The bass thumps through your body as you sway to the music, your dress clinging to your curves while unfamiliar hands grip your hips. You're vaguely aware of the sweaty bodies surrounding you, but you don't care. It's easier this way—distracting yourself with the noise, the lights, the strangers who don't know who you are or what you've done.
You tilt your head back, letting out a breathless laugh as another shot is pressed into your hand. You down it without hesitation, feeling the burn as it slides down your throat. The liquid courage does little to fill the empty void inside you.
You're heartless now. It's easier that way.
The song changes, and you peel yourself away from the stranger's embrace, stumbling back to the bar. The world around you feels like it's spinning, and you can't tell if it's the alcohol or the weight of your own grief.
"Can I get a glass of bourbon?" you ask, slurring slightly as you catch yourself on the edge of the bar.
The bartender, a familiar face by now, raises an eyebrow. "Keys, Faith."
You roll your eyes but toss your car keys onto the counter. "Happy?"
He pockets them with a smirk. "Not until I see you leave with someone sober."
You let out a bitter laugh, downing the bourbon in one go. The taste reminds you of him—of the man you once loved, of the nights you spent curled up together with whiskey on your breath and laughter in the air.
The sun beats down on you as you shield your eyes with a hand, scanning the desert base. It's your first tour, and you're still getting used to the heat, the dust, the chaos of it all. You're nervous, but you wear a brave face, nodding politely at the soldiers who pass by.
"You look lost," a voice calls out, and you turn to see a man leaning against a Humvee, his grin wide and disarming.
"Maybe I am," you admit with a playful smile, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders. "First tour. Figured I'd get a lay of the land."
"Well, lucky for you, I'm the best tour guide this side of the Euphrates," he jokes, extending his hand. "Nate Vance. And you are?"
You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. "Y/N Y/L/N. Fresh out of training and apparently in need of a guide."
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, Y/N, how about I start with the essentials? This," he gestures to the makeshift barracks, "is where we pretend to get sleep. And over there," he points to a small tent, "is where we make the worst coffee you'll ever taste."
You laugh, the sound surprising you. It's been so long since the last time you laughed, "Worst coffee, huh? I'll be the judge of that."
"You're on," Nate grins, leading you toward the tent. The conversation flows easily, filled with teasing banter and shared stories. You find yourself hanging on every word he says, mesmerized by the way he talks, the way he makes you feel seen.
The two of you end up sitting on the ground, sharing a laugh over a cup of the promised terrible coffee. He leans in closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, I never thought I'd meet someone like you out here."
Your breath catches as he holds your gaze, the moment stretching out between you. It feels like the world has slowed down, like nothing else exists except the two of you.
You lean in, closing the distance, and press your lips to his. It's soft and sweet, filled with unspoken promises. You don't know it yet, but this is the beginning of something real, something you'll carry with you for the rest of your life.
Your chest feels tight, and you press a hand to your heart as if to hold the shattered pieces together.
"Another round?" the bartender asks, his voice breaking through your daze.
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. He pours the bourbon, sliding it over with a sympathetic look. "You okay, Faith?"
You cringe at the use of your fake name but it's well disguised by you knocking back your drink.
"Never better," you lie, pushing away from the bar and stumbling back towards the dance floor.
You push away from the bar, stumbling back toward the dance floor. The numbness sets in again, wrapping around you like a familiar coat. You lose yourself in the crowd, in the music, in the empty promises of the night.
You stay there for hours, dancing with whoever is willing, until something catches your eye. A group of men dressed in all black circles past you for the third time, moving with purpose. Your senses go on high alert, and you quickly scan the room. There are several groups, all dressed similarly, scattered across the club, subtly watching the crowd.
A chill runs down your spine. You stumble across the room toward the bar, trying to act as casual as possible.
"Alex, get me a water," you order, slurring slightly, keeping your eyes on the suspicious men. You glance back at Alex just as he opens his mouth to speak, cutting him off swiftly. "Now."
He doesn't question it. He fills a glass with water and slides it over. You grab it and walk away before he can say another word. The gun tucked into the back of your skirt makes your hand itch to draw it, but you settle for tightening your grip on the glass, chugging some of the water down.
At first, you think the men are here for you, but then you notice a few of them heading toward the bathroom—following a young girl with pigtails. Your eyes narrow as you watch three of them draw guns and slip inside behind her.
