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xwritingdixonx · 1 month ago

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The Lover and The Fool. | Daryl Dixon |

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Summary: As the communities struggle with a cold winter and a post-war world, they embark on help from a community unknown. And as fate decides it, Y/n and Daryl’s paths cross after thirteen years; forcing them to confront the memories and unresolved feelings of what once was.

Warnings: language, angst, arguing, sexual innuendos, situationship, slight smut, haunting the narrative, death

Word Count: aprox. 8k

Era: pre-apocalypse, post Negan war

~Anything in italics is the past~

Tags: @negansbestie

Song Suggestions: Silver Springs - Fleetwood Mac, Do I Wanna Know - Hozier (Cover), We Hug Now - Sydney Rose, The Night We Met - Lord Huron

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The aftermath of war is nothing short of a struggle. Alexandria’s burnt houses, the Hilltop’s shrunken population, and the Kingdoms soiled crops were evident of this.

The pivotal members of these communities gathered in Hilltop, spewing ideas and plans of strengthening their own survival. “We’re just gonna have to start looking harder…scavenge every corner of every town we walk in.” Rick stated. Various maps of the surrounding states and cities. “We’ve already done that Rick…there’s nothing left. We’re gonna have to start traveling farther and farther.” Maggie argued in return, her arms comfortably crossed against her chest.

Rick sighed, looking down at the map of Virginia; counting the various towns marked off.

Jesus kept himself towards the corner of the room. He knew supplies were running low and the cold Virginia winter was proving difficult for new crops. The grounds were hard and frozen, the only rainfall passing through only froze the ground more. The sources of electricity had been damaged amid war [ yet to be fixed ] leaving no room for heat lamps to be of any benefit. He played with the glove on his hand knowing his suggestion wouldn’t be taken well. “I…I have a suggestion.” He finally spoke, all eyes on him.

He took a step forward, “There’s this community in Pennsylvania that is…vast and thriving.” Jesus took a seat beside Rick at the table. “We can ask them for help. For supplies and helping hands to rebuild but…” He paused reluctant to continue.

“But?” Michonne questioned.

“I don’t know if they actually will.”

Daryl scoffed from his stance by the window. "Sounds like a bunch of greedy assholes to me." He commented chewing on the nail of his thumb. Jesus sighed deeply before continuing to speak.

“Their leader is kind and charming but she angers quickly and is prone to a grudge..” As he spoke, he pulled the map of Pennsylvania in front of himself, circling a large area. "I can get her here to talk to you, Rick." Rick himself seemed uncertain. Half of it is from pride and the other half not so ready to trust a stranger.

"This can be something, Rick. A one-time thing that gets us back on our feet." Rick deeply signed, rubbing his chin.

"Alright."

The day lay still in wait for your arrival. Though your body itself was yet to be in Hilltop, your presence could be felt from miles away. Everyone on high alert in anticipation.

Ears perked on the guards on gate duty at the sound of engines grumbling. One car drove ahead, two motorcyclists trailing closely behind. Jesus was quick to be at the gates, knowing his face was the only one you’d recognize.

As the gates slid closed behind the vehicles now within the walls of Hilltop, you exited your vehicle. Jesus was happy to greet you, "Hi Y/n." You smiled at him, "Paul."

A sly smile formed on his face. You had no problem greeting him with open arms. "You got my message." Rick approached the two of you, trying to not interrupt the reunion. "This is Rick, Y/n." Rick reached a hand out to you.

You were gentle in your touch but your defense was on high. Rick saw this in the two men you'd brought along who looked happy to take care of anything thrown their way.

Rick immediately saw the ways you were better off than anyone else here. From the gloves on your hands to the coat on your back. The coat you wore looked handmade, sewn together from various types of black leather. The hood of the coat was lined with some type of animal fur to keep you warm.

“Would ya like anything? Water…liquor maybe?” You chuckled at Rick’s offering, knowing it was in good heart. “No I’m okay, thank you though.” A polite response to hide your own un-surety. You found your eyes wondering about the room examining every detail, having only seen this historical building from the outside. You don't think you'd ever been in a place so nice unless it was a museum.

"I understand how difficult this must be...to welcome someone into your home after your latest affairs." At the beginning of the savior problem, Jesus had reached out to you first. You'd only met each other a few months before when your groups ran into each other while traveling. When you'd declined, not willing to throw your community into an unavoidable war, Jesus turned to Rick.

"It's definitely not easy," Rick admitted "We had our fair share of protests from people." You nodded your head in understanding. “Where are you from? I feel like I hear some South in there.” Rick attempted to joke, seeming to lighten the mood. You chuckled at this, “I’m from Georgia actually, I came upstate years ago for school.”

The conversation continued smoothly having something to relate to the other on. You continued to speak on the rebuilding of Alexandria and helping the communities make it through the winter. Having seemed to of formed some type of bond; Rick still awaited your answer.

A knock sounded from the double doors, Jesus peaking his head through. Rick stood from his seat, "Everyone's here now, if it's a good time?" Jesus had a nervous smile on his face. Rick turned to you for approval, "There's some people I'd love for you to meet...if you're willing?" You responded with a nod of approval. People began to walk in one by one, Rick taking the liberty of introducing them.

“This is Maggie, she’s been running Hilltop in Gregory’s absence. And Michonne, we’ve been working together at Alexandria.” You gave polite smiles to the two women.

“And this is Aaron and Daryl. Two of our best scavengers…Daryl has been working with the saviors.”

You had to look at him twice, not recognizing him the first time. You had to look past the outgrown hair and newly found broad figure. Your heart began to race, your throat running dry, wishing you’d taken Rick's offer of water. You could feel the tenseness in your shoulders soften at his mere presence.

Daryl felt himself freeze, the air disappearing from his lungs.

Rick looked between the both of you, he himself falling silent. “Do you two know each other by chance?” He’d asked innocently. His words break the stare. “Yeah…we were uh..” Daryl couldn’t find the word to say what you were, “friends…long time ago.”

Daryl watched your face change, resorting to a cold glare. The feeling in the room became stiff, every wall seeming to close in. “Yeah, we were friends.” You added in spite. He expected it, how could he forget the terms you’d left things on thirteen years ago?

Awkwardness settled, covering the room like an extremely uncomfortable blanket.

“Y/n and myself were just discussing some things.” Rick attempted to continue the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Whatever kind words exchanged between Rick and you meant nothing now. Your mood had been spoiled. Your nerves were shot and your mind scrambled with thoughts. But still, you tried to keep your composure.

Daryl examined your features intentively. Your eyes looked tired, the youthful hope they once held was no longer.

And whether that was from surviving in a world so cruel or the years themselves, he could not tell. You had small scars on your face. One on the bridge of your nose, high cheekbone, eyebrow, and bottom lip; leaving him wondering who hurt you enough to leave such imperfections. Regardless of any flaws, you never shed your beauty. The same beauty that left him nervous and begging years ago.

He couldn't imagine the same for himself. With unruly, uncut hair, new scars all over his hands, and a solemn attitude, he wasn't much to look at anymore. This world had hardened both of you. Burning away the youthful glow and replacing it was a certain bitter maturity.

You could feel his eyes on you, making you squirm in your chair.

Your hair was long and perfectly upkept, growing well past your breasts. Funny, he thought. You always wanted it long.

You refused to acknowledge his curious eyes, focusing on Rick. But you could still see him in your peripheral vision. " You don't have to give us an answer now. I know this is a lot to ask." Rick chuckled nervously, finding himself in a very uncomfortable situation. "I... uhm...I just need some time to think." Rick nodded understandingly. "Give me two days to collect my thoughts and maybe I'll see you on the third."

