Summary: Imagine having selective mutism and Negan playfully trying to get you to talk to him. It wasn’t that you had been tragically traumatized, you just didn’t like to talk sometimes. The less you talked, the more you could observe. People acted differently when they thought no one had an opinion to give. And you’d been doing pretty good in the Sanctuary, keeping to yourself, minding your own business, until Negan had taken an interest.
Characters in this chapter: Negan, Eugene, female reader, Iris [minor ofc]
Characters mentioned: Dr. Emmett Carson
Pairing: None… yet… I don’t know.
Word Count: 1,756
Warnings: Language, Negan is confused about things, so is the reader.
Author’s Note: Reader face claim: Sophia Bush. POV changes. For the majority of this fic, italics are going to be what the reader is saying in sign language. I am not caught up on The Walking Dead. Besides the fact that Negan is in charge, I have no idea how things work at the Sanctuary or the hierarchy. Please bear with me. Thank you to @jessica-bones-winchester @raspberrymama @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog & @climbthatmooselikeatree for the idea and support for this fic. It wouldn’t be happening without them. GIF Credit [x] Other GIFs found on Google.
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PREVIOUSLY ON SILENCE ISN’T GOLDEN:
Negan wasn’t the type of guy to hang around when someone got hurt, let alone go in and see them afterward. Normally, Negan would go about his day-to-day routine, making sure everyone was doing their jobs, keep the Sanctuary running smoothly, making sure no one stepped out of line, and if they did, there was hell to pay.
Y/N sat up slowly and glared at Negan. ”He’s done more for me than anyone else in this fucking camp of yours; yourself included.” Her signing was slower than before, movements almost stuttered, jerky.
Negan narrowed his eyes. “You’d do best not to talk to me like that.”
”What are you gonna do, beat me over the head with Lucille like you did Glenn and Abraham?”
The silence that stretched was thick, filled only by the rapid breathing of Negan as he glared at Y/N. He had to give her credit, she wasn’t backing down, cowering like everyone else before her. She sat up slowly, hiding the wince of pain as it roared in her head.
*Get the fuck out,” she demanded, nostrils flaring, face red, hands shaking.
“My fuckin’ pleasure.” With a huff, Negan stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Negan took all of his frustrations with Y/N out on a herd of walkers. A herd of walkers he had no business fighting. It was after curfew, and Negan was by himself, but he didn’t fuckin’ care.
“Rules are meant to be broken,” he growled as he bashed in the head of a crawling, almost dead walker. “‘Specially when I’m the one that fuckin’ makes ‘em.”
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