maryroyale

[fumifooms]

Makima, devils and self-fulfillment

Dumping some Makima and CSM thoughts after a part 1 binge bc I think about her forever and ever. I’m sure I’m forgetting some devil lore, feel free to correct what i get wrong/what’s been confirmed. On the table of contents there’s why & how Makima got fixated on Chainsaw, her revealing liking for the country mouse and discussion of her nature & emotions & desires. Was the scorpion doomed to be a scorpion?

The most of this post was thought of during a conversation with @saccharineomens and I don’t think it makes sense to jump into the spiral it sent me on without first laying down the interesting groundwork theorizing she did:

"Thinking about how makima herself wants to be deified. I wonder whether she recognizes the difference between Love As Worship and the love that Aki, Power, and Denji had. She says she wants to help humanity by having Chainsawman eat the “bad” devils, but why does she want to help humans? Because she was ordered to by the Prime Minister? No, her drive seems much more personal than that, it seems like she teamed up with the PM for contractual reasons. (In the most recent chapters we see governmental members wanting certain devils to be eaten, too. What was Makima’s relationship with them? She’s too independent to just follow THEIR orders, she’s Control.)

So is she wanting to better humanity for the accolades, or out of the goodness of her heart? She sees the big picture. She sees any small sacrifice as worth it for the end result, and she’s ruthless. Perhaps she thinks that a more sedate human race would be easier to control? But Makima doesn’t loathe humanity. She never acts like she sees all humans as lesser. She loves humanity’s creations, like good food and movies. She just wants Good Things all the time

She says she prefers the country mouse BUT adds a story where she helps exterminate country mice like vermin. She likes the simplicity yet rejects the idea of being simple. Makima the complex individual you are"

~

The story itself seems to prefr the country mouse. Well- it strikes a balance, shows that a risk to live good & fully can be very worth it, but still that stability over ambition is preferable, proning having a simple happy life over fame, a simple job instead of a dangerous one, etc etc. And I do find Makima’s answer on this so so interesting, she prefers the country mouse, but this preference isn’t out of affection or sympathy but because of how relaxing it feels to exterminate them when they cause problems.

Order satisfies her. Her order satisfies her. She likes the action of rooting out disorder. Maybe this is the devil part, like how Power especially wants blood and drinking it, I feel there’s an itch to every devil, and for Makima it’s a very rigid world view/morality/standards & making things follow her rules and submit to her order.

And maybe this is why she’s attached to humans too, why she felt it was worth it to stick with the government- because devils are chaotic by nature (it’s a whole plot point that hell is essentially a free-for-all battleground for example), meanwhile humans are the species that universally rule Earth with systems they invented and instilled. They made then enforced rules, complex and intricate webs of them. She feels alienated amongst devils but she understands the humans’ need for an orderly organised society, and now she wants to be part of it. Control and conquest require social dynamics after all, requires civilizations or groups. War is chaotic while peace is, well, peaceful— Makima resents her sisters for being death, famine and war, things that throw the world in such chaos. She wants a world of perfect order, no matter how much collateral damage there will be if the end result is control.

This is even more interesting if you consider that yes, Makima is untouchable of her own design, she deifies herself with her omnipresent amount of control and the sway over others that she seeks and encourages— There is this urge to dehumanize her for it, that yes, she is the devil of control and that means she was never going to be any different, have any more feeling be any less uncanny. And I love part 2 so much for this, because it shows us the war devil and the famine devil and we see how frankly uncharismatic with poor self-discipline they are, Nayuta too, and it helps us realize just how much Makima’s success was self-made.

She admires Chainsaw Devil, the Hero of Hell, because he had his own code and his own rules and he made Hell, the chaos pit, submit to them unfailingly. Wherever he goes he decides what he does and what happens to the people he encounters but does so consistently, he has his mechanism and his rules that he always obeys, and he fulfills them every time. It’s still a mystery the why of Chainsaw Devil’s behavior back then and how it works exactly, maybe Pochita left hell because he was tired of these rules he lived by like chains, but still, he was a servant to his code. Makima would have been glad being killed and eaten by Chainsaw Devil because it’d have been becoming part of his design, his conquest, his domination, she’d have been part of that —his— order. Through her death she would be shaping his world and be part of a conqueror’s making history. Like how she appreciates the country mice that die for the sake of order. Like how sacrifices must be made to herself, like listing the name of every person whose life was lost to the Gun Devil— All for the ~greater good~, for her vision for the world. Conquest always thinks its reasons are justified.

