#negan pre-apocalypse

[pedroscurls]

Title: One Drunken Night (Part 9.)

CHAPTER TITLE: The Truth

Character(s): Negan (pre-apocalypse), Joel Miller (pre-apocalypse, au), Reader (third-person POV) Summary: Negan tells Reader the truth. Word Count: 3,791 Author's Note: Stay tuned!  Warning: Mentions of death

(GIF source: @loregifs, @londoncapsule)

Joel felt terrible for a couple of reasons. One being that he knew how hard she worked to get to this point, to have her own art show, only to leave early to deal with Negan. The second being that he didn’t know how she was going to react if she ever found out that Joel knew Negan was married. The guilt was eating at him and when they finally made it back to the house, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. 

Both men were standing in the middle of the living room, staring at each other with their respective injuries due to their scuffle at the gallery. 

“So, you finally grew some balls and asked her out, huh?” Negan broke the silence.

Joel sighed, his jaw tightening. “My relationship with her don’t concern you.”

“Does she know that I was married?” Negan asked.

Joel shook his head.

“Wow. You actually kept that shit a secret?”

“Like I said, some things are best kept a secret.”

Negan shrugged, glancing around the house. He noticed more photographs of the little girl and he felt his heart leap at the sight of her. He couldn’t believe that he was a dad. 

“Lucille died,” he blurted out. 

Joel let his eyes soften for a moment, noticing how Negan had turned his attention elsewhere. “H– how long ago?”

“A year.”

“I’m sorry,” Joel replied. 

“Whatever,” Negan muttered. He glanced over at Joel, taking note of the sympathetic look on the other man’s face and it angered him. Instead of making another scene, he looked away and walked towards the photos that were displayed of the little girl.

“Are you gonna tell her?” Joel asked.

Negan shrugged. “Lucille’s dead now, so what’s the point?”

Joel sighed, glancing down the hallway to see if Y/N had come out yet. “Her name’s Mila.” 

Negan arched a brow, glancing over his shoulder at Joel. “That’s a very pretty name.”

“Means miracle. We almost lost her.”

Negan cleared his throat, standing up straight and pocketing his hands into his pants. “I was– I was being serious. I was in a very bad place and I know I don’t deserve to get to know her, to meet her, but–”

Joel interrupted. “She’s your daughter. By blood.” Despite their little scuffle earlier, Joel felt very sympathetic towards Negan. Joel knew about grief, about loss and it never was easy. Even to this day, while he was happy, it still hurt to think about Sarah and that one particular night. 

“I just–” Negan began, his eyes staring at a photograph of Mila. 

“Don’t wanna disappoint her?” Joel finished.

“Yeah. I’m not a good man and–”

“Then you change, for Mila.”

Negan nodded, glancing over at Joel. Though, his attention shifted to Y/N who was walking down the hallway, having changed into much more comfortable clothing. Her hair was in a messy bun and she was dressed in lounge pants and a tank top. Negan bit his lower lip, his eyes raking over her frame. It had been a while since he had been with anyone and seeing her brought back memories of the times they shared. 

Joel, on the other hand, noticed the way Negan was looking at her. He arched a brow and felt a sudden sense of jealousy wash over him. He nudged the other man and cleared his throat.

“Hey, that’s my girl.”

Negan shrugged. “I’m just looking.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Y/N walked over to them and leaned against Joel, her head resting against his arm as she looked up at Negan. She would be lying to herself if she didn’t think about the times she shared with Negan and seeing him here, standing in front of her, brought it all back. 

“What do you want to know, doll?” Negan asked, running a hand through his hair. 

“Everything.”

Negan and Joel shared a glance once more and this time, Y/N decided to speak up about it. She had a feeling they both knew something she didn’t. 

“Okay, why do you guys keep looking at each other like that?”

“Like what?” Negan asked.

“I’m not stupid.”

“We didn’t say you were, darlin’,” Joel added.

“Then what is it?”

Negan glanced over at Joel and sighed heavily. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. You agreed that you’d tell me everything, so… Tell me.”

