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24 Hours with Negan

Chapter Text

You had just turned 17 when the outbreak began. You can still see the faces of your family members when you close your eyes. The way your dad looked when he fought to protect you. He tried so hard to protect everyone, but in the end he just wasn't strong enough- between the dogs and your baby brother and your older sister and your step mother who was always afraid- there was just too much for him to look after.

Anyways, you're alone now. Well, you feel alone... You do have somewhat of a friend in Matthew. Matt's helped save you more than a few times on your travels, but lately he's been getting pretty pushy on what he wants from your relationship and it's starting to scare you.

"We're just friends," you remind him once again.

Matt sighs in frustration, "I know that (y/n), I'm just saying you should give me a chance. We're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse for Christ sake and you're being choosy on who you want for a boy friend!"

You kick a few large rocks as you walk. It's not like you haven't thought about having a boyfriend, or at least someone to date. But Matt has always just been a friend. You kick another stone. You and Matt have been following the railroad tracks for a few hours now, hoping to find some kind of shelter before nightfall. The last thing you want is to be sleeping up in a tree for another night!

"Have you ever considered that maybe I don't want a boy friend?"

"Seriously, you're 19 years old and you still want to be single?" He asks, stopping in the middle of the track to look at you. You look back at him.

He's not an ugly guy- about 24 years old, you think. He's got light skin that's slightly burnt by the Georgia sun, and dark brown hair that falls messily over his eyes. In fact, you think before the apocalypse you might've given a guy like him a chance. But now all you can think about is how his whiny and pushy behavior is a liability. You can practically hear your dad's voice calling him a 'little bitch'. You can't help but giggle at the voice in your head.

"So now you're laughing at me," he growls.

"No, I wasn't laughing at you," you try to tell him but Matt just shakes his head and starts walking away.

"C'mon, let's go before it gets too late," he says over his shoulder.

About twenty minutes later the two of you wind up at a railway station. Matt looks back at you and gives a hand signal- it means he sees walkers, two of them. You crouch down low, pulling your axe handle from the sling on your back. You feel a wave of adrenalin rush through your body, making your fingertips go cold. No matter how many times you face them, the dead always give you a little bit of fear. But if you can clear out the walkers then maybe you won't have to sleep outside tonight, and that's reason enough to run up to them and take a swing.

The first walker turns to you with a growl, it's jaw is hanging loose and you wonder how it can even see you with it's eyes shriveled in their sockets. It doesn't matter- you swing your axe handle as hard as you can and sigh in relief as it's skull caves in around the temple. You turn to Matt with a smile as you see him drop the second walker by stabbing it's forehead.

"Alright, good job-" you start to say, but suddenly cold dirty fingers are digging into your shoulder. You turn and a third walker is pushing you down, trying to bite your face. You feel it's overgrown fingernails cutting into your flesh and your heart starts pounding in panic. You try to push it away, but it's a freshly turned walker and so it's much stronger than the already rotting ones.

"Matt!" You yell, tripping over the first walker you killed and landing hard on your back. It feels like the air's been knocked out of you, and you struggle to take a breath. You look up, but Matt's just standing there, staring at you. The walker on top of you so close you can smell it's breath- like roadkill and the worst morning breath you've ever smelled. It nearly makes you gag, and tears sting the corner of your eyes from it.

"Matt, help," you ask again.

Finally Matt starts to move. "You know, (y/n)" he says, "if it weren't for me, you'd probably be dead by now. In fact, with all the times I've saved your ass, I know you'd be dead by now."

You try to push the walker back or roll over but your arms are shaking with the effort of just keeping it off of you. "Matt!" You yell in desperation. The walker is so close now you have to turn your face just to keep from being bit. "Please!" You beg.

"I'm just saying," he continues, walking over to you and kneeling so that he can talk to your face, "a little appreciation would be nice." In a swift movement he plunges his blade into the walkers head, causing it's blood to spill over your face and chest. It's thick and black like tar and smells ten times worse then the walker breath did.

"What the fuck, Matt!" You yell, rolling the dead body off of you. "Are you serious!? Why didn't you tell me there was a third walker?" You're yelling loudly and a part of you is worried there may be more undead lurking in the station, but you're just so frustrated. "I could've died!" Tears are starting to stream down your cheeks and you quickly rub your face to wipe them away.

"I'm sorry," Matt replies, "I swear I didn't see that one. I just feel like you don't appreciate me is all..."

You wipe the blood and tears from your face as Matt steps closer to you. He grabs your shoulders and looks you in the eyes. His sadness almost looks believable.

"I'm sorry," he says again, this time pulling you into a hug. He almost smells as bad as the walkers. "I wasn't gonna let it hurt you, I promise. I would never let anything hurt you. I care about you, (y/n), more than you know."

You really don't want to be hugging him, but the adrenalin and the fear from almost being bitten has you seeking comfort- and so you hug Matt back, holding on to him as you cry. It's so frustrating to feel this way but at least you're not completely alone in this fucked up world.

"See, baby, I'll take care of you." You feel a wave of nausea creep up as he says those words.

"Let's go," you say finally, shrugging him off of you. You grab your axe handle from the ground and hold it tightly in your grip, ready for whatever's in the station.

Unfortunately, the inside of the station is a complete bust. Luckily, there aren't any more walkers but the entire back wall is completely busted open which makes it less than ideal to spend the night. You sigh in frustration, glass crunching under your boots as you explore what little is left of the crumbling building. You discover a small pushed over concession stand. From the looks of what's left someone else had already took anything that was worth anything.

You sigh in frustration, "looks like someone's already been through here, took anything we might need." You turn to Matt, who's standing behind a counter.

"Not everything," he says, smiling wildly. He holds up small box, and it takes a moment for your brain to register that it's a box of condoms.

You feel your stomach drop like a ball of ice. "Seriously, those are probably expired," you tell him, trying to keep your cool.

"Hmm," he turns the box over and scans the expiration date. "They got a few more years before they expire, actually," he tells you. "(Y/n), when are you gonna stop playing hard to get?"

