Look, the 90s look, it’s not always for me. But THIS version, I kinda love it.

This is the perfect look for Coachella. The skirt is actually a skort, and it’s an easy outfit to layer later and still look super cute. All you need is a cheap pair of black Forever 21 leggings, and a mesh hoodie for when the sunsets to keep you warm.

This backpack is also the perfect size, looks like you can hold a water bottle, and your warm clothes for later easy, plus some extra stuff like a glasses case and sunscreen.

I also just ordered this bracelet, and I LOVE it, so 8/10 recommend, 8 because the clasp is a little sketch but I think it’s cute.

Vibe Tank Top: Princess Polly, $43
Crinkle High-Rise Skort: Forever 21, 19.99
Sunglasses:Ray Ban, $141$70
Goldtone Curb Chain Bracelet: All Saints, $78$35
Classic Mini Backpack: Herschel, $40

Caroline Herschel, the sister of astronomer William Herschel who discovered Uranus, was the first woman in England’s history employed by the government. In 1787, King George III offered her a salary to continue her work in astronomy, making her both the first female government employee and the first paid for their work in astronomy.

Savours Coffee House | Chapter Two

Summary: Negan and you grow closer, and you begin to let him in.

Warnings: Language, dark themes, appearance of Shane Walsh. TW: mentions of cutting. TW: Mentions of toxic relationship. WC—+6.5K

A/N: Just a little more character and relationship development, things are starting to pick up…

BACK

Negan had begun to dream about you nearly every night. He scarcely remembered the dreams in any detail, he just knew that you were in them and when he woke up he would find himself longing, irritated and confused. He was waking up earlier as a result and would end up padding down to his office, hopeful that he would catch a glimpse of you during your morning routine.

After a couple of weeks, you had noticed his earlier appearances and began bringing him his coffee. You’d learned from Dwight how he liked it and delivered one nearly every day, sometimes lingering to chat, other times giving him a sleepy smile before slipping back downstairs. If he tried to come down, make the drink himself, you’d scold him and assure him you didn’t mind bringing him the coffees. He’s not sure why you didn’t mind, though. He knew you were kind and thoughtful, but it still wasn’t part of your job description.

Today, however, was Tuesday morning. This meant that when Negan walked down the steps from his condo and came out onto the second floor of Saviours, he knew exactly where to look for you and that you wouldn’t be bringing him up a coffee.

Sitting at your usual spot with Herschel, Maggie’s father, you were playing cards together. The old man had been coming to Saviours since the day Negan had opened the doors, had told Maggie that he was looking for staff, and then became a regular once she was offered a job. He now held an early morning competition at crazy eights, best out of five, every Tuesday with you. Negan wasn’t sure how it started, just that one day he came downstairs and you were sitting across from Herschel, brows knitted together in concentration, and ever since it had been like a tradition.

He surveys you as he makes his way downstairs, drinking in the details; your hair was down and messier than normal, though in that tousled way that means it was the intended look. You’re dressed in shorts and a long-sleeved tee, and when he descends the last steps to the main level he can see that you have that signature frown on your face as you concentrate. Negan adored your expressions as you played, though he tried not to be too obvious in his observation of you.

“Morning, Negan,” Dwight hands him his coffee with a half-smile, something he only did on the days he worked with you. In fact, most of the staff were chippier since you’d started, even more so than when Lucille ran the floor. Just another reason he was glad you wanted to work for him.

Negan nodded gratefully and took a sip of his drink before replying. “Morning, how’s the game going?”

“Tied, this is the last round.”

Together, Negan and Dwight stand and silently watch the game unfold across the shop. The regulars were all doing the same. Some standing near the table itself and others craning their necks in their seats. The soft classical music was the only sound other than the occasional ‘pick up two’ or ‘change to spades’ when one of you played an eight. When you call last card, trying to suppress your excitement, Herschel smiles confidently and plays a two—only you grin wider and lay down your final card—the two of hearts, and everyone starts clapping and congratulating you. You blush a little at the attention as you shake Herschel’s hand.

It’s as he’s grinning like an idiot, watching you, that Negan realizes just how much he’s grown to care for you. His feelings are something he’s happy to push back and attempt to ignore, but as you toss around the prettiest smile he’d ever laid eyes on, thanking everyone as you put your apron back on, he struggles in his mind with the rush of affection he has for you.

