Summary: You catch his eye from across the room, and for once it feels like he’s the one being sized up.
Warnings: Some spice, though not outright smut.
Prompt: I is for INITIATION.
A/N: Sorry for the break between uploads, I took some time to recuperate from burnout. No promises on how fast my next upload is either, but thank you to everyone who’s left sweet comments and kudos/likes during my absence! Anyways, we’re playing big into the innocence kink in this chapter so if that’s not your thing then a-yo, this might not be the one for you!
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“Did you like that, too?”
“I did.”
“Noted.”
Noted.
Damn well noted.
He feels like a fool, but he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since that run. It went by without a hitch, and Negan had been more than pleased with the plethora of goodies you’d brought back to the Sanctuary, but Simon had barely registered his boss’ praise. Suffice to say that a free serving at the “pussy-bar” had been respectfully, yet firmly, declined - and that had been without seeing the way your head dipped as you left the room.
Dejected, almost. Like a puppy that had been scolded just a little too harshly.
He hasn’t been able to get you alone since. While he hesitates to say that you’re actively avoiding him, your paths haven’t converged naturally again. That run was damn near three weeks ago, and he’s all sorts of frustrated. He wants to see you, wants to talk to you about the moment you shared– wants to see if you’re thinking half as much about him as he is about you.
Simon doesn’t know when he became genuinely fond of you. It had started as a mean-spirited sort of friendship; one in which he'd gleaned as much enjoyment out of seeing you cower as he had from seeing you smile. Over time though, his interest had shifted. It's something he begrudgingly admits, that you impressed him somehow, but admit it he does.
He stirs his coffee listlessly, hip all but glued to one of the cupboards of his kitchenette as he simmers and stews. Is this what he gets for being such an asshole to you at the start of your relationship? Is this just karma fulfilling its notorious cycle? Why is he being so precious about a single kiss?
You know why.
He winces, as if the voice in his head bears weight outside the confines of his mind.
You like that girl.
Sure. He does. What’s the harm in that? He likes his people, doesn’t he? He likes Gary and Dwight and Arat well enough, and he halfway respects Negan. There’s hardly anything threatening about liking someone.
Well now you’re just being pedantic.
Maybe so.
Simon is startled by a knock at his door. It’s late, approaching midnight, and he can’t work out for the life of him what sort of task he’s going to be put to while it’s so dark out. After a moment of consideration, he puts down his mug and moves to open the door. The last thing he needs is for Negan to barge in.
“[Y/N].”
Of all the things he thought he’d see, you didn’t even make the list. His boss, most likely, or one of his men asking for a round or two, but not you. You’re standing there with your hands calmly clasped, clad in a baby blue shirt and a flared skirt that makes his mouth feel dry. God fucking damn it, are you trying to kill him?
“I came to see you.”
You say it matter-of-factly, devoid of your usual apprehension. Something about your pinprick precision is electrifying to him, prompting him to slowly step aside and invite you wordlessly into his room. As you pass, he detects the faint aroma of flowers, and he wonders briefly if it's for him.
“What can I do for ya?” he asks as he closes the door, sounding far more confident than he feels. He’s never been the type to flounder around people. He’s cool and calm and pragmatic, even at the worst of times, and that’s what makes you so irritating to his pride.
“Nothing.”
Simon’s brow furrows. “Then… why did you come?”
You catch his eye from across the room, and for once it feels like he’s the one being sized up.
“Why do you think I came?”
How quaint it is, that Negan’s right-hand man feels on edge because of a small, defenceless girl. He shifts from foot to foot, feeling charged in ways he doesn’t know how to articulate ( even with a vocabulary as verbose as his ), before flashing you an easy smirk that doesn’t suit his current heart rate.
“And here I thought you were avoiding me,” he says conversationally, moving to stand in the ‘kitchen’ once more. “Coffee?”
“No, thank you.” Your eyes travel to a bottle sitting on a small table in the far-right corner of the room. “Some of that, though.”
Simon’s eyes follow your gaze before they settle back on your face. The sound of him pouring his neglected coffee down the drain is as exciting to you as the sound of a zipper being tugged loose.
“It’s a tequila kind of night, is it?” he asks as he serves you a generous glass, letting his hand brush yours as you take it from him. There’s a smile on your lips as you press them to the rim of the glass; it borders on smug, though perhaps self-aware is more accurate. There’s power, however slight, in making him do things for you. “Where’ve you been?”
“Negan’s been putting me on watch lately,” you muse as you take a swig, leaning against the table. Its kick is immediate, and you’re not prepared for how much it burns as you swallow. You decide to ignore Simon’s amused chuckle when your face betrays your intermediate drinking skills. “... I thought you were avoiding me.”