You groan, pushing through the sweaty crowd and making your way to the bathroom. You nudge the door open with the toe of your stiletto, peering in just enough to assess the situation. As expected, one of the men has a gun pressed to the girl's throat, while another rummages through her jacket. The third does a poor job keeping watch.
You push the door open fully, stumbling over to the sink like you're just another drunk patron. The sound of guns cocking fills the small room, and you subtly roll your eyes.
"Where are the napkins?" you slur, exaggerating the drunken act as you face the man closest to the door, completely unbothered by the gun aimed at your head.
"Get out of here," one of the men growls, stepping closer.
"I just wanted some damn napkins," you complain, trying to push past him toward a stall. He grabs your arm roughly.
"Listen, you fucking slu—"
He doesn't get to finish. You smash your fist into his nose, using the shock to snatch his gun. You fire off a quick shot, hitting the man holding the gun to the girl's head. The third man lunges at you, knocking the gun out of your hand. It skids across the floor.
He punches you hard, sending you stumbling back into the sink. He swings again, but you dodge, causing his fist to slam into the tile. He yells in pain, and you use the moment to flip him off you. You dive for the gun and shoot him between the eyes.
You turn to help the girl up, but a sharp pain explodes at the back of your head. The last goon grabs you by the hair and slams your face into the sink.
"Fuck," you groan, reaching up to touch the wet, warm patch of blood. "I don't get paid enough for this shit." You stagger to your feet, letting your powers surge through you. Blue electricity dances across your fingers before you blast him, sending him flying into the wall.
You close your eyes, allowing them to fade back to their natural color. You turn back to the girl, who's watching you with wide, fearful eyes.
"Here," you say, pulling the gun from your waistband and placing it in her trembling hands. "I'm getting you out of here, but I need you to be ready to protect yourself."
You turn to scope out the club, but the girl's voice stops you.
"Wait! What's your name?"
~
"My name?" you laugh, spinning your glass of champagne around in your hand.
"Yeah, you know—the thing you'll have me screaming later tonight?" The guy next to you jokes, taking a sip of his whiskey.
You throw your head back in laughter. "Is that right? It's Y/N."
He leans forward, the teasing smirk never leaving his lips. "What brings you to Star City, Y/N?"
"Honestly?" You raise an eyebrow, and he nods. "I needed to lay low. What better place than the middle of nowhere? I'm just passing through."
He laughs, and the sound does something strange to you. It's been years since anyone made your heart flutter like this—since you felt a spark like this.
"And the band's pretty good, yeah?"
You hadn't even noticed the mediocre country band playing on the stage, but you find yourself nodding. "They're amazing."
The two of you fall into a brief silence as he pours drinks for the customers swarming the bar. When he returns, he's leaning closer, his eyes locked on yours like you're the only person in the room.
"Since you're 'just passing through,' does that mean I won't see you again?"
"Yup. I leave tomorrow morning."
"Maybe you could stay?" He's blushing, and you can't help but choke on your drink, laughing.
"What?"
"Stay. Just one more night. The band'll be back tomorrow. Swing by?"
You feel a warmth spread through your chest, a feeling you haven't had in years. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once. You down the rest of your champagne, smiling softly. "I'll let you know."
"I'm headed out in ten minutes... maybe we could leave together?" He's blushing deeper now, and it's endearing in a way you didn't expect.
"That's it?" you tease. "You crack a few jokes, and my panties are supposed to fly off?"
"Ideally—"
"Try again tomorrow," you smirk, pulling out a couple of twenties and dropping them on the counter. You're about to walk away, but something pulls you back. Against your better judgment, you turn. "What's your name?"
He meets your gaze, his smile gentle and genuine. "Oliver. Oliver Queen."
You hesitate, feeling a flutter of something you haven't felt in a long time—hope.
This is the prologue for a fic I'm writing on Wattpad, sharing it here because I'm kind of proud of the story.
~
"Ollie?" Your voice cracks as you look between him and the power-dampening cuffs on your wrists. "What are you doing?"
The shock doesn't come from being thrown into a cell. It comes from the icy glare in Oliver's eyes—the same eyes that once looked at you with nothing but love. Now, they hold a cold, unrecognizable look. You knew this moment would come eventually. You knew he'd find out about your double life, but even in your worst nightmares, it never felt like this.
"You've been working with us since the very beginning," Oliver growls, stepping back as the glass door slides shut, sealing you inside. "And all this time, you were playing us. Playing me."
You swallow hard, trying to ignore the sting of his words. It wasn't supposed to end like this. You joined Team Arrow as a means to an end, to gain his trust and operate under the nose of your biggest threat. You never intended to develop feelings. You never meant to fall in love.
