The Walking Dead Negan - Tumblr Posts

PISSIN' OUR PANTS YET?

💕Pairing: Negan x Reader x Daryl

📝Summary:

Walking through the paths of solitude in a diseased and silent world, you come across the memory of the old civilisation.

Stumbling across the highness of it you stay and discover that curiosity does not kill the cat but brings a change for good or bad. In its throne sits a king in a leather jacket, pointing at you with a wired bat and he asks you who you are.

Will your answer make the good reign or will hell unleash upon?

✏️Genre/au: Canon, The Walking Dead fanfiction, Action, Smut, Sci-fi, Complicated Romance, Strangers to lovers

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

📝Wordcount: mentioned on each chapter

⚠️chapter warnings: Smut, explicit smut, gore and blood, tirany, surveillance, toxic relationships, manipulation (+ warnings on each part), dub-consent, non-consent

A/N: Hii! Did you stumble across this work? Glad you're here 😊

This is a long going story 👀 Expect it to be posted every 14 days on Wednesday 😊

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

Chapter 1: HAIL TO THE KING

Chapter 2: MATCH IN THE GAS TANK

Chapter 3: THE ROAD

Chapter 4:

Chapter 5:

Chapter 6:

Chapter 7:

Chapter 8:

Chapter 9:

Chapter 10:

Chapter 11:

Chapter 12:

Chapter 13:

Chapter 14:

Chapter 15:

Chapter 16:

Chapter 17:

Chapter 18:

Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

Chapter 21:

Chapter 22:

Chapter 23:

Chapter 24:

Chapter 25:

Chapter 26:

Chapter 27:

Chapter 28:

Chapter 29:

Chapter 30:

© 2018-2024 Cherry Soulth, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, or unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

Pissin' Our Pants Yet?- Chapter 2: Match in the gas tank

💕Pairing: Negan x Female Reader 

✏️Genre/au: Canon, Action, Smut, Sci-fi, The Walking Dead Fic

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

📝Wordcount: 9954

⚠️chapter warnings: Shitloads of cursing, Gore details (zombies), Mentions of cults, mentions of cult practices, dictatorship status

<<< 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1 | 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3 >>>

Hii! Did you stumble across this work? Glad you're here 😊 Please, let me know your thoughts once you are finished. Feedback keeps me motivated to write 😁

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

My gratitude goes to @alldevilsarehere90 for her hard work on beta reading 🧡

The silence quickly spread across the room. He wants that kind of social pressure on you. He wants you to feel the tension of the expectancy on you to give the right answer.

"I. Am. Negan." You say in a firm tone, as his eyes study you closely.

You realise now why he chose this moment and does not wait for you to be more integrated. Being Negan means giving up your identity to be part of the team, doing things as a group, as Negan would. If you were not Negan, your attack on George would then have been an attack on Negan. So, even if you don't mean it, it was the only possible answer.

"That's true, you fucking are!" he smiles at you with a wolf grin. "Let's see what succulent dinner my wives have made tonight. See what I was talking about? This will be my treat for your cooperation earlier. Still though! You can ask for anything you want." he says, rubbing his hands first then looking at you from up with a smile. "Anything..."

After that little moment of initiation, you follow him through the backstairs in the building, to the top floor where his chambers are. Two beautiful women in elegant black dresses are waiting, leaning on the frames of the double doors. They both look surprised to see you but not a single word leaves their perfectly painted lips.

"I'm going to make myself comfy and then I'll show you around." He gestures for you to come into his room but you stay in front of the open door, seeing how black and grey reign in his private space. It looks fancy, neat, with the big squared windows giving light to the space, it contrasts the general shadow staining the hallways on your way here. One that isn't real an illusion feeling towards the unknown. What is his life like when he is there, alone or with his wives? His mouth twitches, followed by a raised eyebrow in what you interpret as his way of saying 'Ok, don't come in then'.

You watch as he takes his jacket off and does the same with his white tee. Now, you can see his toned back and some tattoos on his body. An old marine unit sticks out in his upper arm, as the only one with known meaning for you. The rest seem pretty personal, you would need to ask about them to get more understanding.

He's not too muscular but sexy as hell. Gorgeous. It stirs those basic instincts in you, making you want to kiss his jaw, his neck, his throat going down his chest. Bite him, lick him. You gulp, without realising. As he grabs a clean piece of clothing and, he reprimands you , with fun, easily read in athe singsong tone.

"I know you're staring."

Instantly you look away towards the wife at your right, then to the left one. They both are giving you a pitiful look. You can only guess it's because Negan can't see them. You've seen their earlier reaction when he arrived: fear. Almost perfectly covert with stoicism but too familiar to miss. 'Why do they fear him? They are his wives. Is he mistreating them?' The idea angers you.

"You ok? Have you seen a ghost?" asks Negan, snapping you out of your thoughts, being just a few centimeters right in front of you. Then you notice the wives are back to staring to the front again, like two beautiful fallen angels protecting their master's door.

"Yes. I mean... No. What are we having?" you wonder in an almost childish tone following the rhythm of his earlier reprimand, letting him pass and following his way. 'Why is everyone so scared of him?' Then something twists in your stomach, sensing the danger possibly creeping in the shadows, from the nervous atmosphere suffocating the room..

As you take a tour through each floor, you can observe there's a general flow in the decoration, since his living room matches his quarters and at the same time is similar to the one in his wives' dormitory. Negan has shown you around when he's decided to 'ask' a subtle order- the wives to add another plate for you at dinner and the four women in that room glanced at you sympathetically while Negan explained to you how having his wives can make him feel human again.

Those stares on their own, would have pissed you off at another time but for some reason, it hasn't hit yet. You are not sure what that look is for, anyway. 'Do they think I'll become a new wife or something...?' you brush it off, not really caring about what they might think about you.

You see the general palette: black, grey, silver, champagne and gold. Except for the flowers on the table: red velvet roses. Perfect, as if they were specially chosen for an advertisement. Everything looks as if you are not at the end of the world at all but in a luxurious house, except for the windows that shake you back to reality. Dust stains them since there's no way to clean them from the outside at this height, but you can still see through them clear enough, the extension of terrain where walkers may lurk between the trees. The outside world that once was precious to look at from above but now just makes you think how harsh it is to walk in it. Truly harsh.

You are surprised by Negan's classy ways. You would have expected something more like a gangster-style kind of thing; sexist, with strippers or at least a pool bar. Maybe because some of his guys look like the kind that lack such classic taste, who prefer vulgar stuff and looking at a woman like they are meat, only made to please them. Maybe you are just judging by bad experiences, you don't know these people anyway, because you have found this place to look like a king's harem instead.

You used to like motorbike gangs. Most of them were cool, some were even hot. Usually, you got involved with a guy from a club and fled before things got too serious. Especially if they got emotional.

Your mum and dad had you and your brother at a young age as a consequence of their love. He was a police officer and ended up being shot when he tried to arrest a thief. That was one of the reasons for you to avoid falling in love with someone, that fear of people dying on you. But a broken heart was the main reason.

You had a boyfriend once and you fell in love blindly. The guy was too broken or you were too young and inexperienced to help him at all. You tried your best, god knows you did, but it all ended up as a useless effort.

He had been your first love, your first in all and that always leaves a mark.

You avoided drugs and guns too, even though you knew some people inside the gangs worked on that. You were just a hangar under or maybe they considered you a lay on, - although you never heard them use that word towards you because of your brother's association with a club. If they ever did though, you were deaf to stigmas in order to avoid being banned from entering a club, for causing trouble because of those comments. You needed to be thick-skinned when it came to male-centred clubs because sexist jokes or comments were almost the norm.

The percentage of drug dealers in motorbike gangs was really low but you happened to come across the wrong people a couple of times. Especially when it came to your ex-boyfriend's brother who was a dealer and a consumer. 'Even with that, those were easier times,' you think 'Or at least I didn't have that many life-threatening situations...' Your brother and your ex made sure to keep you away from trouble as they knew what was behind the curtains and wasn't shown publicly.

His wives are already seated at the table when you snap back into your current reality. As he properly introduces them to you, you notice that they are all dressed in black and high heels like the other two, they look ready for a party in the hot spot club of the moment. But it seems more like you are at a funeral with the kind of tension coming from them with the; 'I don't know what to say' hanging heavy in the air. You think that someone else, in your place, would feel uncomfortable because of it but you like them, like someone that enjoys a bird that's inside a cage. Beautiful creatures on display.

Some people feel the need to free them, and you are that type.

You do not understand how their relationship with Negan works. So far you get that Negan likes to explain things loud and clear, so you probably just have to ask a question, sit down and listen but you don't know if it is a sensitive subject to break on your first night in this place. Especially in front of his wives. 'Six wives!' you think. 'What is he trying to compensate for?'

The wives almost don't say a word during the dinner and you just add the necessary conversation just to keep Negan talking. You need to know more about him, how he thinks, how he moves but he starts to talk about the attack on his outpost and the fact that it has to be a group running around his territory without him knowing who they are. He seems pissed about it again by the way he chews on the bread. The ones he knows don't have enough nuts to defy him this way, according to him.

"So, honey, what have you seen before you arrived at the mall?" he asks before putting the fork with the last veggies in his mouth. The redhead wife, who presented herself as Frankie, looks at you for a second, seeming surprised.

"Do you want a full report of the situation surrounding your safe perimeter or do you want just the general concept? I'm gonna need some maps and our current location, to be able to do the first but in general, everything is screwed up. I've seen a couple of places where you can get interesting stuff, useless for other groups, useful here." you explain, while you play with a pea with your fork. Sherry, at this point, asks if you need to be left alone.

"No, it's fine, finish your dinner, sweetheart," he tells her in a gentle tone and then returns his attention to you. "So, hearing the way you said that, it sounds as if you had military training. Were you infrom the Army?" he asks genuinely curious but with his normal tone.

"My mum was. She taught me to be the tough person I am now," for the way he looks at you fully focused on your words, you understand he wants you to keep talking. "She died a few months ago, along with my brother and I left the group I was with. No hard feelings, no shit, I just couldn't stand to care about someone else... and see them die too." Then you see something in his eyes like it resonates with him, something deep down his soul that he shows from his heart, just for a second. Only to compose himself with that intimidating look that clearly hides his feelings.

'That ain't about the men he lost last night' you think. 'Who have you lost, big bad wolf?'

After the wives leave for the night, you two stay chatting about all kinds of things that come to mind. Just as if you were two friends catching up with each other's lives after a long time apart. At least that's how one could see the scene because there is a point where you can tell he's somehow letting his guard down with you with how he speaks and what he says, even his gestures.

It's not difficult to know, aside from his comfortable stance of walking around the world like he owns it, he's always aware of everything. And at the end of the day, it must be exhausting. Even with that in mind, you can't fully pity him for what he is and what he means to other people. There's also the fact of how easy he's making things for you, when you are sure there's others who have had to claw their way up to the top. Or so you've assumed from what George said.

It means he has something in mind for you. Things are never this easy and when they are, there's always something behind it. There's always a price to pay. Breaking the silence that's formed after your internal cognition, you excuse yourself, wanting to get back to your room and he insists on escorting you.

"It's been a pleasure, Negan. It was the best meal I've had in a long, long time," you say to him when you are just a few steps from your door. "Thank you. Have a nice sleep. I'm sure I will." you give him a little smile, more out of tiredness than gentleness.

"No goodnight kiss?" he questions, when you open your door, putting an arm against the door frame with a smile, while you enter backwards to keep facing him.

"I don't think so," you answer, arching an eyebrow while turning to take off your jacket and leave it draped on a chair.

"What a shame! Maybe tomorrow... Goodnight darlin'." he says, staring back at you for a second with that smile before he starts to walk back to the corridor. You stand there listening to his footsteps retreating as he walks away. It has been an intense day but at least tonight you have one less worry: you aren't going to wake up with a walker chewing your face off. The rest is just the same.

It takes you practically seconds to fall asleep once you get inside the covers and your head falls onto the fluffy pillow. Your chat with Negan lasted until the early morning, when everyone seemed to have gone to bed, quietness reigning inside The Sanctuary and you are very tired already from sleeping rough on the road. When you are alone, time seems to lose its sense. At some point you stop counting, now you can't remember how long you have actually been alone. You think it has to be at least six months for the seasons' change but that isn't precise enough.

No nightmares this time, but no dreams either. Just the whiteness of an empty mind. At least that is the sensation you feel before the knock on the door breaks your state of mind travelling nowhere and you wake up startled. For a second you panic 'Where the fuck am I !?' as you frantically search for the knives on your belt. Then you remember everything that happened the day before and breathe, as you stand to look through the dirty glass of your window. This new day is starting to break, you can see it in the faded purple and orange that stain the horizon. You wonder what time it must be until you remember the clock. Half past six. 'Why!?' you roar internally for whomever it's outside the door.

"What?" you voice out in a dry and moody tone as you open the door.

"Good morning sweetheart...Uuuh...Nice panties." says Negan, who's already resting his forearm on the door frame. You remember now that you took everything off and just left your panties and top on. 'Like he hasn't seen a woman in her underwear...' "You ain't wanna go out like that, right? So hurry up and get dressed, it's time to see what kind of cards you keep up your sleeves." you have already started to dress before he's even ended the sentence. "So," he says as he leans with his right side against the door following your every move with his dark eyes. "Today you'll go with Arat. You're gonna check the places you told me about yesterday. And that better be good, 'cause I'm coming too." he adds with a grin and some brow raising.

"I thought the king would be too busy doing..." you roll your wrist while looking away as if you are thinking. "Whatever kings do..." you conclude looking at him. "If they do anything at all," you add in a lower tone, as you turn around to pick up your backpack from the closet.

"You think you're funny, uh?" he says, faking offence. When you turn around his smile tells you he did find that funny.

"You look like you had a good fu--sleep last night." 'He's not your friend. His private life has nothing to do with you.' you think while tying your boots. To your surprise, there's no immediate response or a joke and when you look at him, he seems to be trying to decipher you as if you were talking another language.

"Are you... jealous?" he asks you as if having a lot of fun with the question. You know he is joking but you roll your eyes. "The candy shop is open for you too, darling. You just have to ask for your favourite sweet," he adds, bouncing his knees thrustingraising his pelvis, as a sexual insinuation.

"Jealousy is for insecure people or those who see a cheating bastard on their partner or cheat themselves. Besides...I should feel or have something for or with you for that to be even possible. So, no. I'm sorry for your ego but the answer is no." you answer, as you walk to the door expecting him to move aside to let you pass but instead he walks towards you. "I don't want sweets either. You can get decayed teeth." 'I can be metaphoric too, you know?' you add for yourself.

"I know I'm growing on you. Since the moment we met," he tells you, with a hot voice that runs chills down your spine. 'What if I do? It doesn't mean anything is gonna happen.' you say to yourself. He gets so close, his mouth is almost touching yours. "Besides...We do have something." that thought gets lost in your mind when you feel his breath on your mouth and kiss him, letting passion do its own work.

You put your hands around his nape between his deliciously warm skin and his leather jacket. Your lips smoothly caress his and you feel the wetness at the centre, inviting the caress from the tip of your tongue before you deepen the kiss. Then you stop for a second, without letting him go, just to take his lower lip between yours. Just after a second, you're back to attach your mouths again. Meanwhile he grabs you by the thighs to put himself between your legs, then moves to press your back against the wall. But when he puts his hand under your top where it meets your hip, something switches inside your head.

"Ok, ok, ok. You proved a point here." You say, breathlessly. To that, he lets you down softly.

"I'm not sure about that. I think I could keep with this all day long...Just to make sure you get it." he says without moving, proudly looking at you from above, with a mischievous smile.

"I don't think that's gonna happen." then you recall that's what you said last night. 'Be more true to your word if you want to be taken seriously.' you tell yourself. "What I mean is, stop playing with me. I don't want this mess. Just be with your wives and leave me out of it." Just as soon as you say that, you leave your room with the devil hot on your trails if chased by the devil.

Minutes later, you ask the first Saviour you find in the hallways where to go to find Arat because all corridors are so similar you are not even sure where you are anymore. You find her near a truck. Negan is already there, bouncing and giving orders while some jump in vehicles and head out. As soon as you reach Arat, Negan gives you two maps and instructions, acting as if you are just any other Saviour. Exactly what you want, even though you still have the taste of his mouth in yours and it's driving you insane.

It's been too long in abstinence and he's like the red juicy apple for Eve.

You and Arat are meant to go to the head of the convoy, just behind Negan's truck. There are another four trucks that will take other routes with him, to be able to check other spots near the one that's been chosen for you; the abandoned school, to try and find out if there's anything interesting.

When everything started, the schools were used as camps for the special forces because of the open spaces and many classrooms. So there could be something left behind.

But you don't get that lucky. After expecting to find a good load of guns, it seems that the army left only a few men here. As far as you can see, they were attacked by walkers while they were trying to move the few survivors to the military helicopter. You two start clearing out the outside from the last walkers wandering around and decide to leave the inside of the building for later, in case a herd decides to appear and you lose the chance to pick up the stuff that's waiting outside for whoever wants to take it.

You start checking the place for any weapons left on the floor and any car that might still be useful.

"This one is fine," you say to Arat after checking a four-wheel engine but after looking for the keys in every place inside the car, it comes up empty. "It needs a jump starter, the keys are nowhere to be seen," you tell her, then notice she isn't near anymore, searching for her you see she's putting a couple of assault rifles and some ammunition inside the cab of your truck while she keeps an eye on where you are.

Then, both of you walk to a unit for medical supplies in sync, you open the door like the SWAT would do and a walker comes out after a few seconds, falling through the stairs. Just to find himself stubbed with a throwing knife. You two enter and check if there are no other walkers inside. The place is clear and kind of clean, with only little stripes of skin stuck to any sharp edge as if the walker has been moving around the room attracted by something that's been outside.

"Pick up three plastic boxes." Arat orders, so you walk outside directly to the van.

"Kyle, do you see anything?" you ask through the radio to one of the Saviors. His mission is to look after you and Arat from a highway road next to where you are. He's using a sniper to see more accurately if anything moves around to the camp.

"Two lost souls, no horde. I see many walkers through the windows of the building. Be safe." says the man cutting the communications.

When you two have put the medical supplies in the back seat of the truck, you two decide it's time to check inside the building.

You two stay in front of the door for a few seconds before pushing the entrance open. The hallway is clear all the way along the school, as you move around to take the fire extinguishers and other supplies that were left along the walls. Mainly boxes with basic camp supplies such as; torches, batteries, pillows, blankets, disposable medical outfits and masks that you two put on a metallic trolley. Next to it, you notice an exhibitor with yearbooks and trophies. Taking everything to the truck that Arat has now moved to the front of the building to ease the work.

Once you've emptied the corridors, you two move room to room from the entrance all the way back to the rear doors.

The library is full of books but there's only one body sitting at the study tables with a bullet wound in the head and a handgun still held by his unanimated fingers. Taking the gun and checking there's still bullets inside, you place it in your backpack. You also check inside the librarian's desk and find a gold handwatch and a bottle of Nina Ricci perfume. You place them in your backpack too. On your radio, you notify the scavenge party that's with Negan, about the books on the next channel. The man on the line says they'll pick it all up later. Somehow you expected Negan to answer but you shake yourself out of the thought.

'That can only end badly. Stop thinking about it.'

You meet Arat at the entrance as she walks carrying a box towards the truck. There you take the watch out of the backpack and place it between the sheets inside of it, taking one of the material bedding with you back inside the library, to cover the body with it.

"Why am I not surprised?" says Arat leaning on the door frame. "Don't bother, he's going to be left outside. We don't waste time burying people." You are not surprised because it would be a task that never ends if you buried every single dead body you found. But you still leave the body covered before following her.

As you open the science classroom door, you're met with a huge walker, coming at you, desperate to eat your fresh flesh. You stab him in the cerebellum through the jaw with your hunting knife. But before you are even able to open the lab cabinets, you hear Arat's footsteps approaching you.

"What are you doing here?" she asks impatiently as if you are wasting time.

"We need to pack this stuff, it can be useful for someone who knows how to use it."

Arat raises her shoulders in response. "Fine. But leave it for later, let's keep going. I've found the rest of the supplies in the gym but there's some dead-not-so-dead there." she says.

You take your knives from your belt and nod. You two walk the hallway side by side and push the door open with opposite feet. She kills the first walker with her hunting knife and you throw your knives putting three others out of their misery, as she kills another one from further away before it even has time to come her way. You kill the last one left with your own hunting knife.

"Good job." she congratulates you, as you move to pull out your knives from the putrid skulls.

"Thank you," you nod, as you clean them with a rug hanging from the edge of a bed. There you notice a couple of bodies between the lined-up bunk beds, shot in the head. When you look around there's more. Placed exactly like that. What you hate the most about it, is that it doesn't phase you. Something that would have kept you awake at night almost three years ago, doesn't affect you that much anymore. You've stopped trying to see the person behind the corpse in order to keep your sanity but they were people and they were shot before turning.

"At least they didn't suffer," Arat tells you from behind as she picks up a box.

"But why would they do this if they had supplies?" you wonder. She stops for a second and looks around, then towards the supplies.

"You saw what happened with the helicopter, maybe there were too many of those things around and they thought it was the best they could do." she says as she places a box in your hand. "The ones we've killed just now, they weren't shot. So they didn't have enough bullets to defend themselves and there was definitely not enough food to feed this many people."

"They thought they would starve to death because of the walkers and decided to end it before that," you reply in understanding. Some bodies were chewed on by the ones that died in other ways. "The ones we've found in the other classrooms were locked from the inside..." you tell her as you two walk down the hallway. You can only imagine why. "We should park the truck next to the emergency door, we'll go faster. I'll go pack the lab stuff and I'll take it to the gym."

While she manoeuvres the van, you manage to open the cupboards and fit a first cardboard box full of test tubes and other glass materials. You decide to leave the chemicals for later and run to pick up the trolley from the entrance to place the boxes in it and go to the gym. While Arat places some supply boxes filled with dry food and other survival supplies, you position your boxes in the gap behind your seats. Pulling up the folding bed to be able to place them next to each other and avoid piling them up. Then you jump out to help her with the boxes and a defibrillator that was in the gym instead of the medical unit, for some reason.

When everything is on the back of the truck you two take a walk around the playground at the back of the building, directed to where the four-wheel is so you can drive it to find the rest of your group. That's when you find something you didn't expect in the slightest; a flamethrower. Without thinking twice about it but knowing you probably shouldn't have, you aim it at the school bus, which is already a little bit tatty and shoot against it.

'I might never get another chance...' you think with a smile on your face.

"Did someone hate school?" you hear Negan from the radio in a fit of laughter, probably watching the scene from the highway too, and in a matter of seconds Arat appears.

"I wouldn't have guessed this would happen today. Now, I know you're having fun, but, stop playing with that shit. I want it." he says, the last part with a stark, authoritative tone that reminds you which position he holds above you all.

You don't answer to the radio but roll your eyes as Arat gets down from the cabin and walks towards you, along with the radio in her hand and a cheeky smile. When you start to walk towards her, you hear a weird noise, like metal cracking and you two drop to the floor just as an explosion bursts behind you.

"Are you psychotic!?" asks Arat, not smiling anymore and still on the floor. The noise of flames and metallic parts falling around is almost deafening

"What the hell just happened!?" you ask, eyes wide open in shock. Your confusion clears, thinking you were being attacked before you realize what you've just done.

"You did it, you silly bitch!" she says laughing from the depths of her lungs. "What are you surprised about!?"

When you look behind, the bus you've just burned is all messed up with pieces of it surrounding you. You two were lucky to not get badly hurt or winding up dead by the shrapnel. You just have a few cuts, the same as Arat.

"Was that supposed to happen!?" you ask even more surprised now that you understand the mess you've just made. She shrugs her shoulders.

"Are you guys ok!?" you hear Negan's voice over the radio.

"We are heading in your direction, are you under attack?" says Dwight, getting on the frequency. You hear the sound of their engines in the distance.

"Negative. I just bombed a school bus!" you say, starting to laugh. "Oh my God! That was...fun," you say as you keep laughing.

"How old are you? Ten?" Dwight replies, trying to sound serious but you can hear in his tone he's actually amused. "Be careful that's sure to call the attention of the walkers," he warns, cautiously.

"Don't be such a pussy, Dwight! You think I'll let the ladies be eaten like a red velvet cake by those tasteless pieces of shit?" says Negan. "Not on my watch," he adds, with no reply from Dwight. Not that he expected one, of course. "Coast's clear, ladies. Pack whatever you found and get hell out of there 'cause we can't see shit through the woods."

"Yes, sir." you hear Arat answer dutifully through her radio. "Seems like we are done here," she tells you while turning towards the truck.

You put the flamethrower with the rest of the stuff in the trunk and make sure everything is safe inside for the journey. Then you head to the road following her with the car, you see through the mirrors that some walkers are arriving at the place.

'What counts is not the amount, it's their position and they are coming from everywhere.'

"Negan, you see that?"

"Hm... Yeah. It might be risky just for some books." he says. "Boys, turn around, we'll pick up the readin' if we drive by. Another day," he orders.

When you two meet with the rest of the convoy, you find Negan staring at you as if he's going to lecture you like an undisciplined child. Instead, he just checks what's in the back of the vehicle to have an overview of everything.

"Well done! That's a good load!" he says, with a smile that doesn't fool you or anyone who knows him. The tension in his voice says otherwise, and you are unsure if he's even trying to hide that fact. When he gets near his car, you realise that he's having the courtesy to wait for you two to be alone to say whatever he needs to. From what you've picked up from Arat, Negan's very public about everything. So it has to be bad. "Alice, you'll drive with me. I think we have to discuss some of the rules again." Just like that, without giving an option, he jumps inside his car and puts the engine on.

You hop in and wait for some shouting and blaming but instead, he remains silent for a bit

.

Come as you are by Nirvana sounds on the music player masking the silence.

"What in the fucking fuck were you thinking!?" he says suddenly while looking at you sideways. "I'm good at reading people and I don't fucking think you are one of those kamikaze shit-fucks who don't give a fuck about dying or getting someone else dead. SO. Tell me, are you nuts!? 'cause I would like to know before I put someone else at fucking risk because of a sudden fantastic idea you might have..."

"Don't be an asshole! I might seem nuts to you but I didn't know that was going to explode like a fucking balloon!" you respond, rolling your eyes and turning your body towards him.

'Well, I kind of knew. But I thought it wouldn't look the way it does in films.' To that, he calmly pulls the car to the side of the road and with his arm out of the window gestures for the rest of the trucks to keep on their way.

"Ok, then you are just a reckless lady," he says, looking at you as he keeps gesturing. "You are out of the mission. No Saviours for you. I'll find you something to do inside. If that ain't enough, I can be a lot more of an asshole, just try me." he continues looking at you directly, resting his elbow on the top of the headrest.

"Hm, I think that's unbeatable. I think I'll pass, thank you," you say sarcastically, looking at the front quite angry. It takes you a minute to cool down a little and notice that he's right to be angry. Looking at him again, only to see he is giving you the 'no shit' look. "Oh, 'c'mon. I thought you had a sense of humour." you say with a tone still stained with sarcasm causing him to arch a brow, still not smiling.

Then he moves his arm and puts it around your shoulders, and places two fingers down your chin invading your personal space with his body, as he moves. He kisses you, somehow needy, causing you to melt as it turns deeper and sensual, starting to create tension in your lower body. You have the urge to straddle him but instead, you hold yourself back and try to keep up with his kiss. 'He is such a good kisser...' His tongue slides between your teeth and that makes you lose control, pulling him to you by the jacket and cutting the space between your bodies. At the very moment you are about to move on top of him, you hear the growl of a walker as it gets near your side of the car and you pull away quickly.

" 'C'mon baby don't run away again," he says, with a heated tone, almost sweetly, as well as a little bit frustrated. This time it's you who kisses him with your hands at the sides of his face.

"I'm not doing this here with a half-rotten undead dude trying to get into the car to eat our asses off. Simply not my kink." With that, you free yourself from his hold and make yourself comfy on the seat. "By the way, you better not look me down on me like another one of your caged birds or be sure there will never be another kiss for you from these lips. Just biting and blood," you warn him, meeting his eyes directly. To your surprise, he doesn't say a thing, instead, he chuckles and starts the car again.

When Negan pulls in at Sanctuary and you jump out of the car, you listen in to what Simon is explaining to Negan.

There's a place named Alexandria, where the people that killed the Saviours in the outpost live. Then they laugh about someone called Gregory and Negan gives orders to a group to go find those people the next day.

