming. His hand slid up my spine, holding me there like he was making up for every second we’d been apart.

He pulled back just enough for his breath to tickle my mouth.

“So,” he murmured, eyes dark with mischief, “how ’bout we head back to the Sanctuary…  and you show me exactly how much you missed me?”

I let out a breathless laugh and shoved his shoulder lightly. “Negan.”

He only smirked wider, stepping closer, arms wrapping around my waist.

“What? I’m just sayin’ purely for morale reasons.”

I laughed again, shaking my head, cheeks warm. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you,” he drawled, lowering his forehead to mine, “are stuck with me, baby. Forever”

Negan and I walked into Hilltop side by side, the early morning light washing over the courtyard as the others gathered their things. The air buzzed with quiet urgency everyone already shifting into their next mission, the next steps in taking down the horde.

Rick was talking with Michonne and Daryl near the wagons; Jesus and Jonah checked supplies and horses. They all looked tired, worn, but more hopeful than they had in weeks.

As soon as they noticed us, the conversations softened.

It was time for goodbyes. For now.

Michonne stepped forward first. “We’ll regroup after everyone checks in with their people,” she said, voice steady. “And then we start planning how to deal with that horde.”

I nodded. “Yeah. This isn’t over. But… thank you. All of you.”

Jesus gave me a gentle smile and pulled me into a brief hug. “You did good today. Really good.”

Jonah clapped my shoulder once, warm and steady. “Proud of you, Mae.”

Daryl gave a small nod subtle, but carrying more than words. “Keep your head straight. We’ll be ready when it’s time.”

One by one, they drifted away toward the gates… until only Rick remained, hands on his hips, watching me with that thoughtful, almost protective look he got sometimes.

I stepped closer. “Gonna head back to Alexandria?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Folks need to know what happened. Need to know we’ve got a shot now.”

I started to smile, but Rick suddenly stepped forward and gently took my elbow. “Walk with me a second,” he said quietly.

He guided me a few steps away, far enough that Negan, who was leaning against a post, pretending not to eavesdrop couldn’t hear a word.

Rick lowered his voice. “Mae… listen.”

My chest tightened. Rick Grimes didn’t do quiet unless it mattered.

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “The way you handled today… the way you led… you did good. Real good.”

Emotion stung my eyes. “Thank you, Rick.”

He nodded once, slow. Then he exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping before lifting to meet mine again.

“There’s just one thing I gotta tell you.”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

Rick’s voice softened to something fatherly steady, honest, gentler than I expected.

“Be careful with him,” he murmured.His jaw flexed. “Not because I think you cant handle your own, but because you care about him. Deep. And when you care like that, you start makin’ choices with your heart instead of your head.”

My breath caught, not from anger from how damn true it was.

Rick continued, “You got a good head on your shoulders. Strong. Don’t lose that. Don’t lose yourself tryin’ to carry him.”

I blinked hard, nodding slowly. “I won’t. I promise.”

Rick squeezed my shoulder once, firm and warm. “Good. ’Cause we’re gonna need you. All of you.”

He turned then, stepping back toward the others.

When Rick was far enough away, Negan pushed off the post and sauntered over to me, eyebrows raised. “Man pulls ya aside like a dad with a shotgun. That good or bad for me?”

I smiled, bumping his shoulder lightly. “Depends on how well you behave.”

Negan laughed under his breath and slipped an arm around my waist as the last of the group disappeared through the gates.

Once everyone had got in their vehicles and started down their own roads, all splintering off to spread the news and prepare for what came next, I felt the quiet settle in. The kind that comes only after chaos. The kind that feels almost wrong because it’s too still.

Negan turned to me, a small, easy smile on his face, and held out his hand. “Shall we head back home?” he asked, his voice low, warm.

I looked up at him, letting a small smile tug at my lips, and slipped my hand into his. “Yeah,” I said softly. “Let’s go home.”

Find other parts here

As we reached the gates of Hilltop, the guards spotted us through the dim light and immediately signaled. The creak of the old wood echoed as the doors swung open, spilling the faint glow of torches across the ground. I felt the tension in my shoulders loosen just a fraction, not relief, exactly, but the kind of exhaustion that comes when you’ve finally made it somewhere safe.

We stepped through, boots crunching on the gravel path. Daryl was the first to see us. He strode over, eyes sharp, scanning Lydia, then me. “What happened? Why’s she back here?” he asked, his tone edged with concern and that familiar suspicion that never really left him.

Before I could answer, Lydia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. The gesture caught him off guard, but after a beat, his hand came up to rest on her shoulder. That was Daryl rough on the outside, all heart underneath.

Rick and Michonne were close behind, both of them reading the situation before I could even open my mouth. “Negan told me to bring her back,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “Said it was too dangerous for her to stay there. Told me to hide her.”

Rick’s eyes narrowed slightly, calculating. “Everything go alright? He got any intel? When’s he moving?”

I nodded, though my throat felt tight. “Yeah… he’s got a plan. Says he’s going to get in closer, use Lydia getting away to his advantage. Set someone up, make it look clean.” The words came out almost mechanical, facts I’d memorized to keep from thinking about how close he was to all of it.

I exhaled, the sound shaky in the quiet. “Check-ins are over the radio from now on,” I added, trying to sound businesslike but failing.

Rick’s gaze lingered. “Why?”

“Because…” I hesitated, staring down at the dirt. “He doesn’t want me out there. Said it’s too dangerous for me.” I tried to keep my voice even, but the tremor gave me away. The silence that followed was heavy, everyone could hear what I wasn’t saying.

I felt the words crack somewhere deep inside, and I knew everyone heard it, especially Michonne.

