#arat the savior

[officertired]

Behind every powerful man is his lesbian best friend

[dilfhouse]

Fresh Delivery |Negan S. X Fem!Reader | PT. ONE

Warnings: mentions of blood, explicit language, guns, kinks, cursing, negan being smug, mentions of iprisonment.

Story: Negan discovers a suspicious crate of fresh fruit. In order to keep anyone from dying Rick has to give up the secret about your farm. At first you can't stand Negan, but in the short time you've known him, he leaves a lasting sort of impression.

“Well." Negan drawls, turning his back to his men as they work to gather the last of the supplies. Every bullet, can of food, and hope snatched from the good people of Alexandria.

"Everything seems to be in order, Rick." He gives the officer a harsh pat on the shoulder, before he reached down to pry Lucille from his grasp. "You're band of heroes are doing a bang up job of gathering all this shit." He gestures to the items with the end of Lucille as Rick stood in silence giving Negan that famous ‘stink eye’, as he liked to call it. He was going to correct him for it, but as soon as he thought to chastise him one of the soldiers had a little slip up.

They had let one of the cases of fruit tip over. Fresh tomatoes, apples, and other delights tumble out onto the concrete. Leaving brusies behind on the skin as they thumped and rolled to a stop at the two men's feet. This said fruit was currently being looked over by Negan, who had not seen a single sign of a garden since taking over. His eyes narrowed and his grin returned. The air grows cold and tense as he bends down to pick up one of the apples. Rick’s whole body is frozen in place as Negan examines the fruit then slowly turns to face him.

“Rick?" The brunnette casts his gaze down before looking up at him. He holds up the ruined fruit, “Do you have any idea where these little delights came from?"

Surely the truth was just as dangerous as a lie. Either way someone would get hurt. Rick would only hope he'd just punish him by taking more supplies, but that wasn't how things worked. So a lie it was. “We found trees-“

“Bull-fucking-Shit.” He hisses, tossing the apple aside and pressing Lucille to his chest, tapping it ever so lightly, not even bothering to let Rick finish the lie. Negan wasn't dumb. He didn’t like it when people tried to make him look that way, sure he believed in a little fun but he got the shit done.

Apparently nobody learned anything from a few days ago, after he beat the crap out of two of the most important people in Rick’s original gang. Not a single thing. “Did you not learn your lesson the first time?” He snarls, hazel eyes narrowing dangerously as he eyes the dumbfounded expressions on Rick's face. Oh he caught him alright. “So, quit feeding me shit and tell me where the fucking fruit came from!”

Rich shakes his head a huffs in defeat. Sweat dripping from his brow as he locked eyes with Negan and gave in. “It’s a small farm.” He finally gives in. “She gives us fruit, in exchange for very little-"

“Oh, she?” His interest is piqued at the mention of a woman. “You let a little lady fend for herself, Rick. That’s cold!” He lets out a rolling chuckle, and smiles. It was odd that anyone would choose to be on their own versus living in a nice community. However, he knew that being on a farm was also a smart choice.

“Well lets go pay her a visit!” He waves his hand, and the other Saviors work quickly to pick up the fruit that fell. The other members stood in a small crowd watching their every move. Negan throws his hands up in the air. “We’ll give her the good ol’welcome wagon!” He hands off Lucille to Dwight, who lowers his weapon to take the bat. The leader turns and grabs Rick by the collar of his shirt, dragging him off like he was some dog towards one of the trucks, “Arat! We’ll be back. Keep an eye on the Brady bunch, will yah!”

It had been at least a week since Rick had come to see you. The Alexandrians had become close friends of yours after discovering your lovely little farm, which had been lucky enough to outlast the horrible world that surrounded the small walls of the land. Most farmers didn’t build walls like the ones you’d been graced with but it was necessary way before the biters walked the earth. From deer, to boars, and other such rodentia it prevented unnecessary destruction to the fresh garden and small patch of crops blessing your land. When Rick and his gang first came across the farm you were dry adamant about privacy, but grew to enjoy the company, and decided to pass on small crates of fresh foods on occasion since it was only you left standing to defend the farm.

However as you had been careful as to keep track of their visits, you’d notice it’s been a few days almost bordering on five since seeing Rick last. It was odd. Maybe they were busy with the herd. You knew that they had been planning for the worst, but you weren’t exactly sure. So you decided to make the decision to make the delivery yourself, you’d an abundance of fruit, veggies, and bread this season and you surely weren’t going to use it all before it was going to spoil.

As you gather the last of the fruit into one of the wooden crates, there was an unusual loud rumble from outside your gate. It sounded like a car, maybe two. Maybe it was Rick or maybe anyone from Alexandria, you drop the basket of tangerines and rush out to undo the wooden bar locking the metal gate in place. The walls were just high enough to provide coverage from the outside. So you missed the large truck and were in such a rush to make sure you’re friend was safe. So when the doors swung open to reveal Rick but not just him your face fell. He stood next to a much taller man stood behind him, his left arm hung around his broad shoulders. A large truck sat off to the side, one guy inside, and another tall, skinny, dirty blonde hair had a gun aimed on you and Rick.

The more animated one sported a huge grin and cocked his brow. "Ding-dong. Sorry I didnt ring the bell, darlin'."

You stood frozen watching between the two before you were able to say something, “Who?” You gasp, “What’s going on?” You are shocked by the situation. Had he turned on you?

“Listen, I’m so-”

“Ah, none of that Rick.” The older man speaks, swinging his right hand, handling the bat laced with barbwire up in his direction. You stumble back and he chuckles, “Dwight keep an eye on that will yah?” He shoves Rick towards the man he addressed, the guy in the truck sat unmoving watching. Rick shot this man a glare, but it was cut short by Dwight knocking him down on his knees. You lunged forward in order to help Rick, but your kept at bay by the quick movement of the stranger swinging out his bat towards your chest.

“Ah, not so fast darlin’. Rick deserved that one, he kept this little slice of heaven a secret then lied about it.” He was kind to inform you, “See Rick and his community are now under new management, but he still seems to forget the rules.” He chuckles, shoulders shrugging as he glanced back at Rick.

“Negan.” Rick hisses, “Leave her out of this. She’s on her own.” The bat at your chest lowers but does nothing to help steady the increasing beat of your heartbeat, the rise and fall of your chest comes in rapid movements.

“Ho-ly Shit!” Negan speaks out suddenly, “It’s just you out here?” He asks. As if he didn't figure that out back at the community.

You open your mouth to answer by are cut short by him once more, “Fancy livin’ you got there sweetheart. A little garden, some fresh crops, maybe a cow or two in the barn.” He tosses the weapon in his hands back and forth as he swaggers closer towards you. “So where is mama and pop-pop. I wanna meet the Mr. and the Missus."

With everything that happened in the moment, all of your adrenaline and confusion, you reached out and smacked him. Rick, despite his position, knew how Negan would react to such an action, and he wanted to help you, but the barrel that dug into his temple kept him still. "Not an inch." Dwight reminded him.

The man in the truck moved to aim his own weapon towards you. Negan holds him off with a wave of his hand. He chuckles, throaty and heartfelt, almost if he had enjoyed it.

“Day-yumn!” He nearly shouted, “You got quite a hand on yah, sweetheart.” He laughs as you clench your hands at your sides. He waits for a response or some kind of sass, but you say nothing. He leans down to be eye to eye, “Why don’t you give me a tour huh?” At this proximity you can smell the bitterness of beer and brisk scent of pine. When he didn’t get the reaction he wanted, he reached his gloved hand under your chin, finger digging into the flesh of your cheeks, “I said give me a fucking tour, princess. Don’t make me ask again.” He growled, your eyes trailing up his face.

Now you could really take in his features this close. The well trimmed peppered heart, perfect lips, hazel eyes you could lose yourself in. Sure he may have insulted your intelligence, but it felt good to have a man put you in your place. “Yes, Sir.” You reply without a beat. His lips pull into a smirk and he chuckles.

“See, Rick! We’re gettin’ along just peachy.” He finally releases your face and the dull ache in your jaw is only an afterthought as he kindly places a hand on your lower back and ushers you further towards the garden. “B-R-B.” He sings leaving his men to watch over Rick.

The gravel crunches beneath the weight of your steps as you and Negan approached the garden abundant with many fresh goodies. He swings his bat as he walks, "So what's your name, sweet cheeks?"

"Y/N, and that's all you're going to get out of me."

"Oh we'll see about that darlin'." Negan chimes in.

((So I had this all planned out and I think it'll do better in multiple parts. So keep checking back for more! Thank you for reading 📚))

[queenvidal]

Welcome To The Sanctuary

Negan x Reader (Rick’s Daughter)

Chapter 1: Something Eerie

Chapter Summary: It was supposed to be just another pickup day - not a nightmare. Rick is ready to strike against Negan, but all war efforts come to a complete stop, when the life of the woman both men care about the most is on the line.

Wordcount: 2157

Era: Season 7

- Part 5 of the The One And Only Series -

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 - COMING SOON!

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

It’s late in the morning, when a small convoy of trucks makes its way down the deserted roads. 

The Saviors are heading to their bosses favorite community. Negan is almost mindlessly driving behind one of the trucks, watching the all too familiar suburb passing by his windows. Today is pickup day for Alexandria and he can’t wait to see what Prick’s people got him this time. It better be good after all the trouble his son caused last week. 

It probably won't be much, he muses. Not that he cares too much about it but the town is now short of three more people. It certainly has to put their scavengers under even more pressure. But then again, Rick and especially his Sweet-Thing had to deal with even worse conditions in the past, when coordinating their teams and if anyone can get shit done, it’s her.

After the events of last week's pickup, Negan had to think of her constantly. She must have known about Spencer's plans or at least had to have a suspicion, given how stressed she was, when he first approached them. What a slimy asshole and a coward on top. There is no doubt in his mind his Sunshine would have killed him for what he tried to do. Luckily she didn’t have to lift a finger, she is already close enough to getting exiled as it is and also Negan was more than willing to lend a hand in that matter. 

As much as he can't stand Rick, he's got to admit that he's doing a good job - that is keeping his people alive and scavenging good stuff. Also he is well experienced from his years outside of that town and kept so many people alive during that time. That knowledge is priceless in times like this and Negan actually respects him for it. That Spencer really thought he'd not just be as good but even better than Rick as a leader is not only astonishing but also downright pathetic. That asshole got what he deserved. 

Still, there is one thing from this whole ordeal that’s still leaving a bitter taste in Negan's mouth and that is the death of the fat woman. He disliked her and was never subtle about it but he knew she was somewhat close to his Sunshine and although it was Arat’s decision to take her out, he still feels sorry for Y/N. 

He can’t forget that burning anger in her eyes, when she glared at that bitch that tried to shoot him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit turned on by the sight of it, as out of place as it was. After all his Sweet-Thing is hot as hell when she’s pissed and she’s been seething. 

Negan can’t help but smile at that memory. He’s so excited to see her again. It surprised him how much he actually enjoyed their little game of hide and seek. It made the whole affair even more enticing. Still he’s glad people somehow found out eventually. Hopefully this will result in more time with her than rushed quickies every now and then. Given the new circumstances, Negan decided to retire his RV for the time being and left it in The Sanctuary. There is no need for it anymore and her bedroom will do just fine. He really can’t wait to take his time with her.