"Well, you found me out," you say, lifting your bound hands to wipe away the tears you refuse to shed, "Congratulations, Oliver. It only took you six years to finally see what was right in front of you."
Oliver's jaw clenches, his hand forming a tight fist at his side, "You've killed innocent people, Y/N. This is where you belong."
You scoff, tilting your head with a bitter smile, "What do you think you know? You found out I'm Malevolent, but I bet you don't know half the people I've killed—or why."
"Then tell me!" Oliver slams his fist against the glass barrier. You flinch, flashes of your father's abuse overwhelming you. You force yourself to take a deep breath, pushing the fear back down.
To be honest, villainy might as well have been written across your forehead from the start. Your father beat you senseless before you were even old enough to understand what abuse was. Every small mistake became an excuse for his rage. Your mother wasn't any better—always drunk or high, barely aware she had a child.
You carried those scars for years, blaming yourself. Maybe if you hadn't touched this, or looked at that, your father would've left you alone. Maybe if you behaved better, your mother would have loved you.
But eventually, you convinced yourself that you deserved better. You left the torment behind and joined the Army as soon as you were legal, it was your first real break. You fell in love, got married, and had two beautiful children. For the first time in you whole life, you were happy. It was a kind of happiness you never even though existed growing up. But it didn't last. It never does.
"You wouldn't understand," you whisper, dropping your gaze. "You see everything in black and white, Oliver. I'm forced to live in the gray."
He steps closer, his expression torn between fury and something softer. "Then help me understand," he demands, his voice breaking for the first time. "Why did you do it? Why did you betray us?"
The question hits you hard, and suddenly the walls of the cell seem to fade away. Your mind drifts back to a moment you've tried so hard to bury—a moment that still haunts your every waking thought. The moment that's driven every waking moment and every decision you've made for the past few years.
You push open the front door of your home, smiling as you call out to your children. "Melody? Michael? I'm back!"
There's no response, normally the second you'd walk in the house you'd be greeted by their little footsteps pounding excitedly towards the door. They always knew when you were home. You suspiciously set your bag down and walk into the living room, expecting to find toys scattered across the floor and the sound of laughter echoing through the house.
Instead, it's silent. Eerily silent.
A chill runs down your spine, and the smile fades from your face, you pull your gun from it's holster at you side. "Melody?" you call again, your voice trembling slightly now. You step into the kitchen, and that's when you see it—the shattered glass on the floor, the overturned chairs.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you move down the hallway. It feels like your feet are made of lead, every step heavier than the last. You push open the door to the kids' room, and the sight before you rips the breath from your lungs.
Melody and Michael lie motionless on the floor, their innocent eyes frozen wide in terror. A single bullet wound pierces each of their small foreheads, their once-bright faces contorted in horror—the image sears into your mind, you know their expressions will haunt you forever. You drop to your knees, a choked scream tearing from your throat as you scoop up and cradle their lifeless bodies. "No, no, no..." you sob, rocking back and forth, pressing kisses to their cold foreheads, "My babies."
You can barely see through the tears as you stumble into the bedroom you once shared with your husband. The bed is soaked in blood, the sheets tangled around his lifeless form. His eyes are vacant, the same gentle eyes that once looked at you with love.
You collapse against the doorway, a guttural scream of agony ripping from your chest. Your entire world has shattered, and you know in that moment that nothing will ever be the same.
You don't know how long you sit there, but when you finally stand, your tears have dried. All that's left is a hollow emptiness inside you, a cold determination that replaces the grief.
You will find out who did this. And you will make them pay.
You're jolted back to the present, the cold walls of the cell pressing in around you. Oliver is still standing there, his eyes locked on yours, waiting for an answer.
You open your mouth to speak, but the words die in your throat. He doesn't bother to repeat the question. Instead, he taps the computer screen, and you watch helplessly as the pipeline seals itself shut, cutting off your powers and any chance of escape—for now.
~
Oliver storms into the main room of STAR Labs, where the rest of the team waits in silence. The tension is palpable. He can feel their eyes on him, but he doesn't want to talk. Not now. Behind his stoic mask of indifference, he was hurting. His mind raced, searching for any plausible explanation that could clear your name and bring you back into his arms. There had to be a reason—he was sure of it.
He had worked with you for six years, memorized every quirk, every fear. He thought he knew you better than anyone, better than you knew yourself. And yet, in this moment, he realized he knew nothing about you at all.