Her expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through her eyes. But it wasn’t just sympathy. It was the kind of look that said Rick told me everything. And in that moment, standing there under the flickering light, surrounded by people who could see right through me, I felt completely exposed torn between love, loyalty, and the weight of the war we were still trying to survive.

Finally, I cleared my throat and looked up at Rick. “So… can I have the radio?”

He studied me for a long moment, eyes narrowing just slightly. Then, without a word, he unlatched it from his belt the small motion sharp in the quiet  and handed it over.

The group slowly started to scatter again. Rick went to check the guards, Daryl led Lydia toward the main building to find her a place to rest. The noise of boots and murmured conversation filled the air again, but it all felt far away.

When I finally looked up, Michonne was still there. Arms folded, eyes steady. She didn’t speak right away, she didn’t have to. That kind of silence carried its own weight.

“You know he’s right,” she said at last, voice low. “You shouldn’t be out there. It’s too dangerous.”

I swallowed, already bracing for the second half the but.  Sure enough, she tilted her head slightly. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like why he’s the one saying it.”

I exhaled, heavy. “He told you,” I said, almost a whisper.

Michonne didn’t answer right away, she didn’t have to. The look in her eyes told me enough.

I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to swallow the lump building in my throat. “Michonne, please… not right now.” My voice cracked before I could stop it. “This day, this week,  it’s already been too damn much. I can’t have this conversation with anyone else.”

Her expression softened, just barely. The kind of softness that came from someone who’d been there before who understood too well what breaking looked like.

“Mae…” she started, her voice low but steady. “I’m not trying to come down on you. I’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt. You and Rick both.”

I shook my head, staring at the dirt. “I know. But right now I just need” My words stumbled over themselves, emotion catching in my chest. “I just need one person not to look at me like I’m a mistake waiting to happen.”

Michonne let out a slow breath, her shoulders easing. She glanced away for a second, then back at me. “Alright,” she said finally, quieter now. “No lectures. Not tonight.”

Relief and guilt hit me at the same time.

She reached out, briefly resting a hand on my shoulder solid, grounding. “Just… be smart, Mae. Don’t let what you feel for him make you forget who you are.”

I nodded, eyes stinging. “I won’t.”

Michonne studied me for another moment, like she wanted to say more, then just nodded once and walked off toward Rick.

When she was gone, I stayed there under the flickering light, my chest still tight, the night pressing close around me.

I’d promised to be smart. But love and survival never played by the same rules.

That night, sleep didn’t come easy. When it finally did, it didn’t feel like rest, it felt like falling.

At first it was just noise, whispers threading through the dark, soft and shapeless, curling around my name. I turned toward the sound, and the air grew thick, damp the forest pressing in from all sides. Moonlight cut through the trees in pale slivers, and the smell of decay clung to everything.

Then I saw them. The Whisperers. Moving through the fog like shadows that had learned how to walk. Their masks slick with blood and earth, their eyes hollow behind the skin. And among them taller, broader, Lucille slung across his back, Negan.

For a moment my heart lifted, thinking maybe he was undercover again, maybe this was another trick, another game he was playing for the greater good. But then I saw his face. There was no smirk. No spark. Just emptiness.

He turned his head, meeting my eyes through the haze, and something inside me cracked wide open. His expression wasn’t cruel or cunning it was defeated. Like he’d stopped fighting and just accepted the darkness crawling up his skin. I tried to call his name, but my voice came out in a rasp, swallowed by the whispers all around us. They were chanting now words I couldn’t make out, but they pulsed like a heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Negan lifted Lucille, but his hands were trembling. Alpha stepped out of the fog, knife in hand, her grin wide and sickening. She said something low to him, something that made his shoulders drop.

Then she turned and looked right at me. “You can’t save him,” she whispered, though her lips didn’t move. “You never could.”

Before I could reach him, before I could even take a step, they were on him shadows lunging out of the trees, knives glinting in the moonlight. He fought back at first, wild and furious, but there were too many. They dragged him to his knees, tore Lucille from his grasp, and for the first time since I’d known him, Negan looked really afraid.

“Stop!” I screamed, trying to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. The ground was sucking me down, mud thick around my boots, hands clawing at my ankles from beneath the soil. I could feel nails digging into my skin, pulling, holding me there while I watched.

Alpha raised her knife. Negan’s eyes found mine. There was blood on his face, streaked with dirt and moonlight. He tried to smile that broken, half-hearted grin but it faltered. “Don’t look, baby,” he said, his voice distant, echoing like it came from the bottom of a well.

Then the knife came down. It didn’t stop the first time, or the second. The world flickered with every strike flashes of red, black, red, black until I couldn’t tell what was real anymore. I screamed his name until my throat tore, but the forest only echoed it back, warped and hollow.

When the whispers finally stopped, there was silence. Negan’s body slumped forward, the dirt drinking up the blood like it had been waiting for it. I fell to my knees, the mud cold and slick beneath me. His eyes were still open glassy, distant staring through me like he’d already left.

And then, just like the last dream, the world began to fade.

But this time, I didn’t wake up in Negan’s arms, didn’t feel his weight grounding me, his voice low against my ear, telling me it was just a dream, that he was right there, that I was safe.

This time, I woke up to nothing.

No warmth beside me. No voice. Just darkness pressing close and silence that roared in my ears. My skin was slick with sweat, my body trembling so hard and my eyes burned, stinging with tears I couldn’t stop, my throat felt like it was closing like I’d been screaming for hours but no sound had ever come out.