You feel another trickle of fear radiate through your body, and tighten your grip on your axe handle. "I'm not playing hard to get. Matt, I told you we're just friends."

"Well I don't want to be just friends. I saved your life!"

"It's your fault that thing even got to me!" You yell back.

"No! Not then," Matt yells, shaking his head, "I saved your life back when your father died!"

You feel a rush of anger, and your hand tightens on the handle once again.

"Can't you just be a little bit grateful to me? It's not like you've got tons of options out here. When your dad died, I was there to pick up the pieces, remember?"

"Shut up, Matt," you warn through clenched teeth.

"No," he says, stepping closer to you. "I won't shut up. I'm the shoulder you cried on when you had no one. I'm the one who took you in and kept you safe."

You feel hot tears start prick the corners of your eyes. "Shut up, Matt! I already said no!"

"I'm the one who kept you safe when your dad couldn't! And this is how you repay me? By being an unappreciative bitch?! I should've just left you to- "

You don't even remember swinging your axe handle. The only thing you feel is the satisfaction of shutting him up. He falls to the ground clenching him stomach where you hit him.

"Are you serious! You fucking bitch!" He clenches his fist and you instinctively step back, ready to defend yourself.


You both turn towards the sound, your heart pounding fiercely as you see a figure step out from behind a crumbled piece of back wall. The first thought that crosses your mind is, "oh, shit." This guys tall, and muscular, and carrying a barbed wire covered bat. And if this guy's here to rob you or kill you, there's no way you'll defeat him without Matt's help. You grit your teeth at the idea of asking Matt for help. *'I'd rather take my chances,'* you think you yourself.

"Well, well, well... what do we have here?" The man asks, practically yelling. "Here I am, just passing through the area when I stumble upon a quaint little rail station. I think to myself this is as good a place as any to drop a load, but lo and behold, there's already a pile shit here! Ain't that right, Matt?"

You don't know what to think, and hold your breath as the man steps closer to you. He turns to face Matt, adjusting his grip on the bat.

"Matt? More like shat! Ain't that right doll face?"

You realize suddenly that this man is here to protect you and you feel your chest swell in relief.

"Yea, fuck you!" Matt shouts at the man, throwing the box of condoms at you in retaliation. You can't help but shake your head at his immaturity.

"See, now that wasn't very nice Shat. You really are a real piece of shit. And you know what I do to pieces of shit?" The man looks back at you for a moment, giving you a handsome smirk that makes your heart pound just a little bit faster. "Well, actually, I don't do anything to pieces of shit. But Lucille here, well-" he clangs his bat, Lucille, against the floor three more times- "she likes to take pieces of shit and bash 'em up until they become piles of shit."

Matt doesn't say anything, instead he looks back up at you, pulling the same sad face he tried earlier. "I'm sorry, (y/n). Listen man-" he looks back to the stranger, this time Lucille is inches from his face- "we don't want any trouble. You can stay here tonight and (y/n) and I will leave. We were just leaving anyways."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" You practically growl the words to Matt.

"Looks like the little lady has spoken," he points Lucille at Matt again, this time making sure to press the barbs against Matt's face. "Seems like you'll be staying here, and (y/n) will be leaving with me."

You feel a wave of butterflies in your belly at the thought of leaving with this man. Even knowing him for less than a minute he feels like the better choice.

"What do you say, doll face?" He asks you.

You nod yes, making sure to stare Matt in the eyes. "I never owed you anything... goodbye Matt."

You grab the one bag you and Matt shared and pull it over your shoulder, turning to walk away. As you exit the rail station you hear the stranger laugh. "Oh, she's savage. You should never fuck over someone who's savage..." Anything else he says is lost as you step outside into the late afternoon sun.

A few moments later, the stranger joins you, stretching out his long limbs before starting his treck on the railway track. It's hard keeping up with his long stride, but even so, you find yourself starting at him from behind. His dark leather jacket is stained with dried blood, and after that little show in the train station you don't know if it's come from the living or the dead. Not that it really matters. He's resting Lucille on his shoulder, and his other shoulder carries a small brown rucksack. You're trying to figure out what kind of man he might've been before the outbreak- a soldier? No, soldiers don't wear black boots. A cop maybe? Or-

You crash abruptly against the strangers chest as he stops to face you. "Listen, doll face, you don't actually have to follow me. You don't owe me anything either."

You look up at him, suddenly aware of just how gross you must look and smell with walker blood on your shirt. But for some reason you don't step back, and neither does he. "I, um, I was going this way before the rail station," you say weakly.

"Is that so," he asks with a small smile. Good God, maybe it's because you've not seen another living human since Matt, but this stranger is devilishly good looking and your entire body heats up just from looking at him. He smiles down at you, and let's his gaze roam down your body. "Well, in that case, the name's Negan."


Chapter Text

You've been walking along the tracks now for what feels like hours. And even though your legs don't necessarily hurt, the straps of your bag are digging into your shoulders, aggravating the scratch marks you received from the walker. It's annoying- especially since you're trying to not look like a total weakling in front of the mysterious stranger.

'Negan, his name is Negan,' you remind yourself.

You growl in frustration as you shift the weight of your bag, rolling your neck to try to loosen the stiff muscles.

"You alright there, kid?" Negan asks, giving you a side eyed glance.

"Yea, I'm fine," you tell him, shifting the weight of your bag again. "Its just-"

He stops you in your tracks. "Your bag got a waist strap, or anything?" He asks, starting to pull the bag from your shoulders. His fingers rub roughly over your shoulders and you hiss in pain. Suddenly his features go dark.

"You been bit?"

"No!" You tell him honestly. But he doesn't look convinced and for a moment you understand why Matt looked so afraid- Negan looks down right intimidating. Actually he looks more than intimidating, he looks like he could murder you, despite his calm demeanor. Maybe it was a mistake to follow this man. "Look," you say, dropping your bag down and pulling your shirt away from your shoulder. "It's just a scratch!"

Negan takes a moment to look at your wound. Three raised lines of flesh trail across your collar bone, but there's no blood. Negan looks at you, softening his scowl.