He heads straight for the computer, typing furiously until your file appears on the screen. The national meta database is almost blank, save for a few vague details.
Oliver slams his fist down on the desk, his voice a broken whisper. "Why the hell does no one know anything about her?"
Barry steps forward, pulling nervously at his fingers. "Oliver, I know you don't want to hear this, but you need to talk to her. Not at her. You can't threaten her or berate her. You have to listen."
Oliver's hands tremble as he grips the edge of the desk. He's fighting to keep his emotions in check, but he knows Barry is right. Maybe if he had listened to you sooner, things wouldn't have turned out like this.
"Okay," he finally mutters, the word coming out strained.
~
The hiss of the pipeline door opening makes you jump to your feet. You're surprised to see Oliver standing there, still dressed in his leather costume, the hood pulled back to reveal his tired, conflicted expression.
"Who are you?" he asks, stepping closer to the glass, his voice barely above a whisper.
You meet his gaze head-on, forcing yourself to smile. "I'm Y/N. Or did you miss that?"
"Y/L/N or Vance?" he demands. "Because you told me your last name was Vance."
"I lied," you say flatly, dislocating your thumb to slip out of the cuffs. The pain barely registers anymore; you've trained yourself for this.
"What's your story?" Oliver's voice cracks slightly. "Your meta file doesn't list anything before six years ago. Why?"
"I erased it," you reply flatly, feeling the electricity crackling beneath your skin as your powers return. "You don't deserve to know, because then you'd understand. And I don't want your pity."
"Damn it, Y/N! Talk to me!" Oliver slams his hands against the glass. You flinch, and a bolt of electricity shoots from your fingertips. His eyes widen, landing on the limp cuffs dangling from your wrists.
Your eyes glow bright blue, and the electricity wraps around your arms like coiling serpents. Memories of your family flash through your mind, intensifying the charge. The glow brightens, and your hair lifts as lightning surges around your body, wild and untamed.
"My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I served two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. I fell in love, got married, had twins—Melody and Michael." Tears well up as the electricity grows volatile. "They're all dead now."
You thrust your arms forward, shattering the cell. Glass and metal scatter like shrapnel, the blast sending Oliver flying across the room. You land gracefully, lightning still crackling around your arms. As you step onto the platform, Oliver rises, bow drawn and ready.
"Y/N, stand down!" he commands, just as Barry speeds in.
"How the hell..." Barry mutters, taking in the wreckage.
They knew you were powerful, but breaking out of the pipeline was supposed to be impossible.
"Move, Oliver," you growl, advancing. "I don't want to hurt you."
Barry lunges at you, but you sense his move before he makes it. You blast him with a bolt of lightning, sending him crashing down the hall.
"Y/N!" Oliver shouts, more urgently now. Your eyes narrow, glowing brighter.
"What's the plan, Oliver? Are you going to talk it out with me, babe?" You mockingly pout, and he pulls the bowstring back even tighter.
"I'm not saying it again," he warns, aiming straight at your chest.
"Good, neither am I." You lunge forward, snatching the bow from his grip and hurling it across the room.
He grabs your arm, twisting it behind your back at an unnatural angle. You scream, but instead of yielding, you snap your own arm, freeing yourself from his hold. With your good hand, you throw a punch, but Oliver catches it, flipping you over his shoulder. You hit the ground hard, gasping as he looms over you.
"I told you to stand down, Y/N."
You laugh through the pain, eyes glowing once more. You hurl him across the room with a surge of electricity. "And I told you to move."
As Oliver collapses, you take a moment to catch your breath. Then, you walk over and use your good arm to grip him tight, dragging his limp body across the debris. With a practiced gentleness, you prop him up against the wall, adjusting his head so it rests back comfortably.
You kneel down, brushing his hair away from his forehead. For a moment, you let your fingers linger, tracing the familiar lines of his face.
"It's for the greater good," you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, "I still have a mission to finish."
this is just a teaser for a fic i’ve been working on for a while. i’ve written three drafts that go in three very different directions so i’m gonna use feedback from this one to peer pressure myself into finishing on of them.
summary: when steve stays in the past he leaves you behind (its slightly different here than in eg bc steve doesn't come back as an old guy)
warning: angst, eventual strong language
~
“He should be back by now?”
You mean it as a statement but your voice wavers slightly at the end and it sounds more like a question. You can feel Sam and Bucky hovering a couple steps back on either side of you neither knowing what to say as you stare intently at the time machine Steve’d entered only moments before.