Finally the high walls of Alexandria are slowly coming into view and the head of the Saviors  focuses back onto the road ahead of him. Slowly the gate opens up, making way for the convoy. Negan scans the guards standing on the wall but his Sunshine is nowhere to be seen. She’s not on duty right now it seems. 

The trucks drive through the gate onto the parking lot and Negan stops his car right on top of the convoy. The Saviors gather around their vehicles, ready to go through today's pickup. Negan jumps out of his car, shutting the door shut. 

Uncomfortableness is creeping up his spine immediately - Something is wrong. 

Somehow he has the feeling that something is off but Negan just can’t put his finger on it and it's making him feel quite uneasy. Suddenly on high alert, he's looking around the area. Usually around this time Alexandrians would roam the street, watching the activities but the streets are empty. 

Except for one person. 

“Ah, Rick!” Negan calls the approaching man with a bright smile that quickly dies again. The closer Rick gets, the more his sorry state becomes visible. The man looks like he’s seen a ghost. His skin is pale, only accentuating the redness of his sunken eyes. The hell happened to him?

Once he’s reached the Saviors, Rick greets them with a weak nod of his head. “Negan. Your stuff’s at the pantry.” 

A frown settles on Negan's face. Rick’s not meeting his eyes and while that’s nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it’s quite welcome, it still seems off. The other man’s not avoiding his gaze like he used to but is just staring into the void. What the hell is going on here? After another quick glance around the area, still not seeing his Sweet-Thing, Negan asks, “Where’s Y/N?”

Rick swallows hard. After a moment, he states. “She’s out scouting.”

This statement only adds to the distressing feeling in Negan’s gut. Rick is so obviously lying. She would never go out scouting with a different car than her stupid Mini. The Mini that is clearly sitting in the far corner of the parking lot. 

Negan takes one step closer to Rick, his eyes narrowing. But before he can confront Rick about his observations, he sees a woman appearing in the corner of his eye. She’s stepping out of the infirmary. That’s one of Sunshine’s team, he realizes. The woman is crying and wiping her tears. Blood is dripping from her hands.

Negan’s eyes switch between her and Rick. Something is going on. After one final glance at the other man who’s still not meeting his eyes, Negan gets moving. He pushes himself past Rick without a word, heading for the infirmary. Rick’s about to say something but when he sees Sasha standing on the porch, he keeps his mouth shut, following Negan with his head down.

Knots tighten in Negan's chest. The air feels tense, almost eerie. There is not a single person in sight and the whole town is silent. Only the sound of boots moving over the gravel can be heard. It’s quite goosebumps inducing. The head of the Saviors tries to calm himself down, he can’t have his nerves get the better of him. 

When they reach the porch, Sasha moves out of their way to the side. She looks at Rick, even more tears are running down her cheeks when she slowly shakes her head at him. Negan can’t see Rick's reaction but at the moment he doesn’t care. All he wants is to find out what’s going on. With the unpleasant feeling in his gut quickly growing, he opens the door and moves inside.

Once through the door, the man is being hit with the pungent smell of blood. His nose crinkles to its own accord and he is met with another puffy red eye. Rick's boy is sitting on a chair next to a cot, looking up at him with a tear stained face, holding the hand of the person lying there. 

When Negan's eyes eventually wander to the cot, he stops dead in his tracks. Sunshine. Negan almost forgot how to breathe. There is so much blood. 

"It's been an accident." Rick's small voice sounds behind the boss, but he barely registers the other man. Negan moves forward, coming to stand right next to Carl. The boy doesn’t say a word, only holding the hand of his sister in silence.

Negan’s eyes roam over her. His Sunshine is almost unrecognizable, the way she's lying there, completely still, unconscious. Her skin is so pale, almost gray. Bandages are wrapped around her exposed middle but there is still so much blood on her, the cot, the equipment. A rusty metal rod on the cart catches Negan's attention briefly but he quickly moves his eyes back to the big crimson red spot on her belly.

"It happened so fast." Rick tries to explain, "We couldn't-"

"Got a doc or something?" Negan cuts him off immediately, his eyes not leaving her.

Rick’s just looking at his daughter. "She's… she’s our medic.”

Negan’s clenching his jaw. A quiet fuck is leaving his lips as he’s running his ungloved hand through his hair, still taking all of this in. 

She’s dying. 

Once that thought passes his mind, Negan snaps back from his spinning mind. He moves his attention back to her father, “Prepare her for transport. I’m taking her with us.”

“No-” Rick is about to argue, but there is no room nor time for a debate right now.

“I see you still don't understand what your daughter means to me, Rick.” Negan states in a serious tone, towering over the other man. “I’ve got a doc and a clinic. She’s coming with me.” 

“I'm coming with you.” Surprised, both men look at the boy. “So she won't be alone.” 

After a short moment of consideration, Negan agrees and nods at him. “Fine. Pack her some things.” Carl carefully places his sister's hand on the cot again, before quickly rushing out of the room. Negan turns his head back towards Rick again. “You get her ready,” he orders, before brushing past him, getting his car.

Rick watches him leave before moving his attention back to his daughter again. Slowly he comes closer, taking her hand in his. His eyes well up again as he looks at her. He raises her hand to his lips, praying to any God who cares to listen, to make her stay, to not take her away. “I love you so much,” he whispers against her skin. It pains him so much to see her like that.

After a new wave of tears are threatening to stream down his face, Rick realizes he has to get going. With as much care as he can muster, he puts a blanket around his daughter, wrapping her up into a cocoon before slowly lifting her up into his arms. Cautiously he hugs her against his chest. “Please don't leave us, Y/N.”

Eventually Rick starts moving, bringing his daughter outside. Sasha is sitting on the railing, still fighting the tears, trying to take a breath and calm down. She offers to help him but Rick doesn't seem to notice her as he’s passing her by without a word. Negan parked his car right in front of the house, Carl is already waiting next to it with a duffel bag in his hand. 

Rick walks down the steps attentively, going towards the car. Negan, who just finished instructing Simon to carry on with the pickup, comes closer, ready to take over but Rick moves past him. Carl quickly opens the door before helping his father to slowly and carefully lay his sister down onto the back seat of the car. Rick tugs her in one more time, whispering to her to keep fighting, to please wake up again, before he has to reluctantly let go of her.

As much as he hates Negan and as much as he distrusts him with every fiber of his being, if that man can save her, he will swallow all his hatred up. He’d do everything in and beyond his power for her. All he wants is for his daughter to open her eyes again.

Negan comes to stand next to Rick, looking at him with something close to compassion in his features, “Whatever happens, either way, I’ll let you know.” He's reaching out his hand, offering the other man a two-way radio.

Rick only nods silently, taking it. After one final look at his daughter, he's moving away. Negan lets out a sharp whistle, gaining Carl's attention. “Jump in.” The boy does as he’s been told, hopping into the passenger seat while Negan hurries onto his. 

The engine roars to life as they quickly take off and hit the road. Rick watches them drive out of the gate. His heart is shattering into a million pieces. This feels way too much like a last goodbye.

Sasha’s slowly approaching him. She puts her hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture, but there is nothing that can console him. 

Negan is racing down the streets as fast as he can. Adrenaline is rushing through his veins. Please, let it not be too late. It’s dead silent in the car. Now more than ever is he afraid of noises. 

Dreading to hear the tell-tale sound of quiet groaning. 

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 - COMING SOON!

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

Taglist: @starry-night-20 / @joceymoo / @srhxpci / @ladykxxx08 / @sunneeflower / @frombloodandflesh / @aleeeesa /@lanamiller / @fanfic-n-tabulous / @noirfan12 / @abbiesxox / @elinafresk / @obsessiveformiyatwins / @kokushibosgirl / @syrma-sensei / @oceandolores

[haruhey]

The Day Will Come When You Won't Be

Enemies With Benefits masterlist

Word count: 5k

Chapter warnings: descriptions of everything that happens at the Negan lineup. If you can stomach that, everything else should be no problem.

The Saviors seize a hostage.

You should have never gotten on the truck.

But what could you have done, really?

“Got a new group out there givin’ us trouble, and I’m in the mood to settle some shit. Wanna come?”

He stood lent against your doorframe just 4 hours ago, the Virginian sun still streaming in from the tiny crack of wall you called a window, and he had that grin twisting his features. You’d been through enough of those looks to understand that, when it morphs his face, he’s not asking, and your skin had risen into those insistent, memory-laden goosebumps that come like Pavlovian instinct, forcing you to leave the scratchy linen of your sheets and pad across the frigid cement of your room.

In 10 minutes flat, you were dressed and loading into the seat you’re in now, and 5 minutes later you were peeling out of that hell-hole, a nonchalant humming coming from the man next to you as he taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, one half of some long forgotten rhythm muffled slightly by the leather of his glove. 

You keep your eyes on the flashes of trees as you ride on gravel roads. You don’t want to look at him. Or at the mirror, where you would see Arat and the bat resting next to her. You’re not sure if you can, souvenirs of its violence painting the metal wire. Knowing what will be happening once each checkpoint reports back, you’re not sure you could even handle the look of any of them.

It’s been months since you’d been forced into those 4 suffocating walls you’d refused to call home, and though you’ve lost a lot of yourself, your fear of Negan lingered no matter how much you’d wanted it to evaporate and disappear like the parts of you before it. It’s been months since he held that goddamn bat against you, but it doesn’t matter. That fear ignites at the worst times, knotting up your stomach.

You loathe it, but you’re powerless against it.

Maybe you hate that fact more.

There seems to always be an ever-present smirk on his face whenever it comes to ‘settling shit’, the promise of making a show of his unwavering power dangling in front of him and ramping up his excitement with each passing moment. You can’t remember how many times you’ve sat in this seat - the last group was a while ago, you think, the place with the huge house at the top of that hill - but as Negan’s hum changes into a whistle, that stupid overwhelming fear shoots through you, taking over your body for a second and banging your knees against the door when you flinch away from him.

The knock reverberates through the truck, the enclosed space doing you no favours when you take a sharp inhale at the pain, but the whistling stops, the crush of asphalt and the squeak of his leather jacket taking over as he turns to look at you. 

“Oh, c’mon. Loosen up, princess. It’s not like this is your first time.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from responding to his poorly hidden double entendre and that stupid nickname which has wormed into his vocabulary. It was a joke - at least it was when it was a throwaway comment from Sherry after she had one too many sips of cheap vodka - but Negan seems especially inept when it comes to how close he thinks he is to you. He had pinpointed it and insisted upon it being some playful replacement of your actual name, and every fucking time he said it, you feel your blood start to simmer.

But you know what happens when you upset him.

He makes a show of it in front of the furnace, and you remember the pain which tears through you, but in private - a handful of Saviors for insurance and away from prying eyes, in front of his own stovetop and his squeaky cupboards and his hidden drawers - that’s what terrifies you. 

Actually, no. What scares you is the fact he can do all that and then act like it never happened.

He’d greet you in the morning like he was greeting an old friend, and just go on with his day.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Negan.”

Arat scoff does little to hide her smile - neither does he, an upwards curl of his lips before he turns away to do just that - and you let out a breath, shifting in your seat in an attempt to regain your bearings. It’s like walking on eggshells, each time you talk to him.

