Two Of My Favorite Things Being Paralleled In Quotes? What A Treat!!

Justified - Chapter 7

A Negan Series

Chapter 6 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Warnings: smut - detailed and implied. Language. 18+ only.

A/n - Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me on this journey! There's one more little wrap up to this series coming (Daryl reunion, anyone?), but this piece feels good to finally finish. As always, feedback is welcome!

Her days bedridden passed lazily and slowly. Negan woke her with long, sensual kisses each morning before leaving her for most of the day.

She read to pass the time, sometimes reading aloud to Negan when he joined her again in the evenings. She liked making use of her vocal muscles, any way to release some of the energy that was returning to her more each day. He liked the sound of her voice, never really paying much attention to the subject of her reading. She noticed this, of course, and began sneaking in some smutty romance to see if he’d notice.

He did.

The IV and the pain of her wound still prevented much physical activity, but they found plenty of ways to work around that. The more time they spent together, the more they seemed to crave it.

In her moments alone, she found herself thinking of Daryl and did her best to push the thoughts away. Often unsuccessful, she sat in self-loathing, remembering the person she was with him. In the months they’d shared, they’d easily fallen into a rhythm of teamwork. Their runs together took longer than any other runs, not only because they enjoyed the time with one another, or because they liked to take advantage of the alone time with stolen kisses (and often more than that). Neither would openly admit it to the other, but they both brought with them a list for others in the community. Items Tara would request, or something that might make Carl smile, or a snack or drink Daryl had overheard Rosita reminiscing about. Anything one of their family would enjoy having. They both loved watching the faces of their people light up when they saw their treats. Both she and Daryl had figured out the other was doing the same thing, but neither wanted to call attention to it. It was an unspoken quest they were both happy to be part of.

 On the days they were working apart, sometimes with schedules so opposite they’d only see each other in passing, they had developed a secret code to signal the other for a secret rendezvous. A hideous turquoise and zebra print scarf - found in the bottom of a closet in the room they shared in the Grimes’s Alexandria home - spotted tied around a post, or tree, or car mirror, meant they’d find the other waiting for them at their claimed spot in the woods. It was a small clearing, wildflowers blooming across it in the spring, bordered on one edge by a large, downed tree that was great for sitting, but more importantly hid them from view from anyone who might be wandering from the community. They’d return home together half an hour later, smiling conspicuously, their clothes in disarray and often picking leaves and twigs off each other, before separating again to the tasks they’d been assigned. It was good. He was good, and she was good. They were happy.

The thought of returning to that now left her heart torn in two; she longed for it, for him to look at her in that trusting, happy way; and she knew without doubt that she could never have that again. When Daryl learned what she’d done, who she’d become…she imagined his face, what would simmer in his eyes when he looked at her, and she couldn’t bear it. Pushing the image deep within herself, she’d pick up another book and force herself to focus on the words.

She couldn’t deny that things had changed here in the Sanctuary. The people were mostly the same, though many of the Saviors she’d come to know would send her gifts and cards to wish her a speedy recovery, many stopping by to say hello and offer help. The place seemed brighter, somehow. Lighter. Like everyone was breathing easier. Even Negan seemed to have softened some. He was brooding less, and his jokes not so dark. It was nothing like Alexandria had been, but she couldn’t deny it felt… comfortable. Happy, even.

She almost kissed the doctor on the mouth when he informed her that her infection had cleared up and she could stop the IVs and begin light activity to strengthen her leg.

Negan turned his grin toward her as the doctor left the room. “So, would you like a walk outside or a shower?” he asked her, knowing both were on the top of her list of things to do first. She slowly stood, taking his outstretched hand and limping toward him.

It took a frustratingly long time to reach him. Finally in front of him, she lifted to her tiptoes, putting most weight on her good leg to do so, and planted her lips firmly against his. When he returned her kiss, she began unbuckling the belt of his pants. “I can think of something else I’d like first,” she mumbled against his mouth.

He pulled away to look her in the eye. “Are you sure?”

“The doctor said light activity was good for me,” she replied seductively.

He lifted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs around him and returned her lips to his.

“Not the bed,” she said against his mouth when he started moving her backwards. She’d spent too much time in that bed lately. He pivoted and instead made his way to the couch with her. He sat, her straddling his lap, and their kisses got more heated. Their tongues in a playful dance, her occasionally biting his lip in the way that drove him crazy. She felt his growing erection pressing into her core from within his jeans.

She made her way to his neck, sucking and kissing the tender spots, eliciting deep growls of pleasure from him.

She slowly moved to put her knees on the floor before him, careful not to flex her thigh too much, and finished the job of undoing his belt. She looked up at him with sultry eyes, biting her lip as she worked on his jeans, the heat in his eyes immediately making her wet between her thighs.

His jeans undone, his member sprung free of its cage, and she felt a tingle deep between her legs. The thick shaft, hard as a rock, beckoned for her to consume it. She conceded to its call, taking his tip into her mouth and flicking it with her tongue. She varied between a light suck and massaging it with her tongue, and raising her eyes, watched as he held her eye contact with every gasp she drew from him. She moved her mouth further down his length, working her tongue underneath his shaft. His head rolled back as she took him as far into her mouth as she could, coughing when he reached her gag reflex. Her hands moved to the area of shaft that remained exposed as she worked him up and down with her mouth, massaging and pumping him. Continuing with her mouth pumping and her hands massaging, she heard his moans and sharp breaths, and knew he didn’t have much further to go before he found release.

She withdrew from him, carefully and timidly standing, and met his eyes as she slowly dropped her pajama shorts to the floor. Stepping out of them, she pulled her shirt over her head and threw it haphazardly in the direction of the bed. Now bare before him, he could not help but reach out and touch her. She let him trace her shape with his hands from her hips to her breasts, where he cupped each in one hand. She moved to straddle him while he massaged her, and lowered herself until she felt his hardness pressed against her. She raised just slightly, enough to place his tip at her entrance, and she paused there. She leaned in, kissing him passionately. She began rocking her hips back and forth, feeling his slick tip rub up and down her center. She moved her mouth to his neck again, continuing the movement of her hips. She wanted him inside her, but not yet. She leaned back to look in his eyes as she continued teasing him and saw a plead in his eyes. He made to push into her, and she pushed his abdomen back down, preventing him.

“Y/n,” he moaned out, the plead moving from his eyes to his voice.

Her lips curled upward in a devious smile, she savored the power she held over him.

“Y/n,” this time a deeper growl, laced with demand.

She grinned wickedly at him, then holding his cock with her hand, moved him to her entrance and lowered herself onto him, fully sheathing him in her tight warmth. She leaned further away from him as she rolled her hips, savoring the way he filled her. He gripped her hips, steadying her with each roll. Negan began pumping up into her, finding her rhythm and matching it. They held eye contact as they rhythmically moved together. She picked up the pace and he groaned as his eyes rolled back in his head. She moved her hand between her legs, but he pushed it aside to replace it with one of his own. She felt her orgasm building as she continued to ride him, feeling him hit every wall within her, while he rubbed her clit in circles. As her moans grew louder and her eyes closed, she felt him pump up into her more vigorously. She shattered, leaning into him and crying out. When he was sure she’d ridden out her high, Negan lifted her and placing her on her back on the floor, quickly pumped back into her. He worked her fiercely, removing his cock almost completely from her and then pounding back in. Out and in, out and in, grunting with each insertion. She couldn’t stop herself from crying out in pleasure at every pump. A second orgasm was now verging on release. His pumps became more frantic, animalistic and he shoved in and out of her, her hands gripping the hair on the back of his head, and she gasped as her second release exploded through her. He followed immediately, erupting within her with a cry of his own. He stilled as he finished, pumped into her a few short times as she rode out her high, and then collapsed on the floor beside her, both panting.

“Fuck, y/n,” Negan said in a breathless voice.

The floodgates opened; they could not seem to get enough of each other after that. Not half an hour later, they were at it again in the shower. Her energy depleted quickly in her recovering state. Following the shower, she climbed back into bed, exhausted and sore. She smiled as she drifted into sleep. She awoke to Negan between her legs again, eager and demanding. After dinner, she did attempt a walk outside, but couldn’t get down more than three stairs before having Negan help her back to his room. Her leg throbbing from all the movement, the doctor gave her something strong for the pain. She slept a fitful sleep, dreaming of Daryl throughout the night.

-------

As she continued to recover, she did not return to her own room. There was no mention of it from either of them. The sex didn’t slow. They found themselves hungrily attaching to each other with every spare minute Negan could find. It did not matter where they were, and soon she was sure he’d had her in every room of the Sanctuary, and even places that weren’t rooms. Each day she got stronger and able to walk further, until finally she was limping around the border gates unsupported.