And she does mention with the country mice thing that she goes out to a friend’s farm every year! She has a human friend?? That she visits yearly and she genuinely likes it?? Ultimately she lives a busy city life because of her goal and drive and her urge & satisfaction with overseeing shaping the world herself, but part of her, like so many characters including Angel and Aki and Reze, wishes she could live a slow peaceful country life. Moviegoing and dogs and mice in a farm- Wouldn’t it be so much simpler if Makima could find fulfillment and happiness in being a farmer, in keeping control of her own farm, getting satisfaction from exterminating vermin and expertly getting everything right, the right crops grown at the right time on the right soil? Here, too, in a way it’s trying to have full control of an ecosystem, but her goals would be easier to achieve and better, without ceaseless sacrifice or much pressure. But Makima wants grandiosity and her goal does matter to her on a fundamental and moral level, she does think she knows what’s best for the world, and with the power to change it why wouldn’t she strive to? Visiting the farm is just a break, just something she does in fall to help out and just in time to see the vermin extermination. It calms her, then it’s back to actual work.

In capitalism, even the one at the very top of the ladder is ultimately alienated from others and often unsatisfied by their lifestyle, always wanting more and more power because surely that’s the extra edge they must be missing to be content— like how Makima thinks she wants to dominate Chainsaw Devil instead of being his equal. And she says it herself too, she likes humans the way humans like dogs…….. And she keeps so many dogs :( Makima prefers the country mice because they’re calming to root out, maybe because she usually mainly deals with city mice. It’s very easy to equate humans to the mice in this allegory because it’s pretty direct and she’s already likened humans to lesser animals compared to her. She’s self-isolating by design for her design but she still craves relationships and contentment, and the dogs are the embodiment or her want for bonds and occasional simplicity because there is no possible ulterior motive, no way they tie back into her wider plan. They’re her personal life— something that feels so alien when speaking about Makima. Personality and individuality and likes and preferences and friends they visit every year. She likes how easily she can train a dog and how they become putty in her hands, at her beck and call, how much they love her and how much she enjoys their love. How simple and straightforward and easy it is. She keeps them because she likes being loved by them and loving them, and she’s gotten and raised so many. A conqueror always wants more and more and more, is never satisfied.

Devils and agency

Like Power the blood devil wanting blood and having a fixation on drinking it like with Denji’s, or how it was shocking that the violence devil was pretty tame and nice and how he himself theorized it was because he was a fiend and possessing a human body… There’s something to be said about nature vs nurture with the devils. The way they reincarnate and always embody their fear makes it seem categorically like nature, that they always always end up fulfilling the role they were named after and born to fill… Outside influence they’re helpless but to conform with. Like the humans accepting their spot in the social ladder and the shittiness of their living conditions and job under capitalism. Makima craved being equals with someone despite being the control/conquest devil, Angel Devil despite claiming to be a devil who likes to see humans dying was haunted by their deaths and wanted to avoid ones like Aki’s. The Ghost Devil being ironically haunted by Himeno, seemingly helping Aki in her memory out of… Lasting affection? Or maybe it was less about being haunted itself and more about it recognizing how Himeno haunted Aki, and acknowledging that, with the memento, paying her respect to the ghost of her. It’s Angel Devil’s devil nature that makes him like human suffering, so then is it his angel nature too to still care about their deaths? Is there truth to this or is that just personality, just our confirmation bias haunting every part of their identity like it might in their own view of themselves too? We do know different reincarnations of devils do have different personalities after all.

Yoru, war devil, is the most interesting one when talking about the nature vs nurture debate with devils. There is how through her we see the perhaps the most the consequences of a devil stopping being feared— we see a horseman for a concept as universal and horrifying as war be reduced to some bird who needs a contract with a human to have any power even just on the situation when meeting Asa. And through the story we get to know her better, and it becomes clear that her goal is fueled in good part by simply wanting to be remembered and respected through fear. Liked, validated, seen a powerful. But what is more isolating than war? Or control? We also see Nayuta accepting others’ house rules. If part 1 shows perhaps the futility of running away from the truth, with Denji’s memory, with escapist coping mechanisms, with passivity and denial under a corrupt system and with abusive relationships- running away from your own feelings and from the reality of things and from all that you are, more complex than simply human or devil or both or neither— part 2 builds upon the theme of cult of personalities, the chainsaw church, etc. The apocalypse is coming, but this celebrity superhero might save us all, or doom us all uh, dunno. The hero of hell reliving the cycle of pressure from responsibilities and expectations, maybe the part will end with Denji running away like Pochita did~

But yes, on the reverse, I think Famine is a very interesting example of how a devil’s namesake may be more innate than coerced by circumstances. One would think that a famine devil would only like inflicting famine upon others, not being famished itself, but Famine has a bottomless stomach that can never, ever be satisfied, sated. I struggle to find a psychological explanation for this, except that maybe instead of her being hungry it’s her feeling empty when she’s not eating, tasting and having that high sensory experience that releases serotonin in humans, sort of like drugs? But I do take this as a step towards the compulsion theory overall, feels like a reach in the consistency otherwise. And compulsion does not mean it’s something that they like nor that it’s something that they fight against, pretty neutral, just a nature that nudges you towards one path. Maybe it’s even just their go-to for entertainment. Maybe it’s the only thing that makes them feel right and whole. But still the debate remains, what is it, a compulsion or an urge or an itch or an active desire or a conscious chosen want? Does it change anything in practice?