Simon scoffs as he takes a sip straight from the bottle. “Cute - but I’m not twelve, bun.”
Whatever this little routine of yours is, he’ll play it out until it no longer amuses him. As it stands? He’s invested. He finds your bolstered confidence invigorating, and he doubts that a little liquid courage is going to hurt you either. It'll be all the more fun to seize control of the situation later.
He watches out of the corner of his eye as you cross and uncross your legs, your skirt riding up your thighs as you shuffle against the table. The sound of you stubbornly swallowing down the rest of your drink earns his attention, and when he turns you’re upright again.
“Is that how you think of me?”
“Huh?”
“You accused me of avoiding you first,” you say, arms folding over your chest. In that moment, you look like his unhappy wife, scolding him for the fifteenth time that week. “Do you think I’m twelve?”
The words cut deeper than you probably mean for them to - and he likes it so. Simon sees an opening, and it’d be remiss of him if he didn’t take it.
“Now [Y/N]...” He slinks closer to you with all the grace of a panther, and you don’t shy away. He isn’t the only one who’s been waist-deep in thought since the supermarket run, and the feeling of him gradually invading your space sets your nerves alight. “I don’t think I’d have done what I did if I really thought that, do you?”
You bite your lip as you consider it. You’re a little intimidated by the desire that Simon sparks in you. You’ve been with one or two men before, but in comparison to him, they were boys. Children stumbling around in adult boots. Simon is different; he’s older, more reliable and aeons more mature. You’d never dreamed of a man before, never laid around and thought about what it might be like to sleep with him. Now you have.
Your eyes follow the corded muscle of his bicep as his finger tips your chin upwards, eyes large and round as they meet his. The way he's looking at you, with such explicit, dirty hunger, makes you want him all the more.
To his surprise, it’s you who initiates. You stand up on your tiptoes and press your lips candidly to his, and he’s powerless to stop the wave of desire that floods him as he pulls you closer, until you’re flush against him. This isn’t how he pictured his night going at all, but it’s the best way it could have turned out. He’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You radiate heat; a warm, soft thing beneath his heavy hands, and it doesn’t take long for his cool, measured façade to crack. Soon enough, he’s got you backed into the kitchen counter, his tongue in your mouth and his hands on your hips, and he’s drunk on far more than just a swig of tequila.
“Sit,” he commands heatedly as he helps you up onto the counter. Your legs curl loosely around his, almost as if asking for permission, and he grants you it by drawing you closer to the edge. Closer to him.
Your face is picturesque; cheeks rosy, lips wet and parted– and those eyes, those fucking eyes, so glassy and starved. He wants you to look at him ( and only him ) like that all the time.
Gently, Simon swipes his thumb across your plump lower lip, thick fingers curled beneath your jaw. “Where’s your bravado now, bunny?”
The pet-name sinks straight into your core, the tips of your ears going pink. You want to speak, want to assure him, even if falsely, that he hasn’t shaken your confidence, but your thoughts are all jumbled up. His free hand fiddling with the edge of your skirt certainly isn’t helping.
“Hm?” He doesn’t expect an answer, It shows in the way he dips his head, peppering kisses along your neck. They’re almost chaste, though the delicious scrape of his moustache pedals it back towards sinful. You’ve never felt this good from so little before; your head is spinning, hands feeling along his strong shoulders, then his neck, before they sink into his hair, fingers growing taut as he licks and sucks and nips. The streaks of grey only heighten your arousal, legs squeezing around his hips.
You moan his name softly as he nibbles your ear, hot breath and wandering hands setting you alight. It’s as if he’s holding a flame to your gasoline-drenched body, teasing the edge of safety with its flickering heat.
“That’s right,” Simon murmurs, satisfied with his handiwork. You're like putty in his hands now, body soft and pliant while his is rigid and firm. His hand slides slowly beneath your skirt, his hot fingers drawing a flaming pattern along the soft skin of your thigh. He can’t stop himself from smirking when he feels you tense up, your chin hooking over his shoulder as he strokes and jeers. “You just needed to be reminded of your place, huh [Y/N]?”
You make a sound, something that sounds vaguely in the affirmative, because really, you don’t know what you were doing sauntering into his room and pretending that you have any degree of control over him. Maybe you did fleetingly, in regards that didn’t matter, but it’s obvious who calls the shots here. You’re fine with that. In fact, you’re more than fine with that. You ache for that.
“I– I just wanted to see you…” you stammer, your heel rubbing gently along the back of his shin.
“Seems you wanted to do a little more than just see me,” Simon quips, amused, though it fades near instantly, a heedless look of lust replacing it. “... me too. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the store run.”
The admission surprises you, if only because you thought this version of events existed solely in your head. You may have come here to try your luck, especially after what had happened in the store, but most of it was out of desperation to see him again.