She was finishing one of those such walks, heading back toward the stairwell entrance where Negan had disappeared - giving her a suggestive nod to follow him inside - when she saw it. It was a brief flash of color in the corner of her eye, causing her to look again. Just another walker chained to the fence, she turned to walk to the door and froze. That was just another walker, but what it was wearing stopped her heart. She slowly turned to look again, hoping she imagined it. She hadn’t.

Draped around the walker’s decaying neck was the familiar black, white, and turquoise scarf.

She scanned the perimeter, panic rising in her. He couldn’t be here; it would be so stupid to come back here. A flash from the corner of a rundown building caught her attention, she squinted to see a figure half hidden there, rotating a small mirror to catch the sun. She moved closer to the fence, and the man stepped out from the building. Aaron. She relaxed a little, selfishly grateful it was not Daryl putting his life in danger. She shook her head at him as if to say, not now. She tapped her wrist where a watch would be, and held up three fingers, then shifted them into a circle. Thirty minutes, she willed him to understand. He nodded and disappeared completely behind the building.

Thirty minutes later, she was hobbling away from a disappointed Negan through the gates and toward the buildings across the street from the Sanctuary. He had been expecting a hot and heavy round in the stairs with her when she told him she’d seen something suspicious in the town. She suspected just a loose walker but wanted to check it out. He protested, but she’d made a solid argument for needing to get her sea legs back. She needed the practice. As she veered left, heading toward an alley two buildings away from where she’d seen Aaron, she heard light footsteps behind her. She grinned to herself as she picked up her pace and ducked around the building. She moved as quickly as she could around buildings, down alleys, seemingly lost and wandering, until she found the cracked door of the building Aaron had been hiding behind. She was met with stairs, and took them to the first landing, where she found another door cracked open. She had just stepped through it when she heard the outside door squeak open behind her.

She located Aaron in the second room on the right and as quickly as possible whispered “We are not alone. Speak carefully.”

Aaron squinted and blinked at her as he processed what she’d said. She began the conversation in a hushed voice, “What are you doing here? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Because that is what will happen if they find you sneaking around out here.”

“Are you okay?” he replied. “Some Saviors came looking for Daryl, said he’d run away.  We wanted to see if you were still here, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You shouldn’t have come here. Don’t let them see you when you leave.” She turned to leave.

“Come with me,” Aaron said. She halted and turned to face him again.

“Why would I?” she asked coldly.

“Why would you stay here? These people… Negan…,” Aaron searched for the words, “you’re better than this. Better than them. You belong with us.”

She scoffed. “I’m right where I should be.”

Aaron searched her face, and she softened it a little. She had quickly liked Aaron; he was such a genuine person. “I’m not going back with you,” she said, more gently this time.

As she turned again to leave, Aaron grabbed her by the arm. Their eyes met, and she saw fierce warning in them. “We’re going to fight, Y/N. Soon. We will not hesitate to take down anyone on his side. You should come back.”

“Aaron,” she gave her own warning, “You can’t fight him. Numbers are not on your side, and you’ve lost enough people. Don’t lose more for no reason.”

She pulled her arm from his grip and made for the door. When she got to the threshold and saw no one in the hall, she turned to Aaron one more time, with a plea in her eye.

“Give me a couple of days. To talk to him, try to convince him to negotiate with Rick. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Aaron gave her one short nod. She left.

-------

She found Negan and Dwight talking in low voices in the courtyard when she came through the gate. She should have guessed that little weasel was the one following her, now giving a full report of what he’d heard from her meeting with Aaron. Negan gave an order and Dwight nodded and disappeared inside the building, leaving her limping toward Negan alone.

“I don’t see any walker blood on you,” Negan said, giving her a once over.

“I don’t appreciate you having me followed. Especially not by him,” she replied, jerking her chin in the direction Dwight had gone.

“I don’t like being lied to,” he replied shortly.

“What did he tell you?”

“That we’re going to war,” he replied as he moved to the door and held it open, indicating she should join him inside. She saw a couple of guys hanging around a few feet past the entrance. She stopped as she entered the building, and faced Negan as he entered behind her.

“You don’t have to go to war, Negan,” she said, sincerity flooding her voice. “You could meet with Rick, find a solution that works for all of us to keep the peace. Work out a trade deal with him. Not everything has to be a fight.”

“This does.”

“Negan,” she touched his arm, “aren’t you tired of this? Aren’t you tired of losing our people?” The term struck her as odd – our people. But they were her people, too. They had become her people. She knew the guys here, knew their families, where they’d come from and what they’d been through. She’d spent months getting to know them, and she even liked a good number of them. “He kills our guys, you kill his, is it going to go on and on forever?”

“No, I am not tired, and no it will not go on and on forever. We are going to end this, for real this time.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t just make that decision; you can’t just ignore other options because you and Rick aren’t done measuring your dicks. We’ve lost too many people already.”

Negan looked at the guys standing nearby, who had not even tried to hide that they were eavesdropping. When they saw him looking at them, they immediately found themselves needed somewhere else.

“In private,” Negan looked at her, furious, “you can say whatever the hell you want to me, but you question me in front of my guys again,” he looked pointedly where the men had been standing, then moved in close to her as he said “I will shut. your. shit. down. Are we clear?”

She did not break his stare.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, move your ass. You have an assembly to join.”

She entered the large warehouse area and proceeded down the stairs to join the large group of Saviors and workers gathered there. She noticed the two guys who’d heard her conversation with Negan gathered with a group of other guys, talking lowly and watching her as she passed them. Telling them what she’d said to Negan, no doubt. One thing about the Saviors, she could count on them all to be busybodies and gossips.

Negan began from his place on the platform above the assembly, briefly explaining that Rick and his “merry band” were planning on coming for them, and it was time to put an end to them. She waited patiently, watching the crowd as they began whispering and grumbling amongst themselves. The mood of the room shifted - the dissatisfaction was almost tangible. Those busybodies had done fast work.  

She raised her hand, willing herself not to shake, not to show the overwhelming sense of fear she felt. This is what she’d been working toward for months.

Negan saw her hand, his eyes found hers, and he could have burned holes into her with the look behind them.

“I am not currently taking questions,” he said curtly. Everyone turned to see who he was speaking to.

“I don’t have a question,” she said, her voice miraculously unshaken. “More of a statement – I think we should take a vote.”

“A vote?” he answered in surprise.

“Yes. You and Rick have been at each other for months now. He’s killed way more of our people than we have of his. We should vote if we want to continue fighting him.”

“We don’t vote here,” Negan said, at a near laugh. “In case you are confused, this has never been, and never will be a democracy. If I say you are going to fight, you are going to fight.”

“Why are we even doing this? They don’t have a food source, they don’t have any weapons, we already took those. They aren’t really giving us anything. This is about nothing but you and your pride. He doesn’t want to keep kissing your ass, and you’re pissed off about it. If you won’t let us vote, then I won’t sit by and watch these people, my friends, die for your sick games and your pride.”

She could hear the murmurs growing in volume around her, felt the tension as everyone waited to see what Negan would do.

“You know where the door is,” he said as he gestured behind him. “No one is forcing anyone to stay here. But if you want to continue living the lovely, easy life you’ve seemed to grow accustomed to, you will fall. in. line.” Each word of his dripping with rage and threat.

“I’m not being unreasonable, Negan,” she pressed, “I just want you to consider less drastic options. I just want the bloodshed to end.”

Negan stared at her, rage nearly visibly radiating from him. Low agreements began filling the room.

After what felt like several minutes of a hate-filled staring contest, she began pushing through the crowd toward the exit.

“I can’t be part of it,” she said as she passed under his perch on the bridge, “I can’t watch you get us all killed.”

She left the building and began walking toward the vehicles parked outside. She heard the doors open behind her and turning, saw three women rushing toward her. “We want to go with you!” Tanya all but yelled at her as Negan’s remaining wives caught up to her.

They hadn’t made it to a vehicle yet when the doors opened again, and men began trickling out - a few at first, then more and more -all heading for their own bikes and trucks and muttering and griping. By the time the wives had loaded into the old SUV she pointed them to, the yard was filled with what looked like every Savior from the assembly, all preparing their own vehicles.

She did not try to hide her grin as she drove through the gates of the Sanctuary, and watched as the yard emptied behind her, following. She was almost giddy - it had worked so perfectly.

-------

No one was there when Rick and the small army he had gathered came to take Negan. They rounded each corner confused, finding every hall, every room, completely empty. Even the workers had abandoned the place, gathering supplies and food, first.

They found Negan sitting alone in his room, sipping his whiskey on his couch. He put up no fight as Rick tied him up and brought him back to Alexandria, locking him in the cell Morgan had built.

