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missshezz · 2 years

Text

Title: Lost & Found

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: None apply

Tags: Angst, Drama, Follows Here’s Negan (TWD tv universe), grief, shock, parental suicide, you POV (2nd person narration) as a kid. Negan is not a bastard here. Deals with death.

Word Count: 1300 words

Summary: Negan finds you after burning his house down

The flames greedily consumed your house. You stood there as everything you owned in the world was consumed in the blaze.

You were only gone a few hours.

A quick run into town to search for baby wipes, formula, and diapers for Mikey.

You couldn’t help the Vipers were out on the prowl and needed to hide.

How your mom managed to get around the block you setup in case she took notion, you didn’t know.

Somehow, she had, and managed to get into the garage where all the gas dad stockpiled when things started getting bad was.

I should’ve waited for Mrs. Hinkley to get back from her mercy mission.

I should’ve waited for nighttime to go scavenging.

I should’ve given her the last of her medicine so she’d’ve slept the whole day.

So many should’ve’s you could’ve done.

Things you would’ve done had somebody told you to do them.

Nobody was there, though.

It’s just you and your eleven-month-old brother, Mikey.

Your cousin, Ashley took off with Mrs. Hinkley’s granddaughter, Nina after the government instituted worldwide lockdowns to slow the spread of the disease.

Not that it worked.

Your older sisters got sick and were taken to the hospital.

Neither of ‘em got better.

You overheard Grandpa Joe tell Mrs. Hinkley that their bodies were taken to the crematorium.

You figured he told her the truth given the cloud of smoke always in that vicinity.

Grandpa Joe, Uncle Ed, and Auntie Barbara took sick then and also went to the hospital.

They never came home.

Your other cousin, Raymond got himself killed by the Vipers when he refused to give ‘em the medicine he bartered for.

And your dad?

Well, he either went and got himself bit while he tried to get your mom’s medicine or he got killed like Raymond by the Vipers.

You didn’t for one minute believe what Mrs. Hinkley said.

Your dad wouldn’t’ve left you to take care of your mom and Mikey.

He might’ve been a jerk at times but your dad always took care of you and your siblings.

Nope, far as you were concerned, your dad got killed. It was the only reason you’d accept for why he didn’t return home when he told you he would.

There was a loud groan a split-second before the roof of your house caved in.

Plumes of smoke and ribbons of bright orange flame billowed up towards the moonless sky in an almost hypnotic dance.

Burning plastic, wood, metal, and another, foul stench stunk up the air.

You didn’t dare think ‘bout what that last smell was.

You’d be sick if you did.

A twig snapped behind you.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you imagined it being one of them.

You didn’t know if that was the right word to refer to them by. You’d heard ‘em called loads of things: infected, biters, walkers, creepers…

To you they’re just the unfortunate.

A buncha people who hadn’t figured out they were dead.

Your dad told you the only way to kill one of ‘em was to either shoot ‘em in the head or stab ‘em between the eyes.

You hadn’t had to do that.

Until now.

How you’d accomplish it, you didn’t know.

Your dad took the only guns your family had with him when he left, your knife wasn’t sharp enough to cut paper, and you had your baby brother — who you wisely decided to take with you rather than leave home with mom — strapped to your back.

You slowly turned, terrified of what — not who ‘cause the unfortunate weren’t people anymore — you’d find.

A guy with a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire wasn’t what you anticipated. Eyes as dark as yours stared first at the flames devouring the last section of your house before shifting to you.

“What happened, kid?”

Shame smothered your fear and panic. What kid wanted to admit their mom burned their house down ‘cause the voices inside her head convinced her too?

Your mind works feverishly on an answer he wouldn’t call out as a lie. You settle on, “It was an accident,” because it seemed safe enough.

He doesn’t believe it, though.

Not for one minute.

And he ain’t afraid to let you know he doesn’t buy your story.

“An accident, huh?” He pointed to a large red can in the middle of the yard. “That gasoline pour itself out? Light itself?”

