#negan pre-apocalypse

[pedroscurls]

Title: One Drunken Night (Part 1.)

CHAPTER TITLE: An Unexpected Stranger

Character(s): Negan (pre-apocalypse), Reader (third-person POV), Lucille Summary: Reader’s date stands her up, so she decides to stay at the bar anyway. Then, she meets Negan who unravels her entire world.  Word Count: 2,462 Author's Note: I have been so excited to write this story and I can't wait for you all to read it. It is an alternate universe for the characters I'm writing and pre-apocalyptic as well. Also, I'm giving a warning that I am including Lucille in this story and while I love her and Negan together, this story will showcase their crumbling marriage. So bear with me! It'll all be worth it... Enjoy! Warning: SMUT!!!

“I’m trying, Lucille!” Negan yelled, running a hand over his face. 

“Not hard enough,” she spat back.

This had become the norm. Negan would get home from work and Lucille would nitpick every little thing he was doing wrong. It had been like this for so long that he had gotten used to it. He didn’t know what happened in his marriage that caused this abrupt shift, but he was tired. He was exhausted. 

“Nothing I do will ever be enough, will it?”

Lucille crossed her arms over her chest. “Seems like it.”

“Goddamn, Lucille. What the fuck do you want from me?”

“I want you to find a better job. We’ve already talked about this. You even agreed with me, even told me how you hate your job now, but you aren’t even doing anything about it!”

“Like I said, I’m trying.”

“Oh? And how’s that?” Lucille replied, shaking her head. “You come home and go straight to that game of yours, cursing at other kids… You’re a gym coach, Negan! I know that’s not what you want to continue doing.”

Negan scoffed. He rolled his eyes and looked over at her. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Yes, I do! You’ve complained about that job for so long, but you’re not doing shit about it and I am tired of hearing you complain.”

Negan tightened his jaw. He knew she was right, but he just was too comfortable at the position he was in now that he didn’t want to start over and look for another job. He didn’t want change. “My complaining isn’t hurting anybody.”

“It’s all you talk about!” 

“Well, that’s a fucking lie. You’re no saint either, Lucille.”

She shook her head. “I’m trying to make this work.”

“How? By yelling at me every fucking day?”

She threw her hands in the air and sighed, looking over at Negan. “I don’t know what to do to help you anymore, Negan.”

“I don’t need fucking help, Lucille.” He spat, turning on his heel. He grabbed his car keys and left the house, slamming the front door shut. Negan needed to get out of the house. He didn’t know how much more he could take, but he needed space, he needed fresh air. 

So, he went to a bar in the city. Negan looked down at his hand and sighed, removing his wedding ring and putting it in the glovebox. For one night, he just wanted to forget.

Taking a seat at the bar, he ordered a glass of scotch and focused his attention on the basketball game that was being broadcasted. He had lost count of how many nights he and Lucille argued. He didn’t know what happened in his marriage that led to the constant arguments, the constant nitpicking. He didn’t even feel like Lucille wanted, or even loved him, anymore. If anything, the look in her eyes was always filled with disappointment. While the arguments were consistent, his sex life with Lucille wasn’t. He tried to initiate sex plenty of times, hoping that physical intimacy would ease whatever tension was built up, but she had rejected him every single time. So, Negan had become quite acquainted with his hand. It wasn’t the same, but he didn’t know what else to do.

He was so distracted in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed a beautiful woman sitting next to him. Alone.

“Goddammit!” Negan heard her say. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, noticing that she was also focused on the game. “How’d he miss that shot?” she asked herself.

Negan downed his drink and raised a finger to order another. It was the courage he needed to make conversation. “You a Lakers fan?”

She didn’t face him, but she nodded. “Oh yeah. Though, the 2008 Lakers is my all-time favorite.”

Negan smirked to himself. He yearned for conversation that didn’t lead to him getting yelled at. “I’m Negan.”

She finally turned her attention to him. She surely wasn’t expecting someone as handsome and ruggedly sexy as him to talk to her, so it took her by surprise. The salt and pepper beard sat perfectly on his face, showcasing his dimples and his thin, inviting lips. 

He was the perfect distraction she needed.

“That’s an interesting name.”

“Yeah… Don’t ask me why my parents decided on it.”

She giggled. Negan was feeling increasingly confident. “I’m Y/N.”

“Well, nice to meet you. You waiting on anyone?”

“Had a date.” 

“Oh, that bad?”

“He stood me up.”

“Ah fuck, I’m sorry, doll. His loss.”

She smiled, shrugging a shoulder. “It wasn’t serious. To be honest with you, it probably would’ve just ended up with me hooking up with him anyway.”

Negan choked on his drink, quietly coughing to clear his throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Hm? Oh, I met him on this dating app. You know what that is?”

Negan scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “Of course. I’m not that fucking old.”

“Well then, you should know that those dates rarely turn into something serious. It’s an easy way to hook up with someone.”

“Pretty thing like you don’t got a boyfriend?”

She grinned. “I can’t be tamed.” Though, she was partly lying. She had her eye on someone, developed a crush, but the man didn’t know. 

Negan instead laughed. He shook his head and motioned to her empty drink. “What are you drinking? I’ll pay for the next round.”

“What a gentleman.” She winked. “Drinking a glass of moscato.” 

“Fancy.” Negan smiled, ordering another glass of wine for her. 

“Hardly.”

“So, it seems like you’re shit out of luck in the hooking up department,” he commented. Negan stared into her eyes and could tell that she was thinking the same thing. He watched her bite her lower lip, practically confirming that she wanted him too.

“Maybe not. The night is young, Negan.” She then turned her attention back to the game, once more getting excited with the game. Negan looked at her with an amused gaze. 

Oh, he was definitely going to sleep with her tonight. He would deal with the consequences tomorrow.

A couple of hours later, Negan and Y/N were now facing each other. His long legs were brushing against hers, practically inviting her to spread her legs for him. She was getting handsy, either running her fingertips along his forearms or running her hands along his thighs. It made Negan excited at the thought of how his night was going to end. It would feel good to feel something other than his hand for once.

“I can’t believe my team lost,” she said, feigning a pout.

“You poor thing,” Negan replied, leaning in closer to her. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked innocently.

“Hm…” I can think of a few things,” she whispered, biting her lower lip.

“Oh yeah?” What do you have in mind, doll?” Negan smirked.

“Wanna go back to my place?” she asked.

Negan grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”

Back at her apartment, Negan didn’t let her kiss him. Internally, he was battling with himself, but he couldn’t help the ache in his lower half. His mind drifted to Lucille, but he pushed the thought away once he saw Y/N pull her shirt over her head to reveal that she wasn’t even wearing a bra back at the bar.

“What?” she asked, undoing the button on her pants.

“Y–You weren’t wearing a bra while we were at the bar?”

She shook her head, licking her lips. “Who needs ‘em?”

Negan growled, pulling her to him and running his lips along her neck. He peppered kisses along her soft skin, hearing her whimper as a result. He felt his cock stir awake, pushing against the fabric of his pants. His hands ran along her sides, feeling her skin against his fingertips as he brought both hands to grasp her breasts. She gasped and Negan pulled back to look at her.

“Goddamn, you are beautiful.”

She grinned, pushing him down onto her bed. Y/N undid her pants, pulling them down with her panties as she stood in front of him, naked.

“Take your clothes off,” she demanded.

“Oh, yes ma’am.” Negan nodded, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor. Quickly, he undid the buckle on his belt and undid the button and unzipped his pants. Before he could push it down his legs, he watched Y/N kneel down in front of him. Immediately, he got excited about what was to come and he sat up, watching as her hands ran up his legs to the waistband of his pants.

“Can I?” she asked, fluttering her eyes innocently.

Negan smirked, bringing a hand down to cup her cheek. “Oh, you better, doll.”

She grinned and pulled his pants down with his boxers. His cock sprang free, twitching against his lower abdomen as Negan let out a quiet moan at the pressure that was released. He let his hands rest at either side of him, licking his lips.

“Well?” He asked.

“It’s– It’s big.”

He smirked. “It ain’t gonna suck itself, doll.”

“Can you at least say please?”

Negan growled, bringing a hand to grasp a chunk of her hair. He used his free hand to grasp his cock, letting his tip run along her wet lips. “Oh no, doll… If anyone’s going to be begging, it’s going to be you. Now, open up.”

“Happily,” she winked, parting her lips to let his tip slip inside. 

Negan groaned, releasing his cock and allowed her to take hold of it instead. He forced himself to keep it together, feeling her petite hand stroke his member as her lips sucked on his tip. It was the right amount of pleasure that caused his eyes to roll shut.

“Fuck,” he growled.

Y/N was feeling accomplished, slowly moving in sync with her hand and her mouth. She used her hand to stroke what her mouth couldn’t. She could feel him stiffen further and taste the liquid that was leaking at his tip. She was becoming increasingly wet and she wanted to feel him inside of her.

“Get up here,” Negan demanded. He was probably thinking the same thing. “I don’t know how long I’m going to fucking last if you keep doing that.”

She pulled away, licking her lips. “Mm, I really do love blowjobs.”

Negan grunted. He was enjoying her colorful language and the fact that she wasn’t holding anything back. He was used to women, especially Lucille, who didn’t like giving head and he always hated asking for it, but here was someone who eagerly enjoyed it as much as he did receiving it. 

“Where do you want me?” She asked innocently.

“Oh, don’t play that innocent card on me, baby.” Negan grinned, pulling her onto his lap. She felt his tip brush against her opening, causing her to whimper as a result. “We both know how naughty you are.”

She grinned. “Shh, it’s our little secret.” Negan didn’t have time to register or respond because she had grasped his cock, lining his tip to her opening before she slowly lowered herself onto him. He moaned aloud, feeling her tight walls wrap around his cock so eagerly.

“Fucking fuck!” He exclaimed, bringing his hands to her hips. “You feel amazing.”

Her response was a loud moan, slowly lifting herself up and down along him. She pressed her feet on either side of his legs, squatting down repeatedly as she felt his cock stretch her from within. It had been like nothing she felt before and she decided that she was going to stop going after men her own age. After all, she always had a thing for older men.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as her rhythm picked up in speed. 

Negan grunted, allowing her to ride him like her life depended on it. This was definitely better than his hand. 

“Fuck, baby.” Negan grunted, holding her flush against him as she moaned at the feel of him being fully inside her. “Yeah, look at you… Taking that dick like a champ.”

She moaned, staying still for a moment as she wrapped her legs around him. Negan grinned, standing from the bed and slowly lowering her onto her back. He pulled back, looking down at his slickened member once he pulled out.

“No… Come back.” She whimpered, pulling him by the hips.

“Where’s my please?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Please.”

“Good girl.” Negan grinned, grasping his cock and slamming into her. She moaned once more, moving her hands to grasp her sheets tightly. 

Negan didn’t hold back anymore. He continued to slam into her repeatedly, the sounds of their skin slapping echoed throughout her walls. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, causing Negan to lean down to latch his lips onto one of her nipples. Y/N arched her back into his mouth, feeling her walls slowly begin to tighten around him.

“Fuck, I know you’re close… Come for me, baby.” Negan mumbled against her, flicking his tongue against her erected nipple.

With one thrust, he felt her walls tighten almost painfully around him. She practically screamed out in pleasure with her eyes shut and her body shaking against him.

“That’s right… Good girl.” Negan didn’t falter, continuing his thrusts as he felt his own climax approaching. With a few more thrusts, he groaned aloud, filling her opening with his release. 

“Fuck…” He whispered, falling against her. “Fuck.”

She grinned, running her fingertips along his back. 

“You were great,” she said. “Really great.”

Negan smiled, pulling back and slowly pulling out of her. “You were too.”

“Just so we’re clear…” Negan heard her say. “This won’t be happening again.”

Negan arched a brow. “You sure?”

She nodded. “Positive. It’s called a hook up for a reason.”

Negan smiled, pulling his shirt over his head and grabbing his boxers and jeans. She was probably right anyway. He was still married and it wasn’t like they could just be in a relationship after this.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.” He said, pulling his boxers on to cover himself. Negan took one last glance over her bare body before she covered herself with the blanket.

“I agree. It was– It was sensational.”

“Oh, now you’re stroking my ego.”

“I was stroking something else there for a minute,” she winked.

Negan laughed. “Take it easy, doll. Thank you for an amazing night.”

She nodded, biting her lower lip. “Take care of yourself, Negan.”

Negan gave her one last nod and left her apartment. He sighed, walking to his car and stepping inside. He opened the glove box and pulled out his ring, taking a deep sigh. 

“Back to reality…”

---

Part 2.

[grabyoursaintsandpray]

Teacher!Negan doing what he loves.

[lunajay33]

Change Part.9

•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

Part.8

•Masterlist•

After a few hectic days and loads of stress we made it to a farm, along the way we lost Sofia, but Daryl hasn’t given up, everyone was setting up tents and Daryl wanted to set up farther from the group across the field, finally finishing putting our little camp together I slumped down on a lawn chair completely exhausted, my heart felt weak and my head was fuzzy

“Hey im bought ta head out fer sophia…..hey ya okay?” Daryl asked quickly kneeling infront of me

“Daryl…..I don’t feel so good” my head falling forward to lean on his shoulder

“What’s goin on what’s wrong?” His voice was laced with panic

“I don’t….dont know” I slurred as my vision was nothing but a blur and his panicked voice was distant

Feeling my body be lifted and being cradled by his safe arms, hearing him scream as my body was jostled as he ran

“HELP!” Soon hearing distant murmurs of others surrounding then everything went silent as darkness took over

Daryl’s Pov

“Quick lay her on the bed” Hershel said motioning to the bed

“What happened?” Maggie asked as she started taking her blood pressure

“Don’t know, she was fine this mornin then she just got faint, will she be okay?” I asked my body riddled with nerves

“Might just be stress especially with being pregnant it’ll affect her more, all we can do is wait and hope she’ll be okay when she wakes up” Hershel said as Beth laid a bowl of cold water and a clothe on the bed side table before they all left leaving just the both of us…..well technically the three of us

This isn’t what I wanted fer her, fer us, she was always so excited about havin a baby together and this is the luck we get even after all the shit we had to go through

Flashback

“Daryl can I ask you something?” She asked as she curled up next to me in bed

“Anythin sunshine”

“Would you ever consider I don’t know…..having a baby with me?” My heart skipped a beat, she’s hinted to this before but she sounded serious now, almost desperate

“Daryl you okay?” She asked looking up at me

“ ‘m fine just…..ya sure ya want that with me?”

“Of course D you know there’s no one else I’d rather experience my life with, you’re everything to me, but I don’t want this if it’s too much for you baby”

“Nah I want this, that baby would be the luckiest baby I the world ta have ya as a mom, but let’s wait we’re still young pumpkin” I suggest as I kiss her forehead

“It’ll happen when it happens, and when it does it’ll be amazing”

She’s a gift from god, she’s made everythin better in my life and that’s all I wanted to give back but how in this screwed up shithole of the world

“How’s she doing?” I looked back seeing Lori at the door

“Don’t know” I grumbled going back to focusing on her holding her hand in mine

“She’ll be okay, she’s strong” she said before she left, all I could focus on was the love of my life

Wringing out the cold clothe and dabbing her forehead I remembered the first time she got sick in front of me and tried to act all tough

Coming home from work I called out waiting for her to come running with open arms like she always did but all I got was her groaning from our bedroom

“Sunshine?”

Walking into the room I see her curled up on the bed with blankets sprawled everywhere and tissues littering the floor

“Daryl?” She whimpered as I sat on the bed next to her, her lips pale and her nose ruby red

“Baby what’s going on what happened?” I asked rubbing my hand up and down her thigh

“It’s my period and the cold, mixed together to try and kill me”

“Not my peach, I’ll get ya back and runnin”

“No D I can’t have you do that, you’ve been working all day, I’m fine”

“Ya can’t stop me I’ll always be here ta help ya”

“I love you Daryl”

“Love ya more pumpkin”

Normal Pov

My head was pounding all I could remember was sitting around the camp before everything became hazy

“Hello?” I managed to groan out slowly opening my eyes

“Hey ya okay, I’m here sunshine” he said as I felt his hand smooth down my hair, I sat up quickly confused

“Ya need anything?”

“Who……who are you?” His face seemed to drop but I didn’t know anything that was going on, where I was, who he was, how I even got here?

“Princess it’s me, Daryl your husband”

“I’m sorry I don’t know anything”

He left the room soon coming back with an older man with white hair and a younger girl with short brown hair

“How’re you feeling, any dizziness? Pain anywhere?” He asked pressing a stethoscope to my belly for some reason

“Ummm no not really, everything feels fine except I don’t know anything”

“Well what can you remember dear?”

“Well my name is y/n Dixon and I’m a ballerina!” The guy next to my bed clamming to be my husband smiled at that

“It seems the stress from everything has caused her mind to shut down parts of her memory to protect herself, it may come back with time most likely only temporary, just be patient with her”

Memory loss what the hell was happening

“Come on my ballerina let’s go get settled” my ‘husband’ said helping me up from the bed then leaving the house to a beautiful farm land

“I’m sorry I can’t remember” I said twiddling with my fingers nervously

“Ain’t yer fault Angel, it’ll be okay, my name is Daryl by the way”

“Are we camping or something what’s with all the tents?”

“Ya just a bunch of friends came together to uhhhh have some time away from everything” he said his eyes downcast

“Oh well that’s fun! I do have to say though if you are my husband I’m pretty lucky you’re very handsome” i said seeing his cheeks blush warming my heart

“Ya still got that about ya” he smiled as his fingers grazed mine

“Do we have any kids together?”

“Not yet, ya haven’t noticed yer pregnant?”

PREGNANT

I ran my hand down my belly finally noticing a bigger bump than would be just normal belly, my heart was beating fast and I felt sick

“Daryl I don’t know if I can do this, this is too much oh god” I said starting to panic as he steered me to sit in a near by camp chair

“Hey it’ll be okay baby, just breath I’ll be here with ya ever step of the way”

“I’m scared” my lip trembled

“I know I know but ya have ta breath it ain’t good fer ya or the baby”

“You promise not to leave me”

“I promise”

“Hey you’re up how’re you feeling?” A man with a sheriffs hat on

“She’s got memory lose, tryna take it easy, good thing we’re campin to help her relax”

“Right yeah, camping will help calm everything, I’m Rick, got yourself a pretty amazing man here, he’d do anything for you, never seen a love like yours” he smiled patting Daryl’s shoulder

“Thanks Rick, that’s good to know, so far he’s been pretty amazing, he must be if I’m having his baby apparently” I laughed as I felt a bit more calm

After Rick and Daryl re introduced me to everyone I didn’t feel as isolated, but everytime Daryl’s hand would graze against my skin or softly touch my lower back a tingle would shot through me of complete joy

“So am I really a ballerina or was that another side affect from the amnesia” I asked Daryl as I laid next to him in our tent

“Of course ya are, I like ta call ya and the baby my lil ballerinas, when we were younger ya loved the black swan, I bought ya yer first pair of slippers, I still remember the look on yer face, ya looked so happy, that’s when I knew I loved ya and would never let ya go” he said as he brushed my hair aside

“I wish I remembered, just being around you makes me feel so happy like no matter what I’m meant to be with you and I can’t even remember”

“I’ll tell ya everything ya wanna know, we just gotta give it time Hershel said anything could trigger yer memory maybe this’ll help”

“Okay ummm how did we meet?”

“We got assigned to be partners in school, best day of my life, ya never gave up on me”

“Where do we live?”

“Ummm in a small house bordering the town we grew up in” his expression seemed to change

“Oh that sounds nice, little cozy place I’m sure the baby will love that, do we have a nursery set up?”

“Not yet baby, we’ve……been camping a while” he said as his hand rubbed up and down my belly as I sat up infront of him now

“When will we go home, I wanna see our home D” I don’t know where that nickname came from but it felt right

“Ummm ya hungry sunshine? Want me ta make ya anything?” He said changing the subject but this must be hard on him too

“Oh umm I’m okay, I think I’ll just head to sleep now it’s been a long day”

“Okay pumpkin, it gets cold at night so if ya need anything wake me up okay baby?” His nicknames made my heart fill with joy which made the baby kick gently

“Okay D, good night” I smiled leaning over and placing a soft kiss to his check

“Night, I love ya”

Part.10

Hey guys sorry it’s been a while I’ve been kinda depressed hope you liked this chapter

Taglist: @pinchofthetwd @bigbaldheadname @strawberrykiwisdogog @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @l0kilaufeys0n7 @deansapplepie @tesfayera @daryldixmedown @secretsicanthideanymore @superbowlisgay @pollito-chicken @shadowrose13-blog1 @absssposts @writer-ann-artist @dgeckobones @twisteduniverse5 @heidiland05 @lettersfromyourlove @minnie-min @severelykinky @mordilwen-of-mirkwood

[curlymantis]

I commissioned @tommieglenn to draw my girl Mary and Negan pre apocalypse. Mary’s having a little moment where she’s reminiscing! 🥺💖

Once again thank you so so much!!! I love it :D

[band--psycho]

Negan x Reader - To Stay Or To Go?

Yes it has been about a year since I last posted a Negan story - I'm sorry!

I know this story isn't the best but I hope you all enjoy this!💛

And yes I will be writing a part 2!

A sigh slipped past Y/n's lips when she heard a knock at the door; her best friend and bridesmaid, Kass, had gone out to fetch the curling tongs from her room, seen as Y/ns decided to break, today of all days.

'Could she cancel a wedding because of broken curling tongs?' she thought to herself.

“It’s open,” Y/n called out; as she stared at the dress that was hung up against the wardrobe at the back of the room.

Anxiety consuming her.