A few days prior, he’d watched you from the security camera feed in his office as you received a text, read it, and seemed to shut down. Your body had stiffened, your face had fallen into a vacant expression. You had moved about the rest of your shift in a zombie-like state. It was fucking weird, but he hadn’t asked you about it. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, admitting he’d happened to look up at the cameras and see your reaction.

The woman in front of him now, he thinks, is the real you. The joy in your expression is genuine as you hug the old man before turning to continue with your day. And when your eyes scan the room automatically and fall on Negan as he stands there smiling, your gaze softens just enough for heat to pool in his belly. Maybe you merely tolerated Negan, maybe you actually liked him. Either way, he was nearly bowled over by you—and unbeknownst to his conscious mind, a protective force was becoming more and more prominent within him every single day.

And that force—the strength of it, how far he would be willing to go for you—would make itself known sooner than he would ever know.

WAY BACK

Negan has a meeting with the owner of a bakery three doors down, one of the more popular shops in the city. They had pretty limited seating in the small shop and were happy to expand their service by becoming the suppliers of all the in-house goodies one could buy at Saviours Coffee House. Owned by the sibling duo Sasha and Tyrese Williams, Williams Bakeshop made everything from good-old American pie to scones that made every grandmother in the area ready to stand in line for an hour just to get a hold of a dozen for their tea parties.

Normally, he would take the meeting alone; it was a simple review of what Negan wanted to order for the Summer quarter, based on a schedule that he’d asked you to create. The idea of bringing you along was not only pleasing because it meant further time with you, but it also ensured that he could train you to take on another duty, for when he needed the support.

“Okay, Negan, you absolutely cannot let me buy anything while we are in there,” You murmur as your eyes catch the window display filled with the fresh bakes of the day. You moan in a way that makes his cock twitch, and he merely grunts in response. “No, seriously. I do not need—“

“Need?” He cuts you off, pausing at the door to the shop to glance down at you, one brow quirked, “Who the hells ‘needs’ pastry, doll? It’s about what you want.”

You shrug, “Well, I want to be able to fit my fat ass in my jeans.” Negan can’t help but stare at you in shock, his stomach turning at the vitriol in your tone, before letting his gaze fall down your figure. You were curvy—busty—feminine.

Beautiful.

When he meets your eyes again, he can see your cheeks are slightly flushed. Negan clears his throat, considers his words carefully—he doesn’t want to overstep—and keeps his voice low. “Doll, you don’t want to eat anything, you don’t have to. You want to treat yourself, or split something with me, you say the word. You can do whatever you want,” He sees the way the pinch between your brows disappears as they raise in surprise. “But don’t ever let me hear you put yourself down again, okay? And you say the word ‘fat’ like that would be a bad thing.”

He hopes his tone conveys how untrue that would be. If someone wanted to stick labels on people, he didn’t know why some had to be better than others. Lucille had been unconventional—it was what drew him to her in the first place. She had been all colourful and edgy and snarky before it was cool for women to be like that, and she didn’t care what people thought. She would call Negan out if he ever commented on another person, point out his bullshit. He’d learned because of her how to look at a person and see them for them. Some people were assholes. Some were hilarious.

And some, well, they were innocent little lambs walking around on unsteady legs.

He drops it there, holding the door open for you when you make no response other than to nod. But he knows that what he said didn’t even come close to offending you when you accept Sasha’s offer of a slice of chocolate cake twenty minutes later and eat the entire thing with a big smile.

You don’t say anything to him about it, but when you take the last bite, your eyes find his and you wink.

BACK

You’ve been staring at the schedule for too long, unseeing, mind blank. You’re overtired today, thanks to Spencer dropping by the previous night, long overstaying his welcome with a tirade about issues at his work, which makes you want to scream. His ‘job’ is a glorified assistant for his mother, and she rarely has him do much real work. She had a real, city-appointed assistant to do that. Nonetheless, he stayed until after midnight whining and you think he was secretly hoping for pity sex.

But you hadn’t had sex with him in over a year, and you certainly weren’t interested in breaking that streak last night.

With a sigh, you lean back from your laptop and glance towards Negan’s office. His door is only half-closed, which means you’re welcome to walk in and start working in the quiet with him. But you’d been avoiding doing so over the last week—you had noticed he seemed to be keeping an eye on you, paying closer attention. Maybe he knew what your secrets were and was waiting for the heat of his gaze to melt your commitment to keeping them locked away.