Your shoulders droop.

Your eyes lowered to the ground.

Tears blurred your vision.

You tried to hold ‘em back.

Be a grown-up.

You aren’t an adult, though.

You’re a kid.

You shouldn’t be dealing with any of this.

You should be somewhere safe, protected by your folks, and doing everything you can to help them as they struggle to survive in this strange new world.

There wasn’t anybody else there, though.

Just you.

“My mom,” you mumbled into your chest. “She got real sick after she had Mikey. Heard voices that told her to hurt herself. They told her to do it.”

“What the fuck?” Shock and other things you couldn’t identify vibrated in his voice. “You saying your mom is in there?”

You nod as another groan pierced the silence. You looked back just as the walls of the house tumbled inwards.

More smoke and flame billowed forth.

Mikey, quiet throughout everything, whimpered.

He’d start fussing for feeding or changing before too long. Thankfully, you found formula, diapers, and some clothes in the house you hid from the Vipers in.

You just had no bottles to put the formula in or a way to warm it.

Mrs. Hinkley probably has a few bottles in her place I could take, you supposed as you murmured softly to Mikey to quiet him.

It wasn’t lost on you that an infant depended on you for his sole survival.

A twelve year old kid shouldn’t be raising one.

It wasn’t fair.

Not that life was, you realized as the man released a heavy sigh.

No, it was cold and cruel.

Much like this world.

“C’mon, kid.” He placed a surprisingly gentle hand on your shoulder. “Time to go.”

“I don’t got any place to go.”

“Nobody around here will take in a couple of orphaned kids?”

“Mrs. Hinkley probably let us stay with her but she’s off on one of her mercy missions. Don’t know when she’ll be back.”

If she’d be back.

This world taught you there was no guarantee on people coming back.

From the corner of your eye you spotted a few ramshackle figures coming up the street.

Attracted by the fire and the smell you refused to acknowledge.

The man must’ve caught sight of ‘em, too, because he said curtly, “You’re coming with me then.”

Every lesson you were taught about strangers screamed through your head.

Don’t go with ‘em being first and foremost.

Something, though, convinced you to trust him.

“Where we goin’?”

“As far from this shithole as we can get.”

He led you over to the motorcycle parked in your best friend’s driveway.

Kylie and his family got sick same time as your sisters.

Were probably taken to the crematorium with them, too.

“Mister?”

“It’s just Negan, kid. And this?” He indicated the bat he slid into a special pouch. “This is Lucille. And she is awesome.”

You didn’t know why a baseball bat was so awesome, but given you had a knife about as useful as a pencil against a gun, you figured it made sense.

Nothing else did.

“Hop on,” Negan told you. “And hold on tight.”

You did as told.

Wasn’t like you had much choice.

You were just a kid, after all.

A twelve year old one.

With a baby you now gotta raise.

‘Cause your mom burned your house down.

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan #negan #negan x reader #Reader is a kid #twd negan #twd fanfiction #twd fandom #here’s Negan #Scorp writes fanfiction

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detachedminxsfics · 2 years

Text

Spit

Read Part II

Characters: Negan x Alexandrian F!Reader, Maggie, Gabriel, Elijah

Summary: Negan and you were split from the rest of the group, and when he decides the mission is a lost cause, a fight ensues. Set in the events of S11 E5.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Warnings: NSFW - Rough vaginal sex, spitting, mild choking, very mild blood play, hate fuck, dom Negan, mortal enemies, humiliation, xtra DILFy S11 Negan, filthiest shit I've ever written tbh

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, I needed to write some Negan angst. And I'm tempted to write a part two? 😫

Negan trailed behind you as you pushed open the door to the place you knew the group would attempt to regroup at, your gun raised vigilantly in order to scan your surroundings. When you saw nothing of concern you slipped your pistol back into your holster, settling down a little knowing you'd have to spend a considerable amount of time here. Until the sound of a familiar voice put tension in the air.