You take the chance to get away and head to the showers. It's not as if he will not know where you are if he wants to, you are aware of that. Even with that, you need some space from him. 'Don't let him play you around. You are stronger than that.' you think. 'It will be just for fun, no emotions involved' speaks your demon, very convincingly.

You step into the cubicle and turn on the shower, the water runs warm just a few seconds later. It falls over your body taking with it the dirt and sweat from your work with Arat. You wonder why you are letting yourself get so carried away with him. You don't even know him. Some of his character traits can be analyzed by his behaviour but you can't really know how he is without being too involved. He does not have friends, only subjects and that's exactly the way he treats them. 'How could I ever get to know who he really is?'

Negan looks like the kind of guy who knows where his place in the world is. Self-confident. But these kinds of things are usually the ones that get girls and women confused, what he does is what matters. How he treats you and the people that surround him, not what he says or what he tries to scheme. The wives' behaviour is a red flag and the smart choice would be to run away. As usual norm noone is ever an exception to the rule if they do it to another person they will do it to you, no exceptions.

Most people who need to exercise control above everyone around them are usually abusers at one level or another. You understand that Negan uses power to control people and also violence to punish those who don't follow the rules. It's an acceptable measure in extreme times like this but still, unacceptable if he overpowers his wives to make them do what he wants. Instead of running like your instinct and knowledge tell you, you choose to stay, thinking that it is too early to judge.

You come out of the shower all built up in your decision, then get dried and dress in the same clothes you wore the first day you came here. Clothes aren't so difficult to scavenge but someone's bothered to wash them and leave them folded over your bed. Thing that you appreciate since you've been in this placeset is, without any doubt, it's very comfortable. You finally put on your new boots. When you go out, there's no one in front of the bathroom but still you walk to your room stealthily. You come across Sherry who seems to go around just as careful as you do. For good or bad, you think maybe that's a sign from the cosmos to ask her some things.

"Sherry, can I talk to you?" she gives you a suspicious look, as if she thinks you're untrustworthy. "Please," you put your hands together, pleading.

"Sure, follow me," she says and, with an unsure look in her eyes, leads you to some back stairs that don't seem very busy. "Go ahead."

"It's about Negan. I need to know how he is." First, she seems troubled, then she looks around worriedly. "It's just that I need to know what happens when there's no one around," she seems confused at first but then her eyes turn a little more soft and you read sadness in them. Suddenly you feel disappointed about Negan as if you expected something better. "I mean, how is he with you when there's no one around or when there's just the wives with him?" you clarify, in case she's taken the question as you lusting over her husband.

"He doesn't hit us if that's what you're asking," she says, leaning on the wall behind her but looking at the ceiling. "But he has terrible ways to make you do what he wants," you look at her horrified and your stomach curls. "Well, I don't mean in a sexual way... He's against rape as you might know already and he gives us protection. He's a gentleman in that way but we're with him because that's all we could do or we had no other option." She explains to you her story, when her sister Tina, said she would think about Negan's marriage proposal. Her and her husband, Dwight, tried to escape, but Tina had died and they had no choice but to return, she had to marry Negan to save Dwight's life.

"So you two... Shit... That sucks..." you mutter. She just gives you a nod and you don't want to bring her down with memories.

"One way or another, he always gets what he wants. If you give it to him it'll make your life easier, believe me." She then explains to you about the other wives.

You are furious and want to face him, even though you know it wouldn't be a smart move. 'How can he be such a bastard to make people abdicate their will like that. He's a fucking dictator. I already knew that but he's definitely not a clean-handed one...' He has a full army with him so it wouldn't be very smart to threaten him physically to leave you alone. You are not getting out of this place, now you know for sure. It would be smart to do your best with the situation.

"Ok, thank you for your time." you say, softly.

"I'm sorry if I broke your fairy tale," she says genuinely, making you think that she thought you might be falling in love with Negan. 'If they think that, maybe Negan does too,' you think. 'That could be an advantage.' You don't say anything to her to make her think otherwise, instead you part, walking back to the corridor. Before the door to the backstairs closes behind, you hear the sound of a lighter.

You take your time, caressing the walls with the tip of your fingers. When you enter your room it catches you off guard that Negan's there, sitting on your bed with his left ankle on top of his right thigh and dropping the weight of his torso on his arms, tilted backwards. Lucille's resting on his lap.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him, in an annoyed tone sounding a little bit more pert than you meant to. "It's wrong to invade other people's privacy, you know?"

"The last time I checked, this was my fucking building and the questions were asked by me. Have we changed the roles? Because fuck, I had no fucking clue." he says narrowing his eyes as a way to intimidate you but when he sees that you don't change your expression, he looks at you like: 'What's wrong with you?'. Maybe he's being genuinely himself but he definitely hits a nerve. 'I can't just act like I'm dumb and let him get away with everything.'

"I'll just tell you this once: I'm not below you, more than an employee for its boss. And with this, I mean that I respect you and you respect me. Understood?" you say without any kind of fear, before he opens his mouth.

"What a nerve! How dare you," he replies, with a rough chuckle. It seems to you as if you have pointed out something obvious to him. You expected another kind of reaction but for some reason, he hasn't considered your claim a problem. Maybe it's because you are alone. You get that's your only advantage over all these people. "As I tried to make you understand, I have my tactics to make people do what I want but my only intention with that is to create a chain and order. Not to abuse my position of power."

'Liar.'

"When people follow the rules everything is fine, they produce and receive points for it but I don't intend to dominate what they do with the rest of their free time in certain terms. The same goes for you. There's also the fact, that I have a fucking soft spottingle for you, I think I've been pretty clear on that. But you are not bound to anything, sweetheart. Everyone has a choice, even if they take dumb ones."

'Do we? Do you even know how untrue that is?' That's just a bunch of lies but he really seems to believe his words so much, if you didn't know any better, you would believe him. It pisses you off.

"Till when?" you ask, frowning. You are so furious that you let your tongue loose. If he wants you around, he's gonna get what that means. "Until you get fed up and decide that there is something you can hurt me with to convince me?"

Sherry told you that's how he got three of the wives and you're definitely not accepting that. "I don't have a family, so you have nothing to grab me by the balls with. For now. Should I keep an eye on not making friends, so I don't make them a target of your anger when I don't do what you want?"

"Watch that tone," he warns, suddenly serious and sitting rigid on the bed, staring at you with a 'Be careful.' written in his eyes.

"What if I don't Negan, you gonna kill me?" you say expressionless, letting your hunger for balance and justice get the best of you. "Come on, do it, who the hell cares? Show me what you got."

He looks at you, furious, and stands closing the distance between you but you notice he leaves Lucille on the bed. He approaches you quickly and without warning, as he raises you by the thighs, kissing you. His lips own yours hungrily and makes way for his tongue to invade your mouth while backing you against the wall. His taste raises your skin in goosebumps and suddenly you forget that you're angry. His mouth descends to your neck and you lose the north. You feel that pressure coming down your stomach to the innermost part of your being but it is his hands moving towards your rear that shoot something inside your head and there's no turning back.

You slide your right hand behind his neck from inside his jacket, while your left-hand goes down between the two of you searching for the end of his white shirt. You slip your hand underneath and find yourself in direct contact with his skin. His toned torso tightens and relaxes with the movements of his breathing, his heated skin feels so smooth under your fingers.

You feel him hardening like a rock right against your centre, making you lose the relaxed rhythm of your breathing when he breaks the last of the distance between your bodies. You gently bite his lower lip, pulling it towards your mouth and intensifying the kiss. You feel like a drug addict about to receive a dose of your favourite high, except that this time it's superior quality.

You drag your nails gently over his abdomen, wishing to leave a mark on his skin as your hand travels lower to the button of his pants, while your lips stay moulded to his. You begin to introduce the tips of your fingers into the waistband of his underpants.

"You see I wasn't kidding, huh?" he says confidently, half-laughing in your mouth but making space between you so you can manoeuvre.

"Shut up..." you reply, stopping your hand from going further. You move your hands against his jaw as your lips explore his, parted, tongue sneaking inside his mouth to caress his with the tip, an invitation to dance. His tongue responds, twirling around yours, dominating the movements. He can't avoid grunting, as your hips push against him in pleasure.

He whisks you over to the bed, discarding Lucille out of the way but leaving her carefully standing against the bedside table. Then he liyes you down, like a fragile piece of crystal, appreciating the lines that form your body, focusing on the ones in his direct line of sight, the way your top hugs the sensual curve of your breasts. As his eyes grow with lust, his head is working on what he wants to do to you while he takes off his jacket and places it on the armchair in front of the TV unit.

As he walks back to you he stops for a second staring at the image of you leaning on your elbows watching his every move, studying the frame of his body, the straight, secure, yet relaxed, posture of his back. The way his white t-shirt hugs the width of his shoulders and gets a little bit loose at the end, insinuating an easily accommodating hips size, as tall and broad as he is. When your eyes set on his bulge his smile widens proudly, but your eyes soon move to his feet as he kicks his boots off, triggering you to do the same, eyes still fixed on each other.

"Wait." you ask, before getting out of bed, as he curiously watches your every move. You press the button on the door knob locking it with a click and turn on the music player sitting on top of a bookshelf next to it. It's loud enough to cover up the sounds Negan has been inflicting on you but not so loud to bother anyone.

"Come down to the black sea swimming with me ah-ooh uuh." you sing with it before you turn around walking back to him, circling him as you wrap your arms around his back and hug him from behind, kissing his back before gently grabbing his hand to leading him to your bed.

Your synchronized movements escalate from the foot of the bed to the pillows, with you moving backwards as he crawls with you until he's towering over you. He fits himself between your legs, pulling your hips towards him while claiming your neck. You gasp when you feel one of his masculine hands climb up your side to get under your shirt, raising up goosebumps in its wake. At this point, you know this is going to be worth your while.

'Negan's hot like the damn sun.'

Something visceral inside of you takes over your conscience and you practically wrestle him under you, flipping him over using your hips and legs. You yank off his white tee, frustrated by it obstructing your vision and toss it aside. Finally able to see the full glory of his chest and abdomen, covered in a decent amount of unruly dark hair until it trails down, hiding underneath his pants. The perfect amount on the perfect body.

'Shaved six-pack youngsters are overrated.' your mind defines.

Your red top slides up, slowly, as your hips roll over his hardness to the rhythm of the music. Making it all feel more like a strip tease. A little groan escapes his throat.

Your mouth attacks his neck, nipping and sucking hoping to leave purple love bites but you don't remain there before moving down his chest and stomach trailing soft and poisonous kisses full of desire. That is until your chin meets the edge of his trousers, you lift up to observe him; arms crossed behind his head letting you do as you please while enjoying the view.

Your fingers trace the form of his member, caged inside those tight black pants and his breath halts. Your hips settle over his just to see him react, as you move them teasingly whilst slowly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. His hands grip your waist tightly before you stop moving them, then one hand moves to undo you too as the other keeps you firmly in place.

"In case you change your mind and go running, this is the moment to stop it. Please, don't play with me," he says and you feel a sense of wariness and frustration in his tone, disguised in sarcasm. He wants you so bad he's letting his guard down just long enough for you to hear that out.

'I'm far away from running, big bad wolf...'

Then he raises his torso and your noses rub against each other. "Oh! Turns out you can ask for things nicely..." you fake surprise. "Will it turn out that you are indeed a charmer, after all..." you say, your nose nudging his again before your lips meet his. Tenderly you bite on the lower with a slight smile, making him grunt a little.

'Fuck. Shit!'. You squeeze your eyes shut. 'This bastard is gonna make you fall for him!'

"Everything ok, babe?" he asks, worrying creasing his forehead.

Just nodding before going straight back to kissing him again, you hope that whatever is starting to grow inside of you for him will die as soon as you see his bad side for yourself. Deciding it's too late to worry, knowing that the fear transpiring all over Sanctuary isn't due to a one time incident but too many.

Getting to your feet at the edge of the bed and pulling his trousers off his long legs. 'Hell if I don't love his body and his height already...' your inner demon sounds, much to your dismay. As you toss them aside too in a mess on the floor, Negan's already sitting up at the edge of the bed, kissing your belly as he slides the fake leather covering your legs down to your ankles. He bites your hip bone making you shiver as you resume your seat on his lap, feeling his warm and full form now that there are not many clothes left between you.

"Do you have condoms?" you ask him, knowing this is the right moment to ask before you get too into it. Knowing if the answer is no you're just not going to do it.

'I should have asked beforehand...'

"Of course, darling." He reaches down to his pants and takes out a couple of condoms from the pocket.

'Great! He actually came here with the intention to get in your pants.' Somehow, valuing the situation, the idea makes you frown. 'Well, who's to blame you for giving into your urges at the end of the world. You could die tomorrow. Although with Negan around it doesn't seem likely.'

"Well, honey, as you may know I'm married to a lot of women." he responds to the expression on your face. "Not all married man take fucking care of this stuff as they should. But if you're gonna cheat, do it safely at least, don't bring a fucking disease to your partner or get your lover pregnant. You don't need to be too smart for the 'better be safe than sorry' shit." you understand his point and find it something to agree with. You rub him with your lower body parts to get him back in the game, although his erection hasn't ceased.

'Hell does he ever relax?'. You notice his body is slightly tense too, you put pressure on his shoulders as you keep grinding.

It has its effect, and you are soon under him as he takes your panties off. 'I guess we are done talking.' you think, right before he lures a moan out of you by attacking your neck, going down your body mercilessly. His teeth meet parts of your body that make your lower body tense, as if he knew where to bite and kiss. He's exploring every inch, getting to discover those little secrets that will make you ready for him.

Your arousal is quick, after who knows how much time since you've been touched like this but at this point you are raging and needy. He must have read it on your face because he rids himself of his boxers as he meets your eyes, pulling the condom open and down his length in no time.

'He knows what he's doing, damn if he ain't hot as hell!"

His tip meets your entrance without wavering from your gaze, attentive to any sign of discomfort,as he slides inside slowly. You notice you didn't quite size him up correctly before unless it's the sheer lack of sex thwhat has made you unprepared. The pressure of your walls trapping him inch by inch of his advance. Both of you seem to have forgotten how to breathe when his length is fully inside of you but he doesn't move, to your surprise. He seems perplexed somehow, with something clearly on his mind.

"Did I leave you drained of energy already?" you say in a mocking-like tone. "You should do more cardio Negan or you will die here-"

He cuts off your prattle with a quick push in before pulling out just as fast, with a smirk of victory. His face relaxes as he moves slowly, studying yours.

'He's trying to see if he's hitting the spot.' your mind babbles.He moves his hips with experience, aiming at the right angle, while grabbing your left thigh to hold you in place, making you feel like you are in heaven. His mouth meets your neck when you let your head fall backwards as your back arches. "Negan..." you whisper.

"M'Right here, babe..." he whispers against your neck. Your only answer are quiet moans. You can feel goosebumps under your fingertips along his back. His mouth meets yours between airy breaths as his pace accelerates, feeling his thickness hit just the right way.

"Oh my God..." your breath hitches as his precise movements build up pressure in your stomach, your impending orgasm looming.

"I know, darlin'..." he mutters in your ear as his pace increases, speeding up your climax and putting you over your limit, until you explode a shaking, quivering mess underneath him. Faster than you ever have and more desperate, as your nails trail sharp lines down his back making him growl deep.

Taglist @stxrg4zer

I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know your thoughts and reblog to let it spread 😊 See you soon! ~

Pissin' Our Pants Yet?- Chapter 3: The road

💕Pairing: Negan x Female Reader 

✏️Genre/au: Canon, Action, Smut, Sci-fi, The Walking Dead Fic

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

📝Wordcount:

⚠️chapter warnings: Shitloads of cursing, Gore details (zombies), Mentions of cults, mentions of cult practices, dictatorship status

<<< 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2 | 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 4 >>>

Hii! Did you stumble across this work? Glad you're here 😊 Please, let me know your thoughts once you are finished. Feedback keeps me motivated to write 😁

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

My gratitude goes to @alldevilsarehere90 for her hard work on beta reading this huge chapters🧡

Scavenging with any group that leaves Sanctuary, occupies most of your days. What's outside is your world, where you know how to move, how to play. It's almost like you are trying to avoid reality, the view of what's going on in the lower floors of the building. Turning a blind eye to the Saviours' abuse towards people is the only way you could do so. Not being there. Still, it’s like it haunts you, seeing from the corner of an eye, how it gets perpetrated.

Negan has to agree with it when it's so common. There's no way he doesn't see or know, the Saviours' use of physical punishment to afront any sort of confrontation and the constant abuse of power when it comes to belongings. Your thoughts and actions twist to centre on winning him; the big bad wolf's trust. Without that, there's nothing you can do for these people or his wives. 

Most of your productive working time is around him as if he wants to be glued to you. He will ask your opinion on random things, sometimes important decisions that require some knowledge. It reminds you of when you were your mum's right hand and she would let you make decisions to evaluate your qualities as a possible successor. In his own words: he values your opinion as much as Simon's or any of the other high ranks, admitting it comes from your stay outside by yourself. He says it blows his mind that you've managed to survive on your own, remarking it has nothing to do with you being a woman.

It surprises him so much he asks more than once if it was, in fact,  six months because that's a lot of time to be on your own. The first time, you talked about the scars on your body, where they came from, and who or what caused them. Although you told him there were a few you couldn’t recall. You knew there was one he hadn't seen and that's the only one you avoid talking about.

The second time, it was more like asking for a reminder and when he asked about your group, you just didn't feel good talking about it. Surprisingly, he didn't push it further.

In the beginning, you thought his appreciation excluding your pretty face was touching, since he had been flirting with you from the moment he set eyes on you. At some point, you even expected him to be trying to push you into marrying him like he's done with his golden-caged birds. But on second thought, you figured out he's interested in understanding how your mind functions, for easier control since you have nothing to lose. It wasn’t a surprise but the idea still bothers you.

Inside the Sanctuary you feel the breath in the air coming from that many people living together. Different mindsets cluttered in the same space like a bee's nest, just less alike because the ones protecting the working bees are also their bullies. 

Being with people after such a long time alone doesn't seem to be your forté but being alone again is too fucked up to consider it an option. The world has become a deadly dangerous place with all those non-dead walking around and trying to take a chunk out of you. Although the survivors can be even worse. 

Here the rules matter, which seems to be engraved with fire in these people's minds. Negan keeps people alive in a system that's tough but works. Kind of. It reminds you of those documentaries you used to watch on TV about modern slavery in various countries, that made it sound too far to even suggest it could happen in yours. But here you are, observant of those images in the very place you live, just a few feet from you. 

Leaving that aside, you can admit freely that it has been partly luck that's kept you alive. Like it is with anyone else because anything can kill you these days. That, along with your ability to avoid people, if you're honest, is probably a big part of the equation. 

You'd say your aiming is your best quality and it's probably the best skill one needs to protect itself and hunt with or without guns. You are also very fast but when it comes to the rest of your skills, you'd say you are just about average. Incomparable to your mum who was awesome in everything she did. 

You tried to learn everything you could from her but she was exceptional. Losing her and your brother at the same time, destabilized your whole world and vision of it. That was partially why you left your group and wandered around aimlessly. You couldn't see things so clearly anymore, the mourning blinding your best judgement and decision-making. The memories of the days after their death are still confusing to this day.  

When you found yourself lonely and realized that was going to be the rest of your life, some sort of mad need for socialization took over you but boy, the things you saw on the road. Soon you understood it wasn't safe anymore to "apply" for another group's membership. But then you had to make peace somehow with your new reality. Going back to your group just wasn't an option because you didn't find them where they were supposed to be. They had probably waited long enough and thought you weren't going to come back or that you were the one dead already. 

That was until the mall happened. 

It did not seem a bad option after taking your security measures. You even unblocked the back doors as a safe passage if another group crossed you. But you trusted too much in your luck going to the first floor. In big places, the rules were to enter, pick up the goods as fast as you could and leave. At least, while being alone. 

Now, even with a short group of four, you feel kind of safe. Well, it's almost completely safe. Becoming a Saviour does affect one's ego, how could it not, when it makes people feel like they are on top of the world. Invincible. As if the walkers were just a minor problem, a day after day thing but even with that sensation building up in one's chest, nobody puts their guard down. That would be really stupid.

"Do Saviours get bit often?" You ask John, one of the guys in your group. Even if his name is also your brother's, they are nothing alike.

"Nah... It doesn't happen a lot. You worried?" he asks you, without stopping what he is doing. You mutter a simple, "Not really," and he smirks.

Your group is out of the safe zone, looking for supplies or anything interesting that could be of use. Maybe a well-positioned building for another outpost or another group to discipline for Negan. He did not want you on the search parties for the "problematic community" that had been running for the last week and a half. "New arrivals don't get those privileges, pretty face," he said to you in front of your group of newcomers, when you asked. 

You think that at least you are not the only fresh blood in the nest. Having all eyes set on you, people expecting things, good or bad, maybe both, sucks. 

In fact, even if the other Saviours found them and there was a plan going on, your group was not on the first line or in it at all that matters. You were told that almost every Saviour was going to be at the "final show" but Negan still didn't trust you enough to put you in certain positions outside. 

'Dude, get over it, get that stick out your ass. The flamethrower thing was a mistake!' you thought when Negan said: "You will stick to the basics until I know for sure you won't do the shot to send people running for the hills".

It all becomes routine, or sort of, as new days go by. You wake up before the clock in the mornings and take a shower in the commons, chit-chatting with Arat and Norma as you brush your teeth. There are other women around but these two are kind of the ones with whom you get along better. 

One morning, Arat praised your work and said you'll go up quickly if you keep working hard and giving useful input. One of the girls in the showers jokes about it being easier when you bend on your knees privately for Negan, a few laughs follow the statement, to which you spit out the toothpaste and calmly leave your toothbrush on the counter. Walking towards the shower, you hear Arat mutter an "oh-uh" although she doesn't stop you. Opening the curtain of who you know has said it, you grab her by the hair and bang her head against the wall, breaking her nose, then watching as she slides down the wall, moaning in pain. 

"For people like you, men treat women like shit," you say before spitting on her, then Arat makes her presence known beside you by putting a hand on your shoulder to turn you around. 

"She's learned her lesson," she mutters. "You won't say a word about this. Keep your mouth shut next time you feel like offending another woman for being better than you," she tells the one bleeding.

"I wasn't going to hit her again." You don't even feel right about it. You've just lost your temper too easily for your liking. Leaving aside the fact her type of attitude is the kind you despise. 'Sometimes people need to learn the hard way' you tell yourself unconvincingly. 

The incident did not leave that bathroom, although there were a lot of witnesses.

At lunchtime, you sit with Arat to eat some sort of spaghetti bolognese with meatballs in her apartment with Norma and Donna, another Saviour who is seemingly in some kind of relationship with Arat, when a knock on the door calls your attention. A low-ranking Saviour, just like you, opens it when given permission and informs them they have the Alexandrians under their radar. Negan is claiming Arat for planning and the three of you are left to eat alone. 

That same afternoon, while you are looking at the maps in your room memorizing the future attack, Negan's plan over the Alexandrians starts to roll because a bunch of them are leaving the community in an RV. It's an ambush, prepared like any other but it has coincided with someone running off from Sanctuary and a search party already there. The outposts near were fast to move and play their part, following the previous preparations. 

The plan is divided into phases. First step: you all had to wait until one of the lookouts that are surrounding Alexandria gave the intel on a number leaving the fortress. Second step: block the roads and get them to surrender. This part is already done.

There are two options after that: One; they will come out, in which case someone will have to bring their leader or you will go find him or her and put them all in their place. Someone has to die, "unavoidably" according to Negan, to prove the point that no one messes with him and his Saviours. He also added that he's being magnanimous as people didn't really know who they were messing with, so he isn't going to just take an eye for an eye. But once the rules are settled, there will be no place for mistakes. 

At this point, you are sure that isn't a subject of discussion and nobody has played the devil's advocate. You won't because you can easily understand why he's going to do that. Protecting his people first, saving people later, as it has to be. 

And option Two; they won't surrender, which would lead them to the same end but with Negan going harder on them. 

The plan is set and turns out you are indeed a part of it. Not all the Saviours are going to have the "privilege", as he pointed out, but you are, even though he originally said you wouldn't. And you are one hundred per cent sure it's to prove to you that no one can go against Negan's will. You hear a knock on your door and he enters after your "Come in".

"So, you've really been diving into your work here, huh?" he says, closing the door with a grin. "I have no problem with that, but I gotta say… Not being able to find you after your shifts…After what happened between us...Man, I would say, you are avoiding me. Not cool." he says practically into your ear, with his breath raising goosebumps on your neck.

"Guilty as charged," you admit. You have been, indeed, trying to avoid being left alone with him. You thank all the gods of the world for his discretion on the subject as you would probably slap him.

He had shown you the skilled lover he was, over and over, until you were spent under him, with both your bodies covered in sweat. Needless to say, you were impressed. 

As pleasure subsided, you were able to find your brain again and once he groaned on top of you and let his body fall to the side, something else surprised you. When he lay next to you in the tiny bed and pulled you to him, cuddling you against his chest. 

You fell asleep for a few minutes while twirling softly on the hairs of his chest, as he drew circles on the leg resting across his hips. When you woke up he was still there, his caress, tickling you awake. After kissing you softly, almost sweetly, he finally stood to get dressed and left with a courtesy, stating that management wasn't going to sort itself out.

After he left, you stood regardless of your naked form, to open the windows and refresh the air in the room, it came in fast and cold and although you welcomed it, you felt the iciness in your soul too. 

Did you let your attraction for him cross lines for what Sherry said, maybe out of fear? You weren't sure how you felt about him. Somewhere between attracted and concerned, and that wasn't exactly a good thing. The way he treated people was absolutely not your cup of tea. He is the kind of guy you would usually hate to be around.

Were you just having fun? Or were you expecting something to come out of it? This was something that was leading you to a dead end and you felt the need to run away like you always did when it came to men, sex, love and its relatives. Giving him what he wanted could keep away the idea of making you a caged bird from entering his head but it would take off the importance of whatever you did in the Saviours. Everybody would just see that you were giving it a try with the big bad wolf. 

It's all put in a delicate balance and you know it will fall apart. 

"This is not a good idea, Negan." you voice out.

"What in the holy hell are you talking about?" you've almost forgotten that you are facing the maps displayed on the wall.

"Everything," he raises a brow not believing what he is hearing. "This plan. You and me. Everything is fucked up, Negan. I'm not gonna be your lover and that's what I would be as I'm clearly not your wife." you say in a soft tone, just talking calmly. He opens his mouth but you cut him off before he says a word. "I have no interest in becoming one. I'm a woman of action. I have a clue why everybody follows your ass but I'm not falling in line in all ways. No. My life stays mine and I'm not even sorry for that." you had the intention to say it all calmly but at the end, you hear the heated tone in your words. It seems to happen too often lately, you are tense and restless. As if you were the one doing something wrong. "I do my fucking job, follow the rules and I'm a fucking damn loyal bastard to you because that's how I am. But I'm not going to let your--our." you can't put all the blame on him, "attraction, reduce my qualities as your new bed-warmer. I'm a fucking valid person for a bunch of reasons. I hope you can understand that." you say as you turn around slowly, having felt him cut the distance and his warmth behind you, expecting that sour feared face you've seen more than a couple of times, since being at the sanctuary. Surprisingly, there's a toothy grin with a furrowed brow, something you read as amusement.

"Wow. Yeah, I do! Don't cha worry darlin' we can keep this fuckin' hot thing going on between us as our little secret. That's no fuckin' problem for me." he speaks in a low whispery tone above your nose, meeting your eyes. "But no, you, like everybody else here, are mine," he says, brushing off the importance of the subject and yet putting emphasis on the possessive statement. You can't believe he said it just like that as if people were play-things and nothing more but decide that you will touch that subject at another point. "But what the fuck do you mean that you don't agree with the plan…" he says, having a mood swing like he usually does. That is a good quality for making people fear your reaction but you are way too built up to shut your mouth. Maybe because of his reference to you being his. 

"I think the way you're doing some things will backfire at us, the Saviours, right in the ass, Negan."  his demeanour turns dominant and stern, stormy eyes subject to objectification. "When you push people too hard, especially the ones that do what they've done to our people, they tend to unite and fight back till their last breath. You act as if people are belongings that don't know right from wrong-"

"I beg your pardon," he interrupts. At this precise moment, you know, you've fucked up. "Are you actually questioning me?" he gives you the look, the one that makes the toughest man look at their feet. You included. "Who are you?"