He’d always been quiet, contemplative, and that was something you loved about him. You watched the way he would read a situation carefully before saying anything. You appreciated the patience and care that he took in his life. But ever since the blood on your jeans incident, he’d seemed hyper-aware of you and the last thing that you needed was him to find out even a fraction of how fucked up your life truly was.

If you let him in, you would get hurt, and you don’t think you could ever recover if you lost Negan’s friendship.

You abandon the laptop and instead decide to do a walk around the shop to check on the customers and give out some free cookies. It was busy with mostly regulars at this time in the afternoon, so you loved to surprise them occasionally with small gestures of gratitude for their patronage. You had put on the calming jazz playlist earlier, and the sun was shining through the windows and soaking all of your plants in delicious light.

Smiling to yourself, you pull out your phone and snap a photo, then post it to Saviour’s Instagram account before beginning your trek around the shop. It’s about ten minutes later after you’ve finished chatting with a pair of elderly sisters that stop by every day, that your day takes a swift turn.

Maggie is bending and wiping a table off and you smile at her and open your mouth to ask her how she’s doing when you notice a small group of men in the corner a few feet away, eyes on your friend’s ass. Two off four have their feet propped up on the coffee tables—in their corner, it’s an old travelling trundle Negan found at an antique sale. He’d refinished it and sealed the top so that its new use as a table wouldn’t destroy the unique finish.

It was one of the first rules at Saviour’s—keep your feet off the damn tables.

“Hey guys, everything all good over here? Do you need anything?” You approached with your friendliest smile, blocking their view of Maggie at the same time. They look at you, or your chest, and then sprout similar, sleazy grins.

“We’re all good, sweetheart.”

You bite back your retort and instead nod pleasantly, “Great, glad to hear—if I could just ask that you not put your feet on the table, please, that would be awesome. And let me know if you need anything!”

You spin away, your smiling dropping once they can no longer see your face, and Maggie tosses you a grateful look as she carries a tray of dirty glasses towards the back. Before you can take more than two steps from the group, however, a hand grabs your wrist and one of the men chides, “How about you come sit on my lap and we’ll give you a real good tip for letting us keep our feet up, sweetie?”

He tugs a little so that you’re forced to turn back. You glare at him as you wrench your hand free, and one of his buddies chuckles. “Aww, the little pussy-cat is all fired up, Shane!”

He’s looking at the one who had grabbed your wrist, who is giving you a handsome smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “Feet off the tables, or leave.” You say, trying to take a step back without turning away.

Shane shifts forward, “Aw, come on, we’re just having some fun after a long day—you look like you’ve had a long one yourself—how ‘bout you and I go and blow off some steam?”

You’re so taken aback you can’t even think of how to reply. You glance around at his friends, still glaring, when he suddenly stands up and towers over you. He’s still giving you that predatory smile and your instincts are all fucked up thanks to Spencer. You immediately want to make him happy so that he leaves you alone and you fight against yourself, which results in you standing still. Maybe he takes it as an invitation—saying nothing must be good—but all he does is take one step towards you before Negan appears out of thin air.

You hadn’t even heard him approach, but he’s between you and Shane in a flash, one hand reaching back protectively to keep you behind him, the other jabbing into the man’s chest. “I know you aren’t harassing my manager, Walsh. Not after I treated you so fucking nice since you got out, letting you drag your sorry ass in here.”

Shane puffs up, but he doesn’t appear to worry Negan in the least. You can’t see Negan’s face, but something in his expression must give Shane pause, and after a moment he raises his hands. “Alright, man, I’m sorry—“

“Don’t apologize to me.”

Negan doesn’t let you out from behind him, so you peek your head out from behind his arm as Shane leans slightly to see you. “I’m sorry, miss, that was out of line. We’re leaving.”

He and his friends file out silently, and Negan doesn’t let you go for a long moment. Once they’re out of sight, he drops his hold and spins around. At first, you begin to thank him, but he cuts you off when his hands gently cup your cheeks, his eyes searching your face with so much concern you stop talking abruptly.