He’s volatile.

One day he’d brush it off with a laugh, but some days he would pin you into place with a look, and you’d go to bed with one more bandage than you’d had the night before. But he’s mellowed out since you’d first met him; either old age is taking its toll or he’s become comfortable in the status quo he’d hammered in with swings of Lucille and burnt faces by the iron.

“Well, shit, who pissed in your cereal this morning?”

You let the question linger, and Negan peels into the gravel-faced clearing before you can let silence fully steal the space between the three of you. He slams the brakes as he turns into his spot, and it sends your body forward. You barely have time to lift your hands to brace for the stop, but you manage enough, your forearms pressing against the dashboard.

“Whoops,”

He pulls the keys from the ignition then, pulling a laugh from his chest before you hear a click from between the two of you, and he gets out, resting his arms against the top edge of the truck before leaning in with a wide smirk.

“Guess you should’a worn your seatbelt.”

Asshole.

You’re not sure at what point your abrasion had distorted in his head into banter, but, frankly, it pisses you off. It pisses you off because he couldn’t be more obvious with the fact he doesn’t think of you as a threat. As far as he’s concerned, you’re some angry chihuahua he’s ultimately got control over. Angry as all hell, but harmless at the end of the day. The more you think about it, the more it pisses you off, and though your mouth opens in the beginning of a retort, Simon’s static voice breaks through before you can form anything further. 

The group reached checkpoint C first.

“Pass me that, won’t you?” 

Grabbing the walkie-talkie from the cupholder, you chuck it at him without another thought, turning to open your side’s door as it hits his chest with a thump, and he even laughs at that, not missing a beat before the push-to-talk is engaged and his voice rumbles into the microphone. 

They reach a second checkpoint not much longer, the chained-up rotted soon after that, and radio silence follows after they reach the wall of burning trees. It must have freaked them out - it was Simon, after all, whose voice was the first and last they’d heard. They would have had to have known something was coming at this point, even if his presence at the flames was purely by chance. 

Sooner or later, they were gonna get sloppy. They were gonna get nervous - get desperate, and slip up - and they have no fucking clue what’s in store for them.

As the sun inches under the horizon, you sip nervously from your water bottle, the carabiner attached to its lid tinking against metal as your hand shakes. The Saviors had started getting into position just after sunset - an order that was barked by Negan echoed by Laura when she’d decided they were moving out a little too slow - but you’re stuck in place, your heart pounding in your chest and a lump in your throat that you can’t get down no matter how hard you try.

You’re leant behind a car, Arat sat in the driver's seat as she absentmindedly toys with the safety on her pistol, and you’re thankful for the Virginian night. It hides the shaky breaths visible from the chill after an unfamiliar RV pulls into the clearing, and it hides the flash of panic that crosses your face when Simon pulls out someone you can’t quite make out in the dark.

It’s starting.

You don’t know how many people are in the group. You’re sure Negan has told you - that big mouth of his never quite shuts up between the orders he gives you and the monologues he considers ‘conversation’ - but you never listen.

It can’t just be him, though, you’re sure of it. One man can’t have caused him to go all on the offensive like this.

Negan’s sat in that red-lined RV now, a short conversation with Simon wrapping up with a wolfish grin shot in your direction before slinging Lucille over his shoulder and waltzing into the open door, and you clip your water bottle back onto your belt, rubbing your temples to try and forget it.

It feels so pointless, every time you’re dragged to one of these stupid confrontations. You don’t even do anything here. You don’t grab automatics to ‘get shit done’ - you don’t douse cut-down trees in lighter fluid or tie up the infected for some sick psychological torture - you’re just some spectator in all this.

Every time Negan looks at you like that, that expression wiping across his face like that night you’d first met him, it’s like a taunt. It’s like he knows, even without making you kneel next to the squelch and crush of a head, that he can make you break out in a cold sweat and make you remember the fear that coursed through your veins when you had been.

You hate that he’s right.

When you hear the first few whistles, your hair stands at the back of your neck, and you try to blink away the first few tears threatening your vision. The Saviors are close - they have to be, even grouped up, whistles can’t get that loud - and as the two tones get even closer, you close your eyes and lean forward, putting your head between your knees as you prop yourself up against the trunk of the sedan. 

It was only a matter of time before they were caught. 

In the position you’re in, you urge your bloodflow to your brain in hopes that maybe - just maybe - it’ll work well enough that it won’t make you think of the first time you’d heard those sounds. You hope that it’ll melt the ice lining your muscles, but you don’t have to hope any longer when the lights of the parked cars turn on, breaking you out of your spiral with the momentary flash of white as you squint your eyes to adjust to the brightness. 

Despite the pain at your temples when you stare into the lit clearing, you’re thankful for it. It reminds you you’re here, not in a long-buried memory, and though you hate being here, you hate being there even more.

But you know this weirdly settled thankfulness won’t last long. As you watch them get onto their knees, whatever’s left of your morals are screaming at you to do something try to stop the way Negan swings open the door and waves Lucille like he’s at some pissing contest, but you know it won’t do anything. You know you can’t do anything.

You’re not sure if savior complex is the right word for what you’re feeling, but it feels funny when you’re in this type of situation.

There’s always an illusion of help - that maybe if you screamed loud enough or just spoke some stubbornly-ignored reason, you could be able to stop him - but you know you can’t. As the first bash of Lucille breaks skull, you know there’s no way to stop him. He swings and swings and swings, and it’s so silent save for the group’s sobbing and the constant thunk of his strikes.

You’re not close to them at all - the length of a car and several people separate you from the group - but you can see them well enough when you turn your head, your heart hammering against your ribs when you recognize that one of them is a kid and one of them looks so pale that she might pass out at any given second. The headlights illuminate them like some sort of demented spotlight, Negan’s shadow distorting across their bodies and their bloodshot eyes as he lingers the bat in front of one of them for too long.

You know what he’s getting at - he’s testing their fear, he’s testing how much more he needs to push before they crack and run back to their community with their tails between their legs - and you remember when you were there, a different type of acquiescing running through your mind. You knew you couldn’t do anything when you were the one knelt on hard ground. You knew that there were too many guns pointed at you and there was too much violence in Negan’s eyes.

The only people who would act on that impulse would be the stupidest people in the-

Holy shit. 

The only people who would act on that impulse are here. Or, at least one of them was.

He swung at Negan - that man who had blood running down his chest and blood covering his hands - made hard contact with the corner of one of Negan’s cheeks, and though he’s subdued in almost an instant, you can’t look away. An odd sense of fascination keeps your eyes glued to the scene in front of you.

You don’t remember the last time anyone’s swung at Negan - let alone at a lineup - and you can’t help the spark of a long-forgotten hope that sparks within you.

He’s brave, that much is obvious. 

But still, he’s stupid as all hell, held down to the ground as Dwight points a crossbow at him, staring straight at the barrel of it like a trapped animal, and you watch them drag him back into place, a sick feeling crawling into when Negan rises back to his feet.

You know what’s coming. You were on the receiving end of this once, too.

You know defiance gets you nothing except another grave to dig.

And though you’re expecting it, your hands balled into fists at your sides as if to somehow cushion the consequences of not looking away, you still recoil when Negan brings Lucille down on a different man.

It’s different, this time. This man doesn’t use his last bit of consciousness for a well-deserved ‘fuck you’ to Negan. He uses it to tell someone that he’ll ‘find her’ - holds on to his coherence and fights the rushing blood and pain to try and get out more - but he can’t, Negan’s voice filling the space with a mock of sympathy.

Then he swings again, and your stomach feels like it’s folding in on itself, rushing up your throat and through your lips. You turn back away from the scene, hoping that it’ll erase you from whatever the hell is going on, but it doesn’t and in a split second, you’re throwing up. Everything you’ve just seen finally catches up with you and you’re really throwing up, but nothing is coming out except pieces of a granola bar and the ocean of water you’d tried to calm yourself with.

It hits the line between the gravel and the sparse grass, and you take a step back to avoid it, but nausea hits you like a wave and makes you stumble. The trunk of the sedan stops you from moving any further, and you place a hand on it to steady yourself before taking a step to the side and then another, leant forward with your arm in front of you until you can brace on a tree.

Jesus Christ, did you really manage to forget the reality of this? Did you really manage to forget how the air smells when it’s tinged with this much fresh blood? Or how fucking haunting the sound of so many people crying is?

It seems you have - at least, you forgot how overwhelming it was - and you’re not sure if you’re furious or happy that you have.

But now you remember. You remember kneeling and your ribs stinging with each breath you took. You remember the smell of your friend’s blood coming from right next to you. You remember the way your eyes burnt from all your crying and the way your chest hurt with each sob that ripped through you. You remember it all, down to each blade of grass.

Stop overreacting.

There’s always that voice in you that berates when moments like these happen. It curls its lips up in disgust at the fact you’ve let yourself become so terrified, and you loathe yourself for it, a reminder of how it had all gone wrong that day and how you’d let it. It speaks tenfold, the image of that man even just trying to swing at Negan sharpening its words to a point and cutting you with its disappointment. 

Even though you try to convince yourself you’re not there anymore, it all feels so real that you can’t help but spiral.

God, you’re such a fucking- 

“Hey! Hey, y’alright?”

You’re not sure how long you’d spent lent on that poor tree, the intensity pulling you from reality, but it doesn’t matter because, when Arat places her hand on your shoulder, you flinch away, stumbling on your shaky legs. It feels like it’s been ages - your mouth is cotton and your ears are ringing - but it can’t have been long, the sun barely starting to rise.

“Yeah, fine. Great. I’m great.”

Wiping your mouth with your sleeve, you ease yourself back into a stand, blinking hard before looking around and ignoring the suspecting squint of Arat’s eyes. You’re pretty far out, a couple meters past the closest vehicle, and when you spot the pistol strapped to her thigh, you can’t help but wonder if you could just go. 

If you just reached down and took it - if you just concentrated enough pressure to one spot at the side of her head - would she be knocked unconscious, giving you the opening to run?

But you know you can’t. Well-aimed pistol whips barely knock people out as it is, and you haven’t eaten anything substantial since the day started. There was no way you’d be able to do it. The second you bolt, Arat would tackle you. Even if you knocked her out, you wouldn’t make it far, your legs would give up as if they knew he would end up finding you.

He always does.

“Here, eat this.”

A tiny plastic packet is pressed into your palm before she steps back, grabbing your arm and dragging you back towards the clearing. With the darkness ebbing away, the headlights have been turned off, and you can see everything without its blaring harshness.

The scene looks even sadder in natural lighting - tracks of dried tears and slumped shoulders lined up one by one - and all of them refuse to move their heads from where they’re frozen.

But one of them is missing.

Leaning against the sedan, you rip open the packet with your teeth, your fingers still lacking feeling from what Arat had caught you in just moments ago, and you try not to look at the center of the clearing as you force down the crackers.

It’s then when you notice the RV is gone, and it’s then when you realize Negan’s gone too.

It doesn’t take long to connect the dots, and when you finally glance back over to them, you finally figure out who’s missing.

He’s the leader, then - curly hair and fur-lined jacket.

Break him, and everyone falls in line.