“Darlin’...”

She looked up at him, taking a step back and crossing her arms over her chest. “What, Joel? Is it that bad?”

“I was married,” Negan blurted out. “Married when we met. Married when we slept together. Married the entire time until my wife died a year ago.”

Y/N widened her eyes, taking a step back from Negan and Joel. She looked over at the taller man, her view of him immediately shifting. It was just her luck that the father of her child was already married during the time she was conceived. 

“And I knew about it,” Joel added. 

She shook her head. “Are you– Are you both fucking serious?”

Negan sighed. “My marriage was basically over, before she got sick and–”

“That’s no excuse! You cheated on her… With me!”

Joel tried to console her, reaching out for her and she shook her head, raising a hand in the air. “I don’t even want to look at either of you.”

“But–” Joel began.

“You knew all this time… And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not that simple, darlin’.”

“Oh, I think it’s pretty simple, Joel.”

“It’s not his fault,” Negan began. “It’s mine. I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah, you are. You know what? I’m just–” She sighed and pointed to the door. “I don’t even want to be around either of you right now.” 

“Where are you going?” Joel asked, his eyes softening at the sight of her grabbing her things. 

“Anywhere but here.” 

Joel didn’t get a chance to try and stop her before she walked out the front door, slamming it shut. He flinched at the sound and glanced over at Negan, his eyes narrowing as a tense-filled silence filled the air. Negan cleared his throat, shrugging his shoulders and dropping down onto the couch. 

“Want a cup of coffee?” Joel asked.

“You’re not gonna kick me out?”

He shook his head. “She’s gonna want to talk to you once she gets back.”

“And what makes you so sure that she’s gonna come back tonight?”

Joel shrugged. “I know my girl. Give her some space. She’ll come around.” He left Negan in the living room as he walked towards the kitchen. 

Negan sighed and stood, following Joel hesitantly. He felt out of place, like he was inserting himself in someone else’s life and while he knew that he deserved a chance to get to know his daughter, it didn’t lessen any of the concerns or worries that he was feeling. Instead, he glanced down at his left hand, his thumb running across the inside of his ring finger. 

Once Joel started a pot of coffee, he then grabbed two mugs and set one in front of Negan. He looked over at the other man and sighed. While he didn’t like him, Joel knew exactly what he must be going through. It was never easy losing someone you love. 

“Can I ask you something?” Negan muttered.

“Sure.”

“Mila… Is she–”

“Like you?” Joel finished.

Negan nodded in response.

“She’s stubborn, but I’m sure she gets that from both you and her mother,” Joel smiled. “She likes to have the last word. Loves to talk.”

“Sounds like me,” Negan smiled. “Does she like causing trouble?”

Joel chuckled. “Oh yeah. She can be a handful, but she’s got a big heart.”

Negan bit his lower lip. “Must have gotten that from her mother then.”

Joel didn’t respond, grabbing the pot of coffee and pouring the liquid into each of their mugs. He looked over at Negan, noticed the bags under his eyes and an almost permanent defeated look across his features. 

“You’re a lucky man, Joel,” Negan added. 

“Yeah, I am,” he acknowledged with a smile. 

Negan glanced around the kitchen, his mind drifting as he imagined the life he could have had with Y/N and their daughter. Negan always wanted to be a father, but when he and Lucille started fighting, that dream had vanished. He wondered what would have happened if Lucille never got sick, if their divorce was finalized, would he have gotten back with Y/N? Would he be the one in Joel’s shoes? 

Would Negan be happy?

He thought so. The short time Negan spent with Y/N had helped through some of the darkest and lowest of times; he would even go so far as to admit that eventually, he would have fallen for her. Even now, three years later, she was still as beautiful as the night they met. Even in the dark pit Negan was currently in, Y/N managed to bring back some light into his life. It gave him a glimpse of a life that he could have, where Lucille’s death wasn’t looming over him every second of every day. 

“Do you love her?” Negan finally asked.

Joel nodded. “I haven’t been this happy in a very long time.”