The hours were going by so quickly and yet there were still two hours before her wedding.

Her wedding…the idea still sounded bizarre.

Part of her did love the man she was marrying today; Y/f/n; he was funny, thoughtful, kind, caring and the sex between them was certainly better than sex she’d had with most people.

Most people in her position would be jumping up and down with excitement if he proposed to them; but even though Y/n pretended to be happy, she wasn’t.

Not really.

But she also didn’t want to break Y/f/ns heart or embarrass him; how could she say no without doing both of those things when he proposed to her in the middle of dinner while they were sitting in an extremely busy restaurant?

Everyone’s eyes were on her, expectantly, forcing the word yes to fall from her lips; and then it was like she just got caught up in this whirlwind and couldn’t get out.

And the one thing that held her back from loving the man she was marrying today, was something neither of them could ever change; he wasn’t Negan....

“How you feeling, sweetheart?”

The unexpected deep voice snapped Y/n out of her thoughts.

She wanted to turn around; to see if the owner of the familiar voice was really here; but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

She was frozen on the spot, trying to work out if somehow she’d become a witch and teleported the

man her heart truly desired here.

He couldn’t be here?

How did he even know she was here?

There were so many questions that just didn’t make sense that she was sure she must’ve made up the whole scenario in her head; probably a warning from her heart to stop the wedding from happening.

To run.

“You not even gonna look at me, doll?” Negan asked, humor lightly lacing his voice. But Y/n did not move. She stayed frozen in the same spot.

“You’re not real,” she breathed; her mind continuously repeating those very words, over and over again.

“Oh trust me, sweetheart, I’m fucking real,”

“You can’t be,”

She kept telling herself that he couldn’t be real; but deep down she didn’t know what she’d do if he was real.

They didn’t have a horrible break up or anything like that, quite often Y/n wished they had broken up over something awful, that way maybe she wouldn’t still love him.

No, their breakup was the cliche of the right person, wrong time.

“Turn around,” he demanded softly; so she did, if only to prove to herself that he was just a figment of her imagination.

And there he was. Standing there in his same old classic look, a white shirt covered by a leather jacket, black jeans and black boots. He looked like he hadn’t aged at all since the last time she’d seen him; though the black circles under his eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them. A clear sign that he wasn’t sleeping properly.

The same look he practically always wore.

“C’mere,” he whispered, and it was like her body had a mind of its own because before she could even stop herself , she was wrapped up in his embrace.

One arm wrapped around her waist whilst the other was soothingly stroking the top of her head.

It felt like no time had passed even though five years had flown by since we last saw each other.

And still after all that time he felt like home.

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that with him but it was certainly longer than she should have.

“See, told you I was real,” he chuckled lightly, as he pulled her closer.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n mumbled against his chest, taking in the moment…taking in him, like he was going to vanish at any given moment.

“Kass called me,” he replied; making Y/n look up at him with a questionable look.

“She wants me to talk you out of getting married,”

Y/n knew Kass wasn’t happy about you getting married to Y/f/n; mainly because she could see that Y/n wasn’t truly happy with him. She wasn’t truly in love with him.

Kass had been trying to talk her out of this wedding for months; but Y/n just simply brushed off her comments.

“But I’m not gonna do that, sweetheart,” Negan stated, the words practically burning in his throat. He pulled back from Y/n slightly so his hand could move from the back of her head to her face, allowing him to caress her cheek as Y/n's eyes grew in confusion.

If he wasn’t going to do that then why was he here?

“You don’t need me to tell you this is a shit show of a wedding, by the look on your face you already know that,” he continued, making sure to hold her eye contact.

Negan didn’t want Y/f/n and Y/n to get married; why would he?

He still loved Y/n. He never stopped.

But this wasn’t his decision to make, it was Y/ns, it was always Y/ns.

“But I am gonna give you this,” as he said that he pulled away from her a little bit more before pulling out a key from his back pocket with a little post it note attached to it; and placing it carefully in her hand, “It’s a key to a hotel outta town, that’s the address for it.”

Y/n felt her heart stop as she glanced down at the key before looking back up at Negan.

“It’s for if you decide to leave,” he continued, with a softness in his eyes.

“Negan-”

“I won’t be there, not unless you want me to be,” as the words left his lips a cocky smirk tugged at the side of his mouth as he squeezed Y/n's hand.

She should’ve given him back the key; and told him that she was happy.

But that was a lie. But even though it was a lie she didn’t want to let anyone down or hurt Y/f/n because he didn’t deserve to be hurt.

Before she could say or do anything he pressed a delicate kiss to the side of her head before disappearing behind the door he’d entered from.

Leaving Y/n, alone, left with some difficult decisions.

Did she stay and marry Y/f/n or become a runaway bride?

And if she did run away from this marriage, what did that mean for her and Negan?

Years ago he was the right person at the wrong time; what if now he was the right person at the right time….

Taglist :

@little-diable @xacatalepsyx @bookworm1767 @backstagewiththemadness @thaliastregona @munsinner @impala1967dwinchester @mrsnegan @jdmsgal @howlingmadlady @https-lorna @nt-multi-fandom @wheelerdixon @dilfsandtherapy @bcarolina @bestbitchsstuff

[ghostboneswrites2]

Virgin

Summary: Reader is a virgin. Daryl might as well be.

Alexandria // pre-Negan era ; established but unlabeled relationship

Super mild corruption kink vibes (if you squint) on both sides. Reader is a nervous wreck, Daryl is kinda clueless but charming, skilled, and smooth as ever.

This is long and I'm not sorry about it.

18+ MDNI || Warnings: slight age gap, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p-in-v, generally embarrassingly graphic and descriptive smut, drinking (not drunk sex), loss of virginity, profanity

        Your hands shook as you filled two glasses with whiskey. Daryl would be over any minute. You had this date planned all week. Daryl was typically pretty busy with his bike or recruiting with Aaron, but he always made time for you when he could. Neither of you ever put a label to it -- boyfriend, girlfriend, partners, lovers -- it was all the same and those words never uttered from either of your lips. It just was what it was, and it made you both happy, whatever that meant. You did, however, often wonder what you really were to him. You liked to think he'd always choose you, but how could you know? You never would, not until it came down to an issue where you were a choice over something else. 

        You replayed your conversation with Rosita in your head all day, pacing nervously in your shared home with Rosita and Tara as you tried to rationalize how you would move forward with this newfound information.

        "So, spill! How is it with Daryl?" Rosita asked curiously, drawing out Daryl's name with a sultry, mocking tone.

        "Oh, things are good! He's coming over tonight, actually." You smiled softly to yourself.

        "No, dummy!" She giggled, slapping your arm playfully. "I mean in bed! Is he rough? Tender? Does he have any weird fetishes? Is he a boob guy or an ass guy? I peg him for an ass guy but I could be wrong."

        "Uh -- What?" You were stunned? In bed? You really never thought about that.

        "Come on, don't be greedy! Share the details!" Rosita practically begged.

        "Details.. Right. Well, there aren't any, really." You said slowly.

        "What?" She gasped. "Don't tell me he's the vanilla missionary type."

        "Vanilla what? No, I just mean we haven't really.."

        "You haven't had sex?!" She gawked at you. "(Y/N), stop right now."

        "Is that a bad thing?"

        "Men have needs, (Y/N). And so do we! It's the end of the world!" She shook your shoulders. "You gotta get your rocks off!"

        Rocks off? What did that even mean? You weren't really that much younger than him. You were twenty when the dead began to roam the earth. But, you were a virgin then, and you were still one now. You never liked anyone enough to get so vulnerable with them. You heard the rumors at school when girls would give it up 'too easily,' or when the guys at your jobs would be snickering about a girl they slept with. What her boobs were like, how she sounded, all the flaws they found with her body. You just thought it would be so foolish to put yourself out there like that, to be one of those girls they were talking about. How could you ever trust someone enough to see and feel every part of you after all of that?

        It wasn't that you didn't get turned on. You did, as much as anyone else. You  just took care of yourself. Plus, it wasn't like the apocalypse provided many opportunities for your first time.. Or did it? Had you been missing signals? Passing by your chances to get naked with someone? Did he even want that? How would you approach it?

        A knock at the door yanked you out of your thoughts. Oh god, was he there already? Was it time to get your rocks off?

        "Hey!" You grinned anxiously at Daryl as you swung the door open. He noticed your nerves right away. He raised an eyebrow.

        "Hey." He greeted. "Y'alright?"

        "Huh? Oh! Yeah." You waved him off. 

        "Well, uh, can I come in?" He asked. You realized you were standing there, blocking his entry, which you never did. You always threw the door open and walked away, allowing him to enter on his own accord and make himself comfortable. You internally facepalmed. 

        "Oh, duh." You chuckled as you stepped aside and shut the door behind him. "I poured us some drinks."

        "Cool." He nodded, stepping over to the table where two equally filled glasses stood waiting. He grabbed one and took a sip.

        You glanced him over. Clean clothes, no sweaty smell; he bathed for you. His eyes scanned you just as quick. He was a little surprised at your dress. It wasn't extravagant, just a floral sundress that fit you in all the right places,but you never wore dresses unless Rosita and Tara forced you for an event. You were more of a jeans and a tee kind of gal.

        "Pretty dress." He complimented.

        "Thanks." You blushed, smoothing your hands over it.

        "Rosita make ya wear that for me?" He wondered as he took another sip.

        "Oh! No. I just-- Uh.." You stuttered. God, why were you so nervous? He had to know something was up. You never struggled to talk to him. He was you dearest companion.

        "Just wanted to look pretty for me." He concluded with a smirk. Your face felt like it was melting right off the bone.

        You chuckled nervously and grabbed your own glass, taking a gulp, hoping to calm your nerves.

        "Sure you're alright?" He asked again.

        "Mm-hm!" You hummed with an eager nod. "I'm fine!"

        He shook his head and swirled the liquid around in his glass. 

        "You, uh.. Find us a movie for tonight?" 

        "A movie..? Oh! Right! Yes." You hurried over to the coffee table where a copy of School of Rock sat idly. "Do you like Jack Black?"

        "Mm-mm." He shrugged. "Think I've seen his stuff before."

        "Oh! He's funny. My brother used to watch all of his movies. Did you know he had a band?" You rambled.

        "Nah." He shook his head. "Didn't know."

        "It started with a T I think. I can't remember what they were called." You went on as you bent over to set the disc in the tray and get the movie ready. When you turned around you nearly dropped your glass. He was standing right behind you. "Oh.." You breathed. "You scared me."

        She studied your every feature, trying to figure you out. You were never a mystery to him. He liked that. You never seemed to be keeping anything from him, never had an ulterior motive. You were always a raw person. He never had to try and decipher you like he felt he had to with most girls he liked in the past.

        "Why you actin' weird?" He asked in a low husk.

        "Weird?" You squeaked. "I'm not--"

        "Ya are." He argued. "Real weird. And you never wear dresses."

        "I do wear dresses sometimes--"

        "Only when someone makes ya.You don't ever gotta dress up for me. Ya know that." 

        "W-- I know, I just.."

        "Then why?" He catechized you mercilessly. Your knees felt weak under the weight of this burden of nerves and unsureness.

        "I just..." You were at a loss. How could you play this off? You decided to try your best with whatever your brain could muster for an excuse. You straightened up and crossed your arms. "I just thought it'd be nice to look good for you, Daryl Dixon. Is that a problem?"

        He smirked a little, finding amusement in your sad excuse for confidence. He shook his head. "Nah, no problem at all."

        "Good. Now, excuse me so I can get out movie started."

----

        About a half hour into the movie and you were still imploding. Was it time to make the move? How could you do that when you couldn't even bare to look at him? Hell, you two had never even kissed. You just... Watched movies, sat close enough to be touching, snuck off on forest strolls, you know, normal things. Or was that not normal? Were you supposed to have initiated something more by now?

        He had been sneaking little glances at you the whole time, registering your faint expressions of worry. What was on your mind that had you so riled up? Had he done something? He doubted it. So what was it?

        His arm that was outstretched on the back of the couch behind you twitched a little. He moved to play with your hair but you stood up abruptly. "I gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back." 

        You sped off to the upstairs bathroom and looked in the mirror. Your internal battles were written all over your face. He had to know something was up. Actually, you knew he did, because he asked you what was wrong like three times before the movie began. Shit, what now?

        You took a breath and splashed some cold water over your face in efforts to ground yourself, patting it dry with a hand towel. Okay, (Y/N). It's time. Get over your fears and just make the move. As soon as you figure out what the move is, anyways.

        Maybe you could just kiss him and he'd initiate the rest. That's how it works in the movies sometimes, right? Right. Exactly. You got this. Just go down there, and kiss him. No questions asked.

        So, you marched down the stairs, strode to the couch, and froze, staring down at him with wide eyes as he sat there with a questioning gaze. Shit, what were you doing again?

        "Everything alright?" He finally broke the silence that was somehow louder than the audio from the movie.

        "What?" You asked, stunned, forgetting you had just stomped all the way down stairs and right over to him and then froze, blocking his view of the movie. "Oh, uh--"

        He stood up just then, piercing blue eyes beaming into you.

        "Y'gon' tell me what the hell's got your panties all in a wad or what?" He asked impatiently. "You're freakin' me out."

        "I am?" You mumbled. "I just.."

        Oh, screw it. You're backed into a corner, now. You only have one option. As quick as you could, you tippy-toed up and pecked him on the lips. You face turned red immediately. A small, amused smile crept up at the corners of his lips.

        "All that just to kiss me?" He chuckled. "Didn't have to dress up for that."

        "What? Uh -- Oh. Well, I.." You stumbled and tripped over your thoughts. It wasn't just to kiss him, and his reaction was not what you anticipated. Where was the movie moment? The fireworks and explosions? Wasn't he supposed to grab you by the cheeks and kiss you passionately and carry you to bed? What the hell?

        "Ya what? Were ya that nervous? Thought I'd bite or somethin'?" He joked.

        Bite? Is that a sex thing?

        It was all too much. You were in way over your head. You had no idea how this was supposed to work. You felt nauseous, your face was numb, and suddenly you felt it rising from your gut to your throat. Was it vomit? Yes, but not the material kind.

`        "Rosita said we should have sex!"You blurted, eyes wide like saucers as you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep anything else from escaping.

        Word vomit.

        Daryl was stunned completely. It took him a minute to process what you had said. He blinked.

        "Rosita said what?" He shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "Don't listen to that. Don't gotta do that  just 'cause she said. We can do that when ya want to, not when someone tells ya."

        He turned around and took his empty glass back to the kitchen, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. It was admittedly adorable that the thought of going to bed with him would mess you up so bad all night. 

        You were still frozen solid with your hand over your mouth as he grabbed the bottle of whisky. You dropped your hand to your side and looked around for your glass. You picked it up off the coffee table and gulped down the last half of it. Just as he was starting to pour is second serving, you spoke up.

        "I do want to."

        He paused, peering up at you through his eyelashes without actually moving his head up to show you his face. He set the bottle down and thought for a moment.

        "Uh, sex -- I mean." You clarified. Again, he tried not to laugh. There was no need for clarification. His deductive reasoning was very much adequate to handle such a statement.

        He shook his head and poured his glass before he walked back over to you.

        "Do ya now?" He asked quietly, eyeing you intensely as he took a swig. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Why did you feel so dry all of a sudden? He seemed to read your mind as he offered you a sip from his glass, which you gladly took.

        "I do." You said unsteadily, failing to feign confidence.

        "Ya sure?"

        "Why wouldn't I be?" You raised a brow, crossing your arms. He took the glass out of your hand and set it on the coffee table.

        "Ya been drinkin'."

        "I'm not drunk."

        "But it wasn't your idea to begin with." He pointed out. "Le'me ask ya.. If Rosita never said nothin', would ya even be considerin' this right now?"

        You didn't respond. He had a point.

        "Exactly." He confirmed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "We don't gotta rush into nothin' like that."

        "I've thought about it." You blurted. Blurting was quickly becoming a habit of yours, you were learning. You gulped.

        "Have ya now?" He smirked. He knew that already. Of course you did, just like he had plenty of times. You were both adults with desires. He wasn't blind to that.

        "Uh-huh." You nodded slowly. "Every time I--"

        Your hand slapped over your mouth again. What were you doing? Were you really about to admit that you fantasized about him every time you touched yourself?

        "Every time ya what?" He raised his eyebrows tauntingly. "Played with yourself? That's okay." He shrugged. "Everybody does that and if they say they don't, they're lyin'. What're you supposed to think about? Ya supposed to count the cracks in the ceilin' or somethin?"

        While he enjoyed the way you squirmed under the pressure of this conversation, he still wanted to make light of it. He joked to make it easier for you.

        "Do you think about it?" You asked quietly. His face lit up a little. It was much more amusing when the spotlight was on you. 

        "I mean," he shrugged. "What else would I think about?"

        You blushed. He thinks about you when he touches himself too?

        "I dunno.." You shrugged sheepishly. "I just..." You realized how foolish and childlike you must have looked to him right there. You straightened up and held your head high. "Well, I want to."

        "I don't think ya mean that."

        "I do." You insisted.

        He looked you over. He definitely wasn't opposed to the idea, but he was nervous. He had no idea what kind of experience a pretty girl like you would have over his drunken one nighters and failed attempts at relationships in the past. You never told him you were a virgin. After all, it never came up.

        "Okay." He nodded. "Wha'd'ya wanna do, then?"

        You faltered. What?

        "What?"

        "Wha'd'ya wanna do?" He asked again. 

        "Uh..." You glanced around the room. What did he mean? How many ways were there to... What? "I wanna... have.. sex?" You said, more as a question than a definitive. 

        "Uh-huh. But there's lots o' ways to have sex." 

        He plopped back down on the couch, glancing at the movie credits rolling behind you. He had a feeling you'd back out when you realized that you were in over your head.

        "Um, I want to..." You waded through the marshy wetland of thoughts and memories inside your head, trying to recall every piece of erotic information you had ever known. What was it Rosita had said? "Vanilla missionary?"

        He stifled a laugh. "Oh yeah? That's all?"

        Well, shit, man. What the hell else did he want from you?"

        "And..." You trailed off. 

        "Y'ain't ready for all that yet." He spoke up for you.

        "I am too!" 

        "No, y'ain't." He shook his head, still clearly amused.

        "I am! I just.... I need you to teach me." You said.

        "Teach ya what?"

        "I'm... I'm a virgin." You said just above a whisper. Wow, that was embarrassing to say out loud. He nearly choked. He was not expecting that. At least it meant you wouldn't have high expectations that he couldn't meet or something.

        "Really?" 

        "Yeah." You nodded. "But, I'm an adult and I know what I want. So, show me." You demanded.

----

        After a long battle to get him there, you finally had him in  your room. Both of you just standing there awkwardly in the dim light of a small lamp beside your bed.

        "So." You began.

        "Mm." He hummed, stepping closer to you, running a finger over your shoulder to brush  the hair off of it.

        "Do you... Wanna kiss me?" You asked. A small smile just barely spread on his lips. Of course he did. He just hoped he could make it as tender and special as you deserved.

        He leaned in slowly and brushed his lips against yours, hovering there for a moment before he connected with them fully. Slow, sweet rhythm was what he aimed for. He wasn't sure how he was doing, but when he went to pull back and you followed him like a magnet, he figured he was doing okay.

        He kissed you a little longer, hands resting gently on your sides to keep you steady as you swooned for him. If he hadn't been so sure he had to be the lead in this whole scenario, he would have melted into a puddle. Your lips were so soft, and you were just so damn sweet. He loved how eager you were for him. He just couldn't imagine taking advantage of you, which was why he made you walk in a straight line before he brought you up to your room. Just in case you had more to drink than he thought.

        When he pulled away for real this time, you were desperate for more.

        "Why'd you stop?" You pouted under your breath. He let out a soft chuckle.

        "All in time, darlin'." He said as he guided you back to the bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress and you sat down.

        "Now what?" You asked. He considered your question.

        "Lay down." He instructed softly.  You did. 

        He crawled over you. Your heart began to pound. Was this it?

        He leaned down into your neck and started planting small kisses along the length of it. You gasped quietly. It tickled in the best way. Your hands naturally gravitated to his chest, resting them against him. He trailed his lips down to your collarbone as his finger slid the spaghetti strap of your dress down over your shoulder to keep it out of the way. His kisses lined over your collarbone and all over your chest, at least the upper half. You laid your hands on his shoulders.

        He hadn't even touched you anywhere significant but your panties were absolutely soaked. Your eyelids fluttered a little. Why did this feel so good already?

        He went to tug your dress down to expose your breasts but he paused. He looked up at you. "This okay?" He whispered as his finger hooked the dress. You nodded. He slid it down and took a moment to admire the sight beneath him. You were braless. Your nipples hardened with the cold air. Goosebumps peppered over your supple flesh.

        He leaned down and went back to kissing softly around the mounds of breast, one hand gripping gently as he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked. You gasped audibly at the sensation, reminding him that he was doing things right. Your hips twitched as the sensitive nerves shot tingles all the way down to your your pussy. Your walls twitched.

        He worked his way to the other nipple, earning the same reaction. He bravely nibbled ever so gently on the second one, pulling the tiniest whine right out of your throat. He smirked a little. So reactive, you were. He almost felt guilty, like he was taking some kind of innocence away from you. Something you could never get back, not that you'd want to.

        His hands slid up your outer thighs. He looked at you again for permission. You nodded. He slid the dress up over your hips and started kissing and nibbling your inner thighs. You twitched and exhaled at the more sensitive spots, and when he got as close as he could to your panties without actually touching them, he pulled back and looked up at you. You were flushed and eager, and it was killing him inside. He smirked again and placed a quick little kiss over your panties, right where he guessed your clit would be. You gasped and jerked at the sudden pressure. He hooked his finger under the waistline of your jeans, again, glancing up at you for permission. You didn't nod this time.

