𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 -Negan x Reader

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The rain makes the most soothing sounds as it pats onto the tin roof of the cabin. The rocking chair creaks with each light push of your foot against the porch. Your fingers are loosely wrapped around the neck of the nearly empty liquor bottle. The alcohol coursing through your veins creates a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You haven't been alone throughout the entirety of the apocalypse until now. It's been two weeks since your exile. Two lonely, long weeks. Alone with nothing but your spinning thoughts and a bottle of crown. You've scoured the cabin looking for just one more bottle but this was it. The liquor being the only thing that drowns out your thoughts, you're not sure if you can ever go without it. You've been taking it slow, a few sips just to take the edge off. As bad of an idea it is, you're going to have to go out and get more.

You thought Negan would've come back, and explained whatever it was that happened the last time you saw each other. He didn't, and you don't think he ever will. You don't know why you're so caught up in the idea of him. It was a moment of lust, nothing more. You told yourself you didn't want anything intimate or romantic ever again, but you find yourself rummaging through your memories trying to pick out the parts with Negan and put them on repeat. You still can't recall the entails of the last night you had spent with him. Maybe that had something to do with why he got rid of you and never came back.

You grab the bottle and swirl the brown liquid in the bottom. Being here is peaceful but you're beginning to get bored. Staring at the bottle, you remember passing a town on your way here. You don't exactly remember how far it is but at this point, you don't care, you just need more of the good stuff.
You rock yourself up onto your feet, stumbling slightly at the sudden move. The door opens with a soft whine as you head into the house to get your bag. You find it on your bed, clothes scattered around it. Upon shaking the bag out, Dwight's gun falls out with a soft plop onto the mattress. You take it into your hand, examining the dinged-up, well-used firearm.

You pull the clip out, 7 bullets, and one in the chamber. Hopefully, you won't have to use any of them. Tucking it into your waistband, you slide the straps of your backpack over your shoulders. You take your hunting knife from your nightstand and attach the sheath to your belt. One would think that you would be satisfied with the peace and quiet you've been gifted, but you prove otherwise.

-

Rain pats your shoes as you pass the broken, weathered 'Town of Elk Run' sign. You pass a few small buildings, windows broken, and vines growing up the sides. Your eyes quickly train on the 'liquor' sign hanging by one bolt on the side of a neglected building. You get a pep in your step crossing the street, careful to avoid tripping over debris.
Hearing a gargling snarl, your head snaps in its direction. One of the dead stumbles out from behind what used to be a boutique. It looks to be only one of them. You pull your knife from its sheath and size it up. It's been a long time since you last killed one of these. You don't want to fuck up and get cocky after getting this far and get bit.

It gnashes it's broken, rotted teeth at you as it slumps hurriedly in your direction. You ready your knife and meet it halfway, driving your knife into its eye socket. The thing crumples to the ground, the putrid smell filling your nostrils. You had forgotten just how terrible they reek. You rip the knife from its skull and wipe the blade off on its tattered shirt.

"Easy peasy.", you say to yourself watching the black blood leak into the rain puddle.

You give it one last disgusted look before sauntering to the liquor store. The windows are shattered and the door looks to be kicked in. At some point, somebody had the same idea as you. It gives you some sort of comfort knowing you're not the only one with fucked up priorities. You hope that they weren't as greedy as you plan on being.

Glass crunches under your foot as you step inside the broken door. Shattered bottles litter the entirety of the floor. The shelves are mostly bare and dust flies upon you entering, stirring up what seems to not have been touched in a long time. You scan the small store vigorously, trying to find at least a drop left. You round the aisles and find a bottle of Jose Cuervo sitting untouched, covered in a thick layer of dust. Even in the end of the world, nobody wanted Jose Cuervo. Except for you, it seems nobody was as desperate as you are now. You stuff it swiftly into your bag, wiping the dust off onto your pants.

"Hey come look over here!", you hear a man's voice shout outside.

You hunker down behind one of the aisles, heart pounding. You can't hear their footsteps over the rain. There's no good way to tell how many there are. You hold your breath, trying to minimize the noise to hear them.

"It's fresh, somebody was just here.", you faintly hear another man's voice.

They could be good people, but you're not willing to take that risk. The chance of there being one good man is slim to none, let alone two good men. You peek from around the aisle and find three men examining the body you left out in the street. They're all slim and dirty, probably hungry, and no place to call home. You're definitely not taking the risk of revealing yourself, hoping they're good.

"Be on the lookout they might still be here.", the tallest man with grown-out, black hair orders.

With that, they break their little huddle. You jerk back behind the isle, doing your best to not get spotted. Training your breathing, you try to keep cool and plan an escape. It doesn't help that you're stuck in the loudest building you could be in, even a twitch will break the glass on the floor and alert them of you. There is no back room or other way out. It's the front door or nothing. You're not going to be able to fight all of them, the only option you have is to run. It's a terrible plan but it's all you have.

The sound of glass snapping under a boot echoes through the store. Your eyes widen and your body tenses up. The sound of your heartbeat almost drowns out everything else. A couple more footsteps trudge through the glass, he seems to be walking around the back side of the aisle, giving you the clearest shot to the door that you're going to get. Adrenaline courses through your veins up until the moment you launch yourself from your crouched position. You move faster than you ever have before, making a beeline for the door. You cut your arm on a shard of glass protruding out of the broken door.

"Hey!", the man yells at you as you sprint out onto the street.

You hear him trample through the store, running after you. Your steps hit the ground at a much faster rate than his. You see the woods through an alley between two buildings and run as hard as you can, never looking back. Just as you make it through the alley, just feet from being home free, a set of arms grab ahold of you.

"What do we have here?", the man sneers into your ear.

You writhe and kick with everything you have. The smell coming off of him was almost as bad as the dead's. You instinctively feel for your knife as you try to fight him off.

"Can I get some help over here? This bitch-", he doesn't finish his sentence and lets out a wail of pain as you drive your knife into his leg.

He throws you to the wet ground and tries to pry the knife from his thigh. Without a thought, you pull your gun from your waistband and squeeze the trigger. His body falls limp and blood seeps from the wound on his forehead.

"She killed Terry!"

Bullets whiz past you as the two other men fire shots at you. You fire back two shots and dash off into the woods but before you get too far you get hit in the shoulder. The pain sears through the adrenaline but you don't stop. You know you're dead or worse if they catch you.

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Sorry for the slow updates lol