I sat up, gasping, trying to find air that didn’t seem to exist. The sheets were tangled around my legs, damp and cold. For a heartbeat I almost reached for him half expecting to feel his hand catch mine, to hear that gruff, steady whisper telling me I was okay.

But there was nothing. Just the echo of his voice in my head and the taste of fear thick on my tongue.

And in that silence, with my heart still hammering and the memory of his death burned behind my eyelids, I realized something that chilled me. 

I hadn’t just dreamed of losing him, I’d felt it in my bones.

Like the world had already decided his fate and was just letting me watch it happen.

I stood up, threw on my jacket, and knew there was no way in hell I was getting back to sleep. The dream still clung to me. Outside, the night was cool and too quiet. I sank down on the front steps, hands trembling as I dug for a cigarette. The lighter caught after a few shaky flicks, his lighter. I held it tight, like it was the last piece of him I had left.

The first drag did nothing to calm me. My eyes burned, and the tears kept falling no matter how hard I tried to breathe through them. I pulled my knees close, resting my forehead against them, rocking just slightly, like I could shake the image out of my head. His face. The blood. The sound of him falling. It wouldn’t leave me.

A soft voice broke through the dark. “Mae? What’re you doin’ up?”

I froze. Rick. His voice was rough from sleep, but it carried that steady concern only he had.

“Yeah, Rick… I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” I rasped out, but my voice betrayed me, raw and thick, like I’d been crying for hours.

He didn’t buy it. “No, you’re not. I can hear it.” His boots scuffed closer. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

I shook my head, eyes squeezed shut. I couldn’t let him see me like this shaking, broken, haunted by someone he already hated me for caring about. The tears came harder, hot and endless.

Rick sighed behind me not frustrated, just… tired and worried, the way a father gets when words won’t fix what’s hurting his kid. Then he sat down beside me without another word.

When he finally saw my face, I caught the look in his eyes surprise first, then something softer. “Hey… hey, it’s alright,” he murmured, and before I could even react, he pulled me in, arms wrapping around me like a shield.

I broke. The sob tore out of me before I could stop it, and Rick just held on tighter. “I got you,” he said quietly. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone, Mae. You hear me?”

I stayed there in his arms, shaking. For a minute, neither of us said a word. The night air pressed close, heavy with the smell of smoke. I could feel the rough fabric of his jacket against my cheek, the solid weight of someone who’d seen too many people fall apart to let another one do it alone.

He held me tighter, his voice low and steady against my ear. “What happened? What’s got you so upset?” he asked softly.

The gentleness in his voice only made the tears come harder because how could I even begin to tell him? How could I explain what happened, or how scared I really was?

“I… it’s nothing,” I started, shaking my head, the words tumbling out too quickly. My voice cracked halfway through. “Just…just a dream, that’s all.”

Rick didn’t say anything at first. He just stayed there beside me, solid and silent, waiting me out the way only he could. He’d seen this before me shutting down, trying to hide behind the word nothing.

His tone stayed quiet, but firmer now. “Mae… talk to me. You’re shaking.”

I swallowed hard, staring at the ground, the cigarette long dead between my fingers. My throat felt raw. “I can’t,” I whispered. “You won’t want to hear it.”

Rick’s voice softened, low and patient. “Mae… I’ve heard worse. You can tell me.”

I shook my head, my eyes burning again. “Not this,” I said quietly. “You’ll just look at me like I’m losing it… or like I made the wrong choice again.”

Rick exhaled, slow. “Ain’t about what I want to hear. It’s about what’s eatin’ you up inside.”

For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. The night felt too still, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I dug my nails into my palms, trying to hold myself together, but the words still slipped out, broken and small.

“It was… a dream,” I said finally, my throat tight. “About him.”

Rick frowned slightly. “Who?”

“Negan.” The name came out like a confession, sharp and fragile at once. “I saw him out there. With the Whisperers.” I swallowed hard, the memory clawing its way back up. “They… they killed him. I saw it happen. I watched him fall, and I couldn’t stop it.”

Rick’s expression shifted, something flickering in his eyes not anger, not yet, just quiet concern. He exhaled through his nose, slow and careful. “Mae… it was just a dream.”

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears. “You don’t understand. I felt it. Like something inside me knew it was coming. Like… I already lost him.”

Rick turned his head slightly, looking at me with that worn, steady kind of compassion only he could manage. “You care about him,” he said, not accusing, just stating what was already written all over me.

I swallowed hard. “Yeah. I do. I wish…I didn’t, but I do.”

He was quiet for a long moment, gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “Then maybe that’s what the dream’s really about,” he said softly. “You’re scared of losin’ someone again. And maybe you’re scared of what that means.”

I let out a shaky breath, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m tired of being scared.”

Rick nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “Me too.”

We sat there in silence after that, two people who’d lost too much, sitting under a sky that was just starting to gray with dawn. He didn’t tell me to forget the dream, didn’t tell me I was wrong. He just stayed, shoulder to shoulder, a quiet reminder that I wasn’t alone even if part of me still felt like I was.

Rick shifted slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. He said slowly, almost to himself, “I’ve had dreams like that too. About people I couldn’t save… about the ones I loved walking right into danger and me not bein’ able to do a damn thing.”

I looked up at him, surprised. He rarely shared things like that, not even with Daryl or Carl. But there he was, telling me, as if handing me a lifeline.

“They haunt you,” he continued, voice low, carrying that quiet, steady weight of his presence. “You wake up feelin’ like you failed before the day even starts. And sometimes…” He paused, his gaze far away. “…sometimes you just gotta let the fear be there, hold it for a minute, and then… try to move anyway.”