And because of all of this earlier, devils being self-fulfilling prophecies with their role is not in unsignificant part nurture, because doing their atrocities is how they stay remembered— feared, powerful, known— hell and devils are a very isolating place and breed after all, and we do see devils can want companionship. Existentially, it’s their purpose and how they justify their place in the world, in the terrifyingly vast and unknowable cosmos.

We still know so little of what makes Chainsaw Devil so special, why his carnage is so self-controlled. Despite a chainsaw maybe being possibly one of the most "nature" thing you can be— a tool to cut things, a human tool that can be helpful for many things, something to be wielding by another at their judgement on what they decide, but mainly something to cut, a tool suited for carnage, to hurt and to destroy. A blade with a toothed chain, spinning around and around and around endlessly on the same road at the same pace. Such a…. Innately circular concept. And yet the Chainsaw Devil is his own, not driven by an urge or by chaos but his very own brand of order, his own unique assigned purpose, a "if you call i’ll come running to help" policy equalizing everyone. He chooses to withhold his destruction and interference otherwise, and then he chooses to be used. If it’s a choice, of course.

Maybe this is what inspired Makima so much, that Chainsaw Devil could decide what to make of himself despite expectations or innate role. Because even Hell he decided & managed to subjugate under his will and whim, with a precise vision and process. When Chainsaw Devil acts like Denji or is defeated, Makima clicks her tongue and loses her admiration and respect. Makima admired and liked Chainsaw Devil, but only as long as he matched her great image of him in her mind, as long as he followed he rules for what she thinks he should be like. She admired him for his unrivaled self-made success, but once he stepped out of that to truly embody self-fulfillment and agency, disappearing from hell to live on his own road at the beat of his own drum… Well. Surely that was a mistake she has to correct. However their second battle ends, the better conqueror will have prevailed and she’s happy about that, all in the spirit of domination and subjugation.

Imo Makima’s biggest tool, similarly capitalism’s most helpful effect for its own purposes, is complacency. Resignation and passivity helps uphold the system and go along the flow of the will of the people in power. Aki and Reze go along with orders even when knowing their job is trash, etc. In Angel Devil especially we see him go along with the flow uncaring about anyhing, and we discover it was in part due to Makima taking away memories that motivated him. If every devil decides this is just how things are and how things should be that’s what they’ll continue to be and do mindlessly, not pursuing a better life like Chainsaw Devil and Denj and not seeking to change the world like Makima. I think even Makima veils herself to a lot of things, she doesn’t like to think deeply about some things, like her desire for connection, or how making bad movies disappear is strenuous and unsustainable and requiring sacrifices at best— how her judgement is as subjective as anyone else. How liking the country mouse and her friend back at the farm and her dogs could be not devoid of sentimality. Wanting bad movies erased is her one biggest show of selfishness, of pettiness and individuality, it’s about her tastes, simple as. About how she can have tastes, and cry seeing a scene of people hug, and want things that aren’t logical, her ideology and mind twisted into a pretzel to avoid acknowledging that she doesn’t live and breathe purely for the mission she’s made a single-minded robot out of herself to accomplish. Nayuta is assertive and selfish and loud, Makima is manipulative and strategically both for her goals and for coping hollow.

Everything in her plans and goals she says is for the greater good, necessary evil, manufactured happiness the way she’ll have decided for people— and that’s the thing isn’t it, like with War, it’s the crack that shows it was all truly about herself after all. Her self-made deification still had the flaw that a self made it. Makima is not omniscient, and it’s not Chainsaw Devil the not-so-fellow-kindred-soul conqueror who gets the best of her, but a city mouse, a dog, someone she would have never thought to respect, Denji.

[kim-poce]

Kill the Dragon

CW: knight whumpee, multiple whumpers, dragon whumper, implied future torture.

Next

Masterlist

=====

Knight shamefully looked down when the dragon glanced at him, he was supposed to kill them and rescue the princess, he wasn’t supposed to wear an iron collar around his neck, stripped from both his armor and weapons and his dignity, just a human in front of that monster.