"And if we don't?"

"Well, then you have your answer."

You heard Daryl scoff.

Your head whipped to him in an instant. "What?"

"How can ya be so selfish?"

Rick sighed deeply. His high hopes were being squashed by the second - remembering the words Jesus had said. Quick to anger and prone to a grudge.

"Sel-? Daryl." You snickered in return, rolling your eyes. His demeanor only fueled your annoyance as yours did his. It was as if no years had passed, picking up the argument right where it had been left.

People slipped out of the room swiftly, knowing the extent of Daryl's anger. Though they didn't know the extent of yours, they weren't willing to stand around and find out. "Do you even understand what's being asked of me?" You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting back in your chair.

"It ain't that hard...These are good people Y/n. They deserve this." He argued.

"But do you?" Your response is full of spite.

Daryl's face twisted. He couldn't believe your pettiness could go to the lengths you were taking it. He sat up in his chair "That ain't right and ya know it."

You did know it but your emotions were in disarray and you didn't care what was deemed right in this moment.

The anger that accumulated every day without him was coming to the service, burning away any fear of saying what you truly wanted.

"What was right, D?" His nickname coming from your lips made him flinch. Your tone was pointed. You weren't talking about communities anymore. You were talking to him directly.

“I don’t know.”

You could say you didn't know when it started but that would be a lie. You had just turned twenty-one on the sixth day of March, now having the permission needed to work in your uncle's dive bar. It had been in the family for years, your grandfather opening it in the late 1960's. Your uncle and father ran it together until your father's sudden death only five years prior. Your mother's death following soon after.

The bar stunk of cigarettes and the bitter scent of 'fresh linen Febreze' in an attempt to cover the stench. The wood floors and walls held the scent of every drink ever spilled on them. The decorations on the walls hadn't been changed in nearly twenty years. Old school pin-up liquor posters, clique Coke decorations, and stained glass lamp shades above every table.

The red spinny chairs at the bar and at every high-top had never been replaced, the red leather peeling in spots exposing the synthetic material beneath. Even the pool tables had seen the years come and go. The newest thing in this bar was you.

Daryl had only worked there less a year as a busser.

You'd heard of him and his brother around town. But Daryl being four years your elder [and Merle even older] you never knew them personally nor cared to.

The bar was in chaos after a football Sunday, Daryl and you left behind after hours to clean up.

There wasn't much said that night, Daryl busy in the back scrubbing glass after glass. You busy in the front counting cash, cleaning any drink you'd spilled in the rush of the night.

You'd knelt down on your knees to clean a beer spill beneath a table, knowing it would turn into a sticky mess if you didn't. "Hey, hey." Daryl interrupted you, grabbing your attention by gently grazing your shoulder with his fingertips. You looked to him, eyes furrowed from your spot on the ground. "I can get under there, don't worry 'bout it." He had even offered you a hand to stand back up.

Your first impression of Daryl was gentle and kind nothing like the cruel words he'd been called from the mouths of other townies. He spent the rest of the night interrupting you, refusing to allow you to do any hard labor; stating over and over that he'll "get it".

You were nothing more than coworkers at first. You began to tease him with flirty jokes and desirable glances throughout the busy nights. Leaving Daryl blushing and scurrying away to the back with his bin full of clanking beer glasses. You held conversations in the slow mornings having no other company besides him and a few retired men who wanted nothing more than to get away from their wives.

"I hope that love never finds me." You'd said to Daryl on one of those particular mornings. "What ya mean?" You were gazing at one of those men from your spot behind the bar, a regular who visited daily. "Spending their days here instead of home just to get away from their quote, pestering wives." You used air quotations, having heard the same story over and over again. "They loved each other once." You shook your head in disappointment. "Now all they can love is Budweiser and harassing bartenders."

Daryl watched the words flow from your lips so smoothly, trying to imagine how they'd feel on his own. "Ya know?" You grabbed Daryl's attention. "Yeah, yeah." You chuckled and shook your head, "You weren't listening."

A whiskey bottle and a pool table changed things that very night. Soon after it was as though you couldn't stray away from another, no matter how many times you said you couldn't do it again.

A closeness grew steadfastly.

You'd come to know every inch of him. And every second of his life. As he did you. He'd opened up to you about his mother's death and his complicated relationship with his brother. He'd say he hated them.. but felt an obligation to love them because they were merely family. His father on the other hand was dead to him, being the way he put it. You related on this certain despair, few blood relatives left for you. It was just your sister, you, and your uncle. Your uncle never married and never had children, having put too much of his devotion to the bar.

The loneliness the two of you shared was apparent, finding solitude in this newfound company of one another.

What you were doing didn't have a name. It wasn't in the rulebook of relationships. Maybe your loneliness made you desperate. Maybe it was nothing at all besides two horny twenty-something-year-olds craving the touch of another. But what you did know was that he filled a hole within you, a hole that had been carved when you'd lost your parents.

Your sister wasn't very fond of it. She'd tell you that you deserved to be loved openly and freely, not only within the sheets [or bent over a pool table.]

The days turned into weeks, then months, and then it was approaching a year.

A soft moan fell from your lips quickly being stifled by the lips of another. You ground your hips against his determinedly, chasing the high you so desperately craved. The liquor is your system making your head fuzzy, the words he gently spoke to you only adding to your daze.

He muttered words of encouragement through his own pleasure, edging you closer and closer. It hit you like a wave, abrupt and full of adrenaline. His own hitting him the same, head dropping into the crevice of your shoulder.

You could feel his heartbeat against your own. You drearily brushed his back with your fingertips, “Daryl?” You asked innocently. “Hm?” He didn’t move from his position. “You okay?”

Daryl began to kiss your neck tenderly, “Course m’okay.” The kisses didn't earn the reaction they typically did. He lifted from his position, seeing as your eyes stared up at your ceiling. "Are ya okay?" He repeated the question back to you. "Have you ever thought about leaving this place?"

Daryl shifted off of you alleviating his weight. "Like leavin' town? or leavin' Georgia?" You shifted in the bed, "Either." You lay on your stomach and propped your elbow up, looking at him. The room was dim but you still saw Daryl's face contort to a kind of discomfort.

"Where would ya go?"

"We can go anywhere." You made sure to include Daryl in this. Making sure he knew he wasn't trapped here. "But the Upper East Coast has some really good schools for culinary...I think I'd like to do that." Daryl reached over beginning to rub delicate circles on your bare back. This gave you a sense of reassurance. A gentle reminder that he wasn't mad at you for desiring such a thing.

"Could be nice. Ya know I love yer cooking." Daryl looked at you with a dreamy gaze. He didn't allow himself to relish in such fantasies often. Typically keeping a certain, expect the worst and you'll never be disappointed, headspace to himself.

But something felt different tonight. Perhaps it had been the gentle, I love you, you'd whispered against his lips earlier in the night. Or the way he’d said it back. When he’d brought himself to his knees for you as his lips were stamping kisses on the delicate skin of your inner thighs. Muttering those three words before slipping his tongue where you needed it.

Daryl was working pre-open shift at the bar; cleaning up various glasses and sweeping cigarette butts beneath every booth and table. He enjoyed mornings like this, they were quiet, the only company he had to endure was that of his own. Motorhead played quietly through the radio behind the bar. Daryl lost within the beat of the song, he'd completely missed you walking in the door.

"Hey D." His head whipped around. You smiled at him gently. He greeted you with an equally gentle good morning. "What are ya doin' here?" Though you'd disrupted his morning, he'd never complain. "I had to see you...I have to talk to you about something." The seriousness in your tone unsettled him. He turned the radio off and leaned his broom against the bar.