I swallowed, nodding slowly. “I feel like I’m frozen,” I admitted, my voice raw. “Like I can’t get past it. Like if I blink, I’ll miss the moment he dies all over again.”

Rick reached over and gave my shoulder a firm squeeze. “Mae… you’re not frozen. You’re scared. That’s different. And bein’ scared don’t mean you can’t fight. Don’t ever let anyone tell you it does.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, leaning slightly into him, the weight of his words settling around me. “I just… I don’t know if I can handle it,” I whispered.

“You can,” he said softly, almost like a promise. “You already are. And I’ll be here even if it’s just sittin’ on a step with you until the sun comes up.”

I felt a tiny flicker of something that wasn’t panic or dread. Comfort. Not the kind that erased fear, but the kind that let me breathe through it.

We stayed there, quiet, the world waking slowly around us. The silence lingered between us for a while, heavy but not uncomfortable. The air had started to warm with the first stretch of dawn, and somewhere out in the trees, a bird called the sound small but steady, alive.

Rick exhaled, his hand still resting on my shoulder. “You know,” he said quietly, “your dad would’ve hated seein’ you like this.”

My head lifted just slightly. “You think so?”

He nodded, a faint, distant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Jack… he worried too damn much.

He leaned back a little, his voice softening into memory. “I still remember the day you were born. Got the call in the middle of the night Rebecca yellin’ in the background, your dad cryin’ and laughin’ all at once. I must’ve broken every speed limit gettin’ to that hospital.”

A small, tearful laugh escaped me. “That sounds like you.”

Rick smiled faintly. “When I got there, Jack was standin’ by the window, holdin’ you. I’d never seen him look at anyone like that, not even your mum. He looked like the whole damn world had just landed in his arms. Like all he wanted to do was keep you safe and love you for the rest of his life.”

My throat tightened, the tears coming again, but quieter this time.

Rick glanced at me, eyes soft. “I got to watch you grow up, Mae. From this tiny, red-faced little baby who wouldn’t stop cryin’, to this woman right here, strong, stubborn, smart as hell, and too damn good for half the people in this world.”

I tried to smile, but my lip trembled. “He’d be disappointed in me,” I whispered. “If he knew…Wouldn't he?”

Rick shook his head firmly. “No. No, he wouldn’t. Jack loved you more than anything. And before he died…” His voice dropped lower, rougher now. “He made me promise to look after you. Told me, ‘Rick, she’s gonna need someone who’ll fight for her when I can’t. Don’t let her forget she’s loved.’”

He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “And I promised him I would. I’ve kept that promise every damn day since.”

I blinked through my tears, his words hitting something deep inside me.

“That’s why I get so protective,” Rick continued softly. “Not just ‘cause of that promise, but because I love you like you’re mine. I can’t stand the thought of you gettin’ hurt especially over someone like him.”

He didn’t have to say Negan’s name. It was there, sitting heavy in the space between us.

Rick’s voice grew quieter, almost pleading now. “I know you care about him. I know what that kind of love does to a person, how it twists you up inside until you can’t tell what’s right anymore. But Mae…” He swallowed hard. “I can’t lose you because of him. I can’t watch you break yourself tryin’ to save someone who’s already halfway gone.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks, silent and hot. I looked at him this man who’d always been there, who’d watched me grow, who’d carried every promise my father couldn’t keep.

“Rick…” I started, my voice shaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or make you think I’m choosing him over you. I just–”

“I know,” he said gently, cutting me off. “I know you’re not.” He looked away, exhaling a shaky breath. “I just wish the world gave you someone better to fall for.”

I sat there for a long moment, staring at the lighter in my hands,his lighter the metal catching the faint edge of morning light. My fingers wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I’ve tried,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Gosh, I’ve tried so hard to shut it off. To stop feeling anything for him.”

Rick didn’t speak just watched me, the same quiet patience he used to use with Carl when words were too heavy.

“But every time I thought I’d shut it off,” I went on, “something pulls me back. A look, a word, the way he... I don’t know, the way he sees me. Not as a soldier, not as someone he can use. Just…me.”

My throat tightened, and I swiped at my eyes. “I know what he’s done. I know what he is. I’ve seen it, I’ve lived it. But when I’m with him, it’s like there’s still a piece of the world that isn’t broken. Like maybe people really can change, even when they don’t deserve to.”

Rick exhaled slowly, looking away toward the trees, but I could tell he was listening to every word.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I said, shaking my head. “I know you think I’m naïve, or blind, but it’s not that simple. He’s not the same man he was, Rick. And I’m not the same woman I was when all this started.”

I looked up at him, eyes wet, searching his face for something maybe forgiveness, maybe just understanding.

“You think I don’t see the danger? That I don’t lie awake at night terrified that one day I’ll lose him, or that he’ll go back to being who he was? I do. Every damn night. But I can’t turn it off. I can’t stop caring. No matter how many times I tell myself I should.”

Rick rubbed his hand over his face, weary, torn between anger and compassion. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “You sound just like your dad,” he said.

That caught me off guard. “What?”

He gave a small, sad smile. “Jack loved with his whole damn heart. Even when it broke him. He never did anything halfway and I guess you got that from him.” He looked down at the lighter in my hand. “He’d probably understand more than I do.”

I bit my lip, the tears spilling over again. “I just wish I could make it stop hurting.”

Rick nodded, his gaze softening. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know that feelin’.”

He reached out and squeezed my hand gently, not to fix it, not to scold me, just to let me know I wasn’t alone.

The silence between us stretched, gentle but heavy, like the air right at dawn truly broke. The world was quiet no groans from the woods, no voices just the distant hum of the waking camp and the low thrum of crickets.