"Alright then, kid." He gently places Lucille down and reaches into his bag.

Now that he's not staring you down, you feel a rush of indignation. "I'm not a kid, asshole! I told you I wasn't bit."

"You've got quite the mouth on you," he laughs, pulling a small bottle of vodka from his bag. He takes a small sip before dumping the rest over your shoulder. A searing sting pulses over your shoulder.

"Ow! Fuck!" You yell, grabbing your wound and pulling away. "What are you-"

"Just trying to keep it from getting infected." He tosses the empty bottle into the outlining trees, "most people would say thank you."

You want to be angry at him, this guy seems like a total asshole. But there's just something so charismatic about him. Maybe it's the leather jacket paired with a red scarf, because honestly, who even wears scarves anymore? Or maybe it's way he carries himself, with confidence and pride- even in the midst of an apocalypse it looks like he still takes care of his appearance. Matt had stopped brushing his teeth regularly since the week you met him. You shake you head at the thought. Whatever it is about this guy, it just makes you want to listen to what he's got to say. Maybe he was a politician, you wonder.

"Thank you," you say finally.

He rewards you with a dazzling smile, "that's better, doll face."

"And thank you, for protecting me earlier, in the station." You feel a little awkward mentioning it, but the look he gives you lets you know you've said the right thing. His charming smile fades and is replaced with a gentle look.

"Nah, that was all you, (y/n)," he tells you. "He wouldn't've stood a chance against you, little savage." It feels like you're seeing a small glimpse of who this stranger really is. But as quick as it's there it's gone. "Now about this bag, you got any rope or cord in there?"

"I- uh, I don't know," you stutter as you begin to fumble through it. You're ashamed to say, you've never actually carried the bag of supplies. That was a task that Matt was pretty adamant about doing.

"Matt never- I never kept track," you lie. 

Negan shakes his head at you like he can see right through your bullshit. "Rule number one, if you're gonna start surviving on your own- always! keep track! of your own! shit! Only a moron would let a guy like him keep track of all the supplies! You see, Lucille here, she never leaves my side."

You look up at him, finally finding a small bundle of old shoe laces. "Here," you say handing them over, trying to hide the burning embarrassment on your face.

He grabs them from you and begins knotting them together. He must notice how red your cheeks are because his voice softens again.

"When your bag's too heavy, you gotta wrap the bottom of the bag to your waist. It's called a waist strap- or kidney strap-" he begins to wrap the laces around your bag and then ties it to your waist, making sure it's tight against your back, and immediately you feel the difference- "and it helps to transfer some of the weight off of your shoulders and onto your hips." He gives the laces one more tug and suddenly your pulled close to him, nearly bumping into his chest. You feel your heart pounding, and being so close to Negan you think you can feel his too. You can't help but to wonder if he's flirting with you, and your knees go a little weak at the thought of it.

"Thank you," you tell him again.

"Don't sweat it, doll face," he says, winking. "Besides, it's not ideal. You'll have to find something better when you can."

Finally he steps away, and you feel like you can breath again. With the weight mostly off of your shoulders now, you can keep up with Negan's long strides. Still though, you feel an anxious undercurrent as the two of you walk side by side down the tracks. For some reason you feel like you owe Negan an explanation as to why you were ever even traveling with a guy like Matt. You know it's not true, but you can't help yourself and begin explaining anyways.

"He wasn't always such a bad guy," you hear yourself saying. "In fact, I used to think he was sweet. He was supposed to help me find my birth mother."

"Is that so?"

"Yea… She lived up north, on the other side of the Olympic Mountains. I heard that the snow and the cold keeps the walkers at bay, and made it easier for the northern cities not to fall. Matt promised me he would help me find her- but I don't even know if she's still alive," you say softly.

Negan doesn't say anything, he just listens as you continue.

"She never seemed so far away, even when we were half a country apart. It was so easy to just pick up the phone if I missed her. The last I'd heard from her- before everything really went to shit- was that they were evacuating the city and bus riding the citizens into strongholds higher in the mountains, where the dead couldn't climb to. She sounded hopeful... but that was three years ago. And the more time that went on, the more finding my mother became less of a priority for him." You feel tears start to prick the corners of your eyes, "I should've just went to find her on my own. I wasted so much time..."

You wipe at your face before your tears can fall, you've already shared more than you meant to and now you feel a little embarrassed for having said anything at all. There's no way that Negan's not going to see you as a total liability. But to your surprise he just takes in a long slow breath, almost like his thoughts are focused on something else.

"There is no happily ever after," he says finally, and you feel heart drop in sadness. Why did you bother telling him anything? But he keeps talking, and surprises you once again. "That's just something you're gonna need to find out for yourself, doll. If your mom had a fighting chance, then maybe she's out there waiting for you."

"You really think so?"

He laughs at that, swinging Lucille around in his hand, "well, hell if I know! I just told you there ain't no happily ever after!"

You take a deep breath of the warm evening air. Crickets are starting to hum in unison, and even with the sun setting the temperature seems to stay hot and sticky.

"But I do know this," Negan continues, his voice gentle once again, "if I had family I thought was still alive, I'd find them and I'd burn any one the stood in my way."

This man really is an enigma, one minute he's over the top and confident and intimidating, but the next he's gentle spoken and kind.

"So you're all alone?" You ask.

"Bingo!" He says, swinging Lucille around once more. "Except for 'ol Lucille here."

"Were you alone before, too?" You look over and see his face twitch, a flash of sadness moving over his features. Before you can think better of it, you ask, "what happened to them?"

"I told ya kid, no happy endings." His brilliant charming smile is back, "and, well, as much as I love storytime, I'm afraid that's a story for another day!"

Chapter Text

Negan's right, in this hellish landscape there is no happy ending. But as the two of you begin to see the silhouette of an old house in the distance, you think to yourself 'there can be happy moments.''