“Stay here tonight,” he suggests, pulling far enough away to be able to look you in the eye. His gaze excites you, the usual brown blown black to suit his salacious appetite. It’s dizzying, the amount of desire he’s looking at you with– like he’s been craving you since the dawn of time.
You can’t trust yourself to speak without stumbling, your face red and your brain slow, so you nod, pull him close and begin the lascivious dance all over again.
How funny it is, that the wolf finally has its prey between its jaws, yet all it does is nibble.
Summary: As Emily pregnancy progresses, she and Simon have a talk about their future.
Warnings: Fluff
Notes: This chapter is a bit on the shorter side. I moved recently and am still sorta settling in so things have been a little crazy. Hopefully I’ll get back to writing these a little more frequently.
Emily put a hand on her back and sighed as she stretched a bit. She was at the kitchen window waiting for the order for her last table of the evening. Being 6 months pregnant and on her feet for 10-12 hours 4 or 5 days a week was starting to take a toll on her body. But she wasn’t going to quit and just sit around the house all day. Shortly after discovering she as pregnant she and Simon decided to start living together. Even though she loved her house and it broke her heart to let it go, it just wasn’t big enough for the two of them plus a baby and Amara so Emily moved into Simon’s house. As the cook set the plates down at the window, Emily grabbed a tray and placed the plates on it before bending slightly and lifting the tray onto her shoulder and walked over to the table of guests. She set part of the tray down on the table and placed each plate in front of each guest and smiled. “Can I get you guys anything else?” A woman who Emily assumed was the mother of the two children at the table smiled and shook her head. “No thank you, dear.”
Emily walked over to one of the POS stations and set the tray down before printing the check for her last table and slipping it into the pocket of her apron. She walked over to the bar and asked the bartender for a glass of ice water. Just then Simon came out from his office and smiled as he walked over to Emily and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “How are you feeling?” Emily smiled. “I’m ok. Tired. Just waiting for this last table to finish up before I’m done.” Simon nodded. “Why don’t you sit down?” I could have someone else finish up for you if you can’t manage.” Emily shook her head. “No, no I’m good. I’m fine, I promise.” Emily smiled up at Simon. “I know you are, baby doll.” Simon replied before pressing a kiss to Emily’s forehead. “I have a little bit of paperwork to finish up but I should done by the time you’re ready to go, ok?” Emily nodded. “Sounds good.”
After sipping on her water for a bit Emily slid off her stool and walked over to the table. “Is everything ok here?” The family nodded and smiled. Emily took the check from her pocket and placed it face down on the table. “You can pay this up at the front when you’re ready. Let me know if you need anything else.” She said before heading back over to the bar. About 10 minutes later the family slid out of the table and headed to the front to pay their bill. Once they left Emily walked over to the table and collected the tip that had been left and stuffed it into her pocket. Once she was done settling her checks she walked back to Simon’s office and stepped inside. Simon looked up from the paperwork he was doing and smiled. “All done?” Emily nodded and yawned. “Yes, sir.” Simon stood and walked over to Emily, placing a hand on the small of her back. “You know it drives me crazy when you call me sir.” Emily grinned and wrapped her arms around Simon’s neck. “Why do you think I do it?” He laughed softly as he leaned down and kissed her softly. Emily sighed against Simon’s lips. “Mm, ready to go?” Simon nodded and grabbed his and Emily’s hoodies from the coat rack.
The pair held hands as they exited the bar and walked to Simon’s car. Emily climbed into the passenger side while Simon got in the driver’s side. He pulled out of the parking spot and held Emily’s hand as he drove back to their house. It was still a little strange calling it ‘their house.’ Simon had been surprised when Emily said she would move in. He knew how much she loved her house and thought for sure it would cause a bit of a fight when he suggested that she move into his place. But she continued to surprise him almost daily. Simon pulled into the driveway next to Emily’s car. He climbed out of the car before hurrying around to Emily’s side to help her out. Most times she was fine but every now and then, especially after a long shift, she need a little helping hand. Simon watched as Emily made her way up the front steps. He felt bad. She was fairly petite so even though she was only 6 months along, her belly was huge. He knew that it was getting harder for her by the day to do normal things. Not just physically but emotionally too. Her hormones were raging so she sometimes would start crying for no reason and then fly into a rage almost as if someone flipped a switch. Simon knew that Emily wasn’t crazy about the idea of not working. She’d balked at the idea when he’d suggested it a few weeks ago. But he was growing more and more concerned for her.