“Doll, are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, grateful there are only a few people in the shop and they appear to have the good grace to look away. “I’m okay, Negan,” He nods at your words, dropping his hands and straightening. His eyes are back on the door and you see another flash of rage twist his features, “Hey, I promise. I’m good.” You tug at his hand, squeeze it briefly, and then let go.

Negan looks at you and you swear you feel the intensity of his gaze right down to your core. Your stomach is doing summersaults. “You even see a glimpse of his ugly face, you come to get me, alright?”

You nod, but before you can respond the door opens behind you and a familiar voice says your name at the same time you feel a furry head press into your side. When you glance down, Dog is there, waiting patiently for your affection, and you give a happy squeal before dropping down to hug her close. She gives a whine of content as you stroke her fur and gives you an excuse to hide your face from the men you know are both assessing you.

“How are you, Daryl? Good to see you.” Negan says, and you hear them clasp hands as Daryl greets him in return.

“What are you even doing here?” You ask, smiling up at Daryl. You hadn’t expected him. He gestures at the bag in his hand; stamped with the logo of the hardware store down the road.

“Had some errands, thought I’d come see if I could take you to lunch,” He gives you a once over, then, looking from the expression on your face to the way you’re petting Dog and his eyes narrow. “You okay, kid?”

You wave him off, intending to just forget about what had just occurred, but Negan answers before you can think of an excuse. “I just had to kick out a couple of assholes who were harassing her. She could probably use a long break—why don’t you take off for a bit, doll, come back whenever.”

You frown up at Negan, “I’m okay to take my normal break—”

“I know you’re okay, but take a long lunch anyway.”

You don’t know what it is about Negan Dean, but the way he says things sometimes makes you soak your panties in response. He never orders you around, but when he does make a command, it’s always like this—when he’s telling you to take a break, go easy on yourself, eat whatever you like, whenever you like. It’s as though he knows that you get bossed around by Spencer and you don’t have that freedom in your life. So he makesyou take care of yourself.

You move to climb back to your feet and his hand is at your elbow, lifting you before you can blink. You stare at Negan for a beat, your thoughts spinning, and have to work hard to respond. “Thank you…I’ll take a long lunch. You’re so fucking bossy.”

Negan smirks, “You love it.”

He lifts a hand in farewell to Daryl, who has watched the entire exchange with a bemused sort of expression and then heads towards the back of the shop. You watch him go, then turn to your best friend. “Lunch?”

“The hell was all that?”

You shrug, biting back a giddy smile and looking away to focus on the tie of your apron, which you remove and leave on a hook at the door. “Just Negan being Negan.” You hope he doesn’t catch on to the affection laced in your words.

Negan overhears Daryl mention that he’s taking you just over to Coalition for lunch. After he watches the two of you and Dog make your way across the road, he calls Simon and asks him to comp the lunch for you both.

“No problem—so uh, you sweet on her or something, Negan?” Simon teases.

Negan grunts, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Hey, I’m giving her a free lunch—something you’ve never once asked me for, so it’s not an unreasonableassumption!”

Negan pauses, just long enough that Simon laughs. “I care about her and she’s had a rough day. Besides, you know who she’s dating. That pencil-dick doesn’t take care of her, doesn’t treat her right.”

“He was in here last night, actually,” Simon says, his tone suggesting he’s only just recalled the memory. “Ended up pissing off the date he had with him—no idea why just saw her storm out and leave him on his own. He paid up and left twenty minutes later looking mighty pissed.”

Negan remembers how tired you had looked that morning when he’d watched you carry his coffee to him. How you’d yawned and used the mirror on the back of his office door to apply extra coats of under-eye concealer. Anger swells in his chest as he realizes that Spencer probably stroked out with his date and instead went to your place to take his frustrations out on you.

He chats with Simon for another minute before thanking him, and then Negan ends the call after making plans to come by for drinks later in the week. He’s restless still, after squaring up with the delinquent and former inmate, Shane Walsh. That man had always been trouble, always itching for a fight, never thinking his actions through. Negan only let him come to Saviours because he knew that Shane had gotten a steady job in construction and seemed to be on a better track.

When he’d come downstairs earlier, it was because he had seen Shane grab your wrist from the security camera. He had watched the way you flinched before you spun around and glared, and was on his feet instantly. By the time he got close enough to you, he saw the oddest expression cross your face; you hadn’t noticed him yet, and your eyes had been locked on Shane, and it was like the fight had drained out of you and you had frozen, waiting for whatever came next. Only he had stepped between you and it took everything in him not to knock the lights out of the fucker. He still wishes he had if he were being honest with himself.