You could feel your heart beating against your chest making you feel as though you could vomit at any given second. Your mouth unintentionally hung slightly open as you grasped for words.

This only made Daryl more uneasy. He viewed you as a confident person, that spoke openly about anything. He rattled his mind for any possibility that could, quite literally, leave you speechless.

“Are you uh…pregnant?” Your eyes widened, “No! no.” You quickly rejected this giving him a moment of relief.

“So then what is it Y/n?” You fiddled with the ring on your right hand.

“Do ya not wanna do this anymore?” Daryl’s anxiety grew.

“Delilah is moving.” You blurted out quickly. “She wants to go live with that guy she met online...and I’m gonna go with her.”

Daryl shifted on his feet. “Where?”

“Massachusetts.” This made his heart plummet.

“Why?”

“I wanna go to school D.” Your words were meant to be firm but the unsteady tone of your voice made them sound nervous. Daryl’s silence unsettled you, he avoided your gaze, opting to look at the wood floor.

“There’s not much for me here.” A pitiful attempt to justify your decision.

“I’m here.”

You sighed deeply, averting your gaze to the floor, unable to look at the frown drawn on his face.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Your teary eyes looked to him for an answer. “Hm?…You think it’s easy for me to leave my home? To leave where my mom and dad are buried? To leave you?”

“So don’t go.” Daryls voice was only above a whisper.

“Come with me.” It wasn’t a question. You said it as though it was a statement, demanding him to follow. “What?”

It had been a thought in the back of your mind for days. You had been finding it difficult to plan your own future states away without him in it. “I’m asking you to come with me.” Knowing he had no words for you, you continued on. “I can't live with Delilah forever, we can find a place together...You can get a job anywhere up there. You’re great with your hands D, you can do anything.”

It seemed as though he debated your offering. "Come on." You tried to encourage him. "We talked about it months ago. What's changed since then?" You took a step closer trying to ignore the step he took back in return.

“I can’t just up and leave Y/n. I can’t leave Merle.”

The scoff that you gave in response irritated him, knowing your pronounced dislike for his elder brother. “Merle’s in jail, Daryl.” You said it as if he didn’t know. “You’re just gonna wait till Merle gets his shit together to start living your own life?” The conversation was quickly turning bitter.

Daryl swallowed his pride though an argument was never something he backed down from. “Gotta get back to cleanin’.” He stated dryly. You watched in shock as he grasped up the broom and turned his back to you.

“Wha-Daryl.” He ignored you, sweeping the emptied peanut shells into a small pile. “Daryl.” Again, nothing. “Daryl please.” You grazed his back with your fingertips, testing to see if he'd allow your touch. "Please talk to me.” You whispered once more as you wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his back. He radiated a warmth all too familiar.

Daryl stopped his movements allowing his arms to fall loosely at his side. It felt as though he'd stop breathing for a second trying to hold back the sobs that heaved his chest. This shook your body with his. You only gripped your arms tighter and began dragging your hands up and down his chest almost as a way of comfort.

Daryl shoved your arms from him, spatting at you to get off. “Go on! Go on get!” He snapped in an instant. His words made you feel like a mangy dog begging for food. His eyes were still red from his tears, and the pale complexion of his cheeks was now red and inflamed. Daryl threw his arm to the door dramatically, “Leave just like everyone else!”

“That’s not fair! You can’t put that on me.”

“Why not? You ain’t making it any better!”

“I’m asking you to come with me!”

“Oh that’s just so nice of ya Y/n!”

Daryl took a step towards you.

“Here!” Daryl shoved the broom into your hands, leaving you bewildered. “Give it a little kiss and then beat me with it why don’t ya?!” He shouted sarcastically. “Oh my god, really?!” You threw the broom to the ground, wood clattering. “You’re ridiculous.” You spat in his face.

“How so huh?! That’s exactly what yer doin’!” Daryl’s face was mere inches from your own. Though his words were full of anger, it didn’t cover up his eyes full of tears.

“Wether I stay or go yer leavin’ anyway.” His voice broke. He quickly pulled away from you, unable to look at your pouting face any longer without he himself falling apart.

You had no words for him, knowing there was truth in what he said. The tears finally broke past your water line, "I'm sorry Daryl, I'm-" "Get out Y/n." His venomous tone seeped deep into your skin, unsettling you to your core. Daryl had always been gentle with you, he never dared to take a tone so cruel.

"Okay." You agreed trying to give him his space. You turned to the door, stopping before touching the handle. "I'll still be in town till next Monday." As you swung open the door, you looked to him, “I’ll see you soon D.” You left thinking you could circle to the conversation later in the day after he’d collected his thoughts.

You never did see him again. He'd disappeared after that day. You spent your remaining days in Georgia trying to hunt down the man you'd spent almost every day with for the past year and a half. You asked around but no one knew. You even went as far as talking to his dad. An hour of your life wasted, the air you breathed taken up by whiskey breath.

The phone call you made to Merle also proved futile. He'd asked you for money in his commissary in exchange for information. The phone call ended in a plethora of curse words.

Daryl had shown up back in town sometime after you'd gone, acting as if nothing had happened. He never returned back to work at the bar, having found work at a local body shop. He wouldn’t dare face your uncle. And he couldn’t return to the spot that reminded him so much of you. He forced himself to have no desire to hear anything about you nor return to any spots where you’d graced. But unfortunately for him, that was almost every where in a town as small as this one.

He never saw the bar again, opting to drive a town over to get drinks. He’d heard from other locals that the new bartender didn’t make drinks as good as yours anyway. He struggled to go to the local diner. With it being a place you frequently got breakfast together, especially after one of your long nights, having worked up such an appetite. Merle dragged him there when he was released as a celebration meal. He felt inclined to order your favorite dish just to feel a bit closer to you. Biscuits and gravy with a side of over easy eggs and hashbrowns.

He continued to run from the grief of losing you until it crept up on him in the middle of the juice aisle of the grocery store, unable to buy the same orange juice brand he always had simply because it was your favorite too. Daryl found it difficult to go about his routines without your ghost grabbing him by his throat, dragging him down into a pit of regret.

Daryl never did escape that town. Not until the world forced him out of it on foot. And he never escaped Merle. Even when his blade ended his brother's life mercifully, he never felt as though he escaped his shadow.

The argument with Daryl raged on. Neither of you cared to hear the side of the other. At this moment both of you were right, both were justified in the stance they took. Despite the fact that there was a regret imbedded in both your hearts.

You were right for leaving even if every second of your life after was a well of loneliness.

He was right for staying even if every waking day in that town was misery.

"Where did you even fucking go?" You cursed.

"The hell you talking 'bout?" He cursed back.

"That day...you just fucking vanished." The volume in your tone diminished yet you still demanded an answer. "I- I stayed at the cabin." Daryl shamefully admitted.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "Cab-? Oh my god." You put your head in your hands, feeling a wave of frustration hit you. It sounded so ridiculous you almost laughed. It was the one place you failed to check. His grandfather's old hunting cabin. Technically abandoned yet still in his grandfathers name, it was a place Daryl ran to when he needed to escape, especially from the wrath of his father.

“M’sorry…it was just too much for me to see ya leave.”

“Oh please!" Your head shot up not in the mood for apologies. “You just didn’t want me to try to change your mind!” You argued. “You lived your life with Meryl just as you wanted it and I spent thirteen years waiting for someone who would never come.”