The sun has nearly set already, and you grip your axe handle tightly, prepared for whatever comes next. The sides of the house are overgrown with weeds and shrubbery, making it impossible to look through the windows. Negan doesn't say a word to you, but you effortlessly fall in step behind him as you both round the house. With a swift hard kick, Negan knocks the front door open and you both take a moment to listen for walkers. When you're both sure you don't hear the growls of a mass suicide pact, you step in to begin clearing the rooms.

He looks at you and nods towards the upstairs, while you silently agree and begin moving through the lower level. The first room your in- the living room- is obviously clear. So you move on to the kitchen. It's kind of funny, before the fall of humanity, you used to think open concept living was overrated and stupid. 'A gimmick in those stupid house shows my step mother used to watch.' Open concept may look stupid, but at least it makes the walkers easier to find.

You search beneath the kitchen table for crawlers, and then the lower cabinets for any lurkers. You know enough to know that walkers could be literally hiding anywhere. You sigh in relief as the kitchen is cleared, and move on to the guest bathroom. From the guest bathroom you move to the dining room, once again checking beneath the table and behind the thick fancy curtains. You've checked every door, and there doesn't seem to be a basement so you make your way up the stairs to find Negan.

When you reach the top of the steps Negan meets you. "It's all clear up here," he says, but then he points Lucille toward a little rope hanging from the ceiling. "All except there."

'The attic,' you think, following Negan over to it. He taps Lucille against the ceiling and immediately you hear a shuffle.

"Ah, shit." Negan tightens his grip on Lucille and motions for you to pull the attic cord. Dust and debris spill down from the attic, and you gasp in horror as Negan suddenly closes his eyes.

"Fuck!" He shouts, wiping his face. Clearly something isn't right, but you can hear a quickening shuffle making it's way towards the opening. Negan's head's still turned away and it's all happening so fast.

You hear it getting closer, closer, closer- and suddenly a little gray body falls through the hole. You swing your axe handle with all your might, sending it crashing against the hall wall. Without hesitation, you bring the handle down twice in rapid succession, crushing the tiny skull. It's then that you notice that this walker was just a child before it turned- probably no older than three. You feel sick at the thought, but Negan seems absolutely tickled.

"HOLY HELL! You just hit that little son of a bitch like piñata!" He's shaking his head in disbelief, "I've never seen a walker fly across a room like that before, that shit was hilarious! You really are a savage!"

"Which room was the kids room?" You ask, ignoring his chuckles. That seems to sober him up, and he points Lucille towards the room at the end of the hall. "Thank you," you say, scooping up the tiny corpse. As you do so you hear Negan climb the attic ladder, presumably to finish clearing.

You lay the tiny body down on it's bed, and bring the covers up over it's head. You don't mind killing walkers, but the child walkers still give you giant helpings of sadness. You can't help but feel as though children should somehow be immune to it all.

You hear a gentle knock, and Negan steps in. He stays silent for a moment, watching you. But you don't know what to say. You want to tell him that babies are innocent, they don't deserve the cruel things the world has to offer, that your brother didn't deserve any of the cruelty he received. But you don't need to tell him to know what he's going to say. No happy ending. To your surprise however, Negan places one of the stuffed animals on the bed. He lets you mourn, even if it simply consists of sitting in silence. And when the last of the days sunlight finally begins to fade you both leave the room together.

In the kitchen, Negan starts a small fire in a tin pot. It doesn't do much to illuminate, especially since the moon is full and bright. But you watch him work in silence as he opens a can of shredded beef and warms it over the fire. He takes a few bites before handing you the can.

The meat isn't bad, especially if you ignore the dog face on the can. 'At least they fed their dog the good stuff,' you think. It's not like you're above eating it, and you've certainly eaten worst. You're just glad your stomach isn't twisting in hunger anymore.

You take another bite, and suddenly you feel a small chuckle bubble out of you.

"What's got you laughing over there," Negan asks, reaching for the can.

You can't help it, you're full blown laughing now. Clutching your sides, tears streaming down your cheeks- the whole nine. And you hear Negan chuckling in both amusement and confusion.

"You w're right," you manage to say between fits of laughter. "It did look like a fuckin piñata!"

Negan joins you in laughter, nearly choking on his bite of food. "Jesus Christ!" He says, wiping a hand over his face. You don't remember the last time you laughed this hard, and it feels good to just feel the pain of a good laugh. But then you feel something else too. A fluttering in your chest at the sound of Negan's laughter. It rumbles out of him and soon you feel your laugher fading as you watch him instead. Laugh lines crease the corners of his eyes and down along the sides of his brilliant smile. You know you're staring but you can't seem to look away.

"You're my kind of girl," he tells you, talking another bite. He goes to hand you the can but the look you're giving him stops him in his tracks. For a moment he just stares back at you, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. He quirks an eyebrow. The longer you stare the more it feels like your insides are heating up. You don't really know what you want to do, but the urge to do something is eating you up.

"Negan-" you start to say, but you're instantly distracted by the most beautiful sound.


You both turn towards to the sink, where a single drop of water has escaped from the faucet.

"Oh shit," Negan watches in awe as he turns on the tap and a stream of water comes gushing out. Its brown murky color soon turns clear.

"Well water," you say in astonishment, "Oh my God, I'm going to shower!" You feel like you could cry from excitement. You turn to run up the stairs to the master bathroom, but stop suddenly. "Do you mind if I go first?"

Negan seems surprised by the question. "Not at all, darlin," he says softly.

You smile joyfully and run up the stairs, already halfway undressed before you get to the bathroom. The master bathroom's got a pedestal tub and a large stand-in shower, but you don't care. You just want the grime of earlier to be washed off of you. You step into the shower and even though the water's cold and smells a bit like rust it's the best feeling in the world right now. An old bottle of shampoo is sitting in a cubby, and you pour it generously into your hair. The bottle says it's supposed to smell like vanilla milk and papaya extracts, and you don't even know what that means nor do you care because you could be in heaven for as good as you feel.