"Negan," you say, raising your head to meet his eyes again, obedient like a puppy. Experience has shown you that keeping your mouth shut, especially when you have not, is the best way to survive. You will do whatever you want because your life is yours, no matter what he says, you won't let others decide for you but sometimes, the best way to get away with what you want, or just simply get away from a difficult situation, is to make others believe that you agree with what they want. When people think that you're submissive they don't expect you to take opposite decisions from what they would want you to do.

"Then you will want what's best for you. Isn’t that right?" he says, still serious and raw. There is no possible objection to that statement. 

 "Yes, Negan," you give him the puppy eyes, so he smiles at you.

"I think we should take a ride. Just for the pleasure of it," You get scared for a second, he starts to take leave without waiting for your answer but stops. "That was a suggestion, by the way. Unless you're scared of being alone with me, darlin'." 

"Is this a date?" you ask him with an edge of sarcasm inside your words, relaxing as he does seem to have genuine intentions.

"Yeah." he gives you in a low breathy tone, like a whisper, while wrinkling his nose and showing his teeth, then bites his lower lip seductively. You chuckle.

"I think I might pass," you reply, putting on a poker face and he raises his eyebrows surprised. "Just kidding, let's get out of here, salt and pepper," he chuckles at the pet name. "I drive…" you say while you take the leave in front of him.

"No way I'm letting you drive my car!" he chuckles but you stop to look at him, brows arched.

"I swear to God, Negan, if you pull up that shit that a girl can't drive-" you are not even joking, it pisses you off. Men and women can work out the same things, it all depends on each individual's qualities, not the gender.

"Hey! Calm your tits down. Nobody swings Lucille, nobody drives my car, it’s as simple as that. Now, if you want to drive, you will have to find yourself a machine that works. My car, it's just mine," he says arching a brow in a way to say 'I don't want to have to repeat myself'.

"Got it," you say and start your walk to get to the garage. You jumping inside Negan's car raises some eyebrows but suddenly you don't care. 

You haven't noticed how much time you've spent in your room looking at those maps until a Saviour opens the garage door to let Negan's car out of the building, the sun already heading west, its light less intense, the temperature less hot. Perfect timing.

Out of the safe area, as it's circled on the maps, your head rests over your arm on the window breathing the fresh air as you close your eyes. The trip was definitely needed, for a second it's like this isn't the end of the world at all. Just two people on a date. Like when your worst problems, from a first world person where to pay your bills and maybe what to do on Saturday night. Now, all that seems so stupid, such nonsense. 

The car runs as smooth as new and you guess there's a mechanic at home. 'So cool. I should probably investigate the building more, I've been too busy working and hiding to know all that's offered.'

"So. Where do you want us to go, sweetheart?" you hear in the background, too taken by the moment. "Earth to Alice. Where are you, dollface?" he asks, almost with a genuine look.

"I'm right here, babe," you say, doing an impression of him.

"Are you trying to be cool?" he asks with a chuckle.

"I am already, pops" You turn on the music on his player. "I think that we should ride to a place that we don't know, to a place where no one has seen us before" sounds filling the vehicle, surprisingly, being that this is his car. "I'm thinking you and I better just go with the flow. The last thing that we should do is go slow..." you sing along, forgetting for a second he's asked you a question. He looks at you, raising an eyebrow, and then, looking at the front he accelerates. "A really adequate song, right? I didn't expect you to hear this kind of music."

"Arat said you might like it," he says with a smirk. 

"Wait. This was planned," you say matter-of-fact, changing your position on the seat to look at him directly. He smiles, looking at you. 'Of course, it is, he could not just leave like that for the sake of it. He's the leader, for Christ's sake.' you conclude. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." That's the last thing he says on the road.

He stops the car in the middle of a set of crops that has gone wild, the golden plants tickling in your fingers as you walk around enjoying the view. There is a forest a few yards away at the left, close enough for you to see a squirrel jumping up a tree. 'That would have been dinner… this is her lucky day.' 

"What is this place, planning on building a farm for retirement?" you ask, struggling to understand why he chose this place to travel to. It's beautiful, you have to admit it, the view extends for miles, so much that you can't see the details at the end of it.

"Don't be impatient. You'll see it pretty soon." He leans on the car and takes a packet of cigarettes from the side pocket of his leather jacket. He takes one and turns it. "A smoke?" he leaves the filter of a cigarette showing for you to take it, as an offer.

"No, thanks. Never did, I have no intention to start now that I need my lungs to run," The smile coming to that statement confirms he already knew it. You lean on the car close to him, you know he does not smoke that often for the smell of his skin and his breath. "What are we looking at?"

"Damn, woman! Patience…" he says, his pretty smile holding the cigarette with the side of his lips. You fake a pucker followed by a naughty smile that makes him snort and roll his eyes in amusement.

Closing your eyes when the soft breeze warmed up by a sunny day hits your face. You keep them closed enjoying the moment trying to engrave this memory in your mind to hold onto when things go wrong. For the future, if there is any. The warmth against your face, the smell of the trees, the plants that are tickling your legs over the trousers... and Negan, like a second sun to this earth, giving life, taking it, volcanic, warm, symbolic… 

In other circumstances you two would probably never have crossed. He was from somewhere else, he sure had a wife or at least a girlfriend, there is no way he was alone. None of his actual wives were with him before Sanctuary so maybe he lost her on his way through surviving. The world had always been like this: one day you had someone but you could lose it the next; an accident, a murder, a disease… people were always fragile, even if they felt invincible. What went down, only accentuated that fact. It showed the truth within, what was held in the shadows, the taboos. At least in most people. In others, it surfaced the feel of the community, the need to survive together, and the strength of grouping up. 

You think you are somewhere in the middle, far from perfection. You are inclined to protect the weak. Good, noble while others are good to you.  Savage, wild, fearless… cruel if there's someone evil, despicable. Negan stirs your darkness with some acts as much as he stirs the light inside you. It's a balance that can easily be consumed by the darkness. Everything points to it. Your mentality with the time has grown patient and yet, you live in the moment. 

This is a beautiful moment to live in, so you live it. 

You hear the sound of his breath exhaling the smoke of his slowly consumed cigarette, enjoying it. With that mundane action and your previous knowledge of him, you notice that, despite his attitude of walking on air, he still makes the most of everything he does. You've seen him do that with the wrong stuff that has you on edge but you realize, it's not that he's a bad person, it's just him doing what you are; living the moment and owning his shit with no regrets. 'Maybe we are not so different after all.'

A new breeze brings his scent to you, now mixed with the nicotine but still his. You memorize it; the touch of his body on your side is warm and makes you feel less lonely, even if it’s unreal. 'We are born alone and we die alone,' has been your mantra. You notice that you have been starting to feel the excitement you normally do when you're around someone you have a crush on. Knowing if you let it continue like that, even if it’s just for a second, it will surely become a car crash for you. As much as he is the sun and you can need him, you might get burned if you have too much. 

You were never emotionally attached to the boys you slept with or if you ever did you killed it as soon as it appeared, leaving some heartaches in your past, or maybe not, you always ignored it. What you don't know won't hurt you. 'This can't be different' you tell yourself.

You open your eyes when he clears his throat, without knowing how much time you have had them closed. His gaze is on you but your eyes are focused solely on the horizon where the sunset, one of the most beautiful ones you've ever seen, starts to turn the sky into a spectacle of colors. As if the sun itself has set the clouds on fire above you. You feel as if the tears confined inside you are going to spill rivers on your cheeks, moved by the most beautiful thing you have seen in a long, long time. 

Watching the sunset was a thing you used to do with someone very special -before ice covered your heart-, it was in those moments that you stayed silent and the world seemed to be only for the two of you. The rest of the world disappears, making all the noises muffled as if you were deaf and the only thing that mattered was the sky burning. 

Life has become so painful since then and no one you've ever cared about can enjoy this anymore, they can't see any of this anymore. You feel the knot in your throat and you start to freak out. No crying in front of others. Never.

"You know how to get a lady into your bed…" you say cheekily trying to avoid him thinking you are into sentimental stuff, not that you are these days. He smiles almost sadly, he has his eyes lost in the sky, melancholic. 'You two are not that different. He's lost someone too. Who is he thinking about?' 

"What can I say? I'm a gentleman," he says, in a flirty tone, taking another whiff of smoke to his lungs. That’s when you notice he's taken the chance to put his arm around your waist, while you are lost in the view and he uses it to get you near him. The hand starts moving lower and with it, a naughty smile appears on his face.

"That hand has dishonest intentions, gentleman," you say rolling your eyes and in a quick move he puts you up on the bonnet of the car. You give him room to slide his body between your thighs. "Oh! Your body acts like a hooker." He laughs at that. He's so warm, so sexy. You escape the kiss he wants to give you, to go to his neck, smelling him while you give him soft bites on his hot skin. It drives you crazy. You let your back fall against the metal and you cover your eyes with the back of your hand.

"Jesus, if you ain't a vision.." he mutters in a little husky tone. You exhale, hearing a chuckle and one of his thumbs caressing your lower lip. Your arms slide above your head as he leans forward on top of you with eyes that show the desire burning inside of him just like the sunset that you have just seen. You want him to show you. Closing your ankles behind him and your arms on his neck, you pull him against your body. When his mouth finds yours,  his lips capturing yours, it's as if time stops. The way his lips press and move against yours, his tongue moving slowly just at the entrance of your mouth, makes you light-headed. Your body itches for more, absorbed by the feeling of him. His lips move down to your chin, then neck, an expert hand pulling your hips against his with a single move. Pressing his erection against your core, your breath catches, and your lungs almost fail to work.

In a fast move, he unties your belt and takes off your trousers, faster than you've ever seen a man capable of. 'He must have had a lot of practice,’ you guess. He puts a hand on your waist pulling you towards him again as his parted lips meet yours. Then with just one hand he unties his belt and zips down his trousers. The hand over your waist trails down to your pelvis sneaking inside your panties, fingers testing the waters to make sure you are ready for what comes next. You are. 

He pulls his trousers down slightly to make room for his member to make an appearance and simply slides your panties to the side. A word crosses your head 'Condom' and as if he can read your mind, he takes something from his wallet, and puts it within his lips, his teeth helping to break the package. With a fast movement of both hands, he has it on.

"So you were ready, huh?" you suggest, under his complete control. He's making you dance his waltz. 'But damn if it ain't the hottest one.' At this very moment, it doesn't matter who holds the power. He nods with raised brows and a smirk.

He smiles as his tip finds your slit, moving slowly up and down to coat up your entrance for him. His slide-in fills you comfortably in three swift motions, the craving for him growing as he stills inside you, observing your expression. He clearly finds something he likes, because he starts to move increasingly at each moan his hard rock elicits from you and you love the little growls and grunts that your constricting walls rip out of him. 

You raise your upper body to let your lips meet, your initial tenderness is soon followed by a soft bite and pull of his lower lip, increasing the sounds of flesh meeting flesh as that little touch of sin motivates him. Your lips run over his neck and a bite finds his jaw, making him grunt as both his hands press his hips against yours. Your walls tense as you edge closer to your orgasm. Suddenly the static of the radio on the dashboard distracts you from reaching the sky, although Negan does not cease until he hears the words. 

"Negan, we have them." Negan's face turns towards the car, his passionate expression now gone and something different in his eyes, something dark, something that sends shivers through your spine as he pulls away. The shadow of a premonition that something bad is about to happen. 

A quiet moment extends as Negan climbs off of you, his brown orbs lighting a little when his eyes meet yours again, making you relax slightly. He tidies himself before zipping up his pants to go and pick up the radio. The mood he displays as he answers contrasts completely with what you've seen and felt exuding from him only seconds before. With the radio in his right hand, the other one finds your waist and he kisses your forehead. 

"I'm sorry, babe," Negan says in a low apologetic tone. "We will pick this up where we leave it after this shit's sorted." Right after his words, he kisses your neck, giving closure to the moment with a deep kiss, pressing his body against yours. His own needs unsatisfied, he sighs after the kiss in annoyance. You just nod and give him an understanding smile. 'He is a charming bastard. He had you under him the day after picking you up. God damn you if you fall in love with him… This is just fun for him. He already has the rest: housewife, paramour. Six times.'

Telling yourself you'll manage the feelings as you've always done, you decide he is convenient for survival, sex is just that; sex. He's the hottest man you've seen in years, counting before all of this, the chemistry unavoidably obvious and you need to feel it, you need to live it. As well as being a dangerous man to go playing around with feelings that can tear your life apart if something goes wrong. 'Mistakes with men like him are paid with blood and tears.'

Negan speeds up on the empty road, you feel the smooth roar of the car as it settles at seventy miles per hour. There is no other authority than him now, so, who will tell him not to? You would, if you didn't find it amusing.

As much as you don't agree with the kidnapping, killing, humiliating and basically robbing of other communities' supplies, you understand the plan that will go on tonight. Besides your late protest about how Negan pushes people to their limits, you get why this is happening, and why he says he is being magnanimous with this group. Indeed, if someone killed that many numbers, even just killing one of the people you cared about, you would want hell to fall upon those offenders. 

Looking at the plan from an objective and subjective point of view, it is epic. The number of members participating, cutting roads, redirecting them to the hot spot… it's by far intimidating. Negan has power and many subjects to follow his orders, whatever he wants to do, gets done, and that's quite bone-chilling. His domains extend day by day and those who say one day everything might belong to him are not far from the truth. He is a warlord bending over every community on his path but the little thing that seems to escape his comprehension is the limits between showing power and humiliation. That will backfire on him some day no matter how many people stand at his back. He's not a God, he's just a human, bone and flesh that can bleed and die. 

For some reason, that worries you. It's not just that the myth that holds together the Sanctuary, would die, leaving the civilians to some merciless Saviours, it's unsure if Negan's not there his lieutenants will keep his rules and guidelines. There's something else. You've been around him enough hours a day, received enough praise for your mind or good choices, seen enough sneers and chuckles, enough reward and punishment for the guy to grow on you. Thankfully not romantically but in an appreciative manner. Maybe some weird admiration.

He's built something from scratch, kept people alive, and created a system and rules to keep people safe. Everything that so many other communities have struggled with, even when things were easier, he's kept it tight and together. That, at least earns him some respect from you. The primal instincts he awakes in you are just a that’s a whole new ballgame.

When you arrive, the sun has fully disappeared leaving its place to the stars and the moon. His men are following the plan down to the last inch, you can only see the cars parked and the mentioned RV in the middle of the clearing. A mulled-haired guy, beaten up, stays on his knees with a Saviour at his back pointing a rifle at him, to the touch of the artificial light. Simon's been radioing in with every detail he could get his paws on, so you know this one's the driver and the others are moving on foot inside the forest. You are just too many for them to stand a chance and you wouldn't like to be in their place. 

Simon notices you getting out of the car along with Negan, and smiles, although you are sure he did not see Negan kissing your temple before that. You guess he’s just figured it out,  Negan hasn’t gone mouthy on the subject before you talked with him previously. Simon is his right-hand man and you guess he's confident too, to occupy such position. Even with that, it pisses you off that he knows what you've been doing as if it was his business, wanting to erase that mustache-smile off his face. 

Negan, being the leader, walks in front of you, looking at the stuff the Saviours have found on the trailer, displayed on the trunk of a car for Negan to see. As he goes to inspect the goods you stay behind, leaning on the same car as Simon. "I dare you to smile like that again and see what happens…" flows through your lips, giving him a side-eye, without giving a chance for his response you move closer to Negan. The smile on your lips is hidden by the dim illumination from Simon's sudden wide eyes, although at this very second you can feel him burning holes on your back.     

"They are like little mice running directly to the cat's mouth. And. I. Am! The big-sized cat!" says Negan with his characteristic toothy smile, getting your attention and Simons' too. "I almost feel pity for them!" he adds with a burst of laughter that ends in a high-pitched squeak of his breathing, like he always does when he finds something very funny. Simon and the Saviours present, laugh back. You can tell that there is something off in him, you just cannot tell what it is. 'Surely you are not that obedient, right, Simon? Maybe you are hiding something,' you think for yourself. Not even a smile appears on your face, knowing someone is going to die tonight. You might understand why it's going to be done, you might even agree with it, but enjoyment is far from what you feel about it. Negan looks at you with an arched brow, his smile fades just a little before he adds. "Let's get down to business, shall we? Alice, come 'ere." And you obey. "Time to prove yourself," he says, lowering his tone a little. "You wait here and be a good Saviour. Simon! You know what to do," he says, as he gets inside the RV.  

"Right! Let's get this set up," Simon makes you put a van full of bullet holes near the RV, some other cars are parked facing the center, then Negan turns off the lightning and they move the Alexandrian further. Just after, Simon organizes your positions, patting your shoulder to pity you for what you might see. There's an echoed sound of whistles through the forest and you join them as you have been commanded, walking to the back of the semicircle of Saviours, to watch for any walker attracted by the sound. 

There is nowhere to run for the poor souls that are about to be punished. No one can cross the Saviors and get away with it, that, you have clear. There is punishment. There is and will always be punishment. 

Finally, seconds later, the rest of the group arrive at the meeting point carrying a stretcher, just to find themselves surrounded by the Saviors coming from everywhere around the forest and the incessant whistle. Negan's trademark whistle. There is nowhere to hide, their RV parked in front of them, now the lights of the cars turning on, blinding them for a second while the Saviours that followed them make the closing wall of the circle. Looking like deers surrounded by wolves, fear of the unknown is written all over their faces. The general whistles start to fade, yours too. Then a thick silence is made.

"Good. You made it. Welcome to where you were going." says Simon, walking forward. You observe one more time behind you, other Saviours keeping their ears up for walkers or other guests but it has to look like you all are just watching a show. "We will take your weapons," he adds, extending his arms vaguely to the rest of the team, then points a gun to one of them, a kid with a wounded eye. "Now." 

'Very brave, Simon…' you think.

"We can talk about-" speaks up a man with a peppery beard and really strong southern accent, who seems to finally understand the situation they had put themselves into.

"We're done talking. Time to listen," throws Simon in a meaningful tone. Some men approach the group to take the weapons and he walks to the kid. "That's yours, right?" he closes in on the child, adopting a menacing stance. "Yeah, it's yours," adds before clipping on the kid sheriff hat. Regaining his posture he commands. "Okay! Let's get her down and get you all on your knees. Lots to cover."

"Hold up," says a redhead that looks like he could definitely put up some resistance. Big muscles and a fierce look that also exudes from his very being. 'A soldier,' you can guess. You've seen enough of them to be able to tell them apart. "We got it."

"Sure, sure," replies Simon, making a signal for them to proceed. They help a short-haired woman that looks very sick to get to her knees in the center. For the others, it takes a little longer to obey. "Gonna need you on your knees," replies Simon starting to get impatient. "Dwight!"

"Yeah," answers the blonde fellow, dutifully.

"Chop-chop," Simon commands, to the expectant man. 

"Come on. You got people to meet," Dwight moves from behind the crowd and advances to the bullet-holed van. The first person you see shocks you to the bone. 'Daryl!' you freeze. 'He's alive!? What is he doing here!? Oh god, I moved that van!' So many questions are building in your head that you start to spiral. The last time you saw Daryl the world was guided by less hard rules than survival, or at least that was the image portrayed by everything surrounding you. Times when you were way younger and with fewer experiences in life over your shoulders. Those were by far, sweeter times.

You met Daryl when you were twenty and he was twenty-seven, by chance, getting into the worst-looking bar in your area with your "friends". They were in one of those reckless moods and they called you for a girls' night, although they were nearer to Daryls' age than yours. 'Why am I with them again? Oh, yeah! My mum wants me to be nice to them because they are her new friends' daughters.' you told yourself each time. You ended up sticking with them, though you were a lone wolf and by far very different from them. 

"If you want to feel like you are wild, or whatever, we could go for a bungee jump. You are just going to find a bunch of regular people chilling, I'm telling you," you told them that afternoon. You knew that to be a fact but they did not listen. 

When you opened the door because somehow you were the head of the group, although you weren't even allowed inside by age, your eyes found Daryl instantly. You knew right in that second, the guy was just a bit odd in his group. A quiet guy, in a group that looked like the kind of pricks you would like to kick their asses. Troublemakers, busting up fights. The kind with 'I'm a prick because my parents neglected me and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing with my life,’ as a life excuse. 

Merle, Daryl's brother, called you and your friends over to sit with them, as they spotted you at the door and the impulsive girl of the group was walking there before you could stop her. The rest had to run after her, looking at each other with longing of going home.

'There are only two ends to this night,' you thought. You walked behind them with your sassy face and took your seat at Daryl's side. He looked at you sideways, not sure of what to do or not sure what you had in mind with him.

"Come on Daryl! Say something to the girl. You might finally get your ugly ass laid today, boy!" Merle laughed at his brother. Daryl, annoyed, flicked his tongue. He seemed bothered about something. You thought he was cute but did not say anything to him and instead glared at Merle. "Come on darling, you know why four girls have come here alone, dressed like that. And if you don't, well, you are too innocent to be here." 

Your clothes were quite normal, according to the fashion trends, not that you should have apologized if they weren't. Your sweetheart neckline sleeveless skater black dress was over your knees. Your friends wore similar things, showing more or less thigh, but that was not his business anyway.

"Dressed like what? We are not on display for your entertainment. Asshole." your voice slid through in his direction, venom staining your tongue, ready to bite at the wrong move. Your friends looked at you as if you just poked a bear with a stick.

"Be careful how you speak to me, girl. We are having fun! Don't be such a party pooper!" growled Merle, as if his sexist comment was not a serious thing that was meant to offend.

"How I-But you just-" you almost said, taking it way personal.

"Let's go for a drink," interrupted Daryl, with a calm tone, standing up. You didn't know he did it for your sake that night because Merle would, no doubt, have slapped you. You liked the fact he finally said something to you and gladly followed him. "You guys should leave, this is not your place," he said when you took a seat on a stool, looking behind to see his brother getting touchy with one of your "friends", she gave you an ok signal and a wink. You turned around rolling your eyes.

"Well, thanks for the advice but I'm not the one that chose the worst bar in town," he looked at you sideways again, kind of offended. "I meant no offense." He just nodded and handed you the beer that he just purchased. 'Cool! He has no idea I'm not old enough to drink! If I tell him they might kick me out… what would these airhead girls do next…  Damn. Why do I even bother?'

"I-Doesn't matter!" you interrupted yourself and made a toasting gesture with it. You told him your age later that night and although Merle made a joke about that he should keep away from jailbait, Daryl did not seem too bothered to see you again the next weekend, as you met them with the friend that was now hooking up with Merle.

He was difficult at first, whether it was for your age or him being uncomfortable around new people, you weren’t sure. You hung around and tried to be easygoing with him, although you would jump down the other guys' throats if they tried to talk to you. You kind of knew how to earn a biker's respect, it wasn't you trying to be someone you were not, just you being who you didn't trust to be around other men. 

He seemed to be good at reading people because he seemed to do it with ease, almost as well as you, only far more silent. Your persistence paid off and within a few months, his sweet and kind side became more obvious for you. It was easy to understand where that volatile character came from, he was raised by Merle and his parents indeed neglected them, which made him have to work for everything himself. There was never really anyone there for him to trust or rely upon, besides his brother. And Merle wasn't exactly a solid rock.

The more you talked, the more you were able to wheedle from him. The more you were able to see beyond the surly attitude he had towards everyone, it was a defence mechanism but that was it, he didn't do a single thing to go rogue or do bad things per se if he followed his brother it was his brother who did wrong, not him. For some people, it was difficult to separate them from behavior and action, so Daryl was harshly misjudged, which only fed his aversion towards people. But it was truly not that difficult to get along with him if you dismissed disruptive judgments. 

Your mother did not like him at first and asked you to stay away from him, that pissed him off when he found out about it. He asked you to leave him alone and said 'What is a nice college girl doing with a savage town boy, anyway? Your mum is right, we don't match.' But when you made your way to see him again because you knew he was pushing you away. To avoid bad blood between you and your family, he did not send you away or say anything to make you feel bad about your argument. The two of you just sat next to each other until you reached for the hand resting over his thigh while getting closer to him, then you tangled your fingers with his and he did the same.

The physical contact was just a world apart, at first it was difficult because you weren't sure how to interact. You liked the guy, so you wanted to let him know he was different from the other man you talked to. You had always seemed like a cold bitch in that aspect of your life, not sure if it was for the way your mum was around her people, even if she was an affectionate mother, or if it was for the thought that guys had to earn any sort of closeness from you.

It was probably the latter because that mentality has not changed that much. You have to like someone very much to be physical in any way. On the other hand, he flinched at your approaches at first, so you respected his personal space for months until he got used to having you around for a little bit more than talking.

It was you who took the initiative in sex, even being a virgin because he was always very reserved when it came to the subject. You were kind of worried about what kept him from advancing, so you made sure to be clear enough on how far you wanted him to go. 

That day, you placed a condom box over his nightstand making sure he saw you do it, the rest was history. He was delicate and gentle, it stung at first but it wasn't painful at all and he even made you feel the fireworks. For what you knew, the first time this wasn't always the case. Besides that, Daryl didn’t seem to be a very sexual person.

You were in love with him, nothing stopped you from being with him, and no one was able to come between the two of you. You even managed to tolerate Merle in his ways and inopportune jokes. That was until his dealing with drugs fucked up everything.

Your eyes grow wet from the memories and you force yourself to blink them away. It is not the moment for a breakdown. You always knew you were not over what happened with you two but had pushed your feelings so far away in the back of your mind when you moved. You didn't know how bad that wound was still stinging, until now.

All you can do in the situation you are in is to put on your 'cold as ice' face back on and keep your shit together. At least until you get your thoughts and feelings in place and order. 

"We've got a full boat! Let's meet the man," Simon approaches the RV and knocks at the door, then walks back to where the future Negan's victims are, to stand behind them. Negan opens the door and steps out with all his weight, bouncing on his knees with Lucille’s placed intimidatingly at his shoulder. Displaying his pearly whites in a wicked grin and in that exact moment, you know that something you won't forget is about to happen. Something really, really bad.

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Pissin' Our Pants Yet?- Chapter 4: New order

💕Pairing: Negan x Female Reader 

✏️Genre/au: Canon, Action, Smut, Sci-fi, The Walking Dead Fic

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

📝Wordcount: 9173

⚠️chapter warnings: Shitloads of cursing, Gore details (zombies), Mentions of cults, mentions of cult practices, dictatorship status

<<< 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3 | 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 5 >>>

Hii! Did you stumble across this work? Glad you're here 😊 Please, let me know your thoughts once you are finished. Feedback keeps me motivated to write 😁

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

My gratitude goes to @alldevilsarehere90 for her hard work on beta reading this huge chapters🧡

"Pissing our pants yet?" says Negan, the wicked big bad wolf on full display, the dance of shadows and lights in the clearing only making him look more imposing. The alpha in him is exuding from every pore through the depths of his hatred. 

'That's how he uses his anger. He channels it to dominance and subjugation,’ you think as you watch Lucile with her dangerous wires resting at his shoulder, his head held high. If you would have met him in this situation instead, you would have felt far more terrified of him than you were back in the mall. His characteristic smile back to his lips as he starts to walk, knowing they are not yet aware of the things Gregory the pencil dick has told Simon about them. "Boy, do I have a feeling we’re getting close.'' He keeps on his advances, calmly, inspecting the prey, checking each one of them in a semicircle. "Yep, it’s gonna be Pee-Pee Pants City here, real soon," his smile doesn't fade an inch at any moment, then casually points at each one of them while asking: "Which one of you pricks is the leader?" 

"It's this one," Simon replies, pointing to a slim man seemingly in his mid-forties, judging by his peppery beard. Looking at Negan as if he isn't surrounded by at least fifty men or as if Negan is as much of a threat as a walker without legs. To a certain point, you can understand his attitude. 'The dude has taken down a bunch of Saviours like they were pigs waiting to be slaughtered, instead of soldiers to a tyrant's regime,' you remind yourself. "It's this guy," adds Simon with his typical second-in-command tone. Negan looks at the guy up and down, first curious, then gets closer, smiling widely. He already knew. 

"Hi, you’re Rick, right?" he licks his molars, knowing he’s about to break some tough questions for these people, surely: the 'What's he going to do to us?' one. But starts talking seriously and the darkness shown in his features just seconds ago, makes its way into his words. Simon, in front of you, seems to be somewhere darker, his body so tense while seeming to be standing casually, you are sure you heard his joints snap. Like a contained animal on a tight leash. "I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people," his eyes strain and his voice grows lower with those words. 