🥵

Y’all always out here giving some new TV boyfriend to obsess about

♡ Hotline ♡

Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: You and Mikey have been casually seeing each other for a few weeks. After a late night text from him, you make the drunken insomniac executive decision of calling him back. Naughtiness ensues.

Or: the one where you and Michael have phone sex.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, M/F. Minors DNI // PWP, P!rn With Feelings. Phone sex, flirting, teasing, sexual innuendos, dirty talking, mentions of oral sex (m. receiving), masturbation (m. and f.), sexual fantasies, role-playing scenarios, librarian k!nk, mentions of rough sex. // Blink-and-you-miss-it angst, alcohol use, mentions of insomnia, anxiety and self esteem issues.

Word count: 3.8k

Read below the cut OR on AO3

Notes: Reader wears glasses in this - don't look at me like that, it's integral to the plot 🙄

For the history nerds, the quote at the beginning is from the book "Fire from Heaven" by Mary Renault, about the relationship between Alexander the Great and his friend and lover, Hephaestion.

Enjoy! As always, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

His feelings were confused; he wanted to grasp till Alexander's very bones were somehow engulfed within himself, but knew this to be wicked and mad; he would kill anyone who harmed a hair of his head…

… you yawned at the page you’d been reading (i.e., staring at without absorbing a single bit of information), before turning your head to the nightstand and seeing the clock mark 2:49 am.

“Good god”, you whispered, tiredly rubbing your face with one hand, while the other reached for the half-full glass of red wine keeping you company in your insomnia.

Technically, you knew drinking was the last thing you should be doing on a weeknight, when you were having a hard time falling asleep and were expected at work in the morning. But living alone was really not helping you behave like a responsible adult with bills to pay. So, you slowly sip your wine, read your book, and hope that eventually your brain will give up and allow you to pass out for at least a few hours.

Suddenly, your phone lights up with a text. Michael B., it says on the screen. A pang of excitement hits you, and you immediately scoff for reacting so earnestly to a text from a guy you’ve been with (not even biblically, just the daytime coffee dates that people with busy lives manage to pack into a crazy week) for a grand total of two times and less than two hours, overall. Not pathetic at all.

Still, you can’t help but reach for the phone.

Hey, I know it’s late and you probably won’t read this until morning, sorry. Wanna have dinner at that spot we talked about? I can pick you up at the office ;) – M.

You smile, and without really thinking, hit the call button.

He picks up quickly, an amused tone in his voice. “Well, I was not expecting that. What the hell are you still doing up, princess? No work tomorrow?”

You laugh. “God, I wish. I just can’t sleep. Haven’t had one of these nights in a while… my brain won’t shut up, even though I’m so tired I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck”.

“Ooof. That fucking sucks.”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’m glad to be your booty call in this desperate time.”

“Michael”, you laugh so hard you choke on some wine and must set the glass back on the table. “I really don’t think that’s what this is”.

“Oh, no?”, he feigns innocence.

“No…”, chuckling, you continue with the most sultry, mock-seductive voice you can muster “… a booty call is if I was like: Sooo, Mikey… are you, like, busy right now? Do you wanna… come over? I’m aaall alone…”.

You make sure to put particular emphasis on the word ‘come’ and Mike sounds like he is doubling over with laughter. “That was the worst proposition I have ever heard, no doubt”.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re officially off my booty call list. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

“Ah, shit… I fucked up now, didn’t I?”, you swear you can hear his grin from the other end of the line. And see the laugh lines that form on the corner of his eyes when he smiles genuinely, the rare but so cute nose crinkle that makes your belly flutter…

You would love to get a fucking grip, thank you very much, but the wine was making you incapable of keeping a level head in this flirtation.

“Well… all is not lost. Taking me out to dinner is a good start to redeem yourself. If your game is on point tomorrow, your booty call list status might be revised… in the not-so-far future”, you add, suggestively.

“Shit. Now the stakes are on. I gotta be on my best behavior tomorrow, then”.

“I don’t know about best behavior…”. You feel like slapping yourself for your lack of subtlety.

He chuckles. “So… you like them a little nasty, huh?”

You’re glad he can’t see you blush furiously. “Not like that… but I do like a man who isn’t afraid to… take what he wants. Respectfully, of course.”

“Of course… damn, girl. You’re getting me thinking about all sorts of things…”

“Well, you’re the one who started talking about booty calls. It’s technically your fault”.

“That’s fucking rich. I was being a gentleman, sent you a sweet text and all. Not a single sex reference!”, he says, proudly.

“Ok, that is true”, you concede, laughing softly. “Are you still at the restaurant?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah… paperwork coming out of my eyeballs. I don’t even understand how the hell I organized this mess”. You hear rustling through the line, and imagine the mess of letters, invoices and bills that must be covering his office desk.

“That fucking sucks”.

“Word”. His chair squeaks loudly. “So… what are you wearing?”

You laugh. “You’re unbelievable”.

“What? I’m just trying to keep the conversation light, you know? Nobody wants to hear about my fuckin’ paperwork at 3 am”.

It was subtle, but you could sense something deeper in his words (sadness? self-deprecation?).

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about your ‘fuckin’ paperwork’ at any time of day, Michael”.

The line goes silent, and you fear you went too deep, too soon. Made this weird in record time, wow.

“I didn’t mean it like… I meant if you want to talk to me about your shitty day, you know, you can, but I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart. I get it… thank you for that”, he says, softly. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I honestly just wanna forget about this for a little while... I was really pumped when you called”.

“That’s okay. Really?” You smile, relieved.

“Yeah, really. So… wanna make a guy happy and tell him what you’re wearing?”

With a chuckle, you concede. “Well, nothing. I’m in bed and I sleep naked, so… yeah”.

There’s a heavy pause. “Holy shit. Are you for real?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Jesus, fuck… baby, you can’t say stuff like that and expect me to be normal about it”.

You grin, having just decided that, actually, you wanna play dirty.

“Who says I want you to be normal about it? Besides”, you throw back, suggestively, “I hardly think a woman can be held accountable for what she says after four glasses of wine on a Thursday night… naked and alone, in such a big bed…”

“Now, see, that was a much better pitch for a booty call than the first o-”

“I’m gonna hang up.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry”, he laughs.

“You’re an asshole”. Even as you say it, you’re smiling.

“And you are a minx, lady. Gettin’ a guy all worked up…”

“Oh, my... I don’t know what you mean…”, you whisper into the comforter, now balled up in your fist over your mouth, as if to cover up your blushing cheeks from an invisible audience.

“Oh, I disagree… I think you know exactly what you’re doing”. There’s a note of sarcasm in his voice you find exhilarating. A sudden noise – like a chair squeaking loudly on a panel floor – can be heard from his end. Followed by… a metallic rattle, more subtle but still clear. A… belt unbuckling?

Wait. Is he…?

You grin, amused. “Mr. Berzatto… I’m hearing suspicious noises. What is going on over there?”

A deep grunt. “Nothin’ much, sweetheart. Just making myself comfortable, is all”.

“And how exactly are you doing that, mister?”

“You know… freeing the junk.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Well, that certainly helps set the mood”.

“Hm… baby, can I ask you for something? It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna do it… but I figure I might as well shoot my shot.”

You notice you are sitting up very still against the pillows in your bed, holding your breath in anticipation. “Sure… what is it?”

A heavy pause follows. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat itself out of your ribcage, your throat feels dry, and your tongue sits heavy and thick in your mouth, the taste of wine suddenly overpowering your senses. And you are so horny.

“Could you… send me a photo of you right now? Are you wearing those new glasses?”. He sounds… eager, almost nervous with the way he trips over the second question.

Oh. Something clicks for you, then. You smile. “So, you really liked the new glasses, huh?”

“Shit… c’mon, don’t bust my balls about it”, he says, with an embarrassed chuckle of admission.

“I’m not! It’s very flattering, actually”. You hope you conveyed how much you are not making fun of him. However, you hate misunderstandings, and to dispel any that might be going on here, you decide there is only one acceptable solution.

“Give me a minute”, you tell him, determined. You don’t wait for an answer before you drop your phone and get to work.

Meanwhile, Mikey sits in his rusty office chair, in what he thinks must look like a very… undignified position. Cock out, right hand stroking it lazily, slumped back with his jeans barely down his ass, work shirt dirty and stinking of cooking oil, his entire body tense in a mix of anticipation and shame. A part of him can’t help but wonder if you are fucking with him: laughing from the other end of the line, leaving him hanging – literally and figuratively (he chuckles dejectedly at the realization that he still remembers something from high school Lit class). He guesses he would kinda deserve that. What type of freak asks for nudes after two… dates? Do those rapid-fire coffee-grabs even count? He is so shit at this. Anything more than a casual hook-up or a quickie behind a sleezy pub is rocket science for him. ‘Congrats, loser! You just fucked it, yet again’.

