#my dog fucking TAKED him. HID HIM somewhere i am DEVASTATED

[wilhelmjfink]

“was” pt. 9

my fucking master list post isn’t working and idk wtf it’s issue is but here’s part 9 of i believe 11 or 12 enjoy~

also remember that i am far too lazy to edit these old stories that i am too lazy to post frequently i am sorry

Both Y/N’s and Negan’s mouths fell open in shock — there was a fraction of a second, she noticed, that Negan let his regular arrogance and confidence waver, just long enough for her to notice before the familiar sneer returned to his face.

Apparently, he was just as shocked to see him as she was.

“Holy shit, everybody! It’s fuckin’ Daryl!” Negan was beaming, though it was obvious through his eyes how furious he was, how stupid he must’ve felt being played a fool throughout Daryl’s absence at the Sanctuary, quickly realizing he was indeed losing control of the little empire he’d built up around him. He strutted toward Daryl who didn’t flinch, even when Negan shifted Lucille exaggeratedly from one shoulder to the other or when he bent down and just hovered inches away from his face. “Look at you,” he leered, eyeing Daryl up and down, unable to prevent his smirk as it quickly melted into a scowl as he did so. She knew he was referring again to Daryl’s fearlessness as it was always something Negan admired in him — it was why he’d taken her away from him in the first place.

And she knew that Daryl was scared… but couldn’t help the way her heart flipped inside her chest with joy and relief at the sight of him standing up for her. All she wanted to do was run to him and have him assure her that everything would be just fine.

Daryl was glaring back up at him pointedly, not blinking his eyes that hid behind his shaggy locks of brown, messy hair. He was dirty, he was exhausted, he was beaten and cut up and bruised; but he was the most beautiful thing that Y/N had ever seen.

“You and I have a lot of catching up to do,” Negan growled just low enough for Daryl to hear. He stood strong, though; even as the sole fact that Y/N was sitting in the corner of the room, alive and bright nonetheless terrified, had his brain screaming at him to go to her. Fuck, she had actually woken up. His fucking girl had come back to him. She had come back to him, and he was supposed to be basking in the relief that had shaken his body to the core. He could’ve wept with joy at the sight of her, living and breathing. But he refused to let Negan sense it.

Negan had a way of punishing people who wronged him by hurting what they loved instead of hurting the one who really deserved it.

“Stay away from 'er,” Daryl snarled, inching forward just closely enough to him to reinforce his words.

Negan’s white-knuckled grip twisted Lucille around irately, his head tilted in interest, features unwavering as he glowered down at Daryl. Footsteps approached behind them and slowed to a halt, Rick, Carol, Jesus and Michonne appearing behind them, with several other Hilltop residents forming an audience in the background being shoved aside by Saviors as they made their way toward the altercation.

Rick, of course, was the first to step forward, hands up in calming surrender, trying to diffuse the situation before it inevitably got out of control. “Hey… alright, let’s talk…”

Negan wasn’t hearing any of it and flung Lucille over from where she rested on his shoulder to pointed forward inches from Rick’s face threateningly without breaking eye contact with Daryl. “Hold it, Prick,” he warned. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, too, but I can’t help but feel like Daryl here is fucking asking for it.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ askin’,” Daryl snarled. At that, Negan’s smile returned as Daryl closed the last of the tension between them threateningly as one final forewarning before he begun to feel himself teetering over the edge of self-control. His voice dropped dangerously low. “I’m telling’ ya. One more time. Leave her alone."

“Daryl, Daryl, Daryl…” Negan taunted him, separating them slightly as he stood taller over top of him in an obvious effort to intimidate him. It almost had Y/N smiling because she knew that it meant Negan was beginning to get apprehensive.  “I don’t think you understand. I care about Y/N. A whole lot, actually."

Stepping back forward to close the space Negan’d just created, Daryl strode forward aggressively, growling before cutting him right off. “Ya better fuckin’ choose your next words real carefully.”

“I want her to work for me.”

