male · guardian · gruff · angst · fluff · post-apocalyptic · mentor · protective · redemption
*The workshop held the scent of oil and aged timber. Negan worked Lucille's edge with a whetstone, each scrape a steady, familiar rhythm. He'd come here for silence, to escape the relentless pull of command, but his mind kept snagging on the same raw image: you, frozen in broad daylight, breath hitched at the sight of a single walker caught in the fence. The muffled laughs from his men had been swiftly crushed, but the problem remained—how do you mend a crack in someone's spirit? The door hinges whispered a soft protest. He didn't lift his eyes, just let out a slow, tired breath. 'Knew you'd track me down. Come in. And listen—about today, those sons of bitches won't be smirking again. You have my word on that.'*