“Take it,” the dragon said, tossing a piece of bread at Knight, who grabbed it immediately, he knew better than being proud while the dragon was willing to feed him.

It could be worse, he told himself while eating, feeling the pair of orange eyes on him. The dragon –as he found out– thinks humans as more fragile them they truly are, so as long as Knight obeys they won’t hurt him, It could be worse, it-

Knight swallowed hard when another person entered the cell, his whole body screaming him to fight, an instinct that should have awakened when the dragon came, not when the human walked in. It turned out worse.

“Oh, honey,” Dragon smiled greeting the princess, quickly pulling her to a hug which Knight lowered his head not to see, with luck he would not be noticed, as if she didn’t come all the way here fro him, “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but I’m up for an hour or so now,” Princess said with a sweet voice, her cheek turning pink as she talked with her lover, only after a couple of minutes of greeting did her eyes land on Knight, he would feel her intentions even without training, but the training made the feeling so much stronger, made the fear do much worse.

“I suppose you want to have fun,” the dragon said, tossing a last piece of bread to the Knight which he grabbed but didn’t dare to put in his mouth, “I’ll prepare a meal for you, honey, so take your time.”

“Thank you, love,” Princess said, kissing the dragon’s cheek before they walked away, and Knight hated how he would rather them to stay.

Princess walked closer and Knight forced himself in a proper kneeling positing for a knight, kneeling on one bleeding knee and waiting for orders, “Slept well?” the princess asked with a cold voice, nothing of the sweetness she was using before.

“Yes, thank you for your kindness your highness,” Knight said, used to the test by now, he hated that, he hated needing to behave like that, but he is a knight, he has to obey the royal family, even if the order is to humiliate himself and take pain quietly.

“Won’t you eat it?” She asked gesturing to bread placed on the floor, which he would be punished for eating without permission, the same way he would be punished for holding it while kneeling.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, another set up for failure thing, again he has no option that won’t hurt him, “I’m so-”

“My beloved took their time to feed you and respond with such ungratefulness?” She asked coldly, walking even closer, the air getting as cold as her words as she used her powers. Rescue, he would laugh if the fear allowed him, the princess never needed such a thing, he needs, “Answer me.”

“I’m sorry, your highness,” Knight said, forcing his voice to be as even as possible, he knew what to say next, he knew what she was going to do, still he forced the words out, while she was giving him a chance to speak, “Please, punish me,” he said and braced himself for the pain.

=====

@cupcakes-and-pain, @wolfeyedwitch, @extemporary-username, @badluck990

[thewalkingdeadimaginings]

One Wish

Hey, I LOOOVE your imagines! I was wondering if you could write something where the reader is Negan's wife, but helps and falls for Daryl. Elaborate how you like, it doesn't have to be long or it can have smut, just whatever you think would be cool is great!! If you can't I totally understand! Have a lovely weekend! -Sam😊

Hi Sam! Sorry I’m getting to this so late! I hope you stuck around cause…you did send this…probably around six months ago and WHO WOULD WAIT THAT LONG FOR THEIR REQUEST. No one probably. But I’m trying my best to get through all these 6-8 month old requests. In November it’ll be a year since I started this blog 😊 so that’s exciting. But now I’ve got new requests coming in that I don’t wanna make the same mistake of taking six months to write it. Gotta work faster, faster, faster. Anyways, ENJOY.

It’s remarkable how quickly things change. One morning, you woke up in your husband, Negan’s arms feeling so happy and in love. You did have to share him with other wives but you didn’t care. Once the two of you were alone, it felt like those other women didn’t exist. Those moments meant so much to you. You never expected that to change.

But then Negan left for the day and didn’t come back for the rest of the night. He had returned by the next morning and when he did, he had someone new with him. You stayed in your room, knowing Negan didn’t want you coming outside just yet. But you stood by the window and watched Dwight drag out a man who was wounded badly, barely able to walk. He was pale and gaunt and bleeding profusely from his shoulder. Negan didn’t say a word to you about where he was going so this stranger’s sudden presence was quite a surprise.

“Get him in his cage,” Negan said to Dwight, “I’ll have someone come in and clean up that wound. You got him good, Dwight. Damn.”

Dwight nodded in agreement, shoving the wounded man forward, “Come on, Daryl. Get moving.”

You felt terrible for Daryl. He was moments away from collapse and was being shoved around like he was nothing. Not only that, but he looked so scared and so uncomfortable. Clearly, Daryl was some kind of enemy. Negan wouldn’t have thrown him in “his cage” if he wasn’t. But he seemed so harmless to you. What could he possibly have done?

