𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 -Negan x Reader

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"Dean, I don't-"

"Close the door.", he orders with a wild look in his eyes

You debate on running. He's going to pull the trigger the second you twitch in a way he doesn't like. You hold your hands up as you kick the door closed. You keep your eyes on him, trying not to look at the gun. His hands don't shake and he doesn't blink. You've never seen him this calm with a gun in his hand. Maybe he's been replaying this scenario in his head much in the way you have, plotting and preparing for it. Of course, you didn't plan on being on this end of the gun.

"Over there.", he spits, flicking the gun to the couch.

"You-"

"Over there!", he shouts, becoming red in the face.

You take slow steps to the couch, hands still up, trying not to get yourself killed. Slowly, you sit on the worn, brown leather couch.

My gun. I have to get to the bedroom.

"Simon told me you've been talking to Negan.", he tells you, staring you down with a cold glare.

The gun is still aimed at your head. Do you try to lie? Do you tell the truth? It seems like there's only one ending to this no matter what you try to say.

"Negan came and got me from work.", you explain with a shake in your voice.

"What did he say?", he asks seemingly getting angrier.

I have to lie.

"He asked me if you had said anything about not wanting to lead collections from the communities .", you say as honest sounding as you can muster.

"He came all the way down to your shitty little job and pulled you from work to ask you that? Do I look fucking stupid to you?", he asks taking a step forward and tilting his head.

The barrel of the gun is inches from your face now. You can almost see your reflection in the glint of the steel. You're shaking. You can't breathe.

This is it.

"Dean I swear to god. That's what he asked me. I guess he didn't want anybody to think you couldn't handle it so he asked me in private.", you spew as fast as you can, trying anything to get him to move his finger off of the trigger.

He gives you another hard look. It almost looks as if he's arguing with himself internally. You look at him with pleading eyes, but to no avail, he presses the gun right to your temple.

"No.", he mutters, pulling back the hammer.

You shut your eyes as tightly as you can, tears streaming down your face. Earlier you thought you were ready to face death. You couldn't have been more wrong.

Knock knock knock.

Your eyes fly open and focus on the door. You look back to Dean who is still locked onto you, now just as shaken up as you are.

"Better get that.", you say coldly.

It's now or never. He has to answer.

As soon as he turns his head to look toward the door you throw yourself at him. You both come crashing down to the floor, shattering the glass coffee table on the way. The gun fires right by your head as he falls to the ground. The gun slips from his grip and goes sliding across the glass-covered floor. You attempt to crawl to the gun, glass crunching and piercing through the palms of your hands, ears ringing.

Pain sears through your scalp, and you can hear your hair being ripped out of your head, letting out a cry as he yanks you back. Grabbing you by the throat he gets on top of you, squeezing with so much force you think your head might pop off. You choke, gasping for just a breath of air. Your hands tremble, feeling around for anything to use to get him off of you. Finding a shard of glass you look him in the eye as your drive it into his neck with all the strength you have.