Once they were inside Emily kicked her shoes off and sat on the couch, sighing as she wiggled her toes. Her feet and ankles were so swollen that it was almost painful. Simon sat next to her and she draped her legs across his lap. She put a couple of throw pillows behind her and leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Could you rub my feet for me, baby? They’re so swollen and gross.” Simon laughed softly as he took her left foot in his hands and started gently massaging it. “They’re not gross at all.” Emily smiled a bit and closed her eyes, sighing contently as Simon massaged her foot. “Mm, that feels amazing.” Simon smiled softly as Emily closed her eyes and tilted her head back. After a few moments of silence, Simon began to speak. “Hey, babe. I think we should talk.” Emily opened one eye and quirked an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound good.” She replied before reluctantly sitting up a bit.
“Listen,” Simon continued. “I know that you’re not too keen on the idea of not contributing, but I think it’s time that you seriously consider cutting back at work. We could probably move you to the hostess station. At least that way you’d be able to sit down.” Emily sighed. “Simon I know that you’re concerned about me but I assure you I’m fine.” “No, Em, you’re not. I can see this toll this is starting to take on you. Every morning it’s taking you longer and longer to get out of bed because of how sore you are. There’s no shame in admitting that and starting to take it easy.” Emily sat up and folded her legs underneath her, resting a hand on her belly and running another through her hair. “I know, Si. I just…” Simon reached over and put a hand on her knee. “I know, babe. I do.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Listen, I know you have the next few days off. Take that time to think, ok? You don’t have to decide right now.” Emily nodded. “Ok, I’ll think about it.” “Good.”
Emily looked over at Simon. “Why do I have the feeling that’s not all you wanted to talk about?” Simon laughed softly. “You see right through me, don’t you?” He adjusted himself so he was facing Emily. “I’ve just been thinking about stuff. Ya know, us…our future.” “What about it?” Emily asked. Simon took a deep breath. “Well, I mean, obviously we’re in this for the long haul.” He said motioning to Emily’s belly. “I just wonder how long of a haul…” Emily tilted her head a bit. “Are you talking about like…us getting married?” She asked softly. Simon shrugged. “I didn’t say that exactly.” “But you implied it.” “I guess so.” Emily licked her lips. “Simon, you know I love you more than words could ever describe. And to be honest if I weren’t pregnant I’d probably be all over this conversation. But right now I’m just trying to focus on staying healthy so I can have this baby. Plus, I’m not walking down any aisles looking like this.” Simon nodded. “So…you’re not saying no. You’re just saying not now?”
Emily smirked and moved so she was closer to Simon. “Simon, my darling, I am in a pretty good mood right now but I’m very hormonal so I wouldn’t press your luck.” Simon laughed before leaning in and kissing Emily softly. “I love you.” “Love you too.” After relaxing on the couch for a while Emily yawned and decided to go upstairs. Simon was going to the kitchen to grab some water for her and would be up in a moment. As Emily changed into her PJs and climbed into bed she began to think about what Simon had said about taking it easy at work. He was right that she was pretty sore all time but especially after working. Simon entered the room and put a cold bottle of water on Emily’s nightstand before placing another bottle down on his. He stripped down to his boxer briefs and slid under the covers with Emily. She cuddled closer to him as he placed a hand on her belly. She placed her hand over his before smiling up at him. Simon leaned in a kissed Emily softly. “Goodnight, my love.” “Goodnight, dear.” She replied with a soft laugh.
Emily was asleep in no time. She usually was nowadays. She got tired much more easily now. Simon rolled onto his back and just stared up at the ceiling. This is what had been happening over the last few weeks. Emily would crash and he would lay awake for hours just thinking. He gently sat up and looked over his should to make sure Emily was still asleep. He slowly opened the drawer on his nightstand and reached in towards the back until he felt the small velvet box he’d stashed there. He pulled the box out and slowly opened the top, staring down at the rings inside. He and Emily had stopped outside a jewelry store once and looked at the rings in the window. That’s when Emily declared that if Simon ever proposed she wanted something simple and unique. She didn’t want some huge diamond or something that was mass produced. Simon searched for months and went to a dozen different jewelers until he found something he knew Emily would love. The engagement ring was a rose gold band with a pear shaped moonstone which was surrounded by small diamonds but it still wasn’t too flashy. The wedding band was also rose gold and it was pointed to accommodate the pear shape of the engagement ring. It had a small diamond at the top of the point and on each side of the band were 3 rose gold leaves with even smaller diamonds in the middle of each leaf. He figured she’d probably want to wear just the wedding band so he wanted it to have a little bit of a design to it instead of just being plain. He didn’t buy himself a wedding band. He knew Emily would want to pick that out herself.
