#quick run down: been reading fic (not helping my revision any but nevertheless) and looking back at old characterisations of cathy

[averlym]

Im sorry but can you do 45 angst for parrlyn? U don't have to tho!

45- "leave" (very quick doodle for you!)

[vizhi0n]

Sundown - Part 5 (End)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

OOOH okay so I hope you guys don’t hate me, but after going through like 50 revisions and ideas I figured out how I wanted this all to end. This is a long chapter, but I didn’t want the fic dragging on. Thank you guys so much fo reading this random post-premier fic that i thought up XD

Homies: @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @i-am-negan-trash @genevievedarcygranger @ladylorelitanyfanfiction @lucifers-trash-stash @crzcorgi @kellyn1604 @crzcorgi @mypapawinchester @manawhaat @rapsity @superprincesspea @haleyea  @hannibalssweaters @heartfulloffandoms @alyisdead @my-achilles--heel @jasoncrouse @strangersangel9 @fxcking-negan @tolieboy @fairytale07 @kijilinn

Warnings: Gore, Negan’s potty mouth, and le’ good ole smut.

Our bodies were slick with sweat — we’d discard our clothes in a pile in the corner. Negan had been right — he had fucked me more than once. Twice, actually. I was surprised he wasn’t sated yet as he pinned my arms above my head, mouth descending so he could swirl his tongue around my breasts. 

I wasn’t complaining. His fingers were careful not to jostle any of my injuries. Nevertheless, I was even more sore afterwords as my recovering body endured more stress than it needed. He’d slowly worked any sexual awkwardness out of my body, ensuring that it didn’t hurt when he entered me. 

“You ever been fucked in the ass before?”

“No? What the fuck makes you think that I have, or that I’d want that?” Negan chuckled at my response as I rolled my hips against his, already used to him filling me up. I was marked — I’d never be able to get his scent off me. Cheap cologne, sweat, blood, a musky sweetness that only he possessed. I wasn’t sure if it as the smell or the flick of his thumb against my clit that had me finally whining for him. 

“There you fucking go,” Negan praised. He chuckled, burying his nose in my hair. “Holy shit, you’re so nice and fucking warm for me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Negan pressed two quick kisses against my lips, mumbling, “We really need to work on your sex talk.”

“I’m just…making an observation,” I grunted as he bucked his hips. His thumb continued to assault my clit with even more vigor than before, inching me towards my release. He was holding out well, grunting with each thrust of his cock. 

I came first, clenching around him and releasing a series of rather pornographic moans that even I was ashamed of. My nails dug into his shoulders as I held on, pressing my mouth against his bare shoulder to stifle my next few cries. I stayed there even as he pulled out and released onto my taut stomach, muttering curses. He rolled over and I nestled against him, burying my face in his neck. He held me, trying to catch his breath.

“You are going to be the fucking death of me,” Negan groaned. I smiled and ran my fingers through the nest of matted dark hair on his chest. He grasped my hand, stopping me. After a quick squeeze he whispered, “Stay here with me. Please.” 

“Negan—”

“Nothing will ever hurt you again. I fucking swear it,” he said, “Because you’ll be by my fucking side.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking? What the hell else am I supposed to say to you?” Negan’s lips curled into a grimace. “When I say shit, I fucking mean it. What reason would I have to lie, after everything that’s fucking happened?”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know me. Not all of me — fuck,” Negan pinched the bridge of his nose, jerking his chin towards his faithful barbed baseball bat, which rested against the wall, stained with blood. “Lucille? She’s…Lucille was my fucking wife. She was the one who always liked bringing me chocolate covered strawberries and shit like that. She was the greatest fucking thing that ever happened to be. Even if the world hadn’t gone to shit, she still would have fucking died. I still would have lost her.”

“How’d she die?”

“Cancer. And my pathetic ass couldn’t even put her down. I had to get some fucking kid to do it for me,” Negan gazed up at the ceiling. “I fucking admire you, okay? I respect you. You’re fucking ballsy, you have an attitude, and you’re way smarter than you give yourself credit for. Kind of like her.”

“We would have been homies, then. I like smart women. I like women in general. Hey, we have that in common,” I patted Negan’s chest, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “Now get up. We’re actually in a bit of predicament here.”

“I thought I was on vacation?” Negan chuckled. “Toss me my fucking pants and then I’m ready to fucking go.”

“We only have one shot at this. It’s now or never.”

“I trust you,” Negan said. “You’ve done this shit before?”

I nodded, peeking out the window. The walkers were just milling about, and the horde didn’t look as dense as before. We had a chance. A slim chance, but a chance. 

Now or never.

“Shit,” I cursed, squeezing my eyes shut before opening them. I shut the blinds, gesturing for Negan to stay while I slowly opened the door. Several walkers turned at the noise, shuffling towards the stairs. 