That was why he had so much extra energy now. So he took over what you had been doing and tidied the shop. Maggie was behind the counter loading the dishwashers and Dwight was serving customers, the both of them knowing better than to speak to Negan when he was wearing the current dark frown on his face. They did exchange a look, however, after hearing him on the phone. Asking his friend to comp your lunch. But he’d been too focused on his cleaning to notice.

An hour later, he’s in his office looking over a checklist you had created for the upcoming trivia night Saviours was hosting the next week. It’s a fairly easy event to organize; in addition to himself and you, Rosita, Maggie and his newest hire, Paul, would be working. It was catered to the college kids and required pre-registration, which had been filled two hours after you had launched it on the website. They’d come in and compete, spend a fuck ton on booze, and win some prizes. It had been your idea and Negan was happy to help you organize it because it seemed to be important to you that the night was successful.

He hears you before he sees you, and glances up to his half-open door as you approach, a takeaway container in hand, and slip inside the office. You close the door behind you and smile warmly at Negan. He wishes he could wake up every day to that smile next to him in his bed.

“Whatever that is, I hope you’re sharing.”

You giggle in response before tossing the container in front of him. “It’s some of their potato salad; Simon mentioned it was a favourite of yours.”

He watches you for a moment, surprised. You grab the seat across from him and move it around to his side of the desk. You wanted to go over the checklist together today. When you sit, he jokingly says, “You going to eat it in front of me like a tease, doll?”

He hadn’t intended for the words to come out as gruff as they did, but it was a pleasant surprise to witness how quickly you flushed. He smirks; a big part of him always loved watching the little ways you would react to him. Negan thinks that he makes you nervous, and he kind of adores that.

When you laugh, the sound that comes out is more like you’ve pushed the extra air in your lungs out, and you give him an almost awkward smile. “I brought it just for you. The least I could do to thank you for paying for my lunch. Which,” You turn slightly in your seat and he sees your eyes widen a little at the proximity between him and you, “You didn’t have to do, Negan.”

Negan shrugs, “I don’t need to do anything but pay my bills on time, doll,” He doesn’t look away from you, holds your gaze steady as he smirks, “I did that because I wantedto.”

“You make it seem easy, to just…” You trail off, grasping for words, gesturing around idly, “Just, do what you want, when you want. Where did you learn to live life that way?”

He’s surprised by the bitter note in your voice, but he considers your question for a moment. “I guess it was Lucille. After I retired from correctional services, I lost a lot of routines and rules in my everyday life. It’s hard to shake when those things are more than half the reason you stay alive. She helped me remember how to live a little freer, and I took it from there,” You watch him as he speaks, and he uses it as an excuse to drink up and memorize every feature in your face, from your bright eyes to the full lips, all of you soft skin and delicate. “I’ve got a few years on you, doll. It takes time to figure out.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re not an old man, Negan.”

“No,” He agrees, still smirking, “But I am an older man. Which means I’m wise.”

When you laugh again, the sound is so bright and full of joy he grins in response. “Lucille sounds pretty awesome.” He sees the careful way you say it, evidently giving him an easy out if he doesn’t want to talk about her. But with you, Negan doesn’t hesitate the way he might with others.

He wants to share himself with you. “She was a lot of personality in a small package. Always kept me on my toes—she got bored real easy when it came to the everyday. She’d have new hobbies all the time, was good at every single one,” Negan leans forward as he speaks, resting his elbows on his knees. You hold his gaze, instinctively shifting a little closer to him. “Some days I’d come home to find she’d redecorated a whole room in our old place. Other times, it would be a mess of supplies for her latest obsession—cooking, knitting, photography. Hell, she made some pretty good money selling custom tumblers for a while on Etsy.”

You smile widely as he speaks, and he can see that you’re fully interested in everything he says. Learning about Lucille and his life. Your face softens when you reply, “She sounds incredible. I’m so sorry you lost her, Negan.”

He expects you to say as much, but his eyes drop from your face because he doesn’t miss how your hand twitches in your lap. As though you had wanted to reach out a comforting hand, but resisted. He nods slowly, “She didn’t suffer too much, in the end. And we hadn’t been in love for a long time, even before we found out about the cancer.”

