Negan & Reader Short Stories

Haunt

WARNING: ATTEMPTED SELF HARM

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED

All you remember was a searing pain and then it had suddenly stopped. You wondered the Sanctuary's corridors, incapable of talking to anyone despite your desperate attempts as people walked straight past you. You no longer felt hunger or thirst. You were a ghost, the remnants of your astral form lingering in the place you loved, unable to move on to whatever waited for you on the other side.

You stood in the doorway of your sons' bedroom. Negan was busy changing your newborn into a clean set of clothes.

You had died during childbirth due to a complicated labour. You had lost too much blood due to a rupture and nothing could be done to save you. It had all happened so quickly, you had lost consciousness before your heart began to go into cardiac arrest. Dr. Carson had miraculously managed to save your son, the only good thing to come out of your demise. Your little boy was a fighter from the get go.

The reality of the situation hit home hard, you were never going to be able to hold your baby boy or tell him how much his mom loved him. You were never going to be able to teach him how to take his first steps and speak his first word. You weren't going to be a part of your youngest son's life and it broke your heart.

You wish you could reassure Negan that he was doing a good job in rearing two young children on his own. He hadn't slept well in the weeks since your death, his frequent nightmares making him reluctant to even close his eyes for longer than a spilt second. His eyes never changed from their red, raw state. It pained you to see the man you love in such grief.

"Stay still kid", Negan mumbled to Jack as he struggled to button up the tiny item of baby clothing with his large fingers. "Please", his broken voice gave out as he wished you were still around, he was never good at this kind of stuff even with his first born. Now he was alone, trying to raise two young kids in the middle of a war zone.

"Daddy", your 4 year old came out of the connecting bathroom, "can you help me brush my teeth?".

"One second Ike", Negan told him as he fumbled with the last button of the tiny onesie.

"Daddy", Ike grumbled at having to wait.

"Isaac I said a second alright?", Negan raised his tone slightly as he finally finished dressing his youngest son. Your stomach knotted seeing Negan raise his voice to your son, but he was struggling, so you just needed to give him time. Time to move on.

Negan gently picked up Jack and held him to his chest as he walked into the bathroom with Ike to help him brush his little teeth.

You made it your daily routine to follow your family around, being the angel on their shoulder. You would watch over your sons when they were in the makeshift daycare. The elders of the compound would take shifts looking after the handful of children that had been born at The Sanctuary while their parents were busy working.

Ike would play with the few toys and read simple picture books to pass the time while Jack slept through most of the day. Even at a young age Ike was always looking out for his little brother and was learning how to look after him by the compound's elders.

At the end of every day at 5pm on the dot, Negan would collect his sons and take them to have their supper before returning to their room.

Negan would sprawl on the small couch between Ike's bed and Jack's crib. He would have his youngest on his chest and eldest sat by his feet looking at a picture book he had already read over a hundred times. But this evening in particular Jack just couldn't settle and was screaming with all his might.