"So, what? We hang around here with our fingers up our asses just hoping that the others are alive, letting those assholes catch up to us?" Negan broke the silence, and you already hoped he had never said anything in the first place.

You, Negan, Maggie, Alden, Gabriel, Daryl and whoever else may be left had been split, and unfortunately, you ended up with Negan. You'd ended up taking the same cover in a fire fight, and he pulled you with him when the two of you made a run for it.

"I'm not abandoning my friends, but I wouldn't expect you to understand that." You bit back, glaring at him with cold narrowed eyes.

Alike Maggie, you'd never really forgiven Negan for what he did that one dark night, taking two of your family like that. Abraham and Glenn were good men, more than that, and they didn't deserve to be put down in that way. It made you sick to have to visually reflect upon it, so much of that night was a blur, yet vivid in the worst of parts.

"You know what, yeah, I don't. We've got some supplies, and we don't even know if the others are alive, why not take the win now? Get ahead of those shitdicks, and not wait around here to die like sitting ducks for people that are probably already dead."

What was left of your patience thinned out and crumbled, for it was never really all that durable when it came to Negan anyway.

"Just shut up! Fuck you, Negan. They're alive, and they'll be coming here, and we're gonna wait for them whether you like it or not. So sit, down." The venom in your words couldn't be anymore potent, clear as day as you snapped and raised your voice at him.

You caught him clenching his jaw, suppressing the urge to turn this into a screaming match, and it fell silent again. Having figured the matter had been resolved or somewhat stifled you headed over to your bag and sifted through your things, making sure you still had all of your belongings, until you heard shuffling. When you looked up to investigate the source of the sound Negan was packing, gathering his bags and some of the supplies that we'd scavenged. Things people had risked and lost their lives for.

"What do you think you're doing?" You began to interrogate him, approaching him to stand with your arms crossed against your chest completely stand-offish.

"I'm leaving." He answered bluntly, a short response meant to minimise your frustration, but it only worsened.

"Not with those supplies." You reaffirmed just as bluntly, leading Negan to sigh in response.

"I'm taking 'em back to Alexandria." Negan replied plainly, every offhanded response from him fuelling the fire of your rage more and more.

"You don't just get to cop out like this, there are responsibilities. This mission isn't over."

There was no guarantee that those supplies would make it back to Alexandria in his hands, and you wouldn't let his self-pitiful attitude go unnoticed.

"It is for me."

For him, for him? It was always about what Negan needed, what Negan wanted. What about what your people wanted, what Alexandria needs? His selfish tendencies were the final step in urging you over breaking point, and so you succumbed to your irritation, albeit in a very high school way. You snatched the handle of the bag he was holding from his hand and tossed it aside, giving him a hard shove that sent him stumbling back a few steps. He responded rather hastily by seizing your forearms, attempting to dissuade you from attacking him any further. You only thrashed against his grip, grunting your frustration inbetween your attempts to pull your arms from his hold. With all the momentum the two of you began to turn, heading in an entirely different direction as Negan furrowed his brows and attempted to snap you of it.

"Stop it!" Negan belted out, his gravelly voice booming from having raised his voice at you.

It didn't deter you though, and you continued to struggle until you eventually freed yourself, slamming your hands hard against his chest and leaving him attempting to find balanced footing again. With the force of that final push a space had formed between the two of you, both of you cautious as to whether one or the other would be the first to close it, to continue fighting one another. But you did neither, just stared at one another. That dark look in his eye was swirling again, a murderous stare that you knew all too well, and you were sure you were doing the same. You were panting from loss of breath due to how much energy you had just expended, but Negan stood untempered. Negan was the first to move, beginning a slow approach that had you stepping back from him further and further. Though he moved in small steps distance was closing fast, and you felt the internal panic when you felt a hard solid wall press up against your back, having backed yourself into the hypothetical corner.

"Shit." You muttered quietly, Negan taking his final few steps until he was directly opposite you, your chest practically pressed against his. He said nothing, and his stare remained unintelligible, simply looming over you without one word.