Your brows raise in surprise, “Oh I—didn’t realize…but you stayed together?”

Negan nods again, surprised at how easy you are to talk to, “We were drifting, not fighting just not interested, you know? There was no spark anymore. It happens. We just didn’t get to the point of admitting it out loud before she was diagnosed,” He lifts his head to find you watching him intently now. “Damn women told me to move on and I said no fucking way. Sold the house, almost everything in it—gave some shit to Simon to store for me—and we went on all the trips we’d never been able to afford. Then we came back and bought this place—which was a real dump—gutted it and made it into Saviours. She had a big chunk of savings she’d put into this, wanting to make sure I had my dream to live with after she was gone. And I think all that happiness kept her going a little longer, long enough for her to help me run things here. After she was gone I found out about the insurance and stuff she left to me and I realized she knew she was sick a lot longer than I did.”

Your hand shoots forward without hesitation now, seeking his and squeezing it gently, “She probably knew you’d sacrifice everything to take care of her, even though you weren’t in love with each other anymore. That’s….Negan, you’ve been through so much,” Negan can’t concentrate as hard as he wants on your words, because he’s still stunned you’re touching him, at how he feels like a teenager in the ways he reacts to you. “Thank you for sharing her with me.”

“Doll, thank you for listening,” He squeezes your hand now, running his thumb along the smooth skin of your wrist. “She’d have loved you, in case you wondered. You’re the kindest woman I’ve ever known, and she gravitated towards big hearts.”

When you smile, it’s shy and unsure but there’s a brightness in your eyes that tells him how much his words mean to you. “Come on, Negan—you gave up everything to take your dying wife on her dream world tour, you’re the one who’s kind.”

“Lucille and I were always going to be friends, no matter what happened in life. But everything we did—that was my duty and honour as her husband. I took care of her like I take care of anyone that deserves it. And I think you’ve been through a lot too, doll.” He fixes you with a hard look now, hoping that you understand what he’s trying to say and read between the lines.

Your face scrunches with confusion before your eyes widen in understanding a moment later, “Not everyone deserves that—“

“Good thing you aren’t just anyone, though,” He interrupts, and now you can’t seem to look away. You look unsure and begin to lean away, and Negan scoots closer to you, his hands coming up to rest on your upper arms gently, “I hope you know that. You’re family and this place, everyone in it—me—we take care of each other.”

You’ve gone still but stiffen at his final words, your expression hardening protectively. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I never have.”

Your chin juts up stubbornly and he can see the armour you’ve had to rely on, the way you close off the moment he tries to turn the conversation in your direction. “Hey, doll, you know that’s bullshit, right?” You frown at Negan, but he doesn’t let you interrupt, “Everyone needs someone in their corner. You can handle yourself just fine, I know that. But we all need support.”

“Daryl supports me.”

“Oh,Daryl. I thought you had yourself a handsome boyfriend?”

Negan knows he’s nearing your limit, but damn it he wants to push you, he’s so curious and determined to find out what the hell Spencer does to make you so unhappy. And to know what makes you stay with him. You’re angry now, glaring at Negan but still not trying to pull away—instead, you lean closer.

“Spencer Monroe is the worst human being on this fucking planet. He doesn’t do anything for anyone but himself,” Negan stares at you in surprise. Your voice is low and so full of hate, especially when you say Spencer’s name, it almost makes him want to recoil. It doesn’t suit you. “Daryl is my family, he knows why…he gets it. Gets me.”

“Can’t you see I’m trying to do the same, doll?” His grip on your arms tightens a little, and then he’s trailing on hand down, his eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, he traces over the covered skin of your inner arm where he knows you hide your pain and scars. “I just want to understand you. I care about you too.”

Negan is giving you such an earnest, soft look that you want to crawl into his lap and let him hold you, but your instincts are on full alert, telling you to be careful. When his hand moves down your left arm, you aren’t sure what he’s doing until he finds the sleeve at your wrist and starts to push it up.

Your first reaction is to pull away, but you stop yourself, your arm twitching oddly. If he wants to know you, he can know this. You aren’t ready, or even sure if you can talk to him about Spencer. But this is something that you can let him see. You don’t know how the conversation got to this point. He’d been reminiscing sweetly about Lucille one moment and then it was like a switch had flipped and he seemed intent on you knowing he cared about you.

