A/N: Well I was originally planning on writing a couple chapters of basic story line and a whole lot of smut but as it fucking turns out Negan and the Saviors are so much fun to write that it's turning into some sorta epic so I don't know to be honest. I'm hoping this is gonna go on for a real long time. But totally not a real slow burn. You know, a little slow, let's not rush it or anything, but let's instead just have a whole heap of smut spread across a shit-ton of Negan swearing at people, Lucille beating the shit outta people, and walkers getting fucking owned.

Also, I'm not following any particular timeline in relation to the TV show but you know, we're in TV show territory.
I also can't promise that no one is gonna get killed off.
Negan makes the rules, not me.
I just follow them.

Warnings for all the usual stuff: violence, a little gore, swearing, smut etc as well as implied attempted rape for the first chapter (I just like to be sure y'all are aware of that one).

"Get on your knees." The words don't sink in. "Are you deaf?" You don't move; Hell, you're barely breathing at this point. "Get on your fucking," An unexpected pain shoots through the back of your legs as he kicks at you from behind, "knees." You lurch forward, throwing your hands out as your legs buckle and you hit the road. Gravel scrapes against your palms, grazing your already bloodied skin. You swallow hard, lifting your hands up from the floor you bring yourself up to a kneeling position.

There's a knife strapped to your thigh and there's only one guy. You can take him. You killed one of the bastards already and you can fucking take him. Your eyes flicker to the knife and you flex your fingers briefly. But now you hear the familiar cocking of your own gun. Shit.

"Don't get any ideas or I'll put a bullet in your goddamn brain right now." Cold metal presses against the nape of your neck and you drop your gaze to the floor, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips. "And I don't wanna kill you." You hold your breath as the barrel of the gun drags over your neck and across your cheek. The man moves around you, you stare at his feet as he comes to a stop in front of you and kneels. The gun now presses under your chin and he forces you to look at him. "No," he smiles and you can't help noticing the ugly scarring spanning the left side of his face. His eyes are sunken and his greasy, blond hair falls lankly over his face. "I want Negan to do it. I want Negan to see what you did to one of his men."

Your mind flashes back to the events that have led to this moment. Yeah, you killed a man. You stabbed him right in the gut and more than once. And he'd deserved it. You shake your head and attempt to focus on the present. "And who the fuck is Negan?" You spit at the man. You glare defiantly, hoping your eyes are conveying fearlessness rather than dread. He glares back and opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Holy fucking fuck, what in the fuck happened fucking here?" The footsteps come to a stop beside you but you don't move your gaze away from the man opposite. There is a long silence before he breaks eye contact and looks up. "Dwighty-boy, the fuck is going on? Why do I see one of my fucking Saviors back there with his goddamn guts hanging out all over the place?" His voice was gruff and demanding and he spoke with ill-tempered mirth. You glance sideways from your position on the floor as the scarred man referred to as Dwight drags himself up to his feet.

"This little bitch." He wavers the gun accusingly in your direction. You take a deep breath and clench your jaw.

"Is that fucking right?" The man sounds a little taken aback by Dwight's statement.

"Yes, Negan." Dwight replies. You glance up and scowl at him as he nods and a distasteful grin creeps its way over his lips. He takes a few steps back, allowing Negan to loom threateningly above you. Your eyes travel over his broad frame. He's tall; easily over six feet. He's wearing dark jeans and dusty combat boots, accompanied by a worn, black leather jacket and before your eyes are able to focus on his face you find yourself gazing instead at the fucking baseball bat swung lazily over his shoulder. The damn thing was wrapped in nothing less than barbed-fucking-wire.

He drops down abruptly in front of you, forcing your gaze away from the baseball bat. Now you find yourself studying his face; dark, slicked-back hair and graying stubble adorning a strong jawline. The lines around his deep, brown eyes suggest he is late-forties, at least. He's staring you down as you take in his appearance. The corner of his mouth is upturned in a smirk as he watches you watch him. Before you realize it, his lips are parting to reveal perfect, straight, white teeth and now the goddamn psycho is full-on grinning at you.

"You?" His eyebrows are raised in disbelief and he continues to grin dangerously at you. His head drops a little and he breaks eye contact to glance behind you and down the road at where the freshly disemboweled corpse lay. "Wow." His eyes lock with yours again.

"He fucking deserved it."

The smile drops from his face and he takes a deep breath. Without warning he swings the baseball bat down from his shoulder, causing you to jolt involuntarily. "Dwight. Hold Lucille for one fucking minute, would you?" A silent relief passes momentarily over you as Dwight takes the bat from Negan and you'd swear you heard Dwight sigh irritably as he took it. Negan rises to his feet and runs a gloved hand over his chin.

"Okay, the fuck did he do?" Negan stares at you, awaiting an answer.

"Who cares? She deserves to die she-" Dwight speaks out before you have a chance to answer but is swiftly cut off by Negan.

"If I want your fucking opinion, D, I'll fucking ask for it." He smiles, almost gentlemanly at you, and gestures for you to answer him.