Rick finally stood, stretching his back with a quiet sigh. “You know,” he said softly, looking out toward the trees, “your dad used to tell me somethin’ whenever I got in my own head about losin’ people. He’d say, ‘You can’t stop who you love, but you can choose what you do with it.’”

He looked down at me then, eyes tired but kind. “I think he’d say the same to you.”

I swallowed hard, staring at the ground. “And what if what I do gets everyone hurt?”

Rick crouched a little, so we were eye level. “Then you learn from it. You don’t run from it. And you don’t hide from the people who give a damn about you.” His voice softened. “That’s all I’m askin’, Mae. Don’t shut us out. Don’t shut me out.”

He rested a hand briefly on my shoulder before stepping back. “Get some rest, if you can,” he said. “Or at least try.”

I nodded, though we both knew I wouldn’t. He lingered a moment longer, like he wanted to say something else, but then just gave a small nod and headed back inside, the door creaking softly behind him.

I sat there, watching the last of the night peel away into pale light. My chest felt hollow, full of too many things I couldn’t name. Love, guilt, fear all tangled up until I couldn’t tell one from the other.

Find other parts here

My conversation with Rick kept looping in my head, the hurt, the disappointment… but also the love underneath all of it. To hear him say he still loved me that he always would it cracked something open. Not fixed…not healed...but it steadied me. Just enough.

I found Negan by the trucks, going over strategy with Ezekiel. Every step toward him made my pulse jump harder.

They both looked up when I approached.

“Mae,” Ezekiel greeted gently. “Negan was just explaining that you’ll be staying back helping us.”

I flicked my eyes to Negan, then back to Ezekiel. “Seems I am.”

“But I’m taking over the check-ins,” I added before anyone could move past it. “If I’m not part of taking down Alpha, then I’ll handle the night check. I’ll meet him at the boundary line like we planned.”

Negan opened his mouth “Mae”

“No.” I cut him off, holding his stare this time.

“If you’re not going to let me come with you, then there is no way in hell I’m just sitting here not knowing. I’m doing this.”

There was steel in my voice I didn’t even try to soften.

“Mae,” he said, jaw tightening, “I already told you, I don’t want you anywhere near this.”

“Well, too bad,” I shot back. “You already pulled me off the main mission. Lydia gave us their border, their patterns, where they do and don’t move. I’ll meet you there. I’ll be safe. I know what I’m doing.”

He dragged a hand over his face, a slow exhale like he was fighting not to show the crack in him, especially with Ezekiel standing right there.

“I am doing this,” I repeated, quieter but sharper. “I’m not going to sit here and wonder if you’re dead or alive. I can’t. I won’t.”

That last part came out too raw.

Ezekiel’s eyes shifted between us and he saw it. Not tension like two people fighting. Tension like two people trying not to fall apart.

Ezekiel cleared his throat softly, like he suddenly understood something he was never meant to witness.

“I believe,” he said gently, “this is a conversation that does not require my ears.”

He gave a small nod respectful, not judging and then stepped back. As he turned away, his voice lowered with that quiet kingly grace of his. “I shall give you two a moment.”

And then he walked off not slow, not dramatic just enough distance to leave us in the hollowed-out silence he stepped away from.

Now it was just the two of us.

Negan’s jaw worked once tense then again, like he was trying to swallow a hundred words at once.

He still didn’t speak, he just stared at me like he was trying to memorize my face before saying anything at all.

“Negan,” I whispered, softer this time, “I need to do this. I need to know you’re okay out there.” That was what finally broke through.

He stepped closer, chest rising with a deep breath and when he spoke, it wasn’t loud, it wasn’t harsh it was raw. “I just” his voice snagged, “I just don’t wanna lose you. I want you safe. I want you alive.”

I held his gaze, steady but aching. “You’re not going to,” I said quietly. “I’ll do the check-in, get the internal, and then I’m out. Safe. Quiet. Clean.”

His jaw flexed his eyes locked to mine and then he exhaled like surrender. “…okay,” he breathed. “You do it quick,” he said, voice low but firm. “No bullshit. In and out.” 

“I will,” I said and despite everything, I smiled. He tried not to, but that crooked little smirk pulled at his mouth anyway.

“How’d that conversation go with Officer Friendly?” Negan asked.

I huffed out a breath  “Mm. Not great. He was angry. Hurt. Disappointed.” I swallowed, hands tightening at my sides. “He made me say it out loud. He made me say that I love you.”

Negan didn’t interrupt. He didn’t scoff. He didn’t throw in a joke. He just listened steady like he knew how heavy this was.

“And in the end,” I continued, voice breaking all over again, “even with how angry he was… he told me he still loves me. He said he doesn’t agree. He said he doesn’t understand.” My throat closed up.“But he said he still loves me.”

I blinked hard, breath shaking.

“And that’s what I needed. I needed to know I didn’t lose him too.”

I drew in a breath, steadying the sting in my chest.

“Negan… I’m going to hold to what you said,” I whispered. “You told me there could be a future. You told me you saw something beyond this war. You told me you wanted me beside you at Sanctuary, helping lead. You said we could rebuild something better than what came before.”

His eyes flickered, like he wasn’t expecting me to throw his words back at him.

“And I believe you,” I went on. “I believe in that future you talked about. I believe in what we could make. Not fear… not control…but working together for something real.”

Negan swallowed, jaw tight, that tiny tell of something hitting deeper than he could hide.

“You think we can still have that?” he asked not cocky but honest.

“Yes,” I said immediately. “Because I’m fighting for it. For you. For peace. For something that isn’t just blood and loss. And I’m not walking away from what you asked of me Sanctuary, the people, building something worth staying alive for.”