Then, his phone pings. 5 photos received.

In the first one, you are lying on your side, in bed, a dim warm light illuminating the scene. He can see the contours of your body clearly, despite being covered by a layer of nearly sheer white sheets. His gaze follows your exposed collarbone, to the silhouette of your breasts – he is sure you purposefully allowed a bit of side-boob to slip past the entrapment of sheets… just for him.

He swears he could stare at the shapes of your body all day and never get tired – or limp. His dick is throbbing painfully, now.

It does not get better when he sees the rest of the photos. Your face is visible, on those. The last two are his favorites. You are laying on your stomach, with the reading glasses on, as promised – except they sit lower on your nose than usual, so that your eyes peak out from over the top of the frames. Your hair is down, tousled and wild like it’s just gotten messed up. ‘Is this what she looks like after…’. You are holding a glass of wine to your mouth – lips plump and lightly tinged red – that detail drives him a little insane –, and in front of you lays a book, delicately held open with your other hand. And in the last photo, the sheets have slipped lower down your breasts, revealing a generous cleavage. You’re staring directly at the camera with an inquiring gaze, biting your lower lip. ‘Come get me’.

“… Mike? Are you still there?”

It’s been some time since you sent the photos (twenty seconds, which your anxiety tells you is actually half an hour), with no reaction from him. Your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly feel very silly and insecure. Are they even… good? What makes a good nude? Do these even qualify as nudes? You’re not showing anything super explicit… they’re suggestive, at best. Is he going to think you’re a prude? God, why is this so diff-

Mike clears his throat. “Yeah, I… fuck. Fuckin’ hell. Holy shit. Sweetheart… these are so hot. Jesus… thank you so much. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous…”. The last part comes out as a whisper, like he’s starstruck.  

You didn’t know it was possible to get more flustered than you already were. “You’re welcome… I’m flattered I managed to make Michael Berzatto incoherent over some low-res thirst trap selfies.”

“Baby, these are genuinely the hottest pics I’ve ever seen. You look like a hot librarian or something”.

You laugh out loud, triumphantly. “Ah! I knew it!”

“What?”, he laughs along.

“Something you wanna share with the class, Mr. Berzatto?”.

“Fuck, don’t stop calling me that, sweetheart”, he says, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah?”, you whisper.

“Fuck, yeah. It’s just… I’ve got a thing for girls with a kinda nerdy, librarian type of vibe, you know? And when I saw you this last time, holding a book and wearing your reading glasses… I gotta admit, my mind went straight to the gutter.”

Interesting. “Really? What did you imagine then?”.

A pause. “I’m not sure you want to hear it… I don’t want you thinking I’m a pervert or something”.

You sigh. “Mikey, I just sent you near-naked photos of me. We’re having phone sex. We are two horny adults having fun. Besides…”, you switch your tone to what you hope comes across as faux innocence, “… I asked you about it. It is kinda my fault, right? I guess I was kind of… bad”.

“Oh, is that what’s happening?”. He chuckles, as if saying challenge accepted. “Alright, then. When I saw you like that for the first time, this image popped into my head, right? I mean, you looked like a really hot librarian. So, I started picturing you in that scenario, with big glasses and all – just like the photos you sent me… except you had your hair in a cute ponytail, and your lips were even redder with lipstick… and you were wearing fishnet stockings up to your thighs – fuck, you got such nice legs, baby –, and you had a pair of those… what are they called. Uh, kitten heels. Yeah. Fuck, your ass would look unbelievable like that. I mean, it is unbelievable, you know what I mean? When you show up at the restaurant wearing those cute little dresses and skirts, I feel my dick twitching in my pants… that’s how hot you are, baby… that’s how crazy you make me feel.”

His words were streaming out like an avalanche – a filthy stream-of-consciousness. Flash images of all the times you were together pop into your mind. He was always nice and polite to you, if cheeky – that was his personality, after all. You’d never felt disrespected or threatened around him. Maybe that’s why, now that you knew he had been actively thinking about you like this… you were very turned on.

“Too much, sweetheart? You wanna keep listening to this filth?”

“… yeah, Mikey. Keep going. What happened then?”

“Then, I took you to a hidden corner in the library, rucked up your pretty little skirt and ripped your real nice dress shirt open… you know, so I could suck on your tits while I fucked you hard against some shelves. Didn’t even need to rip your panties off, ‘cause you weren’t wearing any. Just lifted you up and slammed my cock right into your pussy… God, you were drippin’ wet for me, and you mewled so sweetly… loud, too. Had to shove my fingers into your pretty mouth to keep you quiet. That’s what I imagined, sweetheart. More or less.”

The crass and vivid way in which he described his fantasy made you speechless. It was exhilarating. Knowing that all those times he had talked to you with a straight face, he had been actively fantasizing about fucking you hard. His words.

“Jesus Christ, Mikey”, you breathe out. “That’s… I can’t believe we had entire conversations while you had a cheap porn flick playing in your head”, you laugh softly, unconvincingly.

He sighed deeply. “See, I knew this was a bad idea… honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit. I guess I’m just a fucking perv-”

“Babe…”, you interrupt him, gentle, but firm, “shut up, please. I’m messing with you. I told you, it’s very flattering that you’re attracted to me. In fact… it’s super hot. Knowing you were having all those dirty thoughts about me while still being a gentleman… is making me feel all kinds of things, right now.”

“Yeah? What kinds of things?”

“Good things, Mikey… I’m so wet right now”, you mewl, the need for release in your core overwhelming the embarrassment you would be feeling otherwise. Without thinking, you kick the sheets away from your body and cup one of your breasts, kneading it and flicking your nipple – a moan leaves your mouth in a desperate plea.

“Fuck”, he whispers, “you got wet over that filth? Jesus Christ, baby. I won the fuckin’ lottery”.

You are burning with desire, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you finally give in, sliding one hand down and shoving two fingers inside with barely any resistance. “Mikey… I wanna come so bad. Can you talk me through it… please?”

“Fuck… yeah, sweetheart, anything you want”. He moans, then, and you don’t think you have ever been so turned on in your life. Mikey Berzatto, a horny, moaning mess, jerking off in his mess of an office at 3 am… because of you.

Chicago’s Helen of Troy. You chuckled softly at the thought and decided to up the ante. “Baby… do you know what I was thinking when you were telling that beautiful story just now?”

He laughs, voice recked. “What, baby?”

You pout, and add another finger in, increasing the pace of the thrusts. “I wish you had pictured kissing me real hard, while I unbuckled your belt… would you let me get down on my knees for you, baby? I really wanna have you in my mouth, Mikey, like, right now”. Your words come out broken, sentences all messed up – you sound pathetic, but you are so past caring.

“Shit-”, a gasp, followed by a deep breath and the noise of something hitting a surface really hard. “… holy shit. Baby, I imagined all that and a whole lot more – seriously, you have no idea. Hell, if the lady wants to suck my dick, who am I to deny her, uh? Fuck. Would you let me fuck your mouth, baby…?”

You moan loudly at that and realize you need both hands, putting the phone on speaker – fuck the neighbors – and bringing your other hand to your clit, rubbing lightly, but fast. You were so close. The thought of kneeling on the floor, clothes and hair all messed up from Mikey’s hands, lipstick smudged… looking up at him, and watching his composure unravel because of you…

“Hm… yeah, Mikey, I think I would… ‘cause you’re so nice to me… such a gentleman, even when you’re fucking me hard… would you ask me real nice, baby? Hold my face gently in your big hands, while you fuck it?”

“Fuck, baby… I would treat you so right, you deserve everything-”, he chokes up and, for a few moments, you hear a distant cacophony of noises, like he’s put the phone down. Then, he’s back. “Sorry, sweetheart, I need both hands now”, he chuckles.

You giggle, “Me too… you got me so hot I’m fucking myself on my fingers and rubbing my clit at the same time… and it’s still not enough. I need you…”

“Fuck, that’s so hot. You fuckin’ yourself because of me… I know it’s not enough, baby… you need my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes! Mikey… please…”, you howl, completely out of your mind.

“How do you want me to fuck you, baby? Hm? Want it nice and slow? Nah… I think you like it fast and rough, don’t you? Long as I keep kissing you real good, touchin’ you real gentle, all over your body… you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”. How he manages to say such filthy things with so much honey dripping from every syllable, is beyond you.

“Yeah, fuck, baby… it doesn’t matter. I’m so wet already, you don’t need to do anything else, just hoist me up in your arms and pin me against the shelves… and shove it in me”.