A few moments later, Negan came into your room, laughing when you jumped away from your window, “It’s fine, Y/N. Lookin’ stunning as always. Sorry I didn’t come back last night, had some business to take care of with another group. Lessons to learn, deals to make.”

“That’s where that Daryl guy came from?” you said, “Why’d Dwight shoot him anyway?”

“Not important,” Negan replied, “Speakin’ of Daryl, Dr. Carson’s a little busy this afternoon but Daryl desperately needs his wound cleaned up. I know that Carson’s been teaching you some stuff. Mind helping me out a bit, honey?”

“Anything for you,” you said. You’d been getting better and better at all the medical stuff lately. You didn’t have the same know how that Dr. Carson did but you could give stitches and dress wounds. Negan grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing a kiss on your lips. He still knew how to make you melt.

“You’re an angel,” he mumbled against your lips, “Gonna have to pay you back for this later.”

You let out a content sigh at that remark, giving Negan a small nod, “I can’t wait.”

After gathering the supplies you needed, Negan brought you to the cell he’d stuck Daryl in. You requested to be left alone with him just so he’d be at least somewhat comfortable. Negan laughed at your compassion for the man but agreed, taking Dwight and leaving. Before they left, you demanded they turn off that goddamn radio so you wouldn’t have to listen to “easy street” on repeat while you worked.

When you opened the door, you were stunned at the sight of Daryl completely naked. He was curled up in the corner of the room, fidgeting and trying to cover himself. You knew about the things Negan had done and continued to do and you always looked past it. But this was hard to ignore, hard to justify. Wasn’t it enough that he’d been shot? Now he was being humiliated? Stripped of his dignity?

“I’m here to fix up your wound,” you explained, “It’s alright. It’s just you and me here. I sent Negan and Dwight away.”

Daryl didn’t speak, didn’t even look at you. You approached him carefully, holding up the first aid kit you’d put together, “I just wanna help you. My name’s Y/N. Can you turn to face me please? So I can clean up your shoulder.”

He turned a little but still focused more on keeping himself covered. You shrugged your jacket off and held it out to him, “Here, you can cover yourself with my jacket if you want. I’m…I’m sorry about this.”

Without a word, Daryl took the jacket and laid it on his lap and finally turned to face you. You opened up your kit, “Just gonna wipe the blood off with water to start.”

You would’ve waited for a response before beginning but Daryl wasn’t going to respond to anything you said so you got a rag wet and started wiping the dried blood off his tanned skin. He winced slightly but otherwise didn’t do anything.

“Alright, I’m gonna clean the wound with something that’s gonna sting,” you explained. You took the wet rag and added rubbing alcohol. You hovered the rag above Daryl’s wound, taking a deep breath as if this was going to hurt you just as much as it would hurt him. When the rag touched his skin, he clenched his jaw and groaned, his entire body tense against your touch, “I know it hurts. I’m trying to make it quick but I wanna be thorough so you don’t get an infection.”

Daryl sucked in his breath and held it as you cleaned his wound. A few tiny whimpers escaped his lips but he still didn’t speak a word. When you finished cleaning his wound and set the rag aside, he exhaled, finally relaxing.

“I know, that’s the worst part,” you said, “I’m sure Negan won’t keep you here long. He kept Dwight here for a bit if I remember correctly. I don’t know what happened out there last night but it couldn’t have been good if Dwight shot you.”

Daryl grunted, which earned a sigh from you, “Not much of a talker, are you? I get it. After all this, how could you trust me?”

“You finished in there yet?” Negan called out, “Dwight’s got his breakfast ready!”

“Just bring it in here,” you said, “He can eat while I work.”

Dwight entered the room with a sandwich that had the strangest looking mush in it. He dropped the plate on the floor by Daryl’s legs, staring at your jacket on his lap in disgust, “What’re you doing, Y/N?”

“Just leave me to do this,” you said, “It was uncomfortable for both of us.”

“Fine,” Dwight muttered, “But he doesn’t keep the jacket. Eat up, Daryl. And hurry it up, Y/N. While we’re young, alright?”

Rolling your eyes, you continued working as Dwight walked out and left you alone with Daryl once more. You looked down at the sandwich, picking up the plate and smelling it. Was that dog food? Was Negan feeding these prisoners dog food?

“Jesus,” you whispered to yourself. You didn’t understand why Negan would take things this far. This was insane. What other lines did Negan cross right under your nose? You set the plate down on the floor, feeling uneasy as Daryl took the sandwich and bit into it, “I didn’t think it was like this.”