He ran his thumb over the rings and sighed softly. He wanted to give them to her so bad. But she deserved to be swept off her feet. And she was right. This wasn’t the right time to worry about a wedding. Once the baby was born and Emily had time to recover he would propose. “I’ll know when the time is right.” He thought to himself. He heard Emily groan softly so he quickly closed the box and shoved back into his nightstand drawer. He looked over at Emily as she stretched a bit. “You ok?” She asked sleepily. Simon smiled and nodded. “Yeah, of course. Just thirsty is all.” He said as he reached for his water and took a sip. Simon laid back down and wrapped his arms around Emily’s waist. She rested her head on his shoulder, pushing her face into the crook of his neck as she quickly fell back to sleep. Simon smiled to himself as he ran a hand gently up and down Emily’s back causing her to sigh contently. Simon looked down at her and felt his heart swell. He couldn’t wait to hold his baby and he certainly couldn’t wait to call Emily his wife.
A/N: Okay, I know… it’s been 87 years and I am sorry. For those who may not know I have been having some rather serious health issues since May, I have had 2 rather serious surgeries among other things. I am doing much better now and I am writing again. Yes I have written other things between my last update and now but this story takes a certain headspace that I have to be in to write it. To be quite honest I haven’t been able to get myself in that frame of mind to write this… but I am gonna give it a whirl. I apologize if this chapter is shorter or not of the same quality as previous ones but I hope that will change as I push forward on this story because I love this story very much and I appreciate all the lovely comments and each and every kudos on AO3 and like on Tumblr. I can’t express how much the comments and such really helped get me back motivated to work on this, so please if you enjoy this story and are inclined leave me a comment. I do my best to get back to each one, even if it’s just a thank you <3
When Simon had parted ways with you and Sherry she wasted little time getting into the thick of things. Her hand gripped your arm tightly, almost to the point that it hurt, as she pulled you away from the direction that you had honestly expected her to want to move towards. Deacon was already racing off, on a euphoric high thanks to the ice cream he was trying to eat like a savage little monster. His face coated in pale pink from the strawberries . You wanted to call after him but Sherry started rambling. “Things are starting to get really fucking complicated with the wives.” Her voice had this air of frantic fear as she spoke, her hand still gripping your arm tightly.
As you tried not to think too long or too hard on what that meant you glanced over your shoulder and watched nervously as Dwight and Simon started to have their weighted conversation. “Things are always fucking complicated with the wives Sherry… that’s what happens when you blackmail women into marrying you.” You snap as you manage to pray Sherry’s tight grip from your arm as your eyes search the area for Deacon. He is getting too close to fence. Your heart raced for a moment. “Deacon! Get away from that fence right now… come over here…” You command as you point to the spot between where you and Sherry were standing.
As Sherry was about to answer, Deacon started to reluctantly waddle back towards you taking just a brief pause to look at the boys. As if he was contemplating where would truly be his better option to go towards at this point. “Deacon!” Sherry shouted in a very mother’s tone, “Move it young man! You best start listing to your mama!” She scolded sternly as she clapped her hands to get Deacon’s attention. The little boy scurried over to you and a frantic pace, he nearly lost the mound of ice cream that was quickly melting all over the cone held between his tiny hands. Sherry turned back to you once Deacon was safely between the two of you before she finally was able to continue. “Amber and Frankie have it in their heads that the only way things are going to change is if Negan dies…” Sherry said in a hushed tone as she reached down and covered Deacon’s ears so he wouldn’t fully comprehend what was being said.
Your face is painted in a look of disbelief as you push he hands away from your son’s head and you tut softly. “Amber has been saying that since I was married to him… she never does anything about it.” Deacon peers around you as you and Sherry continue, eyeing Simon and Dwight across the yard. “and if you think they are actually serious why are telling me? Wouldn’t you tell the fucking big bad bossman?” You raise a questioning eyebrow as you reach blindly to your side and gentle urge Deacon to bring his attention back towards you and Sherry. “Dekes… you gotta stay here bubs.” You say to your son as your tussle his hair. He let out a little groan before taking a few steps away from you and plopping down on the ground to continue eating his quickly melting sweet treat.
Sherry’s eyes darted over to where the men were standing, very deep in what looked like a rather serious conversation. A nervous sigh escaped her lips as her arm draped over your shoulder pulling you into a side hug, not because she wanted to be affectionate but because she needed no one else to hear what she had to say. “Maybe they are right (y/n),” She said softly and almost instantly you started shaking your head. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it?”
You let out a frustrated huff and shrug Sherry’s arm off your shoulder as you take a step towards where Deacon was sitting finishing his ice cream. “Yeah, so… I didn’t do anything about it. It’s one thing to have a fantasy, to say something out of frustration and anger but it is another thing to actually go about planning a man’s murder. Not to mention the one they want to kill is my son’s father, who happens to actually be in his life these days. Do you realize that if anything happened to Negan, Deacon would be devastated.” You said emphatically as you looked at your dearest friend with a great deal of suspicion as you stood before her arms crossed in front of your chest. Standing between her and Deacon.