        "Please.." You whispered. 

        He was on top of the world. Hell, he owned the universe. You were begging him for something he had dreamt of giving you.

        He slid your panties down your thighs and over your feet, tossing them to the side somewhere. He stared down at your glistening slit. You were already dripping.

        He traced a single finger over the front of your pelvis, feeling the smooth, freshly shaved skin beneath his callous.

        "Ya didn't have to shave for me." He whispered. You blushed.

        "I just--"

        "Shh. It's okay." He cooed, gently running that same finger down your slit with painful gentleness. Your mouth gaped immediately, eyebrows pressed together. You had touched yourself plenty, but it felt so different when he did it. So new. "All this for me?" He teased, holding up his finger coated in your wetness. You blushed again. He raised his finger to his mouth and sucked it clean. You watched, helplessly infatuated with the dreamy sight below. Dreamy. Were you dreaming?

        He lowered his face down, kissing softly over your lips before he finally swiped his tongue through your slit. You jerked and gasped, as you did for the next few seconds as he started to acclimate you to the sensation of his tongue.

        "Relax." She whispered. You gasped again when his tongue glided flatly over your cunt, but you let out a shaky exhale and did as he said. You relaxed. When he felt you melt down into the bed, that was when he really got to work, flicking his tongue over and around your clit until he found a rhythm that you responded to. Your breaths and inhales slowly blended into a pattern of moans and tiny whines. He had you now, exactly how he needed you. Comfortable in bliss.

        He slowed his pace then sped it up a few times, memorizing every reaction your body had to offer. When he stopped licking and started sucking on your clit, he slid a single finger inside you. If you were a virgin he was gonna have to loosen you up and get you ready. He wasn't one to gloat, but he was probably thicker than most, so he knew you'd need as much help as you could get.

        You let out a moan as his digit slid inside you. That paired with the ache in your clit as he sucked at it was giving you visions of stars.

        He got back to licking in little circles over your clit, slow at first, but then he sped up. He slipped another finger in, massaging your insides as your legs began to shake around his shoulders. 

        "Oh god."  You breathed. You felt a buzz in your lower half, a warm feeling building in your lower abdomen. You were getting close, and he could tell. He wanted to make you wait. He wanted you to be as eager for his cock as you were for his mouth. However, he wasn't entirely sure he'd last that long. You were so tight around his fingers, convulsing and pulsating, and he hadn't felt the inside of a woman in a long time.

        So, he took you all the way. He kept his pace with his tongue and fingers as he built you up, brick by brick, until you crumbled. It didn't take long at all. You shuddered and let out a loud moan, hips rocking against his face as you trembled and whined and rode out your orgasm. 

        It was more than you could have ever anticipated. Your fingers were nothing compared to what he had just done to you. You didn't think you'd ever recover.

        He slowed down, just barely gliding his tongue over your clit and twitching his fingers inside you to ensure you rode out the full length of your high, only pulling away and slipping out when he was sure you were overstimulated enough.

        Your chest was rising and dropping as you stared down at him and his wet mess of a chin. Your lids were heavy. He climbed back up to your face and planted a kiss on your forehead before he stood up off the bed and began to strip.

        Oh, right, the sex part. You had forgotten entirely. Your eyes fixated on the bulge under his boxers. They grew wide when he slid those off, too, and the sight of his bare cock hit you. It was long and thick, and you had no idea how you were going to take all that. He didn't expect you to, though. He'd try of course, but he'd be carefully monitoring for any signs of pain.

        When he climbed back on top of you, you stared up at him nervously. He leaned down and left little kisses along your jaw before finally resting his lips on yours. You ran your fingers through his hair as you kissed him back.

        "Ya still want this?" He mumbled against you.

        "Yes." You whispered. 

        He took your approval and looked down and guided his tip to your entrance. You bit your lip with anticipation when you felt the hard pressure of his head against you. He looked at you. You nodded. With that final gesture, he pushed the tip in. Your face contorted. He watched you as he pushed in a little more, and a little more, stopping when you whimpered.

        "Y'alright?"

        "Uh-huh." You squeaked.

        "Y'sure?"

        "Yeah. Keep going. I want you to." You insisted. Well, if you insisted.

        He pushed in further, achingly slow until he bottomed out. When the base of his shaft connected with your pelvis, your eyes widened. You let out a deep moan. Your own fingers could neve stretch you that way, could never reach that far inside you. It was an entirely new feeling. You couldn't tell how you liked it just yet.

        When you didn't protest, he pulled out and pumped back in, slowly at first, soft strokes, until your body relaxed and you were visibly acclimated. 

        When he was confident you could take it, that was when he sped up, fucking you harder and  faster by the minute. Your body tensed up around him. He could feel your walls clench and pulsate around his cock. He was starting to think you might cum again.

        He leaned into your ear.

        "Can ya cum again for me?"

        Your eyes glazed over, lids falling lazily over the majority of your vision. Between your moans and whimpering you managed to choke out the words; "I-- I think so.."

        "Mm." He growled lowly. You gripped his arms tightly, tuning out every thought as you pictured his cock pumping in and out of you, hitting that sensitive spot inside you that you had no idea existed until that moment. A familiar warmth washed over you. Tension in your stomach built and built, until finally.

        "Yes!" You gasped, as if answering his question again.

        "C'mon, girl.." He panted. He was also terrifyingly close, teetering on the edge. He only held back in hopes he'd squeeze another orgasm out of you first.

        A high pitched whine escaped you as your body buzzed, shivers crawling over you as you came. If your sounds weren't enough, he could feel the pulsation around his cock and he knew he was almost in the clear. He clenched his jaw, trying as hard as he could to hold it back while he fucked you through your climax. Eventually he just couldn't take it anymore. 

        He pulled out as fast as he could, groaning as he stroked and milked hot cum out onto your stomach. You were breathless and sex drunk as you laid limp on the bed, watching him. When he caught his breath, he leaned down and grabbed your panties. He used them to wipe you clean of your own juices and his, before doing the same for himself.

        "Ya gon' make it?" He teased you in your incapacitated state.

        "Yep." You said lazily. "'Cause I'm gonna need  more."

        He chuckled. "I need time to--"

        "I meant tomorrow. And the next day, and the next day." 

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[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself

[hidtired]

Masterlist

(Daryl Dixon x reader)

Series

A Single Punch 8.9k words [Finished]

Description: The line up ends with 3 supposed dead members of the group. Sometimes you have to know when to play dead. Even when all else goes to hell.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Unfortunate Timing 18.9k words [On going]

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon) [Pre apocalypse to Commonwealth]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, ect.

Oneshots

Count to 8 4.6k words

Description: The Prison was destroyed and your family lost. Leaving you alone and with less fingers then you started with. You were known to be a gentle being. You were sorely unaware of what you were capable of.

Poison For Some 5.9k words

Description: Your deathly allergic to nuts and dinner in the prison leaves you running for medicine. Your abrupt departure confuses everyone, until your partner Daryl remembers of your allergies. Now it was 24 hours and you were no where to be found.

Love Burns 6.1k words

Description: Some way somehow you crawled your way back from death. All to get back into the arms of one man. Daryl and the rest of the group were taking your death hard, your death was gruesome. So your disheveled arrival back to them was unfathomable…

Coincidence or Fate [Up coming]

Description: You meet Daryl in the woods. He was looking for his brother after the bridge. 5 years into your relationship you vanished from thin air only leaving a arrow pointed up carved into a tree. You had got caught into a community called the CRM. That is where you met the fabled Rick Grimes. Will you ever get home?

Requested

Unspoken Things 1.3k words

Description: Words never came easy to Daryl. After the loss of the prison and finding Alexandria however, he just couldn’t stop them.

Hangman 4.9k words [Finished]

Description: Y/N Dixon was to be punished for her husbands actions at the line up. Negan decided to do it in style. To have a rope looped for your neck, intended for your death. Daryl watches you hang before being dragged away. But you had still been alive by the time you were cut down.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Miles Away 6.2k words

Description: A last minute trip leaves you separated from your fiancé when the world ends. Years of travel inevitably returns you to him. But years out in the world causes change.

[chelseypprimrose]

Home Movie / Negan x Reader / S7 / 18+

Warnings: daddy kink, oral, unprotected/rough sex, slight dom!negan, talk of masturbation, Negan references himself as “the big bad wolf” (cringe but I love it), creampie, forbidden attraction, talk of voyerism, use of derogatory language, glove/leather kink (slightly)

Summary: Negan finds a smut tape of you on the video camera at Alexandria and makes it his mission to seek you out.

A/N: I got this idea in my head while I was watching the episode of season 7 where the saviours first visit Alexandria with Negan and he finds Rick’s confessional video as he’s emptying the houses out. also inspired by another Negan series called Polaroids by @reevesdriver on here as it’s one of my faves ever! 🫶🏼 I just had to write a Negan imagine in the TWD universe again bc as much as I like pre apocalypse Negan, I needed to write apocalypse Negan because there isn’t anything sexier to me than a murderous man swinging a barbed wire bat and talking about his dick, hope u enjoy 🤍 x

“Goddamn it.” You huffed out, a long breath leaving your lips as you shoved the deer that was on your shoulders further up to prevent yourself from dropping it on the ground. You’d been gone since the crack of dawn, with Daryl gone at this point in time, you were one of the best hunters that Alexandria still had. While you felt some type of way about putting in so much effort for someone else to just take the shit you’d risked your life for, you knew Rick needed people on his side at the moment. It would be foolish to try and be defiant right now, too much blood had been spilt recently and you didn’t want to be the reason it continued. Yeah, you’d played your part in the attack on the outpost but you’d all been in acceptance that it was just that outpost. That once that was cleared, you were rid of the foreboding threat that was the Saviours. How wrong you’d been in that moment, it was only the beginning.

You were now dealing with the aftermath of Negan, having to risk life and limb, bend over backwards to make him happy, the asshole. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d had to hold your tongue to stop yourself from verbally berating his people, knowing what the consequences of giving them a piece of your mind would be. You hadn’t been there when he had killed Abe and Glenn, only hearing the horrid, sordid details after the fact.

The blood from the deer that you’d managed to kill was seeping into your white tee, making your shoulders feel sticky and matting up in the tips of your hair. You signalled a high pitched whistle, waiting for the large dark beige gate to be opened, allowing you enter back into Alexandria. Your eyes found the large sign, “Alexandria Safe Zone: Mercy for the Lost. Vengeance for the Plunderers.” You scoffed, how fucking ironic. The gate began to be moved, revealing three large vans parked up just a couple feet away from the entrance, the Saviour vans. “For fuck sake.” You thought, what could that bastard want with you now, you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous.

“Negan, you’ll want to see this.” Negan turned to look at the saviour approaching him, holding out a small silver video recorder. “Well, what do we have here Grimes? Got my fingers crossed for a little freaky deaky!” He grinned, crossing his fingers in front of Rick’s face. He slid his hand into the leather handle of the camera, a video of Rick coming into view, looking a lot more threatening than he did now. He could barely make out it was Rick, with the massive beard grown on his face he wasn’t used to seeing. “Woah! Is that you? Underneath all that man bush? Holy shit, I would have not of messed with that guy… but you aren’t that guy anymore. Are you Rick?” He grinned, Rick stood with a stern look on his face, not moving. Negan continued to watch the interview, Rick speaking candidly about the amount of people that he’d killed. The video started to go static, indicating there was a tape that had been recorded on top of the original. Negan’s eyebrows furred in confusion, before his eyes widened at what the camera had blessed his eyes with. He watched as you were stood in-front of the camera, a light pink lace open cut babydoll set on, your breast sat in the cups, nipples on show for the camera. You started posing for the camera, running your hands through your hair, holding it up Pam Anderson style. A large sexy smile on your lips, turning to do a 180 spin, your smooth backside coming into view for the camera, Negan pulling the camera closer to his face, almost not believing what he was seeing. He didn’t recognise you, maybe it had been someone that used to be in Alexandria, wasn’t a member anymore. He growled lowly, that would be just his luck, the sexiest woman he’d seen in recent history just missed by a couple weeks. He moved his attention back to the camera, now watching you spread out on the bed, playing with your nipples while starting to rub your folds underneath your panties before the camera cut out, showing Rick’s interview once again.

“Fuck! Just when it was getting good!” He cursed, snapping the cameras screen back into place. A fire now in his stomach, his jeans now contracting around his hard bulge. He couldn’t get you out his mind, he knew he’d remember if he’d come across you before, so who the hell were you?

You’d managed to get the deer half way back to your house before being stopped by one of Negan’s minions, asking what you were doing. You ignored him, just wanting to get back, the saviour hadn’t liked that, grabbing you by the waist, dragging you towards the circle of people that were gathered around one of the vans. You could hear Rick talking about some guns that he’d found, apparently Negan thought you were trying to stash items, to prevent having to hand them over to his people.

“Negan. Got a rude bitch here for you, was about to run home, sneak this thing back with her.” You slightly rolled your eyes. “How am I meant to sneak a deer back, smartass?” You questioned, not believing someone could be so stupid. The man’s face contorted into a rage fuelled look, his hand raising up to you, before he had the chance, Negan whistled. “Hey! We don’t raise a hand to a woman, you know the fucking rules.” He stepped forward, now coming into full view of you, his eyes glancing over your body, looking like a kid on Christmas. You were still here, he couldn’t believe his luck. Lucille sat on his shoulder, his one gloved hand wrapped tightly around the bottom of the wood. “Now I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Negan.” He smirked, holding his free hand out for a handshake, his large frame towering slightly over you. You were met with a slight musk, you recognised it as an old spice fragrance, masculine and powerful. You looked at it, questionable look on your face before your hand met his, engulfing you from the size of it. His rough skin a stark contrast from the softness of yours, the movement felt foreign, you shouldn’t feel this way, especially when it’s him.

You saw Rick tensing up as he watched on from the sideline, wondering what Negan was up to, showing such civilness to you. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Y/N.” You stated, his smirk getting wider. “Sir? Oh, you my dear, are like the gift that keeps on damn giving!” He exclaimed, bewilderment sitting on the faces of those around you and yourself. What the hell did he mean by that? “Load em up, we’re leaving.” He commanded, the saviours starting to retreat back to their vans, Negan not moving from where he was stood.

A few of the Alexandrian’s moved away as well, not wanting to be in his presence for a moment longer than they were required to. “Now doll, take that damn thing off your shoulders, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” You reluctantly agreed, placing the deer just behind you, before Negan nodded at two remaining men, them coming behind you to take your prized find. You scowled, fury raging inside your soul, you’d risked your life trying to get just one actual nice, fulfilling meal for everyone, just to have your hard work stolen off you. “I believe that’s mine.” You spat out, the fire showing from your eyes as you glared up at him. “What’s yours is now ours doll, or hasn’t Rick drilled that into you yet?” He asked, aware of the sexual innuendo of his words, his tongue rolling across his lower lip. You huffed, knowing if you talked back further, it wasn’t going to end well for you. You felt like you were tasting blood from how hard you bit down on your tongue, fists balled up.

Negan walked over slightly to the back of the last truck, the doors open, a load of stuff that you recognised from peoples homes in the compound. Picking something up, he walked back over to you, Lucille still sat on his shoulder. You saw the small video camera, not thinking much of it, not knowing there was a tape inside that you probably would have never wanted him to see. He placed it on your chest, it digging into your skin, sat just on top of your heaving breasts.

“You should be careful with such sensitive material, never know what kind of perverts going to come across it!” He joked, your eyes widening in embarrassment as you finally understood what he was talking about. You got a look of disgust rise on your face, you couldn’t believe he’d seen such an intimate piece of film. You went to grab the camera from him before he gripped tight on it, making it harder to move. “Now doll, it’s a good job I found this before any of my men did, you know that right? They would have taken this back with them and sat around in a circle jerk together, I however am returning this to you, soooo… How about a thank you, Negan?” He demanded playfully, leaning closer to your face, nose almost touching your cheek. You gulped shallowly, your hand moving over his that was holding the camera to your chest. “Thank you, Negan.” You managed to get out, the words tasting like poison to you.

He laughed, letting go of the camera, allowing you take it back with a yank. “You are more than welcome, baby. Also, in case you were wondering, you are most definitely my favourite Alexandrian now.” He winked, walking backwards before getting in the truck, holding his head out the window, giving a small wave to you as they drove out the front gates. You huffed, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you held in your throat.

It had now been a couple weeks since Negan’s last visit, he’d sent groups of his saviours in between but never actually visiting himself. You were thankful that this had been the case, you’d found yourself thinking about what could have been. You’d began to let your mind wonder to the scenario of meeting Negan in another situation, you couldn’t help but be attracted to him. He was one of the most attractive men you’d ever come across, it was just a shame he was also the most evil men you’d ever come across.

Unbeknown to you, he’d found himself thinking about you too, that fucking video. He’d managed to score some old age dvd porno films from supply runs over the years but he couldn’t even watch them to get off anymore, only thinking of your little smut tape. It wasn’t even like you’d done anything massively explicit on the tape, it shutting off before it managed to get that far but he had concluded that was probably worse. It allowed his mind to run at all the different possibilities, what did you sound like when you moaned, what would you sound like whimpering out his name as he was filling you up? What did you look like when you reached climax? All these unanswered questions racing through his mind as he got out his sexual frustration on his wives, not caring which one it was as all he pictured below him was you. Moaning out your name instead of theirs, the women not caring that much as they were only there to be used by him, no affectionate feelings connecting them to him.

You were currently in the garage, clipboard in hand, biting on the end of your pencil in anxiousness as you went over inventory. You were expecting another visit today, making you want to double check over everything to make sure there wasn’t any discrepancies in the numbers. That was the last thing you needed, especially since you were now actively trying to get plans in place to take the fight back to the Saviours. You were just finishing up when a loud knock startled you, the garage door vibrating at the motion. You put the clipboard down on the side, bending down to pull the door up.

“Well well well! If it isn’t my favourite Alexandrian. I’ve missed you, doll.” It was Negan, that signature grin on his face once again, eyes raking over your body. You felt sheepish under his wandering eyes, now knowing he’d practically seen you naked since he’d come across that video of yours. You sighed, hands resting on your hips. “What do you need, Negan?” You asked, him walking into the garage now, the door slamming back shut. The anxiety started to kick in as you were now alone with just him, as he looked over the shelves, picking up random items and studying them. “Nothing really, just wanted to see your pretty face. I just cannot stop thinking about you, doll! I wonder why that is, huh?” He laughed, you knowing what he was alluding to. He noticed how you crossed your hands over your chest, almost trying to shield yourself from him.

“Oh no no no! There’s no need for all that, I’ve seen those pretty babies already, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of, doll.” He sauntered over to you, towering over you again like last time, practically feeling the heat from his body on yours. You couldn’t take your eyes off his, the way he looked at you making you get slick. He wasn’t one to hide his true emotion, his jeans getting tighter as he imagined you as he saw in the video, putting on a little private show for him. “I’ve gotta know, what made you film something like that? You must of known someone could come across it, why take the risk?” He questioned you, hand coming to rub over his bearded chin. “In this world, there’s not much opportunity to feel sexy. I just wanted something to look back at when I felt down about myself.” You squeaked out, feeling very intimate. Here you were telling the leader of a rival camp your biggest insecurities, possibly giving him ammunition to further torment you and your people.

“Oh doll, you could be covered in damn walker guts, and I’d still think you were the sexiest thing on this damn shithole planet.” He purred, grabbing you slightly by the chin, making you smile slightly. You shook your head, pulling yourself out of his grasp. “What are you doing Negan? We can’t be thinking like this. I can’t be thinking like this. You… you are the enemy.” Your hands resting on the lapels of his leather jacket, the slight coldness of it sending shivers down your spine. You leaned dangerously close to Negan’s lips, his beard scratching the surface of your skin. “Rick would fucking kill me, he’d fucking kill me, if he knew I think about you the way I do. Think about you when I touch myself, wishing it was you.” You whispered, getting more confident in your tone, your eyes staring at his lips, then back up to his dark eyes, your lips partially open as you let out shallow breaths, anything you could to try and lower your heart rate that was pumping under your chest. The silence in the room was deafening, you started to get nervous again, like you were just waiting for him to recoil away from you and laugh at your confession, that this had all been a massive joke to humiliate you further. “Goddamn it doll, looks like great minds think alike because I’ve been doing the same damn thing since I saw that little treat on that fucking camera.” He chuckled, picking you up in one swift movement, placing you on top of the workplace bench.

“Did you think about me claiming your pussy, doll? Fucking you until you can barely remember your goddamn name? What would Ricky say if he saw you submitting yourself so easily to me, the big bad wolf?” The dark tenor of Negan’s voice caused you to whimper in half fear, half pleasure. You could tell his personality was darkening to the more intense side, the jolly joking and fucking about traits were completely absent. You didn’t feel terrified though, like you did when he committed some of the horrific atrocities in front of you, the feelings of excitement causing your hairs to stand on edge and your pussy getting wet with every word that spilled out of his mouth.

“I did, god I want you inside of me.” You confessed, as Negan’s hands ghosted over your cleavage that was exposed by your tank top, before he pulled it over your head, your breasts spilling out of your lace bra. He shoved his gloved hand into your mouth, commanding you to suck. You obliged, your hands holding his arm in place as you swirled your tongue around the two thick fingers, head bobbing up and down as you did. The leather of the glove rubbery on your tongue, causing you to moan onto his fingers.