As usual, you got no answer from Daryl. So, you finished cleaning and dressing his wound. You gathered all of your supplies back into the first aid kit and stood up. Daryl curled back up in the corner, picking up your jacket and tossing it your way.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “I’d let you keep it but…apparently that’s not what Negan wants. I’ll see what I can do about that.”

As soon as you left, Dwight started playing that easy street song again and it made you cringe. The thought of what Negan was putting Daryl and all the other prisoners through weighed heavily on your mind. It made you start questioning everything.

“I was thinking…” you mumbled that night as Negan was getting ready to come to bed. You tugged on a loose thread from your pillowcase, “There’s really no point in stripping those prisoners, is there? Maybe we can give them some clothes.”

“Why do you give two shits about the prisoners?” Negan said, “What did Daryl say to you while you were working on him?”

“Nothing,” you replied, “He was silent the entire time. I just think…what’s the point of stripping them and feeding them dog food?”

“All Daryl has to do is agree to kneel and join me,” Negan remarked, “It’s that simple. I don’t want you getting too close to that man, Y/N.”

“I’m not sure that’ll ever happen,” you said, “He wouldn’t say a word or even look at me. Maybe if you didn’t…well…take his clothes from him and force feed him dog food, you might get more of a response from him.”

“Look, I’ll handle things my way and you just do what you do best,” Negan said, climbing into bed beside you. It became obvious what he was implying when he buried his face in your neck, kissing along your collarbone. Normally, that shut you up and made you feel good but things felt too complicated now. It just never occurred to you how badly things were for everyone else around here.

“Negan, I’m just…not feeling it tonight,” you mumbled, “Too much on my mind.”

He sat up, chuckling softly as he shook his head and got out of bed. As he headed for the door, most likely to get what he wanted from one of his other wives, he shook his finger at you, “You’re no better than me, Y/N. You’ve lived comfortably this entire time while assholes like Daryl were in their cages. If you wanna join him, by all means just let me know and I can arrange it. Is that what you want?”

You slowly shook your head and hugged your knees to your chest. Negan laughed again, almost smugly as he opened your bedroom door, “That’s what I thought. Like I already said, Y/N, stay away from him unless I need your help treating his wounds.”

Over the next few days, Negan called on you to change Daryl’s bandages. He still hadn’t given him clothes or anything to eat other than dog food sandwiches. And he still played that easy street song incessantly, though he allowed it to be turned off while you were there. You could tell he wasn’t sleeping, probably because that song was on full blast all day long. After Negan made it clear he didn’t want you getting close to Daryl, you kept things short. It would’ve been pointless to even try anyway. He’d never trust you. You were the enemy. And Daryl was supposed to be your enemy but you just couldn’t force yourself to see him that way. Perhaps Negan was the real enemy. You knew he had an out of the ordinary way of handling things but you never thought to look into it. But after seeing Daryl in such a terrible state, you wondered what else Negan was up to.

“I wish I could convince them to keep that song off so you could sleep,” you remarked, pressing down on the edges of the bandage to keep it stuck to him.

“Get one wish and that’s what you’d ask for?” Daryl’s first words to you were cold and filled with venom but just the sound of his voice was startling enough, “Figures.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, your shoulders slumping, “If I got only one wish, I’d wish you right out of here. Believe me. I’d wish us all out of here.”

Daryl looked at you up and down, “Ain’t you Negan’s wife?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “But…I’m just…starting to notice things. And I’m not liking what I’m seeing. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m Negan’s wife, I can’t leave.”

Daryl shrugged, “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

You paused, staring deeply into those blue eyes, your fingers lingering on his skin longer than you intended, your heart racing as a feeling crept into your mind that you weren’t sure you’d ever felt before. You shrugged the feelings off, figuring it was probably just sympathy for the naked prisoner sitting in front of you.

“Kinda does, yeah,” you said. Clearing your throat, you pulled away from him and got back up on your feet, “Well, I’m done here for today. I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Or not. I don’t know. I’m sure Negan will start sending you to Carson soon.”

Daryl nodded, holding your jacket up, “Don’t forget this.”

“Right,” you mumbled. He curled back up in the corner as you left, signaling to Dwight that you were finished and he could shut and lock the door once again. Seconds later, the music started up again and you hurried out of there before you lost your mind. But was it the song or the man making you go crazy?

Negan didn’t send you to change Daryl’s bandages anymore just as you’d expected. He made it clear that he would be sending him to Dr. Carson from now on. The more you started rejecting Negan, the more obvious it became that you had developed an attachment to Daryl. Negan, though he had many wives and just barely had a need for you, didn’t like to lose. And he especially didn’t want to lose to his prisoner. He’d keep you in his clutches forever.