The sun comes up soon, lighting the clearing through the gaps between heavy-set trees, and the RV peels in not long after. You watch with the same pit in your stomach when Negan pulls him out by the back of his collar, and as he yells his demand of him to chop off his son’s arm off - as he stops him before he really does it - everyone knows that, whatever Negan had set out to do, he must have done it.

Dwight loads the man who punched Negan into the van he’d come out of - and he shifts his weight when he gets in, swaying like an animal trying to escape - and you find yourself curious about him. You watch as Negan leans in just a foot away to talk to their leader before rising back onto his feet, and you learn that the man’s name is Daryl.

And as much as you hate agreeing with Negan, he really does look like a Daryl.

“We'll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then, ta-ta.”

He throws their axe over his shoulder, a nonchalance in his gait, and he’s quick to hop back into the truck he drove over, letting out a theatrical sigh as if to say ‘all in a day's work’ without actually saying something. Though, knowing him, he’d probably love it if his voice carried for a moment more.

You contemplate where to go as you watch everyone start to disperse - if you’d asked, would Dwight be willing to let you sit shotgun in the car he’s keeping Daryl? Or should you follow to wherever Arat is going and try to figure out a way to thank her for the saltines that have settled your stomach for the time being? - but you don’t have time to move your feet before you hear a familiar voice calling your name and banging against the car roof.

“Get on in, princess.”

Negan sticks his head through the driver’s seat window, and you pull your lips into a line before taking a deep breath and turning your feet in his direction. He’s looking at you with an easy smile, but you keep your eyes on the ground instead, walking behind the wall of cars to mitigate some of the embarrassment you feel at any type of association with Negan.

You look over at the group before pulling at the passenger side handle, and some of them are looking back at you. The woman who had spoken up is studying you, so is their leader and the kid and two of the other women, and you feel shame course through you at their glares. You tear your eyes away from them and blink harshly before hitting the seat, and you slam the door shut, taking a deep breath as you refuse to look at Negan as he barks orders through the open window.

You watch them as all of the Saviors loads back up, and you can’t stop yourself from wondering if this was what you looked like on that night, too. Was this what you would have looked like on that soccer field if he hadn’t taken you before the sun rose? 

You can’t blame them for it, though.

Because it’s your fault for letting him push you around like this, isn’t it?

Because you’re so scared of being out there alone, you’d do anything to survive, wouldn’t you?

Because he’s scarred you enough times for you to think like that, hasn’t he?

Swallowing hard, you try to stop that stupid voice from running by pulling your legs up to your chest and tapping a lazy rhythm onto your shin. It’s comforting. It reminds you of the world before - when you’d slaved over schoolwork to it playing mindlessly out of your old cassette player - but also of how things were before you met Negan, its tune playing through that rusty old vinyl player you’d dug up.

You hadn’t heard it since. 

“Hey, your little… blegh, during the shit that went down, you alright?”

Your eyebrows meet in the middle of your forehead as you turn to look at him, trying to figure out if there was some hidden motive behind what he’d just said only to conclude that there doesn’t seem to be. 

“Yeah, fine. Doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Your face relaxes as you speak, and you shake your head to try and convince him to drop it. Turning back towards the window, you study the trees as they pass by once again, and it feels like you’re back in yesterday, blurs of green the same way they’d been when he’d driven you to the clearing. There’s some peace to be found in the colour, but he breaks it before it settles.

“Go see the doc when we get back.”

It turns out that your response just wasn’t convincing enough for him, so he tells you what to do, and you think about how this is always how it is with him. You think about how it’s never a suggestion - how you never get a say - and how it’s always an order you’re just expected to follow.

Guess you’re clocking into your shift earlier than expected.

“You got some boyfriend I don’t fucking know about or something?”

Scrunching your nose at his digging, you give him a curt response - ‘I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re implying’ - and when he speaks again, you can hear the way a corner of his lips turns up.

“You haven’t been screwing around?”

You don’t dignify him with an answer.

Instead, you let an emptiness linger as you chew at the inside of your cheek, wondering if you really should say what’s hanging on the tip of your tongue. It could get you in trouble - no, it could get you in a shit ton of trouble - but you do it anyways, some feeling gnawing at you to take a hint from that Daryl guy and just be brave for once.

“You didn’t have to kill the Asian guy.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“I let you get away with a lot of shit, y’know that?”

Then panic comes - it drips slowly, down from your hairline and stings from your forehead down to your chin - but you stave it off before it can shake your voice.

“I’m just saying that you-“

He interrupts with a raise of his gloved hand, the pieces of dried blood on it cracking with the open and close of his first, and for that second where you think he might hit you, you flinch away by instinct, pinching your eyes closed to brace for it. 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it, but the impact never comes.

“If you were one of the limp-dicks out there, I would’ve thrown you in a cell for questionin’ my goddamn authority.”

Instead, he places his hand back on the steering wheel with a small smile, his words making you let out a breath, and you find yourself listening more intently than you care to admit. 

“But that’s why I like you, isn’t it, princess?”

Your jaw strains at the stupid nickname, but the playfulness that’s wormed into his words makes your tensed shoulders relax just the slightest. 

“Pullin’ me back and really putting shit into perspective when that shit needs it. I like that, keeps me in line. It shows you’re really lookin’ out for the future of this place.”

It takes all the strength in you not to scoff, but some of it slips out, a tiny huff followed by a twist of your lips, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand that it’s definitely not a smile. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows you’re not looking out for the Sanctuary or the Saviors when you find the courage to mouth back at him. Why else would he keep dragging you out to shit like this?

It’s to keep you in line, you’re sure of it. It’s to keep you in line as if reminding you of that night would keep you locked in your room and stuck where he wanted you. He’d dragged you back to the Sanctuary one too many times for him to just not care about you anymore.

“It was just- it was just unnecessary, Negan. If you liked the balls on the guy who punched you, you could’ve just taken him and left and ended everything there. You didn’t have to kill the Asian guy or do any of the stuff you did afterwards, either.”

The breath that escapes his mouth as a barely-audible whistle, his frown oddly approving before he questions you. His voice isn’t condescending or accusatory, you don’t think, but there’s a dangerous edge to it, like something could go wrong if you answered it wrong. 

“You know what they did, right?”

But you don’t have the right answer, so you just don’t say anything. 

“They ambushed the whole fucking satellite station! Killed every one of them! The blood’s on their hands, so I would say it was pretty fuckin’ courteous of me not to cut off their dicks and kill every last one of ‘em, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t find the words to refute that - not when his voice rises enough for the vibrations to run through the car and work their way into your bones, or when he gestures with that same gloved hand that’s done more than its fair share of things to hurt you - but even if you did, he gives you no time to respond, anyways.

“So you still wanna debate morals, princess? ‘Cause I don’t think you understand the whole damn scope of what they did.”

His voice drops down, but it doesn’t hide his irritation, and you swallow down the spit that’s made home in your throat. Nobody told you what that group did, but you think you know why, biting down the smile pulling at your cheeks. 

They’re the only ones to have tried it and done it successfully.

“Yeah, I guess I don’t.”

The rest of the drive is silent.

[eccentricallygothic]

i am sorry but arat's execution was so fucking lame. the gang needed oceanside and they're a good ally but i do not like them. esp the stupid little girl in charge. and i am not really liking maggie much this season either. do one thing or the other ffs decide once and for all which way you want to go instead of dangling half cocked between two extremes. everyone wants to choose rick to avoid responsibility when it comes to it but then they keep going behind his back. a bunch of assholes, the whole lot of them. i also love how the rules bend to accommodate the gang but for everyone else they're the law. arat was RIGHT. simon would have killed her and things were different then. now is now. THATS THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT! like out of all the saviors her and that blonde girl laura i think are the only ones who were fr. i hate how the gang gives every other despicable fuck multiple chances but not the people who truly deserve them. for the bitching they do about moving forward they sure like to deep throat the past a whole fucking lot. we will follow rick. oh no ricks rules aren't the only rules. then something goes wrong they go crying to rick and following him again only for the same fucking cycle to continue. BULLSHIT. no hindsight no nothing. a bunch of idiots. dumbasses like them won't last more than a few days if twd was real. also it was not really ricks place to let negan live in the first place because we all know how he gets when someone hurts his family. the writing for this show is un-fucking-real and in a bad way. also jesus was maggies moral compass when he didn't need to be all throughout season 8 and now he suddenly decides he can't say anything to her??? they're all hypocrites. they keep chasing their own tails like total dumbasses and can't make up their minds or be fr for shit.

[ravenrose18]

My Personal Savior

Chapter 3- Reunion in Ruin

Raven sees all the men come out of the building and a woman backs away from the gate and holds her hands up she only has a pistol, a set of knives, and a crossbow with a backpack of course. She keeps her head down, barely showing her face she keeps her hands up

"I was just looking for shelter. I didn't know this place was occupied it looked abandoned." She says softly, glancing up with her icy blue eyes looking around her, not knowing what's going to happen next.

Even though Raven was keeping her hands up and away from her weapons, Arat remained on high alert. After everything that she and the Saviors had faced during the apocalypse, she couldn't help but be cautious. One wrong choice could compromise everything that they had worked so hard for.

Arat's eyes scanned over the new face once more, taking note of how shy and nervous Raven seemed. Of course, anyone would react that way with a gun in their face, but she was still a little worried that Raven might have other intentions than just settling down."You're looking for shelter?" She repeated, her voice expressing her skepticism, "Who told you that we were letting people in?"

Raven looks up at her keeping her hands up and shakes her head "Nobody I just saw this place and thought it was abandoned I thought I could take shelter here I don't mean to be a bother or a threat of any kind but I only hurt people if they threatened me or intend to hurt me. But you're trying to stay on guard, and I get it. I have been alone this whole living in the woods and finding whatever shelter or food I can." She says softly

Arat listened closely to what Raven said. As sincere as it seemed, she still wasn't quite sure about how to regard her.

"How do we know that you're telling the truth? I mean, staying alone this entire time? You didn't join a group even once?" She had just begun to open her mouth to speak again, but before a single word could be uttered, something interrupted her. It was a whistle, a simple one with just two notes. A high note to a low note, a brief pause, then the same thing over again.

As innocent as it seemed, the men's fierce expressions lightened, fear shining in their eyes. They lowered their weapons and moved away from the gate, giving room to whoever was approaching. A deep, grave voice chuckled before speaking up. "Arat, is that any way to be speaking to our guests?" Soon, Negan strolled up to the gate, curious about what the fuss was all about. His trademark grin was stretched across his lips. Lucille was casually lying upon his shoulder, her polished barbed wire glistening in the fading sunlight. His eyes didn't look at the visitor just yet. Instead, he turned his gaze to Arat.

Arat sighed, avoiding his eyes for a moment before eventually making eye contact. "Sorry, Boss. You can't be too careful these days."

"The hardworking people of the Sanctuary are what makes this whole operation. Remember that the next time you try to turn down the miracle of an eager, able-bodied person who saunters up to our gates." Though he didn't raise his voice, it was clear that she got the message. Arat nodded, apologizing once more before taking a step back.

Raven closes her eyes, and then she hears the whistle she looks at the men, and then the woman, At their reaction and noticing the man walking up he must be the leader/ boss of this place.