“What are ya talking about?” Daryl’s tone was nothing short of disbelief. “I never came? What about you huh? Ya never called, never wrote, never visited.” Daryl shouted. Your face scrunched in confusion, staring at him. “Ya just…” Daryl’s breath hitched as he could feel his chest begin to hurt. “Just walked out that day and never came back.” His voice cracked, attempting to blink away the tears in his eyes.

Your anger diminished though your heart still raced with adrenaline. “Daryl, what are you…?” Your confusion was too strong to find words. “What are you talking about?” The two of you stood opposite the other, equally confused.

“ I…I sent letters all the time. I sent postcards from anywhere I went. I sent Christmas cards and birthday cards with gifts and money…” You stuttered over your words, your hands frantically moving about. “I visited three times and made a fool of myself driving around town, asking people about you.” The frantic way you spoke made your chest heave.

Silence followed, each of you trying to digest the words of the other. “You know this.” You stated firmly. “Please tell me you know this.” The anger that once filled the room was replaced with sorrow. “No…never got no cards…ain’t nobody ever said anything to me about you visitin’.” Daryl responded.

You scoffed, muttering a quiet of course. The tears you had been trying to avoid, fought their way to your waterline. You weren’t sure why you had expected anything more from the people of that town; nor why you expected more from his father. The countless amount of letters you’d poured your heart into, thrown in the trash. And your money stolen; only to be used on liquor and cigarettes.

“Why did ya send me money?” Daryl asked abruptly, as if though it insulted him.

“Really? That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Wouldn’t have taken your money Y/n.”

You bickered back and forth.

“This isn’t about the money, Daryl!” You snapped. Daryl was taken aback by your sudden outburst. You muttered a curse beneath your breath and stood from your chair; helping yourself to the bar cart. Opting to drown your frustration in liquor.

The whiskey poured into your glass smoothly.

Daryl sat silently in his chair. You had never yelled at him in such a manner before. “What happened to yer accent?" Daryl asked. You licked the liquor from your lips, turning to face him once again. "What?" He stood from his chair, meeting you at your level. "I only hear it when ya say certain words or when ya yell..." His words sounded as if he was hurt by this, “Ya don’t sound like I remember.”

You stumbled over your words for an excuse but found none. "It just faded after time, I guess."

You were growing tired of arguing with him, suddenly becoming conscious of how long you'd been in this room. "I have to go." You grabbed for your jacket on the table. "Come on, don't." Daryl stepped in your way, blocking your path.

This only frustrated you more. "Daryl, I've been here long enough." You were pleading with him to let you go, becoming overwhelmed with your own emotions.

You began bickering over each other, words blending together all at once.

"We used to dance together. You and I." The abrupt sentence stopped the bickering. Your bottom lip quivered, teary eyes looking up at him. "In the bar late at night, once everyone had gone and the only thing they played on the radio was old love songs." It was a memory Daryl had tried to forget. A feeling he'd shoved so far down within himself that only you could pull it back to the surface.

If he dwelled on it long enough he could still feel your body pressed against his, head resting on his shoulder. The way your arms grasped onto the other, softly swaying to the music that hummed statically through the radio.

"We could've had something together Daryl." The tears brushed against your lashes, rolling down your cheeks. "But you didn't want it." You finally snuck around him, snatching your jacket from the table.

"That ain't true." His voice broke.

A frustrated sigh left you, "It doesn't matter now, it's too late." You angrily shoved your arms into the sleeves of your jacket.

"Y/n." Daryl reaches for you.

You ripped your arm away from him at the feeling of his fingertips brushing against the skin of your hand. "It's too late Daryl." Once your coat was on, you made for the door. No hesitation to leave him behind this time.

The sound of your boots against the wood floors echoed through the building, followed by the slam of the door. He stood there aimlessly, his eyes mapping out where you'd once stood.

Sleep didn't grace Daryl for those two days. He laid awake, tossing and turning, you on his mind. His daily tasks at the sanctuary were interrupted constantly by his own anxiety, leaving him irritable and antsy.

Daryl wondered what you were doing at any given moment. He wondered if you were thinking of him just as much. Spitefully hoping you were just as restless as him. Hoping the mere thought of him ruined your day and left you sleepless. But when his spite wore away he found himself in a pit of despair.

On the third day, he made sure to be in Hilltop on wait for your [potential] arrival.

The thought that you might not actually come made him sick. Every hour that passed left him more and more hopeless.

Daryl, please go rest. Rick tried to coax him, knowing he'd been up before the crack of dawn. But he wouldn't, refusing to leave the spot on the porch he'd made his own.

A low rumble vibrated Daryl's eardrums. The recognizable hum of a bike. Of multiple bikes even. Then came the heavy tires of a truck, bumping along the dirt road, causing its chains to smack against the metal exterior.

The metal gates rolled open smoothly just in time for the vehicles to pass through.

You rolled the busted black pickup truck to a stop. The two bikers returned, putting their kickstands into the hardened ground. The white cargo van behind you came to a halt, the words 'Tony's Bakery and Deli' still painted on its side in red cursive.

The bed of the truck you drove was covered with a blue tarpe, the ropes wrapped around the top kept the tarpe from flying away.

Daryl watched you hop out of the truck, a sly smile poking at your cheeks. There was a different essence to you. Your presence itself felt lighter like a weight had been lifted. Rick and Maggie were first to greet you bringing a group with them to begin unloading.

Daryl couldn't keep himself from the crowd, strolling over to begin helping. He watched as you immediately jumped into guidance, instructing everyone on what was what and where to put it. You'd pulled down the bed of the truck, hoping atop to begin passing out the milk crates of food.

Daryl had never seen you work like this. But he couldn't be more proud. You caught his eye from your stance atop the bed of the truck. You gave him a small wave that he returned. A heat rushed through him. That's when he averted his eyes, turning his attention to work of his own.

The door of the cargo truck was slid open, metal slapping at the top. Daryl was first to gladly climb into the back, passing down boxes to the people beneath, proudly taking on the weight of the cargo.

The people from your community that you brought as helping hands collaborated with the people of the Hilltop. They worked together unloading the trucks, dividing things into piles by community. Conversations were going on between many people, and the hum of delightful chatter filled the cold air.

"I've given what I could for each community, I hope it'll be enough to at least make things comfortable for a little bit." You stood with Rick, taking a break having been unpacking for well over an hour. “It's more than enough Y/n. Thank you."

You smiled to yourself, trying not to feel guilty about how much you enjoyed the praise for yourself. "We can continue conversations of reconstructions later on. We have plenty of ex-construction workers, and carpenters, and well just men who can't wait to get their hands dirty again." A soft laugh came after your words, Rick chuckling as well.

The feeling of someone approaching broke the conversation. You turned your head, grateful it was who you'd hoped.

Rick glanced between the two of you, quietly walking away.

"Ya look nice." Daryl complimented. You glance down at yourself, cocking an eyebrow at him. The same leather jacket you wore days before fitting your figure again, black leather gloves covering your hands, a thick brown plaid scarf wrapped around your neck. "I've looked better."

Daryl swallowed harshly, unsure of how to continue. "I have something for you." You continued for him. You nudged your head in the direction of your truck, insinuating for him to follow.

"This is for you." You pulled a piece of clothing from the front seat of the car, closing it after. "It's uhh.." You presented the clothing to him. a black leather poncho with a hood, a soft brown fur lining it. "A lady at the community makes them." The poncho passed from your hands to his. Daryl looked at you flustered unsure of what to say. "Come on, let's try it." A hopeful smile beamed on your features. He reluctantly slipped the poncho over his head, the soft interior brushing against his face. "Hmm...it's nice."

Yeah, you whispered.