He grinned at you, a deep grunt as he leaned over capturing your right nipple into his mouth, suckling it, swirling his tongue around and biting it with his teeth causing you to moan and pull his head against your chest as you kept sucking hard on his fingers. He did it again, giving you light bites and licks, alternating between your two erect nubs. Negan removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop, bring them down to give one final pinch to your nipples, the wetness of his one hand causing the cold air to make your nipple more sensitive.

“Get on your knees, I want to see your mouth full of my dick, doll.” Negan grinned with a wicked smile, his hands undoing his jeans, letting them fall to pool at his boots. You felt your mouth salivate, eager to take him as slid off the table onto your knees. You started to lick him, going from bottom to top slowly, teasing him like he did to you with his dirty sweet nothings in your ears, hearing his low groans. You sucked the precum from his tip and swirled your tongue under his head, and then looked up at him, making sure you held eye contact with him, opening your mouth and taking him in little by little, bobbing your head up and down. Your mouth was being stretched wide, you started to move a little faster, sucking him, licking him, taking him deeper and deeper until you felt him in your throat. He was big, causing you to gag a little as your eyes began to water, your throat starting to get a sore feeling within it as he fucked your throat at a quick pace. He gave a slight gasp and his hand took a firm hold of your head keeping you in place, as his hips bucked, making it his mission to get as far down your throat as possible.

“I need to fuck you now, doll. Get up here.” Negan pulled back to your feet, slamming you stomach down onto the table, almost ripping your jeans as he pulled them down your thighs, your moist panties now on show, one tug and the flimsy material broke in two halves, now fully exposing your slick entrance to Negan. He rubbed his dick up and down your slit eliciting a pleasurable moan from both of you, pushing his length inside and then pulling out and rubbing it down your slit again.

“Please... Negan! Please!” You whimpered out, pinching your nipples, trying to get some relief from his teasing. He smirked down at you, that dark gaze watching your every move. “Please what? I want to hear you saying you want daddy's dick. I want to hear you beg me. Come on little girl, say it.” he demanded as he rubbed his length along your wet slit. “Please daddy! I want you deep inside me, please fuck me!” He groaned and pushed himself hard inside your walls, with no hesitations. You screamed, even being sopping wet, you were too tight around his shaft. He leaned on top of you and started to kissing your neck, biting lightly. Negan felt you getting used to his girth, you started to move your hips against him, wanting friction. He started to thrust in slowly, checking for your reaction to his movements. “I'm fine, please, fuck me daddy!” You moaned out, Negan pulling almost all the way out of you and then thrusting in hard making you gasp.

“You're loving this doll, aren’t you? Yeah, you're loving having my dick inside of you. I’d love good old Rick to walk in right now, see you bent over for the big bad wolf.” he chuckled, turning you on even more. Thrusting again and again building up speed, going faster and harder, just like you had imagined he would in your dirty dreams, but so much better than your imagination. “I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and you are going to thank me for it.” He whispered in your ear, pulling your hair with one hand and holding your hips firmly with the other as he snapped his groin into you, making your ass ripple with the powerful movements. “I want to hear you doll, thank me.” You almost rolled your eyes at the narcissistic request but your brain was too blank to comprehend it. “Thank you, thank you Negan!”

You focused on the obscene sounds of your bodies echoing around you, amplified by how small the garage was. Negan continued fucking you rough and hard, until you felt the orgasm surging inside of you, building fast and strong. When it finally hit you, you screamed with the intensity of it, your body shook with the pleasure waves, running through your core. Negan released your hair to hold your hips so he could keep fucking you. His thrusts shortened, you clenched around his length, a groan leaving his mouth, feeling him finally release just after you. Negan pulled himself out of you, watching as his cum spilled out of your hole, dripping slightly onto the concrete floor below you. He leaned on top of you, leaving small kisses on your spine, body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“Y/N! We need you out here! Negan is on his way!” You turned to Negan, a confused look on your face, he’d snuck into the compound to fuck you and now you had to act like he wasn’t even here.

[lanadelnegan]

Video Games

Pre-apocalypse!Negan x Reader

Song inspo: Video Games by Lana Del Rey

Summary: Negan's girlfriend, (y/n), distracts him while he's playing video games with his online buddies.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral (male-receiving), a short one-shot of blowing Negan while he's playing his game ;)

"Negan! Come eat!" I call for the second time.

"Take that, you sorry shits!" Negan yells back at his TV screen, ignoring me in the process. That ass, I know he can hear me.

I sigh with frustration. The only negative thing about dating that man is his video game addiction.

I stomp into his man cave with my hand on my hip and stare at him with annoyance. "Negan."

"Baby. Hold on, I'm about to win." He whispers while holding his hand over his headset.

"Who are you even playing with?"

"I dunno. Some teenagers." He shrugs.

He goes back to his game. "OH, you son of a bitch."

While he's staring intensely at his game, I'm staring intensely at him. The black tank top he's wearing allows me to admire how his arm muscles flex when he uses his skilled fingers to press buttons on the controller.

Do all men play video games in their boxers? Because this should be a sin. He looks so.. yummy.

I sigh, taking the hair tie off my wrist and tying my hair back.

If he won't pay attention to me, I'll make him.

I walk over to him and get on my knees in front of him, spreading his legs. He leans back a little and widens his eyes, finally looking at me. He puts his hand back over the headset. "Baby, what are you doing?"

"Shhh, play your game." I grin and push on his stomach for him to lean back further. His jaw drops slightly open as he realizes what's about to happen, but he listens and leans back in his chair.

"Watch the screen Negan, not me." I pull his semi-hard cock out of the slit in his boxers, stroking it a couple times before it turns to steel in my hand. How can a man this handsome also have such a big cock? And how did I get so lucky?

Negan tries to focus on his game but stops to watch me lick him from the base to the tip. I watch him watch me and moan at how good he tastes.

"Fuck, baby." He groans.

"What the - bro, did you just moan?" A high-pitched male voice laughs from the other end of the headset.

"What? No." Negan snaps annoyed at him and glances at me again as I take him completely in my mouth. He bites his bottom lip in attempt to be quiet.

I take him as deep as I can and look up at him with lust-filled eyes to see his reaction. His head is leaned back and his mouth is slightly dropped open.

"Negan! Dude, you coming?" I hear a different voice this time.

"Almost... I mean, yeah. Right behind you."

I smile with his cock in my mouth and continue to suck him harder and faster.

"Fuck." He jerks the headset off and tosses it to the side after muting it. "My dirty fucking girl." He grips my ponytail and pushes my head down further, making my eyes water.

"You want my cum, baby?" His voice is deep and raspy and it makes me clench my legs together. I nod my head and try to focus on not gagging.

"Fuuuck, y/n." He lets out a string of the sexiest moans I've ever heard a man make before shooting his load in my mouth. It's so much that a little bit drips from the corner of my mouth as I attempt to swallow it all down.

"Goddamn, baby. Come here." I look up at him and leans down to me. He wipes the cum dripping from my mouth with his thumb and pushes it back into my mouth. "Good girl." He kisses me sweetly and I stand up, noticing his screen.

"You happy now, baby? You made me die." He teases, nodding to the the TV.

I shrug, walking away. "Maybe next time you'll come when I call you."

[pedroscurls]

Title: One Drunken Night (Part 8.)

CHAPTER TITLE: Hello Again

Character(s): Negan (pre-apocalypse), Joel Miller (pre-apocalypse, au), and Reader (third-person POV) Summary: Three years have passed and everything seems to now be falling into place in Reader’s life. Until a familiar face shows up in the most unexpected of places. Word Count: 5,020 Author's Note: Did a bit of a time jump in this chapter to kickstart what’s to come... (also that gif of Pedro Pascal, just ugh) Warning: SMUT (w/ Joel); Negan being an asshole/language; mentions of premature labor 

(GIF source: @loregifs, @jdmorganz)

Three years later…

Joel was standing behind her, peppering kisses along her shoulder. It had been three years since they decided to become a couple and everyday, he felt so lucky. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.

“Mmm… We’re gonna be late,” she smiled, tilting her head to expose more of her neck as his lips brushed against her hot spots, causing a whimper to escape her lips. Three years and they still couldn’t get enough of each other.

“I’m just so proud of you, darlin’.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Joel smiled, pulling back to turn her around to face him. “I think you would’ve done just fine without me.”

“I’d rather not think about that life,” she teased. “You think tonight will go okay?”

Joel cupped her cheeks, looking into her eyes. “It’ll be great. You worked so hard and you finally made it happen. Your own art show, darlin’.”

Before she could reply, they heard the sounds of quiet footsteps enter the room and the little girl was holding her stuffed bear, tucked underneath her arm.

“Mama!” The little girl grinned, her dimples immediately showing. The little girl had equal traits from her mother and from Negan. While her smile resembled Negan’s, her big eyes resembled her mother’s. Big, curious, warm, and inviting.

“Hey, sweetpea.” She smiled, scooping the little girl in her arms. The little girl rested her head against her mother’s shoulder as she looked over at Joel. 

“Hey babygirl,” Joel leaned over to kiss the girl’s forehead, brushing her dark locks away from her face. “You excited to spend the night with Uncle Tommy?”

The little girl nodded rapidly, excitement filling her eyes. “Yup! I got my jammies.”

“You going to be a good girl?” Y/N asked, tickling her sides as the little girl’s laughter filled the room.

“I always am!” 

“I beg to differ,” Joel snickered. “You can be naughty sometimes, babygirl.”

The little girl huffed, hugging her bear closer to her chest. “No.”

Before Joel could reply, there was the sound of a knock. The little girl grinned, squirming against her mother’s arms as she let her down. 

“Uncle Tommy!” The little girl ran out of the room, giggling to herself.

Joel looked over at her lovingly which Y/N caught onto immediately. She stepped up to him and pressed a hand to his chest. 

“I think she likes Tommy more than she likes me,” she teased, feigning a pout.

“You might be right,” Joel teased, causing Y/N to gently smack his arm. “I’m teasin’.”

“You better or else you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” 

Joel smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss onto her lips as his hand drifted down to grasp her backside. “I don’t mind,” he whispered huskily. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

Joel chuckled, pulling back as he pointed towards the door. “We probably should get that since she’s gonna try to open that door.”

Y/N smiled and nodded in agreement. Once they reached the front door, they saw the little girl standing on her tippy toes, trying to reach for the doorknob but failing. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Joel called out, causing the little girl to whip her head in his direction. He flashed her a wink and picked her up into his arms, peppering kisses along her face as her giggles engulfed them once more. 

Y/N watched them with loving eyes. She had never thought she would be in this position, but the universe worked in mysterious ways and she wouldn’t have it any other way than this. She opened the door, seeing Tommy on the other side with a grin on his face.

“Where’s my favorite girl?”

“Me! Right here!” The little girl managed to say between giggles, gently pushing against Joel’s face as she tried to reach out for Tommy.

Y/N handed Tommy the little girl’s backpack, making sure that everything she needed was packed. She looked worried, concerned, but Tommy gently rested a hand on her shoulder and she felt herself relax. The Miller brothers had been a godsend in her life and while she was head over heels over Joel, she was just glad Tommy had turned his life around, especially with Maria by his side.

“She’ll be okay. I promise.” Tommy said.

“I know, I know. It’s just–”

“Will it help if I call you every hour?” he teased.

“Yes,” she replied all too quickly. Tommy arched his brow and then let out a quiet chuckle. “I trust you, Tommy. I’m just– She’s my little girl.”

“It’s for one night. If you find that you miss her too much after your show and you wanna pick her up, you’re more than welcome to.”

“Thank you.” She sighed, looking over at Joel and her little girl as they both were talking amongst each other in a way where she couldn’t understand. While she had a special relationship with her daughter, so did Joel. “We owe you… And Maria.”

“Don’t sweat it. We’re happy to look after this little one.” Tommy then took the little girl in his arms, feeling her snuggle immediately against him. “We gonna have fun, right?”

The little girl nodded excitedly. “Right!” 

Y/N and Joel smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Once they pulled away, the little girl looked up at them and smiled, her dimples once more showing itself. 

“Wuv you,” she said. “A wot.”

Y/N felt her heart melt, running her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “You be good for Uncle Tommy and Maria, okay?” 

She nodded. “Yes, mama.” 

“We’ll see you tomorrow, babygirl.” Joel added, kissing her forehead. “Love you lots.”

“Wuv you forever,” she replied almost instantly. 

“Alright, alright. This little lady and I are going to head out and eat lots of sugar,” he teased. “You two have fun and congratulations again. You deserve it,” he added, looking over in Y/N’s direction.

Once they left, Y/N turned to Joel and sighed. “I miss her already.”

He chuckled, pulling her into his arms. “She’s in good hands.”

“I know.”

“Tonight’s about you, darlin’. Let’s get going.”

About thirty minutes later, Joel and Y/N entered the art gallery. There were plenty of people already in attendance and she noticed the array of photographs she had taken that was now being displayed for the guests to look at, to admire, and to critique. 

Though, it didn’t matter. 

Her collection was all about her daughter, Mila. 

—

Three years earlier…

“Joel… Joel.” Y/N called out, tapping his foot after she used the bathroom. She was about six weeks away from her due date, but she felt something was wrong. Something was different. There was pain radiating through her body and it wasn’t until she let out a scream of pain that Joel awoke with wide eyes.

“Darlin’? What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, she looked down at the pool of water surrounding her. “My water just broke. Joel… My water just broke! It’s too early.” 

“Okay, okay, calm down, darlin’. It’ll be–”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Joel!” She screamed in pain again, gripping the edge of the bed frame as she hunched over in pain. 

He nodded immediately and pulled on a pair of pants and a dark t-shirt, not bothering to fix it once he noticed it was inside out. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

She nodded, leaning against him and gripping onto his arm with a tight grip that even Joel winced. Once he led her inside his car, he took a deep breath and walked around to the driver’s side. He climbed inside and leaned over to kiss her cheek. 

“It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. She’ll be okay,” Joel repeated, trying to reassure her and also himself.

Eight hours had passed and the sound of her daughter’s cries filtered the room. Y/N was drenched in sweat and she was exhausted, but once she heard her baby’s cry, she felt overcome with emotions. 

Joel, on the other hand, had been by her side through it all. He kept a hold on her hand as she pushed, whispered sweet encouragements, and even wiped at her brow. He wanted her to know that he was here, he was all in, like he had told her so many months ago.

Joel had cut the umbilical cord and smiled at the sight of the newborn. She had thick, dark hair and long eyelashes that sat perfectly against her full cheeks. He even noticed the dimples that were very noticeable and realized that she must have gotten that from Negan. 

However, before Y/N could ask to see her daughter, they had wheeled her away which caused her to look at the main doctor with worried eyes.

“W–Where are they taking her? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

The doctor instead just let a small smile line her lips. “She’s about six weeks early, so it’s just standard protocol that we make sure she is okay and healthy.”

“But–”

“We’re just going to run some tests, make sure that everything is okay before we bring her by. I assure you that once we finish, we will let you know. For now, get some rest, Mama.” The doctor smiled reassuringly. “You did amazing, congratulations.”

Once the doctor left, Joel sighed and glanced at the door before turning his attention to her. He noticed her big eyes, filled with tears and visibly concerned. 

“You did great, darlin’.” He whispered, pecking her lips to try and get her to relax, to rest. 

“Joel… I’m scared. Is she–”

“She’ll be okay.” Joel reassured her. “Try and rest, okay? I’ll wake ya up once the nurses come back.”

She wanted to argue, to tell him that she was fine, but exhaustion had caught up to her and she shut her eyes almost instantly. 

It had been a couple of hours before Y/N awoke. She looked around and noticed Joel sitting in a chair next to her bed. Just as she was going to call out his name, a nurse walks in followed by another who was rolling in an incubator with a baby inside. 

“Joel…”

He immediately stood up, taking her hand into his and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Is she okay?”

The nurse didn’t answer the question, but instead replied, “She’s having difficulty breathing on her own, so we’re monitoring her and ensuring that she gets the oxygen she needs to help her.”

Y/N bit her lower lip, sitting up in her bed and looking over at the nurses. “Is she going to be okay?”

“We’re monitoring her, but she’s doing great.” The nurse replied, helping her sit up. “We thought you might want to see her… She’s got beautiful big eyes and her dimples are very cute.”

Y/N felt tears sting her eyes once she looked over at the little girl in the incubator. She was sleeping peacefully and if it weren’t for the incubator, she would have assumed that the little girl was healthy and okay. 

“Is she in any pain?” Joel asked. 

The nurses shook their heads. “The oxygen is helping her, so she’s okay.”

“Do you want to name her?” One of the nurses asked.

Y/N hesitated, slowly shaking her head, catching Joel by surprise. “Not yet…” She didn’t want to name her yet, afraid that something would happen.

“That’s okay. Once you figure out a name, you can let us know.” 

The girl stretched in the incubator and slowly fluttered her eyes open. Y/N looked down at her and smiled, feeling tears sting her eyes. Joel on the other hand was enamored with the little girl already. He noticed the dimples and when her eyes opened, all he could think about was Y/N. Big, beautiful eyes. 

“She’s got your eyes,” he said aloud. 

Y/N blushed, taking his hand in hers. “She’s– She’s amazing.”

They stayed in the neonatal intensive care unit for the next month as the nurses monitored the little girl’s breathing. Y/N had decided to document their journey, taking a variety of photographs of the little girl who had been in an incubator. 

There had been times where her oxygen levels were too low, even with the help of the oxygen tank and it had terrified Joel and Y/N. She still didn’t have a name, but when the little girl was finally healthy enough to be released, for Y/N and Joel to finally hold her, she knew what her name would be.

Y/N was sitting down in a chair before a nurse picked up the newborn who was swaddled in pink. The nurse gently handed the little girl to Y/N and she cradled the back of her head and neck as she held her daughter against her for the first time.

The little girl snuggled against Y/N and she felt tears stinging her eyes. Joel was standing next to her, watching the little girl closely. 

“Do we have a name for this little warrior?” The nurse asked, smiling.

“She does…” Y/N smiled. “Mila… For miracle.”

Joel grinned. “That’s perfect.”

—

“Look at all these photographs,” Joel marveled, looking at the displayed photographs of Mila. It felt like yesterday when she was born and despite the very turbulent beginning, she had been otherwise healthy. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Y/N smiled.

“Takes after her mother,” Joel winked.

“It still makes me emotional,” she admitted. “We could have lost her.”

“But we didn’t.”

She nodded, leaning up to peck his lips. “I can’t believe I have my own art show.”

“Well deserved, darlin’.” Joel pecked her lips and then motioned to the art curator who was motioning for Y/N to walk over in his direction. “Duty calls, baby.”

“Will you be okay? I know this isn’t what you’re used to and–”

“This art collection is of our babygirl, darlin’. I’ll be fine.” 

Y/N nodded, giving him one last kiss before she walked over to talk with the curator. He raved on and on about how so many people had already shown interest and how they want to extend her showing for another two weeks. It had resonated with plenty of mothers because while the collection was solely focused on Mila, it also showed the juxtaposition of motherhood. 

“Congratulations,” the curator smiled, clinking his glass of wine with hers. 

“Thanks, Jack. I still can’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it. You deserve it. Great job. Now, go out and mingle. Tonight’s your night.” He winked, giving her a tight hug and walking away from her.

Y/N looked around the gallery, noticing at how crowded it was and she smiled to herself. She had done it. A successful art show. She scanned the crowd and smiled when she met eyes with Joel. She downed her glass of wine and set it on a table, walking over to him as she was stopped by a few people to extend their congratulations and express how amazing her work was. 

Finally, she had reached Joel and he was looking down at her with an amused look. “You’re popular.”

“I know, I kind of don’t like it,” she laughed. “I was thinking…”

“Hm?” Joel arched a brow, running a hand through his hair as he felt her fingers dance along the buttons of his shirt. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, darlin’?”

Maybe it was the fact that she felt so happy or maybe it was the effects of alcohol, but she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Think maybe we can do a quickie?”

Joel grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Here?” 

“Well, not here here. But the bathroom, maybe.” 

“Mmm, let’s go.” 

Y/N bit her lower lip and took his hand, leading him through the crowd. Once in the single bathroom, Y/N locked it behind her and looked over at Joel. There was a primal look in her eyes and it got him excited. He reached down to press against his front, grunting at the pressure.

“Joel, take me. Please.”

Joel growled, picking her up to set her against the sink. Luckily for him, she was wearing a dress so he had bunched up the fabric to rest around her hips as he pulled down her panties. “I think I’m gonna keep these for the rest of the night.” He winked, pocketing her panties.

“Joel, fuck me.” 

He grunted, running two of his fingertips along her slick heat. She let out a quiet moan, moving her hands to grasp at the edges of the sink. “Wet for me already?”

“Always wet for you,” she corrected.

Joel smiled, “Attagirl.” He undid the buckle on his belt and the button at the top of his jeans. Unzipping his pants quickly, he pushed them down with his boxers and grasped his member in his hand. He stroked himself, his eyes focused on her wet heat.

“Joel…” She pleaded. “Please.”

He grinned, running his tip along her slit before he slid past her folds. Joel groaned, moving his hands to her hips to hold her steady as he pushed himself further into her depths slowly. He would never get tired of this, of her and as her eyes had fallen shut, Joel tried to remind himself that they were on a time crunch. He couldn’t take his time like he normally did, so instead, he delivered a few sharp thrusts to elicit a loud moan from her.

“Shh…” He whispered, bringing a hand down to cover her lips. “Gotta stay quiet or else we’ll get caught.”

She nodded, looking into his eyes as his hips snapped into hers repeatedly. She felt every inch, throbbing within her walls as she milked his cock. Joel groaned, dropping his hand from her mouth to grab her hips again. He had to be quick, but he was still very determined to make her reach her climax first.