His voice went quiet. Almost careful“...so is that a yes then?” he asked. “Are you agreeing to come be with me, lead with me…at Sanctuary? Build this future we keep talkin’ about?”

There was no hesitation left in me anymore.

“Yes,” I said. Not a whisper. Not a stutter. A choice.

And the second that word left my mouth, Negan’s whole damn face broke open into a smile he didn’t even try to hide.

Lucille slipped right out of his hand hit the ground with a dull thud and he grabbed me, lifted me clean off my feet and spun me like he couldn’t help it.

A laugh broke out of me unplanned sharp and wet with leftover tears.

He set me back down slow, hands still on my waist, his forehead brushing mine like he needed one last physical proof I was actually there, actually his.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, voice shaking with it, “you just made the whole damn world make sense for a second.”

He was still smiling that rare, unguarded grin that made something in my chest ache. His hands stayed firm on my waist, holding me like I was something solid in a world that kept breaking apart.

I didn’t even think. I just leaned in.

Our mouths met deep, certain, full of every fear and promise we hadn’t said out loud. For that heartbeat, I didn’t care who saw. Not Ezekiel, not the others. The world could’ve burned around us and I wouldn’t have looked away.

It was just us the quiet between breaths, the warmth of his hands, the way his forehead rested against mine when the kiss finally broke.

He whispered, voice low but trembling with something raw, “That’s my girl.”

And for a moment, there was no war, no danger, no guilt just the simple, impossible truth of being his.

But the moment couldn’t last.

Negan let out a slow breath against my forehead, the warmth of his presence fading into something tighter, heavier… because he knew. This was it. He had to go.

“We’re out of time,” he murmured.

I nodded, though every fiber of me wanted to say no, to hold on, to drag this moment out until the world ended.

He leaned closer for just a heartbeat, fingers brushing my wrist, not grabbing, just memorizing the rhythm of my pulse.

We pulled apart to see the group approaching. Daryl walked up, Lydia at his side. Rick’s face was unreadable, sharp, the weight of everything we’d said and done pressed into his expression.

“You ready, kid?” Negan asked Lydia.

She nodded, tight-lipped.

Daryl crouched slightly to her level. “If it goes south, you get out. You find us. Come back here.”

“I will, Daryl,” she said firmly, though her eyes betrayed the tiniest flicker of worry.

I turned back to Negan, trying to mask the tremor in my voice with authority. “First check-in tomorrow at dusk. Get as much intel as you can. Work, earn her trust. That’s the job. I’ll see you then.”

He gave a small, firm nod.

I looked at him one last time, letting my eyes lock with his, and his voice dropped quiet, low enough that only I could hear.

“See you on the other side, Mae.”

He stepped back. Just enough that it hurt. I felt it physically as if someone had yanked a wire straight out of my chest.

Then he turned toward the gate. Each step he took echoed louder than gunfire, louder than anything we’d survived.

I stayed frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe, as if blinking might make him vanish completely.

He didn’t look back.

Not because he didn’t want to.

But because if he did… neither of us would have been able to walk away.

I turned and walked away before anyone could see my face crack open again. Hilltop’s side garden was empty, quiet the old bench tucked under the tree line. I sat, lit a smoke, and let out a hard breath that scraped my ribs on the way out.

Today had been too much.

Negan refusing to let me come with him. Rick hearing the truth. Watching Negan walk through that gate and not knowing if I’d ever see him alive again.

My chest ached. My head burned. Everything inside me felt like frayed wire.

Footsteps approached steady, familiar.

Daryl.

He didn’t ask before sitting down beside me. He didn’t need to. Daryl always… just knew. He’d always been able to read me since the prison, since the farm like he could see every fracture under my skin even when I tried to hide them.

My hands shook as I pulled a smoke from the pack and held it out to him. He took it, thumb brushing mine for half a second, grounding, then lit up.

We didn’t say anything at first.

Just the two of us breathing in the quiet leaves shifting in the wind, birds calling out somewhere far off like the world didn’t know how close everything was to breaking.

“You alright, kid?” he finally murmured.

I tried to speak but nothing came out. I just shook my head.

He didn’t push. Didn’t pry. He just opened one arm the smallest gesture an invitation.

“C’mere.”

And I leaned into him. Because right then… I didn’t have to be strong. Not with Daryl.

I rested my head on his shoulder, letting the solid weight of him ground me. The smoke curled lazily around us, mingling with the quiet of the afternoon, offering a small, fragile pocket of calm.

“I heard,” Daryl said low, his voice rough but not unkind. “I heard what you said to Rick.”

I shook slightly, pressing closer. “Daryl… please. I can’t do this again. Not today. Not after everything. I just… I don’t have the strength.”

His arm tightened around me, firm and grounding. “Just… be careful, kid. Alright?” I leaned into him, letting the solid weight of his presence steady me, even as my chest ached with the fear and longing I wasn’t supposed to feel for someone else.

We stayed like that a moment longer, the quiet stretching between us, both of us knowing the storm waiting just beyond the gates.

Finally, he shifted, brushing the smoke from his face. “Come on. The others’ll be here soon to help rig the truck with the speakers. You can help out.”

He stood, holding out a hand. I took it, letting him haul me to my feet. For a moment, I felt both grounded and unsteady, caught between fear and the calm before the storm.

I followed Daryl across the yard back to Rick, who was just finishing a call over the radio. “They’re on their way. Close,” he said, his voice clipped but tense.

“Who’s coming?” I asked, trying to steady my own nerves.