But it did work. Being away from Daryl made it much easier to ignore those feelings you’d been so confused about since the last time you’d seen him. Things with Negan hadn’t gone back to the way they were before Daryl’s arrival, but you sucked it up just to keep Negan from getting angry. Lately, he’d been giving Sherri all of his attention anyway to poke at Dwight as much as he could.

Unfortunately, you would have to face those feelings eventually as Dwight found you and demanded that you come to the infirmary, claiming that Daryl refused to let Carson anywhere near him. It seemed Daryl wanted you to check his wounds and only you.

“Is that what he said?” you asked as Dwight dragged you by the arm.

“Please, he isn’t saying shit,” Dwight grumbled, “But he was fine when you were treating him and he won’t let Carson touch him. Maybe he’s gotta crush on you or something.”

“Doubt it,” you muttered, though the thought made your heart skip a beat. Once you arrived at the infirmary, you were relieved to see Daryl was finally given some clothes. They were smelly, filthy sweats but it was better than nothing. You frowned at the giant orange A on the sweatshirt, “Why’s there an A there? What’s it stand for?”

“Asshole,” Dwight snickered. You rolled your eyes as you sent him and Dr. Carson out of the room. Dwight protested at first but he knew you wouldn’t do anything until he left. You knew the resistance had something to do with Negan as Dwight always stayed away when you were helping Daryl.

Once Dwight and Dr. Carson were gone, you shut the door and walked over to the cabinets, pulling out clean bandages, “So, Dwight said you don’t want Carson treating you.”

Daryl gave a slight shrug but he was back to not speaking. You sighed as you approached him, gently touching his shoulder, “Mind if I take this off?”

He pulled the sweatshirt off over his head and you laid it down on the counter. You started with his back, as usual trying to ignore the scars on his skin. It would’ve been rude to ask where they came from. Whatever caused those scars must’ve been awful and this whole experience could easily be putting him in an even worse place.

“I wish there was something I could do,” you mumbled, lowering your voice to a whisper, “A way out for both of us.”

“Can’t be that bad for you,” Daryl said.

“I’ve just realized how wrong everything is,” you said, “I don’t want to be a part of this. I never did. I just…selfishly ignored it because I thought I was in love. But I’ve come to realize…I don’t think I was in love with him.”

Daryl turned his head slightly, “What made you realize that?”

“I…” you paused, your hands trembling as you set the dirty bandage aside. He turned his body to get a better look at you. Your body was burning up, those confusing feelings rising once more in your mind, “I…I don’t…I’m not sure. But it might be…might be um…might be something I wish I had the option to pursue.”

“So many wishes,” Daryl mumbled.

“I know,” you said, a light chuckle falling from your lips, “I’m pretty sure I only get three.”

Daryl turned back around, his elbows resting on his knees, “I wish you could too, Y/N. Wish we both could.”

You finished up with his back, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you moved to his chest, carefully peeling the bandage off, “Healing nicely. Looks like I kinda sorta know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah,” Daryl grunted. Your hand remained on his chest and you could feel his heart beating fast, which seemed to make him nervous as he started fidgeting and glancing at the door. This was insane and wrong on many levels. It would get you both into huge trouble but the longer you stared at him, the looser your grip on your self control became. His tongue darted across his thin lips as his blue eyes finally focused on you.

You found yourself leaning into him and he wasn’t protesting or stopping you. You could hear his breath tremble as your lips inched closer and closer to his. When your lips came down onto his, the electricity you felt was almost painful but you didn’t want it to stop. All the tension that surrounded the two of you in that moment faded away as you closed your eyes and held his face in your hands. You wanted to explore every inch of him, feel his hands on your skin. But Dwight was right outside the door and the two of you weren’t safe. With the last bit of self control you had, you pulled away, though you kept your forehead pressed against his.

“Wow,” you whispered. You stroked his hair before stepping away from him. You wanted to finish that kiss, take it even further but you couldn’t risk it. Negan would make Daryl’s life even worse if he found out. That kiss was already a huge risk. You took a clean bandage and placed it over his wound, “I-I’m sorry.”

Daryl took a minute to steady his breathing before he answered, “Don’t be. Just…”

“Just…what?”

“Wish…we…didn’t have to…stop.”

You sucked in your breath as you handed him his sweatshirt. You would’ve done anything to have more time alone with him. But his safety was more important than anything else right now. You sighed, “Me too.”

Negan kept you even busier after that. He didn’t seem to know about the kiss, he would’ve made it obvious that he knew. But he noticed a definite change in you so he started accompanying you to the infirmary whenever you worked on Daryl’s wounds. Negan had allowed him out of his “cage” and had him working outside. You may not have been able to go outside while he was but you could sit by your bedroom window and watch him work. He caught you staring a couple of times but he didn’t seem to mind. You could’ve sworn you’d seen him crack a smile.