You believed him. You wanted to trust him, too, but it was terrifying. Not just because you had feelings for the man in front of you. It was also because other than Daryl, every other man in your life had let you down. If you told Negan everything, he would run, there was no doubt in your mind. He was a good man, but you were a hot mess and didn’t deserve his care.

“Negan, I—“

“Shh, doll,” He murmurs, his eyes now on your arm as the sleeve moves up your arm. You sit still and watch him reveal the lines that start halfway up, some of them faded and healed over time, and others still scabbing over their colour angry red. He pulls in a heavy breath, releasing his hold on your other arm to roll your sleeve just above the crook of your elbow. He then switches arms and repeats the actions until both of your inner forearms are bared for him. You feel hot shame until his voice breaks into your thoughts. “Oh, pretty, you’re breaking my damn heart.”

You gulp, unsure of how to respond. You register the new nickname, the emotion behind it. His expression is a mixture of sadness and something you can’t quite put a label on. It makes you nervous and you tremble slightly, “It’s a…bad habit. An outlet.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” He reassures you, but then he’s dropping to his knees before you and running each hand gently over the scars and cuts as he moves to sit between your thighs. He says your name softly, waiting until you look at him again, “Whatever—whoever— makes you do this, drives you to this outlet, you don’t need to tell me. But it’s not right, not a fair way to treat yourself.”

You nod, having heard nearly the same come from Daryl when he’d discovered your dark secret long ago. “I know. I can’t help it…I can’t stop.” You admit, and the tears you had been holding back begin to leak out, and instead of Negan pulling back in alarm and awkwardly grabbing you a tissue, he moves his hands to your face, cupping gently, his thumbs brushing at the tears.

“Next time, call me. Come to me. I’d bet my left nut Daryl has told you the same and you tell yourself you don’t want to be a burden, but I’m telling you right now you could knock on my door at three in the morning and I’d never be annoyed with you, pretty,” You let out a watery giggle at his choice of words, your hands coming together in your lap and wringing in anxiety.

Negan sees this and holds your gaze steady, “I’m fucking serious. We can do anything you want or nothing at all, but instead of hurting yourself I want you to come to me and let me distract you.”

The images that play in your mind of the ways that Negan could distract you make you shift in your seat. It’s a desperate mixture of lust and need, the desire to be wanted and touched, the need to be cared for and loved. He wipes at the remaining tears, waiting patiently for you to reply with the most sincerely concerned look. You look into his hazel eyes when you ask him, “Do you promise?”

Your voice is a whisper, but he hears you. You see him assessing you, your words, and you know he senses the doubt. The disbelief that anyone could really care that much about you after only knowing you for half a year. That doubt was never there before Spencer, but he liked to remind you constantly of your faults. Of how lucky you were that he wanted you, and it worked to crush your self-worth even though you knew he kept you as the arm candy he needed, that he didn’t want you the way someone in a relationship should. It was about who you were related to.

“Pretty, I promise you a million times over, you come here holding a severed head and I won’t fucking flinch, okay?”

After a moment of regarding his expression for any trace of a lie, you finally nod. You don’t want to cut anymore, you hate that you ever started. But the way this man was looking at you made you believe he really would let you through his door, night or day, no matter what. And where Daryl would try and talk you into moving your plans forward, Negan didn’t know about any of that. You could seek his comfort and support without having to convince him that a little longer was necessary.

You push forward and suddenly wrap your arms around Negan’s neck, dropping from your chair until you’re on the ground with him, holding yourself against his lean body. After only the slightest hesitation, he secures you in his arms and brushes one hand through your hair. You don’t cry now; instead, you bury your face in his neck and inhale, your senses completely overwhelmed by Negan.

He smells masculine, like coffee and leather and something fresh, maybe his body wash or aftershave. You suppress the desire to moan just at the smell of him and let him hold you. You aren’t sure how much time passes, just that it does and he never lets you go, never makes a noise of discontent even though it must kill to still be on his knees.

You don’t realize it, but you fall in love with Negan Dean at that moment. It’s not about how he says he’ll take care of you. It’s because he means it. He’s gruff but kind and caring, stupidly handsome and protective in a way you’ve never really known. You don’t think you deserve him, but if he’s willing then you’ll accept whatever he can give you.

You just don’t know much that truly is.

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