“Eugene, he’s helping with the wiring. Rosita too. A few people from the Kingdom are coming to prep the diversion for Beta. And Michonne’s on her way as well,” Rick answered, his eyes flicking over me briefly before returning to the task at hand.

The tension in the yard didn’t let up for long. Engines hummed in the distance, signaling the others were on their way. Within minutes, trucks and jeeps rolled in, dust kicking up around the boots of those stepping out, Rosita, Eugene, a few Kingdom survivors, and Michonne herself.

My chest tightened with relief and gratitude as I moved through the group, greeting each of them, my arms wrapping around familiar shoulders that felt like home. “It’s so good to see you all,” I said, voice trembling with something between exhaustion and warmth.

Michonne was the next to reach me. She pulled me into a firm, grounding embrace, the kind that reminded me how strong she always was and how much I’d missed her. I held on tight, closing my eyes for a second before pulling back.

“How have you been, Mae?” she asked softly, studying my face.

I forced a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Mm… as good as I can be,” I said quietly.

Her gaze lingered, sharp and knowing. “You been okay there? At the Sanctuary?” a pause “Safe… with him?”

The words hit like a small twist in my stomach. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my tone even. “Uh… yeah. I’m safe,” was all I managed, though it sounded thinner than I wanted it to.

Before the silence could stretch any further, Rick’s voice cut through it, steady but clipped. “Alright, that’s enough catching up for now. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Michonne gave my arm a small squeeze before stepping back, leaving me standing there with the weight of unspoken questions still hanging in the air.

The day felt long, as my mind kept drifting back to Negan walking out of the gates, that brief, impossible moment we had, the warmth of him pressed against me. Every heartbeat a reminder that he was out there, alone, about to walk straight into danger.

I knelt by a speaker, checking the wiring, but my hands trembled despite the motions being automatic. “Eugene is this correct” I spoke up.

Eugene crouched down beside me, peering over the wiring with his usual intensity. “Your connections are approximately ninety-five percent optimal,” he said, adjusting one of the cables. “Though, if I may be so bold, your dexterity appears somewhat compromised. Tremor in your hands suggests elevated cortisol levels stress, fatigue, or possibly both.”

He glanced up at me, his tone softening just slightly. “I may not exactly be an expert in emotional rectification, but… maybe take a breath before we short-circuit somethin’ important. These wires’ll wait a few seconds. The world might not, but these will.”

I let out a shaky breath and gave a small, tired smile. “Yeah… you’re probably right,” I murmured, rubbing the back of my hand across my cheek before glancing back at the tangled mess of wires. “Guess I’m not exactly steady today.”

Eugene adjusted his stance, his voice quieter now, almost gentle. “Ain’t nobody steady these days, not with what’s comin’. But, uh…you’ve got this. You always do.”

Something about the awkward sincerity in his tone eased the tightness in her chest. I smiled again, softer this time, real. “Thanks, Eugene.”

He nodded once, fumbling with the cable like he didn’t quite know what to do with her gratitude.

Every time the truck engine roared, or someone shifted the heavy cables, my stomach flipped. I tried to channel the fear into focus, but the truth was simple and stubborn I was terrified for him. Terrified that everything I had fought for, our trust, our fleeting moments, our love could burn away before I even got the chance to hold him again.

    ────────── ⋆ ──────────

The next day dragged by in slow, aching hours. Every minute felt heavier than the last, my stomach so knotted I could barely keep anything down. I’d force a few bites just to quiet the worried looks from the others, but the truth was I couldn’t eat, couldn’t rest, couldn’t think straight.

Not knowing if Negan was okay was eating me alive from the inside out.

We spent the day working, keeping busy because that’s what survivors do. We finished the wiring on the truck, tested the speakers until the static hummed through the air, and went over every last detail for the Beta distraction, shooter placements, noise decoys, the armored escorts, the escape routes.

It should’ve felt like progress, like control. But all it felt like was time slipping away.

Every sound made me flinch. Every shadow made my heart jump. My hands moved through the motions, but my mind was miles away out there with him.

I kept replaying our last moments together, the way his voice dropped when he said goodbye, the way his hand brushed mine before he walked away. I could still feel it that quiet, desperate warmth we both held on to like it was the only thing keeping us from falling apart.

As the sun sank, washing Hilltop’s walls in a flat, tired gold, I found myself staring at the tree line and wishing, with the kind of desperate smallness that made my chest ache that he’d just walk back through it. Alive.

Dusk deepened and the air turned sharp. The yard buzzed with last-minute checks, speakers tested, cables adjusted, trucks loaded. Voices and the clang of tools blurred into a distant hum. For me it was all underwater noise, my world had narrowed to one thin, bright point of fear.

I walked to the rendezvous point with the map folded into my palm and the radio heavy at my side. The old shack we’d chosen was half-collapsed, roof caved in, the kind of place that disappeared into the trees. Close enough for him to reach, hidden enough that it wouldn’t draw a patrol’s eye.

I eased the door open, gun already in my hand, and swept the empty interior. No one. I slid into a rotten chair facing the doorway, weapon trained on the entrance because you couldn’t be too careful. My leg bounced as minutes stretched. I watched the little second hand on my watch and tasted bile. An hour late. My stomach tightened until it felt like a fist.

Then the hinges groaned. I jerked to my feet, gun up.

“Mae.” His voice soft, familiar, the one I’d been replaying in my head for a day and then him, Lucille slung across his back with a leather strap, his silhouette framed in the doorway.

I didn’t think. I ran. Hit his chest and wrapped myself around him, breathless. He held me like he’d been holding on too, and when he tipped his head, his mouth covered mine hard, deep, everything poured into it. When we finally broke, I pressed my forehead to his and whispered, “You’re alive.”