"Fuck you." Unashamed you made one last dig at him, and alarmingly enough, Negan smiled at you.

"If it'd shut you up for good, happily." He spoke lowly, his husky words right by your ear.

The response from him so sincere and unabashed you could feel your blood boiling, and you settled with the first thing that came to mind. Gathering some of the saliva in your mouth you parted your lips slightly and then quickly closed them, spitting right in his face. He groaned as he felt the wetness hit his cheek, reaching up and wiping his face dry with the back of his fingerless gloves, never once breaking eye contact with you. To your misfortune the saliva you'd kindly deposited onto his face was not enough to humiliate him entirely, but had some of the desired effect you had wanted. Negan looked riled, though he had tried to remain complacent the faint squint of his eyes gave him away, and the subtle clench to his jaw as he stared you down. Wordlessly, he flattened his palms against the wall either side of your head, entrapping you in the position you'd incidentally put yourself in.

"Open your mouth." Negan demanded bitterly, and you felt your cheeks fill with heat, utterly stupefied by what he had just asked you to do.

"Hell no." You bit back, earning a dangerous warning stare from Negan.

"Open your damn mouth."

You stared at him firm in your decision not to, and he waited a few moments before realising you wouldn't budge, and decided to handle you accordingly. With unanticipated rapid movements one of the palms Negan had flattened against the wall he'd snatched back and used to grip your jaw, applying pressure at the sides so hard and in such a way it began to force your mouth open. Forcibly Negan parted your lips, and you whined against his pressurised touch, restrained into anticipating his next move. Gathering the fluids best he could Negan brought all of his spit to the front of his tongue and leaned in enough to the point where he knew it would land on your tongue, spitting hard into your open mouth. You coughed a little from the shock of Negan's spit flying into your mouth, some of it escaping down your throat, only earning an approving chuckle from him.

"You liked that, didn't you, me spitting in your pretty little mouth? Be honest with me, I'll know if you're not."

The fact that Negan had recognised the shift in your expression before you even knew yourself startled you, like he could see through any deception or emotions you may have. Disturbingly enough, you'd enjoyed it to some extent. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from having taken out some of your frustrations on him, and spitting in his face after telling him to go fuck himself, but other feelings had began to surface. Urges that you couldn't quite distinguish.

"In your dreams." You remonstrated, not quite as firmly as you had hoped when you sounded it out in your head.

Negan grinned in response to your obvious dismay of the way that being manhandled by him made you feel, coming to terms with his own enjoyment of treating you like this.

"Oh don't worry, you're a goddamn nightmare."

Negan slammed his lips against yours, and it was like a floodgate had been opened, emotions and chemical reactions amongst other things consuming you entirely. You moved your lips back against his, attempting to keep up with the roughness. His stubble skimmed across your skin as you decided to nip his lip a little, drawing blood and causing him to groan into your mouth.

"Shit, should've known you'd be a freaky one." Negan commented as he swiped his thumb across his lip, gathering some of the blood there and smearing it across your own.

You kissed again, a hard and rough movement of one another's mouths, smearing his blood across both of your lips. In hungry movements Negan began to gather the fabric of your shirt in his hands, putting adequate tension on the material before yanking it hard. You gasped as you felt cool air hit your skin, he'd ripped your damn shirt open, the buttons flying onto the ground beneath you and pinging against the wood floor to reveal your tight fitting tank top underneath.

"Negan!" You exasperated, swatting him on the arm from the shock of what he had done.

He only snickered from having exposed you in such a way, closing his hand around the wrist of the hand you'd used to swat him with a firm grip and slamming it back against the wall, your knuckles faintly stinging from the impact of the collision.

"Oh c'mon, you can have mine." Negan suggested, not giving you time to respond as you felt his lips again.