But once Raven heard that voice, she couldn't believe her ears she thought she never hear his voice again, let alone see him again. After she left once she found out bout Lucille's diagnosed cancer she had to get out of there she didn't want to come between her and Negan while they figured out everything Raven even knew about Negan cheating on Lucille but never said anything. She tries to stay strong and act like she doesn't know him yet. After she went back home to kill her parents after the apocalypse started, she went back to Negan's house, and it was burnt to the ground she didn't know if Negan was still alive or not. She just stood there looking down as the hood covered her face, and she kept her hands up. Negan turned his eyes away from Arat, placing his full, undivided attention on Raven. He didn't recognize her yet, due to her face being hidden from sight. "Sorry about that, sweetheart. You'll have to excuse my dear friend, Arat, here. She's a fiery one." He spoke with a grin. After a moment, he glanced her over, taking note of the weapons that he could see. Although, he didn't seem too bothered by them, for his bravado never wavered. He took a small step forward, leaning into the step a little. "So, I overheard that you want to join our little group. Well, you are more than welcome to skip your merry way in, but that's only if you're willing to work like everyone else here. You pull your part, and you'll get food, a place to lay your weary head, and protection from everything out there that wants to kill you." He moved his hand a little to hold Lucille a little more comfortably before continuing to speak. "Now, to me, that sounds like a damn good deal.

So, what do you say?"Raven glances up slightly at him she sees his face and recognizes him immediately she is in shock but she doesn't want to get in the way or be a distraction for him being a leader here maybe they get alone later and catch up. "I'm willing to help in any way I can. I know how to scavenge, hunt, track, and I know how to defend myself, and I know how to kill." She says softly as she puts her hands down and starts messing with her necklace. When she is nervous or starts getting anxious, it helps her calm down. She hopes Negan hasn't changed a lot to where it's a different Negan than who she once knew before the apocalypse, but everybody changes because the apocalypse makes people do crazy and unthinkable things. He watched her glance up but didn't quite catch her facial features. From what he could tell, she seemed a little familiar, but he didn't think too much of it. After all, he could have seen her at some neighboring community while on a supply run. People from other communities had joined them before. His smile brightened as he heard her list her talents.

She was exactly the type of person that they needed. "Well, then. What are we waiting for? Let the poor girl in." He looked to one of the men, who, without a moment of hesitation, opened up the gate for her to walk inside. Negan's eyes trailed back over to her before landing on the pendant as she messed with it, his smile fading slightly. It was the same necklace he had given Raven. His eyes jumped from the necklace over to her face, but unfortunately, he couldn't see it. Then the sinking feeling hit. If this wasn't Raven, then how would the girl get that necklace? Of course, she could have just bought one similar before the outbreak. Negan momentarily pushed the thought of the necklace aside. He'd ponder on it later when he was alone. He forced his smile right back, waiting for her to walk into the Sanctuary. The old Negan was still in there, but he was overshadowed by what he'd become. Now and then, the old him would slip out, but it wasn't often.

Raven smiles softly and nods as she walks past the gate and looks around her she is going to keep her guard up she may have been invited in by Negab but that doesn't mean she will trust anybody she follows Negan into the building she needs to get alone with him she doesn't want their reunion to be witnessed by everyone in his group. "Do you mind showing me around and maybe if it's okay to clean up umm... I like to have a moment alone with the leader of this group to know what is accepted and the rules." She says

They immediately closed the gate behind her. A few stayed there to keep guard in case of anyone else, but everyone else began to disperse to do their own thing. A group of 5 stayed with her and Negan as they walked into the sanctuary, acting as guards in case anything were to go wrong.

Negan didn't seem fazed in the slightest by the requests. After all, that was normal stuff that he had heard every single time, just delivered differently. However, the last bit piqued his interest. His brows raised and he stopped in place, flipping around to face her. He leaned back a little, his mouth slightly agape. A scoff of amusement escaped his lips before he smiled once again. "Well, that's a new one. Usually, Laura is the one to tell the rules since people are too scared to ask me themselves, but this is a breath of fresh air. Finally, someone with some guts from the get-go." He stood upright once more, before looking to the followers. He gave a gesture with his hand for them to disperse, and though a little reluctant, they did as they were told. Once they had left, Negan put his attention back on her. "So, what does the lady of the hour want to do first?"

Raven smiles and giggles "How bout we talk in private first in your room? I don't feel comfortable being around so many people and I might as well talk to the man himself and know who I'm putting my trust and life to. I don't trust people easily and like I told Arat I was alone this whole time that's why I never was in a group." She says

Negan looked even more surprised by the request, his smile brightening. Whoever this was, Raven or not, he already had respect for. No one in that Sanctuary was brave enough to be completely alone in the same room with him. Even his second in command, Simon, feared Negan at times. However, a possible stranger was willing to put themselves in a vulnerable situation, having only just arrived there. That either meant that they were crazy, or extremely brave. Either way, he saw that as a win. "Well, shit. This just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?" He gestured for her to follow him, before beginning to make the journey to his room. His worn, black cowboy boots echoed on the concrete floor as he walked.

Raven smiles and walks with him toward his room she knows as soon as she gets in that room with him she is going to reveal herself to him by taking off her jacket since her body is covered in scars from all the abuse she has gone through with tattoos he is sure going to recognize her. She may think this might be a bit of a weird request and whoever is nearby watching might think she is crazy but if Negan was going to hurt her to show he is a leader and show people to fear him then she might as well show she is not afraid of him or anyone. She was getting warm with her leather jacket so she unzipped it showing a black tank top underneath. She wore black ripped jeans with combat boots. She was surprised to find the boots in a store to replace her old ones.

It didn't take too long for them to reach his room. Inside, it looked like some kind of hotel suite. A Queen size bed with a fancy gray comforter and matching pillows, realistic fake plants, wicker lampshades on floor lamps, two designer armchairs with a triangle pattern embroidered on the fabric, extravagant vases, and a pronghorn's head mounted on the wall. Other than that, there was a leather couch, a glass coffee table, a modern shelf filled with books, some fancy rugs, a stereo, and a few other things. He stood aside from the door, gesturing for her to enter the room ahead of him. "Ladies first."

Raven looks at him and smiles as she walks into his room as she looks around she takes off her backpack and sets it beside the couch. Raven has her back towards him and she takes off her jacket and puts it on the back of the couch and she stretches. "Oh, your room is very nice. Man, it feels good to let my skin breathe I never take my jacket off." She says as she looks down at the tattoo she got with Negan on her forearm.

Next Chapter

@integra1127 @integra1127grimmreaper @jdmorganz @jdm-negan-mcnaughty-blog @justjdm @jdeanmorgan @jwritesfanfics @justjdm @negansource @negans-girl-blog @negans-dirty-girl @negandarylsatisfaction @negangifs @jdm-traash @jdmslut-red @jdmorganstuff @girlwiththenegantattoo @ghostwriter2203 @a-woman-with-claws-and-fangs @naughtyneganjdm @naughty-negan @naughty-negan-clan @naturallynegan @neganbabygirl @fanfictilltheend @neganandjdm @neganappreciation-blog @neganandtonyswife @neganandblake @neganandstevensdoll-blog @savedpeople @sanctuaryforthelost @jdmswh0re @jdms-flat-ass @jdmsimp @twdxtrevor @jdmorganstuff @jdmslut-red @jdm-traash @jeffreydaddydeanmorgan @jeffreydeanmorganconfession-blog @jeffreydeanmorgantrash @jeffrey-daddy-morgan @negansource @negans-girl-blog @negandarylsatisfaction @negangifs @sanctuaryforthelost

[gh0stwritter23]

✑ This Is For Us x Negan x OC

warnings: threatening, swearing, mention of torture, Negan itself is already a warning, my bad English

Part 3

Rick appears and Negan sneaks out putting his arms around my shoulders.

– Rick while I was here with my darling Jessie, I wondered if we’re gonna find all the guns back there? Or if maybe you got a few just waitin’ for their moment…- Negan says teasingly

– They're all in there, as far as I know. —Rick responds in the repressive

— I'm counting on that Rick — the man replies smiling, and lets go of me going to the truck outside — I think this deal is going very well — he says taking one of the guns that Daryl carries — Let's see if you’ve been taking care of my guns — Negan says pointing the gun at Daryl, my body goes into a frenzy, I accepted the deal, he won't kill him, he can’t, but luckily Daryl goes straight back to the armory and Negan hits the window of the nearest house, breaking it and laughing heartily — Feels good! Sounds good! Oh, I do believe Lucille’s gettin’ a little jealous.

Right in time, the Californian-haired Arat brings Olivia roughly dragged by her arm and throws her in front of us. I secure her by the arm.

— Arat, we don't do that unless they do something to deserve it — Negan scolds

— Yeah, we went through the inventory… they’re short. — she says playing Olivia and takes the book with the historics and hands it to Negan — A Glock 9 and a 22 Bobcat

Me and Rick look at each other blankly and Negan looks at us

— Is that true? — he asks

— We had some people leave town — Rick says — Those guns probably went with them.

— So Olívia sucks at her job. Is that what are you saying?

— No. No, I’m not saying that…— Rick answer

— There should be a full accounting here, right? Top to bottom. Am i right?

— No — she replies nervously. — I mean, yes. The inventory is correct.

— Good. But not so good, too. You see, what’s in here… isn’t in there. — he points to the arsenal — you’re two handguns short. Do you know where they are?

— No. I… — she tries

— That's disappointing Rick, this shows that someone’s not on board, and I can't have that." — he looks at Olivia with pity — I don't enjoy killing women. - he says and my heart sinks, Olivia has nothing to do with this... - Men… I can waste them all the live long. But in the end of the day, Olivia, my dear, this was your responsibility.

— Look, we can work this out... —Rick says

— Oh, yes, we can. And I’m going to, right now. — he says and turns to Olivia, as she tries to control her tears. “This was your job, and you screwed up. Keeping track of guns? That shit… is life and death. Find it by sundown, or she dies — He speaks calmly looking suggestively at Rick as if offering advice, while I take Olivia by the shoulders and turn her away to Negan trying to help her calm down and ward off the tears. And then heading to Negan.

— Killing her won't make a difference. I try to tell Negan, — It's not going to bring the weapons back, or make them appear. She is innocent. Do you think someone can control everything that happens here? That you can go and kill our people and everyone will just accept?

— And who are you to say anything to him? — Arat gets involved

— Someone who didn't call you out in the conversation — I answer back and Arat points the gun at me, making me give a dry laugh — With a gun in my hand I would be pretty badass too.

— Hey Hey Hey, Arat, let's take it easy— Negan smiles — As much as I love a woman's fight, I don't want you to hurt this pretty face, she's mine— he replies and she puts the gun back, glaring at me one last time. — And one more thing, doll, a new rule. You don't challenge my Saviors okay? — he asks and I don't answer I just keep glaring at Arat and come back to myself when Negan grabs my face tightly turning it towards him and raises his eyebrows demanding the answer

— Okay — I reply grumpily to him.

— I like that way, obedient women. — he says — And relax, she's not going to die, it's just to encourage Rick to find my weapons, understand? Put someone's ass in the fire and watch them do all you want - says smiling and going to talk to another Savior. And I go back to Olivia.