“Joel…” she whimpered, bringing her legs to wrap around his waist, which brought him deeper into her depths. Joel grunted, watching as her breasts bounced beneath the fabric of her dress as he continued his rough and deep thrusts. He could tell that she was nearing her climax from the way her body started to squirm against him and her eyes rolling shut once more. 

“Mmm, fuck me, darlin’,” Joel groaned. His thrusts were rough and he was sure that she was going to be sore after this. “Fuck, come for me, baby.”

She moaned, biting her lower lip to try and remain as quiet as possible as her walls finally tightened around him. Joel groaned, his thrusts never faltering as he allowed her to ride her high. After several thrusts, Joel felt a tightness in his lower abdomen before he quickly pulled out to release along her inner thigh. He was breathing heavily, staring down at her as he watched her bring a finger to her inner thigh and run it along his release. She brought her finger to her lips, sucking at the tip and tasting his warmth release. 

Joel growled. “Don’t get me started again.”

She smiled at him innocently. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Just wait until we get home,” Joel whispered huskily, his eyes dark and filled with arousal. “I’m gonna make you come over and over until all you can think about is me, and me alone.” 

“You promise?”

Joel grinned. “Oh, I guarantee it, darlin’.” 

“I love you,” she smiled, cleaning herself up and pulling her dress back down. 

Joel smiled to himself. He would never get tired of hearing those words.

“I love you too, darlin’.”

—

It had been a year since Lucille’s death and he would be lying to himself if he said he was handling it well. He was drinking mostly every day and he couldn’t handle living in the house, so he had decided to sell it. He was living in a small, one bedroom apartment and it was a complete mess. 

Losing Lucille had been tough on him and tonight was no different. He was already at a local bar, on his fourth drink as he slumped over the counter of the bar. He could hear the chatter coming from the main street, seeing plenty of people walking in the direction of a local art gallery.

Negan downed his drink, letting the alcohol burn his throat. He stood from his chair and tossed some bills onto the counter as he left the bar. He was feeling tipsy already, following the crowd until he saw her. 

He widened his eyes slightly and followed her into the art gallery. Negan had lost her in the crowd, feeling highly out of place as he stopped a nearby waiter who was carrying a tray of glasses filled with wine. He took one eagerly and downed the glass before grabbing another.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Negan tried to find her, the familiar face in the midst of the crowd before his eyes caught the photographs that were displayed. He arched a brow, deciding to take a look around as he noticed her name on most of the displayed pictures. 

He wasn’t watching where he was going before he bumped into a strong figure, looking down at the other man whose hair was slightly slicked back and was definitely dressed for the occasion. Though, despite his clothing, the man still looked out of place, almost like he didn’t belong and Negan simply smirked.

“Joel,” he grinned.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Joel whispered, his jaw tightening at the sight of the man. He glanced around the room, trying to find Y/N to prevent her from seeing that the father of her child was here, at her art show with photographs of Mila. 

“Who’s the kid? She’s in every single picture,” Negan asked, avoiding his question.

“I asked you a question, Negan.”

“And I asked you one too.”

Negan chuckled. He was amused that he still managed to get under Joel’s skin after all these years. 

“You need to leave,” Joel replied. “Now.”

“Why?” Negan asked, bringing the glass to his lips.

“Don’t you got a wife to take care of?” Joel replied. He noticed Negan’s expression change, seeing the smirk turn into a frown and his eyes narrowing slightly. Negan didn’t need to say anything for Joel to understand what had happened. “Ah, shit, I’m–”

Negan didn’t let him finish, bringing his free hand to deliver a rough punch across Joel’s face. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What the hell,” Joel groaned, gripping his jaw. He stared at the other man, his eyes narrowed as he tackled him to the floor. Immediately, the two men began exchanging punches, the gasps coming from the crowd as they moved away from the scene. 

Both men managed to deliver hard punches, skin tearing and blood dripping. By the time they were broken up and separated, Joel had a cut at his cheekbone while Negan’s lip was cut open. Both men also had bloody noses and when they heard their names, they turned their attention to her.

“Joel!” She exclaimed. 

“Negan?” she added. 

The art curator immediately ran to the commotion, seeing both men staring at each other with glares before he motioned for security to escort them out of the building.

“No… No, Jack, wait,” she stopped. 

“Honey, this is your night. Don’t let them ruin it.”

“I know, I just– I gotta talk to them.”

Jack sighed. “Fine. Take them to my office.” 

She nodded and led both men away from the crowd and to the back of the building, opening the door to Jack’s office and slamming the door shut. Her blood was boiling at the sight of the two and she looked around the room to see a roll of paper towels. Instantly, she tossed it to Negan who caught it with a low groan. 

“Joel, really?” She began. 

“Darlin’, he–”

“I don’t care!” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, snatching the paper towel from Negan to clean himself up.

“And you,” she then turned her attention to Negan.

“Hello again,” he winked.

“Fuck you,” she spat. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Well, if you want to go down memory lane, I wouldn’t–”

She walked up to him and delivered a sharp slap across his cheek. He grunted, tightening his jaw as he looked back down at her.

“You don’t get to show up here three years later and act like nothing’s wrong.”

“In my defense,” Negan said, dabbing at his lower lip with a wince. “I didn’t know this was your show and I certainly didn’t plan on coming here, but… I saw the crowd and decided to follow it.”

“Just my luck,” she whispered to herself. “You need to go.”

“That’s what I told him,” Joel chimed in.

“Joel, just don’t.”

“Sorry,” he repeated.

“She got you whipped,” Negan chuckled. “You finally fuck her, huh?”

Joel tightened his jaw and turned his body to face Negan, his hand curling into a fist. “Have some respect or else I’ll do worse than give you a busted lip.”

“Alright, sure, old man,” Negan spat, rolling his eyes. “I could fuck you up too.”

“Just stop!” She yelled, sighing in defeat. “You know what? I think we should just go home, Joel.”

“But it’s your night, darlin’.” 

“I just want to leave.” She sighed, glancing over at Negan. It hurt to have the father of her child standing so close to her. She wanted to tell him that he was a father, that her daughter was a spitting image of him with the dimples and quick-witted humor, but she couldn’t find the words.

“Wait,” Negan sighed. “If this is your art show, who’s the little girl?”

Her heart dropped. She glanced over at Joel and then back at Negan. “My daughter.”

Negan arched a brow, glancing between her and Joel. “No shit? Not only did you fuck her, but you got her pregnant?” 

“Negan, I swear to god–”

“She’s yours!” She yelled, finally feeling the weight being lifted off her shoulders. She looked over at Negan whose eyes had widened and his hands dropped to his sides. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. “I tried to tell you years ago, but you didn’t want anything to do with me…”

“I– I’m a dad?” Negan stuttered. “That little girl in all those pictures… She’s mine?”

“No, she’s mine. I have raised her for the past three years and–”

“You never fucking told me!” 

“I tried!” 

Negan let out an exhale, looking straight at her. He remembered that night very vividly and he had beat himself up for it ever since. He never meant to hurt her and now, he had missed out on three years of his daughter’s life.

Daughter. 

“I– I’m sorry, doll…” Negan started. “I just– I was in a very bad place and–”

“I don’t care. It’s too late.”

“I want to meet her,” he whispered. “Can I meet her?”

Joel instantly interrupted, shaking his head. “No. You’ve done enough.”

“You don’t have a say in this, Joel,” Negan spat. “You’re not her father.”

“And neither are you,” he replied. “By blood, sure, but I have been by that little girl’s side since the day she was born.”

She couldn’t say anything. She certainly wasn’t expecting to see Negan ever again and had hoped to avoid this type of confrontation. She knew it was too good to be true, that everything in her life was now falling into place. The universe was practically laughing at her. 

“Negan, I don’t–”

“I deserve to meet her,” he interrupted. 

“Deserve?” Y/N scoffed. “My daughter was six weeks premature. She had to stay in the hospital for a month… A month after she was born because she couldn’t breathe on her own and Joel… Joel had been there through it all. I don’t care if you were in a bad place, Negan. I called you plenty of times to try and tell you but you made it clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me. You don’t have the right to come in here and insert yourself back into my life or my daughter’s.”

“I’m sorry,” Negan repeated. “I can tell you everything if you just– If you give me a chance.” The color of his eyes and his dimples reminded her so much of Mila’s.

She hesitated, looking between Joel and Negan. She didn’t know what it was about Negan, but it appeared that she still had a soft spot for him because she slowly nodded, which caught Joel off guard.

“Darlin’–”

She shook her head. “Joel, this is my decision…”

Negan looked at her with hopeful eyes. “I just wanna meet her,” he added. 

“Not yet,” she answered. “You’re coming home with us tonight and you’re telling me everything.” 

Joel and Negan shared a glance that didn’t go unnoticed and she arched a brow. 

“I don’t think tonight is a good idea,” Joel commented. “It’s the night of your art show and–”

“That takes a backseat now that my daughter’s father is standing in front of me, begging to meet her,” she interrupted. “You ready to go?”

Negan slowly nodded, glancing over at Joel. “You gonna beat me up again?”

Joel scoffed. “First of all, you threw the first punch, asshole.”

“First things first,” she added. “No more fighting.” She delivered a stern look towards both men, causing Joel to immediately nod and Negan to smirk.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel responded.

“I kinda like this new side of you, doll.” Negan winked. 

She narrowed her eyes as a response.

Negan smirked, bringing a hand to salute her. “Yes, ma’am,” he copied. 

Joel rolled his eyes and reached over to grab Y/N’s hand, immediately lacing their hands together and Negan took notice of this. Joel glanced over at the other man, making sure to let him know that she was off the market and no longer available.

Negan smirked, leaning over to whisper in Joel’s ear. “So you did finally fuck her.”

“Shut up.”

---

Part 9.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be tagged!): @kaitebugg03, @a-girl-interupted, @igotbasicdrag, @darkshadow6200, @fandomoniumflurry, @xhannahbananax03, @quinnverses, @xojdmasf​​

[zirconika]

nine lives of a thief

TWO | the first life

NAVIGATION . MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a series entitled 'Nine Lives of a Thief,’ but you may choose to read each part as a oneshot. Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 4.7k SUMMARY: While on a supply run with Aaron, Daryl is eager to learn more about you. Getting pieces of you and your story then propels him to revisit your history to determine the best way to make it up to you. It goes awry when he discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. WARNINGS: Angst. Fluff is only in the childhood flashback. Uses scenes from S05EP16 SETTING: Pre-Negan Alexandria and Pre-Apocalypse A/N: omfg sorry for the late update i’ve been busy taking care of my college requirements and i took driving classes HAHSNDHDHAJA anyway hope u guys like this one

     Daryl Dixon was a man who was wired to function solely on just destination—get to it, do it, and leave it. It confused him that a part of him now ran on motivation. It was not the drive to operate that confounded him, but that he was always eager to return. 

     To you. To see you. 

     And if he’s lucky, maybe even speak to you. It bothered Daryl that the last real conversation you had was the first time you spoke since ever. There never seemed to be an opportunity anymore, and if there was, you always seemed like you were in a hurry or that you were busy as if you had a nine-to-five corporate job you had to tend to.

     He knew you were somewhat avoiding him, whether you knew it or not. 

     Right now, Daryl was focused on one thing—getting food for the community. Coming back to you was a close second. Even as Aaron made conversation, you were all he could think about. How he’d initiate a conversation without starting one. 

     The longer he listened to Aaron, the more he thought of ways he could bring you up: That girl, how’s she been? No, it’s too upfront. 

     “You okay?” asked his friend. 

     Daryl perked up. “Hm? Ah, m’sorry, just distracted.”

     “You wanna ask me something,” Aaron guessed as they kept walking. 

     “Yeah, I… Wanted to ask ‘bout Eric. Er—how is he?” Daryl worried Aaron would catch on, but it was clear he loved talking about his beloved. His enthusiasm for Eric reminded Daryl of your spirit back when he first met you when he was all but six.

     A bright smile broke on Aaron’s face as Daryl opened a wired gate. Aaron’s smile stayed as he talked about Eric. “Says he misses being out here with me. I do, too and…”

     Daryl swung the gate open, entering the deserted courtyard, thinking only of you while Aaron talked about Eric. It wasn’t that Daryl didn’t care—he did, but it wasn’t exactly easy to act like he did when his mind did him a grizzly favor bringing you up every single time. How much older you looked…

     He felt he missed a great deal of your life, and he was hoping he’d get to see more of it now that you’d reunited. If only you just weren’t so damn hard to reach then—

     “You ever felt that way about anyone before?” Aaron asked him as he followed from behind. He could sense the question in Daryl’s eyes. If he knew Daryl wasn’t listening, he didn’t give him too much for it. “Love, I mean.”

     He hadn’t heard of that word in a long time. In fact, he thinks the first time he ever learned of the word was decades ago.

     “That Dixon kid spells trouble.”

     It was your father’s routine to comment on your then next door neighbors whenever he visited you at your grandparents’ home in Georgia. It was usually that specific combination, but it also differed each day. Sometimes, he was talking about the younger kid, while sometimes the older one.

     It mattered to you a lot. You knew them more than just trouble. You were keen on making sure your family never found out you had a crush on ‘that Dixon kid.’ 

     The first time you met Daryl, you were instantly hooked by his eyes. To you, it was the greatest shade of blue you’ve ever seen. You were just settling in your grandparents’ home, saddened to spend your childhood away from your parents as they worked in the city. They figured it wasn’t exactly the best place to raise a child, so they sent you to the scorching land that is rural Georgia, in the safety of your grandparents’ care.

     You hated the Georgia heat, hated that you had to say goodbye to your friends in the city. That is until you saw that charming fella, sporting worn out overalls as he rode his bike away from home. 

     You just had butterflies fluttering in your belly. At first, you thought he had pepper or some sort of dirt just above his lips, but you learned the hard way that it was only a mole, but that’s another story for later.

     Rejection from a crush is usually a direction to stay away. To you, however, you were only more interested in getting close to the much shorter kid. You planned on befriending him first, then riding a horse to a faraway castle to get married second. 

     The first time Daryl met you, he despised you. He loathed you, even. Hated the way you wore your hair in braids and the way you couldn’t take a hint even if he tried. It was on the first day of first grade, only on the way to school.

     He always sat alone by the window in the school bus, his lunch nothing but a juice carton he could fit in his tiny pocket. You had sat down next to the boy, his feet barely enough to reach the floor. 

     “Y’know, you’re gonna starve if you call that your lunch later,” you told him.

     He only scowlded at you in response, ignoring you to watch the world pass by the window. 

     You smiled at him nonetheless. As far as you were concerned, you liked this boy. You knew right then that you would be safe in his company. “I’m [Y/N]. You are?”

     No response. You let that go on for a while—just sitting right next to each other as he watched the small world pass him by, acting as if you weren’t even there. Unapologetically, you touched the surface of his face just above his lips, trying to swipe away the supposed dirt stain.

     “What’d ‘ya do that for?”

     “You have something on your face! I couldn’t just let you go to school with that,” you argued. You could almost see it: the kids laughing and pointing at him all because he forgot to wipe off a stain from his face! You were just concerned is all.

     The boy wiped at his cheek with his hand, only to realize what you were referring to. “Heavens to Betsy! S’just a mole I’ve had since I’s a baby!”

     “Great! We’re making conversation.” You smile at the boy. “You’ve gotta think it’s silly that I know about your mole and not your name.”

     “Not gonna. Yer piddlin’, talkin’ so loud ‘ya could piss off the Pope, actin’ lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut!”

     You frown, confused at his Southern lingo “Piss of the Pope? Lower than a snake’s what?”

     His frown dissolved. “What, yer not from around here or somethin’?”

     He was relieved to see your smile return, glad to not have pissed you off to send you running back to whichever father you had who, he assumed, probably had a shotgun. 

     “Yeah! I’m from Brooklyn.”

     The boy grunted, crossing his arms. “You’ve got an awful lot to say for someone who just moved.”

     “Oh, I only have this much to say to people I like.”

     “Well, I don’t like you,” he interjected.

     You only smiled as you unzipped your bag to pull out another smaller bag. “Didn’t say you had to, because I can make you!”

     Before he could argue, you tore your sandwich in half, handing one half to him and keeping one the other for yourself to munch on. “Try it,” you tell him.

     “How do I know ya ain’t trynna poison me?”

     Rolling your eyes, you took a bite from the snack. You handed it to him insistently. “I’m still alive.”

     “Yeah, but—”

     “Just try it!”

     Daryl’s never had enough good things in his life that your sandwich appeared to be more of a threat than a peace offering. He was used to getting the shortest end of the stick, or not even any.

     He opened his mouth to debate against it, but he gave in. One bite in and something told you he hasn’t had something quite like it for the past year. You decided right then and there that you wanted to be the one who could put a smile on his face.

     “This—sh’good.” The young boy admitted in between loud chewing. “You made this?”

     “Meemaw did,” you replied, grinning as you ate your own half. “I’ve got more snacks in my bag, if you wanna share them later. But I need to know your name first!”

     The bus came to a halt. It was the first time you looked at him clearly, and him you. “I’m Daryl.”

     That night, he was all you could think of. The blue-eyed little boy who you were determined to make yours. His pretty nose, his funny walk, his everything. You weren’t particularly secretive with your feelings, bringing a sandwich for him after you asked your grandma to pack you two every day. 

     It wasn’t just the sandwiches, though. You’d often pester him, asking if he’d ever want to marry you one day, to which he’d respond with, “Ew, never!”

     “Daryl,” you called to him as he ran away from you, retreating back to his house.

     “What?” he turned back to yell.

     Grinning, you braced yourself for his outburst of anger. You made it a hobby to rile Daryl on your quest to make him yours. “I loooove you!”

     “No!” he spat back, running even faster back to his house. You laughed the entire time, thinking of when he’d eventually wear down and say it back. Little did your young self know, she’d be able to turn the tables around in just a decade. But that’s a story for another time.

     Little Daryl, on the other hand, lay in bed, staring at the ceiling racking his mind on ways he could get rid of you. That day, he was guilty of something grave, something dangerous. Thieves are born once they do the honor of their first theft, and you were just unlucky enough to be Daryl's first victim, having done you the untimely inconvenience of stealing your heart. That day was the first of many lives he would lead.

  ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

     “I dunno, I was young. But I guess I did, once,” Daryl said after recounting his earliest memory he had of you: stubborn, ambitious, and determined. “Whatever it was, I screwed it up.”

     “Screwed up how?” Aaron asked, and Daryl wondered if you had opened up about your past to the guy. He wishes he’d brought you up in the conversation earlier on so that it wouldn’t be suspicious for him to suddenly talk about you after he’d just given a glimpse into his history.

     “Drove her away when I drove away,” Daryl said lightly. He was relieved to find a confused Aaron, but more so when they reached a couple of cargo containers lined up in an organized fashion marked with the text: How the harvest gets home. 

     Aaron wanted to ask, but his interest was piqued by the promise of food to take home. They made their way through the gap between the two containers, eager to give it a look. Daryl noticed the two cans hanging by the sides before he followed suit, but he followed anyway. 

     The pair climbed up the short length of stairs, pleased to find more containers.

     “Huh,” Aaron chuckled, enthused about what awaited behind the doors. The can on the door was certainly appetizing. “Woah…”

     Daryl watched as Aaron mused about the container, who bent down to loot his pack for a tool to obtain another license plate, this time from Alaska—K4Z 816, with the subtext ‘The Last Frontier.’ There was definitely something… Strange and unsettling about the place. However, the promise of something to bring back weighed more than the thought of coming empty-handed. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

     “Hey, listen,” Aaron called out, triumphant while Daryl explored the small space enclosed by the containers. “I don’t like giving up either. But… The guy is in a red poncho. You could see him from miles away. We’ve got a lot of miles here, and no sign of him.”

     The lock of the container caught Daryl’s attention.

     Aaron began to walk over to Daryl after getting a new addition to his collection. “We’ve come away with… A trailer full of cans. I’d say that’s a good trip!”

     The pair stopped in front of one of the containers. Daryl bent down to tinker with the lock, eager to get out of there to return to you. “Here you go.”

     The archer was already picturing the many things he wanted to do when he saw you again, and the ways he could approach you. Daryl grunted as he swung the handle open.

     The choice to open the door was certainly a choice, albeit an absolutely fatal one. Wires snapped from all directions as the door slid open upwards. There were no cans inside of the container, no. The pair jumped in horror as they were met by the gruesome sight of the dead, some impaled by a hook and some able to chase freedom. 

     One by one, all of the doors swung open to reveal the very same scene in front of them. The pair dashed out of the scene upon discovering their mission was a total bust. 

     The walkers were already pouring out into the open space, blocking their only way out. Daryl plunged his knife down one of the walkers making its way to him, its groans speaking only of its lethal appetite. Aaron, on the other hand, made a weapon out of the license plate he’d just looted, smashing it against the temple of a walker twice until its head split open.

     “Over here!” Aaron yelled to Daryl, pointing to the space under one of the containers. The archer followed Aaron in a haste and for the first time in a long while, Daryl feared death. 

     He felt his heart beat faster every passing second that the dead clawed their way to them, crawling with an undying thirst for their flesh. He wondered if you’d miss him if he were to die now, if you’d look for him…

     No. There was no way in damn hell he’d die without explaining himself at least twice. That’s right—twice. And even possibly more just so you’d take him back. He’d make it up to you. Daryl stole one glance at the walker crawling towards him with a ‘W’ blatantly itched on its forehead before obtaining a long metal chain as a weapon.

     The troubled pair hurriedly got out of the small space, with Daryl whipped the chain on three incoming walkers, ruthlessly determined to get out of there. He was already drafting a plan in his head: get out of there, get to you, talk to you. He was no longer going to spend more time waiting around for the right time, if there even was such a thing.