I gripped my crowbar and swung twice. One walkers toppled, head caved in like a fallen pie crust. I quickly and carefully grabbed the corpse’s arm and began pulling, feeling Negan assist from behind. We dragged the bleeding, unmoving walker into the trailer, shutting the door behind us. 

I dropped the body, panting. Negan looked over at me once more, and then down at the walker corpse. Sighing, he began gathering supplies while I knelt over, feeling a tight pain in my ribs and in the back of my head. I tugged the huge flannel that I’d salvaged closer against my body, feeling a bit dizzy. 

“You sure you’re up for this? You’re concussed, Rachel,” Negan asked. “Drink this before you do anything else.”

He tossed me the bottle of water. I tried to catch it but my depth perception was off and it landed on the carpet. Wincing, I reached down and picked it up, wasting no time before I began taking massive gulps. 

“There’s only one left,” Negan said. “Shit.”

“Another reason why we need to get the fuck out of here.”

Negan huffed, tugging an oversized, old sweater over his head. He reached down to grab Lucille before limping back over, standing by my side as we observed the corpse. 

“You wanna go first?” I grimaced.

“Fuck no. This was your idea, not mine.”

I rolled my eyes. I shakily got to my knees, gesturing for Negan to hand me his long bowie knife. He did, sliding it from his pocket and handing it to me hilt first. Without hesitation, and trying to remember what I’d seen Rick and Michonne do back in Alexandria, I sliced the walker open from neck to hip. 

The stench was unbearable. The cramped trailer smelled like rotting flesh, bloody, a sickly-sweet odor that, even after being around the undead for years, I’d never gotten used to. Negan held his nose with one gloved hand, waving for me to hurry. 

I did. Ignoring the horrible texture of flesh, intestines, and sinew, I began dousing myself in walker entrails. It was in my hair and on my face, turning my dark skin a brilliant red. 

Negan went next. I helped him, coating his head and working away at his sweater until it turned from cream to black with blood. He slipped his knife back into its sheath while I grabbed my crowbar and then, finally, the assault rifle. I slung it over my shoulder — I was halfway to the door when I stopped. 

Negan was watching me. He had Lucille clutched tightly between his fingers. 

“I never did thank you for not killing me,” I said softly. “You trusted me.”

“I didn't really have a fucking choice. But I’m glad that I did."

“Yeah,” I glanced at the ground, watching his boots as they came into view. When I looked up he was staring down at me, skin matte with dried walker blood. Without even thinking I reached out and grasped his free hand, murmuring, “If I choose to stay with you, I…I don't want to fight. I can’t fight. I can’t hurt anyone. What I want to do is negotiate — talk with Rick, Ezekiel, Maggie…no more bloodshed and no more death. Nobody has to die. Not anymore.”

“If they try and kill you, I’m sure as hell going to fight back.”

“I know. Shit, Negan. I think I might actually have a thing for you.”

“A thing?”

“A thing, thing. Like…I feel it in my stomach. I feel warm when you touch me or when you talk to me. I want more. I deserve more after the shithole of a life I’ve had. You make me feel good.”

He brushed his thumb across my lower lip, smiling. His kiss was chaste, gentler than I’d ever felt from him. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

I grinned. 

“You’re pretty good looking yourself,” I replied. “Let’s go. Now or never, remember?”

We waited until we had a pretty good, clear space before we walked down the stairs of the trailer. I stuck close to Negan, our fingers intertwined. I had the gun and the crowbar while he held Lucille, her barbed ends pressed against his bloodied sweater. We walked slow — we had to. Negan’s injuries prevented us from outright running, and my concussed head, sore ribs and aching arm had made it very clear that breaking into a sprint was not an option. Our slow speed made us seem authentic, and I prayed that no Saviors would mistake us for walkers and snipe us from above. 

We made no sound. The groans of the undead made it impossible to whisper to one another. We weaved our way through, and the entire time, I felt dread within me. Those teeth, those unflinching eyes, were too close. Each time a sinewy, dead hand would brush against me I’d flinch—

Don’t be scared. Fear gets you killed.

I stayed as close to Negan as possible. I had no clue where he was leading me — I, of course, had no in-depth knowledge regarding the layout of the Sanctuary. But I knew the longer we stayed disgusted amongst the dead, the more chances there were for things to go horribly wrong.

Like right now, for instance. 

I heard shouts from the balcony, though they weren’t directed at us — I looked up and saw one of the Saviors — Gavin — pointing and instructing several armed Saviors to begin firing. 

Firing at what? 

“Shit,” Negan hissed. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The herd began shifting towards the noise, inevitable tugging us along with them. The minute we tried to divert towards a different route was the moment the facade crumbled. 

“There’s a safe place just around that corner,” Negan shouted through the roar of gunfire. Gavin hadn’t seen us, and his men were busy firing at whatever walkers moved. I heard the noise the moment Negan and I began swinging our weapons. 