You are still holding onto a shred of decency because you blush at your own crass admission – still, there is clearly not a whole lot left, as you start rubbing your clit and fucking yourself harder and faster. “I don’t want you to be gentle when you fuck me… I just need to feel your cock stretch me open… wanna feel the sting of it for days, be at work and not be able to focus because all I can think about is how you fucked me so good-”

At this point, you have no idea if he can understand anything you’re saying, because your words are intercut with moans and gasps and mewls and incoherent babble, as you’re about to reach your peak imagining Mikey’s on top of you, railing you into the bed.

“Baby, I’m gonna come… fuckin’ Christ”.

“Mikey- fuck!”.

Your body shakes and your eyes roll back from the strength of your orgasm. Distantly, your brain registers a broken string of moans and curses from the other end of the line.

A few seconds pass, and you feel yourself coming back down to Earth. You lazily stretch out on the bed, completely relaxed and fucked out. “That’s so cute… we came at the same time, babe”, you happily whisper, a ditsy smile on your face.

He huffs, amused “Yeah… what can I say? I’m a romantic at heart”.

You laugh sincerely. “This was… so good, actually. I’m glad I gave into my instinct and called you”.

“Well, I’m even more sticky now”. You both laugh at that. “But I’m also glad you called… like, really glad. Uh, can I ask you something?”

You notice a shift in his voice.

“Yeah… what is it?”

“I don’t want things to get weird between us after this… Like, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do all these things to get me off. You know what I mean? It’s just a fantasy… I’ll have you in any way you want me. Okay?”

You feel a tightness in your chest, and you wish, not for the first time tonight, you had him right in front of you so you could kiss him all over and hug him.

“Mikey… I genuinely liked tonight. And the more we talk, the more I like you. You’re not the only one who feels like you won the lottery…”.

“Baby… you’re too sweet. Don’t you think you already got me blushing enough for one night?”

“That’s fucking rich. I must’ve gone through all shades of red tonight, because of your filthy mouth”.

“Please. You loved it”, he chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess I did”, you concede, with a smile.

After saying goodbye – and confirming that yes, you would very much like for him to pick you up and take you to dinner later – you fall asleep fast, your mind finally catching up to the pleasant tiredness in your body, a soft smile on your lips.

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 3

A Negan Series

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings - not too much in this one. Adult themes and some language.

Feedback is always welcome! This series is challenging me for sure, and I'm loving it. Every time I work on it it gets a little longer and starts heading a direction that was unexpected even to me. I hope you'll hang in with me! I think it'll be worth it in the end.

Three days. That’s how long she’d been here. Three days of watching, waiting, learning. Three exhausting days of pretending to want to be one of them and taking advantage of every second alone to search for Daryl, which hadn’t been many. Between the dinners with Negan, and being stuck in the wives’ room, she had only had a few hours yesteday and today to explore. Three damn days in the enemy’s home and all she had to show for it was a wedding ring. Married to a monster.

She had searched every hall she could reasonably claim that she’d gotten lost in while looking her room, or the bathroom, or the kitchen, or whatever else she could think of. After three days, that excuse was losing merit - she should be more familiar with this place by now. Her heart was racing as she tiptoed, barefoot, down another empty hall of closed doors, quietly trying each doorknob. Locked. Locked. Locked. Leaning her ear against the doors, she couldn’t hear anything or anyone inside.

She tried the next. Another locked door. She was starting to lose heart; this hall was yet again a dead end. Would she ever find where they were keeping him? She twisted the next knob – locked. She sighed, glancing at the next door, when something caught her eye. Light. Two doors down at the corner of the corridor, streaming into the hall from…an open door? She flattened herself against the door in front of her, quieting her breath and listening for any sound of someone in the open room. After several minutes frozen there, she tiptoed closer, stopping every few steps to listen again. As she approached, she noticed a red chair against the opposite wall. It sat empty, facing the open door. Flattened against the wall at the edge of the door she paused one last time, before slowly creeping around to peer in.

The apartment before her was small. There was a sink and counters against one wall, a single bed, a chair, and a metal rack of clothes – mostly flannel button down shirts. No people. She ducked inside to get a better look. The apartment was well stocked. A toaster oven, a tv, lamps, a bookcase full of books, and she noticed a few potted plants. The furniture was well used, but slightly dusty. There was no evidence of anything personal in this room, nothing bought or collected like the other rooms she’d snuck into. No evidence anyone had been here recently. This room was waiting for an inhabitant, she realized. She was about to turn and leave when she heard footsteps coming around the corner. Low voices, male, were growing closer.

Her heart racing, she quickly surveyed the room again, this time searching for the best hiding spot. Under the bed wasn’t an option, the mattress was laid on stacks of wood crates. There were not enough clothes on the rack to hide behind. The cabinets on the wall were too small for her to fold into. The footsteps were getting closer, she only had one option.

She ducked behind the solid door just as she heard a voice greet the approaching steps. “Dwighty boy” she heard, and dread filled her. That was Negan’s voice.  He instructed someone to leave so he could speak with Dwight, and she heard rustling of steps outside the door. She squeezed in close and peeked through the crack of the open hinged door. Her heart stopped.

There he was. Daryl. Three days, not even a hint or whisper of him, and now here he was, less than four feet away from her.

---

She’d hoped when Negan had agreed on her first night to let her try out for the Saviors that she’d be able to ask someone about Daryl. Or that she’d be able to talk to any of them at all, learn anything about the place. She’d had no such luck.

She awoke on her second day in the Sanctuary hopeful and eager to start exploring. She dressed in the most practical clothes she could find in her wardrobe, and even asked the guard at the wives’ door for some boots. He’d obtained them for her, just in time to dawn them before… sitting. And waiting. And waiting. She asked him if she’d been sent any instructions on where to go or who to meet with about training or a job. He told her that her orders would come. So, she’d continued to wait.

The wives had pulled her into different activities in the meantime. Scrabble was a favorite of Frankie’s, and they introduced her to their “spa day” ritual, which she gathered was every day. Homemade face masks, manicures, makeup before dinner. It seemed expected of them to be beautiful, and at least it was a way to pass the time. Her impatience grew, however, with every hour that passed. Each wife often left the dorm to walk around the compound, getting some movement and some air, or smoke a cigarette. They seemed to have unquestioned access to wherever they needed to go. She took advantage of that when it was obvious that she wouldn’t be missed. She’d come up empty handed on those brief searches, and each time she returned, she’d asked the guard if her orders had come. He’d just shook his head.

By the time the instructions came for her to join Negan for dinner a second night, she was fuming.

She stomped into his apartment with as much attitude as her high heels would allow, her arms crossed, demanding to know why she had been cooped up in that room all day when he’d agreed to let her be part of a Savior team.

Negan’s answering smile didn’t meet his eyes, and it made her uneasy.

“Good evening to you, too,” he drawled, holding out her chair at the table for her. “Would you like to eat before you continue to rip me a new asshole, or should we do this on empty stomachs?”

She huffed as she sat and began piling her plate with the potpie in front of her.

“We’ve only been married for a day and you’re already angry with me?” Negan teased her.

She willed herself calm and forced an apologetic smile on her face. She needed to stay on his good side, throwing a fit this early might raise questions or make him change his mind about her access. She needed Negan to trust her.

“I’m sorry,” she began, “I have always had a quick temper. I told you, I’m not great at sitting around. I got impatient. I apologize.”

Again, his answering smile didn’t meet his eyes, but he seemed satisfied with her apology.

“I’d like to play a game to start our evening,” he said after a quiet few minutes of eating. “To get to know one another a little better. We are married now, after all.”

“What game?” she asked around a mouthful.

“A drinking game,” he replied, standing and walking to his bar cart in the corner. When he returned, he brought two shot glasses and a decanter of an amber colored liquid.  “I’ll ask you a question, and if you answer - honestly - you get to ask me a question in return. If you don’t answer, or if I think your answer is unsatisfactory, you take a shot and I get to ask another question.”

“I see. And do the same rules apply to you?”

“Sure,” he replied, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I take the rules of games very seriously.”

This made her nervous. She had no way of knowing what he would ask. She could always skip the question if she didn't like it, but too many questions skipped would certainly raise suspicions. She steeled herself as she took her last few bites of food, preparing for the worst.

When she raised her head, she found Negan watching her. She nodded and plastered a smile to her face.

“Sounds sexy. Let’s play.”

He grinned as he poured two shot glasses of the drink and slid one across the table to her.

“My first question,” he said, “is how long were you part of Rick’s group?”

She silently released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She felt a little relief at how simple the question was. She recounted the basic story of coming upon Rick's group in a small church in Georgia several weeks before they found Alexandria, and traveling with them to Virginia, looking for the family of one of their guys.