Negan's fingers hooked in the hem of your tank top and began to hike the fabric up, pulling back momentarily only to help yank the top over your head. He threw it carelessly onto the floor, and you decided to return the favour. Unlike him, you unbuttoned his wrinkled blue shirt from bottom to top. Meticulously sliding your fingers beneath the material at the top of his shoulders and pushing it down his arms. The moment his shirt had gathered at his wrists you reached around and pulled from the back, tossing it into an area somewhere around yours. The moments to come were spent removing your clothes as fast as you could, a desire brewing deep within your body, a vile way to feel for him. It made you sick. With your panties dangling loosely around one of your ankles, your tank top hiked up your chest just enough to expose your breasts, Negan hoisted you up. He'd discarded the light grey tshirt he wore beneath his blue one, chest now bare to expose his generously hairy chest and the beaded necklace hanging just below his collarbone. With hands gripping the skin beneath your thighs he wedged himself in the space between them, using the way he'd mushed you between the wall and himself to support you whilst he worked at the zipper of his jeans, pushing it down until it came slack at his calves. He was left in nothing but boxers.

"I've always wondered what you looked like beneath those clothes, and your body is smokin'." Negan knew that subtle tease would piss you off, and you responded by glaring at him, wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

"Don't speak, at least not right now, just fuck me. Hopefully you can prove useful for once." You rebuked, and Negan raised his brows to feign offense.

"Ohh is that so? We'll see about that."

During your back and forth snapping he'd pushed his boxers down and lined himself up with you, slamming upward without warning. His hands returned to the underside of your thighs whilst you cried out in pain, him not even bothering to ease you into it. He didn't wait for you to adjust either, moving his hips as he groaned from the feeling of being inside you. The pain eased off rather fluidly, and you were left with the most reprehensible satisfaction. Negan ground into you, totally unbridled thrusts that had you whining so pathetically you were sure you'd attract a horde, or be heard for miles.

"That's what I fucking thought, do you like this baby? You like being used huh?"

Overwhelmed with your conflicting feelings for him you unwrapped one of your arms from his neck and slapped him, a harsh hit that had Negan grumbling from the sharp pain in his cheek. He groaned and took one of his hands from your thigh, placing it on your throat with the faintest pressure, it was more an injunction.

"Keep your hands to yourself or I'll tie 'em, do you want me to stop?"

You were quick to admonish him from stopping, a hint of desperation in your tone that had you realise you were damn near begging him not to.

"No no, Negan don't stop. Please..."

He grinned at your plead, his half lidded eyes haughty with arrogance. He'd leaned forward now, his forehead tipped against yours whilst his hand remained around your throat, noses brushing as you exchanged air panting hot breath into one another's mouths. This was filthy, sinful even. The dirty feeling of being so full, full of him, the pleasure he filled you with subduing you into this breathy mess. You couldn't think about anything other than his hard and fast thrusts, your hips connecting with every unconstrained movement. The group could return at any moment, walk in on Negan bottoming you out against the wall of an abandoned house, but you weren't entirely sure either of you cared. To finally give each other something worth giving, to put all the burning hatred and distaste you had for one another to use was addicting. Intoxicating.

"Holy shit." You fell into a string of curses, your one way of vocalising the feeling of knotting in your abdomen, trembles working their way through your legs.

Fuelled by your approaching release you moved your hands down from the nape of his neck to the back of his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin and clawing your way down his back making Negan grit his teeth. Negan was agonisingly close too, his face buried in the crook of your neck and occasionally sucking marks into the skin there. When he knew he was about to tip you over the edge he moved his head back, his face coming back to lie in front of yours again. Strands of hair had fallen from his impromptu slick, cascading over his sweat beaded skin and leaving him totally disheveled. Knowing that you caused this, made him look like that was a confidence boost to say the least, and it only helped to fuel your impending orgasm. Frantically the hand he'd left resting against your throat moved up to hold your jaw, less harshly than he had before, but firm. He was holding your head to leave you with no choice but to face him directly, meeting his eye with the utmost devout attention.

"That's it baby, I wanna see you, I want to remember how you looked when I gave you the best fucking of your life." He murmured, mesmerised by the look of pleasure etched across your features.