     He plunged his dagger deep into the head of the walker that had gotten ahold of Aaron’s bag before running out together. Aaron wasted no time slicing the head of a walker clean with his own machete, eager to be out of there as soon as possible. He did the same for another one coming his way.

     Holy shit, was it terrifying having to push through the walking dead as if it were just a mosh pit in a concert. The two couldn’t even begin to catch their breath as they jumped into the same door of a car, especially as a head of a walker just peeped inside in time when Aaron made to shut the door close. He had to do it multiple times until the head was crushed enough for him to finally close it.

     The shelter of the car was no use, though. Walkers gathered from all sides, clamoring to get inside. They both knew it wouldn’t hold and would eventually give up. For sure, more walkers would be drawn by the commotion, curious to get a piece of what was inside the damn car.

     “Glass will hold for a while, right?” Aaron asked, observing the crowd of hands and brutal groans from the dead on all sides of the car’s windows.

     “Maybe,” Daryl replied, still holding a dagger in his hand. Daryl thought of ways he could salvage this mission for the sake of returning to you. “Maybe we can make it so they can't see us. In a couple hours, somethin’ will come by, they’ll follow it out. There’s gotta be somethin’ in here we can use to block the view.”

     Aaron began to rummage through the compartments. “We can cut up these seats.”

     He only found an eerie warning written on a crumpled sheet of paper in one of the cup holders, stating, ‘TRAP. BAD PEOPLE COMING. DON’T STAY.’

     Aaron showed it to Daryl, who could only think of how damn helpful it would have been three minutes ago. Just like that, he was drained of the hope he could ever return to you. 

     They sat there for a while like that, hopeless. Daryl chuckled.

     “What?” Aaron asked.

     “I came out here to… Not feel all closed up back there. Even now, this feels like me… Than back in them houses. That’s pretty messed up, huh?”

     “You were trying,” he assured Daryl.

     “Can I tell ya somethin’?”

     Aaron nodded. “Lay it on me.”

     “[Y/N]... I’ve known her since we were kids. She’s—er—the one I been thinkin’ of back there when ya asked me if I’ve ever felt it before. I did. I… I thought I’d never even see her again, so I put her in the back of my mind ‘cause the last time I did, I ruined her for good. I thought she was livin’ the perfect life I always pictured for her if I left, thought she was better off. Then I met her and… Shit, I’m an asshole.”

     Aaron sat there, taking in everything Daryl had just told him. You had shared a fair piece of your history to him, entrusting him with a small part of your past you thought you’d never end up facing again. He knew of a first love that broke your heart, knew you have your fair share of regrets and grudges. He just didn’t expect it to be Daryl Dixon.

     “I see.” Aaron only nodded. “She used to be my partner out on these runs, yknow.”

     “Yeah?” Daryl asked, intrigued. He was never able to learn much about you for the past week, having been cautious about who he could and could not ask. “Why’d it stop?”

     “Well…” Aaron sighed, his eyes focused on the unsightly crowd of dead clamoring to break the glass. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell.”

     “You don’t think we’re gonna die in here?” Daryl asked with a smirk.

     “Yeah, I don’t. We’re both gonna get out of here and you’ll ask her about it and she’ll tell you.” Aaron looked around the windows. “You’ve got a lot to know. It wasn’t easy for her back then.”

     “Right.”

     “Listen, I saw you with your group out there on the road. Then you went off on your own by the barn. Storm hit and you led your people to safety. That was it. I knew I had to bring you people back.”

     Daryl could only give him a hopeless smile.

     “You were right. We should have kept looking for that guy in a poncho,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have given up. You didn’t.”

     Daryl licked his lips before pulling out a cigar and placing it between his teeth. He didn’t mind having a heroic end anymore, because it meant earning him at least an ounce of redemption. It would be a sort of repentance for what he’d done to you all those years. “I’ll go.”

     Aaron looked back up to him, confused.

     Daryl had to explain as he lit his cigarette.  “I’ll lead them out. You make a break for the fence.”

     “No, no, no,” said Aaron. “This was my fault.”

     “It wasn’t a question.” He’d made up his mind. Daryl took away the cigarette from his mouth for a moment. “And this ain’t your decision. It ain’t nobody’s fault. Just let me finish my smoke first.”

     Aaron looked at Daryl, and he was sure the archer did not want to die just yet. He wasn’t gonna let that happen to his friend. “No. You don’t draw them away. We fight.”

     And fight they did, braving the outside. It was simply luck that the man in the red poncho happened to be their very savior, and he was just looking for the man that led them to shelter.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

     Any half-sane man should have been concerned with the matter at hand—the crime scene unfolding before him. Rick stood there, blood the main component of his gait, having just executed the community’s only doctor.

     And yet Daryl couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, couldn’t help but stop the questions running in his head: Is she alrigh’? What is she thinkin’ right now? Is she okay? Is she fine?

     When your eyes met his, we raised his brow in question. You only looked down, avoiding his look. You always did that. You’ve been avoiding him. This time, he let it slide. After all, you did just witness a murder.

     For a while after that, you continued to avoid him. He let you. Maybe because he wanted you to, but eventually he grew tired of it. A couple of nights after the incident, he decided he’d take matters into his own hands with you.

     Daryl watched you from below. You were on watch duty at this hour of the night, manning the gates in the event a threat presented itself.

     You were so lost in thought you almost fell off the wooden watch tower when someone offered you a sandwich. 

     “I don’t think ya should be on watch if ya didn’t even catch me climbin’ up here,” the archer said, his hand outstretched with a wrapped sandwich in hand. “Made it myself.”

     “Sorry, I was just…”

     “Avoidin’ me?” he asked.

     “What?” you asked back with a nervous laugh that faded into silent confession. You took the sandwich, scrutinizing it with a nostalgic burn in your chest. This has happened before, but you didn’t want to ask him about it or bring it up in any way at all.

     Daryl looked into the distance, the night sky with a lot more stars than he could recall from when he left. “Stars are brighter nowadays, huh?”

     You’re grateful he was kind enough to give you a break from the subject. But he wasn’t trying to change it. He was just thinking of the night he left… “Light pollution’s gone down, so… Yay apocalypse?”

     His gaze returned back to you, and you wanted to beat yourself up for feeling that familiar rush of butterflies in your stomach like you did back when the only thing you felt for him was love. “Ya ain’t gonna try it? S’gonna get cold.”

     “How do I know you’re not gonna—?”

     This time, Daryl took the bread from your hands to take a bite. “Poison ya? I’m still alive.”

     You took the sandwich with a laugh. “I was gonna say drug me into liking you.”

     “Don’t need drugs for that.” Daryl gave you that same old damned smile he did, and suddenly the air smelled like the leather seats of your parents’ car that you stole. You held his stare, but you refused to return the smile. 

     “I should go,” you told him, shoving the bread to his chest as you rushed down the ladder. You heard Daryl’s frustrated and confused grunt while you were hurrying down. 

     By the time you got down, Daryl was just close behind. “[Y/N|,” he called out calmly.     “Goodnight, Daryl.” You felt the tears prickle in your eyes. You refused to face him, you just felt the fire in your legs propelling you forward, pushing you to run home. It was all so familiar, everything he did. You hated the way you felt so stupidly attached… You were an idiot. You’d give in, and everything would just go like it did back then.     “[Y/N],” he called out once more, this time with the slightest hint of indignation. He just wanted to talk to you so he could say his piece, would that be so bad? “Stop, damn it.”

     You heard his footsteps getting louder and closer just as he grabbed you by your wrist, purposeful yet so gentle like he always was whenever he touched you back then. Your heart was beyond just beating quickly. You were sure it would eventually break through your bones and run free.     You didn’t even realize your face was wet with tears until Daryl wiped it off for you. You were seventeen all over again, crying to him and asking him to take you with him if he was going to leave. You were nine once more, crying yourself to sleep after moving away. 

     “I can’t,” you utter out.     “Can’t what? Tell me.” His eyes were hungry for answers, but you didn’t even know either. You just knew you couldn’t stand to see him anymore. It broke your heart, because you thought that if you would ever run into him again, you would be okay. That you would have moved on, and you could remain civil. So many words you wanted to tell him. 

     You swat his hand away. “I can’t keep talking to you just because you’re here. I can’t—can’t keep pretending that you’re—you—that what happened for around thirty fucking years ago is no longer bothering me, because I know damn full well that it is and it always will! And you being here I… I just… I can’t!”

     “Ya want me to go?” he asked, gentle as ever.

     “No, Daryl,” you said, out of words you could say to even come close to saying what it is you felt. “I just… I just wish you never left.”

     So many explanations, and yet it was all reduced to you pushing him away. You just needed to get out of there.     And that should’ve been the end of it. Daryl respected your preference for isolation. That really should have been the end of it for at least that night. He stood there, his heart half-broken. He just decided that maybe he deserved it, that he was stupid for thinking he deserved even another chance.

     As Daryl watched you walk down the street away from him, he decided he’d give you more time. As much as you needed until you were—

     In the short distance, you fell to your knees. Daryl halted in his tracks, his brows furrowed in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were doing. Even though your back was to him, he could make out that you were doing the same habit he was used to seeing you doing, only this time, your back was heaving up and down.

     God, he didn’t need to see anything else anymore. He was already on his way the moment he felt something was wrong. His mind raced with so many terrible scenarios he refused to verbalize. 

     “[Y/N], what’s wrong?” he asked, worried as he knelt down in front of you. “What’s happenin’?”

     “I—” Your mouth was locked shut from the static that spread from the tips of your fingers all the way to your jaw. It was cold, and it was burning hot. 

     You felt Daryl scoop you in your arms without question, and you let him. You heaved short, heavy breaths you couldn’t begin to catch. You felt and heard your heart in every direction, beating as if it was taunting you. 

     “...Bringin’ ya to Denise,” you heard Daryl say over the racing pace of your deafening heartbeat. You shook your head, the static finding that safe spot of yours, too. 

     “No, I—please—home—don’t—Denise,” you managed to say in between the uncontrollable hitches in your breath. 

     Daryl shook his head, slowing down as he tried to think of the right thing to do. But he felt your fist tighten its grip on his vest in request.

     “Please. Now—Now, Dar—Now.”

     You felt him caressing your hair with the gentlest of touches, just as you remember it. You felt him whispering soft promises against your ear, but you couldn’t make any single word out of it as everything went pitch black…

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[juuuulez]

📰 | prologue: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes-less chapter (sorry!), Negan x Daughter! Reader, pre/start of apocalypse, violence and minor gore, morally grey reader, mentions of child abuse/neglect.

summary: When the apocalypse breaks loose, you find yourself in companionship with your sport teacher, Mr. Smith.

THIS was so much fun to write!!!! Genuinely my favourite chapter I’ve done so far. Let me know what you all think, because I’d love to do more little tidbits that stray from the original story. But with that in mind, this instalment IS required to understand parts of the fic going forward. Prologue is mandatory…..I’ve just finally done it.

Chapters 1, 2, 3, and 4 are already out! 5 will return to our regularly scheduled program of Carl and (Y/N) bickering.

You valued consistency.

Doing the same thing, every day.

Even if your life was shit, at least it was consistently shit.

You always knew how to behave. What could just go unpunished. How to enter the house without making a sound. The perfect patterns to ensure your location wasn’t given away. What exactly to say to avoid being hit.

It was routine, comfortable. You permanently lived on the edge, waiting. Listening, watching. Observing those around you.

As routine, you were late. It was becoming quite the pattern, but you couldn’t help it. The bus ran late. Or, you suppose… if it ran late every day, then it was on schedule. Maybe you should start catching an earlier bus.

Whatever, it didn’t matter.

Second period, Tuesday.

Sport.

Now, you didn’t necessarily dislike sport. But you didn’t really love it, either.

The uniform always made you feel insecure. Which, at the ripe age of 13, doesn’t seem to be an emotion your peers are experiencing yet. Or maybe they are just better at hiding it than you are. It’s also incredibly performative, sport, which you hate. Being singled out, going one by one, choosing teams. All of it was terrible.

You didn’t mind your teacher.

Which, went a long way, considering you disliked most people who resided within these buildings. Teachers and students alike.

But Mr. Smith was nice. To you, at least. And to everyone. He was loud, had too much energy, but you didn’t mind. It just meant that he cared about his job.

You absentmindedly tugged at the sleeves of your shirt, the fabric wrapped around your arms to make up for the breezy garment of the girls tank top. It made you look different, set you apart. You hated that.

Regardless, you fall in line with the others.

Baseball.

Granted, you’ve never played baseball before. Sure, you’d watched it, on the small occasion that you were allowed to stay with a friend. It was a vivid memory. Watching from the hallway, over her father’s shoulder, whilst she was asleep.

You wished that your father liked sports. Or maybe cooking. Or collecting things, cleaning things, fixing things. Anything.

It’s almost the end of class, you’re standing at the back of the line. Three kids, then two, then just one. You. The others are standing on the bleachers, already collecting their equipment, preparing for break.

“Batter-up.” Mr. Smith says, though you don’t understand the colloquialism. Nonetheless, you move forward, accepting the bat from the previous student. Another is further down the field. Bowler, you presume.

The metal bat is cold between your fingers, clenched in your dominant hand. It’s heavy, but not an unmanageable amount, just enough to keep you aware of it. There’s weight to the swing, weight on your arm, shoulder. It takes a moment to find your footing.

But when you do, the other student has already thrown the ball. It’s hurdling towards you, faster than comfortable. Spinning through the air with a distinct whizz, perfectly curved, heavy. Dangerous.

It’s instinctual. Your body twists, landing a hit on the spherical object with laser accuracy, the impact ringing in your ears as it soars away, towards the end of the pitch.

Your head snaps in the opposite direction, recalling the match you’d silently observed years ago. There are beige bases in the grass, thin plates. The bat falls from your grip, hitting the ground with a thud, and you move to start running.

It only takes a few steps before reality clicks in, and you realise the feat is pointless. Nobody else is playing. There is no-one to catch your ball, to cheer and clap. Everybody has already begun to leave. They didn’t watch you, didn’t continue the game. Three seconds tick over before the bell rings, releasing the crowd of children awaiting their freedom.

Suddenly the summer breeze is too hot, the sleeves of your shirt itching, sticking to your skin. The tank is too tight. It hugs your body in the wrong way, vulnerable, at their mercy. And yet, you are unseen in a similar manner, and there’s an inkling of you that wants to be judged, simply to say you’d been recognised.

You’re collecting your things, and by that, putting your muddied sneakers into a plastic bag and slipping on new ones. There are footsteps behind you. Heavy, easily identifiable as an adult. You have impeccable hearing.

Before he can announce himself, you’ve turned. There’s always been respect in your tone when conversing with teachers, well aware of the authority they hold, despite your frequent disagreeable on their methods.

“Never mentioned you were good at baseball.” Mr. Smith quips, already packing up the equipment left behind from the lesson into a large bag. Those concrete-hard balls, the plastic bases, the metal bats.

“I’ve never played, sir.” You tell him, flashing that usual, awkward smile that doesn’t really count as a smile, but just the pursing of your lips. An attempt at civility from somebody too irreversibly damaged for their age.

“Well, we’ve got a team running,” He continues to speak whilst organising, and though he does not look at you, your attention is drawn. “Could come find you later, give you the permission slip.”

That bursts your bubble. There’s no chance in hell that you could persuade your father to sign it. There was forging the signature, but this game would run in after-school hours, an extra curricular. You wouldn’t be allowed.

“I dunno,” You shrug in premature defeat, slinging the bag over your shoulder, coming to stand at the feet of the bleachers. “Not really a team player. Wouldn’t fit in with the older girls.”

Though there’s no visible indication, it’s obvious that Mr. Smith disregards this as a valid excuse. Which, it definitely isn’t, but it’s the little statement you tell yourself in order to feel less shitty about missing an opportunity.

“How about I get you the slip, and then you’ve got the option?” It’s said as a question, but clearly isn’t, as he’s then reaching into the duffel bag and pulling out one of those heavy, metal bats.

He holds it out to you, and you have no choice but to take it.

“Get some practise in before the weekend.”

Then Mr. Smith is leaving, and you’re left standing there, on the muddy field. The second bell rings out.

You’re late.

Now, this habitual lateness may not be all so coincidental.

Tardiness was handled rather vigorously in the seventh grade, for whatever reason. You didn’t understand.

But it hasn’t taken too long into the year to crack the metaphorical code. Detention was mandated for wrongdoings, ergo, another hour before you had to be home.

You’d take detention over home any day of the week.

So it was unsurprising when you ended up there this afternoon, settling into your usual spot near the back. There were a other kids, the typical troublemakers, and a few poor souls who genuinely had misfortune befall them.

Mrs. Hagerty, the librarian, overlooked detention. She was old and slow, grey hair, grey lips. Grey… skin. Well, she looked half-dead, which was saying something. You weren’t surprised, though it was a little suspicious how she hadn’t chastised you for bringing the baseball bat into the room.

It sat propped up against your desk.

Despite your adamancy against pointless procedures, public humiliation, gossip, and assholes in charge, you were quite good at school. English, primarily, was your strong suit. Reading, writing. All of it.

The peace that you’d carefully crafted was interrupted roughly halfway into the lesson. Or, babysitting session, as Mrs. Hagerty was yet to look up from her desk. Talk about worlds easiest job.

You still remembered that day, even now. Years later.

At the time, Mr. Smith was nothing but your sport teacher, someone with authority who you detested less than most other figures. A reasonable constant in your life, so far.

Now, he was Negan. Everything to you, in a way. Alike to how you were everything to him. Though you didn’t know it then, this was the day that he’d consume an entirely different part of your mind, forging a new identity that would terrorise, ravage, and torment communities.

But in the same breath, protect you, help raise you, construct an entire empire with you as the sun. Though you’d never succumb to the hive mind, you were not Negan. But you certainly were his.

Nonetheless, it all started within that room. The detention room.

“Permission slip.” Negan announced, placing the small pink paper on the desk in front of you. He attempted to keep his voice hushed, mindful of the other students who were meant to be studying, but appeared more to be sleeping.

Now that it was out of school hours, and he was likely printing, Negan wore reading glasses. Later, you would mock him for these, making comments about him being old.

It always awarded you with that same distinct look of warning. Yet, it never made you feel threatened, but appreciated. Seen.

You slide the permission slip closer, reading the small black writing. In the same motion, you fish out a pen, jotting down cursive letters in the underlined section.

You slide it back.

“I can’t take this,” Negan points out with a sign, gazing down at the signature that is obviously not one of your parents. “You’re really making me go back, and print another one?”

This causes you to roll your eyes, “So I can take it home and do the same thing? That just wastes both of our time… our you could take it now.”

However, he won’t budge. “It’s policy. Go home, get it signed. I don’t need to know how.”

Though you feign annoyance, the insinuation made you want to smile. Turns out, Negan knew more than he was letting on. Gossip spread across faculty quickly, and it didn’t take a genius to deduct your… poor living situation.

The long sleeves, the turtle necks, the gloves. Jeans in summer. Never a parent to attention parent-teacher conferences.

He’s about to turn and leave, when there’s a slight commotion at the front of the room.

One of the younger students, Jasmin, is talking to Mrs. Hogarty in a hushed voice. Goody-two-shoes.

When she gets no response, the student only continues talking, trying to elicit a reaction from the teacher that has otherwise remained silent. In an irreversible mistake, Jasmin reaches out, gently waving her tanned hand in front of glazed over eyes.

Mrs. Hogarty lunges at her, finally in motion, chubby hands gripping at the forearm of the girl and taking a bite from plush skin. Blood spurts from the wound, Jasmin screams in horror, alike to the rest of the few misdemeanours in the room.

Everyone is in motion. Some try to help Jasmin, others flee. You’re stuck. Truth is, though you boast agility, you’ve never been in a situation like this. Your mouth gapes like a fish, open, closed, searching for something to say, to do. A reaction befitting of this complete, disgusting travesty.

“C’mon, up. Let’s go.” Negan is talking to you, you realise. It’s like everything finally clicks back into motion, the water no longer clogging your ears, making everything muffled and distant. This is reality.

You scramble from the chair, grabbing books, pencils, hastily shoving them into your little brown bag.

But there’s a hand on your shoulder, urging you forward, towards the exit sitting towards the back of the classroom. “Leave it, no time.” Negan is telling you, helping you off the floor. Before the two of you can make a break for it, your hands clasp around the metal baseball bat.

It swings at your side as you leave the building, feet padding against the concrete of the pavement. It’s strangely… desolate. There is no increasing urgency, nobody around. It almost makes you question whether what happened was real. But you’re still walking, forward, away.

“Shouldn’t we help her?” You ask, to which Negan finally stops to look back at you. His brows furrow, confused, so you clarify. “Jasmin.”

“No, no, there isn’t any helping her,” He clarifies, talking slowly to try and get the idea in your head. “I read about this shit online, it’s in other countries. Europe. They aren’t people anymore.”

You don’t quite catch on, understand the severity of his words. But it makes sense. No person would act like that. Your feet begin to move again, travelling the familiar path.

“Hey, where are you going?” Negan calls out, and it’s only now that you become aware of the distance between you. Your head snaps into the direction of the bus stop, a silent answer, and Negan seems to deduct your intentions. He nods in the opposite direction. “C’mon.”

You obey, needing to skip in order to catch up with his longer strides. The bat is still clenched in your dominant hand, cold metal occasionally making contact with the side of your leg. It’s heavy, but you’re getting used to it.

As you approach the car park, the sun beats down, warming the asphalt. A few paces away is Negan’s truck, but before that, another person you quickly identify as an older student.

Stringy hair, grey skin, dull eyes. Arms reaching out, wandering aimlessly. The animated corpse seems to have some semblance of consciousness, as it spots you, limping over.