“How did you all find Alexandria?” Negan asked as her short story came to an end.

“I think it’s my turn for a question,” she teased him, “unless you want to skip that do a shot?”

He grinned in response and gestured for her to ask her question.

This was more pressure than answering. It was a good opportunity to get information, maybe even find out where Daryl is, if she could ask casually enough... She would have to be very careful how she approached it. She decided to start slowly, not too eager to get telling information from him.

“How many communities do you have working for you?” She asked, after some contemplation. Maybe a train of questions that make her seem curious about his operation would seem less suspicious when she got to Daryl.

“A lot,” he answered proudly, “I won't waste time counting them all. It’s a lot though. It has to be, to feed all our people.” A lot. There were a lot of other communities nearby. Potential allies. She filed that information away for later.

“How did your group find Alexandria?” He asked again, now that it was his turn.

“They found us. Their scouts had been watching us on the road. All but starved to death, desperate, and nearly feral. They took us in and gave us jobs. Have you always been the leader of the Saviors?”

Negan’s dark eyes stared at his glass for a long minute. She wasn’t sure he was going to answer, when he finally said, “No, but the guy before me was weak, he didn’t know what he was doing. It’s been me for long enough, and we’re all better for it. You’ve seen what we’ve become. I got us here.”

There was a pause as she took in what he said. He wasn’t wrong. She didn't really want to be here, but she had to admit that it worked. People were safe and fed, and there was a sense of order. Had she found this before Rick’s group, she wouldn’t have hesitated to become part of it.

“If you only got there a month ago, how did Rick end up in charge?” Negan asked.

“Who said Rick was in charge?” she countered.

Negan gave her a pointed look.

“It wasn’t on purpose, necessarily. There was an attack from some crazy outside group – not your guys. A bunch of walkers got past the walls; lost a lot of people - including the town’s leader. Rick is just the sort of guy that others follow, so the natural option was for him to step into the role.”

She hesitated a moment. “What’s your plan for them?” she asked, risking the question. Hoping it felt like an organic follow up. Negan drained his shotglass, not giving anything away. Damn. “What’s your plan for Daryl?” she was risking even more, now, but she wasn’t sure she’d have an opening again.

“I lost a lot of good fighters,” he answered. “I need more, and I like his spirit. He’ll make a great Savior once I wear him down.” She buried the dread that rose in her at his words and willed her heart to stop pounding.

Now his turn, Negan asked her “Who is Rick’s secondhand man?”

Realization hit her like a slap to the face. She should have guessed sooner his purpose for playing this game. She’d been blind, too focused on her own agenda to bother considering his. She’d have to be more careful about her answers now. If she revealed too much about Rick or Alexandria, she could put her friends in even more danger.

“All these questions about Rick…” she said, with a raised eyebrow and a hint of seduction in her voice, “I’m starting to feel a little jealous…” She took her glass and threw the shot to the back of her throat. She coughed a little as she swallowed. Whiskey had always done that to her.

Negan searched her face before grinning and continuing, “I would hate to have my new wife feeling neglected this soon. Tell me, what did you do before the world fell?”

“That's more like it,” she said with a slight curl of her lip. “Although a little difficult to answer. I worked a lot of jobs; I was putting myself through grad school. Took as many part-time jobs as I could.  I had two semesters left, and was already working on my thesis when the outbreak began.”

“Psychology,” she added, as she saw him start to speak again. He confirmed that was his next question with a slight nod of his head. “Same question to you,” she asked, settling back in her chair to keep the room from spinning. She hadn’t done a shot in ages, and her time on the road left her smaller than she ever was during her college partying era. Another shot or two and she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to answer anymore questions.

“I worked with kids,” Negan responded. “Gym teacher and coach.”

She didn’t try to hide a look of surprise, which made Negan chuckle. “I get that a lot when I answer that question.” She would have to work through that information later, figure out what that said about him as a person. The types of people who chose teaching positions… well, it begged the question what had happened to form him into... this? She didn’t have time to flesh that thought out as Negan launched into his next inquiry.

“You studied psychology, and you spent some decent time with him… if you were me, what would your next move against Rick be?”

Shit. She walked right into that one. How was she so off her game tonight?

She searched his face for a minute, took the decanter of whiskey and filled her glass. She met his glare as she gulped the shot down, stifling her cough this time. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she said, “I left their group to join you, but I don’t hate them. I’ll follow orders out there, but you can’t expect me to plot against them in here.”

Negan chewed his lip as he studied her, narrowing his eyes. She waited for his next question or her dismissal. She hoped for the latter.

“If you were me, what would your next move against Rick be?” he asked again, a malicious tone encroaching his voice.

She filled her glass again, but Negan’s hand appeared on its rim, pressing it to the table as she tried to lift it. “I’d like you to answer this one.” He said, threat in his voice despite the polite smile he wore.

As she made to protest, he cut her off. “You see, you asked to be more than just my wife - which stung a little, I won’t lie. But I am a generous husband, I like my wives to be happy. They always did say, ‘happy wife, happy life.’ I’m not one to argue with an age-old adage, but in order to do that for you, to make you happy… give you a job, if that’s really what you want… I gotta know what value you bring. I gotta know if you can do more than just take orders - I have enough obedient dogs out there. You’ve seen the way they bow to me. I don’t need another dog. What I need… is a wolf. A wolf, or a wife. The choice is yours.”

She stared at him, working to keep the rage she felt from burning through her glare. Bastard.

“I’ll give you until dinner tomorrow. Come back with something good, and I do mean something impressive, or settle in as a stay home wife, dear. You asked what I’ll do with Daryl – I guess you get to make that decision. I’d like him to become one of us, but what I need is information, and if you don’t give it, then I’ll get it from him however I have to."

"You’re dismissed.”

---

She’d played that conversation over in her head too many times to count since returning to her room last night. She worked through all her options, even options that weren’t options. How could she live with herself if she gave him all her friends’ weaknesses? How could she live with herself if she didn’t?

Seeing Daryl now, slumped in that red chair, staring into the room she hid in - her heart broke. He was filthy, his hair a level of greasy that was bad even for Daryl. His eyes were cloudy, dark bags hanging under them like he hadn’t slept in days. She shuddered to think what could put him in such a state - her strong, tough Daryl. She knew he wasn’t breaking, but she couldn’t tell how much he had left in him. He was so ragged, so run down.

Her decision was made. She wouldn’t be the cause of more pain for him. She could never forgive herself for that. For him, she could turn into whatever she needed to be. For him, she could be a wolf.

They’d see just how much of a wolf she was.

This is so precious ♥️

You made me dance in the kitchen with you | D.D

Description: It's early morning, and the reader makes Daryl dance in the kitchen with her before the sun is up.

Warnings: none!

His hands were placed on her waist heavily, his body the most relaxed it's been in months. He can't quite remember how they ended up this way. Swaying to the sound of the record playing in the next room over, his hands on her innocently, her arms around his neck like he was something to be held, loved, and cherished. No, he isn't sure how they got here, but if this moment could last forever, he swears he'd never feel unhappy again.

The air outside was thick and foggy. No one would be up for a few more hours. The candle sat dimly on the stove. It provided more light than the early morning sky. This moment was theirs alone. No one else existed now. Only Daryl and her.

These were the moments he lived for. These quiet moments were what kept him grounded. Being vulnerable and gentle and loving with her and her only. He didn't have to be a hero. He didn't have to be saving someone's life or driving a knife through the skulls of the dead. He wasn't covered in sweat and blood or tears or mud. He could simply exist in the arms of his favorite person in the world.

"You hungry?" She hums, her voice muffled in his chest.

He doesn't lift his head from where it rests on hers when he speaks. "I could eat," He whispers, hoping she'll let them stay here for a few more minutes. He's scared that he'll have to return to reality if this moment ends. The reality where at any given moment, he could lose her forever.

"Pancakes sound okay?"

He nods slowly, his eyes still closed. Anything sounded okay as long as it was with her, but he'd never let her know that he felt this strongly. It wasn't in his nature.

"Okay," She says softly, head still resting against his chest as the song begins to repeat once again.

Daryl holds her closer to him, and she smiles.

----

Inspired by the line "You made me dance in the kitchen with you" from the song The kitchen by Tow'rs

This has to be another of my favorite Daryl fics I've written!!

Me: yeah, I’ve weirdly always had a thing for guys with long hair. I don’t know why ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

My childhood:

Y’all gonna make me feel old.

it used to be 2007 you know

I dream about Jareth, sometimes. I always wake up aching for that world and this man.

Labyrinth - 1986

Me posting on tumblr:

This was heartbreaking 💔

He’s so tender. I just want them to hold each other!