"Not cool. Not fucking cool. You have no idea how not fucking cool that shit is," the guy looks at him and you notice that sparkle in Negans eyes. Something crosses his mind. "But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah, you are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes," that smile slowly comes back to his face, the lights making his pearls stand against the dark expression in the rest of his demeanour. "Yes, you are," his tongue travels to the side of his mouth again and for some sick reason you find that sexy. "You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter fuckin' what, you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this, and it’s really very simple, so, even if you’re stupid, which you very well may be, you can understand it." There's a short pause in his speech. "You ready? Here goes, pay attention:" he adds, dropping Lucille from his shoulder to point to the guy who's sweating and shaking like jelly, probably starting to notice there's no way out or trying to figure one out, making him move uncomfortably away from her. 

"Give me your shit, or I will kill you," a confident smile appears on Negan's lips. You are the only lucky bastard at Sanctuary on that matter, there's nothing that Negan can threaten you with besides your own life and you are sure he already knows that wouldn't even be a threat. That is until Daryl has reappeared in your life and something has twisted in your soul. Bringing back the threat of trouble and something old, something you thought you left on the road. "Today was career day." Negan starts to pace in front of them with Lucille at his side, talking louder for everyone to hear. Not that you couldn't in this forest of silence. "We invested a lot so you would know who I am, and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me," he points to a short-haired woman. "That’s your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly mother-fuckin' will." there's some rage in his voice but he knows tonight the rules will be engraved in every single one of their minds with blood. That smile coming and going in the meantime, makes you hope it's just his way of making people think he doesn't care about hurting people to make them fall in line. "You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But, the word is out: You are not safe. Not even close." emphasising those last words to make a point. 'We are the only ones safe, the Saviours. Only if we follow his rules.' It makes you shiver. 

"In fact, you are fucked. More fucked if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. And if that’s too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now," he explains, extending his arms referring to the situation they are in. "The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So if someone knocks on your door, " he chuckles, "you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us, and we will knock it down. Do you understand?'' Then he cups his ear not really expecting a response, as he arches his brows towards Rick. All probably because there's still some glare-fight coming from his little crowd. The courtesy isn't replied. "What, no answer?" He steps back again to direct himself to the kneeling group. 

"You don’t really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, now, did you?" you look at the group stopping your eyes from staying too much on the one body you know. You knew him but you can't stop the thought: 'Anyone but him, please.'  "I don’t want to kill you, people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can’t do that if you’re fuckin' dead, now, can you? I’m not growing a garden.'' Then you notice a change in the air, so thick it could be cut with a knife as if the words before were just a warm-up and he is starting the main event. Starting to get serious. "But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them, more than I’m comfortable with. And for that, for that, you’re gonna fucking pay. So now, I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you." he makes a slight pause to put his weapon of choice on display. 

"This, this is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor.'' He keeps walking and stops in front of a redhead that gives him a 'Let it be me, I'm not scared of you,' kind of look, to which Negan smiles, inhaling sharply while rubbing his beard. "Huh. Ugh, I gotta shave this shit," he mutters to himself, then keeps walking till he sees the young man with the patch on his eye. "You got one of our guns." Negan squats in front of the kid. "Yeah. You got a lot of our guns," his gaze grilling on the kid but the boy keeps eye contact. You shiver, thinking that giving him a stink eye in this situation is probably a dead sentence but the boy is so young, he's probably not yet had the time to make big mistakes to pay for. 

"Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little," Negan tells him with a chuckle before clearing his throat. He moves around still not deciding, just creating tension before choosing who's gonna die tonight. But stops in front of the short-haired woman again, who already looked like she was going to pass out when she was put down from the makeshift bed and she looks even worse now, judging from Negan’s ‘not giving a fuck tone’, says: "Je-sus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now-"

"No! No!" shrieks an east asian guy, near to tears as he launches forward towards the woman. You bet, to protect her. 'They are a couple, definitely.' Dwight and another Savior reduce him quite violently, the first one pointing the crossbow to his head while the guy grunts on the ground.

"Nope," Negan, who has been watching the whole thing, starts to move again. "get him back in line," commands before sighing.

"N-noo…" grunts the guy while Dwight drags him to his place again. Then growls and yells with impotence and desperation. 'They don't look like bad people, in fact, they look like pretty normal people you would find at the grounds of Sanctuary. Maybe they just wanted to defend themselves' but it's not your call. "Don't... Don't…" the guy continues to plead, Negan chuckles again but you can't see the fun in all this even if he pointed it out to you.

"Hey, listen. Don't any of you, do that again. I will shut that shit down. No exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment," Negans' smile comes back again, "I get it." He pauses. At this point, it seems obvious how many times he's done this to know how to increase the tension and not let the situation become a bloodbath. You realise that this might, indeed, be a tough choice. He has to choose between them the one that will seal the deal. They all are very close to each other somehow, from what you've heard along the waves, seems like the community is tightly bonded together. "Sucks, doesn’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit?" He looks at them and stops his eyes at the kid again, then points him with Lucille and his gaze shifts towards Rick. "This is your kid, right?" he laughs cruelly, sucking in a croaky breath. As if it's been a funny realisation, although you know he already knew somehow before making that comment. "This is definitely your kid!" he adds with a chuckle.

"So stop that!-" growls Rick, finally saying something.

"Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don’t make it easy on me," he suggests, showing off that he already knows who is who and what's been done. "I gotta pick somebody. See, everybody's at the table waiting for me to order." He starts to walk again, with his characteristic whistle, letting the air break through his teeth before saying: "I simply cannot decide..." Then turns, giving them his back, before another dark chuckle escapes, adding to his mystique. Turning, again, to look at them, he adds:  "I got an idea…" wetting his lips, giving it a little thought and his teeth gleaming brightly again. A terrible one, you guess. 

"Eenie. Meenie." he starts, pointing at each one of them, starting at Rick. "Miney. Mo. Catch. The tiger. By. His toe. If. He hollers. Let him go..." he moves to the other end of the lined-up people. "My mother. Told me. To pick. The very. Best. One. And you. Are. It." The time stops for a second, so does your heart in anticipation. Something familiar, yet unknown, stirring up some old emotion close to terror in you. Pure terror. "Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that!" The mighty strength put on Lucille for the first hit affects his last words. Then something stops in you, a numbing sensation, swallowing anything you'd been feeling until this moment. Your blood cold in your veins as you see real blood dripping. Some old memory triggering but it doesn't clarify, it doesn't show in your mind. "Oh! Look at that! Taking it like a champ!"

"Suck. My. Nuts," replies the redhead as the blood starts flowing through his head and drips down. The people who know him cry and grunt in desperation. You can do nothing, you just stand there trying to seem like you are looking, but your mind is not focused on that anymore. 

It is hard to see someone you know, do those kinds of things to someone else but you remind yourself that this is survival to the fittest, you have chosen a side, you don’t know these people. You have to stick to the plan. They killed a bunch of your people. You are not a heartless bitch for this. Just one kill, just one and everything will be over. Your head spins on the times you've killed, it was always personal somehow: someone who was a threat, someone who'd hurt you or your family, someone hurting someone else who couldn't defend themself… What was really that different from this? Nothing. Your hands are dirty too. Who hasn't killed these days?

"Did you hear that?" You focus back to a mass of brain and blood instead of where a head should be, on the floor. Negans' voice is tired from the effort. "He said: Suck my nuts!" He exclaims, before laughing. He continues to smash the mass. This only adds to the distress of the people on their knees. Negan moans by the strength put on his act and you forget for a second the situation you are in. "Look at this!" he swings Lucille, spraying blood everywhere and makes that deep husky laugh, when he’s enjoying something way too much. "You guys, look at my dirty girl!" he continues between tired breaths. "Sweetheart. Lay your eyes on this." He adds, pointing to a woman within the kneeling group and sighs heavily. "Oh, damn. Were you- Were you together?" points out moving Lucile between the corpse and the woman. "That sucks. But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this. Red- and hell, he was, is, and will ever be red. He just took one or six or seven for the team!" he concludes, with dark humor added to his last line. You can hear all of them breathing shakily, affected by the circumstances and it spins your head, unable to get joy from it. Unable to convince yourself that joking around in a situation like this is acceptable. "So, take a damn look!'' Then,  before you notice that you have been walking at all and even less moved, you are grabbing Daryl who has tried to jump on top of Negan, surely to punch him. You whisper in his ear "Be smart, don't get anyone else killed..." he moves his head to look at you, eyes wide open, then tries to shake off from your grip. 

"Daryl!" shouts Rick.

"No! Oh, no." You see Negan pointing at Rick. After a little silence, he chuckles looking at you. Your mind processes then that he might assume you protected him, which you did too, somehow. But the darkness in his sight gives you the thought he might have caught on to  you and Daryl knowing each other. If that is it, you two are fucked, in one way or another. "Get him on his knees."

You obey and retire back to your place on the right side in the background, you begin shaking worried he might kill Daryl as he warned just minutes before. Simon approaches, "Calm down, sweetheart," he whispers, but you barely notice. The way you shake being the telltale sign of how troubled you are, makes you shoot him a murderous look and even with all his height and strength he backs up, hand leaving your shoulder. A thought occurs to you, that if Negan kills Daryl... 'Why do you still care, you idiot!? He broke up with you ages ago! Literally, ages, what? Ten-eleven-twelve years ago? Shit, who can remember that...? Maybe he is not the person you remember him to be.' You keep strong but know you will hate Negan if he kills him. You would kill him. 

In a normal situation, you would be working in a conversation with Daryl. Settle things for you to move on from the past for good. Not that you would bother with anyone else. After all, you were raised not to take bullshit from anyone. But now, 'Shit... This totally sucks...'. 

Negan looks at you once more but your head is already spinning to the past. 

You tie your middle-length, dyed black hair in a ponytail before you hand him a cup of hot chocolate from the thermos. Then you rest your head on his thighs once again. Staring up at the sky full of bright tiny dots in the darkness whilst you caress the picnic blanket next to his legs with your index, making circles while watching your breaths making foggy clouds in the air.

It was your idea to go see the stars in the middle of November but it's the best time to go stargazing, when there's less heat and humidity haze, not that you couldn't see them in summer but the view was definitely better. 

The road to Brasstown Bald has also been enjoyable by itself. Anything that has to do with going on Daryl's bike is pleasurable to you. Sometimes you wish you could just have your own and at this point, you know Daryl wouldn't be the kind to shame you about it. You can't say the same about your mum, she definitely would oppose the idea. She has had enough of her son being a biker, she doesn't want her daughter to be a biker herself. Little does she know you are actually an ol' lady. Even Merle calls you that.

You pull your furry blanket higher due to the cold and Daryl's gaze drifts towards you. In a quick movement, he places his drink over the grass, peeling off his own blanket and lies down next to you. Then takes the spare blanket and pulls it over the one you already have.

Although your heights are not so different, his much bigger frame makes you feel tiny in his arms as you cuddle, with your head against his chest. His breaths and his heartbeat are like lullabies. The tenderness filling your heart makes you wish moments like this could last forever. 

It's surprising how many things your body can do automatically. You've moved into the background from one edge of the crowd to another, being now on the left. Even with that, you've seen it all, as if you were watching. Even if you've tried to eradicate it.

"Sure. Yeah," Negan keeps his squat in front of Rick. "Give me his axe," ’Jesus. What's he gonna do with it now…?’ you wonder. Simon walks forward from his corner and hands it to Negan, who puts the axe in front of Rick and starts to get into an ironic stare-off, smiling and analyzing the man he has in front of him once again. After seeing there is no back down from Rick, his demeanour turns stern. Standing, he puts the axe in his belt with a deep sigh, then grabs Rick by the collar of his jacket and starts to drag him through to the RV. "I'll be right back. Maybe Rick will be with me. And if not, well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we?" He pushes Rick through the open door and adds: "I mean the ones that are left." He points at you and then points to the vehicle in a silent order. You jog following after him, closing the door behind, you can locate the axe pinned on the table before you sit in the copilot. Negan is already in the driving seat. He’s looking  straight ahead with determination. 

"Let's go for a ride." He tries to start the engine with no success. "Wow. What a piece of shit!" Then he sucks in with his tongue between his teeth and adds: "I'm gonna kill you..." with mockery, imitating Ricks' previous statement and chuckling at it. "Are you kidding me? Did you see what just happened? What I just did? You just..." he comments, sighing ironically. "Your best chance, is to stand up, grab that axe, and drive it to the back of my head," he states, without even turning around. You are not sure if it is due to cockiness or because he is sure Rick will not do it but you're still sitting with your legs halfway in Negan's direction in case you have to stand abruptly. "See how you do?" Now you see Negan looking through the rearview mirror. "Keep acting tough. Go ahead. Grab, the damn, axe.'' When Rick does exactly that, Negan stands up at the second, pointing an M4A1 SOPMOD previously left next to the driver seat while you point him with your Magnum Desert Eagle. You have not even bothered to get up and just turned in your seat. Negan makes a denial gesture with his head and chuckles.

"Drop it," He says in a tone that almost mimics the sigh, which causes a shiver of excitement in your body. ‘At what point have you started to like his dominant tone…? Damn girl, you're fucked up.’ Rick obeys,  the clink of the axe on the ground sounds around you. Then Negan uses the base of his weapon to hit Rick's belly, cutting off his breath. Sighing again, he sticks the axe back on the table in such way that it makes Rick reel back, even though you remain impassive. "Do not make me get up again." Concludes Negan dryly. When he turns back, you exchange glances. "Well, look at that. Dawn is breakin'." his eyes meet yours again, with a face you can not decipher, then turns back, his pearly smile doing the honors on his face once again. "It's a brand-new day, Rick," he announces with a chuckle and sits in front of the wheel, ready to go. "I want you to think about what could have happened, think about what happened, and think about what can still happen." Negan sighs as if tired of repeating himself, which is probably not a good thing for the dude on his knees. Then Negan starts the engine and the big machine finally moves. Silence falls upon you all for a few seconds and you take the chance to observe the person who has become Negan’s plaything, only to realise he is lost inside his mind. ‘Good, he's thinking, maybe this will end soon for all of us. This shit is taking too long if he just accepts that he has nothing left and that he lost… I hate this shit I wanna go home.' The day is brightening but the road is covered in a dense fog that won't let you see in an inch of distance without the lights. You hear a walker approaching just before the RV splashes its head in the front window. 

Negan laughs with malice "Oh! Boom!" jokes Negan before he keeps laughing. "That reminds you of anybody you know?" ’Oh boy...’ Another giggle comes along while bashing another walker’s head against the front of the vehicle. "Oh, yeah." The growling continues, you suppose it must be a herd attracted by all the noise that has been going on the past few hours. The brakes squeal and the engine shuts off, then Negan makes the keys jingle in his hand. Grunting, he walks to the back but you just stay and observe. Squatting on Rick’s side, he states: "You are mine. The people back there," Rick does not meet Negans' eyes as he speaks "they are mine. This," He shows Rick the axe "This is mine."

All the grunting noises coming from outside indicate a large amount of walkers approaching the RV. Negan stands up and walks to the door opening it and does something you would not expect. After killing one of the undead, looks at Rick whose eyes are on the carpet that covers the floor and with a naughty face, he throws the axe over the roof of the motorhome. "Hey, Rick, go get my axe. Let's be friends." Rick looks at him for a second, pissed off, not wanting to bow his will to Negan’s ways of humiliating people. Another walker tries to get inside, fighting for the taste of flesh. "Oh," Negan says with a chuckle, then bashes its head with Lucille. Negan sighs and angrily approaches Rick, threatening him with Lucille. "Get my axe." Moving away to leave some space for the guy to reach the door, you can see in the obvious expressions of his face that Rick is struggling to give up. But then Negan throws him out of the truck without giving him a thought and closes the door behind. You stay put, staring at Negan who's now looking back at you.

"I can't wait to get home," you whisper, looking away while you stand, more for yourself than anything else.

"Yeah. Well. I have a better idea after what I saw earlier," says Negan with a lusty whisper. You suppose he is referring to the fact that you saved his gorgeous face from a punch.

"You're welcome," you say, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. "It was nothing, really. But I was referring to going to take a nap. I'm so done..." you talk back in a playful tone while closing the distance between you. His features show he's not in the mood for pull-and-push.

"I was expecting to end what we started before. Maybe get that sweet a-" You give him a killshot glare to which he responds with a dark smile from his side.

"Language," you grill.

"Hey, didn’t mean to-" he responds quietly in contrast with his previous attitude but gets interrupted by Rick's footsteps on the roof of the RV. He looks up, forgetting about you and loud enough for Rick to hear, says: "Bet you thought you were all gonna grow old together, sittin' around the table at Sunday dinner and the happily ever after," pausing for dramatic effect. "No. Doesn't work like that, Rick. Not anymore. Think about what happened," then his eyes meet yours. "People died, Rick. It's what happened. Doesn't mean the rest of them have to. Get me my axe." There’s the lesson you mustn’t forget: he doesn’t feel like what he is doing is wrong. "Get me my axe!" repeats looking at the ceiling and then whispers to you: "So, sweetheart you are on my top list now. The way you stopped that guy, your fury..." he gets closer, expecting you to react but instead, you press your hand on his chest. He wastes no time grabbing it and kissing your wrist.

"Let's leave this for the privacy of Sanctuary, shall we?" you whisper in his ear. He puts his hand gently in your throat, catching your jaw and kisses you. You can hear in the background how the amount of walkers around the RV is increasing.

"I thought you were the guy, Rick. Maybe you're not!" speaks Negan but this time doesn't look away, his hand moves to the back of your hip. His voice louder and intense. "We'll give it one more go. Now, I really want you to try this time. Last chance," his face gets darker when he hears no movement from up, his hand leaves your hip to unlock the automatic weapon and his eyes look up before shouting: "Bring me, my axe!" then he moves quickly away from you and starts to fire it towards the ceiling, slightly away from where you could hear Ricks' footsteps. You note the thud of his run and the sound of a chain rattling. The two of you head to the back window to see him hanging, grasping like a koala onto an undead guy hanging off the bridge. Then the walkers start to pull him down by his feet when he slides a little from the moving body. You look at Negan, who only smiles at you. You gesture at him with a: 'Please, do something,' look, his only response is a chuckle and an eye roll as if he thinks you have no sense of humor. When your eyes make their way outside again, you both see how the head of the hanging corpse is separating from the body 'Jesus! That's awful!' you think, totally disgusted. Negan quickly opens the back window and starts to shoot at the walkers surrounding Rick. You move back to your seat, expecting this to be over soon.

"Clock is ticking, Rick!" Says Negan, closing the window with a knock of his hand against it, then adds, "Think about what can still happen!" You can hear Rick outside grunting, assuming he's fighting the walkers. Negan winks at you and you have to hold back the disgust you feel for his enjoyment. Negan presses the horn, to alarm Rick outside, you guess, or maybe the walkers. You can hear Rick bashing walkers on the other side of the door. One splashes against the RV, like a popped water balloon. He tries to enter but the door is locked and you can hear one more crashing against the bodywork. 

Negan calmly opens the door and shoots with his M4 clearing a little area for Rick to enter, then gets out of the way before Rick jumps in closing the door behind him, panting hard. Negan paces in the same spot, while Rick attempts to get the air back into his lungs. When he finally stands, the big boss looks him over, demanding the object with his hand. Rick reluctantly gives it to him with hate in his eyes and sits at the table with his head down. Negans' stare stays on the other man and even with his back to you, you know he is smiling. "Attaboy!" with that he sinks the axe into the table once more and walks to the wheel. You see from the corner of your eye how Rick follows him with his eyes, staring daggers at him. 'Man, you are not understanding shit, are you…?' you think. He is so focused that he seems to have forgotten your presence. Negan starts the engine and drives back to the meeting point.

"We're here, prick," states Negan, standing up and walking over to Rick, who at the same time keeps that killshot glare fixed on him. Negan notices and judging by the way he smiles, you know he's not having any of it. 'This guy has way too much testosterone or he’s just a fucking idiot. Oh lord… Just bow your head and accept you lost'. Negan starts to talk while checking on the cabinets. "This must be hard for you, right? I mean, you have been King Shit for so long. Losin' three of your own like," He snaps his fingers in front of Rick. “And yes, I'm taking the punching hellcat too.”

“Oh. Goody!" he exclaims when he finds a bottle of ethyl alcohol before opening it. Following the motion with a sigh, he leaves the cap on the table and leans on top of Rick before adding. "You were in charge." He unhooks the axe from the table, "Hell," he rubs it against Rick's jacket to remove the traces of clotted blood that cover it, making Rick wince. "you were probably addicted to it. And now," Negan starts throwing the liquid over the metal of the weapon to clean it. "well, clip, clip- that's over. But," he points out, as he takes a seat in front of Rick, "you can still lead a nice, productive life producing for me." Rick's eyes meet Negan's, not submitting and this time he passes Rick the axe by the handle. You can sense his smile again. "I think you're gonna need it. I just got a feelin'," Negan tells him before he sighs. You know that Rick is pushing his patience with the useless resistance he is showing. "So take it," he concludes, demanding. By his tone, you'd say Negan is borderline angry but you can't really tell if it's part of the game or if it's real. 'His mood swings… damn…' He stands and you follow his lead, only to see him throwing Rick out of the RV.

Negan grabs Rick by the nape again, to put him in front of his group as if he was a dog. You follow out of the RV and close the door behind you before reuniting with the rest of the crew.

"Here we are. Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you even know what that little trip was about?" inquires Negan without moving. You can now see the faces of Rick's group in detail and notice, that Daryl now has blood running down his shoulder, which pisses you off, awakening old feelings of protectiveness. "Speak when you're spoken to."

"Okay. Okay," replies Rick breathing heavily.

"That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand..." explains Negan, adding a smile when Rick gives him the look, again. "But you're still looking at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work! I wanted you to understand. So," then he squats next to the man in question, playing with Lucille in his grip. "Do I give you another chance?"

"Yeah," replies Rick rapidly, still panting. "Yes. Yes."

"Okay." Negan taps on Rick's shoulder before adding: "All right!" standing again and rubbing his nose thoughtfully. "Here it is," bouncing he paces for a moment, "the grand prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day." He then gestures to the Saviours at the back. "Get some guns to the back of their heads." obedience takes only seconds. "Good. Good. Now level with their noses, so if you have to fire-" gesturing an explosion paired with sound effects in a very graphic way, adds: "it'll be a real mess." then chuckles. "Kid," he says, calling the youngest subjects attention, inviting him with a hooked finger, then pointing to the floor where he wants him to go. "Right here." Disobedient, the boy does not move and stays put looking back at him. "Kid. Now." Finally he moves.

"You a southpaw?" Negan asks him once he is where he ordered.

"Am I a what?" asks the kiddo, giving Negan a strange look.

"You a lefty?" Negan inquires, rephrasing his question as he would to a child.

"No." replies the boy, derogatorily. ‘This kid has a fucking nerve! Like father, like son...’

"Good," adds Negan, while tying his own belt on the left arm of the kid with Lucille held under his own. "That hurt?" he wonders then, with no genuine care in his tone.

"No." 

‘God, Negan will fool himself into thinking this kid would make a good Saviour. His face says it all...’.

"Should. It's supposed to," he replies with his characteristic grin. "All right. Get down on the ground, kid. Next to daddy. Spread them wings!" orders the man, throwing the boy’s hat away at his back. The kid obeys when Negan makes him go down to the floor and gives him a final push to make his belly touch the ground, with a grunt. "Simon, you got a pen?" 

"Yeah," Simon responds, unimpressed.

"Sorry, kid," apologizes the big boss as he takes off the lid from the marker pen, then groans when he squats next to the boy as if his knees hurt after so much bouncing. With the cap held between his teeth, he starts drawing something on the kid's arm and adds: "This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across the forearm." then takes the cap from his mouth and returns it to the pen before passing it back to Simon. "There you go. Give you a little average."

"Please don't. Please don't," begs Rick, eyes pleading with Negan.

"Me?" Negan chuckles dismissively. "I ain't doing shit." then stands, with Lucille back in his grip again. "Ahh...Rick, I want you to take your axe and cut your son's left arm off, right on that line."

‘What the fuck…’ 

"Now, I know- I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die," Rick begins hyperventilating. "then Carl dies, then the people back home die, and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it."

"You-You don't have to do this. We understand. We understand." pleads a dreadlock-haired woman.

"You understand," emphasizes Negan. "Now. I'm not sure that Rick does," he remarks, before returning his attention to the man in question. "I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice." 

‘He’s got to be fucking joking… why am I even surprised at this point...’ you think. 

"Nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees- Give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine..." Then fakes to ponder on it for a second. "Probably." Squatting again directly in front of him he continues, "Rick this needs to happen now,  chop-chop, or I will crush the little fella's skull myself." he adds, aiming the baseball bat at the kids' head.

"It can-It can-It can be me. It can be me. W-W-" Rick stutters sniffing, completely discomposed. "Y-You can do it to me. I c-I can go with-with you."

"No. This is the only way..." Negan replies calmly. "Rick, pick up the axe." He orders as he stands again. A short silence is the response. "Not, making a decision, is a biiiig decision." Negan’s tone is starting to rise, meaning his patience is cracking. "You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing," Rick hyperventilates again. "Oh, my God. Are you gonna make me count? Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting. Three!"

"Please…" Rick starts crying, "Please…" he gasps, "It can be me. Pleeease!" the crying intensifies, desperation evident in his words. "Please don’t…"

"Two!" Shouts Negan without compassion.

"Please, don't do-" "Rick continues pleading while sobbing. 

"This is it," replies Negan, after he squats to grab the crying man's face to make his point clear. "One!"

"Aaah!" Growls Rick desperately.

"Dad just do it." you can hear the kid whisper. “Just do it." 

‘What a pair of balls.’ 

Rick stays there struggling, breathing heavily and you start to think he might pass out. You have seen someone do so before, being under pressure, sometimes the body just collapses but instead, he keeps screaming, grabs the axe and points it to the sky, getting ready to do what he knows will change his kids' life. Negan squats next to Rick again, but his face is an image of winning and pride. Rick looks at him with the most pleading eyes you’ve ever seen. Broken.

"You answer to me. You provide for me." Rick nods obediently. All you can think is, 'This is what Sherry meant when she said he always gets what he wants, no matter what…' "You belong to me. Right?" growls Negan, while the man continues nodding, eagerly trying to get air back into his lungs. "Speak when you're spoken to!" shouts Negan grabbing Rick’s face violently "You answer to me! You provide for me!"

"Provide for you" replies Rick in a broken voice.

"You belong to me, right?!" remarks Negan, still shouting.

"Right," Rick answers.

"Right." Negan wins. ‘Negan always wins.' you think. 

"That. Is the look I wanted to see!" He exclaims, standing again. But things aren't over yet as he grabs the axe. "We did it, all of us, together. Even the dead on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure." sighing, he adds: "Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sakes, that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you, that," he interrupts himself, chuckling. "is over now. Ah..." he adds before doing something that puts you on high alert, pointing at Daryl with Lucille: "Dwight! Load him up.'' The man in question has to put some effort to pull him back to the back of the van before he points at Daryl with the crossbow. Then you look at Daryl for a last time, his eyes meet yours before they close the doors. 

Negan squats again, next to Rick. "He's got guts- Yeah, he does. Not a little bitch like someone I know," he remarks, mocking Rick. "I like him. He's mine now. But you still want to try something?-Not today, not tomorrow- Not today, not tomorrow-? I will cut pieces off of-" he looks confused for a second and directs his eyes to Simon. "Hell's his name?"

"Daryl," Simon answers solemnly.

"Wow." Negan chuckles. "That actually sounds right!" his eyes dart back to Rick. "I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep." smiling he decides to rephrase: "Or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me." then he chuckles and pats Rick's shoulder before standing up. "Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits!" he shouts, theatrically. "I'm gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me." Then everybody starts to move, including Negan. You too in his direction. "We'll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then ta-ta!"

With that, he leaves behind his trail of destruction. In this case, it is more psychological than physical. 

You leave along with Negan, right behind him as you both get into the car. There and then the tiredness hits you. ‘Shit, I’m getting too comfortable… I was never this tired when alone.' But you put your seat back and close your eyes in what could be read as a trustful gesture towards Negan. You can feel his glare for a second but you just relaxe and let the darkness consume you. Then you are in a different place. 

It’s a cold night, too cold to be outside but your group has not found a shelter yet. After two days of walking around, trying to find food and medicines for Eric, the member who has been ill for a few days. Without that luck, it’s just getting worse. You have no other option than to light a fire for all of you to warm up. Laura and Alan, the blonde couple will keep the watch during the night so the rest of you can sleep. 

You wake up, startled by a scream, to find Eric has inexplicably become a walker. He had just a bad cold, no bite, no scratch. Now he's attacking your mum, who was sleeping right next to him to offer some aid during the night. 