Sherry scoffed and let out a dark, soft chuckle. “You would be the one to know all about plotting and planning a murder… wouldn’t you.” There was a defensive attitude that Sherry took with you and she said that made your stomach twist and you almost felt sick hearing her take such a tone with you. Though you had in fact gone about, very methodically, a plan to discover who was the trigger man on your brother’s murder and then kill them it never got beyond the planning stages. You had never gone through with your intentions, in part because Sherry convinced you not to.
Something in her was changing, breaking and you could see it. “I didn’t actually do anything Sherry…” Your voice shook a little as the well of shame and guilt for you actions started to bubble up again. You glanced over at Deacon who was noticing the tense tones and heated langue. He scooted away and looked longingly over at Simon and Dwight, his little hazel eyes trying to search for a reason to go against his mother’s wishes and get away from the argument that was taking place.
Sherry paced back and forth, only taking a few steps each time before she would spin around on her heel, eyes glancing over each time at Dwight as your stood in an uncomfortable silence. You knew that she would have never thought of discussing such a thing before all this. Sherry was the calm one, the wise one, the one who talked everyone down from their stupid ideas. After another tense few minutes Sherry stopped pacing and stood facing away from you looking over at Simon and Dwight who were too deep in their own conversation to see the growing tension between you and her.
“I just don’t want this anymore (y/n)” She said mournfully and you couldn’t help but get a pang of sympathy in her chest as she spoke. “He isn’t like physically cruel. He doesn’t hit us or hurt any of us… we know the deal so nothing is forced. But the mind fuckery…” Sherry’s voice cracked as she choked back tears. “It’s the head games. The holding our families over our head… our husbands… the people we actually love.” You took a few steps away from Deacon, taking your attention full away from him as you closed the gap between Sherry and wrapped your arms around her.
As you took a deep breath you reached up and brushed the tears away from her cheeks. “It sucks right?” you said in a very dead pan voice with a half hearted smirk. Sherry let out a slightly uncomfortable laugh of her own as she tossed her head back for a moment before nodded.
“So much!” She exclaimed and you both laughed in your shared misery. You never wanted Sherry to experience the side of Negan that most of the wives knew all too well. While your particular brand of head games ala Negan was not cruel in the same way that Sherry, Amber and on some level Frankie, were experiencing. It was uniquely soul destroying. You saw a rare side of Negan, an almost tender side when he would imagine that you were Lucille. He really loved that women you thought bitterly for a moment before turning your attention back to Sherry.
As your hands slipped away from her face you took a hold of her hands and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Listen, everything works out in the end. That’s what you told me for all those years.” Sherry scoffed softly and shook her head.
“It worked out so well for you.” Her voice was thick with your usual sarcasm. It was an odd feeling for you to be on the receiving end of the sarcastic comments for a change. You chuckle and shook your head. As you were doing so, you caught a glimpse of Deacon wondering off back towards the fence where the dead were chained.
You hardly brought him in the part of the compound because unlike many children, Deacon had no fear of the dead. He found them amusing and even comical. Your heart began to race as you watched him inch closer and closer to the fence with each step. Dropping Sherry’s hands as you spun around on your heal and raced after the toddler who was boldly walking right up to one of the walkers chained to the fence. “Deacon!” you bellow as you raced towards the fence.
Sherry let out a shrill shriek as she too noticed Deacon nearing the walkers. “Bubba!” She called trying to get his attention but Deacon was too enthralled with the snarls of the walker.
As you closed the gap between you and your son, your hand out stretched, reaching desperately towards Deacon. As your fingers wrapped his arm as you scooped him up and pressed him close to your chest. “What have I said? What have I said?” You repeat softly as you kiss the top of his head. Sherry raced up behind you and let out a long sigh of relief as she saw that Deacon was safe.
Having seen the commotion, Dwight and Simon came rushing over. “Is he okay?” managed to ask first even through Simon was about to ask the same thing. Sherry smiled softly nodding towards them as you were still checking over every inch of exposed skin to make sure he was unharmed.
“You are in big trouble Deacon..” You scold softly as you smooth down his dark locks. Deacon pouted, not fully understanding why he was in trouble or the depth of danger that the dead posed. “You are never to go near those things…”
“Grrrr” Deacon mimicked the sound of dead as he pointed towards them. “Funny mama…” He tried to explain. You took a long steady breath trying to calm the urge to yell at your son. He was little and you had kept him so sheltered it was no wonder he found the dead so entertaining.