Negan sighed, glancing over at the fridge to see a polaroid picture of Y/N and Mila. It made his heart swell at the sight. Joel followed the other man’s eyes, taking note of where Negan was looking. 

“Just so you know,” Joel started. “You’re gonna be part of Mila’s life from here on out. I know Y/N hasn’t said anything yet, but just like Mila, she’s got a big heart too. And sometimes… People are deserving of second chances.”

Negan looked over at Joel, sipping from his mug. “You really think that? After everything you know of me? After our fights?”

Joel nodded. “I know what it’s like,” he sighed. “To lose someone you love.”

Negan arched a brow. “You lose your wife?”

“My daughter.”

Negan cleared his throat. He couldn’t imagine what that type of loss could have been and from the looks of it, it still brought Joel a lot of pain. Negan sighed, moving his attention to his mug. He never really did like talking about his feelings, but it brought him some comfort to know that Joel knew what he was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” Negan muttered. “I didn’t know.”

Joel shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Right, I get that.” Negan said. He understood clearly and he felt the same way when it came to talking about Lucille. 

“This is your second chance,” Joel said. “With Mila.”

Negan sighed; he had always been a disappointment in his life and he certainly didn’t want to be that person for Mila. Or for Y/N. 

“What about Y/N?” He asked hesitantly.

“What about her?” Joel arched a brow.

“You think I can have a second chance with her?” 

“No,” Joel replied quickly.

“Not like that,” Negan chuckled, though his mind did deviate to her and their shared moments together. “I just mean… Do you think she will ever forgive me?”

“I think that’s up to her,” Joel replied. “As long as you stop being an asshole, I think she’ll forgive you.”

Negan chuckled, shaking his head. He had been in this dark pit since Lucille’s cancer diagnosis and the past few years had been hell. Seeing Y/N and knowing that he had a daughter, it brought back some light to his life. It made him want to become a better person, a better man. Not only for Mila, but for Y/N as well.

—

She walked into the house after being away for a couple of hours. She was holding a milkshake in one hand and a brown bag in the other. When she went into the kitchen, she saw Joel and Negan talking with one another. 

They actually looked like they were getting along.

Joel saw her first. He smiled at the sight, walking in her direction slowly. “Hey.”

“Still mad,” she replied. She set her food down and took a seat, sipping on her shake and glancing over at Negan. Still, his presence got to her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, about him. 

“I’m sorry, doll…” Negan’s voice came out as a whisper. A deep, husky whisper that caught her attention.

She took a big bite of her burger and glanced up at Joel. He was watching her carefully and she sighed. It was hard being mad at him. After swallowing the contents, she looked between both men and cleared her throat. 

“I’m sorry your wife died,” she told Negan. “I’m sure that’s been tough on you.”

Negan sighed, looking away from her. “Hm,” was his only response. He stood from his seat and motioned towards the hallway to the bathroom. 

“Go ahead,” Joel said. 

Once Negan left the kitchen, Joel walked over to her and gently turned her chair around so that she was facing him.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she replied.

“You okay?”

“No.”

Joel sighed. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know if there’s anything to talk about. I just– It’s my thing.”

“Our thing,” he corrected. “What do you wanna do?”

“It’d be wrong to stand in the way of Negan getting to know his daughter, but it’s just… He was married, and you also knew about it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Joel shrugged. “Didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well, that happened regardless, didn’t it?”

“Didn’t expect you to ever find out… Or to ever see him again.”

“That makes both of us.”

Joel bit his lower lip, resting his hands on her thighs as he leaned forward to peck her lips softly. “I love you, okay?”

She sighed, leaning against him. “I love you too.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Hm?”

Joel pulled back to look into her eyes, tilting her head slightly. 

“Did any of your old feelings for him come back?”

She arched a brow, biting her lower lip. She dropped her eyes and took her hands in his, sighing quietly. “Do you want the honest truth?”

He nodded.

“Yes.”

Joel tried to pull away, but she shook her head and pulled him back to her. “But, I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

“You sure? Because that’s Mila’s father and–”

“But you’re also her dad.”