He is ripping right into her throat by the time you all react to the horrible scene unfolding before you. Your first reaction is to put a bullet through his head. Running towards your mum, you can only watch as she chokes on her own blood. Tears start running down your cheeks and a hard lump forms in your throat, as you contain a scream of pain. Out of love and compassion, you show mercy by shooting her right in the middle of the forehead. 

You stand there, staring at her lifeless body with no light in her eyes, it's as if time has stopped, as if you were frozen, unable to move a muscle. She’s gone. Your mother is dead. 

The warm tears keep falling but you are numb, your thoughts collapsing, until you feel a hand pulling you before snapping back to reality. The screams and the gunshot have attracted more walkers to your camp. Some members of your group are already dead, their bodies scattered around you with chunks of them missing. Finally reacting, you run in the direction you are being pulled in. Your brother has your hand and you are both already breathless in your escape. 

After killing a few walkers on your way, you two get to a tree to rest for a few and that is when you notice it. Your hand is wet with red, blood, your brother's blood. You follow the trail up to his shoulder to see a bite. He is already losing too much blood, it probably nicked an artery. 

"John…" he hushes you. "John." You whisper this time. "You are bleeding..." you say. As if he hasn’t noticed yet, his eyes follow your gaze to his arm, under the light of the moon it seems to illuminate it.

"Shit!" he whispers. "Fuck!" you see a walker go the way you just came from. "You have to shoot me, Allie."

"What!? No!" He hushes you again. "No way…" you insist, adamant.

"I’m going to die, Alice." That shoots you like a bullet through the heart and you start to sob. "I don’t want to become one of those things… and I will only slow you down if we go together, for me to end up like them anyway. I don’t want to put you in danger.'

"Please don’t…" You can't stop crying. You feel weak and lonely all of a sudden. Unable to believe you are going to lose the only people you ever loved in your life on the same night. Your mum and your brother wiped out like dust in the wind. As if they were nothing. "I can’t do this alone… Please…"

"Allie, I love you and I want you to try to live. There has to be somewhere you can live a life, there has to be somewhere. I want you to find it. I want you to fight for it. I want you to live. Promise me you will live." You don’t say anything. "Promise me, Alice."

"I promise." You say and hug him, only to feel the accelerated beating of his heart, working very hard to keep the blood pumping through his body.

"You have to do it now," he mutters. You don’t know how much time has passed but you can see your brother looks paler. He tries to pick up the gun that is still in your hand but you pull your hand away. He looks at you, eyes pleading, but you can’t do it. Something stops you. Something selfish that wants to keep clinging onto your bond.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…" you whisper as you cry. He nods, understanding, and with a movement faster than you expect, he yanks the gun out of your hand and shoots himself in the temple.

You whimper and automatically cling to his body stopping it from falling. You cradle him, burying your head against his chest, letting the knot in your throat break in a pained cry.

You wake up with a whimper as someone's hand moves you. You panic for a second but then notice you're still in Negan's car and he’s been the one to shake you awake.

"Sorry, love. You seem to be going through hell there." You notice the warm sensation of tears falling through your cheeks. "Oh shit…" You rush to swipe at your skin unwilling to show your weakness.

"I’m fine" he looks at you, clearly not believing it but he doesn't press it as he returns his eyes to the road. Noticing you’re shaking, you put your seat straight and rub your hands feeling strangely numb. ‘If the nightmare is back, it has to mean something’. 

You are still restless when you get out of the car. Negan starts ordering you, the Saviours, to occupy your next hours resting since he's satisfied with the job you all did. You see Dwight taking Daryl out of the van, Negan gives him a nod, and then he walks to the door and disappears through it. You feel the urge to go behind them and make sure Daryl is fine but that would be a serious mistake, for the both of you. So masking your nervousness, you lead the way through the corridors. Feeling a big, warm hand take hold of your wrist, takes you by surprise and your first response is to snatch your hand away that is before you realize it’s Negan.

"What’s going on?" He wonders seriously.

"Sorry, I'm just really tired," you reply showing a toothy smile but Negan does not buy it.

"I wouldn’t like to have a misunderstanding here, so, for your own sake, tell me what’s going on." He asks politely, yet there's a threatening undertone to it.

"I just vividly dreamed about how my mum and brother died… I think I’m feeling a little bit out of my body right now. My apologies," you answer, deleting the smile from your face. You can’t believe the fact that Negan gets closer and kisses your forehead.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a few hours," he whispers. You nod appreciating the gesture, and with that you leave, walking slowly through the empty corridors. Once again in your room, you let your body fall on top of the bed and everything becomes pitch dark again. 

You wake up confused and alarmed for a second before realising where you are. It's night time and silence reigns at Sanctuary, as always. That's one good thing that came along with the disease. The silence. 'Some day nature will win it's place back.' you wish.

You get up from the bed thinking it could be a good chance to sneak out and get into the cells and see Daryl again, to know what kind of treatment he has been given. 

'Am I stupid to worry about him?' you wonder.  Looking through the room in the darkness, only the moonlight allows you to find the clothes you were wearing earlier. Still not showered, there is no point in changing the garments. 

Your steps lead you to the cells. The door isn't closed but you take a careful look at what's around you, in case there's someone on watch. There's an annoying song playing on repeat but you don't dare touch the music player. Surprisingly, there is no one looking after the prisoners. Taking the chance to look at which doors are locked before you find out only one of them is. Then you find yourself entering the guardian's room, looking for the set of keys. 

Opening the door you see a plastic plate on the floor with some sort of sandwich and Daryl covering his eyes from the light in the corridor, in one corner of the room. Your eyes fall over his dirty clothes and hair, thinking how the man has definitely seen better days. Then you realise he's looking at you. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, feeling stupid. He's obviously not but it's more like an opener of conversation. You begin to squat in front of him and reach out to touch his shoulder, only for him to avoid it. 

"I mean no harm…"

"Why are you with them?" he inquires, fierce eyes meeting yours.

"Seems things have taken a twist, uh?" you reply bitterly, unable to hold your tongue without that judgement.  "Now I'm the one with the bad guys and you're with the good ones. Who would have said that ten years ago, when your brother screwed everything up and you… still chose him," you grill him sarcastically, he lowers his head just slightly while still analyzing your face. 'Are you sorry or you are still your brother's puppy dog?'

"It was-" he tries to speak but you interrupt him.

"I was alone. I had no option. Also… I thought it could be a better chance of survival," his eyes still hard on you soften a little, just slightly enough for you to notice. "Don't lecture me, from what I've heard you killed dozens of Saviours for no apparent reason…"

"If you think they are good people you're delusional," he comments. You chuckle. It seems that some of Negan’s traits might be running off on you.

"Call me whatever you like Daryl… I've always done right by my conscience, I'm not going against it now." You whisper the last word. "I'll also remind you what I said that day; 'I forgive you'. No matter how bitter I am about it." you whisper that close to his ear, waiting for him to lash out at you but only surprise alters his features. He says nothing. When you move to stand, you find something calling your attention in the corner of your eye. Dwight's shocked look from the other side of the door with a sandwich in his right hand.

You calmly close the door and walk his way handing him the set of keys, with a dangerous smile, warning him to keep it a secret. If he were to drag you down, he would fall too and you both know it. Instead, he just nods and you keep walking while deciding it might be a good idea to have a shower and some food. 

In a hurry, you walk to pick up your stuff and rush to the showers, in case you are needed for anything. Afterwards with your hair still damp you sit on the couch of your room, opening a can of sardines, and cutting some bread to fill your stomach, even though it's still quite nauseous from the previous events. 'He's there, eating shit and I'm here eating like a monarchy these days. If I was lucky I wouldn't even know he's still alive…'

You are almost done when you hear a recognisable knock. 

"Come in," you call.

"Hello, darling," says Negan, swinging the door open slowly and entering with his hand still on it. His eyes meet yours with darkness.

Taglist @stxrg4zer @indigosparkle444 @paintlavillered

I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know your thoughts and reblog to let it spread 😊 See you soon! ~

Drawing Negan! ψ(｀∇´)ψ Because he’s so cute and sweet (*´꒳`*)

And yes, the shirt is a reference to Eugenes "Virginia" shirt. I don’t know if I saw an edit that was like that or if I literally just was tweaking and I misread it (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

I don’t own the characters, all rights belong to the creators of the comics/TV series.

Here is new friend of Wesker and Chris. And a little better project from needle felting which was a gift for my best friend 🤍

It’s me. I’m bitches.

Tag, you're it 🍭🐺

Cegan fanart inspired by my favorite Melanie Martinez song 💕

Basically him explaining I’m to young for him..

(FYI I don’t care lmao-)

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

august 25, 2010

Delilah's eighteenth birthday was a tragic one. She spent it in a hospital room, watching her father connected to life-support machines. Carl stayed by the bedside, holding his father's hand, his sobs muffled in the blankets, while their mother stood just outside the door, speaking animatedly with a doctor. Shane tried to calm her, gently placing a hand on her arm.

Delilah felt suffocated in that hospital room. She curled up in a chair in the corner, hoping her father would wake up, but everyone knew, except Carl, that this wouldn't happen. At least, not now.

Carl's sobs grew louder, echoing in the empty room. Delilah had to fight back her own tears at the sight of her little brother in such distress. His desperation was palpable, especially when he offered to donate his blood to help their father.

She rose from the chair and went to Carl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He immediately sought refuge in her embrace, letting go of their father's hand and clinging to her with all his strength, tears soaking her shirt.

"Will he wake up?" he whispered. Delilah stroked his hair, trying to soothe him.

"I don't know," she replied. His sobs grew louder at this, and she felt a pang of guilt for not fully comforting him, but she didn't want to lie. She understood how these things worked, she knew what her father's job entailed, and unfortunately, their mother had prepared her over the years for such a possibility.

But Carl was young; he couldn't grasp what was happening, not yet. "Everything will be okay, Carl. I promise," she whispered like a mantra, holding him close until his cries began to soften.

The door to the room opened, and their mother entered with Shane, both looking devastated. Delilah knew what this meant. The doctor had no good news, and that could only mean one thing: Rick Grimes had very little chance of survival.

"Let's go home, kids," Lori whispered, her gaze never leaving her husband. "Let's give Dad some time to recover." Her voice was barely audible, but they got up anyway, Carl still in his sister's arms as they left the room in silence, followed by Shane.

"I'll take you home," Shane offered. "Go get some rest, and we'll wait for news from the hospital. Don't hesitate to call me for anything; it's what Rick would want."

"Thank you, Shane," Lori replied, accepting the comforting embrace he offered. It made Delilah shiver, and she held Carl even tighter. There was something wrong, something she had never seen before in Shane's eyes, and it was something she wished had remained hidden.

“How's your dad?”

“I don't know. He's in the hospital, and from what I understand, there isn't much good news. I just hope he gets better soon,” Delilah replied over the phone, pacing back and forth in her room. “It was a really shitty birthday present.”

Camilla chuckled on the other end. “I can imagine, but things will get better. I wanted to drop by to see you all, bring something for you and Carl, and even Lori, but my mom won't let me leave because of some weird news on TV.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that. It's probably another hoax. Tumblr is full of them lately. People losing their minds and doing stupid stuff. Did you see that post?”

“Which one?”

“Liza reblogged it. Apparently, cannibalism is making a comeback,” Delilah joked, unaffected by the macabre video circulating online. “It's probably fake, almost certainly, but it's one of the weirdest trends in the past few weeks.”

“Ew!” exclaimed Camilla. “And you watched it? You're crazy; I don't know how you don't throw up at that stuff.”

Delilah shrugged, taking a bite of the apple in her hand. “It's fake anyway. I doubt a group of lunatics would go around America eating people without getting caught. And the person filming it is way too calm.”

“You're weird, girl, let me tell you,” Camilla sighed on the other end. “Ugh, I have to go. My mom is freaking out over this news and wants to go back to Mexico to stay with relatives. She seriously sounds like a crazy woman!”

Delilah laughed. “Alright, see you tonight?”

“I don't think so, especially if my mom keeps this up. Talk to you tomorrow, girl!”

When she finished the apple, she tossed it out the window into the neighbor's garden, unconcerned about the complaints she would hear the next day. Her curiosity was piqued by her mother’s worried voice coming from the kitchen, apparently talking on the phone.

She left her room, peeked into Carl’s and quietly closed the door, seeing him asleep on the bed with one of their father's hoodies as a blanket. The sight made her heart ache; seeing her little brother in such a state broke her heart.

"Is everything okay?" she asked her mother as she came down the stairs, entering the kitchen where Lori was barricading the windows with blankets, blocking out the light. "What are you doing?"

Lori turned, surprised by the intrusion. Her face was full of worry. "Help me," she ordered, tossing Delilah some blankets and heading to the living room.

Delilah started to panic, confused by Lori's strange behavior. "Mom, what’s going on?" she asked, raising her voice, but Lori didn’t answer her directly.

"You're not going out tonight."

"What?! Why?" Delilah exclaimed, dropping the blankets. "You can't do this to me, it’s been planned for weeks! Mom?" She felt her anger rising, irritated by her mother's behavior.

She watched Lori move frantically around the house. "No one is leaving. Now help me until Shane gets here," Lori said, turning to look at her, and Delilah was shocked to see the pure terror on her mother’s face. Her anger turned into sheer fear.

"Mom?" she called. "Mom, what’s happening?"

Lori stopped, running her hands through her hair. "I don’t know, honey, I don’t know. Shane called from the hospital saying something’s happening, people are losing their minds, biting other patients. It's chaos in there, just like in the city. Everyone’s trying to leave."

"Leave from what?" Delilah asked, confused.

"I don’t know, something they mentioned on TV. But now help me and wake Carl up, we need to get ready to go," Lori resumed covering the windows. Heart pounding, Delilah went to wake Carl.

Delilah watched the landscape outside the window. The sky had grown dark, and they had been driving for hours, not knowing exactly where they were headed. She had heard Shane mention a refuge in downtown Atlanta, and the initial plan was to reach it as soon as possible. However, it seemed the entire city had the same idea, as they quickly found themselves stuck in traffic, an endless line of cars ahead of them.

“Wait here,” Lori said to the two kids as she got out of the car, followed by Shane, who went to talk to other people who had also stepped out of their vehicles, realizing they wouldn't be able to get out of this traffic jam anytime soon.

Delilah watched Carl looking around, alert. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, leaning her head against the window. “They’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

Carl turned to her. “How can you be so calm?”

“I’m tired,” she answered simply, closing her eyes to block out the external noises: people shouting, arguing, and especially the car horns blaring. “If you sleep, time passes faster.”

“I’m not sleepy, I want Mom,” Carl said, shifting on the seat to look outside, searching for Lori. “They’re coming back!” he exclaimed when he saw Lori and Shane returning with some other people.

“See? I told you it’d be okay,” Delilah said, growing more exhausted with each passing minute. She soon fell asleep, succumbing to the embrace of Morpheus.

But her peace was short-lived. Loud noises jolted her awake, and she noticed the car was now empty. Panic set in as she frantically looked for Carl, hoping he hadn’t wandered off to explore. Relief washed over her when she saw him with a group of people, playing with a blonde girl.

Shane and Lori were near their car, looking up at the sky from where the noise originated. Delilah joined them, also looking up, trying to understand what they were watching.

Lori took her by the shoulders, hugging her. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in her ear, stroking her hair. “As long as we’re together, it’ll be okay.”

The noise grew louder, and planes flew overhead. It didn’t take them long to realize where they were headed. Delilah followed Shane, who entered the woods, moving in the direction the planes were flying, with Lori right behind them.

“What’s happening?” she tried to ask, but her voice was drowned out by the roar of more planes passing overhead.

They stopped when they emerged from the woods near the highway. Delilah brought her hands to her mouth, horrified by the sight before her. Atlanta was being bombed, and even from that distance, they could see the explosions, the city lighting up in flames.

The refuge was gone, just like the normalcy of their entire world.

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Home?

“The world’s gone to shit.”

“Don’t talk like that, Delilah!” her mother scolded while thanking Emily for finding mushrooms to eat. “There’s only one way to know.”

“Asking Shane when he gets back?” asked the blonde, who was perhaps a few years older than Delilah.

Around them, a large group of people kept themselves busy in any way they could, trying to fill the empty moments and be helpful during this crisis. It was a kind of routine, something that allowed everyone to feel useful.

Delilah, however, seemed unable to adapt like the others. It had been a week since they had gathered at a mountain clearing, hoping they were far enough from the city to avoid attracting any of those things. Yet, every day, she found herself just watching the people moving around her.

The only useful thing she had done was help Daryl Dixon skin a squirrel. Daryl was a peculiar man—gruff, yet always ready to lend a hand around the small camp.

She glanced at her mother from the corner of her eye as she saw her stand up, looking for Dale, an old man with his beloved RV, to inform him she was going for a walk. Dale preferred spending his time on the roof of his RV with binoculars, keeping an eye on the surroundings and ensuring everyone was safe.

The man nodded, and Delilah looked away, feeling a strange sensation in her stomach. She knew that every time her mother left the camp when Shane was absent, it meant they were meeting secretly. Delilah knew what they were doing, and the mere thought made her nauseous.

Shane had been her father’s best friend and had recently returned with the news that her father was as good as dead in that hospital. Since then, her mother had thrown herself into Shane’s arms. Maybe out of desperation, but Delilah couldn’t find a good reason no matter how she looked at it.

“How are you?” Emily took Lori’s place, sitting closer to Delilah. “I know it’s not easy.”

Delilah shrugged. “Doesn’t change much for me,” she lied. “The gnats are bothering me more than this shitty situation, to be honest.”

Emily nodded. “Then you’re handling it better than many others.”

“We can say that. There’s not much we can do, in the end, whether we like it or not.”

Let me know if there are any more adjustments or details you’d like to add!

Delilah wanted to believe her own words, to find a light within that abyss, but it seemed impossible. She felt exhausted; sleeping with the constant fear of dying was something she wasn't used to and probably never would be.

Learning to live differently, finding a new balance—that was what they needed to do, and Delilah was afraid she wouldn't be able to manage it. She couldn’t accept that her world was truly over; everything that once mattered now meant nothing.

Emily sighed, getting up to go to her sister. Delilah knew she was drawing more and more glares each day, always sitting on the same log doing nothing. But she couldn’t bring herself to get up and help more.

Sometimes, she helped Daryl skin his catches or sat under the umbrella with Dale, watching the landscape while he obsessively scanned the area. She felt like she was going crazy, having to look after Carl because her mother was too busy screwing her dead father’s best friend.

Carl interrupted her thoughts, practically sitting on her lap, forcing a smile. "Hey, troublemaker, what’s up?"

"Nothing. Mom told me to stay where you could see me," he said, returning to playing with the toy cars Shane had given him. "And I’m bored."

Delilah hugged him, resting her head on his. "I’m bored too."

She glanced over at her mother, venturing into the woods under the watchful eyes of several survivors. Her mother’s affairs weren’t exactly a secret. Delilah felt almost embarrassed, uncomfortable with her mother’s behavior, as if her betrayal struck her on a personal level.

She could hear Andrea whispering to Emily, the curious looks from Carol. It wasn’t a secret, just like the fact that her mother had been married until a few days ago.

"Come on," she said, turning to Carl as she stood up and took his hand. "Let’s go bother Dale up there."

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The October breeze sent a shiver through Delilah as she sat atop Dale's camper. She found the spot strangely comforting; observing the world from above allowed her to feel a semblance of control over her life.

She hadn’t shed a tear since what she considered the apocalypse began. She couldn't feel anything but a deep emptiness inside, like she was a soulless body, just like the dead roaming their land.

Sometimes she woke in the middle of the night, gasping, hoping to find herself back in her bed, with Carl tucked under the covers after a bad dream, or her mother coming in to wake her, smiling at the sight of the two siblings.

But nothing was the same anymore, even though many struggled to accept it. The world had changed, and with it, the people. Her mother was a perfect example; it had been two months since the world ended, and the woman she once loved now only evoked disgust in her, just like Shane. Shane, who she had once had a crush on as a child, who had taught her to ride a bike, was now just a stranger.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Dale took a seat next to her, resting his rifle on his lap, ready if needed. “I know you’re scared, we all are. But we have to stick together and find a way to move forward.”

Delilah glanced at him, chuckling. “Is that a nice way of telling me I should get off my ass and help?”

The old man laughed, his laughter echoing in the quiet morning. They were probably the only ones awake at that hour, except for Dixon, who preferred wandering the woods over staying with the group. Delilah couldn’t blame him.

“You know what?” Dale turned to the girl, curious about what she meant. “There’s nothing worth my time. I don’t want to go picking mushrooms or berries with Emily, fishing with Andrea, or doing laundry with Carol and the others!”

She sank deeper into her chair. “I want to be really useful, to have a purpose. Helping Daryl, for example, or going into the city with Glenn, Andrea, Merle, and T-Dog. Not stuck here, in a glass bubble because my mom is paranoid.”

“Your mother cares about you and Carl; it's completely understandable why she wouldn’t want to throw you into the middle of all those walkers. I get it, it's a mother’s love speaking.”

The two fell silent after their brief interaction, listening to the birds' chirping and enjoying the last rays of sun before winter. October was unusually warm that year, but nothing guaranteed the winter would be the same. They had to prepare for a possible sudden cold snap.

Delilah wrapped herself in her red leather jacket, perhaps a bit too heavy for the mild weather, but the warmth reminded her of home, when everything was normal.

Home—a concept that had lost all meaning in a few weeks. None of them had a home anymore, even though Lori insisted that as long as the four of them stayed together, they were home. But Delilah had never heard anything more ridiculous.

Shane wasn’t home, and her mother might as well leave if it were up to her. She couldn’t look her in the eye anymore; the only thing her presence reminded her of was the constant orders. Do this, do that.

A noise from the woods caught Delilah's attention, causing Dale to jump to his feet and aim his rifle in the direction of the sound. Soon, the figure of Daryl emerged from the trees, with squirrels slung over his shoulder. The man shot a glare at Dale and gave Delilah a quick nod. She obeyed, quickly climbing down from the camper to meet him.

“Here,” he handed her the squirrels before heading back into the woods. Delilah watched him until he disappeared, finding him to be a particularly intriguing man. Without wasting time, she settled into her usual spot, took out her knife, and began making a circular cut around the tail.

When she finished, her hands were covered in blood, but at least they would have something to eat. The sun had fully risen by now, waking up the rest of the group and starting the daily chores. Carl soon joined her, clinging to her side out of boredom, following her around all day until Sophia invited him to play with the other kids.

In a way, she envied them as she watched them run around the camp, seemingly unfazed, as if they were just at a summer camp while she was stuck rotting in her usual spot. T-Dog had joked that she’d probably wear a hole in the log from sitting there so much.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Lori's voice came from behind her as she placed a kiss on Delilah's head. “Did you sleep well? How long have you been up?” Delilah shrugged.

Lori sighed, placing her hands on her hips, clearly distressed. She knelt in front of her daughter, trying to catch her eye. “Delilah... please look at me,” she said, taking Delilah's face in her hands, forcing her to make eye contact. “I know it’s tough, but—”

“No, don’t lecture me. You don’t have the right when you’re sleeping with Dad’s best friend,” Delilah interrupted, her tone harsh. Lori was taken aback, left speechless. She looked at her daughter, mouth agape, unable to find a defense because, in reality, she didn’t even know how to defend herself. “Do you really think you're being discreet? Everyone here knows! And you don’t know how ashamed I am that you’re my mother. You come off as nothing but a slut right now. You jumped into his arms right away, you didn’t even mourn Dad.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” Lori snapped, but Delilah stood up, leaving her mother alone, ignoring her calls. She had no intention of wasting time arguing about something that should never have been up for debate.

Hearing the commotion, Shane got up from the chair where he was cleaning knives and grabbed Delilah's arm. “Is everything okay?”

She looked at him, wondering if his kindness and concern were just a ploy to win her over, but she had no intention of playing his game. “Don’t touch me, you disgust me,” she snapped, shaking off his arm and walking away, hoping to find some peace and quiet.

Shane turned to Lori, confused, and seeing her devastated expression, he quickly pieced together what had happened. He rubbed his forehead, unsure of how to handle the situation, knowing that from now on, working with Delilah would be even more challenging.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

“What are you doin’ out here, kid?” Daryl's voice startled her. She turned quickly, noticing him sitting under a tree, working on his crossbow. “It’s dangerous.”

“I needed some space,” she shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “What are you doing?” she ventured to ask.

He looked her up and down, a perpetual scowl on his face. “Stuff.”

Delilah stared back, unfazed by his usual cold demeanor. Gathering her courage, she sat down next to him, leaning against the tree, hoping he wouldn’t shame her by sending her away. To her surprise, he said nothing, only casting the occasional sidelong glance.

“Not here to comfort you, if that’s what you want,” he said abruptly, making her turn to him. His eyes were fixed on his crossbow, his thick fingers adjusting a loose string.

“I just need some silence,” she replied, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze rustling the leaves above them, the sunlight warming her face. Finding moments of peace in this new world was rare. One always had to be on guard, and Delilah just wanted to rest for a few hours. Surprisingly, Daryl let her.

They stayed there for what felt like hours, lulled by the chirping of birds and occasional laughter from the camp. Her tranquility was abruptly cut short when Daryl nudged her foot with his boot. She opened one eye, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Get up. I’m going huntin’.”

“Can I come with you?” Delilah's request seemed to put Daryl in a quandary. He looked at her with annoyance, but she took it as a victory that he didn’t immediately say no. She stood up, brushing dirt and leaves off her pants, following him into the woods. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He stopped, turning to her and pointing a finger in her face. “Stay behind me. Don’t make noise.”

Delilah mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, earning an eye roll from him. She would do anything to break the routine, and if that meant staying silent as a mime, so be it.

She drew a knife from her belt, ready for any unexpected encounter with one of the undead. Daryl moved through the forest as if he knew it like the back of his hand, his steps silent despite his size. Occasionally, he would stop, aim his crossbow at the treetops, and fire, hitting a squirrel that fell to the ground, lifeless. 

He handed them to her, instructing her to tie them to a rope he gave her so they could carry more than a couple at a time. She obeyed, finally feeling genuinely useful for something other than playing house.

The sun was high in the sky, indicating it was probably early afternoon when they were drawn to a strange noise. “What the hell is that?”

“Sounds like an alarm,” Delilah said, moving next to Daryl, trying to determine the source of the noise. But another thought invaded her mind. She turned to him, panic rising inside her. “Won’t it attract the walkers?”

Daryl seemed to come to the same conclusion because he nodded and started retracing their steps. “Let’s get back to camp. It’s not safe.” She followed him like a faithful puppy, worried he might leave her in the woods with no way to find her way back because, if she were completely honest, she hadn’t paid attention to their direction.

It took them a while to return to camp, but when they arrived, they noticed the alarm had stopped. The source was a sleek red car. She turned to Daryl, hoping he might appreciate a good engine, but when she looked, he was already heading back into the woods.

She sighed, guessing they had only returned so he could ditch her there, getting rid of her presence. “Jerk,” she muttered, placing the squirrels near the makeshift kitchen and turning back to inspect the car.

“We’ll get some good parts for the RV from this,” Dale said, coming up beside her, examining the engine to check its condition. Delilah grimaced. “Do you really have to tear it apart?”

The old man smiled, leaning over the hood. “We need the parts. Besides, believe me, you’ll find another nice car. Not like anyone can do much with them now.”

“Dad!” Carl’s shout made her turn quickly, searching for her little brother. When she saw him, her knees nearly gave out. If not for the car, she would have collapsed.

Carl and her mother were running toward a man in a sheriff’s uniform, and Delilah thought she might be losing her mind. Maybe she had hit her head somewhere or was having a stupid hallucination. Maybe it was finally her time; maybe she was truly going crazy.

But when her father picked up Carl, falling to the ground and holding him as if his life depended on it, she realized her father was really there. Rick Grimes was alive.

Her heart tightened in her chest as she watched her mother hug and kiss him, but it couldn’t distract her from the fact that her father was alive. She saw him cry with joy as he embraced his family, then pull back slightly to look around, asking Lori something.

Delilah moved from where she had been leaning against the car, meeting her father’s eyes before running toward him. He caught her in his arms, lifting her off the ground and kissing her head, repeating how much he loved her like a mantra.

For the first time since the end of the world, Delilah Grimes cried in her father’s arms.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

“Can I come with you?” Delilah asked, approaching the group preparing to head back into the city to search for Merle Dixon and the bag full of guns. Rick didn’t even turn around before responding.