From the filtered moon light coming through the large window, you can see the blood stained water circling the drain. You wash and scrub your entire body, under your nails, behind your neck and back, and- like your dad used to say- the pits and slits. Soon the water's running clear and you're shivering so you step out to search the closet for some clean clothes. There's not much to choose from, it seems whoever lived here before was not your size. But you find a pair of loose jeans and long sleeve tee. Over the shirt you throw on a short sleeve and pull out a jacket. You see a scarf tucked in the back of the closet and decide to pull that out too. You toss the jacket and scarf on a nearby chair, deciding you'll wear them tomorrow.

When you finally go back downstairs Negan is sitting on the couch, illuminated by his small fire in a pot, and writing in a notebook.

He looks up at you and smiles. "Saved you some peach cobbler in a can."

"Thank you," you say happily, taking the can from him. You sit on the sofa beside him, pulling your legs beneath you. As you take the first bite of sticky sweet pie in a can you can help but sigh in happiness. You rock gently back and forth, savoring each bite.

"That good, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," you tell him, scraping the spoon against the inside, trying to get every drop.

Negan just chuckles. "Good. I'm glad." He places his notebook down and reaches into his bag, "c'mere. Let me see your shoulder again."

You turn towards him, but this time when you show him your shoulder he's surprisingly gentle.

"Just some Neosporin," he tells you, pressing the sticky salve into your skin. He lets his thumb ghost over your scratches, carefully looking for any sign of infection. Then he gently presses on the skin around it. The rough pad of his thumb grazes over your collar bone and you can't help but shiver from his touch. He must notice because he shifts closer, letting his hand move up your neck. You lean into his touch, and when he leans closer you're absolutely sure he's gonna kiss you.

Instead he presses his forehead against yours. "I ain't a good man, baby doll," he warns you.

"You could be," you tell him, breathless. You know you should feel shameful saying it, but the words spill out anyways. "I'd follow you."

For some reason Negan pulls away. He seems torn, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he thinks. "(Y/n), I- I want you to find your mother. Don't get hung up on a guy like me."

He places his belongings in his bag and stands. "I'm gonna go clean up, kid. You should get some rest."

You watch him as he walks away, your heart pounding from both excitement of him being so close and the slight embarrassment of being turned down. But still, even though he's walking away, he pauses for a moment and it doesn't feel like he's telling you no. You realize as he disappears into the bathroom that what happens next is up to you.





Chapter Text

You take a deep breath and shake away whatever strange thoughts are going through your mind. You just met this man, you don't know him, he could be a cold-blooded killer for all you know. Instead you curl yourself up against the arm of the sofa and try to catch some sleep.

A soft sob drifts from the upstairs, a quiet sniffling punctuated by an occasional hiccup. "Negan?" you whisper. The light from outside casts everything in an orange glow and you rub your palms against your eyes as you struggle to adjust them to the darkness.

"Negan!" You call out again. When there's no reply you grab your axe handle firmly, following the sounds coming from above you. A wailing sob echoes through the house, but you realise with dread it's not the sounds of a man crying. The sound of it twists something in your stomach and you feel a familiar knot well up as you recognize the crying for what it is- one from a child. You slowly climb the stairs, holding the handle out in front of you as the light of the moon fades away.

At the end of the hall, is the child's room. And the sound suddenly grows steadily louder as you approach. Soon your grimacing against the wailing, bringing one hand up to clamp around your ear. Your heart is pounding wildly, but almost as though you can't control yourself your body moves through the hall. You open the door and all sound ceases. All that remains is a low ringing in it's absence.

Your step mother is sitting on the edge of the bed. Her long red hair falling like a curtain around a child cradled in her arms. You recognize the child as the walker from the attic, only this time it's face isn't sunken with decay. She's cooing at the babe, brushing it's tears from it's cheeks before latching the child to her breast.

"I know you've always hated me," she tells you without looking up, "but you didn't have to kill him. He was my only child. He was your brother!" Her long hair is beginning to dull and the child who was once drinking is now gnawing at her flesh, it's tiny mouth red as it pulls the flesh of her nipple away from her body. When she finally looks up at you, her eyes are filled with hatred. "You murdered your brother! You murdered all of us!" She hisses through her teeth, "YOU MURDERED ALL OF US!"

Your eyes flutter open. Unlike in the past, when similar dreams sent you into a full blown panic, you simply lay there waiting for your racing heart to calm itself. For the most part, you've learned to control the guilt. But the sadness ebbs and flows, making your limbs heavy with regret.

"I didn't hate her."

Negan looks over at you from where's he's sitting. You must've not been asleep for long because his hair's still wet, little droplets of water falling from its tips and soaking into his shirt. Unlike you he's opted to wear the same clothes as earlier.

You don't wait for him to reply, you're not even really talking to him if you're honest. You just need to get the words out before they dissolve you from the inside. "I didn't want to kill him. Can you even kill the dead? I didn't want to kill any of them."

Negan moves to sit by you, gently reaching over to wipe your cheek with the back of his finger. You feel a bit of shame as you realize you're crying, thick hot tears that leave a salty burn.

"You did the right thing. Trust me. There ain't a worse fate than being one of them nasty fuckers." He takes a deep breath, and you can't quite tell if it's from exhaustion or annoyance. "You wanna talk about it? I can't promise I'll sympathize, but I'll listen."

You look up at him. The only other person who knew about their deaths was Matt, and you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. Without putting anymore thought into it, you let the words spill.

"It wasn't that he was a walker that really gets me, it's that I knew he was gonna turn and I didn't say anything. I saw a scratch or a bite or something on his leg. But my step mom begged me not say anything! She promised me it was nothing! That he just had a cold!" You realize suddenly that your tears are coming faster, your breath catching in your chest as you struggle to tell your story. "She told me I shouldn't make my father worry about any more than he had to. That he had too much to worry about already. And she was right, he really did have too much..."

Negan remains quiet as you continue. "He came back that night from a supply run. He had gotten him a little toy- I don't even remember what it was- but my brother fell asleep that night and never woke up. He just turned into one of those monsters!"

You wrap your arms around your knees and bury your head between them, trying to muffle your sobs. "I didn't tell him what I saw, and when we woke up he was already biting at my sister's throat! My stepmother went to grab him- to hold him like he was fine! Like she just couldn't believe her son was one of them. My dad was so in shock that he just stood there and I had to put him down!"