You rarely spent time with Negan’s other wives anymore. You didn’t even see Negan that much anymore. You wanted so badly to get Daryl at the very least out of this place even if you couldn’t go with him. But the opportunity hadn’t come up yet. But as everything usually does, that changed when a young boy from the group Negan had taken Daryl from snuck into the sanctuary and killed two of Negan’s men. His main goal was to kill Negan but that plan obviously failed badly. It was almost sad watching that boy. You had no idea what Negan would do to him. He was so young and so angry. How had you not noticed all of these things before? Whatever love you felt for Negan couldn’t have been so blinding that you would’ve just ignored everything he was doing. Maybe it was just that Negan kept you safe, Negan fed you and clothed you and protected you. It’s easy to overlook bad things when you’re safe and sound behind thick walls. But you would rather face danger with Daryl than be safe and be a part of Negan’s cause.

With Negan gone, having taken the young boy back home, you were able to grab the keys that would get Daryl out of his cage and out of this place. No more hiding, no more pretending. You couldn’t stand this any longer. But when you got to Daryl’s cell, the door was already open and he had vanished.

“Oh god,” you mumbled to yourself. You crept through the hallways quietly as you heard the voices of Negan’s men. They would surely question why you were there, especially with keys in your hands. And you weren’t strong enough to take them down so you had to stay low and stay quiet.

The sounds of grunting and groaning suddenly came from outside, followed shortly by the sound of metal hitting the pavement. You followed the noises, rushing out the back door where all of the motorcycles and trucks were kept. Daryl was standing over a man he had just beaten to death with a metal rod. He had blood spatter all over his face and clothes. He’d changed from the sweats to a grey t-shirt, a dingy flannel, jeans, and a baseball cap. A man stood a few feet away that seemed to know Daryl but looked over at you in a panic.

“How…?” you said, “Who’s…who’s this? What’s…”

Daryl turned around to face you, “Y/N. I don’t know who but they slipped me keys. Remember when you said you wished you could get outta here?”

“I remember.”

Daryl hopped on one of the motorcycles and started it up, staring at you with hope in his eyes. You knew you wanted to leave but there was still hesitation, mostly just because you knew Negan would be furious and if you and Daryl were caught, he’d kill you both.

“You comin’ or not?” Daryl said.

“I…I’m scared,” you said, glancing at the man who’d been standing there in silence this whole time.

“There’s safety if you leave with us,” the man said, “I’m Jesus, from Hilltop.”

“See?” Daryl said, “We’ll be safe, Y/N. Come on. Leave with me. I want you to leave with me.”

You slowly came towards the bike. A smile curled on your lips as you leaned over and pulled him into a kiss. You could finally kiss him freely without a care in the world. He returned the kiss more aggressively than he had before back at the infirmary and you could never get enough of it. After this, you could kiss him whenever you wanted without fear. You could kiss him, hug him, hold his hand, fall asleep in his arms. He made you feel safer than Negan ever could.

“Let’s go,” you said as you pulled away from Daryl’s lips. You climbed onto the bike behind Daryl, wrapping your arms around him as Jesus told him he’d catch up with them. You rested your head on Daryl’s back as he rode off. Looking back at the sanctuary getting smaller and smaller was exhilarating, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Believe it, Y/N,” Daryl said, “We’re outta that hellhole.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, “For being a part of that. I can’t believe you still want me to go with you. You should’ve just left me there.”

Daryl rode down the empty streets for a few moments until there was enough distance between you two and the sanctuary. He pulled over to the side of the road and leaned back a little, sighing heavily, “Because that ain’t who you are, Y/N. Could tell from the moment we met. You’re better than those pricks. Deserve better too.”

“You really mean that?” you said.

“I do,” he replied. As he started the motorcycle up again, you distracted him for a moment, placing a few kisses along his jaw. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, “What’re you up to, Y/N?”

You wrapped your arms around him once more, running your hands up his chest a little, whispering softly in his ear, “I still wanna finish that kiss.”

HEY LOOK I DIDN’T TAKE ANOTHER MONTH TO POST AGAIN HAHAHAH. This was originally gonna have smut, simply because they mentioned it even though they didn’t necessarily ask for it. If smut is something they’d like to have, I’ll put it in. But I couldn’t really find a good spot to add smut. So, if you want a sequel with just pure smut, let me know!! 😊 but Daryl was a sad puppy in these episodes so writing this one shot was kinda difficult for me. Anyways, hope you liked this one shot!