“No, sweetheart, it’s too dangerous. Stay here with your mom and Carl.”

“But—”

“No way, Lilah, don’t even think about it.” Rick insisted, giving her a kiss on the head before setting off with the group towards the city, once again leaving the rest of the camp to fend for themselves.

Delilah sighed, returning to her usual spot until Carl approached her with a smile. “Wanna come catch frogs with us?”

Delilah glanced at Shane behind the boy, noticing how his demeanor had shifted since her father's return. The mere thought made her nauseous, but what worried her most was the change in his gaze—possessive, dangerous.

“Uh, okay,” she agreed, letting the two boys lead the way while maintaining her distance from Shane and staying silent until they reached the women at the river, who were washing clothes.

It was a sweltering day for October, but none of them complained, instead relishing the warmth. They had been lucky to find a quarry so close to camp, providing them with fish and water to sustain them.

“I can’t catch anything,” Carl whined, his feet in the water, while Delilah watched from a rock, not entirely convinced to join them in the cold water.

Shane glanced around, then turned to the boy. “Yeah.” The atmosphere between the two was tense, different from just a few days ago, and Delilah was curious about what had happened, what had been said, to change their relationship so drastically.

In all the years Shane had been part of family events, dinners, lunches, and birthday parties, there had never been such a strange tension between them.

“They’re smart, they stay underwater,” Shane added.

“Maybe they’re just not interested in you,” Delilah commented. Her remark wasn’t entirely ignored, but Shane chose not to respond beyond a tight smile, not letting on that her words had irked him. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper in front of Carl.

“Little bastards, they know something’s up. That’s why you have to do it the old-fashioned way.” Shane proceeded to explain a rather pathetic plan to Carl, to which the boy responded with lukewarm enthusiasm.

Shane lay in wait before diving into the water, splashing Delilah. At least Carl seemed to be enjoying himself, laughing as he watched Shane thrash around in the water and warning him about the frogs swimming towards him.

There were no frogs, but that was a detail Delilah chose not to share with Carl.

When Shane sprayed water towards Carl, it hit Delilah square on, causing her to stand up and try to wring out her clothes. It wasn’t the time or place to get sick from a sudden gust of wind.

"Come on, Delilah! It's just a game!" Carl exclaimed when he saw her walking away from the quarry, a little sad that his sister had left. "Wait for me!"

He left the net in the water, moving away from Shane and trying to catch up with Delilah, catching her by the shirt. "You're not mad, are you? It wasn’t Shane's intention to get you wet."

"No, Carl, I'm fine. I just don't want to get sick, that's all," she reassured him, and the boy looked at her in silence. "I promise, pinky swear." She extended her little finger, and Carl smiled, hooking his with hers. Shane caught up with them shortly after, soaked from head to toe, a serious look on his face as he watched Delilah crouch down to Carl's level.

She took him by the hand, leading him out of the quarry to dry him off and make sure he didn't catch a cold either. Once she was sure he was in dry clothes, Delilah insisted he take a nap to recharge his energy, especially since there was nothing else to do, trying to fill his time as much as possible.

But voices outside the tent woke him up, also stirring Delilah from her daze. "What's going on?" he asked, yawning and stepping out of the tent, his sister following soon after.

They saw much of the group heading towards a side of the camp, and they decided to join them, holding Carl's hand in case there was danger. She kept him behind her, acting as a shield until they stopped in front of a rather bizarre scene.

Delilah approached Carol. "What's happening?"

The woman shook her head. "I have no idea. It seems like it's been going on for hours. The heat must have gotten to him, poor thing."

A man named Jim was digging holes in the ground, and the most frightening and chilling thing that gave Delilah goosebumps was the fact that they were human-sized. She held Carl close, worried that Jim had really lost his mind and was about to do something foolish.

"Jim, why don't you stop?" Shane tried to talk to him, but the man continued undeterred, acting as if he hadn't heard him, and given his condition, it was highly likely that he hadn't.

The sun beat down harder than ever, and Delilah found herself compelled to take off her jacket to avoid risking heatstroke; her shirt was sticking to her back due to a thin layer of sweat that was starting to cover her forehead as well.

"What do you want?" Jim's voice was hoarse, tired, and irritated.

"We're all just worried, that's all. Dale says you've been here for hours."

"And so?" the man seemed genuinely confused, looking around to take note of the worried and frightened faces of the rest of the group.

"Why are you digging? Are you heading to China, Jim?" Shane tried to lighten the mood, ignoring the clear signs of stress in the man in front of him.

Jim raised his arms, smiling sarcastically. "What does it matter? I'm not hurting anyone," and he resumed digging.

"If not yourself, then, Jim, it's 37 degrees now. You can't go on like this," Delilah realized it was hotter than she thought, not imagining that October could become so hot even though it was normal to have high temperatures around this time where they were. Not this high, though.

Shane approached him, preventing the others from understanding what he was saying, and in no time, he had Jim pinned to the ground, forcing him to stop. "It's for your own good, Jim," he said.

Delilah took Carl away from the scene, not wanting him to witness such acts of violence not so much for fear that he would get strange ideas, but because she knew how much he cared about and admired Shane; she didn't want to ruin his vision of him. She ignored his complaints, assuring him that Shane was more than capable of handling the situation on his own.

But Delilah knew she couldn't protect Carl forever, especially since that same evening the first attack would reduce the group and bring death into their existence.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Delilah watched her father talk into the walkie-talkie while looking out at the city of Atlanta from a distance, lost in his conversation with someone she had no idea about. It still felt strange to her, surreal even, that her father was there with them and not in a hospital turned into one of those walking dead.

It was a miracle.

But the peace after the previous night's attack had been shattered. The now smaller and frightened group no longer felt safe in the woods and intended to move towards the CDC in the hope of finding some answers.

She watched Carl and Sophia reluctantly say goodbye to Eliza and Louis, the only other children in the group, before heading down a different path, most likely never to see them again.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?" Rick put an arm around his daughter's shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug as they watched the same scene. "I promise you, everything will be fine. I swear."

But Delilah didn't know if she could believe that. She had learned more than once since the beginning of this new world that things wouldn't always go the right way, yet a part of her wanted to believe it. She rested her head on his shoulder, letting his gentle touches soothe her in the hope of dispelling the fears that formed in her mind every day.

"I want to believe you," she whispered, pulling away when she saw Shane approaching from a distance. She excused herself, moving away from the two men and joining Carl, who was now watching Jim with an expression of distrust.

She couldn't blame him. It had only been a few hours since they discovered he had been bitten, and the idea that he might turn into one of those things made everyone tense, scared that something like last night's incident could happen again. "Hey, little man."

Carl barely turned, his gaze still fixed on the man tied up under the tree. "Want to help me finish putting away the stuff? I need your strong arms to move all that gear, or I'll be here until tomorrow."

She tried to lighten the mood with humor. It was hard to put on a smile that wasn't genuine, but she did it for Carl, for his safety.

The boy nodded slowly, walking towards the last tent that needed to be packed up, and Delilah followed shortly after, closing it all up and loading it into Dale's RV for the journey.

She took one last look at the breathtaking view they were leaving behind, hating the fact that such tranquility was a result of the world's end and not just a simple family trip. She climbed into the RV with the others, silently complaining about the fact that they had brought Jim along in the hope of finding a cure at the CDC.

Dale glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he drove, feeling pity for the girl's lack of liveliness. He had gotten to know her a bit during those weeks they had spent together and found her to be a bright girl, perhaps too bright for her own good, and in a normal life, she could have been very successful with that sharp mind.

He sighed, seeing the light in her eyes dimmed, knowing there was nothing that could restore it. In this world, you had to learn to survive, or you perished.

"Damn," Dale exclaimed as he saw smoke billowing from the RV's hood, pulling over in the middle of the road to check if the damage was severe. "This old clunker won't last much longer."

It took Delilah a moment to realize they had stopped. With her eyes closed, she'd been trying to block out Jim's agonized groans from the back, where he was starting to lose his mind.

She leaned forward to look out the window, noticing the entire group had halted. Rick was next to Dale, inspecting under the RV's hood. He gave his daughter a reassuring nod before returning to his conversation with Dale.

She settled back into her seat, trying to get some sleep. She had no idea how long they'd be stopped or on the road, what awaited them at the CDC, and certainly didn't want to face it with only a few hours of rest. It was hard to get a good night's sleep under their conditions, but inside the RV, she felt somewhat safe, if not for Jim.

She growled in frustration when she couldn't relax, the man's presence too overwhelming. She opened her eyes when she felt movement, the RV rocking slightly, and soon after saw her father making his way inside.

"Everything okay?" she asked, watching him head toward where Jim lay, drenched in sweat and his face twisted in agony. She went silent, pressing herself against the seat to overhear their conversation.

Rick stood by the bed. "We'll be back on the road soon, don't worry."

"Oh, Christ. No," Jim moaned. "My bones… my bones are like glass, every little bump…. God, this trip is killing me. Leave me here. I'm done." He looked at Rick, resigned to his horrible situation. "Leave me here."

His request stunned the entire group, making the rest of the journey solemn as they lost another member. Delilah watched through the window as Jim's figure under a tree grew smaller. She closed her eyes when she saw him put the gun barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger.

Delilah woke up when she subconsciously felt the RV stop, realizing they were in front of what she assumed was the CDC.

"Are we here?" she asked, stretching, her muscles stiff from the position she had slept in all day. Dale nodded and got out, grabbing his rifle and waiting for everyone to disembark before closing the door. "Wow."

The entire group paused to take in the scene before them; abandoned military vehicles were everywhere, barricades at every corner, but the most disturbing sight was the hundreds of bodies scattered across the area. They were careful not to touch them, unsure if they were truly dead or the walking dead.

The putrid stench of the corpses made Delilah gag, forcing her to turn away from the group and vomit the little food she had eaten. She felt the acidity of her stomach in her throat and was grateful when someone placed a hand on her back and handed her a bottle of water, until she saw who it was.

"Alright, keep moving, let's go!" Shane ordered quietly, understanding that the less attention they attracted, the better. Delilah cringed as she felt his hand still on her back. "Thanks," she muttered, handing back the bottle and shrugging off his hand.

She quickened her pace to rejoin the group, ignoring Shane’s intense gaze boring into the back of her head. Carl reached out his hand to his sister, and she took it, squeezing tightly, not wanting to be separated again.

It felt like navigating a minefield. Glenn pointed out a few walkers with his rifle, who were wandering aimlessly instead of lying still. Carl’s grip tightened painfully on her hand, making her wince slightly from the pain.

The odor grew more pungent, and Delilah had to cover her nose with her arm, like many others in the group. When they finally reached the CDC, they found the shutters closed, the place seemingly barricaded from the inside. The faint glimmer of hope within each of them began to fade.

“Walkers!” Daryl shouted, rushing forward and firing his crossbow. Glenn and Dale joined in, trying to protect the group as they desperately searched for a way in. “You led us to a graveyard!”

“He made a decision,” Lori said, letting go of Carl’s hand and moving closer to Rick.

Daryl snarled, “A bad decision! Look around, damn it!”

“Shut up. You hear me?” Shane snapped, getting in Daryl’s face and escalating the situation. They started shoving each other, making enough noise to attract even more walkers.

Rick tried to calm things down, but even Shane seemed to lose his patience. He argued that they were at a dead end and if they stayed there any longer, they’d all be dead. Suddenly, the shutters began to move.

The group fell silent, watching hopefully as the shutters slowly rose just enough to let them pass through. A voice crackled through the speakers.

“Get inside! Quickly!”

The faint hope that had almost vanished suddenly returned. Delilah squeezed Carl’s hand tighter, almost pulling him along as they ran towards the entrance. Once inside, the shutters closed behind them with a definitive clang, shutting out the chaos and the walkers.

Rick led the group down a dimly lit hallway until they reached a large metal door that slowly opened, revealing a tired but kind-looking man in a lab coat.

“Welcome to the CDC. I’m Dr. Edwin Jenner,” he said, his voice weary but welcoming. “You got here just in time.”

The group exchanged uncertain but relieved looks. Delilah felt a semblance of safety for the first time in ages, hoping they had finally found a place to rest and, maybe, some answers.

Rick stepped forward. “Thank you for letting us in. We didn’t know how much longer we could hold out out there.”

Jenner nodded, his eyes scanning the tired and worn faces before him. “We’ll do our best to help you. But you need to understand... there aren’t many answers here. Just attempts and hopes.”

Delilah, still holding Carl’s hand, knew those words held the harsh truth of their new world. However, even a glimmer of hope was better than the complete darkness they had been facing.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

She had no idea how long she had stood under the hot water, but she couldn’t bring herself to step away from the soothing sensation she had missed so much. When she finally emerged from the shower, wrapped in a bathrobe, it felt like she was in a dream.

The room had a single bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and finally, some privacy. If it weren’t for the barricaded window, it might have felt like a hotel room.

As she started getting dressed, a knock on the door startled her. “I’ll be right there!” she called out, quickly pulling on some clean clothes. She hurried to the door and was surprised to see Dr. Jenner standing there, gloves on and a kit in hand.

“May I come in?” he asked, stepping inside and setting the kit on the desk. He looked at her for a moment. “Please, take a seat. I need to draw some blood.”

Delilah sat down and extended her arm. Goosebumps rose on her skin as he took her wrist and gently straightened her arm. “Why? None of us have been bitten or sick.”

“It’s protocol. I’ve already drawn samples from your family. Nothing to worry about,” he said. He didn’t smile or offer any reassurance, but his straightforwardness brought her a sense of comfort.

She nodded, watching him tie a tourniquet around her bicep. Curiosity got the better of her. “Where are all the other doctors? Shouldn’t this place be full?”

Jenner glanced up for a second before returning to his task. “I’m the only one left.”

“How did they die?”

Jenner paused, swallowing hard. “Various reasons, but there wasn’t an attack here at the CDC.”

Delilah felt a chill despite the warmth of the room. “So, why did they leave?”

“Some left to be with their families. Others... gave up.” He didn’t elaborate, but the weight of his words hung in the air.

“Gave up?”

“Losing hope in a place like this can be worse than the infection itself,” he admitted quietly, focusing on drawing her blood. “When you’re faced with the end of the world, not everyone can keep going.”

Delilah looked at Jenner, seeing the exhaustion etched into his features. “How do you keep going?”

He didn’t answer immediately, finishing up and placing a bandage on her arm. “I keep going because I have to. Because if I don’t, then all those people who gave up did so for nothing.”

She watched as he packed up his kit. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Jenner nodded, pausing at the door. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

As he left, Delilah felt the weight of his words settle over her. She lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The world outside was falling apart, but in here, they had a chance. It wasn’t much, but it was something to hold onto.

She decided to join the group in the cafeteria, smiling at the sight of such a peaceful, almost normal scene. "Have you been here for long?" she asked, noticing Glenn struggling to contain his laughter and maintain a serious demeanor.

The boy handed her a glass of red wine, and Delilah thanked him, wetting her lips with the intense red liquid. "Can I try?" She almost spat out the wine when she heard Carl's question, and after briefly glancing at her mother, she passed him the glass.

The table fell silent as everyone watched the boy take a sip of the wine, grimacing in disgust as soon as the liquid touched his tongue. They all burst into laughter, and Delilah hugged her little brother, tousling his hair. "You're a big boy now."

"Come on! Leave me alone," Carl tried to squirm out of her grasp, but she didn't let him go.

The two siblings began to playfully wrestle, ending up on the floor with Delilah on top of Carl, pinning his limbs and tickling him. The boy turned red from laughter and the effort of trying to flip his sister over, but to no avail.

"I surrender! I surrender!" Carl shouted, waving the white flag, and Delilah got up, giving him a hand to stand. When the group started applauding, she took a bow before sitting down again to fill her stomach that she had emptied earlier.

During dinner, as it started to get late, the group began to disperse to retire to their rooms for a good night's sleep. Carol took the opportunity to take Sophia and Carl to a room resembling a library to read them a book before bedtime.

Even Rick and Jenner stepped away from the banquet to discuss what Delilah presumed was their overnight arrangements. When her mother left to follow Carol, she frowned upon seeing Shane, a little tipsy, following shortly after.

She started to get up, but Glenn's hand pulled her back into her seat, making her smile at his tipsy appearance. A faint smile was present on his features, his head slightly tilted to the side, the bottle of red wine in his hand.

"Stay here," he slurred.

Daryl, on the other side of the table, chuckled, catching Delilah's attention as she turned, unaware of his presence. She thought she was alone with the Asian boy. "Good luck with that," he said.

"What do you mean by that?" Both struggled to understand what he was saying, as alcohol muddled his words and made it nearly impossible to comprehend. Delilah chuckled, getting up and offering him an arm. "Let's go, Glenn, let's get you to your room."

"Oh, and then you'll stay with me?" The suggestive comment made Delilah pause in her tracks, supporting him with one arm and giving him a light smack on the back of his head. "Ow!"

"You're drunk, Glenn, watch what you say," she scolded, pulling him away from the wall he had leaned on.

The boy followed her, leaning on her for support when his head spun too much. In no time, they found themselves in front of his quarters, a few doors down from hers. “Where’s your key?”

“Uh…” The boy let go of her arm and began patting his pants pockets until he found it, smiling and holding the keys up to her eyes. “Ta-da!”

Glen struggled to insert the key into the door, his hand wavering left and right due to his state. The girl had to stifle her laughter when she had to catch him as he leaned against the open door.

“You’re really wasted,” she said, struggling to carry him to the bed and throwing him onto it with all the strength she could muster. She turned to leave, feeling the alcohol she had drunk beginning to get to her. “Goodnight, Glenn.”

“Wait,” he tried to sit up but sank back down when dizziness overcame him. “Stay, please?”

Delilah turned to look at him, searching his eyes for any sign of malice, but saw only a boy around her age, alone and scared. She closed the door and sat beside him, gently stroking his shoulder. “Are you okay, Glenn?”

The boy slid to the floor, leaning against the mattress, and Delilah followed, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. The atmosphere between them had shifted dramatically; the lightheartedness and carefree attitude from a few minutes ago had been replaced by the heavy weight of their reality.

“I don’t know…how to feel,” Glenn said, staring at the wall in front of them. “I can’t stop wondering how my family is, if they’re okay. If they’re alive.”

Delilah didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t the best at comforting others, especially someone she didn’t have a close bond with. She rested her head against his, hoping the silence wouldn’t be too oppressive for him.

“Everything will be alright, Glenn, I promise,” she said. But what Delilah didn’t know was that not everything would be alright. They would face many obstacles on their journey, and not all of them would leave them unscathed.

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Another Day

Delilah watched the countryside roll by through the camper window, her head occasionally bumping against the glass due to the road's bumps. No one dared to speak during the journey, each of them a little more disappointed than the other about being back on the road.

She had been right to distrust the doctor; the man had decided to blow himself up along with the CDC due to his lost hope. Perhaps the silence was tied to that—the realization that there was no way to return to their old lives was finally sinking into their minds.

Daryl passed them on his motorcycle and she glanced in the rearview mirror to see the car behind them, feeling a pang in her heart as she saw her family laughing and smiling. She felt misplaced, somewhat guilty, for not being able to find anything good in their situation.

It might have been a selfish thought, but not even the idea of still having her family consoled her because, in the end, each of them was dead.

She sighed and looked back at the road ahead, straightening in her seat when she saw the beginning of a highway blocked by several cars. "What the hell..."

Glenn stood up and took a seat between her and Dale in the front, trying to hear what Daryl had to say once he returned on his motorcycle.

"Can we get through?" Dale asked, turning off the engine, but the man just shook his head before moving on to the car behind them.

Glenn grabbed a map, checking their location. "Maybe we should turn back; there's still time. There's a bypass—"

"We can't waste fuel. It's already a miracle this thing is still running," Dale said, cautiously driving through the traffic, trying not to touch the abandoned cars. Delilah stared in shock at the scene ahead of them; the line of cars stretched as far as she could see.

"All these people..." she commented as they passed a car with a corpse inside. "It's strange they left everything here."

"These cars have probably been here since the beginning, maybe a few months. You can't blame them for trying to escape the city; they must have wanted to reach relatives or some safe place."

"Damn," Glenn said, the further they went, the worse the condition of the cars became. Many were wrecked, windows and doors shattered, some overturned or off the road, and Delilah couldn't help but agree with him.

"Can we get through there?" Dale squinted at the cars ahead. Daryl stopped and shook his head, indicating they couldn't pass between the cars, and, as luck would have it, the engine started smoking again. "Damn it!"

Everyone sighed, stopped again by not one but two obstacles. Dale turned off the camper, and Delilah took the opportunity to get out and get some air. The sun provided a bit of warmth now that the days were starting to get shorter and colder. Yet it still seemed too hot for the end of October.

Her mother came up behind her, placing a hand on her arm. "What's going on?"

"The reactor is smoking again, and we can't get through," she replied, pulling away from her, ignoring the hurt expression on her mother's face. Instead, she took the opportunity to go to Carl and greeted him with a kiss on the head. "God, you stink."

"Hey!" the boy exclaimed, pulling away and trying to hide a laugh. "Not like you smell like roses."

Delilah stuck her tongue out at him before running off. Carl, pretending to be offended, started chasing her. They ran around until Rick called them back. "Carl, stay with your sister. Got it? And Delilah, keep an eye on him while you look for useful things in the cars. Don't wander too far, okay?"

Both nodded, and Delilah grabbed Carl by the shoulder, pulling him close. Rick took the opportunity to hug them. "I love you guys."

"We love you too," Carl replied before grabbing his sister's wrist and dragging her toward one of the cars. "Come on, Lilah! Let's go." 

"Take it easy, no one's chasing us, Carl," Delilah sighed, rolling her eyes before starting to check the car next to the one Carl was inspecting. They found nothing useful in the first few cars, so they moved on to check the next ones. While Carl rejoiced at finding some snacks, Delilah discovered something she would treasure.

She pulled out a dagger with a black handle and a gleaming blade from under a pillowcase, examining her reflection on its surface. She tied the sheath to her leg and slid the blade inside, keeping it close to her.

Delilah stood up and exited the car. When she turned to look for the rest of the group, she was puzzled to see her father with his rifle raised towards them and Dale on top of the camper with binoculars.

A chill ran down her spine as her father motioned for them to come closer. She slowly turned around, her face paling when she saw a horde of walkers just a few meters away. "Carl!"

She crouched and whispered to Carl, who was a few steps away from her. The boy turned to her, confused. Delilah gestured with her head towards the direction of the horde and brought a finger to her lips to indicate silence.

Carl, crouching as well, moved closer to Delilah, who took his hand and began to guide him towards their father. When they reached him, he pointed to a car. "Get under there and stay quiet."

Delilah dragged a trembling Carl under the car with her, covering his mouth when he started to hyperventilate. She tried to calm him, assuring him that everything would be alright while observing their surroundings. She managed to spot her mother with Carol under a car a few meters away and Sophia alone under the car next to them.

The horde slowly reached them, and Delilah had to cover her nose against the putrid smell emanating from the decaying bodies. Nausea rose in her throat, but she forced herself to swallow it down and remain silent.

Carl moved closer to her, burying his face in her jacket and stifling his sobs.

Sophia began to panic, which in turn worried Carol. Unfortunately, luck was not on their side, and Sophia's whimpers caught the attention of one of the passing walkers.

Very slowly, the walker bent down, almost collapsing onto the pavement under the weight of its decomposing body. Sophia screamed in terror and scrambled out from under the car. Delilah couldn't see where she went, but her heart pounded as the walker turned its head towards them, likely drawn by their scent.

"Go, go!" she pushed Carl to the side. The growls of the walker grew louder as it spotted the girl, baring its broken teeth and decayed flesh.

Delilah dodged, trying to avoid the long fingers reaching for her. She drew the dagger she had found earlier, driving it into the walker's head with all the strength she could muster. The blade sank into its skull with a sickening crunch, splattering blood everywhere, including on Delilah's face.

She stood still for a moment, in shock, as she stared at the now truly dead body. "Delilah!"

Her father's voice reached her ears muffled, and a pair of hands grabbed her arm. As if waking up, she began to struggle. "It's okay, it's okay."

She got to her feet, still shaken, until someone wiped her face with a cloth. "It's okay..."

Her mother's voice calmed her, and she allowed herself to be enveloped in her arms. Her heart slowly returned to its normal pace. Once she was calm, she turned, looking around for her father.

"Where's Dad?" she asked.

"He went after Sophia, everything's fine."

"Stop saying everything's fine! It's. Not. Fine!" Delilah enunciated each word with anger, and the rest of the group gathered near them. "Stop repeating it, face reality, Mom! It’s driving me crazy every day, this belief that everything will be okay. Just look around! There's nothing left, nothing. Nada."

Lori stared at her, mouth open, shaking her head. "Delilah, don't—"

"Don't say this, don't do that, don't go here, don't go there. Enough! I'm sick of this air of authority!" Delilah's voice rose, uncaring if any walkers were still around. "You haven't acted like a mother for years, and now? Now you think you can tell me what to do or how to behave? What to say?"

"Don't talk to your mother like that," Shane marched towards her, positioning himself between her and her mother, his look sending chills down the young woman's spine, but she kept her head high. "And you stop trying to be a father. Carl and I already have one."

Delilah's venomous comment sparked something in him; she saw a switch flip in his eyes and wondered if she had gone too far. She swallowed, waiting for a response, but none came. She stepped out of the spotlight, retrieving her dagger from the skull of the walker she had just killed.

She remained inside the RV for hours, watching the rest of the group move the cars to make space for the camper. She felt immature, like a child, treating everyone with the silent treatment, but it seemed the only way to calm her anger.

As the sun slowly set, Carol began to panic more than before, nervously checking the direction her daughter had run off in. But when Rick and Daryl returned empty-handed, all Delilah could hear were her cries.

She felt pity for the woman; from what little she had seen and guessed, Carol didn't come from a happy marriage, and now Sophia had vanished into a forest filled with creatures that wanted nothing more than to sink their teeth into her skin, tearing her apart to devour her.

What a macabre new reality it was, something Delilah never expected to live through, only to read about in apocalyptic novels. Footsteps approached the RV, causing the girl to straighten, expecting someone to scold her for the scene she had made with her mother a few hours earlier. But it was her father who appeared at the doorway.

The man enveloped her in a hug, and she had to hold her breath; blood and sweat, a pungent odor. She hugged him back. “Thank God you’re safe.

The night was strangely silent. Delilah decided to position herself on the roof of the RV, using the excuse of checking the perimeter in case of another horde. The truth, however, was different. She needed time to think, to understand if it was possible that there were others like them or if their fate was sealed.

"Your head's smoking worse than the RV's reactor, kid," Dale said, taking a seat next to her, rifle in hand. "Is it about your mother?"

Delilah shook her head, lowering it to look at her hands. "No, I don't waste time on that."

The man smiled. "Well, you actually have a lot of free time," he commented, eliciting a smile from the girl. "But really, Delilah, what's bothering you?"

"Do you think we're alone?" she turned to him. "Is there anyone else out there like us, someone who wants to live, not just die out of fear of trying?"

The question seemed to confuse the old man for a moment. "Of course, there are a lot of people in the world. Someone else must be out there, but you have to be the first to want to live. Otherwise, how do you expect to move forward?" He smiled gently at her. "I try to see the world through your eyes, a teenager whose normalcy was ripped away, bringing pain, death, and suffering prematurely. It's something no one should ever face, but to live, you have to make a difference now. And you, Delilah, are you willing to make a difference?"

Dale didn't know it yet, but looking into the girl's eyes, he would see that in the not-too-distant future, she would indeed be part of a great change. He would never find out, and one day, Delilah would be grateful, knowing that the old man's opinion of her and her actions would not have been positive.

"No, I don't want to make a difference. I just want to live in peace, to have the security of not dying tomorrow..." her voice was barely louder than a whisper as she looked back up at the star-filled sky, smiling at its clarity.

When she was in school, she hadn't believed her science teacher when he told her that the skies were polluted by the amount of light and electricity, but at that moment, under the stars, she couldn't help but agree.

Delilah pointed at the sky. "That's Orion, probably the most famous constellation in the world."

"Do you like the stars?"

"No," Dale laughed at her immediate response. "But Carl does. I don't know why. He watched Star Wars once, and from that day on, he started studying every constellation in the sky. I don't know the reason, but even now, he points them out to me when he can't sleep at night."

"He's a good boy, Carl. Very bright, like you." Delilah blushed at the veiled compliment. "It's a shame he has to grow up in this cruel world. If growing up was difficult before, now it will be much harder. He'll be exposed to cruelty and violence; it's a pity to ruin a soul as pure as a child's..."