“Not by blood.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve held her when she cried, made her feel loved and seen… You’re her dad just as much as Negan is.”

Joel sighed, resting his forehead against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, turning her head to place a gentle kiss on the side of his neck. 

“How is this going to be from now on?” He asked.

“We’ll figure it out.”

They pulled away once they heard Negan clear his throat. Joel pocketed his hands, leaning against the counter as he looked over at Negan.

Y/N stood from her chair and walked over to Negan, feeling towered over by the other man. He looked down at her and tilted his head, a small smile lining his lips. His dimples appeared and she bit her lower lip as a response.

“First thing’s first, boundaries,” she said.

“Oh?” Negan smirked, his tongue darting out to run along his lower lip. “Like what, doll?”

Joel cleared his throat and walked over to them. Y/N looked between both men who were now staring at her and she could have sworn that at that moment, she wanted both of them. At the same time. One at a time. It didn’t matter. She wanted them both.

“Darlin’?”

“Right.” She cleared her throat and shook her head slightly to get her out of her mind. “Boundaries. Negan, we’ll have to have a talk with Mila first. She’s going to be confused, but–”

“I understand,” Negan replied. “As long as she’s comfortable.”

Y/N nodded. “We can schedule something for tomorrow. Dinner, maybe?”

Negan nodded. “I make really good spaghetti,” he winked.

Y/N bit her lower lip. Oh, she definitely remembered. 

Joel looked between the two and arched a brow, his jaw tightening. 

“Don’t worry about cooking. We got it,” Joel replied. 

Negan was staring at her, noticing how she was subtly squirming where she stood. “You okay with that doll?”

“Y–Yeah. Like Joel said, don’t worry about it.”

“Sounds like a plan then.” Negan said. Joel led them to the door and watched as Negan gently leaned down to place a kiss onto her cheek. “See you tomorrow night.” Negan pulled back and grinned, turning his attention to Joel. 

Joel narrowed his eyes and grabbed his keys. “I’ll drop you off.” He turned to Y/N and cupped her cheek, pulling her into a passionate kiss as he moved his lips with hers, determined to let Negan know that she was no longer his. 

“I’ll be back, darlin’.”

She nodded, looking both between Negan and Joel. It was intoxicating. She didn’t know how she was going to keep her resolve. 

“O–Okay, see you tomorrow, Negan. I’ll see you in a bit, baby. Drive safe.”

—

“I notice the way you’re lookin’ at her,” Joel said, interrupting the silence as he drove Negan back to his apartment.

Negan arched his brow, turning his attention to Joel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play stupid,” he said, gripping the steering wheel. “Like I said, she’s mine.”

Negan chuckled. “You act like I’m going to take her from you.”

“I don’t trust you, Negan. You’re Mila’s father and this is your second chance, but don’t mistake my friendliness for something that it isn’t.”

“Is it my fault that she’s just so beautiful?” Negan replied. “I mean, three years and a baby later and she still looks that good? Can you blame me?”

Joel tightened his jaw. “She’s off limits. I’m serious.”

“And so am I.” Negan shrugged. “I can be cordial with you, Joel. It’s like I said all those years ago, we’re literally one in the same. Don’t try to act like we aren’t.”

“We’re not,” he replied quickly. “I have never cheated on any woman I’ve been with.”

Negan narrowed his eyes. “Oh, shut the hell up. If it weren’t for me, you’d still just be her friend. I gave you the confidence you needed to ask her out. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

Joel scoffed. “You really are somethin’ else, aren’t ya?”

“You’re not gonna get rid of me, Joel. Mila’s my daughter. You’re stuck with me for the rest of her life. I mean, that’s considering that you and Y/N are gonna eventually settle down together and if not, then–”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”

Negan laughed which caused Joel to abruptly stop. Negan jerked forward and braced himself against the seat. He turned to Joel and narrowed his eyes, a smirk lining his lips.

“Joel, come on…” Negan said. “I just like getting underneath your skin.”