“Y/N-” Sam starts but you whirl around on him and it’s only then that he sees the tears in your eyes.
“He should be back by now, right?” You ask again your voice cracking as you lock eyes with Sam. Sam falls silent and averts his eyes from your prying ones so you switch to look at Bucky, “Right, Buck?”
You know you sound pathetic and it’s a stark contrast from the girl who led Wakandan troops into battle not too long ago, but you can’t help it. You loved him with every fiber of your being and you didn't even want to think about what you’d do without him.
Bucky looks at you with sad eyes in response and you stagger backwards as the tears cascade your face and a string of no’s falls from your lips.
He wouldn’t.
Sam rushes to catch you as you trip over your own feet and you sink into his chest as sobs rack your body. You couldn’t tell what hurt more, the fact that he left without saying goodbye or the fact that he left for her.
You pump your legs towards the only exit from the mental facility that the inner circle had broken into it with Marcos not too far behind you.
“Here they come!” You yell over your shoulder to Marcos.
You jog into the middle of the road just as the armored truck turns around the corner. Marcos put his hands up and you see them glowing.
“What are you doing?” You ask furrowing your eyes angrily at the man and grabbing his arm to stop him from attacking.
“We’re not gonna get another chance at this, Y/N! Get out of my way!” You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him.
“Your daughters mother is in there!” You yell and you watch as he hesitantly puts his hands down. So was your boyfriend who you hoped you’d be able to convince to come back, “Let me do this.”
It had been almost 6 months since Andy left the mutant underground and joined the inner circle. Six months since Andy abandoned his family. Since he abandoned you. At first you’d been much like Marcos, so angry that all you did was train and workout preparing to do your best to kick the triplets’ asses. But then you realized that it wasn’t their fault. Andy made his own choice and the best you could do was help him see reason.
You march towards the oncoming car allowing your powers to rope around your arms and your eyes glow a brilliant blue. With a loud grunt you thrust your hands forward and send a wave of electricity into the car, mostly as a warning.
The car glides to a stop and you prepare to hit the car with another strike when you hear the car door open and you can hear him before you see him.
“Y/N, please move. I don’t want to do this,” He sighs his face is set in a thin line and despite him not being happy to see you you can’t help the grin the eats your face.
“Andy. It’s you,” When he doesn't smile back and just stares at you your smile drops but it’s not too late for him to come back, “Come back. Your mom misses you. So does your sister.”
“You know I can't do that.”
“Why not!” You shriek tears welling in your eyes and your powers involuntarily come back stronger the sky darkening and a low rumble of thunder echoes from the sky. The lightning is roping itself back around your arms and you struggle to reign it back it.
“Get out of the way, Y/N.”
You don’t react at first instead searching his face for any semblance of the Andy you fell in love with and when there’s none your face darkens much like him own and you summon even more lightning to you, the roar of the thunder getting louder and louder as you progressively get angrier.
“Make me.”
“Y/N wait-” You hear Marcos protest from behind you but you cut him off.
“No. Andy wants to dance. So let’s dance, babe.”
You throw both of your hands in the air and at your command lightning comes down from the clouds striking violently at the ground around Andy but you're careful not to hit him. He doesn’t afford you the same luxury and with a swing of his arms you’re flung back so hard and so fast that you don’t have time to strike back as you land roughly on the ground and your head smashes into the concrete.
You don’t see it but Andy starts to run towards you, immediately regretting hitting you that hard but the triplets stop him and he hesitantly hops back in the car and the car speeds away, the rubber tires burning on concrete as they rush to get away before you wake back up.
You glared at the silver ring on your finger, twirling it with your thumb and somehow wishing it would melt away. It caused too much pain, brought back too many happy memories. At times you welcomed the memories, until you opened your eyes looking for Carl and he wasn’t there. He never would be again.
That’s the part that got to you. The never. You’d never see your husband again, he’d never hold you as you fell asleep, he’d never tell you how much he loved you.
Never.
The ring seems to burn into your mind, every good time with Carl, like the day you wed him. It was not long before Negan had killed Glenn and Abraham, your group had finally been happy again and you felt more like a family than ever when Negan did what he did.
Your right hand lay on your protruding belly as you played with the delicate piece of jewelry.
“It’s time...” Rick pokes his head in Carl’s room and smiles softly at the sight of you wearing Carl’s grey t-shirt and flannel, it feels like it’s been forever but it still smells like him, “I miss him too, Y/N”
His face is pale and red and he is obviously distraught, just as distraught as you if not more.
