Negan was the leader of the saviours, the largest and strongest group after the world ended. You had joined them a few months ago and ever since you and negan always bumped heads. you were one of the leaders of the separate groups in the saviours, Negan made you one himself. Although he hated you, he had respect for you.

During meetings you both always bickered and insulted each other. the others didn’t know how you weren’t dead yet, anyone who talked or even acted with Negan in that way they’d be burned and left for dead with the dead ones outside. He was intrigued by you, maybe even obsessed a little. He loved the banter he had with you, it made his day.

On this particular day you had joined him in a supply run to the nearby communities. Things ended up getting out of hand. Countless civilians from the other communities were either dead or injured and some saviours were wounded. Including you. You were sitting in the back of the truck, Negan's truck. He ordered someone else to drive and immediately headed over to you. Your wound was on your side, it wasn’t too big or painful, just a knife scraped you.

“Lift your shirt, darlin’,” he ordered, pulling out some cleaning solution he had found with a fresh cotton pad.