Shattering glass. Flames. Alcohol. 

Those dumbasses were throwing molotov’s!

They weren’t dumbasses. They were smart — molotov’s were smart. But of all the times they chose, now could have been the worst possible opportunity for them to grow a pair and start doing something. I felt Negan shove me forward from behind, dragging his leg behind him as he did his best to run. 

“Go, go, go!” he swung Lucille in a wide arc, catching two walkers in the head at once. I shoulder past a walker before bashing one with my crowbar. There was no time to grab my gun and begin firing. 

“Negan!”

“Go,” Negan roared. He began limping, teeth clenched as he struggled and pushed his way through the undead. 

I didn’t go. I reached for him, bloody hands grasping his sweater and tugging him forward. I slung his long arm around my shoulder, doing my best to support his limping form. 

Grimy hands grasped for out clothes. I saw it first — a wide fire escape just a few feet off the ground. Negan gasped, “Fucking there! Go there!”

I released him. He turned, startled, as I engaged the first walker I saw, smashing my crowbar down twice against its head. Blood splattered across my face and I bellowed, swinging again and again and again —

“Rachel — shit, get over here!”

I thrust the crowbar forward. To my dismay I felt it sink through the decaying neck of a walker, coming out the other side. This slight mishap gave the creature enough time to grasp my shoulders. 

No, no, no —

I released the crowbar and shoved. Not even bothering to grab it, I clambered up the fire escape, still toting the assault rifle. 

The sound of gunfire had ceased, but I could smell burning wood and flesh. Negan let out a breath, still limping as he used Lucille to bash open a glass window. 

We were safe.

Negan gestured for me to go first, sliding down against the wall, clutching his thigh in agony. Even in my concussed state, I could see that he needed medical attention. 

Shit.

I climbed through the window, discarded onto the floor. The room was empty, so I dropped my guard, peeling off the sticky, blood soaked flannel and tossing it to the side. I knelt down, poking my head through the shattered window.

Negan was sweating, voice hoarse as he spoke.

“Holy shit. Holy shit this feels like a fucking dream,” he groaned, shifting so he could face me fully. “Don’t ever say that I doubted you.”

“You doubted me like fifty times, dude, don’t lie. But I would have doubted me to so I’m not, like, mad or anything. And it helps that you’re so damn charming.”

“Well, I apologize for my fucking transgressions.”

“Apology accepted,” I smirked, extending my hand. “C’mon. Do you need help getting through—”

“Hey!”

A hard female voice pierced through the air. I turned away from the window, standing. One of the women from before — Regina — stood with a gun clutched in her hand. I went to speak, raising my hand in a placating and calming gesture to let her know that I wasn’t an enemy—

She shot once. Then again. The first bullet hit right below my left breast while the other struck my hipbone. I heard a bellowing male voice — Negan — and the sound of shattering glass, and a woman’s scream. Footsteps as more saviors approached. 

And then I hit the floor, hard, my legs unable to support my weight. My entire body felt twitchy and out of control. I went to feel the wound and felt nothing but blood. 

I had a clear view of Negan as he pounced on Regina, gripping the screaming woman and, in a shriek of pure, unadulterated rage, hurled her through the window and over the fire escape. Her body fell several feet before impacting the concrete with a sickening thud before being consumed by those below. I heard Simon yell at the Saviors not to shoot. 

All the while I lay as crimson stained my clothes and the floor beneath me. There was so, so much of it, like a river. I tried verbalizing it but found my lungs filled with the sickening liquid. When I tried to speak I convulsed, mouth flooded with blood. 

“Get Carson! Fucking get him, now!” Negan bellowed, eyes bloodshot. A few Saviors obeyed while the others watched. 

Take a picture, boys, it’ll last longer.

I desperately wanted to make the joke, but I could barely talk. Negan propped me up, hastily removing his glove so he could press a clean hand against the wound beneath my breast as it sucked the life out of me. 

You’re dying.

There was no pulling away or coming back. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the pain or the blood, or Negan’s pleas. I could only relish in the feeling of him holding me, cradling me in his arms and lifting my head so I could try and breathe.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Shit,” Negan squeezed his fist together. “I’m so fucking sorry. Listen, Carson is coming. Harlan Carson. He’ll fucking fix you. Look at me, okay? Fucking don’t move. Look at me! You’ll be okay.”

No, I won’t.

Fucking say something!

I fought through the mouthful of blood, managing to push out a few garbled words. 

“No. This is what happens to humble foot soldiers, remember — I get it now,” I smiled, holding it as long as I could. I didn’t want his last memory of me to be of some expressionless corpse. “Thank you.”

Negan’s begging and cries dissipated. They were nothing. I was nothing. I couldn’t see or smell or hear. I was gone, sinking beneath the horizon like the setting sun. But I wouldn’t come back. 

Hush.

It’s sundown.