Daryl stiffened furiously, the flames in his eyes so harsh Negan could almost feel the heat radiating from them, but Y/N interrupted first, pushing herself upright from her wheelchair that she’d remained in for so long. “I would never work for you!"

“Alright, alright, calm yourself down,” Negan immediately disregarded her, holding his hand behind him to belittle her but calm her down nonetheless. “I’m just a little worried about how she’s healing is all, you know? I mean, can you blame me?” He was being dramatic as usual, not fooling anybody — still, none of the bystanders moved a muscle or made a sound, all too afraid to draw attention to themselves. Negan took notice and looked at all of the wide eyes on the faces that stared at him. “What? Oh — I’m sorry, let me clarify. I don’t mean work work,” he chided, relaxing back on his heels slightly as his sneer returned in full form. “I meant work, like, ya know…” He waggled his eyebrows, gleaming past Daryl as if he was clarifying to the others watching. “Freaky deaky."

And in the blink of an eye, Daryl fucking snapped.

He pounced like a tiger on Negan who, despite having a physique that towered over him, was taken by surprise at the archer’s audacity and was tackled to the ground. But he was just as strong as Daryl, and it wasn’t long before it had turned into a full on brawl between the two men.

Y/N shouted at them, pleaded for them to stop, begged Negan not to hurt Daryl as they fought like cats and dogs, snarls and growls and all, while his friends helplessly watched on.

Rick was fighting some sort of internal conflict on whether or not to interfere: every time he considered stepping in, Daryl seemed to have it under control. And when he didn’t, he wasn’t so sure Negan wouldn’t just kill him for doing so.

When they managed back to their feet, Negan hoisting Daryl up, they spun around once again in a whirlwind of punches and curses, grunting as they threw themselves at each other, Daryl slamming Negan up against the wall forcefully and getting a few solid blows in before Negan gathered his bearings and twisted them back around.

Y/N was horrified, mouth agape, mind reeling for a plan or an answer or anything to help her figure out what the fuck to do at that moment. God, she just wanted Daryl to be okay. That was all she fucking wanted. And she didn’t think it was too much to ask.

Negan charged him into the table, tumbling on top of him and landing several punches before Daryl brought his legs up and, fueled by fury and adrenaline, managed to kick him off though Negan had enough of a hold on him to drag him along as he stumbled backwards and through the bay window.

Daryl heard nothing but rain and shattering glass all around him and underneath it somewhere was Y/N screaming his name, but he could’t dwell on it for long because reality settled back in when Negan rolled over with a pained groan beside him but still managed to push himself up and dove back at Daryl to finish the fight.

It was a blur of colors and pain and Daryl was already weakened from the past week of the emotional torture he endured and lack of sleep and sustenance and normality. Negan was ruthless, his fighting capabilities matching his usual bad-boy demeanor, and Daryl was taking the brunt of his anger and knew that it was long overdue for them both.

But he had crossed the fucking line.

Daryl wasn’t even sure who he was in those moments: he couldn’t remember a time where he’d been so unfathomably angry, so blinded with rage that all he wanted to do was kill the man opposite of him. He wanted to watch Negan’s eyes as the life drained from him, as the realization of it all came crashing down on him and he got to linger in the last moments of his life terrified and bitter and miserable. His girl was in his peripheral, screaming as she was held upright by Michonne. He didn’t need any more fuel for the fire raging inside of him, but the sight of her could have driven him right to the gates of the Sanctuary to kill every single Savior with his bare hands if that was what she wants him to do.

With a newly found rage Daryl rose to the top once again as they rolled around on the damp ground, the collar of Negan’s jacket bunched in his left hand as he clocked him again with his right, the knuckles that collided with bones already scorching even through the knowledge that there was still no end in sight.

At least, not until the familiar chorus of cocking guns rang out, and once again he could hear Y/N call out for him, and it was clear as day.

Distracted by it all for just a split second Negan got one final hit in, knocking Daryl square across the jaw and sending him sprawled onto his back on the ground, laying still to catch his breath and basking in the relief the cool rain brought to the fire that was still surging through every nerve in his body as it poured down on to him.