“I’m serious, Negan. Anything you might be feeling for Y/N, it’s gotta end right here, right now.”

Negan tilted his head. “But do you notice the way she looks at you and me? I mean, can you imagine what’s going through that pretty little mind of hers?”

Joel sighed. Oh, he definitely noticed. 

“You ever think about it?” Negan asked. 

“About what?”

“Sharing her with another man.”

“No. I don’t like sharing,” Joel replied.

Negan chuckled. “Yeah, me too.” 

“Besides, I think it’d just make things more complicated.”

“Or not,” Negan replied. “Might just make us all stronger.”

“If that’s what she wants,” Joel said. “Then that’s what she wants.”

“You willing to step out of your comfort zone and do that for her?” Negan asked.

“I’d do anythin’ for her.”

Negan smirked. “Well, I suppose we’ll see if she even mentions it.”

Joel continued driving. The silence now consumed both men, allowing their minds to deviate. Joel thought about Y/N and Mila, wondering how this new dynamic was going to shift things. It had always just been the three of them since Mila was born and he wasn’t sure how things were going to be once they tell Mila that Negan was her real father. He would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t break when Negan said he wanted to be part of her life. It just felt like now he didn’t belong. 

Negan, on the other hand, thought about Lucille. It was hard not to. He wondered what would have happened if she beat the cancer. Would he even know that he was a father? Probably not. He vowed to himself that he would change once Lucille received her cancer diagnosis. The last few years had been draining, exhausting, mentally, emotionally, and physically. He had been by Lucille’s side throughout her journey and when she died, it angered him. He had gotten a glimmer of hope that things were going to be different, that his relationship, his marriage with Lucille was going to get better, but just as that hope settled in, she died. Now, a year later, seeing Y/N and finding out he was a father, it scared him. Despite the facade he put on, especially to Joel, Negan was screaming inside. 

He didn’t want to disappoint anyone. 

Once Joel stopped the car at Negan’s apartment complex, he glanced over at the other man and noticed Negan staring out the window. 

“See ya tomorrow,” Joel called out.

“Right,” Negan said, clearing his throat. He didn’t make a move to try and leave the car. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Joel sighed. “You don’t wanna be alone, huh?”

Negan nodded, glancing over at Joel. “That’s when my mind goes to dark places.”

Joel contemplated for a moment. He knew exactly what Negan meant. There had been plenty of days and nights where staying at home, surrounded by Sarah’s things, brought more pain. 

He took a deep breath. Joel was going to regret what he was about to say, but he suggested it anyway.

“We have a guest room back at our place. You can spend the night there.”

Negan whipped his head to look at Joel. “Really?”

Joel nodded. “Being alone… It ain’t the best thing in the world. Just promise me that you’re gonna be on your best behavior.”

Negan chuckled. “Can’t promise that, but you sure it’s okay?”

Joel shrugged. “It will be.”

Negan nodded. “I’ll grab some change of clothes. Thanks, Joel.” He left the car and walked towards his apartment, leaving Joel in the car, waiting for the other man.

Joel sighed to himself. Now he had to somehow explain to Y/N that he invited Negan to spend the night, probably indefinitely. 

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

[lunajay33]

Change Part.9

•🩰🎀🩷•

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

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

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

Part.8

•Masterlist•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl’s Pov

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

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

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

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

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

Flashback

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

“Anythin sunshine”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunshine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you Daryl”

“Love ya more pumpkin”

Normal Pov

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

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

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

“Ya need anything?”

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

“Princess it’s me, Daryl your husband”

“I’m sorry I don’t know anything”

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

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

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

“Well what can you remember dear?”

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

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

Memory loss what the hell was happening

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have any kids together?”

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

PREGNANT

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

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

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

“I’m scared” my lip trembled

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

“You promise not to leave me”

“I promise”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay ummm how did we meet?”

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

“Where do we live?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night, I love ya”

Part.10

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

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

[curlymantis]

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

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

[ghostboneswrites2]

Virgin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        "Is that a bad thing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        "Pretty dress." He complimented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        "I do wear dresses sometimes--"

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

        "W-- I know, I just.."