To your relief Negan doesn't say anything, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug. You rest your head against his chest and cry for what feels like hours, although you're sure it can't be that long.

"She picked him up and threw herself from the roof," you say weakly, your throat raw from crying. "My dad had to put my sister down, and after that… he just never seemed to recover. It was like he was counting down the days 'till he got bit. And when it happened, and he finally did turn, I almost let him turn me too." You wipe the remaining tears from your cheeks, frustrated by what comes next. "Matt saved me. He was able to put my dad down when I wasn't... He just happened to be at the right place at the right time, I suppose... kinda like you."

Negan chuckles at that, "baby doll, I assure you, he is nothing like me." He rubs small soothing circles on your back.

"Yea, I'm quickly realizing." You pull back just a little, smiling at him softly. Now that you're feeling a little better, you realize you should probably get up from Negan's lap. But he's still rubbing your back, looking at you with that charming smile. You feel your heart begin to speed up once more.

Without thinking you kiss his cheek. "Thank you for listening," you tell him as you pull away. His hands tighten around your back and before you can process what's happening, you feel his lips against your own. His mouth is soft and warm and gentle, just a press of his mouth against yours.

You feel his breath on your face as he pulls back to look at you.

"Too soon?" He asks softly.

"No, I just -" Before you can finish your thought he's kissing you again. His large hands move up to cradle your face. He's so much more gentle than you thought he would be, and all too soon it's over.

He tosses you onto the couch at the first sound of shattering glass. "The hell was that?" He hisses. He moves toward the kitchen, as another window shatters, its sound echoing through the house. A third window bursts and it's suddenly clear that someone is circling the house and throwing stones.

"Hey! I know you're in there, (y/n)! You done fucking around because I'm tired of playing games!" Your eyes go wide in surprise as Matt continues to yell nonsense, "if it weren't for me, you'd be dead! Or did you forget that!"

Another window pops and you can hear Negan practically growl in frustration as he grabs Lucille and swings open the front door. "You're really starting to piss me off, Shat! Here, I thought I was being a nice guy letting you live!"

Through the open door you can see Matt take a step back. 'Tsk, little bitch!' you think. But before you can dwell on it, you hear a groaning in the kitchen. Several walkers are pushing their way through the broken window, shattered glass cutting into their rotting skin.

"Negan! Walkers!"

You see Negan turn to look back at you and at the same time you see Matt behind him, lighting a Molotov cocktail. You barely have time to shout, as the cocktail is thrown and engulfs the front entrance in flames. You shield your face from the searing heat as the flames begin to quickly spread across the dried carpet in the living room. As the walkers manage to make their way through the window, you realize with sickening dread that you're becoming trapped. One of them reaches you, blood oozing from the cuts it received. Before you have time to fight it away, a figure leaps through the wall of flames.

"Let's go, bitch!" Matt hisses, plunging a knife into the walkers skull before grabbing your hair and pulling you up the stairs.

You're practically growling with anger as you shout, "get off 'f me!"

You try to twist away but all it succeeds in doing is getting Matt's hand tangled tighter in your hair. At the top of the stairs Matt begins to pull you toward the bedroom. You look desperately for Negan but all you can see is smoke and flames as they quickly engulf the lower level. You can feel the heat sting your face and smell the crackling sickening stench of the dead as the flames continue to rise.

"You know, after all I've done for you, you won't even date me. But here you are kissing some guy you barely know!" He yanks you into the master bedroom, tossing you onto the floor as he turns to close the door behind him.

On the chair you see your scarf, and reach for it. You wrap the ends around your hands, and without a second thought- before he's even turned back to face you- you twist the scarf around Matt's throat. He grunts in shock and tries to shake you from his back.

Your heart is pounding so fiercely that your vision starts to go white at the edges. Killing the living is so much different than killing the dead. Matt is thrashing beneath you, throwing heavy punches behind him, trying to buck you off. But with each passing moment he grows weaker, until he falls to his knees beneath you. For the briefest of moments you think about releasing him. But if he's followed you once, he'll follow you again. You tighten your hold on the scarf, yelling fiercely as adrenaline courses through you.

Suddenly Negan bursts through the door, a murderous look on his face. He stops short when he sees you. He's breathing hard, soot and ash smeared on his cheeks and through his hair. You half expect him to chide you, but he just watches in silence.

He watches as you finish strangling Matt, holding the scarf tight until his limbs grow limp. "We gotta go," he says quietly. But you don't move. He watches as you wait for the rebirth, and when it happens Negan moves to dispatch him.

"No," you say, "I need to do this."

Matt's infected blue eyes focus on you, and he lets out a gurgling growl.

Negan tosses you your axe handle, and watches as you bring it down over Matt's skull. The room is glowing red from the impending flames. Blood and smoke stain your skin, but still Negan doesn't say a word. Just watches you. You're not the girl you once were, and it both terrifies and excites you.

Little Savage

You both finally make your escape through the window. The woods surrounding the house are littered with walkers, lured by the sound of the burning house and maybe even your screams. As you reach the tracks, you try to fight the gnawing feeling of loss. The sun is just starting to lighten the sky, a soft blue haze the signals the start of a new day. Before you the tracks split, two different directions and Negan stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Hey doll, listen." He turns to face you and for some reason he seems more open and yet somehow distant. Like he's preparing for something.

You don't wait for him to say it, instead you tell him, "so this is where we part ways."

He flashes you one of his patent smiles, and deep in your heart you know you'll miss seeing those. He points Lucille down the path of the track in front of you. "You continue on down these tracks, you'll end up in Nashville. From there you'll have to find your way northwest to get to Seattle. It's a long trip," he sighs softly and you can't help the swell of sadness that suddenly washes over you.

He must see how sad you are cause he opens his arms wide. "C'mere," he says, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. Your heart is pounding fiercely, a part of you wishing you could stay with him, but you know it's not the right thing to do for you.

"You're stronger than you think," he tells you, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. "And if you ever come across a little asshole like Matt again-"

"I'll bash his fucking brains in!"