"It's uhm, it's..." Before you could explain yourself, you took a step closer, finding yourself adjusting the garment as it was meant to be.

"There we go." You pointed to the car window where Daryl could see his reflection. "It gets colds up here for a southern boy, gotta keep you warm." You joked. Your hand rested on his arm longer than intended but you couldn't seem to remove it.

Though the thick material of the poncho blocked your true touch, Daryl could still feel it. It radiated a warmth through the material.

When your eyes met his in the reflection of the window, Daryl saw a lifetime with you flash before him. A lifetime he could have never known. You didn't pull your gaze. Thirteen years of longing looked back at you, a certain sorrow burrowed beneath those eyes. Your heartbeat quickened and the smile slowly faded. You swiftly removed your hand, taking a step away.

"Thank you."

"Course."

You nervously played with the material of your glove. With the large scarf around your neck, you felt like a turtle sheepishly pulling itself back into its shell. "Ya wanna go sit somewhere with me?" A sigh of relief left you. "I'd love that."

Daryl had guided you to a wooden bench by the building, still in eyesight of the unloading cargo. You watched Rick with his clipboard and pen taking inventory. You sat atop the bench, planting your feet where someone would typically sit. You stretched your back, a small crack following due to sitting for a consistent four-hour drive.

"I packed some of that soap you used to like, the pine one? IrishSprings...I would suggest claiming it before anyone else does." Daryl nodded with appreciation. "Thank you for doing this." You were no fool to the topic Daryl and you were gently dancing around. "I forgive you." The forgiveness spewed uncontrollably from your lips.

Daryl didn't give you a response to this, not because he didn't want to. But because it was so sudden it startled him. "I've spent a lot of years being alone and angry. And I..." You paused, "I don't wanna be like that anymore especially not towards you."

"I forgive ya too, Y/n." A deep shaky breath shook your body, finally hearing the words you'd longed for come from his lips. "And I'm proud of ya." You laughed at this. It was the only way to avoid tears. "Really. I am. Ya got out, you were a chef. You started a whole goddamn community. You got everything ya wanted." Your glossy eyes met his. "Well, I didn't get everything." You nudged his knee with your own.

The blue of his eyes didn't shine the way it used to.

He broke your gaze, looking down at his feet. “We’re you ever ah..with, you know someone else?” Daryl asked the question he’d been itching to ask. His possessive nature desired to hear a no. But he couldn’t be so selfish.

“I slept with people but nothing ever serious.” You admitted truthfully. No man or woman ever filled the hole he left behind. Everyone you ever met you compared to him in some way. No one had his charm. They never understood you the way he did. Never touched you the way he had. You eventually gave up trying to find something else, opting to throw yourself into work; figuring you couldn’t care for relationships if you were too busy in your career.

“Did you?” You turned the question to him. “No.” He scoffed sarcastically as if it was ridiculous of you to even suggest such a thing.

You felt ashamed to admit that his answer slightly pleased you. “I hate when you do that.” You commented with a shake of your head. “Do what?” Daryl replied gently. “Put yourself down so much…You’re handsome, D…Always have been. Anyone after me would’ve been more than lucky.”

Daryl was unable to articulate a reply to such a statement. You turned your head towards him, “Don’t look so surprised.” You cheekily teased.

You’d sat on the bench until your bum had fallen asleep and gone numb. It wasn’t as if you didn’t have plenty to catch up on. He’d lost Merle just as you’d lost Delilah. He asked you questions about work and what it was like to be a chef; you’d shown him all the little scars you’d acquired on your hands from your knife.

You could’ve sat there and talked to him until the sun set and rose the next day.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Rick interrupted.

“That’s okay.” You dismissed, standing from the bench, trying to ignore the numbness in your limbs. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just wanted to come tell you that we’re all wrapped up.”

The horn of a car caught your attention and interrupted Rick. One of your men reached into the truck and his free arm waved you over indicating they were ready to go.

"It probably is best if we start heading out." A deep sigh followed your words. "Ya just got here." Daryl responded quickly. An airy chuckle left you at his hastiness. "It's been a long morning. We've been up since before the sun prepping everything and then the drive..." Your words trailed off watching Daryl's face droop into a frown.

Daryl nodded his head in understanding, preparing himself for yet another goodbye. "You're welcome to stay." Rick offered. "I mean we could use the help distributing everything to the other communities...I'm sure everyone would love to meet ya and say thank you." Rick looked at you sincerely. "We can make room for everyone to sleep tonight."

You could sense Daryl's eyes looking to you for an answer, practically pleading for you to say yes. "I- I don't.." You looked over your shoulder at your group. "They'd worry back at home too much. It was only meant to be a day trip." Dary's disappointment was apparent. "Well, you're welcome anytime," Rick muttered another thank you before making his exit.

You avoided Daryl's eyes, not needing to feel more guilt for your answer. "I'll be around, there's still so much to do here and in Alexandria." Your words were an attempt to mend the wound you'd created.

"Are you okay with seeing me again? And again...? And again...?" You were picking fun at him, a teasing tone in your voice. He couldn't hide the smile that poked his cheeks, "Course I am."

"Good." A cheeky smile formed on your own face. Hearing the sounds of engines beginning to rumble brought you back to reality. “I’ll see you soon, D." You gently touched his arm before turning away.

Daryl shoved his hands under the poncho into the front pockets of his pants, his gaze following every step you took.

You looked back to him, tasting the words on your tongue, the same way they tasted thirteen years ago. Come with me. But you wouldn't, the fear of being rejected yet again silences you. Go. Daryl formed the word bittersweetly, nudging his head. He gave you the permission you needed to turn away.

Daryl didn't move from the spot he stood. Even as everyone else's attention turned away, it was his love for you that kept his feet glued in the dirt. His eyes didn't leave until the last inch of the gate had been closed.

A lump formed in your throat. You threw on the brave face of what you thought a leader should be, forcefully swallowing it down. But the sorrow that made your heart empty only grew the farther the car drove. Hot silent tears rolled down your cheeks. You sniffled the snot that dared leak from your nose, forcing it down the back of your throat. This made you feel sick, wanting to throw up the mucus.

You kept yourself in this continuous loop for miles, your free hand clutching at your stomach as you whimpered like a wounded animal. You thought that if you kept on the feeling would eventually go away. But still, it persisted.

Daryl made his journey to Alexandria, offering his hand in aid to deliver the supplies. He'd returned back to what was his home in the community, though he couldn't recall the last time he'd stayed here.

No sleep would greet him that night, he was sure of it. He had too many thoughts of you floating aimlessly in his mind to lay to rest. He sat solemnly at his kitchen table, fiddling with making new arrows for his bow.

Your feet guided you swiftly through the unfamiliar streets of Alexandria, following the directions Rick had given you at the gates. You repeated them to yourself over and over. Make a right, pass two houses, make a left, house on the corner.

You saw the house in the distance, Daryl's bike parked in the large driveway. The adrenaline pumping through your veins voided any anxieties.

You gently knocked on the door and awaited a response. You looked around the exterior trying to see any signs of life. The subtle orange glow of flames could be seen through the sheer curtains. Impulsively you grabbed the door handle allowing yourself entry.

Daryl stood up in an instant on high alert at the sound of the door. When your figure came into view through the darkness of the hallway, his tensed shoulders dropped. The only light was that of the various candles he'd lit amongst the kitchen.

"Y/n?" Daryl tossed the rag he'd cleaned his hands with on the kitchen table. "What are ya doin' here?" Your cheeks were puffy and cold from being in the harsh winter air for so long. The tip of your nose was frozen, completely cold to the touch.