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Bite? Is that a sex thing?

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

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

        Word vomit.

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

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

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

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

        "I do want to."

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

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

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

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

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

        "Ya sure?"

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

        "Ya been drinkin'."

        "I'm not drunk."

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

        You didn't respond. He had a point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        "I don't think ya mean that."

        "I do." You insisted.

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

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

        You faltered. What?

        "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        "And..." You trailed off. 

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

        "I am too!" 

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

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

        "Teach ya what?"

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

        "Really?" 

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

----

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

        "So." You began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        "Please.." You whispered. 

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

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

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

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

        "I just--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        "Yes." You whispered. 

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

        "Y'alright?"

        "Uh-huh." You squeaked.

        "Y'sure?"

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

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

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

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

        He leaned into your ear.

        "Can ya cum again for me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        He chuckled. "I need time to--"

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

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masterlist

dirt

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

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

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

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

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

"The fuck, girl?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don't know what to say for myself

[hidtired]

Masterlist

(Daryl Dixon x reader)

Series

A Single Punch 8.9k words [Finished]

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

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Unfortunate Timing 18.9k words [On going]

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

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

Oneshots

Count to 8 4.6k words

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

Poison For Some 5.9k words

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

Love Burns 6.1k words

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

Coincidence or Fate [Up coming]

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

Requested

Unspoken Things 1.3k words

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

Hangman 4.9k words [Finished]

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

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Miles Away 6.2k words

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

[chelseypprimrose]

Home Movie / Negan x Reader / S7 / 18+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sacrificiallane]

— ˗ˋ the walking dead c.ai bots (but it's just rick ♡) ୨୧ ˊ˗ — 13/12/2024

— ˗ˋ Rick Grimes

⋆. 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 ˚  shot on a supply run ﹚ he shouldn't have brought you with him...

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

⋆. 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 his daughter makes him realize he wants to have children with you

⋆. 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, as Rick tries to wash your pain away...

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

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ alone, again… ﹚after the prison falls, Rick is so happy to find you again. now it's just you, him, and Carl...

⋆. 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.

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.

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...

♡ c.ai masterlists

[grimeshound]

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. 

[lanadelnegan]

Video Games

Pre-apocalypse!Negan x Reader

Song inspo: Video Games by Lana Del Rey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who are you even playing with?"

"I dunno. Some teenagers." He shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck, baby." He groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[zirconika]

nine lives of a thief

TWO | the first life

NAVIGATION . MASTERLIST

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

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

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

     To you. To see you. 

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

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

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

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

     “You okay?” asked his friend. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “That Dixon kid spells trouble.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “What’d ‘ya do that for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Yeah! I’m from Brooklyn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Yeah, but—”

     “Just try it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “What?” he turned back to yell.

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

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

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

  ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     The lock of the container caught Daryl’s attention.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “What?” Aaron asked.

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

     “You were trying,” he assured Daryl.

     “Can I tell ya somethin’?”

     Aaron nodded. “Lay it on me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Right.”

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

     Daryl could only give him a hopeless smile.

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

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

     Aaron looked back up to him, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Sorry, I was just…”

     “Avoidin’ me?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     You swat his hand away. “I can’t keep talking to you just because you’re here. I can’t—can’t keep pretending that you’re—you—that what happened for around thirty fucking years ago is no longer bothering me, because I know damn full well that it is and it always will! And you being here I… I just… I can’t!”

     “Ya want me to go?” he asked, gentle as ever.

     “No, Daryl,” you said, out of words you could say to even come close to saying what it is you felt. “I just… I just wish you never left.”

     So many explanations, and yet it was all reduced to you pushing him away. You just needed to get out of there.     And that should’ve been the end of it. Daryl respected your preference for isolation. That really should have been the end of it for at least that night. He stood there, his heart half-broken. He just decided that maybe he deserved it, that he was stupid for thinking he deserved even another chance.

