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Is There Life Out There?

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The sun was shining brightly through the fourth floor window of your bedroom and the sky was a cloudless shade of blue that just demanded for you get out of your room and be a part of it. You dressed quickly, throwing on jeans and a sweater, preparing to spend the afternoon outside.

Once in the stairwell, the rumbling sound of engines returning to the Sanctuary from wherever they 'd been caught your ear, and your heart fluttered with joy. That sound meant only one thing and you rushed, taking the stairs two at a time to greet your returning husband.

As you made your way outside a loud commotion told you to change your direction but curiosity had you sliding against the building to get a peek around the corner. The picture you were met with made your insides seethe. Negan’s men had cornered someone, a man with messy, dark hair, dressed in a sweatshirt that was far too big for him. You didn’t recognize the man which wasn’t unusual since people came and went around the Sanctuary all the time.

Even if you paid attention to the strangers who found shelter in the warehouse, the Sanctuary had become too loud and more crowded than you were comfortable with and you had taken to spending most of your time in your room. Sure, your days were monotonous and lonely but monotonous and lonely was better than what it could be, safer too. Besides if you ever were to get too lonely, you could always count on one of the other wives to alleviate the boredom with a game of cards or maybe after a drink or three, some good old fashioned gossip.

The commotion halted as quickly as it began, and it grew silent, one by one the men dropped like dominoes, taking a knee, with the exception of the man cornered like a trapped rat, who stood defensively, fists raised and eyes darting in every direction, awaiting the next blow. It didn’t take a magic eight ball to figure out who had also heard the commotion and that who wasn’t going to be happy when he finally saw you.

Leisurely, Negan and his damned baseball bat, strolled over toward the gathering of underlings without a care in the world, but when he caught you in his peripheral, his direction changed taking him toward your hiding spot.

A smile rose in your cheeks though your husband was less smiles and more if a growl had an expression, and you stood on tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck, welcoming him home with a tame kiss. His free arm snaked around your waist, pulling you against his side, affectionately crushing you into his leather jacket and you inhaled deeply. His scent was one that had always brought comfort to you.

His deep voice bellowed, scolding the crowd, “It appears you all have upset my angel here.”

You shook your head at the obvious misunderstanding.“No, I'm fine. I just came outside. I... I didn't see..."

Ignoring your denial, your husband's anger grew and he snapped, first at you then at the men. “No, no, no, these sorry sacks know better than to conduct business around any of my girls.”

“They didn't," squirming out from under his arm, you mumbled," Just because you say something, doesn’t make it true.”

But he still heard you. "That’s enough outta you. Go back inside,” He raised an eyebrow at you as a warning before turning back to his minions and walked closer toward the disheveled and bruised man, “Not even here a day and already startin’ shit.”

Upon getting the nod from their leader, several of Negan’s soldiers crowded the prisoner and resumed using their fists on the defenseless man. The dark, dirty hair was strewn across an already swollen and bruised face, but as you defiantly observed the scene from over the artificial safety of Negan’s shoulder, you noticed the man's eyes were full of fire.

When the beat down ended, the man was dragged inside, cursing, shouting and, much to your surprise, still fighting the hands that were struggling to hold him. Someone with that much spirit would never survive long around this place if something wasn't done and for the first time in years you felt compelled to intervene.

Stepping closer to your husband, you stated firmly,as if you were in the middle of a discussion,“Him. I want him.”

Negan did a double take, surprised to still see you standing there, “Thought I told you to go inside.”

“Did you hear me? I want him.”

“No, angel, he’s a prisoner and a pain in the ass, at that.”

“I don't care if he's brothers with the devil. That man just got jumped by all your goons and he’s still fighting. If that was any one of your men, they’d be crying like a newborn with a belly full of gas after taking half of that.”

Through gritted teeth, Negan repeated, slowly, “He is a prisoner."

Folding your arms across your chest, you frowned, “You always say if I want something all I had to do is ask. Well, I'm asking. I need someone capable and he looks damned capable to me.”

“Enough! I said no,” he growled.

Openly pouting with disappointment, Negan steered you back toward the door. As he patted your ass, his lips brushed the top of your head before sending you back inside.



It was late in the day, when without knocking, because he never bothered to knock, Negan entered your room. Though you were happy he chose to visit with you, instead of one of the other wives, you refused to show it, still annoyed from earlier.

Before sitting on the couch, he stood over you, casting a shadow over the pages you were pretending to read, “Got you something.”

“Oh yeah,”you mumbled with disinterest, eyes never leaving the page.

He placed a ceramic cow on your thigh.

Any other day, just hearing you were on his mind while out getting supplies, that he actually brought something back for you, would have sent you over the moon, but right now, it would take a hell of a lot more than a cow to make you soften.

Picking up the ceramic animal, your eyes glanced to his before putting the gift on the end table next to the couch. “Cute.”

Sliding closer, he took the book from your hand and like a teenage boy on his first date, wrapped an arm around you, “Saw it and said to myself, I do believe my angel would love this.”

His angel.

Damn him.

That got you every. single. time.

Maybe you were acting like a spoiled brat? Your teeth tugged at your bottom lip as you thought about his words. He didn’t have pet names for the other wives. That had to mean something, right? In the beginning, long before he had soldiers and needed a harem, you were Negan's first acquisition in the world where the dead didn't stay that way, finding you moments after his wife, his real wife, passed away, just as the world was spiraling into a shit show. It wasn't that you could relate to what he was going through, but you sure knew tragedy. You’d been doggy paddling in that shit for years, and he was the only one who ever offered a hand.

Leaning closer, he nudged your shoulder with his to get your attention, “I promise, we’ll find someone you like better than Larry. Tomorrow, I'll make sure Frankie or someone checks in on you. You know, I’d go to the ends of the earth to make you happy, don't you, angel?”

“I know," you nodded, running your knuckles against his five o’clock shadow, "You need a shave.”

“I need a shave? What about you," he chuckled, as he slipped his hand into your pants, gently caressing your mound as his playful smile brought out his dimples, "What's all this, angel? Are you making 70's porn behind my back? You got a national forest growing in here.”

Feigning umbrage, you slapped at his arm, “Hey! Such a jerk.”

Negan pulled you closer for a kiss, his fingers continued their ministrations until you were squirming against his digits, “You love this jerk.”

You hummed, “Sometimes.”

“Just sometimes,” he questioned, as the hand down your pants, suddenly, stilled and you shamelessly arched up, seeking out more friction. His grin was so wide it seeped into his words, “Tell me you love me.”

You pushed yourself harder against his motionless fingers as a frustrated whine rumbled from your lips.

“Now if you want me to finish playing with this lovely little pussy,” the tip of his finger tapped your needy and engorged clit after every word, teasing you. “I want to hear the words, angel.”

Pressing your face into the side of his arm, sinking your teeth, lightly into his flesh before giving him exactly what he wanted, “You know I love you, you big jerk.”

“That’s Mr. Big Dicked Jerk and don’t you forget it,” he said as he scooped you up into his arms and lay you down on your unmade bed.

After he set you down on he bed, you stripped off your clothes and leaned back on your elbows, spreading yourself to his eyes.

Taking a step back, he drank in the sight of you, wet and wanting, all for him. Unlike the other wives, who came to the Sanctuary with a husband, or a boyfriend, you had only been Negan's. Sure, he wasn't the only man you'd been with, you were an adult woman, after all, but no one in the building had ever tasted your charms. It was a luxury that would always be his and his alone.

“Now get over here and fuck me already, you big dicked jerk.”

Chuckling, Negan shed his clothes and was quick to comply.