You sigh and sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and grabbing Carl’s gun, tucking it in the waistband of your jeans.
“I still can’t believe he’s gone Rick. I loved him, with all of my heart and now he’s gone and there’s this ache in my heart, in my legs, in my he- there’s this ache everywhere just reminding me of what I’ve lost.”
Rick smiles sympathetically and pulls you in for a close a hug inhaling the scent of his son from the clothes you wore. He rubs your back a couple more times before pulling apart and leading out of the house and towards Carl’s final resting place.
You hadn’t left his room sense he died, you barely ate only forcing yourself to eat dinner for the sake of the little Grimes growing in your stomach. Your eyes instantly water when you see the makeshift grave and you collapssto your knees and stroke the blades of grass around the freshly dug hole tenderly.
“Carl, baby, I-“ your eyes water and laugh slightly,”since before you died, I knew I was pregnant and I used to wake up early in the morning and go to the bathroom and stare at my self and practise how I would tell you.”
Rick was seated next to you, his hand on your shoulder supportively.
“I’m having a baby, Carl,” you smile softly your hand instinctively resting on your baby bump,”we’re having a baby. If it’s a girl I was thinking Lori and for a boy, maybe Carl?”
You look to Rick for his opinion and he just smiles and pulls you in for a hug.
You continue talking to Rick and Carl about possible baby names before the starts to set and you have to go inside.
Prompt: “You’re really going to have to try harder than that,”
Character: Negan
@thewalkingdead-imagines
-
Your body convulsed with anger. your jaw clenched and your watery eyes were glued to the patchy grass in front of you, trying to avoid looking at the bloody remains of your best friend, Glenn. Your knees ached from the position you were in but your posture remained straight much like Abraham’s who’s lifeless body lied not far from your sweat clad figure. Your hands were tightened into fists at your sides and tears of sorrow and anger ran down your face.
Your hair was a mess of dirt and sweat and it frizzed up to the point was covering most of your face. With all the crying you’d done in the past hour yours eyes were red and puffy. Negan was still walking up and down the line of your friends, his bloody bat thrown over his shoulder as he spoke.
“I warned you guys that that shit,” he jerked his bat in Daryls direction splashing blood onto your face,”that shit would not fly.”
You jumped as the wet substance came in contact with your face, more hot tears running down your face as you drag your eyes up the length of Negan, stopping at his face.
“Dwight, load him up,” he jabbed Lucille in Daryl’s direction once again, his eyes briefly locking with yours and he smirked, “ her too.”
Your whole body tensed when you felt a pair of arms grab you and drag you backwards, “No! No! No!”
You kicked, screamed and pulled trying to escape Dwight’s grip, “Stop! Let me go!”
You managed to get one arm free and you punched Dwight in the nether region, ripping your other arm free, when he doubled over in pain, and you scrambled to your feet before he could grab you again. A slow clapping could be heard from behind you and whipped around, every sense in your body on high alert. Negan stood with Lucille tucked under arm and his hands together as his clapping echoed through the clearing in the forest. Everyone quiet and watching your exchange with Negan.
“For a chick you’ve got some pretty big balls,” he started taking agonizingly slow steps towards you,” I could kill you.”
“Do it.” You spat, your stance tense and you were ready to fight when you said it, “I’d rather die than go anywhere with you. You killed my best friend,” your voice cracks at that and you could hear soft cries from your group as you refer to Glenn’s body,”You did that and what I’m supposed to just let you take me? No. Hell no. If you think that threatening is going to change that you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I said,” Negan began again his voice firmer and louder than before,”I’m going to kill you,”
“And I said,” you mock his voice and projection,”You’re really going to have to try harder than that.”
Warning- language and death and slight s7 spoilers
~
“Which one of you pricks is the leader?”
No one dared to move and from behind you, you could sense one of Negans men preparing to speak, but you were quick to cut them off.
“It’s me,” you croak trying to hide the shaking in your voice,
You weren’t scared - okay you were scared but you weren’t half as scared as the rest of your group. You had seen this before, some dick trying to pretend he was better than everyone and take over the ‘new world’. You saw it with shane, with the governor, with the folks at the hospital, and now you could see it with Negan. He was just another douche trying so hard to be on top, the only difference was he had a baseball bat and a bit of swagger.