Preemptively, you take a step back, that familiar feeling of panic flooding your system at an unavoidable danger. Luckily, Negan appears to be significantly more composed than you are, as he’s reaching back for something. Extending a hand to you.

When you don’t react, he whistles, a high-pitched noise that instantly gets your attention. You did not know it yet, but this would become a familiar constant in your life. Nonetheless, you catch onto what he meant, letting the metal bat fall into his extended hand.

“Are you gonna…?” You don’t finish your question, as you’re unsure what exactly you think may happen. There’s a small part of you that doesn’t want to know.

Luckily, Negan provided little answers. “Go around and get in the truck.” He tells you, instructs you, and you listen simply because you trust him. Which, in this day and age, is dangerous.

You busy yourself with the seatbelt in order not to watch, able to mentally fill in the blanks as to the measure that Negan was taking. It made sense, you supposed. They weren’t alive anymore, couldn’t feel. Only wanted to hurt other people. Therefore, they needed to be put down.

There’s a clang as he places the baseball bat in the back of the truck, getting into the drivers seat and starting the engine. You watch this interest, unable to remember the last time somebody drove you anywhere. Never, if you recall correctly.

Thankful, Negan opts to ignore the way you inspect his every movement, like a little bird. Or a startled cat.

“Your address?” He requests, already making a start down the street that he would presume lead towards your house. It snaps you out of the little daze, face scrunching up.

“No, gross. I can’t give you my address,” You say in a matter-of-fact tone, as if the idea of completely insane. “You could be a predator, for all I know. That’s private information.”

Negan gives you that look again, the same one when you’d forged the signature. He can’t quite understand you. “Why would I work in a school if I was a predator? Tell me, how would I get that job.”

You shrug, “Maybe because that’s exactly what you want.”

He becomes fed up with your inane accusation, rolling his eyes. Yet, despite the attitude you’ve adopted, he does not get frustrated with you. “Address, now. I’m takin’ you home.”

There’s a large part of you that doesn’t even want to go home, yet you obey, providing Negan with your address to which he turns down the proper street. Luckily, you don’t live too far from school… or, unlucky, you suppose. For it isn’t long until you’re pulling into your driveway.

You get out, footsteps cautious against the pavement. A few meters away is an older lady, half alive, clinging to the path with desperate hands despite the concave appearance of her head. Your neighbour. She groans upon noticing you, but her legs are broken, and cannot move forward.

Remembering earlier, you move backwards towards the truck, fishing out the metal bat. It’s shiny metallic end is caked with reddish blood, stringing bits of decomposing guts hanging from it.

You can only make it a step forward until Negan is holding your shoulder again, pushing you in the opposite direction, towards the house. “Nope. Just leave her, she ain’t hurting anyone.”

Usually, you would detest being controlled. Told what to do. The shadow of an adult so close behind you, watching, letting their hands intrude on your space. But you didn’t feel threatened by Negan, which was odd. You weren’t going to complain about it, that’s for sure.

You ascend up the shallow stairs, coming to a stop in front of the door. When you reach out, pressing on the doorhandle, you’re shocked to find that it simply swings open, already sitting ajar. Dread fills your body.

It’s not that fearful, sickly dread that you get when you know you’ve done something wrong, and are awaiting the inevitable consequences. No, its.. different. You’ve felt it very few times before. Concern, worry. Knowing that something is wrong, and you cannot stop it.

Nonetheless, you enter the house. It’s in its familiar state, which provides a slight comfort to you, but Negan finds himself taken aback. It’s practically a mess. Every surface has something on it, whether it be pointless junk, or the garbage of bottles and cans. A few areas remain spotless, like the kitchen counter, and the bin remains empty and carefully tucked away.

It’s clear that you upkeep the small areas which you require for your autonomy. The rest of the place? Not your problem. It’s no wonder you don’t like being there.

As you pat further down the hallway, Negan draws his attention to the entrance. There’s a large bookshelf, though the books are dusty, likely long since actually used. A few slots are unusually empty, indicating that you’ve taken some to keep elsewhere.

But it’s the top shelf that draws his attention. Two photographs, positioned around thirty centimetres apart, with two respective urns behind them. One significantly smaller. Mother and daughter, he recognises. Mother and baby, actually.

It’s apparent that this is the home of a family that’s lost half of its inhabitance. He can’t help but wonder, is this the fate that will befall him, come Lucille’s death? Hopefully not. Nothing like this.

“Dad?”

Negan regains his sense of reality, curiosity piked as you’re speaking down the hall. He moves further into the space, standing in the kitchen as he observes you, there on the porch.

You stand near the doorway, that bat still hanging from one hand. In front of you, a figure, sitting down. Next to him, a half-empty case of beers. Part of Negan becomes increasingly alert, aware, prepared to avoid letting any harm befall you. A harm that you’re likely accustomed to.

There’s no response.

“C’mon. Just say something.” You urge, sounding utterly defeated. And yet, your father gives no response, despite the impending doom blanketing the situation.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand. The vicious, red welt on your fathers neck gives it away, jagged and seeping blood that stains his already unkept shirt. It’s a matter of time, at this point. You’d like to extract at least one, genuine conversation. Absolutely anything before he disappears forever.

That isn’t seeming very likely.

Your eyes drift around the yard, welling with tears not of sadness, but frustration. This is it? You are to become an orphan, the world is ending, and your piece-of-shit father won’t even look at you? In this moment, you wished he was angry.

You wished he would yell at you.

Pin you against the wall by your neck.

Bruise you. Beat you.

Anything other than this.

“I made the baseball team.” You tell him, another futile attempt to elicit any sort of reaction. Pride, maybe. Congratulate his young daughter for her achievement. Even the smallest hint of recognition would go a long way, pull you from this spiral you’ve begun to succumb to.

And what does he do?

He scoffs.

His arm lifts, taking another swig of the near empty bottle.

Finally, you’ve gotten your sign. A signal, a hint. The divine intervention that sets everything straight, reminds you of your place in this world. Just enough attention to keep you subdued, but satisfied. Complacent.

Anger overtakes you before you’re even aware of these emotions, wielding a surprising amount of strength for a pre-pubescent girl. You want to scream and shout and hurt him.

So you do.

It’s a knee-jerk reaction, really. Unplanned, messily executed. But would you have done it again? Certainly.

You cannot feel remorse for causing pain to a man who’s soul died long ago. Died with your mother, died with your infant sister. Tried to kill yours along with it all.

It’s already happened before you can understand.

There’s a distinct soreness in your shoulder, strained from swinging the metal baseball bat with such force. There are little blisters forming on your palms from how tight you’re gripping, clawing, clenching around the handle. The movement has shifted your whole body, but you don’t look down.

You don’t acknowledge the mess you’ve made.

Blood splattered across the wooden porch, some even hitting the adjacent fence. Skull broken, concave. Oozing sticky red.

The glass bottle rolls down the steps. Clink, clink, clink. It hits the plush grass, silenced.

It was inevitable, anyway. Whether to the virus, or your own hands, your father was going to die.

It was a mercy-kill, at best.

Vengeance at worst.

But that didn’t matter anymore, because when you turned around, he was there.

Negan.

Standing in the kitchen, watching you through the open door. He didn’t appear horrified, or disgusted. Maybe unsettled, sure. There was a darkness within you that he recognised, understood. Sure, he didn’t put it there, but over the years he would cultivate it, guide you. Raise you as somebody who would never be taken advantage of again.

Untouchable.

[lunajay33]

Masterlist

Fluff>☆ Angst>꩜ Spicy>ꨄ︎ Suggestive>❀

Daryl Dixon🏹

{Pre-Apocalypse}

Best Friend> ☆

Not the Only One> ꩜

Not the Only One Part.2> ꩜☆

{Season 1}

Connection> ☆

Always You> ☆

Conflict> ☆

My Before> ☆

Found You> ☆

{Farm Era}

Hurt Part.1> ꩜ ☆

Hurt Part.2> ꩜ ☆

Hurt Part.3> ꩜ ☆

Sleepover> ☆

Never Be Alone> ☆

Missing> ꩜☆

Precious> ☆

My Man> ꨄ︎

{Prison Era}

Jealous> ꩜ ☆

Prison Attack> ꩜ ☆

Brother Trouble> ꩜ ☆

Cold Nights> ☆

Pain Reliever> ☆

Caught> ꨄ︎

Scared & Sick> ☆

Scared & Sick Pt.2>꩜☆

Both> ꨄ︎+ Rick

Both Part.2> ꨄ︎☆

Migraine> ꩜☆

Searching> ꩜☆

Puppy Love> ☆

{Terminus Era}

Tired> ꩜ ☆

Reunion> ꩜

Peach> ☆

Hurting> ꩜☆

Finding You> ꩜☆

{Alexandria Era}

Home> ☆

The Quiet One> ☆

Ready> ☆

First Time> ☆ ❀

Dreams> ☆ ❀

Touch Starved> ☆❀

{Saviours Era}

Hope Part.1> ꩜ ☆

Hope Part.2> ꩜ ☆

Hope Part.3> ꩜ ☆

Hope Part.4> ☆

The Day Will Come> ꩜

{Series}

New world-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4•Part.5ꨄ︎•Part.6•Part.7•Part.8•Part.9•Part.10•Part.11•

Part.12•Part.13•Part.14

Enjoy the Silence-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4 Completed

Change-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4•Part.5•

Part.6•Part.7 continue part on Masterlist 2.0

Carl Grimes

{Alexandria Era}

Blooming> ☆

Caught>☆❀

Not Enough?>꩜☆

Other Half> ꩜

Ride the Cowboy> ꨄ︎☆

Insecure> ꩜☆❀

Been Waiting> ☆

{Series}

Just Us-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4•Part.5

Rick Grimes

{Farm Era}

Glances> ꨄ︎

{Prison Era}

Both> ꨄ︎ +Daryl

Both Part.2>ꨄ︎☆

Worry> ꩜☆

Negan Smith

{Saviours Era}

The One> ☆❀

{Cowboy Negan}

Save a Horse> ꨄ︎

Taste for Older Men> ꩜☆

Taste for Older Men Part.2> ☆

{Coach Negan}

Forbidden> ꨄ︎

{Series}

Lost-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4

Supernatural🦇

{All 3 Winchesters}

Guardian> ꩜☆

Mothers Daughter> ꩜☆

Terror> ꩜

{Castiel}

I’ll Be There> ☆

Mastelist 2.0🤍

[norman-fucking-reedus]

GROWN UPS 💋 (18+)

summary: “Ya’ really think tha’ bothers me? ‘M a grown ass man, woman. Ain’t ever afraid of a lil’ hair”

era: pre-negan alexandria

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slightly submissive daryl x female reader (the juicy shit: unprotected sex, rough sex, riding, biting, choking, hair pulling, pet names (Darling, sugar, allthat), cunnalings, cumming untouched)

Disclaimer(s): This is not only my first tumblr post, this is my first x reader so forgive me if its bad </3

Considering that I am a black writer I want everyone to be included in the wonderous x reader experience which is why I have some drafts with neutral appearances and plus size so stay tuned if youre interested babe <3

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“Hold on there, big guy. Take your shoes off” A giggle rested on your lips as you watched Daryl huff and haphazardly toe his boots off, keeping his hands firm on your hips. As soon as his socked feet were on the ground, his lips landed back on top of yours, licking deep into your mouth.

He had been out on a run for what felt like weeks, even though it was only a few days. After dropping off his findings to Rick, he went straight to find you.

Daryl’s hands roamed and groped your body like a starved man, grunting and moaning into your mouth. He had you pinned right against the wall in the living room, pressing your bodies as closely together as he could.

He practically had you trapped there, holding you in place as his kiss-swollen lips began sucking and biting at your exposed throat, pulling breathy moans from your chest. One of his strong hands slid up your shirt to grab a handful of boob, which he squeezed through your lacey bra.

You so badly wanted to take this session upstairs where you know you’ll get your core guts rearranged, however for the past few days you’ve been having a small insecurity, and that was your recent lack of shaving.

Even though you are in the middle of an apocalypse and razors have become a lot more scarce, it still made you feel a little bad about yourself, considering you did have thicker hair down there. As these negative thoughts began to cloud your mind, you started to get turned off, absent mindedly humming under your boyfriend’s touch. You didn’t want him to think that you were gross.

He took note of this and withdrew his hand from under your shirt, and brought it up to your face, redirecting your focus onto his face. “Ya’ alright there, plum?” Part of you wanted to say yes, but your head was already shaking no. “I’m sorry it’s just…” His blue eyes stared into yours, patiently waiting for your response. “I haven’t been able to shave in a while” You mumbled, tearing your eyes away to try to ease your embarrassment.

After a few moments of silence, Daryl scoffed, as if he just processed that you were being serious. He stared at your face for what felt like forever until he finally tilted your head back to look at him, studying your face closely. “Ya’ really think tha’ bothers me? ‘M a grown ass man, woman. Ain’t ever afraid of a lil’ hair” His voice was raspy and dark as he spoke, and oh, how you loved yourself a bold man.

His words shot straight down your core and to your cunt, which had begun to throb again. With his words still fresh in your head, you pulled him by the collar up the stairs to your room, where you would get exactly what you wanted.

You swung your door open and slammed it shut, giggles and moans falling from your lips as Daryl scooped you up and dropped you onto the bed, ready to continue his earlier attacks on your body. This time around, he took your shirt completely off, frowning at your bra. “Quit pouting. Help get my pants off and I’ll undo my bra” You spoke as you readjusted yourself to grab at the hooks, while Daryl tore your pants off your long legs, hands immediately going for your underwear. “Nope. Your mouth is gonna be real busy tonight, since you’re such a man” Daryl smirked as he settled his hands obediently on your hips before he hooked his teeth onto the waistband of your panties and pulled them down, taking them out his mouth and stuffing them in his back pocket. “Fer later” He said as he looked at the amused look on your face. “I’m confused why you’re talking and not eating me out” Daryl licked his lips as he pulled your legs further apart, eyeing your hairy cunt for a bit longer than you’d like. He on the other hand was enjoying the amazing view.

He tightly gripped your hips and pulled them upwards, giving your clit a wet lick as he deeply inhaled your natural scent. It was so intoxicating to him as he really started to go down, licking and sucking at your clit. His spit trickled down and mixed with your slick, and he began to tease your fluttering hole with his finger. Your bottom lip was caught harshly between your teeth, as moans rumbled from your chest, some being a little higher than others. You moaned especially loud when two thick fingers began sliding in and out of you, curling into your sweet spot and scissoring open.

Daryl himself was painfully hard in his pants and had been working up to his own orgasm, as he literally couldn’t get enough of you. The feel of your skin under his burning palm, the taste of your wet cunt on his tongue, cheeks turning red from a combination of pleasure, and your pubic hair rubbing against him. It was so overwhelming for him, as his dick twitched harshly in his pants. Pathetically, he began to grind down on the mattress, groaning erotically against you as he did. Your plump thighs tightened around his head when his relentless attack on your clit became stronger, his tongue hardening up against the bundle of nerves. “Fuck my baby that feels so good” Your fingers tangled in his brown locks, tugging at his scalp in a way you knew he liked.

Little did you know your short tugs would throw him over the edge, body trembling roughly as his cock throbbed in its confinement, shooting ropes of cum in his boxers. His moans vibrated against you, and you could feel yourself nearing the edge, unaware of your boyfriend's situation. You had started to grind down on his tongue and fingers, legs tightening and shaking as you climbed to your peak, moaning lewdly when you tumbled over.

Daryl pulled off you, and his face was a wet deep red mess. His hair was disheveled and your eyes landed on the dark spot in the front of his jeans. “Would you like some help with that sweetheart? How pathetic that you came from only eating me out” You tugged him forward by his vest collar, which you prompted him to take off. Your hands moved to unbuckle his pants as he leaned down to kiss you, the taste of yourself still lingering heavy on his tongue. You tossed the belt onto the floor and yanked at his pants. “Are ya tha eager ta see me naked, darlin?” A smug smile landed on his face as he kicked the offending piece of fabric off, spoiled underwear following suit.

When your eyes landed on his thick cock, engorged tip looking just so damn sensitive, you nodded your head as your dark gaze stared into his. “Get on your back” You placed your hands on his shoulders as you rolled him over, straddling his strong hips and leaning over the bed to snatch his belt up. “Hands.” You snapped the leather in your hands, staring down into his core. Holy hell did he love it. He loved the feeling of you tightening his own belt around his wrists and pinning them above the headboard by wrapping the extra leather around a post. He was an absolute sight for only you.

Your mouth watered as you stared down at your man, who was on complete display for you to gawk at, as you ran a lean hand up his chest, capturing his lips in yours before slamming down onto his cock, high gasp coming from him as his swollen tip bumped your cervix suddenly. You were only getting started as you placed both hands on his chest, grinding your hips skillfully and bouncing steeply, pulling yourself back down when he was only halfway out.

It drove you both crazy, Daryl even more so as you kept saying dirty things to him in an alluring tone. He had a brief thought that you were some type of sex demon attempting to fuck his soul out, which it was definitely working.

Daryl couldn’t keep his head up to watch the pornographic way you were riding him, his hands had began to tug at their restraint.

“Does that feel good baby? I wish you would look at me so I can tell” He whimpered in response, eyes rolling back when you increased your pace. Your fingers traveled up into the front of his hair, which you tugged forward to raise his head. The action went straight to his dick. Your fingers trailed out his hair and down his face, back down his chest.

“Keep your eyes on me, my sweet. Do you feel good?” You tilted your head as you ground your hips down, his dick blissfully bumping your sweet spot. “S’ so good, please let me touch you, sugar, please?” His voice sounded weak and pathetic to his own ears, but it went straight to your cunt, a smile creeping on your lips. “Earn it. My poor legs are tired.” You cooed, making a pouty face at him as you rocked slowly back and forth. “Gonna pound ya’ from underneath, ‘mma make ya’ feel real good” His senseless babbling encited a moan from you, especially when he planted his feet on the bed and lifted his hips, immediately started a rough pace.

He was so desperate to fuck the shit out of you. As he panted heavily, watching intently as he quickly slid in and out of you. He had been so focused that he didn’t feel you undoing his restraints until his hands were guided to fat hips which he gripped tightly and flipped you onto your stomach, lifting your hips up before ramming back in, one hand going up the headboard to steady himself. Even with the position he had you in he still felt compelled to do what you say, deep whimpers falling each time his sensitive tip roughly bumped inside you.

From where his hand was on the headboard, it had began to slam into the wall at the same harsh pace as his hips, which he angled up to hit your sweet spot and slide that much deeper. Fuck, he was starting to become dizzy with pleasure. Your erotic moans filled his ear as he leaned down over you, burying his face in your neck to inhale your strong smell, somehow increasing his pace. “Daryl baby I’m so close… you make me feel so fucking good” You mumbled into the comforter, the hot sounds of your boyfriend’s breath and the banging headboard filling your ears. A calloused finger trailed down your stomach and rubbed your clit in quick circles, Daryl’s strained voice right in your ear. “Cum fer me, darlin’ please let me make you feel real good, fuck- please” You could tell he was much closer to the edge than you, his voice had raised by an octave, his strokes had gotten short yet stronger, and he was practically panting like a dog. You reached a hand back and yanked his hair harder than you intended, crashing your lips together. You felt your body shake as Daryl’s strokes had become sloppy as his second orgasm hit him like a fucking truck. It was so strong that he couldn’t help but pull away and release a harsh whine that burned in his chest. Your own release had you pulling Daryl back down for a kiss, harshly biting his bottom lip. His finger slowed to a stop on your overly sensitive clit.

When you pulled away, it felt like you couldn’t get enough oxygen, breathing heavily as Daryl rolled onto his back, groaning as he pulled his soft cock out. Your hips landed on the fluffy comforter and Daryl’s cum had started to leak out of you, heating your sweaty face a little more.

After a few minutes, you felt soft lips on your back and a warm towel between your legs, followed by Daryl climbing back into bed and pulling the covers over you, wrapping big arms around your lower back as he pulled you closer. Laughter rose from your chest as he peppered you with kisses. “Told ya’ ‘m a man” He mumbled sleepily, and you scoffed. “My big strong adult man” You kissed his chest, and he hummed, already falling asleep. In the back of your head, you made a mental note to check the damage that was done to the wall in the morning.

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A/N: this was way longer than i intended it to be but i hope y’all enjoyed!! <33

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[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (PartXXXIII)

XXXIII. We are on easy street

MASTERLIST

Summary: And it feels so sweet…

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, cursing, death of a secondary character, description of torture and beatings, doogfood sandwiches are a treat, might miss some important warnings, but you know what this is about

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Another song as a title, anways, in this chapter, what happened to Daryl in the series happens here, so... brace yourselves. this hcapter has a whole dialogue pulled fromt he script of the chapter, but edited slightly for our convenience

You were shaking, seating in the porsche of Deanna’s house, rubbing your temples, your elbows on your knees

You heard a door behind you and Rick and Michone came out, just a look and you knew what happened

“She’s gone”, he said gently.