Look for the Light - 5

Masterlist

Summary: Four years ago, Joel saved you from certain death. In return, you followed him faithfully. Always ready to do and give him whatever he asked, despite the hurt it inflicted on you, body and soul. Agreeing to go with him to deliver Ellie to the Fireflies… this would be the last time you’d follow him… After this, your debt would be paid.

Relationships: Reader x Joel Miller, Joel Miller & Ellie, Reader & Ellie

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose to give none. Read at your own risk. 18+ (So excited to share this with you. So much to come folks! 🙊😍)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You watched Joel from your seat beside the fire. The stone wall at your back does little to keep back the biting cold. You knew you must be close to where Tommy's last known location was and your mind started to wander as to what the plan was once you found him. Joel was so certain that his brother would lead them to the fireflies and yet believed that unlikely. The man had left them for a reason.

"You two ever going to speak again?" Ellie piped up, pulling your attention away from Joel.

"Ellie." You warned but the teenager scoffed.

"You two have barely spoken a word to each other since..." She trailed off, knowing the subject was still raw for you "You can't keep going on like this."

"I have his back when he needs it and he has mine... we don't need to speak to each other to achieve that."

"He's hurting too." Ellie pushed and you rolled your eyes at her "He is."

"Drop it, Ellie." You grumbled "Get some sleep. Early start ahead."

The teenager didn't push and you were glad of that. The two of you pulled out your blankets and settled down for the night, knowing Joel wouldn't allow either one of you to take the watch. Your eyes drifted to the man whose eyes scanned the darkened landscape, heart aching a little at the thought that he felt even a small semblance of pain to what had happened.

Little did you know, Joel was heartbroken. That day haunted his dreams and robbed him of his ability to sleep. Your tear-filled eyes and bloody hands were permanently seared into his memory, forever torturing him.

Joel fought to keep his tears at bay as he stripped away your soiled jeans. There was so much blood. He feared for your life if you lost much more. He knew that miscarriages could be dangerous when heavy bleeding was involved and this... this he felt fit those symptoms. Your skin was pale and your eyes looked sunken. Like you'd not slept in days and he supposed that to an extent, you probably hadn't.

"Is she losing the baby?" Ellie asked, her eyes wide as she watched the man throw the ruined garment away.

"Fetch me some water." He asked, knowing that the taps still worked in the abandoned motel.

"Joel-"

Just do as I ask Ellie." He snapped, voice wobbling a little as he looked at the teenager with an expression she found hard to read.

She didn't argue then. Rummaging through your pack, she grabbed one of the tins and ran to the bathroom, filling the vestibule with water before grabbing an old towel hanging beside the sink.

"Here." She said when she'd made her way back, handing the water and towel to Joel before sitting down on the bed beside you "You're okay." She said softly as she stroked the hair out of your face "Joel's gonna clean you up and then we'll move you to my bed so you can get some sleep."

"Ellie-" You choked but the girl just hushed you, cradling your head in her arms and pulling it to her chest.

Joel watched out of the corner of his eye whilst he worked to clean away the blood that painted your thighs. He was unable to stop his hands from shaking as he worked. His heart was breaking. Despite how he'd reacted when you'd told him the news, he had since come around to the idea that he was to have a baby with you.

He had started to picture what they would look like. He'd imagined another daughter. His curly brown hair and your eyes. He'd started to picture you, round with his child and how you'd glow. It was a picture that now had burned away. Disappearing in a puff of smoke. He knew you were never going to be the same after this.

And neither was he.

When he was done cleaning you up, he lifted you into his arms and carried you into the room Ellie had slept in that night. He was glad you'd fallen asleep or you would have seen the bodies of Henry and Sam still laying there.

Once you were settled in the bed, he went to work burying the boys. Needing some time away from the devastation inside. Ellie had gone in search of some clothes that might fit you. Your jean were beyond saving. He knew that eventually, he'd need to speak to you about what had happened but he would wait until you were ready.

However long that was.

"Here." Said Joel as he handed you a mug, coffee steaming within.

You nodded your thanks then returned to starting at the landscape beyond, bringing the mug to your lips so you could blow on its contents. Joel lingered a moment, looking at you longingly, praying that you would spare him at least one glance but you didn't. You just sipped your twenty-year-old coffee and paid him no heed.

You had barely spoken to him at all since leaving the motel two weeks ago. He didn't push you to speak to him. Your interactions with Ellie had remained the same but with him, they had ceased completely. He was in agony. The longer you froze him out, the more his heart cracked. He was sure that if this went on much longer it would shatter completely and he would surely bleed out.

You noticed him walk away from the corner of your eye and you breathed a sigh of relief at his retreat. You weren't sure what he wanted from you. He got what he wanted. The baby was gone. Did he expect you to want to talk about it? Join him in his relief? All you wanted to do now was achieve your mission so you could be rid of him. The reminder of what you lost.

"You gonna be pissed at him forever?" Ellie asked as she plonked herself next to you.

"Maybe." You replied curtly, eyes remaining fixed ahead.

"It's not his fault you know." She stated and this grabbed your attention "You losing the baby isn't his fault."

"That's not-"

"You can't blame him for what happened." Ellie pushed and you sighed "You'll need to talk to him eventually."

"I know." You grumbled, scrapping a hand over your face before sipping at the coffee Joel had made you "I will. I just... I need some time."

"Understandable." Ellie replied, giving you a warm smile "Just don't leave it too long."

It was later that night when Ellie had fallen asleep that you had decided to break your silence. Joel was perched on a fallen tree trunk, gun in hand as he scanned the woodland that surrounded you. You sat yourself down at the other end, not wanting to be too close to him, and then you spoke.

"I can take the watch tonight." You piped up, taking Joel by surprise "You could do with some sleep."

"It's fine, you go ahead." Joel replied, shaking his head at you "Don't sleep much these days anyway."

"Joel, you can't keep going on like this." You argued and this grabbed his attention "You have to let us help you."

"You know, that's might rich of you to say." Joel grumbled, turning his body to face you "Seein' as you don't seem to want to speak to me anymore."

"Joel-"

"I know you're hurtin' and I understand but-"

"Understand?" You spat, eyes growing wide in disbelief "How could you possibly understand this?"

"I lost a child once before... remember?" He said, his voice lowered in an attempt to keep this conversation out of Ellie's ears "I understand how much you're hurtin' but you have to let me in."

"You didn't even want it." You growled, eyes cold as you stared back at him "I bet you're relieved!"

"I'm not." He growled, his face hardening at your accusation "But we both know that it was probably for the best." He continued "What sort of life could we have offered them?"

"I would have loved them." You sobbed "Nurtured them. I would have given all I had to give them a good life but that opportunity was taken away from me."

Joel stared at you with wide eyes. His heart ached to tell you that he was just as heartbroken as you. That he had hoped, after delivering Ellie to the fireflies, you and he would find somewhere to settle to raise your baby together. Instead, he watched you as you cried, hand resting on where your child had once rested and he found himself unable to say anything. You scoffed at his lack of response, cementing your belief that he was relieved you had lost the baby.

Watching you walk away, sobbing, his heart broke all over again. He had lost you once and for all.

You admired the river that carved its path through the landscape on your right. The landscape was something you'd read about in the books that had survived the apocalypse.

"Look at that river. It's crazy blue." Said Ellie as she too admired the wilderness surrounding you all "Hey, Joel... what if this is the River of Death?"

This made you a Joel pause. The words of that couple echoed in your brain as you share a look with the older man.

"What's past the river?" Ellie had asked and she had replied

"Death."

Horses whinnying, made you jump from your skin and you grabbed your gun as Joel pushed Ellie back.

"Get behind me." Joel ordered, studying their mounted foes and coming to the conclusion that fighting them wasn't an option "We ain't lookin' for any trouble. We're just passin' through."

"Drop the guns." One of them ordered and both complied, raising your hands above your head once you had "You... take five steps back."

"How 'bout we just talk this through?" Joel said calmly, desperate to placate the situation.

"How 'bout you shut the fսck up?" The man spat and you flinched at his tone, heart thumping wildly in your chest.

"Okay, easy. You'll be okay."

"You been near Infected?" The man demanded and you scoffed.

"There's no Infected out here." You piped up and the group all looked at you.

"The hell there ain't." The man replied before whistling, a dog barking then it trotted into view "Last chance for a bullet. If you've been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.

The dog sniffed at Joel's legs before moving on to you. The animal grunted when it was satisfied that neither of you was infected.

"Like I said... we'll just move on." Joel said as he looked from the dog to the man that owned it.

"Now her." He said, motioning at Ellie and Joel felt his heart start to race. Low growling echoed in his ears and yet he found himself glued to the spot. Unable to do anything but wait for what came next.