In a second, Y/N was at his side, hovering over him and shielding him from the rain as she was quickly drenched in her own tears of terror and devastation. He groaned softly as she whispered comfortingly to him, shushing him, telling him to lay still and beg him to just do what Negan said.

God, he had never been so fucking angry in his life.

He reached for her pathetically, slowly losing his grip on reality as the headache throbbed with each beat of his heart and had him swimming around in the dark spots that plagued his vision. Searching for her, listening to her gentle whispers, the feeling of her soft hands caressing the sides of his face, that was all that kept him hanging on by that narrow thread. The fact that this was all he’d fucking wanted anymore, all that he’d asked for the last excruciatingly long week, was enough to keep him going on forever if it meant that she would be there by his side.

“Oh, God, Daryl,” she sniffled, leaning forward and pressing several delicate kisses to his forehead and swollen eyes and bruised jaw. “Why? Why did you do this?"

None of the dozens of Saviors that surrounded the scene fired at Y/N while she’d pathetically hobbled to Daryl, while Negan’s men helped him straighten back up on the other side. But when Rick or Carol or Jesus tried to move over to their injured friend, there was quickly several barrels aiming at them and halting them in their tracks.

And Negan was in pretty bad condition, too — his nose was spouting blood, drenching the front of him down to his white t-shirt that was now stained a deep red. A nasty cut above his eye brow had split open and he held it stiffly, obviously trying to stifle the pain, swearing to himself before he pushed himself completely upright.

“Line ‘em up,” he growled the simple direction to his men who immediately obeyed. One by one they forced the citizens of Hilltop to their knees and Y/N instantly went off, babbling hysterically to Negan as he observed the assembly before him.

“No, please, Negan! Please! I’ll do anything!” The look on Rick’s face as he was pushed down had her spiraling out of control, all too familiar, flashbacks of the last time they’d had to do this debilitating and shaking her to the core.  "Please don’t hurt them! Please don’t hurt him!”

“It’s too late for sorry’s now, doll,” he growled in response, wiping some blood on the leather sleeve of his jacket. He was furious, and Y/N was quickly plunging into a full-blown panic attack, her hands latched on to the lapels of Daryl’s vest as she was yanked away by a burly Savior and forced to her knees.

Her hand clutched her stomach painfully where her wounds were. Daryl noticed and whether her cries were from pain or fear he had to try and help her and had to make it okay — but when he reached out to her he fell forward himself, weak and exhausted and beaten, using one hand braced down in the mud in an attempt to keep himself relatively upright while he tried still to catch his breath. Y/N sobbed helplessly at the sight.

It was pouring. Negan was mad. Y/N trembled in her spot, still quietly begging Negan to stop while he eyed the crew before them as they kneel motionless and silent.

“Wow, deja vu, am I right?”

He scowled every more so when nobody laughed at his poor attempt at his sick, twisted humor.

“I have tried so fucking hard to work with you people. I have given you so many chances, and you have beautifully blown every single fucking one of them like they were gigantic, thick fucking cocksuckers!” He seethed, his voice raising with every word despite being slightly skewed from the swelling in his face. “And now… oh, you fucking mother fuckers, now you are going to fucking pay.”

The smile returned and Y/N doubled over in some mixture of pain and hysteria, gasping as she tried to breathe. Again, Daryl forced himself to reach to her, yearning to feel her in his hands by offering her solace the only way he could think of, only to be torn away the second his bloody fingers brushed against her hair.

She screamed as it happened, instinctively reaching out for him as the Saviors yanked him away and forced him back to his feet, having to drag him like a rag doll since he was still recovering from the fight.

Lucille was shoved harshly into his chest and he grunted. “Congratulations, Daryl. You’re the lucky winner of the night.” There was no longer any hint of humor in Negan’s words as he motioned dramatically to the crew of Daryl’s family before him. "Pick your mother fucking prize.”

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