"I turned back. I went to Hilltop but Maggie sent me here.” You stutter over your words, “I had to see you." You walked closer to him slightly out of breath from your brisk walk over. Daryl's heart pounded against his chest. The warm glow within the darkness gleamed against your glassy eyes.

"I always told myself that if I ever saw you again, I wouldn't leave. That...I'd figure something out to make this work."

Your lips formed together but you were reluctant to continue.

"I wou-"

"Wha-"

You cut each other off, words piling up together.

"M'sorry." Daryl apologized, gesturing for you to continue.

"I know I said it was too late but...I would like so much for us to have a second chance."

Daryl swallowed harshly. Your expression goes from seeking to wary in a second at his silence. "I would like that too." You allowed yourself to breathe, a chuckle of relief leaving you.

You stepped toward him, practically collapsing into his arms. A sense of relief washed over you. You moved your arms to place them around him. Daryl had grown more broad than you'd seen him last, filling your outstretched arms so perfectly. You felt whole once again.

Daryl felt his body melt into yours. The tension he’d felt so heavily on his shoulders diminished. You welcomed nothing but the silence and the warmth of his body. It was as though neither of you could pull away, melting into one.

Daryl only pulled away to look at you when he felt your chest vibrate, examining if it was from laughter or tears. It was a mixture of both. He gently brushed your hair from your face, "What's wrong?"

You felt foolish for your disarray of emotions, wiping at a tear that tickled your cheek.

"You smell of pine."

Music played through the radio behind the bar, the radio station you’d flicked on was currently on a Fleetwood Mac streak. You were behind the bar with your notepad, taking inventory of the bottles for the week. Daryl was sitting at a nearby booth, polishing up whiskey glasses.

“We’re gonna try something new and start to slow things down for any of those late-night lovers out there.” The radio host announced after the last song came to an end.

You cocked an eyebrow at Daryl, who returned your confused expression. “Well, that’s new.” You laughed making your way from behind the counter.

Daryl hummed an agreement.

You listened intensively trying pinpoint the familiar tune that began to play. You smiled to yourself, Put Your Head On My Shoulder, began. It was a clique song that anyone and their mother would recognize but you couldn’t deny the catchiness of it. From your seat across Daryl, he watched you gently mouthing the words. You were too busy going over your notes to see him stealing looks at you.

Daryl smiled to himself. The dim lighting of the bar cast a shadow on your features. The scowl on your brows showed your deep concentration. Daryl admired the way your nose was casted perfectly to fit your face. He traced the outline of your lips as they moved with the lyrics. He swooned at the thought of you being no one else’s but his.

“Do you wanna dance together?” Daryl raised an eyebrow at you. “What?” You placed your notepad on the table, an amused look on your face. “I don’t know how to do that.” You chuckled, standing from the booth. “You don’t have to do much.” The song on the radio faded into, When a Man Loves a Women.

You held out a hand to him, edging him to follow. He reluctantly did so, calling you crazy.

You were unsure yourself how to dance. But something compelled you to try.

You placed your feet in front of his. You instructed his movements, directing him to hold your right hand up and place his other on your waist. You did so as if you had any idea what you were doing. You were merely repeating the stance you'd seen in so many movies. "Now just kinda sway."

Daryl awkwardly moved his body. You giggled to yourself, "You look stiff as a board." You teased.

"You kinda gotta move your feet too, like this."

The wood floors creaked beneath your moving feet. Daryl felt the way your hips glided beneath his hand. Daryl seemed to ease into the unfamiliar rhythm of this dance. He was unsure if this was really a "dance" but wether it was or wasn't, it didn't matter. Because it was yours and his.

Your chest began to feel heavy, an overwhelming sense of emotion hurdling toward you. With a heavy heart, you moved closer and took your chance to rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomed this, resting his own atop yours. Being so close to him now you relished in his scent. "You smell nice..." You complimented. The sweet smell of pine greeted you on his skin.

You couldn't complain about the fresh scent but you'd grown used to his scent typically being cigarette smoke and whatever soap was on sale at the market.

"Thanks...got a new soap 'n took a bath."

"A bath?" Your laugh vibrated Daryl's chest. You pulled your head from his shoulder meeting his eyes with a joyful gleam. "Yeah so?"

Your bodies swaying to the rhythm of the song didn't falter. "Was it a bubble bath?" You sniffed him again, "With some very manly scented bath salts?" Daryl rolled his eyes at your jest. "Yer not funny." The smile creeping on his face said otherwise. You found yourself lying on his shoulder again, the scent of pine greeting you once more.

The songs continued on the radio but no matter how many came and went, you couldn't seem to unlock your arms from him. You'd fall asleep right there if humanly possible. "Is it okay if I say I love you?" Your voice was meek like a timid mouse. Daryl placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"It's okay."

Daryl and you had eleven years together almost making up for the thirteen missed. You'd "married" in the Spring of the second year when Daryl surprised you with a flower field he'd come across while hunting; a ring for you safely hidden in his back pocket. It was a gold ring with three lavender-colored gemstones, and tiny pearls scattered around the stones imbedded in the band. He'd chosen a basic gold band for himself. The antique store had the set priced at $3,150 [before tax]. But it was his for free.

You met your demise on a sunny day in what was presumed to be March; when the sun shines warmth but the wind still provides a shiver. It would've been only days after your forty-seventh birthday.

We'll find each other again. You'd reassured him through your own pain.

People told him he was lucky to have been there to hold you a final time. But he didn't feel lucky. And he felt even less when he had to put that blade in your skull, preventing you from turning.

Daryl would never find another and he never left the home you'd built together. But this time, instead of running from the memory of you, he was able to embrace it. He'd read through the recipes you'd written and even tried to cook some. Though they never tasted how he remembered. You had something special in your cooking, a taste he could never replicate. I pour all my love for you into it, You'd joke when he'd ask.

He wore your ring on his pinky every day and wore nothing but black clothing as if always in mourning for you.

He never deemed himself someone who walked toward death but some days he found himself welcoming it, desiring nothing more than to be with you again.

Daryl knew he'd spend the rest of his time on this morbid earth in torment until he was to see you again.

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pleasuresofsohodolls · 1 month ago

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⋆.ೃ - Smith!Reader

Smith!Reader who isn't actually a Smith by blood, and was actually one of Negan's students pre-outbreak, but slowly got 'adopted' by Negan and Lucille throughout the beginning of the apocalypse.

Smith!Reader who would travel with her parents when they were younger, all over the USA and wherever they could afford in Europe - her favourite place being England due to spending the most long-term time there than any other country she's visited. Her mom died in 2008, when she was only ten. Her dad was never the jolliest man but after the death of the only woman he's ever loved, he was barely even there - physically and mentally.

Smith!Reader who's obsessed with anything and everything pop culture. She can't go anywhere without her CD Player and her Headphones. Her music taste ranging from Mozart to Rob Zombie. She has every single magazine she can find scattered across her room, she has dvds of old tv shows and movies she used to watch at the local library. She's so well endowed with her own knowledge that Carl's lack of pop knowledge physically pains her sometimes.

Smith!Reader who the only way she could bond with her dad was through comics, something he had raised her to love. Marvel, DC, Snoopy, she loves them all. She watched through the window as Negan killed her dad in her small garden with the same bat she had used years prior to play baseball with the poor man, if only he didn't get bitten.

Smith!Reader who was basically like the daughter Lucille never had. They'd listen to music while Negan was out finding supplies or on patrol, her dancing while Lucille sang along weakly. Safe to say she didn't handle Lucille's death well.

