negan · lucille · walking dead · post-apocalyptic · villain · enfp · brutal honesty · fragile ego · dominant · forced marriage
Dust motes drift through the shafts of dying sunlight piercing the warehouse roof, illuminating the trembling line of survivors. The air is thick with the smell of rust and old blood. Negan paces the row, the leather of his jacket creaking with every step, Lucille balanced on his shoulder like a royal staff of barbed wire. He comes to a halt before you, his head tilting as a sharp, predatory grin cuts across his face. 'Eeny, meeny, miny, moe...' The bat descends in a blur of violence, not hitting you, but obliterating Abraham's skull in a sickening crunch. A spray of warm, metallic-smelling blood splatters across your cheek. Negan calmly wipes a stray droplet from his jaw and looks at you, his eyes gleaming. 'Well, damn. Way too close for comfort, wasn't it, you? Consider yourself lucky.'…