𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 -Negan x Reader

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Before you can open your eyes, the thumping headache ensues. Groaning, you pull the pillow out from under your head and hold it on your face. A foreign piney fragrance enters your nose with each breath you take in the pillow. You find yourself pushing your nose deeper into the pillow, trying to take in the scent as much as you can. It's oddly familiar to you and it just smells so good you can't help but try to analyze the pleasant notes.

Oh fuck.

Memories of the night before flood your brain. You sit straight up as if someone had poked you with a cattle prod. The thick foam of the mattress encases your every move. Bright rays from the morning sun cast in through the spaces between the curtains of Negan's room. The sudden exposure to the light makes the throbbing sensation in your head quadruple in intensity. You squint your eyes in an attempt to minimize the light shining in them as you rapidly scan the room.

The whiskey glasses remain on the desk along with an empty bottle. You don't find Negan in the room. Your breathing comes to a halt as you try to listen for him in the bathroom but ringing silence is the only thing you hear. You rub your eyes and try to force yourself to remember anything about last night. It's hard to focus on anything with the migraine you have though.

I hope I didn't say or do anything stupid. Everything after that third drink is a blur.

You swing your feet off the bed, toes pressed into the hardwood. You pull yourself to your feet and pad into the bathroom. The grey tile is cold on your bare feet upon entry. You unintentionally catch yourself gazing into the mirror. Lifting your chin, you study the blue and purple tinted bruises around your neck that are perfectly colored to show Dean's handprint. The black eye having turned yellow now really puts time in perspective for you. The strangulation marks will take longer to fade for having been so severe. Your eyes aren't as heavy as you remember them to be.

Already, you can see a drastic change in your reflection. You're definitely feeling a change in yourself as well. For over a year, the thought of being free was like a dream, a myth, a shout into a void. It was something so out of your reach that you never thought it would be tangible.

But here you are, against all odds. Your eyes find your arms, the bruises are all yellow and almost gone. The pink scars still remain etched into your skin. The cigarette burns riddle your hands. You'll wear these marks for the rest of your life. Every day you will be reminded of the trauma you've endured. You decide right then and there: never again. Never again will you let anyone do that to you. You won't be a victim.

You think a shower would do you good and maybe even help you think more clearly. The sliding glass door moves with a gentle push of your hand. After turning the water on you shred your clothes off your slim figure. Thankfully, you left your shower stuff here from yesterday.

Why did I do that? Am I getting too comfortable?

The hot water feels good against your skin. You can't remember the last time you had a hot shower until you moved into Negan's room. You stand there for a moment, savoring the warmth of the water and the steam lapping over your bare body. You try to think back to last night, but it's only coming up blank.

I'm his wife.

You almost audibly gasp remembering that tidbit of information. You've been trying so hard to remember what happened after that you forgot about the before.

Why did he do that? He didn't okay that with me first? I feel like that's something you run by somebody before you just go ahead and do it. Oh no. What is Dwight going to think? He was already upset when he thought he made me one of his wives. Now it's a reality. I do remember him saying it was just the title though. Even so, that title holds a lot of weight. Why do I still have to live with him? I need to ask about that.