— What did he mean by..

— Ignore it Olivia, everything will be fine, nothing will happen to you... I promise...

"If a guy tries to mess with you, it doesn't matter if he's Chuck Norris, I'll take him down." Merle once told me and the sudden thought made me laugh, I don't doubt Merle would have cross punches with Negan on the first move near me.

But Merle nor Daryl are here to defend me now, it's time to fend for myself

Not after a long time Rick finally showed up with the damn guns

— See Olivia, it's over, everything's fine... —I say comforting her while the Saviors put all the weapons in the truck and close the door, and then go to the gate and Rick asks to have a word with Michonne who was outside .

— Couple fights are so hard — Negan says by my side. “L— Tell me we won't have so many? Or that they will all end up in bed? — he asks me and I just roll my eyes as I see Michonne walking back with a dead deer on her shoulders.

Rick goes slowly to Negan and asks the same thing as me, Daryl, it wouldn't happen, but he surprised me by asking Daryl, who just flinched and looked down. Fear...ah brother, what have they been doing to you...

— Let's go — Negan said happily going to the trailer and stretching his hand to help me get into, I just looked at Alexandria, everyone looked at me without clue, and Rick didn't understand. Carl was looking at me with a mixture of confusion and hatred. — Jessie? — Negan says my name, getting my attention. In another truck where Daryl was waiting to get up, I saw him turn to me and shake his head nervously. “Don’t do that”

“Sorry,” I hissed at Daryl and took Negan's hand to walk in and sat down on one of the couches inside the trailer.

Sorry Daryl, this is for us

— Oh I forgot a little something — Negan says going to get Lucille with Rick — Didn't think I'd leave her with you, did you? —Rick doesn't respond and Negan walks back to the trailer sitting across from me and I just turn my attention to the window next to me.

This time there was no Daryl to save me or escape me through the window of the world so that nothing would harm me like he did when Dad came home drunk, I would have to deal with the villains alone now. My brother has protected and saved her so many times, now is the time for me to give back. And I had this in mind the whole time.

A movement in my legs woke me from my thoughts, and I realized where I was. Negan kept staring at me from across the table

- What are you doing? — I asked

— Trying to imagine what we'd discover without these trucker clothes — he says, smiling at me. — It's a shame Daryl isn't here to see it.

In a moment of confusion I just got up and only regained true consciousness when I had just turned my hand over his face. I withdrew my hand sticking it to my body scared, I didn't know what I had done, so I looked at Negan, he looked ecstatic, he just rubbed his face where I'd hit it, I tried to formulate any sentence, but nothing came out. He got up to my level and pulled me by the forearm until his face was right next to mine.

— He'll have time, you tortured him enough, don't you think? — I scold feeling his breath on my face.

Daryl won't be able to defend me from this one, I thought. When Negan raised his hand I already predicted the slap that was coming and I recoiled, closing my eyes and hiding my face. But the slap or pain never came, in fact he just raised his hand to hit it on the table and started laughing. He really is crazy. But he stops laughing when he looks at me, huddled in front of him, as if he hadn't noticed me before.

— I would never hurt a woman —he says, looking shocked by my reaction — not like that — I tried to speak, defend myself, but the momentary courage had already disappeared from the room and nothing could come out of my mouth — I understand, I killed your friends and I torture your brother, and now I try a heavy flirtation — he says something unbelievable — But actually I was joking when I mentioned that — he says — And besides, you point an arrow at me and now slaps me in the face.. .Don't think that next time you won't escape just because you have that pretty face. It will not happen again, right? — he asks and I just nod my head — you really don't have love for your life, and unfortunately you're just like your brother... you both need to put your fucking nose down — he says running his finger across my nose — and you need to learn when they are at disadvantage. And you're at a goddam huge disadvantage sweetie

[sonofsaviors]

Plotted RP with @manhattanopus

The Savior caravan rumbled slowly down the road, a line of five vehicles; a large supply van, a couple of trucks, and a jeep trailing behind. Logan leaned against the window, stifling his yawns and letting the sound of Def Leppard fill the comfortable air between himself, Dad, Simon, and Arat.

Hopefully he wouldn't fall asleep on one of the lieutenants again. It wasn't his fault driving made him sleepy. But he had yet to live it down since the last time he had drooled on Simon's shoulder. But Simon usually tolerated Logan pretty well and had been cool with it.

Speaking of which.

"Boss, ya see that?"

Logan pushed his shoulder against the window, sitting up straighter to see a single figure on the road.

"Trap?" He asked, struggling back a yawn. Negan flashed his son a toothy grin.

"Let's go and fucking see."

[limeade-l3sbian]

I came across your reading arat from the saviors imagines in h.s post and what you said bout writers making imagines making more gender neutral and high key I agree lmaoooo

Like men do not have the imagination to create amazing writings lol. Like, I think the reason why girls and young women become transmen is bc the majority of t.v, movies, books, and anime have men mc's with male writers, etc. And bc of said male writers, the female characters lack and are sexualized while the male characters are more "relatable"

Just take heart stopper and young royals. Both boring male led series (who m.c's are gay) where has been set for season 2 while Dare me, the wilds, paper girls, and first kill, are all majority led female mc's who are lesbians and were canceled.

Like, no wonder women want to be men lmao.

oh absolutely! happens all too often. these women are faced with an unfortunate choice - do you want to be a character or a prop? and in that respect, why wouldn't you come to the conclusion that you're a man based on these tired tropes that have a real effect on women. representation truly does matter, no matter how small it may seem to those who are majorly represented.

[please-help-this-little-lesbian]

Every Savior AU needs:

Laura and Arat lesbian moms

Negan being a dad

Daddy issues

Wives content

Trauma

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

The saviors are just a bunch of lgbts let's be real.

[chaoticace2005]

(In a Savior Meeting)

Negan: Why doesn’t Rick like us? :(

Simon: Maybe he’s homophobic.

Eugene: That is improbably considering nobody here idenitifies as a homosexual.

Simon and Negan: *look at each other*

Dwight: *hiding pictures of Daryl in the vest he “borrowed” from Daryl*

Arat and Laura: *sitting on each other’s lap*

Regina: *looking at Eugene like he’s the fucking dumbass he is*

All of them: Yeah.......

[little-diable]

Last breath - Negan (angst/fluff)

Been writing on this for quite a while now. Enjoy. xxx

The song I’m mentioning is called “crash this train” by Joshua James. 

Word count: 2k+

Warning: mentions death and smut 

(Y/n) was going through all the different scenarios her mind could come up with, she was pretty sure, that she didn’t have much time left, the walkers were slowly encircling her. Groans were hallowing through the dark forest, her hands were calloused, legs were shaking, blood was dripping down from her lip, she was a mess. 

The sky was dark, it must have been around 7 pm by now, she lost track of time a long time ago. (Y/n)’s eyes wandered down to the watch on her wrist, it stopped working a few months back, but she never had the strength to pull it off, it had been a present from her grandma, something that reminded her of better times. 

(Y/n) had managed to find a community not too long ago, became friends with them, at least that’s what she liked to think, but as soon as they noticed, that (y/n) wasn’t one to follow meaningless rules and orders, they kicked her out, carried her out into the forest and left her to die. 

Death didn’t scare her, she wasn’t one to be blinded by her fears, liked to keep a clean head, to not think about the what ifs. She had a good soul, would give her life for her friends and family, not that she did have any left, she’d walk through hell and back for her people. 

Her fingers were tightly gripping her machete, (y/n) always had been a good fighter, she was able protect herself, she had to survive somehow after all. She was fast, knew how to move her body, where to hit the walkers, in order to stay alive. She tried to stay rational, mind wandering back to her previous training sessions with her dad, he had been a sheriff, knew how to shoot a gun and he also knew his way around a machete. 

“Never take your eyes off them, try to move as fast as you can.” His deep voice rang through her head, tears began to blur her vision, her dad had been her safe haven, her saving grace, her best friend, living without him by her side did hurt, every single day. Anger swapped over her, she didn’t have enough time with him, she’d do everything in that moment to hug him one last time. 

By now it was quite obvious, that there were too many walkers around, their groans shot shivers up her spine, (y/n) knew that her end was near, she knew that she would die in peace, ready to leave this earth behind. Not having to worry about her safety any longer, not having to think about finding food day in and out, didn’t sound as bad. 

The temperature began to drop, it was relatively cold for that time of the year, her leatherjacket couldn’t protect her any longer, (y/n) would either get eaten by the walkers or freeze to death. It was too dark to see any near by walkers, so (y/n) slowly sunk to her knees, eyes closed, hands not letting go of her weapon just yet. 

Suddenly her mind took her back to a Monday afternoon, a few years back, she was driving around town, sitting on the passenger side of her best friends car. Joshua James voice rang through the speakers, “Cuz if it dies in cold, when the clouds start to roll, is it then that your soul, starts to bleed.” The memory brought a smile onto her lips. (Y/n) could remember how carefree she felt in that moment, life had been easy, nothing major to worry about. The sun had been shining down on them, sun rays dancing across her face, tickling her nose, the sound of her best friends laughter made her chuckle.

Light rain began to fall down on her, thunder rumbled through the sky, lighting momentarily gave her a second to take in her surroundings. Eyes finding the dead, cold ones of a few walkers in the distance, her breath began to hitch in her chest, probably because her heart was currently fighting a losing battle. This was her end, (y/n) was sure of it. 

“Deep breaths my love.” Her moms voice reminded her once again, (y/n)s mind was taking her back to a better place, going through all her happy memories, a smile on her lips as she thought back to her life before the apocalypse. She felt content in that moment, ready to let go, if death would be this peaceful, (y/n) would be all in to finally take her last breath. 

Her mind began to play a few tricks on her, (y/n) could feel her mothers soft hand touching her cold cheeks, reassuring her that she wouldn’t leave her side, a tear left (y/n)s eye as she tried to touch her. Of course, she couldn’t really feel her mothers hand, but a wave of calmness overcame her, just as if her mother was standing right in front of her. 

“Don’t close your eyes, (y/n).” She couldn’t come up with the strength to fight against the will to let go any longer, (y/n) closed her eyes, she fell forward, cheeks pressed against the cold forest floor. “Just for a few minutes, mom,” left her lips, before finally giving into the darkness.

-----------------

He had been on one of his usual runs, trying to scavenge some food for his people, not talking about the bottles of whisky he liked to hide away for rough nights. It wasn’t unusual for him to walk around the forests near the sanctuary, of course with a few of his best fighters following him around, but Negan definitely didn’t expect to find a sleeping figure of a girl placed on the forest floor. 

She was too far gone to notice that somebody was nearing, her heartbeat began to slow down, she didn’t have much time left. His eyebrows were pulled together, wondering what the fuck she was doing. Why wasn’t she trying to save herself? Negan wasn’t used to seeing people giving up that easily. Something inside of him was telling him to save her. 

He crouched down next to her, feeling her fading pulse. “Fuck,” he checked her for any wounds and bite marks, as he couldn’t find any, he picked her up from the cold forest floor, threw her over his shoulder, walked towards the van that was parked a few feet away, killing some walkers here and there.