“Of course I am, baby,” he said with that cocky bravado that always tried to make me smile. “I don’t die.”

I melted into him, listening to the steady beat of his chest as he stroked my hair, chin on my crown. “I was so scared,” I admitted into his shirt. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t…think.”

“I’m right here,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.” We stayed like that for another breath, holding on.

Footsteps sounded behind him. I snapped my gun up again, reflex. “Hey, hey, it’s Lydia,” Negan said, hands up, calm. “It’s okay.”

He turned back to me, eyes sharp. “You’ve got to get her out of here, Mae. It’s too dangerous for her here. Bring her back to Hilltop. Hide her.”

I frowned, confused.

“She don’t deserve any of this,” he said, softer now. “But Alpha prizes people presents, tokens. There’s already cracks in her leadership, folks are whisperin’. I see the edges most don’t.” He glanced at the ruined chair, then back at me, the plan clicking into place behind his eyes.

“If we position this right, use it to our advantage, it opens a door. I’m gonna set one of ’em up. She’s already questionin’ that one’s loyalty; if I play it right, Alpha’ll let me close in.”

He reached up and brushed his thumb along my cheek, slow and steady a touch that said everything his words couldn’t. His voice dropped low, calm but unshakable. “But baby… you can’t come out here anymore. It’s too damn dangerous. Leave the radio here. I’ll check in that way.”

My jaw tightened. “Negan”

He shook his head once, firm. “No. Don’t. You know I’m right.”

I took a step closer, refusing to let the space between us close with silence. “You don’t get to decide that for me. I can handle myself, I have handled myself. You think I can just sit behind walls and wait to hear if you’re still breathing?”

His eyes softened, but that stubborn line in his jaw didn’t move. “I know you can handle yourself. Hell, you’re tougher than half the men I’ve ever met. But that’s not the point.” He leaned in, voice dropping lower. “The point is, I don’t want to lose you over a bad call. Not when I can keep you safe by askin’ you to stay put.”

I opened my mouth, but the words tangled in my throat anger and fear, both pulling at me in opposite directions. “You think staying back feels safe? When you walk out there, I’m the one left wondering if I’m going to see you again. You don’t get how that feels.”

Negan’s hand slid to the back of my neck, grounding, steady. “I do. More than you think. I feel the same way every time I picture you out here alone.” His thumb brushed my skin again. “Please, baby. Let me take the risk this time.”

For a moment I tried to hold his gaze, tried to find something in it I could argue with but all I saw was the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. The fear. The promise.

My shoulders dropped. The fight bled out of me, leaving only the ache. “Fine,” I whispered. “But you better damn well check in on time.”

He gave a half-smile, weary but real. “You’ll hear from me. I swear it.”

He pulled me in again, arms wrapping tight around me. I felt the weight of his breath against my hair. “I love you so damn much, Mae. Every move I make, every risk, it’s all for you. You’re the one thing that gets me through this shit.”

Tears burned my eyes as I clutched at the back of his jacket. “I love you too, Negan,” I breathed, the words breaking somewhere between a whisper and a promise.

He drew back just enough to meet my eyes, his expression fierce and tender all at once. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself while I’m out here,” he said. “I need to know you’ll be okay, as okay as you can be. Eat. Sleep. Don’t let that fire in you burn out, you hear me?”

I nodded, voice trembling. “Okay. I promise.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face small, but real. “Good girl,” he murmured.

Then he bent down and kissed me again, slower this time, deeper, like he was trying to memorise the feel of it, to take it with him wherever he was going. His hand lingered against my cheek, his thumb tracing one last path across my skin before he finally pulled away. Lucille brushed his shoulder as he turned toward the trees, the faint clink of it breaking the silence between us.

He glanced back once, just once and gave me that soft, crooked smile that always undid me. The kind of smile that carried every word he didn’t have time to say. Then, with a faint lift of his hand, he blew me a kiss.

I stood there frozen, my breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. The shadows swallowed him a little more with each step, the outline of him fading into the dark until there was nothing left but the sound of the wind and the echo of his voice still beating inside my chest.

The plan necessary, dangerous, born out of love sat like lead beneath my ribs. And there I was again, standing still, watching him walk away into danger, not knowing if he’d ever come back.

For a long moment, I couldn’t move. The woods had gone quiet, like even the night was holding its breath. The only sound left was my heartbeat loud, uneven, too alive for how hollow I suddenly felt.

I swallowed hard, forcing air back into my lungs, but it came in shallow, trembling gasps. My fingers still tingled where he’d touched me. Every part of me screamed to run after him, to pull him back, to tell him to forget the plan that none of it was worth the risk. But I couldn’t. Because I knew him. And I knew this was the only way.

Finally, I turned away, forcing my voice to steady. “Come on… we should get back,” I said to Lydia.

My legs felt heavy as I started the slow walk toward Hilltop. The night air bit at my skin,  sharp, cold, grounding reminding me that the world was still turning even when I wanted it to stop. Branches cracked beneath our boots, the sound cutting through the quiet. With each step, the faint hum of campfire smoke and distant chatter started to creep back in life, still moving, still demanding to be lived.

After a while, Lydia’s voice broke the silence soft, hesitant, almost afraid to be heard. “He… he really loves you,” she said. I glanced back at her. Her eyes caught the faint moonlight, uncertain but honest. “I’ve just… never seen anyone look at someone like that,” she went on. “Not really. Not like he looks at you.”

I studied her for a long moment this girl who’d survived the same monsters that haunted him, who’d seen the same kind of pain. There was something raw in her tone, something that made me ache a little deeper.

“Yeah,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what scares me.”