"He… He wanted what I had. My weapons… Food. I barely have anything. I told him I was alone and I didn't have anything but the dumb bastard wouldn't listen. I gave him my gun and…" You run a hand through your hair and swallow hard. "He… He said he was gonna… He, tried to-" You glance up at Negan, then at Dwight and back again.

"Did he lay his fucking hands on you?" Negan glances sideways at Dwight and his expression grows serious. "You hearing this, D? Are you fucking hearing this?" He turns back to you. "Did he fucking try and fucking rape you?"

"I told you he deserved what he got."

"Well, shit. You know about this, Dwight?" You glance up at Dwight. His eyes are wide and he shakes his head almost violently.

"No, I swear. I was scouting a nearby building and I come out and find him like… That." He gestures back at the corpse. Negan huffs contentedly and turns back to you.

"So." You attempt to maintain calm in your voice as you speak. "That what you're gonna do to me? Or are you just gonna kill me?"

"The fuck? Kill you? Sounds like you just did me a goddamn, mother-fucking favor, sweetheart. I do not stand for that shit. No fucking way." He leans back a little as he speaks, grin once again spread across his face. "I'm only sorry I didn't kill that mother-fucker my-goddamn-self." You narrow your eyes at him, unsure whether to believe his words or not. After all, there are fuck-all good people left in this world, right? Why should he be any different?

Negan holds out his gloved hand toward you. You hesitate. The smile still lingers and his tongue slips out, tracing his bottom lip as he waits for you to take his hand. "I don't bite, doll. Have I given you reason to not trust me?" Considering for a moment, you grab his hand and he hauls you to your feet. You glance at Dwight. He's looking a little nervous and avoids your eyes, instead staring at the ground. "D. You owe this lady a fucking apology."

Dwight nods quickly in response, clearly intimidated by the larger man. "Sorry." He mutters quietly.

"Fucking really, D? Say it like you goddamn mean it you put a fucking gun against this woman's head, threatened to kill her and all after that fucking prick tried to fucking fuck her against her will. Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I'm sorry, Negan." He pulls his gaze up to meet you and attempts to smile with what you can only assume is sincerity. "Sorry. I'm really, honestly… I had no idea."

"Better." Negan grins and holds a hand out to retrieve his baseball bat from Dwight, who promptly returns it. "What's your name?" You figure you have nothing to lose so you tell him. "You're out here alone?" He questions.

"Yeah. I mean, there were others. But it's been about a month now. Yeah. I'm alone." You blink, knowing that dwelling on what had happened to the rest of your group would only cause you to cry and fuck that; not in front of this guy.

Negan presses his lips together with a tsk. "You got a place to stay?"

"Does it look like it?" You retort, gesturing at your filthy and bloodied clothes.

"Then it's your lucky fucking day, sweetheart." He smiles at you again and for the first time in a long time, you feel a smile creeping over your own lips. And you want to slap yourself in the goddamn face for it. What are you thinking? How can you trust him? How do you know he's not gonna fucking kill you, or worse? "Dwight, give the fucking gun back." He orders.

You gauge the uncertainty on Dwight's face as he tentatively returns your gun. You grasp it tightly.

"See?" Negan's tongue traces over his bottom lip once again and he pauses, glancing at the gun in your hands. And as though he can read your exact thoughts he assures, "You can fucking trust me, doll. Not gonna hurt you." You find your eyes locked on his as you consider his sincerity but God damn you find yourself falling helplessly into those incredibly… perfect… beautiful eyes… Shit.

He's staring back with a grin on his face even wider than before, as though it were possible.

"Well this is getting fucking intense." He swings his head round lazily in Dwight's direction, his eyes continuously burning into yours. "Start the fucking truck up, Dwighty-boy." Has Dwight gone? You're not sure. Hell, a fucking corpse could be chewing on your arm right now and you probably wouldn't even notice. God damn. Why can't you stop staring at him?

But then his eyes snap away from you and he stares over your shoulder, although the smile still lingers on his face his expression has changed entirely. "Mm," he mumbles, "give me one fucking minute, doll." He brushes past you with baseball bat raised at his side. You turn and watch as he walks away. He turns back momentarily and lets out a deep-throated laugh. "Fucking watch this." He demands.

Looking ahead of him you notice the man you'd gutted is looking a little less dead and a little more dead-alive. It ambles toward Negan, guts spilling all over the tarmac, arms outstretched and teeth gnashing hungrily at him. "You're a goddamn fucking mess! Look. At. You." Negan slows his pace and stands his ground, baseball bat raised in anticipation and waiting for the walking corpse to reach him.

And then with one, heavy swing of the bat the corpse's head is swiped clean off its body. The decapitated body drops to the floor but its teeth are still gnashing as Negan brings the bat down on top of it. "Fuck you, you piece of shit." He declares as its skull is crushed under the weight of the bat and bloodied brains seep out across the ground. Negan spins on his heel and faces you again. He throws his arms out to the side and the bat dangles loosely in his right hand, blood dripping down its barbs and pooling on the floor. "I feel fucking better." He exclaims contentedly, and you can't help but smirk at the expression on his face.