Your reply earns a warm laugh from Negan and he hugs you just a little tighter. "I'll miss you, you little savage!"

The sound of walkers shambling near by force you to finally pull away from Negan. "I'll miss you too, asshole."

He winks at you before turning away and smashing the skull of the nearest walker. You turn around and do the same, making your way along the tracks and killing any of the dead in your way. You feel stronger than you ever have, and now with a plan to go north you feel unstoppable!


Chapter Text

You sit on the couch for about ten minutes, just trying to calm your nerves and build up the courage to get him. You hear the water upstairs turn off, and know that it's either now or never.

As you slowly walk up the stairs, you swallow down the lump of anxiety in your throat. You're not a child anymore, and if you want to have sex it'll be on your terms. You won't be guilted into it by some loser like Matt. There are no happy endings but there can be happy moments, and if this can be a happy moment for the both of you, well then, you're going to take it. You pull your shirt off, breathing hard as you try to rid yourself of nervous energy. You pull your bra off too, and then your pants. *'Deep breaths, be calm,'* you tell yourself. You go to remove your panties too, but think better of it. If he does turn you down, you don't want to be completely exposed.

You take another deep breath and knock on the door gently.

"Still getting dressed, doll…" his words trail off as you step in anyways, stopping to stand in front of him. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, nothing but his unbuttoned pants on, and he doesn't say a word. Just watches you, even as you move closer, nudging his knees so that you can stand between his legs.

From this position you're looking down at him, and he looks torn. His hands are gripping the fabric of his pants, but his eyes- his eyes keep roaming up and down your body.

"What're'ya doin, kid," he says gently. You touch his face and bring your lips to his in a soft kiss.

"I keep telling ya, I'm not a kid," you say against his mouth.

Finally, he moves, sliding his hands over your waist until he's grabbing two large handfuls of your ass. He pulls your body closer and suddenly your met with the thick hard weight of his dick pressing against your thigh. You hear yourself gasp.

"No, I guess you're not," he says, taking in the sight of your naked body once more. "Feels more like a fever dream. I haven't gotten my dick wet since this mess began!" You feel a sudden rush of anxiousness bubble in your belly, but before you can dwell on it Negan brings your mouth to his once again.

He drags his thumb rough over your lips, guiding your jaw and turning your head so that he can more thoroughly kiss you. His lips are firmer than you'd imagined but they taste sweet and slightly sticky, like the peaches you'd eaten earlier. When he pulls away, you're breathless again, trembling as he lets his hands roam up and down your sides. You let yourself touch him back, feeling the rough stubble on his cheeks and the firm slope of his shoulders.

He leans into your touch and watches you with hungry eyes. It seems like he's waiting for you. You're in charge, and he's waiting for you to decide exactly what you want from him.

"I- um, I don't know what to do," you tell him honestly.

You almost expect him to end things right them and there. But instead he scans your body once more, running his hands along your frame, pinching the meat of your thighs before moving up and gently squeezing your breasts. His thumbs rolls over your nipples and you bite your lip to keep from moaning.

"You just tell me what you want, baby doll." He sounds nearly as breathless as you feel, "I'm all yours tonight."

God, the thought of it sends a wave of arousal right through you. His hair is slightly disheveled, wet and dripping little beads of water that roll off his broad shoulders. He's yours tonight and you want it. You want it all.

"Kiss me," you tell him, "everywhere."

That's all the permission he needs, and in a swift movement he wraps you in his arms, turns around and tosses you on the bed. His lips are everywhere as he crawls over you, kissing the curve of your neck and down the smooth expanse of your chest. His mouth is warm as he kisses against your stomach and the smooth curve of your thighs. Each kiss is followed by a gentle bite, his scruff leaving little stinging burns that he chases away with his tongue. It feels like his teasing you, as he presses hot kisses down the inner curve of your legs and your body nearly screams with anticipation.

Suddenly your body jumps with pleasure, warmth surging through you and settling in the pit of your belly. He flattens his tongue against your slit, licking down one fold and up the other. You bring your arm over your mouth to keep from moaning too loudly, but it seems useless as he begins to gently suck on your clit.

"That's it, baby," he growls, using his hand to spread you wider. You half expect him to start tongue fucking you, but instead he presses his middle finger against you, gently guiding it deep into your pussy.

Tears spring to your eyes, but not because of pain. The pleasure is immense, causing your legs to tremble and close around his head. Negan doesn't seem to mind at all, slipping another finger into you and suckling softly. His fingers are moving at a completely opposite rhythm from his mouth, and it's dragging your pleasure out, bringing you to the brink of orgasm just to drag you away from it.

Suddenly you're twisting your hands in his hair, begging him to let you come. His fingers slow down, and his tongue begins to roll slowly over your clit, matching the rough drag of his fingers. Your body is trembling so hard that Negan uses his other hand to pin your hips down.

A tightening coil pulls in your belly and you can't help the groan the slips from your lips, loud and guttural. You've never felt anything so intense, your insides burning with searing pleasure. It almost feels like too much and you gently tug at Negan's hair to pull him back. But Negan doesn't pull away, keeping his mouth hot against you until you're biting the pillow in over intense pleasure and squirming to get away.

"Oh, fuck, please," you beg, "too much!"

Finally Negan pulls his fingers back, gently suckling on your clit for a brief moment, just to watch you squirm a little more. You groan, throwing your head back as you wait for the torture to end. It's the best kind of torture and your body begins to tremble again.

Before you can begin to chase your second orgasm, Negan stands up, dropping his jeans and boxers to the floor. His dick is thick and hard, leaking enough precome that a bead of it threatens to drip down from it. Negan pushes his finger against the large drop of precome, smearing it over his tip before he starts jerking himself off with slow, rough strokes.

"Damn, you taste good," he says, licking his lips to emphasize his point.

You sit up, hoping to return the favor. You take his dick in your mouth, sucking earnestly and hoping you're doing it right. But Negan doesn't make a sound and you look up at him, mouth still wrapped around him.