The truth was painful, raw, and yet Delilah couldn't help but nod at the old man's words; Carl would grow up differently from her, deprived of the beautiful teenage experiences and everything that comes with youth.

The peace and serenity of the night slowly lulled Delilah into the world of dreams, protecting her for a few hours from the grotesque new life that awaited her in the coming months, promising her a few hours of normality.

But that peace was interrupted the next morning when the first rays of sun touched her face, waking her slowly. Muffled voices, still dulled by sleep, caught her attention, and she tried to wake up to understand what they were saying.

Unable to catch much, she decided to climb down from her perch on top of the RV, finding the entire group a few meters away. "What's happening?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"We're going to look for Sophia. We're splitting into two groups. Shane and I will head east, while the rest of the group goes west. This way, we can cover as much territory as possible and have a better chance of finding her," Rick explained, his words punctuated by a sob from Carol, who wrapped her arms around herself, desperate.

Dale stepped forward, his expression serious. "I'm not leaving my RV here."

Delilah looked at Dale and then at her father. "I don't want to go into the woods. It's full of those things and insects. I'll stay here with Dale."

"Delilah, it would be better if we didn't separate too much," Rick approached his daughter, concerned. "Please, don't make this more complicated than it already is."

Delilah knew the chances of the girl still being alive were slim; surviving the night alone would have been difficult. But it seemed like the only way to convince her father to let her stay.

She saw the conflicted expression on her father's face twist into a grimace. He shook his head until Dale approached, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on her, I promise."

Rick stared at Dale intently before sighing and nodding reluctantly. "Okay. Fine, be careful, alright?" He gave Delilah a hug before heading off with the rest of the group towards the woods beside the highway. Carl waved at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh.

Once the group disappeared from sight, Delilah turned on her heel, walking towards the direction of cars they hadn't yet inspected. Dale's voice stopped her. "Where are you going? Don't make me break the promise I made to your father, kid."

"I'm looking for something useful. I won't go far, I swear. And if we find some medicine for him," she pointed to T-Dog leaning against the RV, his bandaged and bleeding forearm, "it would be better. We both know it will get infected very soon."

"Very reassuring," the man chuckled, hiding a grimace of pain. The wound was already getting infected, and at this rate, it would be nearly impossible to stop it before it spread through his system.

"Be careful!" he shouted, and she, already on her way, raised a thumb in acknowledgment.

The cars had already been scavenged by someone in the early days of the apocalypse, Delilah thought. Many were empty or destroyed, showing signs that someone had left their mark. Despite the initial bad luck, she managed to find something relatively useful, more for entertainment than necessity.

She emptied a black backpack she found in one of the cars, filling it with comic books for Carl and melee weapons like daggers, Swiss army knives, and tools that could be useful for Dale and his RV.

She also grabbed some canteens, rejoicing when they were still full of water. She didn't care if the water was warm or had a strange taste, indicating it had been there for a while. Water was water, and ever since they left the quarry, they often risked running out of potable water.

One car in particular caught her attention, a black SUV almost entirely intact, unlike the cars around it. Curious, she approached it, cautious and alert when she heard a strange noise coming from inside the vehicle.

She drew her dagger, ready to kill a walker if necessary, but a whimper made her lower the weapon. She checked the interior of the SUV, the passenger door open, and found no corpses. What struck her instead was what she saw on the driver's side, busy devouring a packet of what she recognized as chips.

"Shit, I can't believe it," Delilah laughed, catching the attention of Dale a few meters away, also searching for supplies in the cars. Curious about what had surprised the girl so much, he approached her.

"Everything okay?" When he reached her, he saw her half inside an SUV, reaching for something. He raised an eyebrow when he heard a high-pitched whimper, something the girl certainly couldn’t have made.

Delilah emerged from the SUV, holding a puppy that looked like a Doberman. The pup squirmed in her arms, trying to bite her hands in vain as she held it up in front of Dale.

The man smiled in surprise. "Oh my god, look at that. And what are you doing here, huh?"

"I'm keeping it," Delilah said, ignoring the man's changing expression. She looked him straight in the eyes. "Yes, I know it's a commitment. But Mom and Dad never got me a dog when I was little, and besides, it could be useful, don't you think? We can train it to help us, like a guard or for hunting."

Dale seemed to weigh her words carefully before speaking. "That's not what I meant, Delilah, but I think we can't afford another mouth to feed. And if it starts barking when there are walkers around, it could cause trouble."

"I'll take care of that, and the food. Don't worry." He couldn't bring himself to tell her it was a bad idea again, to scold her for being an extra burden on the group, because he had never seen the smile she now had on her lips.

She looked like a normal teenager again, carefree, as she gazed dreamily at the puppy as if her life depended on it. "Hmm, alright. But it's your responsibility."

Delilah kept smiling. "Even if you had said no, I would have kept it anyway, but I appreciate it."

The puppy quickly adapted to the girl's presence. After a few hours, it began to follow her like a duckling, curious about every place she inspected. She was grateful for its innate loyalty, as she hadn't found anything resembling a leash and losing it would have hurt more than helped.

Luck seemed to be on her side that day. She managed to find not only dog food but also human food, although it would need something to cook it with.

"I found some pasta, a lot of it, in one of the cars down there," Delilah emptied the backpack onto the hood of a car next to the RV, showing the loot to her two companions. "I didn't find any medicine for you, T-Dog, just some Tylenol, but I don’t know how much that will help..."

T-Dog's condition seemed to worsen by the hour. The heat, stress, hunger, and thirst certainly weren't helping his mental state, and he was starting to delirious. It appeared that T-Dog wasn't a fan of their new companion, creating a comical scene when the curious puppy approached him, only for T-Dog to shoo it away with a bark.

The puppy looked confused, then trotted back to sit next to Delilah.

Delilah petted the puppy, trying to hide her worry about T-Dog. "We really need to find some proper medicine for him," she said softly to Dale.

Dale nodded, his expression serious. "I know. But we've already searched most of the nearby cars. We might need to go further out."

"Maybe Rick and the others will find something when they come back," Delilah suggested, though she didn't sound very hopeful.

"Let's hope so," Dale replied. "In the meantime, we'll do our best to keep him comfortable and hydrated."

Delilah continued to comfort the puppy, who was now nuzzling against her leg. "I think I'll name you Orion," she said, looking down at the little dog. "Since we found you under the stars."

Dale smiled at that. "Orion, huh? That's a good name."

As the day wore on, Delilah and Dale did what they could to care for T-Dog and the puppy, while keeping an eye out for any threats. The small moments of normalcy, like naming the puppy, helped them keep their spirits up in the midst of their dire situation. But the weight of their reality was never far from their minds, and they knew that every decision they made could mean the difference between life and death.

"Can we really trust this? I mean, a woman on horseback comes rushing up to us, giving directions to a farm where the rest of the group supposedly settled. Does that seem odd to anyone else?" Andrea cast a skeptical glance at the puppy nestled in Delilah's arms, incredulous about their new companion. "And a dog? Seriously?"

"What the hell do you want?" Delilah shot back, holding the sleeping puppy tightly, unaffected by the bumps in the country road. Her temper had worsened upon hearing that her little brother was in critical condition with a bullet wound in his stomach.

Throughout the ride, Delilah couldn't stop her leg from trembling or keep herself from biting her cuticles, nervous and anxious about Carl's situation. Was it intentional? What had happened? But the worst thought that crossed her mind was one.

Had it been Shane?

The woman on horseback hadn't explained much, only that her parents were at her farm, and her father, apparently a doctor, was taking care of Carl. Delilah hated to admit it, but she had to agree with Andrea that everything seemed too strange.

Dale, sitting in the driver's seat, glanced at the two women in the rearview mirror. "I understand your concern, Andrea. But we don't have many options right now. If Carl's in danger, we need to get to that farm and make sure he's alright."

Andrea folded her arms, clearly unconvinced. "I just don't like it. What if it's a trap?"

"Then we'll deal with it," Dale replied, trying to sound reassuring. "But we can't ignore the possibility that Carl needs our help. And if this farm is as safe as she says, it could be a good place for all of us."

Delilah stayed silent, stroking the puppy's fur absentmindedly. The prospect of her brother being in danger overshadowed any doubts she had about the farm. She wanted to believe that this woman was telling the truth, that her brother was getting the care he needed.

As they continued down the bumpy road, Delilah couldn't shake her anxiety. Every bump and jolt seemed to echo the turmoil in her mind. She kept replaying the events in her head, trying to piece together what had happened and how they had ended up in this situation.

Finally, the farmhouse came into view, a large, welcoming structure surrounded by fields and a few scattered outbuildings. Delilah's heart pounded in her chest as they pulled up to the main house.

"Sembra troppo bello per essere vero," commented Glenn as he walked alongside Delilah toward the porch where the woman on horseback was waiting for them on a chair.

"I agree. How have they managed to live so well for these months? How can you tell me no one has stumbled upon this paradise?" Delilah called the puppy back after it did its business, its uncoordinated steps following her closely.

Glenn laughed when the puppy reached them, looking up at its new owner with large, round eyes. "He adores you, it's incredible."

"Let's hope so, that way he won't think about running off one day."

They walked in silence along the long driveway until they reached the porch. "Did you close the gate on the road when you came in?"

"Yes," Delilah replied. "Do you have a rope or something I could use to tie the dog outside?"

She didn't want to be rude by bringing the puppy inside the house. They needed to be cautious in this unfamiliar territory. The woman, who seemed a few years older than Delilah, nodded and went inside, returning shortly with an actual collar and leash. "Thanks."

Delilah ignored the puppy's whines as she put the slightly too-large collar on it and tied it to the railing. She took its muzzle in her hands, giving it a kiss on the nose. "I'll be right back, okay? Wait here."

She didn't stay to listen to the conversation between Glenn and the woman, instead entering the house to find someone who could tell her where the rest of her family was. Anxiety gnawed at her insides, fearing it might be too late and that Carl's life had been cut too short.

But from one of the doors emerged an older man with white hair and a beard. He looked her up and down, his hands stained with blood and a rag slung over his shoulder, which he used to wipe his hands. "You must be Delilah. Your parents and brother are in that room," he said, nodding toward an open door with a soft light spilling out. "He's out of immediate danger, for now. My boy and one of your group went to get some things I need to perform surgery on Carl. The bullet shattered, and I need to remove all the fragments before they cause a hemorrhage."

Delilah felt a wave of relief wash over her, but it was tempered by the knowledge that Carl wasn't out of the woods yet. She rushed to the indicated room, her heart pounding in her chest. Inside, she found her parents, Lori and Rick, standing by Carl's side. Her brother lay unconscious, pale but breathing.

"Mom, Dad," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Lori turned and embraced her tightly. "He's stable for now, Delilah. We just have to wait for Hershel to get what he needs to finish the surgery."

Rick placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll get through this. Carl's strong."

Delilah nodded, trying to hold back her tears. She took Carl's hand, feeling the warmth of his skin, and silently vowed that they would make it through this together.

That night passed more slowly than expected, and in a somewhat selfish gesture, Delilah decided not to spend too much time in the room where Carl was resting, terrified at the thought of watching him die before her eyes.

She chose to spend the night outside on the porch, wrapped in her red leather jacket and stroking Orion's short fur as he lay beside her, quickly falling asleep. A young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, was kind enough to bring her a low glass vase with some water for the puppy.

Delilah stayed awake, staring at the wooden wall in front of her as if it could get up and run away. She didn't know what to think; by now, almost everyone had gone to sleep, and Delilah was left alone with her thoughts until the door opened, letting the woman from earlier step out.

She took a seat on the rocking chair opposite Delilah, watching her closely. Pulling her knees to her chest, Delilah rested her chin on them. "Carl had a seizure, but he's okay now," the woman said.

Delilah looked up, finally acknowledging the woman's presence. She nodded almost apathetically at the news. She wanted to react, to cry or scream, but no emotion seemed to come out of her. It was as if she had become an empty shell of emotions in just a few hours. The sensation of emptiness, as if she no longer had a heart, grew stronger with each stroke of bad luck.

"I'm Maggie, by the way."

"Delilah."

The two girls fell into silence, simply keeping each other company during that night that seemed to last forever. The silence didn't become heavy as the hours passed; instead, it became an escape from all their problems.

"Do you believe in God?" Delilah suddenly asked, not taking her eyes off Orion, making Maggie think she had imagined it. But when she looked up at her, waiting for an answer, she realized that the question had indeed come from her mouth.

Maggie thought for a moment before responding, "No, I used to, though. Before... all of this. Going to church was the norm for my family, but now? Pff, now God doesn't exist."

Delilah chuckled. "True. If God existed, I'd let myself get killed just to go up there and kick him in the ass for bringing this destruction upon the earth."

The two girls laughed. "Don't let my dad hear you; he'd have a heart attack if he heard what you just said."

"I'll keep that in mind," Delilah pretended to lock her lips shut with an imaginary key.

Maggie sighed, shivering in the cold breeze that began to blow. "Then, if I'm being honest, I believe that in this situation, we have to seek justice ourselves, not pray to God."

Delilah nodded, agreeing with the woman. She found her company pleasant, a breath of fresh air amidst the chaos they found themselves in; an absurd thought crossed her mind, she thought, but for a moment, she doubted the nonexistence of God because just the night before she had wondered if anyone else could be alive in that apocalypse.

However, if God existed, Carl wouldn't be fighting for his life.

Her attention was drawn away by the sound of an engine behind her, and even Maggie stood up, confused as to who it could be, but her expression changed drastically when she saw a blue pickup truck pull up in front of the house.

Delilah stood up, recognizing Shane's face, and a question immediately formed in her mind. Where was his companion?

Rick, Lori, and Hershel hurried out of the house, reaching the man and enveloping him in a warm embrace. But the look on Shane's face sent shivers down the girl's spine. Something wasn't right.

"Carl?" he asked, passing the backpacks she carried on her shoulders to Hershel, who hurriedly took them inside.

"There's still hope," Rick reassured him, weakened by the continuous blood transfusions. Hershel paused, as if noticing something, and turned to Shane, his expression worried. "And Otis?"

Shane shook his head, lowering his gaze. "No... he sacrificed himself. We were surrounded. He told me to run, to save Carl."

Hershel, though somewhat shocked, nodded. "Don't tell Patricia. Not yet. I need her." He went inside, closing the door behind him, leaving the group reunited. Now his main concern was to save Carl.

To say Delilah was worried in the following days would be an understatement. Since Shane’s return, the atmosphere had grown tense. The search for Sophia was still ongoing, and the constant missions into the city to scavenge for useful items like medicine kept her exceedingly busy.

Orion was an excellent companion. Despite being just a puppy, he quickly learned basic commands and, strangely, hadn’t barked even once. Delilah made a mental note to keep her dog away from Shane; the man seemed to have changed drastically in just a few days, and the looks he gave her when they were close made her feel uneasy.

She felt in danger.

Hershell had been kind enough to offer them shelter until they regained the strength to leave the farm. Carl was slowly recovering, allowing him to step outside and get some fresh air.

His reaction was priceless when he saw the puppy. "A puppy! Where did you find him? Can we keep him?"

Delilah felt a hollow pang in her stomach, seeing her little brother so enthusiastic when just days before, he had been on the brink of death, fighting between light and darkness. She smiled, patting Orion’s head. "Yes, he’s already ours, and his name is Orion."

Carl’s eyes lit up. "I knew you’d pick a good name."

Carl continued to cuddle the puppy, who was more than happy to receive all that attention. "I found him after you left. That night, I talked with Dale about your obsession with stars and the Orion constellation, so it seemed like a fitting name."

It was a recurring thought that she didn’t feel part of the group. She couldn’t find common ground with anyone except Carl, his father, and Dale. Not even with Glenn did she feel comfortable or accepted, especially now that he was following Hershell's daughter around like a lost puppy.

This made her feel like an outsider, behaving like one, and finding solace in an unexpected friendship. Beth had initially approached her with a request to see the puppy, then gathered the courage to ask for help with the chickens in the coop.

Initially, a bit taken aback, Delilah was cautious about why the girl had decided to ask her for help when, unlike the rest of her group, she hadn’t done much to contribute, barring the two times she went into town with Maggie to search for medicine. Eventually, Glenn took her place on these excursions.

Now, she and Beth spent hours in the garden or simply sitting on the porch talking. Beth was an intelligent girl, perhaps too kind and fragile for the harsh world outside the farm.

However, Beth had a major flaw—her intense pessimism.

"Don’t say that, Beth. Maybe the world has changed, but that’s no reason to stop living," Delilah reassured her, watching Carl and Orion play in the field. Beth had expressed a lack of will to live, contemplating death more than she should.

"What is there to live for, Lilah? You've seen what it’s like out there, better than I have. How can you say that death isn’t better than living now?"

The question caught her off guard; she had those thoughts herself. "Because you have people who care about you, who love you. The world is already cruel enough; there’s no need to add more burden to their shoulders, don’t you think?"

Beth shrugged, not answering her question. Delilah put an arm around her shoulders, inviting her to lean on her. Perhaps, if they stayed on this farm, everything would turn out fine; they could have a future worth living for.

However, her positive impression of the place changed drastically when, the next day, Glenn revealed to the group that dozens of walkers were hidden inside the barn. Everyone was having breakfast when he broke the news, and the entire group froze mid-motion, Delilah included, her mouth agape.

“You’re joking,” she responded incredulously, but seeing the disturbed expression on Glenn’s face, she knew it wasn’t a joke. It seemed too good to be true—a safe place, far from the world’s problems.

In no time, the group made their way to the large barn, with Orion sniffing the ground ahead of them. He stopped a few meters from the doors, standing still like a statue before returning to Delilah and sitting by her side. "Hey, what’s wrong?" she asked, kneeling to pet him. But what caught her attention were the barn doors beginning to shake.

The entire group took a few steps back. Delilah fell to the ground as the growls of the walkers and their hands clawing at the wooden doors made her pale. Deep down, she had hoped that Glenn had imagined it all—that it was a bad dream or a trick of his mind.

But in that moment, there was no doubt: the family was keeping the dead like animals.

Her thoughts raced as the group stood in shock. The reality of their situation was sinking in fast, stripping away any sense of safety they had felt. Delilah looked at Orion, who seemed to sense the danger too. She knew they couldn’t stay here any longer. This wasn’t a sanctuary—it was a ticking time bomb.

As the others began to discuss their next steps, Delilah’s mind was already made up. She needed to protect Carl and Orion. The bond she had with her brother and the silent understanding with her puppy gave her the strength to face the grim reality.

In a world turned upside down, every moment of peace was fleeting, and trust was a luxury they couldn’t afford. Delilah stood up, brushing the dirt from her clothes, and looked at the group. They needed a plan, and they needed it fast.

The third chapter on ao3 was sooo awesome!! Ricks daughter getting separated from them at the farm is such a cool idea and it’s gonna create so much conflict eventually when they meet again! Her thinking they abandoned her and everything! So so good.

I’m so curious about Rick and Delilah’s relationship, he and Carl were so close but we didn’t see much of her and Rick! It’s gonna be very interesting when we eventually get to Alexandria

Can’t wait to read more of this, really love it!

i love you anonymus! i really appreciate your support, especially since i wasn't sure about this story <3

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

No Heaven, Only Trouble

"We can’t do this!" Delilah dropped into a chair by the campfire. "As much as I find it disturbing, it's not our place, nor our decision to make."

The group fell into silence. Some agreed with the young girl, others did not. Hours had passed since they discovered the barn, and the peace they'd briefly found had vanished into thin air. Lori held Carl close, staring at the flames dancing before her eyes.

She looked up to meet her eldest daughter’s gaze, stifling a sigh when she found nothing in them. She was worried about Delilah—worried because the once vibrant teenager, full of life and promise, had lost her spark, her expression now empty and blank.

But what she hated the most was that, due to wrong choices, the mother-daughter bond was lost forever. She could no longer comfort her. Delilah pushed her away.

Carl was the only one who still seemed to love her unconditionally. Lori fought back tears, closing her eyes and resting her head on Carl's, gently stroking his back while the group resumed their heated debate.

"We’re not safe! We have to do something, or those doors will give way, and in the middle of the night, we’ll be torn apart by the dead."

Delilah’s patience was wearing thin. Lately, she felt like she was losing her mind. "Shane, does anything I say go in one ear and out the other? Damn it! We can’t just do whatever the hell we want, especially when Hershel wants us out of here as soon as possible!"

Shane turned to her, furious. "You have no right to make decisions, kid. These are adult matters! You can’t understand what’s best for the group. If we followed your idea, we'd all be dead by tomorrow morning!"

"Stop!" Dale stood up, stepping between them. "There’s no need to get worked up. We have to stay united," he sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through what little hair remained.

Shane, still furious, sat down on one of the logs. The silence that settled over the group only made Delilah more anxious. She glanced around, trying to calm herself. She knew that snapping back at Shane, especially in his current state, wouldn’t lead to anything productive, so she bit her tongue, forcing herself to think about something else.

She reached out to stroke Orion, who was sleeping next to her chair.

After a long silence, Rick stood up and headed toward the house. No one asked him what he was going to do; instead, they all remained in their places as if any movement might spell disaster.

Delilah fixated on the flames, watching their mesmerizing dance. If she concentrated hard enough, she could make out shapes moving hypnotically within the fire.

And that’s how she fell asleep—watching the figures dance in the flames, while Orion curled up on her lap, shielding her from the early November chill. The days had grown short, colder, and the group's concern was how they'd keep warm if Hershel refused to let them into the house.

"What the hell are you doing?" Delilah jolted awake, jumping out of her chair. The sudden movement sent sharp pain through her stiff muscles. The brief peace and tranquility she'd enjoyed while half-asleep vanished as the surrounding noise rushed back to her all at once.

Orion, still sounding like a puppy, began barking at the distant commotion and his owner’s sudden movement. Delilah looked around, confused, until she spotted her group rushing toward the barn in the distance, beyond the fence.

What she saw next confused her even more. "What the hell..." She shook off her drowsiness and sprinted toward the group, now gathered in front of a chilling scene that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her father was leading a walker on a leash.

She couldn't hear the conversation yet, still too far away, with Orion following closely behind her. Her heart pounded wildly as she saw Shane pull out a gun and shoot the walker her father was leading, right in the head.

Delilah froze in her tracks, watching the scene unfold before her eyes.

The cold, dry November air clung to her skin, her breath quick and shallow as she watched an old family friend open the barn doors, releasing a small herd of walkers into the open.

Shane was the first to open fire. Moments later, Andrea grabbed a rifle, and a few others followed suit, taking the same initiative to finally put down those who the Greene family had once considered part of them.

Delilah wanted to feel something—anything—when Beth’s screams pierced the air, or when she saw the blonde girl lay down beside the body she believed to be her mother, clinging to the last shred of hope that these people could somehow return to who they once were.

But what made Delilah’s breath catch wasn’t Beth’s cries or the moment the body beside her tried to bite her. It was when the entire group’s attention snapped back toward the barn doors.

She wanted to join them, to cross the fence and hear what they were saying, to better understand what was happening. She bent down to scoop up Orion when he began whimpering and trembling, holding him tightly in her arms as another wail of despair cut through the air.

This time, it was Carol who collapsed to the ground, falling to her knees, supported by Lori. The group blocked Delilah’s view, preventing her from seeing what had caused such a reaction in the woman who was already so broken by life.

But maybe it was something Delilah didn’t want to see.

The apocalypse had changed her, just as it had changed everyone. It had hardened her, made her more pessimistic, perhaps even more indifferent than she’d been before the world fell apart. Yet, when she saw the fragile figure emerge from the barn, she felt a sharp pain in her chest.

Sophia, or what remained of her, limped out of the half-open door. The once youthful, terrified face had been reduced to decaying flesh, slowly rotting away.

Delilah didn’t want to imagine what the scene looked like up close because, even from this distance, she could see how badly the young girl had deteriorated. Carol’s sobs grew louder, not stopping until Delilah’s father, after glancing around for a moment, approached Sophia and placed the barrel of his gun to the back of her head.

A single gunshot echoed across the field, startling Orion in her arms.

When Delilah saw Carol break free from Lori’s embrace and rush to her daughter’s lifeless body, she turned away, heading back to her small spot by the fire, unable to watch the heartbreaking scene of a mother grieving over her child.

Lately, Delilah’s coping mechanism seemed to be avoidance. She no longer asked questions or involved herself in conversations, especially after her last argument with Shane. As the days went by, she spoke less and less, often spending entire days in the company of Orion, and occasionally, Carl.

Carl. Delilah had noticed his change too—a preteen forced to survive in a world like this for months. What worried her wasn’t that he was in danger—she knew Carl was tough—but that he might be shutting down emotionally, just like she was.

Since Sophia's official death, Carl had become cold toward everyone. He no longer spoke to Shane and avoided his presence altogether, snapping back at Lori and acting in ways that were entirely unlike him.

Delilah had always been good at observing people, and recently, it seemed like that was all she could do. Tensions were at an all-time high since the barn incident, and she was exhausted—exhausted by the awful situation, tired of the people around her, and weary at the thought of having to find another place to stay once her father and Glenn returned with Hershel.

Yet, perhaps she wasn’t as observant as she thought, because she hadn’t noticed Shane leave, nor had she seen him return with her mother until they parked. Confused, Delilah got up from her chair and approached them.

Andrea immediately rushed to hug Lori. "Oh my God, are you okay? We were so worried!"

Delilah eyed her mother warily before stepping aside when Carl elbowed past her to run into Lori’s arms. She lifted him off the ground, holding him tightly. "Yes, I’m fine. I was in an accident."

"She was attacked," Shane corrected, standing uncomfortably close to Lori, much to Delilah’s displeasure. Lori rolled her eyes, setting Carl back on the ground before glancing around, searching for someone in the small crowd that had gathered.

"I’m fine. Really. Where’s Rick?" she asked, worry filling her voice when she didn’t see him. She looked at Andrea, then at Maggie, who had stepped out of the house to check on the situation.

Her gaze finally landed on Delilah, distant and unfocused, as if she were looking at her from far away. "Haven’t they come back yet?"

"Not yet," Delilah replied, pulling her red leather jacket tighter around herself and stifling a yawn.

Not in the mood to stand around waiting for her father and Glenn to return, Delilah turned on her heel, ready to head back to the makeshift camp. But she was stopped by the sound of her mother’s frustrated, angry voice.

"You bastard."

"Lori—"

"He’s my husband!" she shouted, shoving Shane. The small group watched, confused and on edge, ready to intervene if Shane reacted poorly.

"Lori, I’ll go look for him!" Shane’s raised voice drew out the rest of the Greene family from the house, all of them watching nervously, fearing there was some imminent danger.

What none of them seemed to realize was that the danger was already right in front of them—one of their own. Dale glanced at Delilah, then back at the escalating scene before them.

Delilah’s body flooded with rage when Shane grabbed her mother’s arm, causing Lori to wince from the force of his grip. Before she could think, Delilah launched herself at him, grabbing his arm.

"Don’t you dare touch her, you asshole!" she growled through clenched teeth, but within seconds, she found herself on the ground. The left side of her face stung sharply, like an injection, and her ear rang for a few seconds, disorienting her. It all happened so quickly that Delilah didn’t even realize what had hit her, though hearing her mother’s screams and the shock from those around her made it easy to figure out.

A metallic taste filled her mouth as a pair of hands helped her up to her knees. Her mother knelt in front of her, reaching for her face, but Delilah recoiled, a sharp pain shooting through her left side.

"Get away," Lori snarled at someone behind her daughter. Footsteps retreated from the scene. "Are you okay, honey? I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry," she whispered in Delilah’s ear, wrapping her arms around her and stroking her hair, just as she had when Delilah was little.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

In the fading light of late afternoon, the room was enveloped in a heavy, almost palpable silence. The old Dale crouched slowly toward Lori, holding a damp cloth. Her face, marked with faint scratches from the incident earlier, was fixed on Delilah, who in turn glanced at Carl standing beside her, his face tight with worry.

At twelve years old, Carl’s large, innocent eyes, which had already seen too much, betrayed a barely concealed anxiety. He kept his gaze fixed on his mother, trying to be strong as if his mere presence could ease Lori’s pain. 

“Don’t worry, Carl,” Lori murmured as Dale handed her the cloth so she could gently tend to her wounds herself. “It’s nothing serious.”

Carl nodded, but his expression remained unconvinced. He watched every move Lori made, as though fearing that even a slight touch could cause her more harm. Lori attempted to smile at him, but the tension in the air made any reassurance seem inadequate.