Smith!Reader who started calling Negan her dad once Simon took them to the Sanctuary, she'd only properly known the man nine months by this point, but he'd done more for her than any man ever has in her life.

Smith!Reader who's first real interaction with Carl was him threatening her with a gun during the Savior's first visit to Alexandria after watching her trying to take some of the medicine - she just smiled at his empty threats and shitty aim. It was cute.

Smith!Reader who's indifferent. She understands both sides of the 'war' ; that's what makes her so likeable to people, such as Carl and even Daryl. She doesn't treat Carl like an enemy and she doesn't treat Daryl like a prisoner - she treats them like what she believes others are supposed to, she treats them like people.

Smith!Reader who's obsessed with Judith. Before Judith she'd never held a baby, never even been that close to one - but she instantly fell in love. And it went both ways. Maybe even three ways.

Smith!Reader who helps Alexandria subtly throughout the war. She tells Carl about different Saviour plans through a walkie-talkie (which have caused many late night conversations with the pair), and gives him a gun that she makes sure he knows has to remain a secret - even to his dad.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

Woah first post. I'm not really a writer I just like making up different personas (is that the right word???) to imagine my crushes with and wanted to write some of it out !!

Also I should really be focusing on a fic I'm writing on ao3 (abt this reader actually) but schools a bitch and just really tires me out 💔

There's so much more I could say abt her but I'd just be yapping with like 100 different paragraphs so I limited myself to 10 😭

#smith!reader #smith!reader x carl grimes #carl grimes #negan smith #lucille smith #twd #the walking dead #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x you #carl grimes x female!reader #twd x reader #twd x you #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you

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boop-le-snoot · 2 years ago

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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

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #female reader #twd smut #not tagging this with norman reedus bc i have posted my face before and I'm not that bold #or am I?

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hidtired · 1 year ago

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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.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman reedus #twd daryl #angst #fluff #masterlist #smut

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sacrificiallane · 6 months ago

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— ˗ˋ RICK GRIMES c.ai ୨୧ ˊ˗ — 12.02.2025 (newest ones are marked with a heart)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ happy halloween ﹚it's the middle of the apocalypse, and you surprise Rick with a... bunny costume? one for the funsies

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ don't feed it, it'll come back ﹚Rick finds you on the streets, he can't just leave you here!

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ poor thing ﹚you're a stumbling mess, it's a wonder how you survived so far!

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ sleeping on your own ﹚you keep sneaking into his room at night, he keeps telling you it's wrong...

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ he found you ﹚you were hiding from a horde, he's just glad you're okay...

ALT ¹ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𝒿uno ﹚seeing him with Judith makes you realize you want his babies!

ALT ² ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𝒿uno ﹚seeing you with Judith makes him realize he wants you to have his babies!

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ keep quiet! ﹚this starts with pure filth! Rick can't wait until you're back, he has to have you. NOW.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ negan had you ﹚when Negan comes to gather his stuff at Alexandria, he brings you with him, just to keep Rick in line. Rick missed you.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ aftermath of the lineup…﹚a quiet moment between the two of you, and Rick tries to wash your pain away...

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ terrible timing… ﹚your baby has terrible timing. you're in the middle of nowhere when your water breaks...

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ please just talk to him ﹚you're shutting him out. pls dont.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ little miss green ﹚can't help himself but fantasize about you. farm edition.

♡ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ stranger danger ﹚you're Negans daughter, and Rick wants to hurt the man that's taken so much from him...

immune!user﹙ just their lab rat ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ scientists think you're the cure to all this! Rick agreed to let you be taken (he's sorry!)

immune!user﹙ tests and trials ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they see you as nothing less but a possible cure. Rick is here to make sure you're treated well.

♡ immune!user﹙ time to confess ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ you get bitten, Rick is worried. but he doesn't need to be.

pre-apocalypse﹙ party is over ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ you're his neighbor's kid, and terribly wasted

pre-apocalypse﹙ officer friendly ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ drunk driving gets you into an interesting encounter...

♡ masterlists

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes c.ai #⊹ ࣪ ˖ masterlist ۶ৎ

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chelseypprimrose · 2 years ago

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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.

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grimeshound · 4 months ago

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LIKE FORTNITE, I'MA NEED YOUR SKIN.

word count: 1,517

pairing: negan x you

summary: you decide to try out one of negan's video games, curious about what it might offer. before long, you get distracted and stumble upon something far more tempting to play with.

warnings: 18+, dry humping, grinding, teasing, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk

a/n: title from agora hills cuz i've found myself playing it a lot while writing ... if inside out was real pre-apocalypse gamer negan would be controlling my mind 24/7

---

“Shit!” you cursed, the screen glowing with the dreaded “You Died!” flashing in bold letters.

Behind you, Negan chuckled, that smug bastard leant back in his chair, enjoying your frustration. It wasn’t often he got to see you like this—riled up, cursing at a game the way he usually did. Normally, you’d be the one poking fun at him, teasing him mercilessly when he got too into his games. But tonight, the tables had turned, and he was loving every second of it.

“You good there, darlin’?” he drawled, voice thick with amusement.

You huffed, sitting cross-legged on his lap, the controller gripped tight in your hands. “How the hell do you play these? They’re rigged!”

Negan let out a deep laugh, his chest rumbling against your back. “Oh, sweetheart, they ain’t rigged. You just suck.”

That earned him a sharp glare over your shoulder, but the corner of your mouth twitched. “Help me, then, Mr. Expert.”

He quirked a brow, his grin widening. “You sure? Might cost ya.” You rolled your eyes but handed him the controller anyway. “Just do it.”

He placed his large hands over yours, guiding you as you clumsily pressed the buttons on his controller. His chest pressed flush against your back, his breath ghosting over your ear, making you shiver. You tried focusing on the screen, but the proximity was getting to you, especially when you noticed something else—a certain tension beneath you. Negan was quiet, unusually so, and that silence made you grin. You weren’t married to Negan without learning a thing or two about taking advantage of rare opportunities.

Deciding to test the waters, you shifted slightly in his lap, pretending to adjust your position. The soft groan that escaped him told you all you needed to know. Negan was painfully hard underneath you.

You decided to test your luck further, rolling your hips slightly against him. A low, guttural groan slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

“Like that?” you asked innocently, feigning focus on the screen, though the phrase carried a double-edged meaning.

Negan chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on your hips. “You little tease,” he drawled, his voice thick with approval. “Yeah, just like that. Goddamn.”

Emboldened, you kept going, grinding against him with deliberate intent now. One hand gripped his thigh for support as you moved, feeling the unmistakable hardness beneath you. Your soft gasps filled the room, and you couldn’t help but look down, catching the girthy outline straining against his sweatpants.

“Negan—” you whimpered, breathless, the friction almost too much.

He smirked, the sight of you driving him insane. “What’s the matter, baby? Can’t handle what you started?” His words were a challenge, but his eyes were locked on the way you moved, hungry and dark. You gonna play, or just sit there lookin’ pretty?” Negan teased, his voice dripping with that cocky tone he carried so well. At the same time, he shifted beneath you, just enough to remind you of the pressure growing against your core.

“Hard to concentrate with you distracting me,” you muttered, biting your lip as you felt his hand slide down to your thigh, squeezing gently.

“Distracting, huh?” he chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear. “Sweetheart, you’re the one grindin’ on me like you’re tryin’ to start somethin’.”

Abandoning your hands from the controller entirely, you quickly stripped your shirt, shorts and underwear off, baring yourself to him. Negan’s smirk faltered for just a second as his eyes raked over you, his cock twitching against the confines of his pants. You positioned yourself over him again, letting the rough fabric of his sweatpants rub against your sensitive clit, soaking the material with every movement. The friction was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as you began to rock your hips, slow and deliberate.