Unsurprisingly you came undone, wholly ruined as one of the most intense orgasms you had ever felt ripped through you. Your mewls filled the room, and you squeezed your eyes shut, head aching to tip back but unable to due to his touch. He watched with unashamed inclination, basking in it as he reached his own release. With appropriate haste he removed himself from you and emptied his release onto the floor, coarse groans joining your own faded whimpers. Subsequently riding out both of your vehement highs you remained holding one another. Your legs wrapped loosely around his waist and your hair messy, the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing stabilised becoming gradually softer. Your head was resting against his chest, and he started running his fingers through your hair, wordlessly sharing this earnest moment with one another. Every part of you still hated him, wanted to hurt him for all the pain he'd caused you and the people you cared for, but you could see through your own blinding hatred for the first time in years. The feeling was only temporary, but you savored it for what you could. To be at peace.

"We need to get dressed, can you help me?" You were faintly embarrassed to ask, but your legs were still too shaky to stand on unsupported, and the adrenaline hadn't subsided much either.

"Alright." He whispered, planting a meek kiss at the top of your head.

Neither of you thought too much of it, and Negan helped you dress presentable again. He rolled your tank top down your body and helped slip his blue shirt on you, buttoning a few of the buttons and practically resembling the way he usually wore it. Then he guided your panties back up your legs and hauled your jeans up past your thighs, your palms resting against his shoulders as he bent down to assist you in order to allow you the support you needed to maintain balance. By time he'd helped you dress you were feeling a little better, doing your best to ignore the sure soreness you'd feel in your crotch soon enough. Negan pulled his pants and boxers up from his ankles, pulling his grey tee over his head and dusting off any dust and residue it'd gathered from the floor. His arms were exposed now, but it'd have to do until you found something else for you to cover up with. He was the one who caused this issue in the first place, so rightly he paid the consequences. Now fully dressed you stood opposite one another, gazing in an untold way that only the two of you would ever know the reason behind, and the door opened. Startled you turned to watch the door and had your hand readied over your pistol, Negan too readily raising his crowbar. Relieved both of you lowered your weapons and wary demeanours when Maggie and Elijah supporting a worse for wear Gabriel walked through the door, and you sighed, a smile spreading across your face. You hurried over and threw your arms around Maggie, which she more than happily returned.

"You made it." Maggie leaned back to get a good look at you, sharing a moment with you whilst Gabriel closed the door behind them.

When she noticed the change of shirt, most noticeably the fact that you were wearing Negan's, she glanced over at him, looking back and forth between the two of you.

"What the hell happened to you two?" Maggie exclaimed, both intrigued and concerned.

You opened your mouth to speak and stumbled over your words a little, causing Negan to chime in.

"One of those reaper assholes got the jump on her, and her shirt got messed up. I gave her mine." Negan explained from the other side of the room, the two of you exchanging glances as you silently thanked him for his excuse.

It wasn't a total lie, but he had bent the truth, that was for sure. There had been a tussle with a reaper in question, but you won it indefinitely, and you took cover as a gunshot flew past your head just afterwards. That's when your paths had crossed. Maggie nodded and held your face in her hands, your eyebrow and cheek had gotten busted, and Negan was worse for wear too. You supposed a rough fuck after the chaos you and Negan had gotten out of wasn't the brightest idea, your bones achy and brittle now.

"Let's rest up a little, gather our strength." She suggested and you nodded in agreement.

Maggie went on to explain to you the both fates and unknown whereabouts of the others scattered in the surrounding area, and how those presumably alive were still out there. And so you spoke simply, a sincere suggestion that you were sure everybody but Negan shared a desire to uphold.

"So we wait."

You briefly turned to look at Negan, and you could see how his eyes were faintly narrowed with his disapproval of the idea, but you could care less. And he knew you did too. You were back at each other's throats again, and you couldn't have loved it more.

#the walking dead negan #negan x y/n #negan x you #twd negan #negan smith #here's negan #negan fic #negan smut #the walking dead #negan twd #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan

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