A scream left her lips as her eyes shot open, the way his shoulder was pressing into her abdomen, seemed to rip her out of her state. “Fuck, we don’t want to attract any unwanted attention, do we?” The voice made her shiver, breath hot against her neck, hand pressed over her mouth, now she realized that she was dangling over a strangers shoulder. 

(Y/n) couldn’t help but feel relieved, she was safe, at least for the moment, she felt too tired to struggle against his hold, not caring about any “stranger danger” her mom used to warn her about. “Don’t die on me doll.” Negan picked up his speed, basically jogging towards the van. 

She was shivering, her body was trembling against his hold, Negan wasn’t quite sure if it was because she was cold, or if she was scared of him. As much as an asshole he could be, Negan wanted her to feel safe around him, knowing that he wouldn’t let her die.

He placed her down on the passenger seat, not caring about the way her wet, dirty clothes were leaving stains on the seats, jogged around the car and managed to close the door just in time, escaping the walkers grip last minute. “Well, nice to meet you doll, I’m Negan, that’s Simon and Arat.” Just now (y/n) realized that a few other people were seated in the van, curious eyes watching her.

Her eyes rolled backwards, she breathed out a small whimper, her heart began to rapidly beat, she was going into shock. Negan wordlessly grasped the towel Simon pushed into his direction, trying to wipe away the blood from her chin and the cold sweat on her forehead. “Simon, you drive. Hurry, I don’t know how much time she has left.” He pulled her into the back of the van, placed in his lap, he desperately tried to keep her alive.  

-----------------

She woke up in an unfamiliar room, trying to locate where she was currently at, eyes finding green ones, “good morning, sleeping beauty.” A smile on Negan's lips as he sipped on his glass of whisky. “Where am I?” (Y/n) cringed at how raspy her voice sounded, she still felt tired, exhausted, not realizing that she had slept for hours on end.  

“At the sanctuary, place of my community. Welcome home doll.” He rose from the sofa, grabbed her a glass of water and placed himself next to her on the big bed. She couldn’t remember a day where water had tasted that good, (y/n) couldn’t stop herself from drowning the whole glass in one go, ignoring Negan's chuckles.

Carson had tried his best to save her, had to reanimate her a few times, (y/n) was a fighter, that was for sure. It would take her a few days to acclimatize herself, her body would need as much rest as possible, she almost had been dead for at least four times after all.

Negan wouldn’t leave her out of his sight, something about her pulled him in, he felt the need to take care of her, so he gave into his instincts, something he was quite good at. (Y/n) grew comfortable around him, would talk with him about god knows what, would laugh at his lame dad jokes, appreciating the way he was caring for her.

---------

It had been two weeks since that night, (y/n) had gotten her own room, only a few doors down from Negans, he told her to take it easy, to call him, if she’d need anything, secretly hoping, that she’d spend more time around him. The sanctuary already felt like home, (y/n) loved to walk around the garden, to help in the kitchen, putting her cooking skills to use. Negans eyes would watch her frame wander around the sanctuary, always keeping his posture, trying not to make it too obvious, how much he adored her, scared to chase her off.

---------

“Tea?” She called out to him, two cups of tea placed in her hand as she rammed the tip of her boot against his door, trying not to spill the hot water over herself. He leaned himself against his door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest, typical Negan smirk on his lips, “aw, did you miss me, doll?”

Things between the pair took an interesting turn that night, being the clumsy girl she was, (y/n) managed to spill some tea over his trousers, apologizing over and over again, while trying to dry off his crotch with a paper towel, not realizing the way she was putting pressure onto him. “Doll, you should have just told me that you so desperately want to touch me, no need to spill tea all over me.” He chuckled as he grasped her face, fingers running over her now flushed cheeks, eyes wandering down to her lips.

She instinctively closed her eyes, expecting to feel his lips on hers, whimpering as he finally attached his mouth onto hers, teeth gazing her lower lip, pulling on it, he was obsessed with her taste. (Y/n) couldn’t stop the moan from escaping her lips as he pulled her onto his lap, core placed against his bulge, almost naturally grinding her hips against his. Calloused fingers wandered underneath her shirt, exploring her skin, she was in for a night full of new experiences, buried underneath his body, bedsheets swallowing her frame.

-----------------

There hasn’t been a day where she didn’t thank her fate for crossing paths with Negan, grateful for the way he saved her, the way he took her in and gave her life a new meaning. The saviors were her new family, still, she tried to hide the thing that was going on between her and Negan, she didn’t like to be in the spotlight, would do anything to avoid any meaningless gossip. It was their own little secret, something to protect, to grow together and to explore each other fully.  

The more she got pulled into his life, the more she realized that he could be ripped away from her sooner than she may expect, the more time she tried to spend with him. Not longer caring about the stares and the whispers, she would relish in the feeling of being close to him, too scared that she’d lose him anytime soon. 

The other communities were slowly encircling them, she could feel that their end was near, coming to terms with the fact that the end of her second chance at life was at reach.

Her life took many turns, definitely more than she had expected, (y/n) was grateful for every moment she got to spend with the love of her life. He was her new home, her new safe haven, knowing that he’d protect her at all costs, just like she’d give her life for him. Something that would probably never change. 

[walkerwords]

“Firehouse Blues” Part 1 of 2 - Negan x F!Reader

PART II

Request from anonymous:  can you do a negan imagine where the saviors find a woman who's living alone in a huge building and has a lot of supplies and guns and the saviors try to take the supplies but she used to be a engineer and has a strong security system so no one can access the building. and one day she meets negan and agrees to a trade. thanks :)

Word Count: 3448

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “It’s A Man’s Man’s World” by Jurnee Smollett-Bell

Note: Another two part request! I was originally going to post this as one, but I wanted to post something for ya’ll so here you go. I had a lot of fun with this one. Mostly cause I love writing flirty Negan! Part 2 will be up soon! Thank you!

Reminder: If you want to be added to my main taglist or individual lists, just let me know!

------

The first time you met the Saviors, you had given them a single warning. 

It was early morning when the trucks first rolled up to your firehouse. You had been living in the old fire station for about a year now and it had quickly become a fortress. With a mixture of scavenging and inventing, your home was not only well-armed but equipped with sophisticated security systems that included both machinery and the Dead. Being an engineer before the Turn, when you found the firehouse, it quickly became your new project. 

A multitude of traps, alarms, and mirrors was placed around the property. From certain vantage points, you could see every entrance and it would be a miracle if anyone or anything could breach your walls. The collection of Dead was your most recent idea and so far it was working. It had taken you a few weeks to get everything perfect, but soon enough, you kept at least ten Dead ones confined within the entrance area of the firehouse. If anyone was to get through the front door, they would have to get through a group of the Dead that you could release with a single pull of a lever.

When you heard the caravan of vehicles approaching your home, you acted quickly. With a few adjustments and two pulls of a lever, two large hoses deposited gasoline out front of the building, ready for you to ignite it if necessary. The entrance to the main yard out front was lined with two large fire engines that blocked the other traps that you had set up, two tripwires that would activate a loud siren, calling any Dead within a few miles towards the building. You were safe behind your brick walls, but your enemy wouldn’t be so lucky.

Sliding down the fire pole that was just off your makeshift bedroom, you crept towards the main area of the station. In the main garage, you could hear your Dead on the other side of the door as they waited in the administration area. It had taken you a while to get used to the noise, but now if you didn’t have the constant groans of your hungry companions, everything felt too silent. 

Climbing up one of the fire ladders, you looked through one of the windows at the top of the accordion door. In the bright sun of the morning, five trucks parked just behind the fire engines. Armed men and women exited the vehicles and gathered around your barrier, looking up at the firehouse in confusion.

You were aware that there were groups in the area. Some were considered safe havens, but of course, there were those who wanted what others had. Based on their weapons and how each of them carried themselves, you were certain they were the latter. 

You climbed down from the window and ran for your armory. You kept your weapons in many different places throughout the station, never all together in one place. In the garage was where you kept most of your smaller pistols as well as your explosives. Grabbing two pistols, you slid them into your holsters. You also grabbed your parabolic listening device. You had found the long-distance microphone on a run a few months ago. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked great when listening to conversations that were right outside your home. 

Making your way to the top level, you checked your traps along the way. Your Dead were secure, the tripwires fully ready, and every door was reinforced alongside automatic weapons that could be triggered with a few tugs of a rope. You then headed for your main “nest” as you called it. On the top floor of the firehouse, you had a full view of those who threatened your home and that is where you waited.

Peering through a rifle scope, you watched as a man with a rather impressive mustache exited the last truck. He walked with a swagger and a cocky grin on his face. He stared up at your fire station with gratification as if he had just won the lottery. Switching on the microphone, you held the disc towards the slightly open window and you listened.

“You know, when our new friend said this place was well-guarded, I thought he meant by actual men,” the man said. A woman to his left followed his line of sight with a frown. 

“Maybe he was wrong, Simon,” the woman said. The man, Simon, shook his head and walked between the fire engines, gauging his surroundings. You watched on in silence. 

“I don’t think so, Arat,” Simon said. “He said this place was a fortress. A fortress with guns,” he said with a wicked smile. At his words, your stomach turned. You knew who he was talking about. You had invited someone into your home a month earlier. His name was Justin and he had been starving, weak, and in need of shelter. He was a former Sailor with the Navy so you had offered him sanctuary. Clearly, that had been a mistake. The bastard had betrayed you and brought these pirates to your doorstep. “Spread out!” Simon ordered. “Find a way in.”

The men and women nodded to their leader and began fanning out over your property. You ignored the teams that went to the sides of the building. They would need a bulldozer to get through your doors and even then, you were prepared to take on any intruders. Your main focus was the man with the mustache. He seemed too confident in trying to take your place by force.

You watched him carefully, gauging all his reactions and how he scanned his surroundings. There was a moment when you considered taking him out. A single bullet to the heart would kill him and allow you to add him to your collection downstairs. However, you had a feeling that if you did, the cavalry would return and conflict was not what you were aiming for here. 

Simon picked his way towards the front of the building. You were surprised to see that he noted your tripwires almost instantly. He didn’t bother to disarm them as he stepped over each one and placed his hands on his hips. “I know you’re in there!” he sang, smiling up at the windows you sat behind. “Why don’t you come on out and we can discuss this like friends?”

Your eyes went to the gasoline that shimmered in the sun. Simon noticed it as well and toed it with his boot. “Careful, Simon,” Arat said, still behind the barrier the wires provided. 

“Something tells me, we aren’t going to get the full welcome wagon,” Simon sighed. “Okay then! Guess we will have to do this the hard way!” Simon then whistled and three of his men approached with a battering ram. You were annoyed when they also took care to avoid the wires. Clearly, you had to do a better job at camouflaging them. The men placed themselves at your front door, ready to take it down, but all you did was smile. Reaching over to your left, you pulled up on a yellow-painted-lever and released your Dead.

As soon as the ram broke down the door, ten lumbering Dead men and women attacked your intruders. You heard the screams first. Two men went down as the Dead converged on them. “Fall back!” Simon yelled, running back to avoid gnarled hands and teeth. In his hurry, he didn’t avoid the wires this time and instantly your home lit up with a fire siren. 