Before you could even mange to gather your thoughts Simon walked over and leaned in to do his best to explain the situation. “No, buddy..” Simon started as he placed a hand on his little shoulder and pointed towards the fence. “They are bad, mean… they will hurt you and while I know you are a big, tough guy… you still have a lot of growing up to do before you can learn how to be able to be around those things and be safe.” Deacon’s dark eyes focused intently on Simon as he spoke. You were grateful for him stepping in. There was nothing that you could have come up with so quickly that would have gotten through to Deacon as much as what Simon has said.
Deacon lifted his chubby, little hand and pointed towards the fence trying to understand. “Bad?” he asked first looking to you, then over to Sherry who was standing just behind you. His eyes darted over to Dwight who nodded and finally he looked at Simon. “Grrr bad?” He asked again.
“Yes baby…” You answer quickly before the other began to echo the same thing. Deacon seemed to grasp the concept though you wondered how much he really understood. You glanced over your shoulder for a moment and caught a glimpse of a brief look between your old friends and there was a twinge of pain deep within your chest. Everything about this world is backwards and wrong. Your mind reminds you before you glance back over at Simon who was also eyeing Dwight and Sherry. “I should get him to Negan…” You mentioned softly to Simon as you shifted Deacon in your arms.
“I’ll come with.” Simon suggests but you shake your head quickly knowing all too well the otherwise uneventful exchange would only be made far tenser by Simon’s presence. The one thing you realized that as long as Negan didn’t have to see you with Simon, things between them were relatively calm and almost pleasant.
“You know it’s better if it’s just me, I won’t be long…” You attempt to reassure Simon as you lean in and give him a brief kiss and a soft smile before turn back to Sherry who was talking very softly with Dwight. You give them both a little wave and Sherry blows Deacon a kiss before promising to check on him and daddy a little later. It did make you feel far better about leaving Deacon overnight with Negan knowing that Sherry was likely going to be there for most of it. There is a small upside. You muse silently as you walk with Deacon in your arms back into the building.
Once you reached the all too familiar site of Negan’s door you set Deacon down before you reached out and gave a soft knock on the door. A few moments pass before the door creaks open and Negan greets Deacon with a warm smile. “There’s my guy..” He exclaimed as he leaned down and scooped Deacon up.
“Daddy…” Deacon chirped happily as he wrapped his arms around his father’s neck. “Daddy! Grrrr is bad… mama got mad.” The little boy tried explain to his father rather enthusiastically but Negan only gave you a very worried and confused looked.
“Mama, care to translate what our son is trying to say?” Negan asked as he raised a questioning eyebrow as he stepped aside and ushered you into his room.
Reluctantly you obliged him and let out a long, heavy sigh as you started to explain. “I had Deacon outside, he was playing after having a little treat… and he thought that the biters were funny…” You stepped inside, your eyes focused intently on Negan’s face as he looked down at your son with a stern, disapproving look.
“Is that so?” Negan asked the toddler and Deacon looked away from his father obviously pretending that he didn’t hear the question.
“Deacon, your daddy asked you a question.” You remind the young child gently before Deacon looked back at his father and nodded his head. Negan let out a long sigh as he shifted Deacon in his arms.
There was part of you that was very worried that he would take a stern route, or a scare tactic but when he spoke, he shocked you in the best possible way. “First things first young man, you always have to listen to your mama, I know she probably told you to stay close and you didn’t listen. You can’t just go wandering off, there are monsters and bad people out and you have a lot of people to keep them away but you have to stay with the grownups. Those biters are very dangerous, you can’t go anywhere near them… understand me.” Deacon nodded quickly. Negan looked over at you for a brief moment before he returned his focus back to Deacon. “Mama loves you, I love you… we don’t want anything to happen to you.” He gave Deacon a quick kiss on the cheek before setting him down and patting him on the bum. “Go play buddy.”
“Okay Daddy…” Deacon said with a quick nod as he tootled over to his toys letting you and Negan have brief moment.
Negan crossed his arms in front of his chest as he let out a long drawn out sigh. “So is that where Sherry went? With you…” You nod not really wanting to speak to him more than you had to and Negan chuckled softly as his hand reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He so gets the ‘nod of I don’t want to speak to you’ from you.”
“Well, would you like me to list some of the lovely traits our son shares with you?” you retorted with a smirk playing on your lips. You were trying to get a little playful rise out of Negan and it worked like a charm.
He smirked and gestured towards his face. “He got my devilish good looks, my charismatic charm… I mean… all the best parts.” He was teasing you, playing into the opening you left him and you smiled softly trying to stifle a laugh. “What, (y/n), tell me I am wrong.”
With that statement you let out an audible chuckle as you tilted you head back. “Oh you are very wrong.” You laugh as you look back Negan as you smirk. “He has your temper, your flare for the dramatic… has your ability to drive me up a wall with worry…” With your last statement Negan’s expression shifted and softened. He was rather taken a back that you admitted that you worried about him.