You could feel the eyes of your group members on you as they stared at you bewildered, you could even sense Rick trying to speak up and tell the truth so that he’d face the consequences not you… but it was better this way. The group needed him, not you.
Negan made his way over to you agonizingly slow, swinging Lucille threatingly as he made his way closer, stopping directly in front of you where you kept your eyes planted firmly to the ground his feet lay on.
“You don’t look like a Rick to me,” he scoffed and when you finally allowed yourself to drag your eyes up the length of his body, you could see the dimpled smile that adorned his face and you could tell he was enjoying this, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
You glare at the man harshly, “Y/N.”
Introducing yourself to Negan was something different than how you normally acted when introducing yourself. Introducing yourself was always something fun to you- something flirty.
He was staggering down the hospital halls when you’d first met him, Rick Grimes. You were raiding what was left of the town hospital for antibiotics for your dad and Rick stumbled down the hallway unaware of the dead ones snapping their jaws at him from behind.
Growling lowly you knew you could let the strange man get eaten and you grabbed the drugs you needed before sneaking up behind the zombies that walked behind him. You take them out as quietly as possible trying not to alert the frightened man.
“Hey,” you whispered after the man trying to get him to stop walking and he paused thinking he was hearing things before he turned around fully.
He had yet to speak and his stomach was wrapped in a gauze you hadn’t noticed, leading you to believe he was a patient at the hospital before all of this went down.
“Normally I wait until after the third date to see someone half naked but i’ll make an acception for you,” you weren’t sure what brought on the swift remark but you could have sworn you saw the corner of his lips quirk up, “Y/N.”
“Rick.”
Since that day you and Rick had been together as nothing more than faithful partners and best friends and it hurt to see you willingly sacrifice yourself for him.
“Well Y/N,” he began, springing back into the motion of pacing and swinging Lucille, “I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Or killing my people after I sent more of ‘em to kill your people—again. That shit is not cool.”
You remained silent as you watched him move, not yet knowing what you should do.
“I have this rule. Let’s call it the New World Order. And you broke that.” Negan spun the bat in his hand. “It’s actually very simple. So simple in fact that even an idiot like you could understand. Let me put it as simple as I can: Give me your shit or I will kill you.” He took a few steps in Rick’s direction again, pointing his bat in your face. “You work for me as of right now.”
You let yourself take a sharp intake of breathe in as you tried not to attack the man in front you who just would not shut up.
Negan steps back and takes a look at all of you, taking in your faces, stopping at yours until you met his gaze. You feel your cheeks grow red from the anger. He laughs a sinister dimpled laugh and motions with his bat. “Did you think your actions would go unpunished? Think again. I don’t wanna kill anyone, just to be clear. I just want you to work for me.”
“But,” he sighed walking to the other end of the line still twirling the bat in his hand, “You did kill my people and I just can not let that go. You got to pay. I’m going to do two things here tonight. One of them—“ Negan looks directly at you, the proclaimed leader of the group. “I’m going to beat the holy hell outta one of you.”
He marches up and down the line trying to pick his potential victim then after a long agonizing time of him surveying your group he speaks again, “You look like shit,” his bat waves a little too close to Maggie’s face for comfort, “Maybe i should just put you out of your misery.”
You close your eyes taking a deep intake of breath knowing that he was just teasing, just rattling the chains to make sure you had listened to his threats closely enough to know better than to make a move. You knew better, your plan echoing through your mind, you weren’t sure when he was going to strike but the man talked so damn much that you knew something would give him off, as you patiently wait for him.
Unfortunately, everyone in your group wasn’t as patient as you were and Glenn flew forward to protect his wife and unborn child.
“No!” He yelled struggling against Dwight who dragged him back into the line.
Negan tisks, shaking his head as he walks over to where Glenn was being held down by Dwight who looked all too eager to be holding the crossbow to Glenn’s head.
“Because i’m such a stand up guy. I’ll let that shit slide, but if another one of you pricks pulls a stunt like that it won’t go unpunished,” he warned his face deadly serious, waving Dwight off before his normal dimpled smirk reappeared and his eyes were raking across your group once again, “I just can not decide,” he brings Lucille up to rest under his chin, feighning internal conflict, “I got it.”
He moved over to the beginning of the line where Eugene lay and pointed the barb wire bat in his face, “Eenie,” he moved to Carl, “Meenie,” Aaron, “Mo.”
He continued the childish chant up and down the line and you could hear your friends ragged breaths as they shook in fear, you yourself feeling anxious for what the man would do when he landed on his victim, would you have time to strike back?