Simon and the others panicked as the Dead began appearing around corners. You had purposefully baited them with dead animals whenever you could. You found the Living avoided highly populated areas of the Dead so it played in your favor. Panic ensued instantly as the men and women retreated to their vehicles. You pushed open your window and leaned out slightly, making sure Simon could see you. Meeting your eyes, he glared, cursing. You smiled widely at him and then lifted your middle finger to the sky.

“You might wanna hurry up!” you hollered at him, “I don’t think they’ve eaten in a while!” you shouted, gesturing to the Dead that stumbled towards his people. Simon looked as if he wanted to shoot you right there, but he made the smarter choice and ran for his truck. 

“Go!” he yelled, jumping into the passenger seat and slamming his hand against the roof. The trucks raced away from your home, firing at stray Dead as they did. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched them flee. However, it was then that you realized you had to reset all your traps and you sighed in annoyance. The Dead would be easy to replace, but it was always a hassle to reset the wires and disperse the hungry bodies that surrounded the area after the siren. 

Speaking of which, you ran to the other side of the room and slammed your hand against the emergency shut-off button, turning off the deafening sound. Listening to the increased groans of the Dead, you picked up a length of chain that hung on a hook. “This is gonna take all night,” you said with a deep sigh, but you knew it was worth it.

You were considering adding more than ten this time. The only thing that would make the situation better was if you could get your hands on Justin and hang his traitorous ass on the front gate as your first warning. Perhaps one day you would get the chance, but for now, you had work to do. 

--------

It was two months later when you finally met the man in charge.

You were on a run for parts to fix a radio you had found in the boiler room when you heard the sound of clashing metal. Running towards the sound, you saw a supply truck tipped over on its side and the Dead circled it like sharks after prey. You thought about turning away. It wasn’t rare for people to come through your area of town. They would get into rough situations and either they lived or they didn’t. You never felt as if it was your duty to intervene. However, when you saw who exited the truck, you reconsidered. 

Climbing out of the passenger side window, a tall, handsome man slid to the ground. In his hand, he held a barbed-wire-wrapped baseball bat, and as soon as he got his bearings, he swung it, crushing in skulls immediately. You watched this man fight through the small herd of Dead as they attempted to make him their lunch.

His leather jacket was splashed with black blood and it seemed as if he was limping heavily. You figured he was injured from the crash, but it didn’t seem to stop him. It was clear to you that he was a survivor and that was what made you pull your weapon. 

You ran towards the man, firing on the remaining Dead. He turned to you in surprise before going back to swinging his weapon. Neither of you spoke as your dispatched the rest of the corpses. You then found three feasting on a body that hung limply out of the truck’s windshield. You pulled your knife and took them out, stabbing each of them in the back of the head.

When all was quiet, you turned to find the survivor bent over, leaning on his bat for support. “You alright?” you asked, slightly out of breath. 

“Am I alright?” he asked, slightly amused. “Shit, Darlin’, you’re the one who went all fucking Rambo on these dead assholes. I am more than alright considering how much badass I just witnessed,” he said and you found his deep voice incredibly soothing, even when he was swearing like a sailor. 

“Your injury,” you said, pointing at his leg, “is it a bite?” 

“Nope, just your average big ass cut,” he said, pulling up the leg of his pants. The wound looked deep, most likely from a piece of metal. Looking around, you made a quick decision. 

“I can patch you up if you want. My place is just around the corner,” you said, already regretting it. He looked at you for a moment before shrugging. 

“Figure I don’t have any other options,” he said, “Lead the way.” You went to his side and pulled his arm around your shoulders, giving him support. 

“Ya got a name?” you asked as you pulled him towards your firehouse. 

“Negan,” he grunted, clearly in more pain than he first led on. “And what can I call you, my white knight?” he asked, smiling down at you. 

“(Y/N),” you said, “and I’m no white knight. Just figured you’ve already had a shitty day. No need to make it worse.” Negan laughed, a broad smile encompassing his bearded face. 

“I’ll take it,” he said and you smiled slightly. You took Negan through a back alley and then down the main street that led to your home. As you got closer to the fire station, Negan swore under his breath. 

“What is it?” you asked, suddenly on alert for any danger. 

“You’re her, aren’t you?” he asked. 

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific there, bud,” you said, hauling him down the pavement. 

“The firehouse chick,” he explained. “My men tried to take this place a couple of months ago and you unleashed a shit ton of corpses on them!” he said, extremely exuberant. “Simon said you were a spitfire, guess he was right after all.” Hearing Simon’s name, you jerked away from Negan, throwing him to the ground. “Shit!” he swore. You pulled your pistol and aimed it at his head. “Whoa there!” he said, raising his hands.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you and mount your head on my wall?” you asked him, releasing the safety on your weapon. 

“How about the fact that you’re all about defense and not offense?” Negan offered as he stared down the barrel of your gun. 

“And how would you know that?”

“Simon said that everything that happened that day was all bells and whistles. Shit worthy of a badass and a badass you are,” Negan said. 

“Your men tried to rob me, take my weapons, and they didn’t seem to care about whether I had people inside,” you told him. 

“And did you? Have people?” he asked, his eyes flashing between the gun and your face. With a sigh, you dropped the gun.

“No, I prefer to be alone. Tried to have someone with me once and well, he went and told your boy Simon about my place. Haven’t seen him since, but I plan to gut him from head to toe when I do,” you said, holstering your weapon. “Do I have to do the same to you?” Negan grinned once again. 

“No, ma’am,” he said, wetting his lips with his tongue. “I’m quite fine with whatever you decide to do with me.” You rolled your eyes at his innuendo. 

“If I bring you inside, are you gonna try to take my shit?” you asked, your hand still resting on the pistol at your side. 

“Wouldn’t dream of stealing from the woman that is offering to nurse me back to health,” he said, tilting his head to the side. You offered your hand to him.

“I’m holding you to that,” you said and he took your hand. You helped him to his feet and resumed your earlier position. “I meant what I said about mounting your head.”

“I have no doubt that you did,” Negan said. “All the more reason for me to behave,” he said with a wink and you tugged him along with a jerk that had him tripping on the buckled sidewalk. 

------

Arriving at the station, you took him through the side entrance.

Negan leaned against the brick wall as you unlocked the steel door with a series of latches and the help of a small crowbar. “What the hell did you do before all of this? CIA?” you looked up at him, annoyed. 

“I was an engineer, genius,” you explained, and with a kick, the door opened. You grabbed his arm again and hauled him into the building. 

“Yeah, I guess that makes more sense,” Negan said, leaning heavily on you. You closed up behind you and then took Negan down the hall towards the stairs. 

“If you fall, try not to take me down with you,” you said. 

“Have some faith, Darlin’,” he said as you started to ascend the stairs. “So, why a firehouse?” he asked. 

“It was convenient,” you explained. “And I like the area.” 

“Prime apocalyptic real estate, huh?” he joked. 

“Something like that,” you said as you finally made your way to the top level. You dragged Negan over to your bed and dropped him. “You’re a lot heavier than you look,” you panted. 

“It’s my big...personality,” he said with a suggestive smile. 

“More like your big ego,” you said before heading over to the cabinet on the wall. Negan peeled off his jacket, dropping his bat by his feet. You grabbed your first aid kit and a bottle of water and went back to him. Negan leaned back against the wall and you sat at his feet, prepping a bandage and antiseptic. “Roll up your pant leg,” you said. “And no, you do not need to take your pants off,” you said before he could say the lewd remark that you knew was on the tip on his tongue. 

“Damn, you’re good,” Negan said, but did as you asked. Placing a towel under his calf, you cleaned the wound the best you could. You were right before, it was pretty deep.

“Needs stitches,” you said, grabbing the sewing kit. 

“Go for it,” Negan said, placing his hands behind his head. As you stitched his wound closed, he almost seemed content with the situation. 

“You don’t get a lot of downtime, do you?” you asked. 

“How can you tell?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Because you’re practically asleep while I tug your flesh back together.”

“I got people to lead,” Negan explained. “Doesn’t allow much leisure time.”

“Right, the people that you lead to steal the supplies and homes of others,” you said bitterly as you soaked the freshly stitched wound with alcohol again.

“We all do what we have to in order to survive,” Negan said, his tone more serious. 

“You don’t have to be a looter,” you said, wrapping his leg. You tightly secured his wound and then gathered up your supplies. You gave Negan the water and got up, turning your back on him. 

“Why are you alone?” he asked after a few minutes. You leaned against one of the steel columns and stared at him, trying to make your mind up about the man before you. 

“I stopped trusting people years ago,” you told him, “And every time I decide to try it again, they screw me over. No people, no problems.”

“Sounds lonely,” he said, his eyes softening. 

“You get used to it,” you said, pushing off the column and going over to your work desk, fiddling with pieces of tech. You were bent over the radio, trying to rewire it when you felt his presence behind you. “If you rip your stitches, I won’t redo them.” Negan laughed and took a seat in the chair by your desk. 

“I want to offer you a deal, (Y/N),” Negan said, watching you with curious eyes. 

“I nearly killed your man, Simon, what makes you think I want to make a deal with you?” you asked. 

“Look, Simon, he means well...sometimes and while he is my right-hand, he’s not me. My men do many things in my name, but when it comes down to it, I’m the one who should be shaking hands and kissing babies.”

“And that’s what you want to do with me?” you questioned. 

“I think you and I can have a very beneficial relationship,” he said, running his hand over his chin. “Strictly professional, of course.”

“Of course,” you mocked. “Negan, I appreciate that you want to make some kind of deal, but I don’t deal with people that prey on others.” Negan leaned forward. 

“Darlin’, I am more than happy to go by your rules,” he said slowly, “but I want you to hear me out. Who knows, maybe you’ll find I’m not that bad after all.” You leaned towards him as well, staring him down. He glanced down to your lips. Quirking a brow, you smirked.

“Don’t hold your breath, Darlin’.” 

TAGS: @thanossexual​ 

[spaghetti-tuesday-on-wednesday]

Maybe Arat and the other Saviors did need to answer for the shit they did. I'm not saying what they did was in any way right. But jumping directly to murder? Secretly murdering them and causing chaos in the groups? That's the wrong way to go. What happens when everyone else finds out? Everything Rick and Michonne are trying to establish is going to go downhill just like that and people will start thinking this kind of stuff is okay. It's dangerous times rn

[sonofsaviors]

@lostgrimesgirl​

After the war with the Saviors, Sanctuary had changed. With the help of his lieutenants, Logan had planned out expansions for the gates surrounding the community. Reserves of precious gas had been used to secure travel RVs and every scrap of building materials within a fifty mile radius. Workers that had previous life experience in construction, farming, craftsmenship, and even sewing found themselves the new brand of Saviors, working side by side with the old.

Looking out over new Sanctuary, as new crops were being planted and some workers were going about building a new, larger chicken coup, Logan felt pride.  A worker approached him, holding a worn looking clipboard and the leader of the Saviors turned to address him. Building reports, lists of inventory, and columns of what they still needed. They were still talking when his radio crackled on his hip.

“Boss?” Logan reached up and clicked the button, turning his head to talk into the speaker.

“Yeah, Arat?” 

“Someone’s here for you.”

“Me specifically or just whoever is in charge?”

“You specifically. By name.”

A sigh. He nodded to the worker, handing back the clipboard and telling him to put it in his office. He would look it over in detail later.

“On my way.”