His lips parted for a moment as he attempted to find words. “You.. worry… about me?” Negan asked in a low voice.
Your cheeks flush and you give him another little nod which coaxes a soft chuckle from Negan. “I always worried when you went out, even through everything I did care about you for some God forsaken reason.” You pause for a moment and shift your weight on your heals as you decide whether or not you wanted to continue with your confession. You took a long deep breath as you cast your eyes to the floor. “I still worry about you Negan. The more time Deacon spends with you, the bigger part of his life you become the more I worry what will happen to him if something happens to you.” You lifted your gaze just in time to see Negan’s face shift to a grim expression.
He glanced over at Deacon playing happily and let out a sigh before turning back to you with a forced, all be it charming, smile playing on his lips. “Nothing will happen to me darling.” You tried not to smile when he called you ‘darling’ but there was something about the way the word rolled off his lips that took you back to a time when he had a hold over you. “I waited a hell of long time. Go through the end of the fucking world to have that boy… I want to see him grow up.” His words were so sincere that it touched you in a way you didn’t think that Negan could touch you anymore. It stirred something long forgotten with in you.
“I want that too…” You mumble trying hard not to show the old feelings that were bubbling just below the surface, but Negan was nothing if not an observant man. Though he didn’t respond with words, a slightly victorious smirk played on his lips as he gazed at you. His gaze made your cheeks flush slightly, which made his smirk only grow more.
The flush of your cheeks finally pushed him to make note of it. “Ya know, if I didn’t know better I would almost think that you like me…” Negan teased and your cheeks only flushed more as you shook your head. He took a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you as he leaned in asked in a low voice. “Do you still like me?” He asked sheepishly.
You shook your head unable to utter the words because it would have been a lie. Swallowing hard as you look up at Negan and whisper, “I’m with Simon.” Which caused Negan to stifle a laugh.
“I have no fucking clue why.” Negan retorted quickly and sharply. “I am not saying you have to be with me, but you deserve someone far better than that ticking time bomb.” There was a tone of genuine concern in his voice as he spoke. Before there was always something vicious and inflammatory about how he would bring up Simon with you, but this time it was gentler.
You wanted to push back and defend Simon because he was so much more than Negan was giving him credit for but you didn’t want to have a fight when things were going so well. “I am well aware of his history, as I was of yours…” you finally decide to say knowing that it was good way to say your peace with out pushing any buttons.
Negan smirked as he loomed over you. “He is good to the squirt.” You nod and chuckles again. “I am just going to say… you are more than welcome to come back to Daddy,” Negan said with a devious smirk. ”when you get tired of him… because it’s only a matter of time before he fucks up and so help me if he gets our son or you caught up in his inevitable bull shit. I am gonna kill him.” You scoff slightly and roll your eyes as Negan’s hand reaches out and grips your hip pulling you closer to him. “Why are you with him? Honest answer, darling.”
It was more that you didn’t want to insight him that you actually answered truthfully when everything in you was telling you to lie through your teeth. “He only wants me… if you would have only wanted me… maybe I would have come back and given you a second chance for Deacon’s sake.” You had more honest conversations with Negan during these exchanges over the last week than you had in time you were one of his wives. Negan took a step back and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he processed what you had said. “I cared about you a lot once upon a time, Negan. But I don’t want to be one of many. I want to be someone’s one and only. I want to be cherished and Simon for all his faults ticks all those boxes… and he is good with Deacon.”
Negan let out a long sigh as he scratched the several days of scruff on his chin. “I am helping those women… I take care of them.”
“You fuck them and pay them with chocolate, booze, and some faint vail of safety. Not a one of them would have actually wanted to be with you if they weren’t desperate.” You snap quickly when he started trying to defend his stable of wives. “I was the closest thing to someone who wanted to be with you because they liked you…” With the old feelings you had for him bubbling to surface the reminders of how deeply he had wounded you stung deeper.
Negan reached out and touched your arm as he spoke. “(y/n), I wish I had gotten over my issues then… maybe I would have shown you what kind of husband I could have been.” You let out a long and heavy sigh as you pushed his hand off your arm.
“Just worry about being a good father.” You gesture towards the door and give a quick, awkward smile. “I should get going, I told Simon I wouldn’t be long…” Negan gave a short nod and you shook your head as you started to walk out of the room and head back out to track down Simon and Dwight.
Once you were out of the room Negan turn to Deacon and smiled at his son who was beaming up at him. “I think Daddy may have more of a foot in the door than we thought my boy… “ He mused victoriously as he flopped down on the couch next to Deacon as he played with his toys at his father’s feet. “We are going to be family, you… me and Mama… one way or another.”