Negan let out a low groan, his hands flying to your waist as if to steady himself—or maybe to ground himself in the reality of what you were doing. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, voice strained. “You feel that? Feel how fuckin’ hard you’ve got me?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you moved, each grind sending waves of sensation through your body. The heat radiating from him only added to the intensity, and you couldn’t stop the soft moans spilling from your lips. He couldn’t help the way his cock throbbed so damn hard, like he practically had a second heartbeat.

“Yeah?” he teased, his grip on your hips tightening as he guided your movements. “That feel good, huh? Rubbin’ that pretty little pussy all over me like you own me.”

“I do own you,” you shot back, your voice breathy but filled with playful defiance.

Negan barked out a laugh, though it quickly dissolved into another groan as you shifted, grinding yourself harder against him. Your movements became more frantic, your hips rolling in desperate circles as you chased your release. You tilted your head back, a whimper escaping as the rough fabric hit your clit just right. “Oh, god—Negan,” you gasped, gripping his shoulders for support. “I can’t—it’s so good—”

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Get yourself off. Soak me, make a mess—show me how bad you want it.” Negan groaned, his head falling back against the couch as his hands gripped your hips, guiding you. “Look at this mess you’re makin’.”

“Gonna cum,” you gasped, breathless and desperate.

His grin turned wicked. “Didn’t even touch you, and you’re about to fall apart? Dirty little girl.”

You moaned at his words, hips stuttering as you finally reached your peak, crying out his name as you came hard, soaking the fabric beneath you. Negan’s gaze stayed fixed on you, groaning at the sight of the wet patch you’d left on his pants.

“Damn, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Didn’t know you’d put on a whole fuckin’ show for me. Made a fuckin’ mess on me”

“Sorry, daddy,” you cooed sweetly, lips quirking into a grin. Before he could respond, you slipped off his lap, settling between his legs. “I’ll clean it up for you.”

“Oh, you’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?” Negan chuckled, low and approving, as you tugged his waistband down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, and you wasted no time, wrapping your hand around him and licking a long stripe along the underside.

Negan’s eyes darkened as he looked down at you. “Shit, baby. You really do know how to shut me up.”

You took him into your mouth, sloppy and eager, knowing exactly how he liked it. Your hand worked his base as your lips stretched around him, spit and arousal coating his length. Each groan that rumbled from his chest sent heat pooling between your thighs.

But then a sharp, startled curse tore from Negan’s lips, making you pause.

“Fuckin’ hell!” he barked, glaring at the screen. The dreaded “You Died!” text flashed in bold.

You couldn’t help it—you giggled, the sound muffled as your mouth was still full. Negan’s head snapped down to look at you, his expression torn between frustration and amusement.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” he growled, tossing the controller aside.

Before you could respond, his hands tangled in your hair, holding you firmly as he began fucking into your mouth. The obscene squelching noises filled the room, along with your muffled moans and the occasional gag as he hit the back of your throat. Tears streamed down your face, makeup smudged, but you didn’t care—you loved the way he lost control.

“That’s it, baby,” Negan groaned, his pace relentless. “Fuckin’ take it. Show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

You felt his cock throb, his breaths growing ragged as he reached his peak. With one final thrust, he came deep in your throat, groaning loudly as you struggled to swallow every drop. When he finally pulled out, a string of saliva connected you to him, and you coughed, gasping for air.

“Shit, honey,” he rasped, tapping his cock against your cheek. “Took it like a damn champ.”

He slumped back against the couch, grinning smugly. “C’mere,” he said, gesturing for you to join him.

Climbing back onto his lap, you wrapped your arms around his neck, still catching your breath. He didn’t waste a second, pulling you in for a deep kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that left you dizzy, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. When he finally pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle, still flushed from the intensity.

“We both died,” you said, teasing. “Guess that makes us even.”

He barked a laugh, a low, gravelly sound that made your heart skip. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, as he nodded.

“Guess so. You game for another round?”

A mischievous grin spread across your face. “Always.”

You were more than ready to dive right back in—only this time, you were ready to ditch the game and go straight into the real action.

#negan smith #twd #the walking dead #twd fanfic #negan smith x reader #negan smith smut #twd smut

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lunajay33 · 11 months ago

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Masterlist 2.0

Fluff>☆ Angst>꩜ Spicy>ꨄ︎ Suggestive>❀

Masterlist 1.0

Daryl Dixon🏹

{Pre-Apocalypse}

Too Young> ꩜☆

{Quarry Era}

Soulmate> ☆

Searching for You> ☆꩜ pt.2 pt.3

{Farm Era}

The Farmers Daughter> ꨄ︎

{Prison Era}

Future> ꩜☆

How to tell you I Love You> ☆

Bad Dream> ☆

{Alexandria}

Despair> ꩜

Where’s My Wife> ꩜☆

Am I Gonna Make It> ꩜☆

{Series}

Change->Part.8•Part.9•Part.10•Part.11

New World->Part.15

Suppose to be You->Part.1 Part.2 Part.3

Where are You->Part.1 Part.2 Part.3 Part.4 Part.5 Part.6 Complete

Negan Smith

{Saviours Era}

The Bad Guy> ❀

{Neighbour}

Crave> ☆❀

{Coach}

Just a Taste> ☆ꨄ︎

{Friends Dad}

Desires> ☆ꨄ︎

Sons of Anarchy⛓️‍💥

{Chibs Telford}

The Teller Girl> ꩜☆ꨄ︎ Pt.2

Supernatural🫎🐿️

{Sam Winchester}

New Addition> ꩜☆

Surprise> ☆

Fated> ꩜☆

{Dean Winchester}

Help> ꩜☆

{Castiel}

Secrets> ☆

{Sister}

Protect Me> ꩜

It Got Me> ꩜☆

Twilight🐾

{Paul Lahote}

Destiny> ☆꩜ Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Pain> ꩜

The One> ☆

Why Me? Part.2

{Seth Clearwater}

My Beast> ☆

Valentines> ☆

Best Friend> ☆꩜

{Embry Call}

Desperate> ꩜☆

{Emmett Cullen}

Waiting> ☆꩜ Pt.2

{Felix Volturi}

It’s You> ☆꩜ꨄ︎ Pt.2

{Alec Volturi}

Am I Good Enough> ꩜☆

Acotar🦇✨

{Azriel}

Struggle> ꩜☆

All in my Head> ꩜

Hold me> ꩜☆

My Princess> ꨄ︎☆

Overlooked> ꩜ Pt.2

{Cassian}

Innocent> ꨄ︎☆

A Part of Me> ꩜☆

Wrong Outcome> ꩜☆

{Eris}

The Deer and the Fox> ☆

Afraid> ꩜☆

{Kallias}

Drowning in your Love> ☆❀

{Eris & Azriel}

Never the Right Time> ꩜☆

Tvd💋

{Jeremy Gilbert}

Target> ꩜☆

{Klaus Mikaelson}

Against the Group> ❀☆

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zirconika · 8 months ago

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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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misguidedasgardian · 6 months ago

Text

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

#misguidedcats #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #daryl dixion imagine #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl #daryl dixon #negan #negan smith #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd

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norman-fucking-reedus · 1 year ago

Text

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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#daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #fluff #smut #the walking dead #twd #daryl x female reader #daryl dixion smut

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juuuulez · 2 years ago

Text

📰 | 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.

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #negan smith x reader #negan smith #twd x you #the walking dead #carl grimes

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