His eyes darted from his mother to his older sister, who sat across from him in an armchair, her expression betraying nothing. Delilah watched the scene with her arms crossed, her face flushed with the lingering anger from the earlier argument. Her irritation was not just for Lori, but for herself as well. Shane had hit her—a family friend she had once considered almost like an uncle. Her mind replayed the moment she had tried to intervene, to stop the explosive argument, and the violent response she received in return.

She had known Shane was a danger for a long time, but the fact that he had escalated to hitting her was a different matter. Shane was a ticking time bomb, and the moment when he would explode seemed closer than ever.

The silence between them was thick, and Carl couldn’t help but notice the palpable tension emanating from his older sister. He moved closer to Lori and took her hand, a simple gesture that seemed to promise his unwavering support.

Lori sighed slightly, drawing everyone’s attention. “I can’t believe Shane would do something like this,” she said finally, her voice heavy with bitterness.

“He’ll do worse,” Delilah snapped, lifting her gaze to meet her mother’s eyes. Her voice was sharp, brimming with barely contained rage. She couldn’t understand whether Lori was truly blind to Shane’s danger or too infatuated with him to see it. “He’s a threat. One of these days, he’ll do something that gets us all killed.”

Lori fell silent for a moment, her expression strained but composed. She tried to maintain a facade of calm, but the tension between them was undeniable, and Delilah could sense it. Carl, meanwhile, had not taken his eyes off his mother, his face reflecting the weight of something he didn’t fully understand.

Dale looked up from his task, his wise and weary eyes meeting Delilah’s. There was no need for words between them. Delilah knew he understood, that he shared her concerns. There was a silent understanding between them, a bond forged over time, perhaps because Dale had never been as naive as Lori seemed to be.

“Shane has his issues,” Dale said slowly, his voice calm but with a gravity that left no room for disagreement. The tone, though measured, was a warning. “But hitting someone… that’s not justifiable.”

Delilah pressed her lips together, her heart pounding. That wasn’t the point, not entirely. “It’s not just that, Dale,” she said, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions. “Shane is unstable. He always seems on the verge of… exploding. You can’t tell me you don’t see that too.”

Lori clenched her hands, trying to stay in control. “Delilah, it’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is!” Delilah interrupted, her words flowing like a flood. “Lori, you refuse to see it. You want to protect everyone, but he’s a ticking time bomb, and when he explodes… we won’t be ready.”

Carl lowered his gaze, visibly shaken by his sister’s harsh words, and Lori seemed about to respond, but it was Dale who spoke up before another argument could erupt.

Delilah’s words had clearly hurt Lori, who had realized she had lost her child the moment she called her by name.

“Delilah is right about one thing,” Dale said slowly, locking eyes with Lori. “Shane is going through a rough patch, and if we’re not careful, that rough patch could become dangerous for all of us.”

Lori closed her eyes for a moment, the weight of Dale’s and Delilah’s words pressing down on her like a stone. When she opened them again, she seemed more weary. “I won’t let him hurt anyone,” she finally said, her voice low but firm. “I’ll handle it.”

The girl couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Oh really? And how?” Delilah’s tone was sharp, biting—nothing good could come from it. “I’m not sure your approach is quite suitable right now, don’t you think?”

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the distant ticking of a clock. Dale looked down at the floor for a moment before slowly rising, as if his bones were burdened with unbearable weight. He exited the room, unwilling to participate in the family argument he had tried to avoid.

“Delilah—”

“No!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and leaping out of the chair. “No! You can’t say anything! You’re putting yourself and Carl in danger just because you can’t control yourself! None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gotten so close to him in a moment of weakness!”

Lori’s eyes filled with tears, humiliated by her daughter’s words. But the harshness didn’t stop there. “Because that’s what you are. Weak.” Delilah jabbed her finger at Lori’s chest before storming out of the room, her anger surging through her veins as she slammed the front door behind her, ignoring Orion’s cheerful greeting on the porch.

She sat on the porch steps, stroking Orion’s soft fur and shivering as she heard footsteps approaching, too familiar to ignore. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Shane stopped briefly in front of her before passing by without a word and entering the house.

She watched him go, the door closing behind him, and made herself a promise. 

If Shane wasn’t dead by the end of the weekend, she would ensure it herself. And that’s how she fell asleep, plotting the death of someone who had once been a core part of her life.

The next morning, Delilah woke up still sitting on the porch steps as a car approached and stopped a few meters away from her. It took her a moment to adjust her vision to the sunlight, but as soon as she recognized her father emerging from the car, she sprang to her feet, ignoring the slight dizziness she felt, and rushed to meet him.

Rick enveloped her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her head. "You're here," Delilah whispered against her father's chest, her voice cracking with exhaustion and emotion. For a moment, all the pain, anger, and fear seemed to dissipate. In that instant, she was simply a daughter in her father's arms, finding a safe haven in a world that seemed increasingly unstable.

Rick held her tightly, sensing the tension in her body. He was tired too, weighed down by everything that had been happening, but he tried not to show it. "Everything will be okay," he murmured in a deep, reassuring voice. "I'm back."

Delilah clung to those words, as if they could really bring order to the chaos surrounding them. But deep down, she knew Rick's return wouldn't solve everything. Not with Shane, not with the mounting tensions. Still, in that moment, it didn’t matter.

Within seconds, the sound of the engine and Rick's presence woke the rest of the group. The doors of the house flew open, and those who had been outside rushed to meet them. Lori was the first to arrive, with Carl right behind her, his face a mix of anxiousness and hope. From the porch, Dale descended with a calmer pace, but there was a look of relief in his weary eyes.

Delilah slowly detached herself from Rick's embrace and turned just in time to see Glenn stepping out of the car, visibly exhausted but relieved. He pushed back the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and gave a nod to the others, a half-smile that couldn’t completely hide his fatigue.

From the passenger seat, Hershel emerged more slowly. His gnarled hands braced against the doorframe for leverage as he climbed out with a serious but determined expression. The journey seemed to have taken its toll on him, but his confident gaze at Rick and the others spoke of his commitment to help, just as he always had.

Lori moved closer to Rick and hugged him tightly, while Carl clung to his father's jacket, seeking comfort. "You found Hershel," Lori murmured, her voice a mix of relief and concern.

Rick nodded, looking intently at his wife. "Yes, he's with us. We have a lot to discuss."

Glenn approached Delilah, giving her a light pat on the shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "Everything okay here?" he asked softly, noticing the faint bruise forming on her cheek, though his attentive gaze sought answers in the expressions of those who had stayed behind.

As Rick tried to recover from the intensity of the moment and Hershel approached slowly with Glenn by his side, a growing tension began to permeate the group. Lori, Dale, and Carl exchanged questioning glances, noting that Rick, Glenn, and Hershel seemed more worried than expected.

It was Delilah who first noticed something strange. The car trunk wasn’t completely closed, and a faint vibration was coming from inside. She moved closer, her heart pounding in her chest. As she reached for the trunk to open it fully, Glenn tried to stop her with a quick "Wait!" — but it was too late.

The trunk swung open entirely, revealing a young man inside, bound and with a dirty cloth around his mouth. His eyes were wide with terror, and he struggled weakly to free himself. Delilah took a step back in shock, and in an instant, the rest of the group gathered around the trunk, their faces a mix of disbelief and concern.

“Who the hell is this?” Dale asked, his voice rough and incredulous, his face etched with concern.

Rick stepped forward, his expression tight. “His name is Randall,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed on the young prisoner.

Lori’s voice was filled with disbelief. “Rick, what’s going on?”

Hershel spoke up, calm but with a serious tone. “He was involved in a bad incident; we had to help him… but the problem is, he’s not alone.”

Delilah stared at the young man, her heart pounding even harder. “What do you mean? Where does he come from?”

Glenn cleared his throat, searching for the right words. “He’s from a group… an armed group. We don’t know how many there are or where they are exactly, but we have reason to believe they could be dangerous.”

Carl, who had been silent until then, stepped forward, looking at Randall with wide eyes. “And what are we going to do with him?” he asked, his voice full of curiosity as he watched the young man lose consciousness.

Rick clenched his jaw. “We need to decide. We can’t just let him go without knowing if he’ll bring his group here.”

A heavy silence fell over the group. Each member looked at Randall, but also at each other, searching for answers that no one seemed ready to give.

In the living room of the house, the atmosphere was charged with tension. Everyone had gathered around the central table, except for Delilah, who stood in a corner of the room with her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the group.

Her father’s face was marked by worry, while Rick took his place at the center, his expression grave.

Randall had been locked in the cabin a short distance from the house, at a safe distance, after Hershel had to tend to a deep wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“We can’t let him go,” Rick said firmly, breaking the silence. His tone was authoritative but heavy with responsibility. “If we do, he might return to his group and lead them here. We don’t know how many there are or what they’re capable of.”

Glenn, sitting next to him, nodded. “Rick’s right. We can’t take the risk. His group could kill us all. We need to think about our safety.”

“The bar, in town,” the old man began, “we heard them talking. They seem to be a large, disorganized group. We can’t underestimate them.”

Dale clasped his hands, his face pale with anxiety. “But we can’t kill him. We can’t... become like that,” he said, his voice trembling yet resolute. He looked at Rick with intensity, as if searching for a shred of humanity in this desperate situation. “There’s always another solution.”

“What solution, Dale?” Shane interjected, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed defiantly on Rick. “There’s no time for half measures. This kid knows where the farm is. If we let him go, it’s only a matter of time before he returns with armed men. We need to do what’s necessary.”

Lori, sitting next to her husband, removed her hand from her mouth and looked at Shane in confusion. “How do you know that?”

Rick looked to Hershel, the head of the household, waiting for him to confirm what he had told them in the car. “Randall knows our family, or at least he knows Beth and where she lives. They went to school together and he’s from the area. It didn’t take him long to recognize me despite the severe blood loss.”

Delilah, in the corner of the room, followed the conversation with keen eyes, saying nothing. She was there, a silent and invisible presence, but every word echoed in her mind. She bit her lower lip, her hands pressed tightly against her chest. Shane, as always, was direct, but there was something unsettling in his manner. It wasn’t just concern for safety. It was something darker.

It was a thirst for control and power over everything and everyone.

Dale raised his hand, cutting through the argument. “Hold on a minute.” His voice was calm but laden with a wisdom that could not be ignored. “We can’t make a decision like this so quickly. We’re still human, or at least we should be. Killing this boy... it’s not justifiable. We don’t even know if his group will come looking for him.”

“We can’t afford to make mistakes,” Shane retorted, his tone growing harsher. “Dale, you’re living in the past. We’re not in that world anymore. We need to protect ourselves. We have to be realistic.”

Then T-Dog spoke up, his voice low but resolute. “Maybe we can find a remote place and leave him there. Without means to return or dangerous weapons. We give him a chance, but not enough to pose a threat.”

Rick considered those words for a moment, but Shane shook his head in disapproval. “That’s just another waste of time. He could still survive and come back with others.”

The debate continued, with voices rising, creating a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Delilah, however, remained silent, watching the chaos unfold before her. Inside, she felt a mix of fear and anger. Her heart pounded harder every time Shane spoke. There was something wrong with him, something that made her increasingly uneasy.

Eventually, Rick stood up from his chair, his decision etched on his drawn face. “We’ll decide tomorrow morning,” he said with a firm tone, looking at each of them. “Tonight, we keep him locked up. No one does anything until we’re all in agreement.”

The voices quieted, but the atmosphere in the room remained tense, as if an inexorable time bomb was ticking away.

The next day arrived with an eerie stillness. The morning air was crisp, but there was a palpable tension hanging over the house. 

No one had slept well, and each step seemed heavier than usual, laden with the weight of the decisions they had to face. The sunlight filtered hesitantly through the windows, almost reluctant to illuminate the scene that was about to unfold.

In the living room, Rick, Lori, Shane, Dale, Glenn, and Hershel had gathered again. Delilah was already there, as she had been the night before, seated in the corner and watching in silence.

She had spent the night in a state of wakefulness, her thoughts in turmoil. The idea that everything was on the verge of collapsing wouldn’t leave her mind. And damn, if her intuition wasn’t spot on.

Rick was the first to speak, his voice heavy and resolute. “We’ve all had time to think about this,” he said, looking at each face present. “We can’t ignore the risk. Randall knows our location, knows where we are. But we can’t make a decision without considering the consequences.”

Shane, who had never had much patience for long discussions, stood up abruptly, shaking his head. “We’ve already talked enough, Rick. Randall has to die. End of story. If we let him go, we’re all dead. He’s a threat, and you know it.”

Dale, as he had the day before, raised his hand to stop Shane. “Hold on, Shane. Killing a kid like this, in cold blood... we can’t do it. It would make us monsters. We need to find an alternative.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, as if each word could spark a dangerous flashpoint. Rick looked between them, trying to find a balance between their positions. But it was clear that the decision was wearing him down.

Delilah was exhausted. Exhausted by the arguments, the increasingly difficult moral choices, the people around her who seemed incapable of seeing what was really happening. It was as if no one wanted to admit that, in the end, they had all changed. Their humanity was fragile, hanging by a thread, and she no longer knew what to cling to.

She slowly stood up from her chair in the corner of the room, trying not to draw attention. No one noticed her movement. They were all too engrossed in discussing Randall, the risk he posed, and what they should do.

Delilah quietly slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her. She took a deep breath, savoring the fresh morning air. A day away from it all. She needed to escape, even if just for a few hours.

Outside, Orion was waiting for her. She petted him on the head, feeling his soft fur between her fingers. “Let’s go, buddy,” she whispered, and together they headed towards the woods surrounding the Greene farm.

The sun climbed high in the sky as Delilah walked through the forest, finally feeling some semblance of peace. The leaves crunched under her feet, and the wind rustled the trees above her. Orion ran ahead, exploring, his tongue lolling out in excitement. 

Delilah no longer thought about the tension in the house. She no longer thought about Shane, Rick, or the moral dilemma regarding Randall. She was alone, at least for a while, and that was enough.

She spent the day wandering aimlessly, following the winding trails of the woods. She sat by a stream to drink some water, watching Orion play with the stones in the water. Time seemed to stand still.

But as the sun began to set, an odd sensation crossed her skin. A sudden shiver. She looked around, noticing the forest growing darker, and with it, a sense of danger seeped into her heart.

“It’s time to go back,” Delilah whispered, her voice almost breaking the silence around her. Orion, her loyal pup, followed immediately, but there was something strange in the air. Something... wrong.

Every step she took towards the farm seemed heavier, as if the forest itself were closing in on her. The familiar sounds of the wind through the leaves had changed. There were no birds singing anymore, only the unsettling rustling of branches.

The air had grown thick, suffocating. Then she heard it: a low, guttural groan. Her blood ran cold. It was a sound she knew all too well.

She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. A walker.

Without thinking, she began to walk faster, trying to hold back the panic rising within her like a dark wave. Her steps quickened, but not fast enough.

Another groan. This time, it was closer. Too close. Orion began to growl, his hackles raised. Delilah spun around, and what she saw took her breath away: two walkers were emerging from the trees, their grotesque, twisted forms illuminated by the last rays of the dying sun.

Terror struck her like a punch to the stomach. "Run!" she screamed internally, but the voice in her head sounded too weak, smothered by horror. With Orion by her side, she started to run, but the ghastly groans of the walkers never ceased. Each step felt more arduous, more painful. The sound of the walkers dragging through the dry branches was an unshakable nightmare.

Her heart pounded so violently she feared it might burst. She leaped over tangled roots, dodged branches whipping her face, but the walkers never stopped. They were slow, yes, but relentless. Every time she looked back, they were there, getting closer. Their twisted hands reached out toward her, hungry for flesh.

When she finally glimpsed the farmhouse in the distance, relief swiftly turned to horror. Flames. She saw them even from afar, enormous and voracious. The tongues of fire enveloped the house, consuming everything.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her legs trembled. "Dad!" she cried out in desperation, but her voice was swallowed by the crackling flames. "Lori! Carl!" No response. Only the chilling sound of the fire devouring everything and the hissing wind carrying the acrid smell of ash.

Delilah ran, ignoring the pain burning her muscles and the tight knot in her chest. When she reached the yard, the scene that greeted her was worse than any nightmare.

Walkers wandered amidst the flames, stumbling like infernal shadows, grotesque and made more monstrous by the firelight. The farmhouse was devastated. There was no one. No sign of the group. Only destruction and death.

Orion barked furiously, trying to keep the walkers at bay, but Delilah couldn’t focus. The world around her was a distorted chaos. Where was her father? Where was Lori? What the hell had happened?

She searched desperately through the debris, her hands trembling as she rummaged through the charred remains. Every corner of the farmhouse was a heap of wreckage. The barns had collapsed, and the animals were gone. Smoke burned her throat; each breath felt like a fiery assault on her lungs.

But what was most suffocating of all was the silence. An eerie silence, broken only by the guttural sounds of the walkers and the relentless crackle of the flames. She was alone. Completely alone.

Orion continued to growl, but Delilah could no longer think clearly. The horror, fear, and anguish overwhelmed her. As the flames grew higher and the walkers drew nearer, she realized that this world had collapsed. There was nothing left. Nothing and no one.

She looked around with the dreadful awareness that she would die there, in that moment, if she didn't leave, but she couldn't risk abandoning her family behind. Assuming they were still alive.

She tried calling out their names again, but to no avail. Until she heard the distant rumble of an engine.

For half a second, a huge smile spread across her face, comforted by not being left behind, until she saw the camper heading in the opposite direction. She screamed at the top of her lungs, running towards the camper and waving frantically to be seen, but the white vehicle just accelerated away.

They had abandoned her.

Now, it was just her, the fire, and the encroaching darkness.

need I say more?

Negan cleared his throat and you glanced over at him, still on edge from unexpectedly coming on a group of walkers suddenly in the thick brush. “I have a weird… kind of personal question,” he said.

Your eyebrows lifted and you frowned. “Well, that’s not promising…” you retorted, drawing a low laugh from him. “What is it? We both know you’re going to ask anyway.”

“It wouldn’t happen to be… I don’t know—maybe your birthday today would it?” he said.

You stopped dead and stared at him intensely for a long moment. “How did you know that?”

He smiled, clearly very pleased with himself. “I may have done a little sniffing around,” he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands slipped into his pockets.

“You mean eavesdropping?” you countered, but you couldn’t help smiling a little at his interest in you.

“It was mostly accidental,” he argued. “But it did factor into me volunteering to go on this patrol today.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, crossing your arms and surveying him. “Who celebrates birthdays anymore anyway?” you countered.

Negan shrugged and then slowly withdrew a fine chain from his pocket. There was a small stone hanging on the end; shining in your favorite color. “I do. If it’s yours,” he said.

You were so stunned you didn’t even know what to say for a long moment, but you finally held your palm out and Negan dropped the necklace into your hand. You looked at the delicate silver of the chain and the understated but beautiful stone. “A little impractical these days isn’t it?” you asked, still trying to catch your breath, your heart whirring. But you were nearly overcome at the gesture…

Negan shrugged again. “Maybe. Took me a while to hunt something down… But this? I think it fuckin’ suits you. Happy birthday, doll.”

Prompt: “I have a weird kind of personal question.” / “That’s not promising.” A/N: It is my birthday today, so I selfishly wrote this fluff for our Wicked Wednesday Negan feature. He can definitely be soft and sweet! Not so wicked this week.

First meeting of Negan and Whisperer!Carl

It was the feeling.

Danger, fear, look in the back from the shadows.

Negan stopped for a second and took a breath. He was so tired but has no right to run away. Lucille in his arms trembled a little. Sweat mixed with the rotten blood of corpses.

That was some kind of a trap, but Negan wasn't sure and the only one thing he took care of was trying to survive and killing some meat puppets. He left his "home" too far and behind this gully he found an untouched building in which it was possible to find supplies. Well, it was a nice try, but all what Negan found was meat puppets and it made him fuckin' angry.

It was something that doesn't hide, but Negan can't see anything around him except meat puppets.

It was something he don't understand.

It was something alive and it scared him so much.

The last thing Negan saw was the bared face of the puppet, and last things he felt were a fetid breath and someone's hands on his shoulders.

***

Dry heat warmed his face. Negan opened his eyes. He felt himself a little bit dizzy and he felt pain in the back of the head. He was lying on the ground, covered by his own jacket. Bonfire quietly crackled, illuminating a small circle of earth from the darkness, two old backpacks, in one of which Negan recognized his own, and a fallen tree.

At first, it seemed to Negan that he was alone here, but then he saw someone else through the yellow-red flames. Negan tensed, nervously trying to find any weapon. Only his baby girl Lucille. The stranger didn't notice his actions. Long tangled hair, forehead wrinkled and ulcered; the dried skin hung from the cheeks with pieces. A meat puppet? No. Negan was surprised to understand that he was mistaken. None of the meat puppets will sit quietly and sit at all, staring at the fire, which most likely made by self. This one was dressed in a huge checked shirt and was sharpening machete.

It was a human who wears meat puppet's skin!

"Who are you?" coughed Negan and tried to sit up.

Man stared at him. Light blue eyes belonged to a living person, not a corpse.

"Who the fuck are you?!" growled Negan. "Answer me you bastard!"

Stranger ignored him.

"Take it off. Take it off and talk to me!" growled Negan again.

His rude order worked. Man put down machete and raised his hand to his face, pulling off the skin. Negan gasped. It was a boy maybe sixteen years old with long brown hair, pale skin and big blue eyes.

"We live without names. They aren't necessary anymore. If you have interest, I'm Omega and nothing more," whispered he. His voice was so quiet that Negan needed to concentrate to hear his words.

"You are just a little kid."

The boy shrugged. The shirt too big for him created the illusion that he was very small and fragile. But Negan knew it was a lie. Calm and emotionless expression, hard and ice-cold look, skillful movements of hands working with a knife. The same danger that Negan felt earlier.

"Yes I am. So what?" raised his eyebrows Omega.

"What the fucking fuck is going on, lil kid? Boy like you must hide behind his daddy's back not act yourself like crazy bastard."

"Walkers are in herd. I'm part of them."

"Nah shit," grimaced Negan. "Why are you wearing that? Is it perversion or your personal kink? I don't know but this shit is sick shit."

"Dead blood can dry. Dead skin and dead hair smell always," whispered Omega. "I'm part of the smell. I'm part of them. I feel myself safe acting like that. Walkers are my guard."

"It's disgusting actually," Negan winced, but can't notice that something in this kid looked familiar. Omega casually put his hand on the machete handle. "Wait. I know the man who calls them walkers."

"So I don't. Please I have water and food for you."

Well, Negan really felt hungry, only because his own supplies had ended yesterday. Man reached out his hand to a pack of jerky meat and a plastic bottle that looked like a treasure for him right now. He froze.

"I don't trust you. How do I know that you will not kill me and don't cut me for another one of these pretty suits?"

"I don't trust you too. The smell of your skin will not work. It is too alive. Go away from my way. You don't understand."

Obviously Omega didn't have the habit of speaking louder than a whisper.

"Go away from your way?" teased Negan. "I'm here because of you. So let's explain."

Kid ignored his words. It was silent between them for couple minutes, and Negan gave himself the opportunity to view him better. He couldn't be sure that Omega was as young as he was made by the warm reddish light of the bonfire. But he saw Omega's plump lips, shadows of his eyelashes on high cheekbones and dark curls. Omega was… intriguing.

"With the sun dawn you must leave. There is no place for you among us."

Omega looked him straight in the eyes, and Negan felt some kind of timidity. It was bad, so his natural reaction was anger.

"Us? Are you not alone with that shit? I mean people not meat puppets?"

"Give me a favor, forget about this meeting and never look for us."

"What? Are you fucking kidding me? I don't know who are you Omega and I don't owe you."

"I saved your life. They could poison your blood. I didn't allow them. You seem like a good person."

"Am I a good person? God you are so wrong kiddo."

Negan looked at him surprisingly. Omega wasn't kidding. He was as honest as Negan could understand.

"You are good person for me, because I don't see evil in your actions."

"Argh, that's all my rules. Wait… Don't tell me you spied on me!"

"A few months ago you and your people were in our territory, killed our man. This should not be allowed. I must learn about you because you are leading them. But I warned you."

Negan laughed. Looks like Omega wasn't that person who couldn't surprise. Unpleasantly surprise. None of the Savior never noticed persecution.

"Fuck okay. But I need favor too."

"What kind of?"

"Tell me your name. I mean your real name and I tell you mine.

"Why? It isn't game."

"Seriously?" rolled his eyes Negan. "I know that kid or Omega. Whatever."

"It's important. I haven't name anymore but if you want it... I don't use it for years... Name's Carl Grimes."

"Holy shit! Son of that bloody bastard Rick Grimes?! Oh my fuckin' God that's insane! He told me you are dead!"

"Be quiet. Carl Grimes is dead. Omega is not."

"Don't you dare. That man is obsessed with you and your destiny. Four years and he remembers every moment of that day."

"His memories are false. I can escape because of dead blood, I can find my new people because of dead bodies. Now Carl is gone because it is payment for Omega's life. I don't have any regrets. You can tell him or you not. I don't care."

Negan clapped his hands and stood up.

"Alright Omega. I'm Negan. Can we meet each other once again?"

"Why?"

"You look like a interesting person."

"We can't but my way and your… They can cross. And Negan… You must act quickly because for this moment I'm not part of the herd. Walkers can smell us. You need to go now. Your car is on the road two miles north."

"My car?" raised his eyebrows Negan and patted his pockets for keys. "I don't have any cars."

"Well, my car for you as my food and my water for you."

"Jesus it's weird. I'm stranger for you why are you so nice to me?

"What?"

"Uhm I think you must be pissed off. I'm the reason of Rick's problem. I mean it was so many bad things between us. Violence, death, betrayal. You know about that?

"I know and I repeat I don't care. It's only your and Rick's business."

Well, it was very strange and felt differently than Negan must feel this thin and pale boy. The End of the World have changed people, Negan changed himself and forced everyone around him too, but how could Carl Grimes destroy his personality and become Omega, whose only difference from a corpse was a living brain? Fuckin' weirdo.

"Was it some kind of brainwash? Omega you are living person not some kind of the rotten piece of meat."

"If you say so."

"Fuck alright!"

Omega looked at him intently, as if he will judge him. Negan didn't like it. Usually he was the person who evaluate people.

"Good luck or I need to say "Don't be killed?"

"Good luck is enough, I guess. And kid… I keep it secret."

Negan wanted to reach hand out to ruffle Omega's hair but warning glance stopped him. He smirked.

"Okay sweetie. Don't frow, it doesn't fit you."

It was his last words. Then he left. When he turned for the last time, he didn't even see the smoke from the bonfire. Negan shivered. He wasn't even sure that Omega was real.

MASTERLIST!

FORMULA 1

mv1 - made for lovin’ you baby

ls2 - nothing yet . . !

dr3 - nothing yet . . !

ln4 - nothing yet . . !

pg10 - nothing yet . . !

fa14 - nothing yet . . !

cl16 - nothing yet . . !

ls18 - nothing yet . . !

yt22 - soft

aa23 - nothing yet . . !

zg24 - nothing yet . . !

eo31 - nothing yet . . !

ob38 - nothing yet . . !

lh44 - nothing yet . . !

cs55 - nothing yet . . !

gr63 - labyrinth ( part one )

- labyrinth ( part two )

op81 - matching bracelets

MOVIES

donnie darko - doll

- baby

- relax!

dazed and confused - nothing yet . . !

it 2017 - nothing yet . . !

gran turismo - nothing yet . . !

batman begins - nothing yet . . !

evil dead rise - nothing yet . . !

the lost boys - nothing yet . . !

the conjuring - nothing yet . . !

the amazing spider-man (or spider-man overall) - nothing yet . . !

scott pilgrim vs. the world - nothing yet . . !

dinner in america

- are you flirting?

SHOWS

brooklyn nine-nine - nothing yet . . !

avatar the last airbender - nothing yet . . !

the walking dead - nothing yet . . !

the umbrella academy - nothing yet . . !

chilling adventures of sabrina - nothing yet . . !

a series of unfortunate events - nothing yet . . !

titans - nothing yet . . !

pen15 - nothing yet . . !

MISCELLANEOUS

dc universe - father of the year.

- defiance.

- mornin’ ( just jason )

- like like! ( just damian )

- you have kids? ( just damian )

- late nights ( just dick )

- number one ( just damian )

- safe haven ( just jason )

- summer’s over ( damian and jonathan )

anything else requested will either get their own part or will be placed down here! - nothing yet . . !

**NOT MY VIDEO**

Him but with this:

Lord have MERCY, this man is too damn fine -