twd imagines

A/N: this one is gonna be a little dark but i hope you like it <3

Also, I am putting a trigger warning in here because there is a scene of attempted r*** so if this is a sensitive topic for you, please skip this chapter or skip down to the bolded area that I will provide at the end of the scene. Stay safe and protect yourselves and your mental health<3

Shit. My head

You think to yourself as your eyes flutter open. You're in a dark room, tied to a chair. Your head is pounding and you have no clue where you are. The last thing you remember is being knocked out by a guy in a black leather jacket after you encountered him on the road. You weren't in a group, being by yourself since the start of the apocalypse so you knew there was no one coming to save you. 

"You're awake." A gruff voice says, startling you slightly. 

"Who are you?" You groan, your head throbbing and you close your eyes.

"Who are YOU?" He asks, stepping into the small amount of light coming from a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. 

You open your eyes to look at him. It's the same guy you remember seeing before you were knocked out. He was in a black leather jacket, a red scarf around his neck, and a salt and pepper beard covering his chin. In his hand he held a bat that was wrapped in barbed wire. You imagine that is what he used to knock you out and what have you this horrific headache. 

"Y/N." You say quietly. 

"Pretty name. Where you from?" He asks. 

"Atlanta." You respond. 

"You with anybody?" He asks. 

"No. I've been by myself for the whole time." You grimace, your headache getting worse and worse. 

"Sorry about that. You're a bit of a fighter." The man chuckles. 

"Who are you?" You ask again. 

"Negan." He says. 

"Please let me go." You moan. 

"Ah see I don't want to. You're quite the warrior. Not to mention gorgeous." He says, taking a step closer to you. 

"Please." You ask again, knowing the answer already. 

"You're not going anywhere." He says and leaves, locking the door behind him. 

A tear falls down your face but you quickly force yourself to stop, straightening in your chair because you're going to get out of here. Even if it's the last thing you do. 

Negan's P.O.V.

I lock the door behind me and smile to myself. This was a good one. She's beautiful and a hell of a fighter. I gingerly touch the gash on my face where she clocked me with her gun before I knocked her out. She'll be a good wife for me and an even better addition to our group. 

"Keep an eye on her Dwight. She's special." I say.

He nods and I head back to my office, thinking about Y/N. 

Your P.O.V. 

Your wrists are raw and bleeding as you continue to fight against the restraints that Negan has you in. You are determined to get out. You can feel the ropes slowly starting to come loose, but not loose enough for you to slip your hands out. Suddenly, the door swings open and you freeze in the chair, halting all your movements. It's not Negan but someone else. His face is severely malformed on one side, from what you assume is a healed burn. His hair is long and stringy, his beard is full, and there is a cigarette balanced in between his lips. He leans up against the door way.