Heart attack

After she witnessed her son being brutally murdered Deanna started clutching her chest, it turns out it wasn’t just grief and shock

Many Alexandrians were there, wide eyed and pointing, you saw many tears, she had fought through the night, but you were in the middle of a goddamn apocalypse, you didn’t have much means to reanimate her, despite Denise almost breaking her arms trying to do reanimation for most of the morning

“Meeting in the church in ten minutes”, he dictated 

“Rick!?”, you called, he immediately turned around and turned to you, “where’s everyone?”, you asked him

“Maggie, Glenn and Beth stayed at the Hilltop, in hopes of convincing Gregory to fight with us”, he said softly, “Carol and Morgan stayed at this placed called the Kingdom”, he muttered, “We fought some people on the way there, Carol was injured and she stayed there, for safety”, you barely nodded

“So everyone’s ok?”, you asked him

“They are” , he assured you, he kept looking down at you, “We are going to get him back”, he assured you

“How?”, you asked him, “you know what they did to me, imagine what they are going to do to him… a man… and a wild one at that”, you said. He nodded, and walked away from you without an answer

Daryl

They took him from you and you couldn’t do anything about it

Alexander was MIA

There was no way you could take them

You were screwed

So you dragged your feet all the way to the church, you were… tired, defeated, scared, sad… frightened more than anything and just plain fucked

Daryl…

You needed to go to him, find him, beg Negan or whatever, take him back, but as you were now, you couldn’t even open the gates to let yourself in, you really were just plain tired… destroyed more likely. 

But Daryl

Being at the church, or at Alexandria at all without the archer felt so foreign to you right now, and you couldn’t help but torment yourself with the memories of the last time you saw him, pre-conquering of Alexandria, that he wanted to give you something, that he was going to come back to you.

What could you have possibly done to prevent this? could you have stopped it?

Did fight hard enough for him?

You sat on the first bench, on the same side as always, as you waited for everyone to enter the church. They all looked like they just had been told Santa didn’t exist anymore, that their idyllic lifestyle had been a gift, and that gift just expired

Once you were all inside the church, Rick started

“Deanna is gone, heartattack”, he started strong right off. He waited for the murmurs and gaps to dissipate before he continued, “Now, most of you were out there last night, we need to discuss how to proceed… how things are gonna go from now on”

“What do you mean?”, asked someone

“We work for Negan now”, he said, “he wants half of everything we have, and once a month, he will want a tribute”

“What kind of tribute?”, asked another

“Whatever we can get, and he doesn’t’ like it… he will kill one of our people”, he said

“We can’t live like that!”

“We have to”, he said, “we got off easy, you saw what happened last night! how easily he just went in, how many there are!”, he said, “and they have our people! they have Daryl… he took Rosita and Sasha”

Since the Green/Rhee weren’t here, Negan took exactly the exact people to literally grab you by the metaphorical balls. With Daryl in his power he knew you and Carol were tied, with Rosita, he held Alexander (as new as it was), and Eugene and Abraham, and with Sasha he double tied the third most dangerous person here. And with all three he had Rick and Michonne.

He took a lot of firepower, some of the strongest members of your group.

He took your Daryl. 

“I will find Alexander”, you said out loud, “with him, we can plan something, I know the Sanctuary, we can get them back…”

“You can’t go in wild goose chase”, said Rick

“What? a wild goose chase?”, you asked him, enraged

“We need you here, to join the scavenging team, what you did in DC, we need you to do that again”, he said, “they’ll come back soon, if we have a good tribute to them, something better than we have, they’ll go easy on us…”

“Yeah, Daryl is gone!”, you said, “so is Alexander, AND ROSITA, three important members of my team”, you said then. “And going to get Daryl is not a wild goose chase!”, you said angrily, he sighed loudly

“I know, i didn’t mean it like that”, he said softly, “what I meant is that if we play by Negan’s rules, we might be able to get him back more easily, than if we don’t”, he said, and you nodded, it made sense.

You had talked to him, Negan, he knew, because of what you talked about that night, he believed to treat you more fairly, so you won’t rebel against him, maybe Rick was right, maybe if you find something really good for them, maybe he’ll let Daryl come back to you.

“I’ll go with you”, assured Tara, who, to this moment, you had barely registered, she had been here last night, with Denise. She had been so dedicated to her blooming relationship with her that you had barely seen her these last days. 

“Mee too”, said Abraham

“What about the walkers in the quarry?”, asked another

Good fucking point

Rick sighed again

“We need to find Alexander”, he admitted, defeated. 

You needed coercion to finally get some hours of sleep, and food, and then you were finally allowed to leave Alexandria in the search of Alexander

He had left on foot

You found him on the third day, in the barn where he had left the HUMVEE, you didn’t think of checking that place first, a couple of miles out of Alexandria on a farm. He pulled a gun on you, but that wasn’t surprising. He stopped it as soon as he recognized you

“Are you alright?”, he was a military man, he had been in Afghanistan, he had always got a escape plan, and he had saves supplies and canned goods there, in that barn

“Yeah”

“Negan wants to kill you”, you said

“I’d gather”

“You did well on running, but now, Spencer is dead, Deanna too, heart attack, and we are fucked”, you said, “they took Daryl, and Rosita and Sasha, its a matter of time before they take or kill someone else”, you said confidently, “they want half of everything we manage to make, steal or scavenge”

“What does Rick want to do?”, He asked

“We have to take care of the walkers on the pit”, you said quickly, “it’s just a matter of time before that truck slips and they get free, and the saviors will come back to Alexandria any day now”

Without Rosita and without Alex being safe in Alexandria, you were completely screwed if you wanted to handle the explosions you found. 

You took an Alexandria car back to town with the explosives inside, Alex had given you an instruction to handle them, you were going to blow everyone up, without Rosita. 

You got back to Alexandria at noon, alone, armed to the teeth, but as you signaled the men inside to open the gate, your mouth opened wide when you saw Gary at the gates, opening it for you

Once he did he revealed the trucks inside, you only could fully grasp it, they were here

The saviors were here. 

You barely got inside with car and all when Gary opened the door of the car for you, as two other saviors started registering the car

“Hey little lady”, he greeted

“Traitor”, you greeted back, he only laughed

“Come on, don’t be so hard on me”, he said lightly, his demeanor told you he was no good intentions towards you

“The trunk is filled with explosives”, said one, alarmed, you weren’t even fazed

“And why’s that?”, he asked you, he took a step forwards, eliminating the space between you, making you take a step back and hit the side of the car

“You know we have a quarry full of walkers a couple of miles west”, you told him, “we need to take care of that”, you said severely

“Where’s Alexander?”, he asked then

“I have been looking for him for three days, couldn’t find him” you said, bored 

“Uh but you found explosives?”, he asked then

“We were keeping the out of the walls, for safety”, you explained quickly

“And what were you gonna do with all this dynamite? uh little lady?”, asked a guy that had an unfortunate looking face, he hadn't heard the conversation between you and Gary

“Shove it up your ass”, you answered bluntly with a cynical smile, “to see if your insides are as thick as your head”, his own wiping off of his face. You had no time nor patience for these clowns. You heard the other saviors laugh 

“What?”, oh he was gonna punch you, but Gary stopped him

“Davey, leave her alone”, he warned, “our boss had been waiting for this one”, he said, Gary singaled you to walk in front of him, as the other saviors took the crates of dynamite

He led you back to the armory, where Rick was looking dreadful as Negan was loading all our guns into a truck

“She’s here”, Gary announced as Negan finally turned to you.

“Hey! you joined the party! find anything…? HOLY SHIT!”, he laughed when he saw all the crates of dynamite, “darling you are a bomb! or a sex bomb?”, he rambled 

“You are killing us if you take our guns”, you told him, “we need to deal with the walkers on the pit”, you said, Rick looked at you with red eyes, like he was afraid or something

“I know darling, and you don’t have to worry about a thing!”, he said loudly.

You looked at the person that was coming out of the armory, and your breath got caught in your throat when you saw Daryl, dressed in a two piece dirty suit, barefoot, sweaty and beaten up

“DARYL!”, you said loudly, ready to go to him, but Negan stepped forwards, making you bump into him, preventing you from doing it

“Nope!”, he said quickly, “he is here as the help, you don’t talk to him, you don’t touch him darling”, you looked at Daryl over his shoulder, he looked back at you with teary eyes for merely seconds to then kept doing what he was doing

“What are you doing to him?”, you asked him, “leave him alone!”, you demanded, looking back at Negan angrily

“Oh darling, Daryl here is just refusing to come to the reality that he cannot get away from me, and neither can you”, he said, “he will soon though, if he knows what’s good for him, so if you want to keep him whole, you won’t talk to him, you won’t touch him, you won’t even talk to him, am I clear?”, you stopped looking at Daryl to look back at Negan, he was smiling at you

You didn’t answer as you searched for the eyes of Rick, who looked like he was embarrassed

“Rick…”, you called

“Please”, your leader begged you back

“DO SOMETHING!”, you screamed, he only shook his head

“Oh darling, see, that’s why I took Daryl and not him, Rick is a little bitch”, said Negan, you looked back at him, “my little bitch”, he said then, “but Daryl there, can be my top dog”, you released a long breath you didn’t know you were holding

“If you kill him…”, you warned

“I’d think very carefully of what your next words are going to be if I were you”, he said severely, not any trace of playfulness out of his face, “I don’t do threats darling”, he said, “you are already getting a nice treatment, me… not killing many of you, taking hostages instead… it's nice treatment, something new I’m trying here, help me prove this method it's going to work”, he ‘invited’, you looked back at Daryl and he was looking back at you with a plead in his eyes

“Fine, Negan”, you said, looking back at him, making him smile again, “I’m sorry, you had make yourself perfectly clear”, he chuckled

“That’s perfect darling, exactly what I like”, he said, “I’m pleased, so pleased, I’m going to take care of the little problem you guys have”, he said simply

“He will let us keep one gun for each person”, said Rick like it was the deal of the century. You smiled at Negan

“Thank you for your kindness”, you said and he laughed

“That’s a good girl”, he said. “now pick yours”, he said

“The RPG”, you said simply, he chuckled

“The mere thought of you holding that thing makes me tingle”, he whispered, leaning into you again, “a hot woman with a powerful weapon”, he said raising his eyebrows teasingly, “but alas, I advise you against it”, you grabbed your gun from your belt, the one you had retrieved from the ground that fatidic night and showed it to him, “fun”, he said only, nodding 

Maybe you should have picked one of the assault rifles with a scope and silencer, but you decided against it, the gun was more malleable, hideable, besides, you had a couple of assault rifles outside of the gates. 

You were made, -as was Rick-, to stand there and watch how they the guns and some supplies from you, but he didn’t got into the houses as he threatened to do

He sent a whole group of saviors to the quarry, to do a full report. 

You appreciated the fact that he commanded Arat to be out of your sight, as he knew you clearly hated her guts and almost chopped her head off with your ax in front of everyone. You tried to be on your best behavior, as they took meds, your guns, leaving your personal effects intact.

And finally, after tortuous hours later, he guided you to the gates, Rick and you following him like two dogs. Daryl following closely behind you, being led by Dwight 

“Now that you know we can… be complaint”, said Rick, looking up at Negan, and then at you

“Yes…?”, he asked

“I wanted to ask you, if we could see Sasha and Rosita”, he said slowly

“That’s not gonna happen today”, he said simply

“What about Daryl? could he stay?”, he asked then

“NOPE!”, he said quickly, “not gonna happen”, Negan then turned to you

“Can I at least talk to him?”, you asked him, he seemed to think about it

“I’ll make you a deal”, he said finally, “everything you want to say and do to Daryl, you have to say it and do it to me first”, he said with a shit eating grin, you looked back at him with a frown

“What?”, you asked him, confused

“Yeah, for example, if you want some… you know… a conjugal visit, you can, well, take me for a spin first”, he winked at you, “they all can wait”, you slapped him, you didn’t even think about it, but it wasn’t a hard slap, more like, a bitch slap

This could cost you and you reacted accordingly, grabbing your own guilty hand, in mere seconds, scared of how he was going to react, but as he turned back his face, he was smiling, deadass smiling with a big grin.

“Oh darling”, he teased, “I’m even more attracted to you right now, if that’s even possible”, you just rolled your eyes. But as your eyes turned to Daryl right behind Negan being grabbed tightly by Dwight, you thought twice about it

You wanted to comfort him. 

Minutes lingered in which Negan kept his eyes and mocking grin towards you, you then took a long sigh and turned to him again

“Does the deal still stand?”, you asked, and then he deadass smiled

“Whatever you want to do to Daryl, you have to do it to me too first”, he said, “that included talking darling”

You were not gonna fuck him, but… you still wanted to comfort Daryl, he needed it, you needed it. You took a big sigh and shook your hands, that were shaking.

Everyone was looking at you, all of them, the saviors were staring with mocking grins on their faces, but you did it anyway. 

He let you wrap your hands around his shoulders, even though he was taller than you. You kissed his cheek quickly

“Anything you wanna say darling?”, he teased loudly

“I love you, and remember we are here waiting for you”, you said bluntly and quickly, whispering in his ear. You released him as he burned you

“SO SWEET!”, he said out loud. He looked back at you and nodded, then looked at Daryl. You turned and run to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly, you kissed his face longingly, he hugged you back tightly

“I love you”, you said

“I love ya too”, he said with a choked voice

“Remember we are here, waiting for you”, you said, he nodded, hiding his face on your neck, you felt him take a deep breath, breathing you in. 

“That’s enough!”, said Negan, Dwight pulled him by the handle his suit had, and Negan grabbed your shoulder and pulled you backwards. “Well, Rick, let’s get our business done, shall we? just you”, he said, “the rest of Alexandria will stay here until your return, we will take care of your walkers, or any walkers to come, and you will work for me”, he said loudly, for everybody to hear

Rick only nodded, and got into a truck behind Negan.

Dwight pushed Daryl until he got him inside a truck, you shared last looks, and they left, again, taking your heart with them. 

The majority of the saviors left

And you felt left out, you wanted to see how they got rid of them, with explosions and guns, but a couple of saviors stayed, guarding the gates.

That guy that was called Davey or whatever kept looking at you, making your skin crawl.

Tara came to you at the gates

“Everything alright?”, you asked her

“They took a lot of meds”, she said sadly, “but at least nobody else died, right?

“Yeah, you could say that”, you muttered sadly, you walked back with her to the house. Your mind racing

When are you going to see Daryl again? What could you possibly do to get him back? this ‘agreement’ didn’t look like it had an end date, a way to negotiate, what could you give to Negan for the release of Daryl? What could you do to get Rosita and Sasha back?

“They beat up Abraham pretty bad”, she told you, “before you came back”

“Is he alright?”, you asked her

“He will be”, she said firmly, so you went with her to visit him.

You spend the afternoon putting order in Alexandria, frequently listening to explosions happening a few miles back, at the pit

At the end of the day, they brought Rick back, with a scared look on his face, and the announcement that the walkers… were all gone, every single one of them.

You didn’t know what to feel.

Although you could say… you felt pretty powerless 

He returned from Alexandria with a knot on his throat, as Dwight pushed him back into his cell, the only thing he could see in the darkness was you, pressed against Negan as you kissed him on the cheek.

The very thought made him shiver. 

With nightmares clouding his mind, he tried to sleep.

He whimpered when he heard that damn song, again, not letting him bat an eye, not get a minute of peace

We are on easy street

And it feels so sweet

The song ended and the door opened, like clockwork, Dwight entered with his dogfood sandwich

“Had you thought about my proposal?”, he asked

“I ain't ‘ever gonna kneel”, he said quickly

“You sure?”, he asked, with a mocking grin on his face, “I found something in your jacket that says otherwise”, Daryl just looked at him, and almost jumped to attack him with Dwight showed him the little box he knew all too well 

“Screw ya”, he mumbled, “don’ touch tha”

“I would say it if I were you”, he said, placing the box back inside his jacket, “you know I did, and you… have so much to lose than I did, you have your girl, and you also have a family, make it easy on yourself, on them…”, Daryl just looked up at him, “you know what he can do to them”, then the blonde let him out and lead him through the hallways

Have you stayed in one of those cells? Have you walked this walk? barefoot like he was now?

You had, he knew you did

How did you manage to stay whole?

He admired you now more than he ever did

This was his third day here, he had been checked by a doctor, he had seen what Sherry was now, and he had been tortured, sleep deprived and fed with dog-food sandwiches. They took him to Alexandria, to further his torment, he hadn't seen Sasha or Rosita, but he guessed they weren’t better off, and he had been there when Abraham demanded to see them, and they beat him up at the very gates. 

“Step in”, Dwight pushed him into a room, a comfortable looking room, where Negan was, waiting for him sitting on a leather couch

“Ahh Jesus, you look awful!”, Negan mocked, “you thirsty?”, Daryl barely nodded, at the prospect of being mocked and not given any, but Negan stood up and offered him a glass of water. But he had trouble drinking it, “Uh I forgot, you got your mouth all fucked up like a babboon’s ass, D get him a straw, what’s wrong with you?”, he asked him.

Dwight ran to fulfill his order, looking for a straw in the made kitchen there until he found one, and gave it to Daryl, who sipped on the water quickly, he was thirsty, very much so 

“See that guy? He hustles. I like hustle”, admired Negan, looking at Dwight come and go, “but believe it or not, things weren't always cool between us. See, D here… he worked for points, him and his super hot wife and her super hot sister. But, see, sis… she needed meds. And that shit is hard to scavenge, so it costs more…”, he started telling the tale, Daryl just stood there, watching him  silently, “...Sis fell behind on points, so I asked her to marry me. Told her I would take care of her in sickness and in health, blah blah blah, because I am a stand-up guy”, his eyes never strayed from Daryl, not even for a second

“She tells me that she's gonna think about it… Next thing you know, I'm dealing with an orange situation. Dwighty-boy here stole all the medication and took off with his super hot wife and my super hot maybe soon-to-be fiancée!”, he makes Lucille tap on the floor, making both men jump a bit,  “So I had to send my guys after him, because I can't let something like that stand. There...are...rules”, he said emphatically, “cost me an arm and a leg going after him… and you know what… Dwighty boy?”, he smiled even more, chuckling “He still got away…”

Daryl knows that part, he was the one that helped him escape 

“But here's the thing. D.. he saw the light. He manned up. He came back. He asked for my forgiveness. I like that. Made me... take notice. But Lucille... Well...you know how she is. She is a stickler for the rules. So, Dwight... he begged me not to kill Sherry, which I thought was kind of cute, so I was just gonna kill him. But then Sherry says that she will marry me if I let Dwight live, which, if you think about it, that's a pretty screwed-up deal, 'cause I was gonna marry her sister until she wound up dead, but... Sherry is super hot”.

Daryl then looked at Dwight, that looked like he was about to start crying any second now

“Anyways, it was a start, but it wasn't enough, so Dwight... he got the iron. And then I married his super hot wife… Ex-wife. And then after all that, he still got on board! And now look at him. Pow! One of my top guys. And we are totally cool”, they were not cool, Daryl thought, Dwight was miserable. “The point being, I think you can be that guy”, he said, placing a hand on his chest, “I think you are ready to be that guy….”, he then turned to the room around. “I believe you can be one of my top guys… and my top guys? well… they live like Kings!”, he said quickly… “you saw, our toys, our women… When you work for me, any of those fine ladies could be yours, of course, as long as they say yes”, he said

“Not interested”, he said grumpily, looking at the floor in front of him. Of course, Negan knew why, but he still wanted to trial him. 

“Oh right”, muttered Negan, “you already got a lady”, he teased, “you might be an asshole, Daryl, but you’ve got a fine taste in women”, he said, “damn that girl is a minx, did you know that when she was here, she beat up several of my men? including Simon, they say she made his head ring like a freaking bong! and Fat Joey there was wearing a footprint on his fat face for like a week!”, he was pleased now, he looked around the room and spread his arms, “you know Daryl? all of this could be yours, you could actually bring in that pretty little number of yours, have her here… did you ask her to be your wife yet?”, Dwight then reached into the pocket of Daryl vest he was wearing

“Hey… don’t!”, Daryl protested, but he gave it to Negan

Dwight grabbed onto Daryl’s vest, Letting Negan take a couple of steps back to see the insides of the box

“Oh… no… this is for her?”, he asked, “so you haven’t asked her yet… she still isn’t your wife”, he said with a wide smile. He then looked at Daryl, with a look that was borderline sadistic, “maybe I will ask her… yeah, that would be fun, having her here…”

“No”, he said quickly

“She will come here”, he promised, “hell, I will go and get her myself right now, the question is… will she come here to keep your bed warm and your cock wet… or my bed warm and my big fat cock wet?”

“Leave ‘er out of this”, he said, his voice was rough, but Negan was thrilled on the begging he saw on his sharp little eyes. 

“She will do it, you know she will”, he whispered in his ear, “I’ll go to Alexandria and I will tell her… that I will chop up pieces of you if she doesn’t agree to marry me, you know she will say yes… she is nice like that”, he muttered

“Don’t”, Negan chuckled when he heard a bit of begging in his voice

“Very easy then, say it… and she will come here as your wife”

Daryl looked at him, with horror in his eyes, he remembered what he saw, with Sherry, a couple of days back, clear as day, that pregnancy test on that medical table. Negan was going to do to the both of you the same he had done with Dwight and Sherry. He was going to make you his wife, and after that he was going to make you have sex with him, he could just easily get you pregnant, he could knock you up on a whim, just to get back at him.

The very thought repulsed him. The thought of you with someone else's child in your belly, you being coerced into having sex with someone you didn’t want to, just to protect him.  

But that’s not all Negan could do to you, he could humiliate you in front of all the saviors, just to prove a point, he could burn you again, torture you like he did him, and you too, make you work for him for points, and you were not gonna bend, not for long, he could end up killing you, and make him watch your walker self strapped to the fence. 

He couldn't bear it, the mere thought made him tremble 

He had to do it, for you, because of you. At the end of the day, he understood Dwight, he did, he had Sherry, and Daryl had you… so he swallowed his own words, he cleared his throat, and he raised his eyes to look Negan on the face.

“I’m Negan”, he muttered. 

PCN: I feel guilty because of how much I enjoyed writting this chapter!

taglsit! @crazyunsexycool @capricxnt