Your eyes lock with Rick’s and you can see he’s shaking in both anger and fear, sweat dripping off his curls and you try your best to give him a reassuring smile, to let him now that it would be okay. But he stares through you.
“and,” the bat is in your face now, “you,” Rick’s “it.”
His bat stops in front of Abraham who straightens up his posture like the soldier he is.
“You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, they’re all gonna be doing that.” He prepares to swing the bag and you quickly stand to your feet, any ‘Negan’ that tries to stop you was meet with a swift kick or punch to the face, whichever was easier.
“Kill me,” your hands were raised in surrender as you just in front of Abraham just before the bat could touch him.
Negan’s face was conflicted and he eyes your trembling body, his tongue sticking out to take over his teeth briefly before he lowered Lucille.
“You wanna die?” His face was light, and playful; his eyebrows furrowed just the slightest, but his voice had a seriousness to let you know that he wanted to know.
“No,” Your voice shook as you spoke and you could feel Abraham tug on your pants leg as a way of telling you to just let him die, but you couldn’t.
You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let any of these people die, you owed your life to every single one of them - except maybe Eugene… - and you wouldn’t stand by to watch them die.
Even though you were physically always saving their asses they saved you emotionally if it wasn’t for them you would have ended it a long time ago. They kept you going; gave you a reason to wake up in the morning - a reason to keep fighting and you’d be damned if you let a prick with a dick take any of those glorious people from his earth.
“Then why?” Lucille’s head was being pressed into the dirt as he leaned on her listening to you speak with genuine interest.
“That man you were about to kill just now,” your voice cracked and your eyes watered, “he saved me from myself.”
You reload your gun and shoot it again hitting all of the dormant walkers not giving a damn how much noise you made. The more walkers that came the more you shot, until you ran out of ammo.
Grunting angrily, you grab your knife from your pocket and jump down from your perch on the car, you stab and stab and stab, tears of anger rolling down your face as you remember the look of Beth’s lifeless body in Daryl’s arms. She didn’t deserve what she got. She was one of the good things left in the world.
You let out and angry scream, screaming until your voice went hoarse, stabbing the walkers until all of them were dead and then you collapsed to the ground, covered in so much blood you didn’t know if it was yours or walkers.
“Ma’am,” you look up through a haze of tears not bothering to get to a fighting stance as you didn’t care what happened to you anymore, he could tell you weren’t going to answer and he took it upon himself and kneel besides you, gently taking your blood caked face in his hands, “It’s going to be okay.”
That was all it took. Those five words kept you going for another day and another one after that. It may not seem like a lot but you loved Abraham for what he did. He couldve kept goin, could’ve left you to get yourself killed but he didn’t. He stayed.
You choked back a sob as you gestured to your group, “These people don’t deserve to die. Not any of them.”
“And you do?” Negan asked his face serious now as he took in your figure, you could tell that he was genuinely in awe of your heroship.
You didn’t answer right away instead you turned to look at the group even more tears spilling over when you saw them all shaking in fear with what was going to happen to you.
“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully your gaze locking Negans and you gestured to the bat, “Let’s get this over with.”
“Are you sure?” He asked picking up Lucille and adjusting his grip on her,”If you back out now i won’t judge you.”
You took one last look at the group you loved oh so much, burning their faces into your minds, remembering the happier days you shared with the group. You let out a content sigh and turned back to Negan, shakingly dropping down to a kneeling position. You nodded your head, contorting your hand into a peace sign behind your back for Abraham and Sasha to see. You could hear the pair share a bittersweet laugh and you tried to picture their laughs in your mind letting it echo as Negan spoke for the last time that you would ever hear, “I’m going to try to do this in one swing because i really don’t want to do this,” he mustered up all the strength he could, inhaling a large gulp of air, and pressing his lips together, brought his bat down on your head.
It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. That was a plus side…instead Negan kept to his promise and you were out quick enough not to hear the loud wails and screams that came from your group as they watched Negan bash your head in until it was nothing but a bloody pulp in the grass.
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Keep that in mind when reading this blog.
➵ Secondly, I do not own the main character, you. You are your own amazing person and I don't own you... I just write about you... in my own way...
➵ Lastly, The story plots of each imagine and the way it's written is me, Jashana Brianna Allen, using settings and characters of the shows to create my own little world starring them. So please don't steal my ideas there are millions upon millions of different ways to create your own little world involving the Fandom's creations, from AUs to romance, to thrillers anything you want but not mine ;).
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