Phew! Guys, it feels like forever ago that I started this fic and I finally got my ass in gear and updated!
Prepare yourselves for some more teenage angst and a lil’ bit of protective Negan. Apologies for the crazy long wait, I hope this chapter is worth it :) xo
Staying out of one another’s way was easier said than done when sharing such an enclosed space and such contrasting personalities.
Blake was very meticulous and organised, her side of the room was incredibly neat and tidy. Her bed was always made with her pale floral sheets and neatly folded patchwork comforter and her desk space was never cluttered. If she wasn’t studying her textbooks, she was reading novels or staring out of the window sketching the variety of people that passed by.
On the opposite side of the spectrum was Negan. His side of the room was so unkempt it made Blake anxious. His bedsheets bared gory skull and piston designs, the floor space around his bed was littered with piles of clothes and several motorcycle helmets. From what Blake could see, there was no studying material, no textbooks, it made her question why he had even enrolled in college. But the worst thing about sharing a dorm with Negan by a mile was his electric guitar and concert grade amplifier.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t talented, he could play very well but being woken up at 2am by Negan practicing his Slash guitar solos had Blake contemplating committing murder. He would lie on his bed with his headphones on, playing and often singing gruffly along to whatever rock track had taken his fancy. It drove Blake mad.
Tonight was no different. Dressed in nothing but black boxers and an unbuttoned red plaid shirt, Negan lay on his bed propped up against the wall strumming along on his roughed-up Gibson. Blake turned over to face away from him, pulling her quilt over her head, hoping to muffle out the sound. Seeing that he was having an effect, Negan upped the ante.
“'Cause you could be mine… But you’re way out of line,” he sang loudly, occasionally glancing over at Blake’s bed. He choked back a giggle when he saw her kick her legs and throw the covers back as her anger grew.
Launching herself from her bed, Blake stalked over to Negan, her whole body trembling.
“Do you really have to do that?! It’s 1am!” She spat, clenching her fists.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” Negan chimed, taking his headphones off with a smile, “did I wake ya?”
He was impossible, he drove her insane, “you’re such an immature degenerate,” Blake hissed, heading back over to her bed.
“Damn, you’ve gotta stop with all these compliments, you’ll have me thinkin’ you fancy me Blake.”
“Piss off Negan,” she hissed back, throwing her duvet back over herself in a dramatic fashion.
Blake woke up with a scream, opening her eyes to find the entire class staring and laughing, and her Professor looking over her.
“I appreciate full participation in my lessons, might I suggest you sleep while in your dorm and not on my desks for future reference?”
“Sorry Sir,” Blake whispered beyond mortified at her predicament.
The Professor turned on his heel and made for the front of the class and Blake choked as a cold voice came from behind her.
“Haven’t you heard Prof? She’s sharing a dorm with Negan! No wonder she’s tired! At it all night apparently.”
Her face was on fire, this was embarrassment on a whole new level. The temptation was there to run and take a swan dive out of the fourth-floor classroom window.
“Yes thank you for that, Sherry. If that is the case Miss Beaufort, I suggest you limit your sexual escapades so’s not to interfere with your studies. Either that or you drop my lesson, the choice is yours.”
She couldn’t bring herself to reply, just a slight nod of her head. Risking a glance over her shoulder she saw the sneering smirk of Sherrie, her name had been bandied around the corridors as something of a scheming bitch and boy was she living up to that title.
“The fuck are you staring at whore?!”
Blake couldn’t handle it. With lightning-fast reactions, she quickly packed up her satchel and jacket and bolted out of the room to catcalls of ‘whore’ and the ringing of laughter in her ears as she sprinted down the corridor.
With the rumour mill in production, the wheels were in motion on the bandwagon and Blake’s hopes of a quiet time in college were shattered beneath its wheels. Thanks to Sherry and her girlfriends, the name ‘Negan’s Whore’ was tossed about like candy amongst the students.
It wasn’t long before news reached Negan.
A cigarette dangling from his lips and wrench in hand, Negan tightened the bolts on the exhaust pipe newly fitted to his treasured Harley. He wiped his oily hands down his ripped jeans, smearing the denim fabric with dark stains which didn’t look out of place. Wiping the back of his hand across his forehead which had begun to sweat in the midday heat, he took a long drag from his cigarette surveying his handiwork.
Simon sidled up alongside him, “lookin’ good Boss.”
There was something in his tone, the way he was acting that immediately caught Negan’s attention, “what’s goin’ on?” He asked turning to face his buddy.
“Sherry, she’s badmouthin’ you again.”
Taking a deep lungful of smoke, Negan dropped his cigarette butt to the floor crushing it into the asphalt with the toe of his steel-toe boot.
“Fuckssake,” he growled, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nostrils, “she’s a fuckin’ psycho, what’s she been sayin’ now?”
“Oh, the usual, jealous ranting about you and your new whore.”
“The fuck? Who the fuck is she on about?”
“Your roommate? Blake?”
Negan’s eyes flared, barely able to keep his anger under control. With his blood boiling and the intent of tiger hunting his prey, he stalked through the corridors searching for Sherry. He didn’t give a fuck what she had to say about him, he was used to dealing with her petty bullshit. But to drag Blake, sweet innocent Blake, that shit was not okay.
Target locked, “SHERRY!!!” Negan bellowed.
Sherry jumped in fear with a startled squeal, her posse of skanks were quick to surround her and everyone within earshot fell into a stunned silence eager to see what was about to go down.
Regaining her composure Sherry flicked her mousy brown hair back, batting her false eyelashes, “hey handsome, that whore of yours not putting out? A guy like you needs a real woman to satisfy him.” She purred moving closer, tracing a manicured hand down his t-shirt clad chest, “I could keep you satisfied Negan…”
As her hand moved down his torso, Negan snapped. Gripping her hand in his, his hold was on the borderline of pain, “get your fuckin’ hand off of me Sherry before I crush it.” He pushed her hand away, smirking at the hurt look of her face. The girl was repulsive to him, even just the scent of her cheap perfume was threatening to make him gag.
“I’m gonna say this to you one last fuckin’ time. I am not interested in you. Never have been, never fuckin’ will be. I would rather fuck a fuckin’ cactus than you.”
Their audience giggled at that comment, Negan’s way with words was something of a legend that had followed him throughout his schooling.
“You’re a desperate, petty little whore, not Blake, you.”
The resonating slap across his cheek stung but he didn’t care, she needed to be fuckin’ told.
“Fuck you Negan! Fuck you!”
He chuckled leaning in close, “I know you want to, but you ain’t ever gonna have the privilege…whore.” Straightening up he cracked his knuckles as he glanced around at the attentive audience gearing up for his final comments, “stay the fuck away from Blake.”
You know what I didn’t miss about The Walking Dead? All the people trying to start fights with Negan fans. It’s like every time I go into the Negan tag I am seeing people trying to bait his fans into fighting. Or people saying how awful Negan fans are. People seriously need to get over themselves.