"Hi. Hi." She giggled, the dog licking her face and Joel turned to see the girl grinning at him.

The man whistled, pulling the dog back to his side and Joel felt his heart slow again. His eyes returned to the leader of the group.

"You just bought yourself 10 more seconds. What are you doin' out here?"

"I'm just lookin' for my brother. That's all, nothin' more." Joel replied, his expression almost pleading.

"Hо! What's your name?" Asked a woman, pulling down the fabric that covered her face.

"Joel."

"Get them on some horses."

"But-"

"Just do it." She ordered "They're coming with us."

You mounted the horse given to you, Ellie joining you on yours as Joel gets on his own. The three of you then followed the group for a short while. Not a word was shared between anyone until you reached a set of tall wooden gates, flanked on either side by a wall just as high.

The gates opened. Revealing a bustling town that looked like it had never been touched by the tragedy that had torn the world to shreds. It reminded you of where you'd grown up. Just on the border of Canada. The wooden buildings felt familiar to you and you felt safe for the first time in years. Children laughed around you. People sang Christmas carols as they gathered around a tree that stood proudly in the square.

"TOMMY!" Joel's shouting pulled your attention away from the town and you watched the man leap from his horse and sprint towards a man you recognised as Tommy.

He didn't appear to have aged since you'd seen him last, unlike Joel.

"What the fսck you doin' here?" He asked, pulling back from his embrace with his brother to look at him better.

"I came here to save you," Joel replied, the two brothers sharing a look before he pulled him into a hug again.

The sight stirred something you'd thought long dead.

Affection.

The three of you were then led to a canteen-like space where you were served a piping hot meal and the cleanest water you'd tasted in years. Then, after Joel scorned Ellie for her manners and you'd all learned that Tommy was now married to the woman who'd brought you to town. A woman who went by the name of Maria. She then proceeded to give you a tour of the town before Maria took Ellie to the house they'd allocated them and you and Joel went to the town bar to catch up.

You weren't sure why Tommy had insisted you come. You weren't family. You suspected he hoped it would soothe over the grilling he knew he was inevitably going to receive from Joel. You knew differently.

"Been a long time." Chuckled as he stroked the polished wooden bar.

"I've never been in a bar." You teased, surprised at how relaxed you now found yourself.

"Shut up." The brothers replied in unison, making you smirk at them.

"Doesn't seem like you aged much." Joel said as he returned his attention to his brother, watching as he poured you both a glass of amber liquid.

"You, on the other hand." Tommy said, winking at you before pushing the glasses towards you and Joel "Thanks for still givin' a shit about me." He toasted, smiling at Joel before sipping his drink.

Joel's mouth formed a pouty 'O' as he looked from the glass to his brother. A silent conversation passed between the two men.

"Workin' on raisin' some hogs, too. Once we get bacon, I mean, what's even left?"

"Pshoo." Joel laughed "Christmas trees and bacon? Pretty decent setup." Joel said as he stood and walked over to the fireplace across from the bar. Studying the pictures sat on the mantle.

"So, how's Tess?" Tommy asked as his gaze flitted between you and Joel.

"She's fine. All right." Joel replied, taking you by surprise so you opted to keep your mouth shut. The man knew what he was doing.

"Good then. And the kid?" Pushed and Joel once again answered before you had a chance to open your mouth.

"Oh, yeah. She’s the daughter of some Firefly muckety-muck... Try'na find her family somewhere out here. I was headin' in this direction, so..."

"Really? Goodness of your heart?" Tommy scoffed, his gaze drifting to you.

"There's a payment." You replied, watching as his eyes squinted at you. "So you know where they might be? These Fireflies?" You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

"Well, they got a base down at the University of Eastern Colorado. It's, uh, a week's ride south. But it is severely fսckеd up between here and there. Infected... raiders." Tommy stated, his gaze returning to his brother "It’s not exactly an easy trip."

"It’ll be easy for us, seeing as how you can headshot Infected from half a mile away, which is a bunch of bullshit, by the way." You chuckled at Joel's statement, remembering how good a shot Tommy had been back in the day.

"Yeah, I can’t go."

"Oh, come on." You chuckled, sure that Tommy was having you both on. "I made it across the country."

"The two of us can make it from here to Colorado." Joel pushed, brows pulled together as he studied his brother's boy language closely. "What, ’cause your wife won’t let you?"

"They’re good people." Tommy argued "They didn’t have to take me in, but they did. And all they ask is that I follow their rules."

"I’m your brother." Joel growled, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Yeah, I’m aware." Tommy scoffed "They’re very protective of this place, and for good fuckin’ reason." The younger man continued, sipping his drink again "I mean, folks find out we’re up here…"

"No, we heard." Joel interrupted and Tommy sighed.

"Wrong people might show up."

"So is that what we are? Are we the wrong people?" He asked, motioning between you and him.

"Joel…"

"Those things I did, Tommy, those things that you judge me for, I did those things to keep us alive." Joel spat, edging closer to his sibling.

"We did those things." Tommy snarled "And they weren’t 'things.' We murdered people... And I don’t judge you for it." Tommy paused, letting out a sigh as he looked between you and Joel "We survived the only way we knew how. But there were other ways..." He trailed off "We just weren’t any good at ’em."

"If you knew the shit that we've been through... Tommy, tryin’ to find you these last few months…"

"I’m gonna be a father."

This news hit you like a freight train.

You saw Joel glance at you. Felt his eyes on you as you started down into your drink. Desperately trying to keep yourself together.

"Maria’s a few months along now." Tommy continued, smiling as he played with the glass in his hands "So I just gotta be more careful..." He paused, glancing at you and Joel "To be honest, I’m scared to death. But I don’t know. Uh… I feel like I’d be a good dad."

A pregnant pause hung over you all. Joel looked at you before returning his attention to his drink. Downing the last of it before speaking.

"Guess we’ll find out." He said as he poured himself a drink.

“I guess we’ll find out?" Tommy spat, angry at his brother's response "That’s all you got?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" The older man asked, looking at his brother who was now squared up to him.

"Just because life stopped for you… doesn’t mean it has to stop for me." Tommy snarled and you swear you could hear Joel's heart shatter.

With tearful eyes, he glanced at you before downing his drink and grabbing his coat.

"We’ll grab some supplies and be outta your hair in the mornin’."

You watched Joel leave. Tommy called after him before slamming his hand on the counter of the bar.

"We lost a baby." You said numbly, grabbing Tommy's attention.

"What?"

"Joel and I... We found out three months ago that I was pregnant." You replied, eyes locking with the man's as you continued "We lost it after escaping from Kansas City."

"Shit I'm-"

"I'm happy for you Tommy." You continued "But don't expect us to be jumping for joy."

You finished your drink and then grabbed your coat, wanting to be out of this place as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry you lost your baby." Tommy piped up, stopping you in your tracks "But life goes on. You can't live your life bitter because other people have what it is you want... It'll poison you."

You didn't reply. You simply left, your tears streaming by the time you stepped outside.

You managed to find the house Maria and Tommy had told you about. You'd decided to take a walk on your own for a few hours and before you'd realised, the sun had set and the town was now blanketed in the soft yellow light. Stepping inside you could hear talking coming from upstairs.

"I’m not her, you know?" Ellie said as you came to a stop outside her room "Maria told me about Sarah and…"

"Don’t." Joel warned, his voice low "Don’t say another word."

"I-I’m sorry about your daughter, Joel." Ellie pushed on, ignoring the man's warning "But I have lost people, too."

"You have no idea what loss is." Joel growled, his tone making you shiver.

"Everybody I have cared for has either died or left me." Ellie spat "Everybody, fucking except for you!" She yelled "So don’t tell me that I’d be safer with somebody else because the truth is I would just be more scared."

"You’re right." Joel piped up after a short pause "You’re not my daughter and I sure as hell ain’t your dad..." He paused a moment, and you wondered where he was going with this. Your question was soon answered.

"Now, come dawn… we’re goin’ our separate ways." You felt your blood boil.

You didn't even flinch when he opened the door to see you standing on the other side. The two of you then just glared at each other before you stormed off, leaving a frustrated Joel in your wake.

The words his brother had spoken to him less than an hour earlier after he'd pleaded for the man to take Ellie still swirled around in his head.

"I know you lost another child Joel... and for that Brother I am sorry but you can't keep shutting her out. I know you're grieving... Don't bottle it up."

Making his way downstairs, he placed himself down on the couch and threw his head into his hands. Memories of Sarah flashed in his mind. Of him decorating the tree with her. Making Christmas cookies to hand from its branches. Not that many made it onto the tree.

His mind then drifted to you. How he could have shared that with you one day. How he still wanted to. He knew he had to make things right with you.

He just wasn't sure how.

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