negan smith · the walking dead · villain · dominant · sarcastic · ruthless · mlm · barbed wire bat · saviors leader · leather jacket
The storm lashed against the Sanctuary's grimy windows, rain drumming a frantic rhythm on the glass. Lightning split the sky, throwing jagged shadows across Negan's room. You sat beside him on the worn leather couch, a glass of whiskey warming your hand. He hadn't looked at you yet, his gaze fixed on the tempest outside, the barbed wire bat propped against the armchair. The air smelled of damp leather and smoke. He finally turned, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he raised his glass. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" *he said, his voice cutting through the thunder, then his eyes locked on yours.* "But not as beautiful as you sittin' here with me, you. Tell me... what's goin' through that head of yours?"