His head is thrown back, mouth hanging open as the muscles of his belly twitch. You may not know what you're doing, but he seems to enjoy it all the same. So you take him a little deeper, trying not to choke on the sheer size of him. He feels so soft in your mouth, like you're sucking on a velvet rock. His hand reaches up and rests on your head, and you think for a second he might start thrusting deeper into your mouth. But instead he just runs his hands over your hair, and moans softly.

You use your tongue to knead little circles under his dick head, watching the way his muscles twitch determine what he likes best. Your other hand goes up to touch his balls experimentally. He moans again, a soft huff of air that quickly turns into a growl of pleasure as you give them a small tug. After a while your jaw begins to ache, and you pull your mouth of with a little pop.

"Lay back down, doll," he tells you. He sounds breathless again and your heart begins to race as you anticipate his next move.

You lay back, watching him as he goes to his bag and pulls a condom from a box of them. They look suspiciously like the kind Matt had found, and you feel your face scrunch in confusion.

Negan chuckles softly. "Condoms are waterproof- good for protecting sensitive equipment from bad weather," he says, answering your silent question.

You stay quiet and Negan stops to look at you. "This still what you want? We don't have to-"

"-I want to," you say quickly, your body trembling once more as he rolls the condom on.

He crawls over your body, kissing your mouth passionately. His hand reaches up, grabbing your neck and twisting your jaw so he can kiss you deeper. His other hand glides over your body, along your thigh and over your breast, gently pinching your nipple.

You gasp out loud, arching your body up and feeling his hard length press against your thigh.

He looks at you once more, silently asking if you're ready. A part of you feels like you'll never be ready, like jumping into a cold pool. But Negan's been gentle and kind and you're ready for something  good. You nod and as you do you feel Negan begin to push into you.

Your eyes slam shut as a slight burn begins to build. He so thick, and even with the preparing he gave you, it almost feels like too much. You grit your teeth as you wait for the pain to recede. You look up at Negan and his face is flushed, like he's using every ounce of will power not to thrust inside you.

"Good God damn, you are tight," he growls.

"Y-yea… well you're fucking huge," you groan.

"Am I hurting you?" He asks, a look of genuine concern on his face.

'A little,' you want to tell him, but instead you shake your head no, immediately panting as he rolls his hips, sending a surge of warmth through you. Any initial pain you felt is slowly replaced by a deep rolling pleasure. Negan lifts your legs higher and suddenly he feels deeper and your body is arching off the bed to compensate for the way your nerves are lit on fire.

You hear yourself moaning, saying his name and begging. You'd almost feel embarrassed, but it's all too good for you to give a damn. And the funny thing, you think, is that he's not even going fast. He's not pounding into you or thrusting hard and fast. Instead he's moving slow, letting his pelvis push against your pussy so it feels very much like when his mouth was on you. Only, this way is better because now his mouth is kissing everywhere. He's biting at your neck and chest, grabbing your breast and rolling his tongue over your nipples. It's too much, and before you can stop yourself you feel your body racing towards your release.

You feel yourself clench tightly against his dick. Negan groans deeply, quickening his pace and suddenly bringing your knees up to your chest. The release you were so close to achieving has slipped away and you arch your body in any attempt to get it back.

"Negan-" your voice fades as he begins pounding into you, the obscene sound of it echoing through the room. Your tits are bouncing with each movement and they tingle with sensitivity. You want nothing more than to feel Negan's mouth on them.

"Negan, please," you beg, reaching up to pinch your own nipples, twisting them just hard enough that a slight sting of pain jolts through your body. You hiss through your teeth, as Negan crashes his body over you, kissing you roughly.

"So close, (y/n)… So fuckin close," he says between kisses, plunging his tongue into your mouth and tasting you.

You pull away, breathing harshly. "Negan, kiss them," you ask, squeezing your breasts once more, "please."

Negan kisses your mouth once more, before bending slightly, suckling your nipple between his teeth. For a moment it hurts, a sharp pain sending a surge of adrenaline through you. But just as quickly, Negan soothes it, his tongue rolling over the nub of your nipple, and it's all it takes for your release to come fast and hard. The room seems to spin as he quickens his pace, your over sensitive body trembling with the effort to not scream.You cling to Negan as a deep groan rumbles through his chest, his body going rigid as he finally orgasms, and he slows his relentless post orgasm torture of your body. You kiss his neck softly, enjoying the hazy after glow.

After a moment, he pulls out of you, tying the condom and tossing it to the corner of the room. You're not sure what to do, so you get up to go get your clothes, but Negan's hand in yours stops you.

"Lay with me a little, baby doll," he asks gently, patting the bed side beside him.

You consider getting up anyways, showing Negan that he's not the only one who can be an asshole, but your body is still humming with residual pleasure that you're just not willing to lose yet. So you lay back down, allowing Negan to wrap an arm around you as he slips into a deep sleep. A small smile pulls at your lips because you didn't really see him as a post sex cuddler. You sigh happily, allowing yourself to build at least one happy memory since this whole walking dead mess started.

You fall asleep quickly and when you wake, Negan is still fast asleep beside you. The sun is just making it's way over the horizon, so you put on your clothes and grab some paper from a drawer in the kitchen.



        I'm going to find my mother. I know you said no happy endings but I'm going to try to find mine.
  I hope you find your happy ending.

         Thank you for saving me and thank you for the great sex!
                                                          -- little savage, (y/n)


As much as you want to stay, you know now that you have to build your own happiness. You don't wait for Negan to wake up, instead you leave quietly, making your way down the train tracks until you run into Matt's corpse. His body is partially eaten and you wonder how he wound up dead.

A part of you almost feels bad for him, but the thought of Matt being the one to take your virginity instead of the tender way Negan was, makes any feelings of sympathy quickly fade away. Instead you watch as Matt's corpse gnashes it's teeth at you, his body too torn to even crawl.

You point your axe handle at him before you wink and turn away. You know where you're going and you're confident you'll get there. A swell of joy courses through you, and you turn to shout over your shoulder to Matt.

"No happy endings, bastard!"