     As Daryl watched you walk down the street away from him, he decided he’d give you more time. As much as you needed until you were—

     In the short distance, you fell to your knees. Daryl halted in his tracks, his brows furrowed in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were doing. Even though your back was to him, he could make out that you were doing the same habit he was used to seeing you doing, only this time, your back was heaving up and down.

     God, he didn’t need to see anything else anymore. He was already on his way the moment he felt something was wrong. His mind raced with so many terrible scenarios he refused to verbalize. 

     “[Y/N], what’s wrong?” he asked, worried as he knelt down in front of you. “What’s happenin’?”

     “I—” Your mouth was locked shut from the static that spread from the tips of your fingers all the way to your jaw. It was cold, and it was burning hot. 

     You felt Daryl scoop you in your arms without question, and you let him. You heaved short, heavy breaths you couldn’t begin to catch. You felt and heard your heart in every direction, beating as if it was taunting you. 

     “...Bringin’ ya to Denise,” you heard Daryl say over the racing pace of your deafening heartbeat. You shook your head, the static finding that safe spot of yours, too. 

     “No, I—please—home—don’t—Denise,” you managed to say in between the uncontrollable hitches in your breath. 

     Daryl shook his head, slowing down as he tried to think of the right thing to do. But he felt your fist tighten its grip on his vest in request.

     “Please. Now—Now, Dar—Now.”

     You felt him caressing your hair with the gentlest of touches, just as you remember it. You felt him whispering soft promises against your ear, but you couldn’t make any single word out of it as everything went pitch black…

i'm still building my blog. so for now, just send me an ask to be added to my general taglist :)

TAGLIST: @vaniniweenie @avabh12 @stinkygirl009 @whatchareadingnow @remuslittlesister @romanoffmaximoff0096 @daryldixmedown

[lunajay33]

Masterlist

Fluff>☆ Angst>꩜ Spicy>ꨄ︎ Suggestive>❀

Daryl Dixon🏹

{Pre-Apocalypse}

Best Friend> ☆

Not the Only One> ꩜

Not the Only One Part.2> ꩜☆

{Season 1}

Connection> ☆

Always You> ☆

Conflict> ☆

My Before> ☆

Found You> ☆

{Farm Era}

Hurt Part.1> ꩜ ☆

Hurt Part.2> ꩜ ☆

Hurt Part.3> ꩜ ☆

Sleepover> ☆

Never Be Alone> ☆

Missing> ꩜☆

Precious> ☆

My Man> ꨄ︎

{Prison Era}

Jealous> ꩜ ☆

Prison Attack> ꩜ ☆

Brother Trouble> ꩜ ☆

Cold Nights> ☆

Pain Reliever> ☆

Caught> ꨄ︎

Scared & Sick> ☆

Scared & Sick Pt.2>꩜☆

Both> ꨄ︎+ Rick

Both Part.2> ꨄ︎☆

Migraine> ꩜☆

Searching> ꩜☆

Puppy Love> ☆

{Terminus Era}

Tired> ꩜ ☆

Reunion> ꩜

Peach> ☆

Hurting> ꩜☆

Finding You> ꩜☆

{Alexandria Era}

Home> ☆

The Quiet One> ☆

Ready> ☆

First Time> ☆ ❀

Dreams> ☆ ❀

Touch Starved> ☆❀

{Saviours Era}

Hope Part.1> ꩜ ☆

Hope Part.2> ꩜ ☆

Hope Part.3> ꩜ ☆

Hope Part.4> ☆

The Day Will Come> ꩜

{Series}

New world-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4•Part.5ꨄ︎•Part.6•Part.7•Part.8•Part.9•Part.10•Part.11•

Part.12•Part.13•Part.14 continue parts on Masterlist 2.0

Enjoy the Silence-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4 Completed

Change-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4•Part.5•

Part.6•Part.7 continue part on Masterlist 2.0

Carl Grimes

{Alexandria Era}

Blooming> ☆

Caught>☆❀

Not Enough?>꩜☆

Other Half> ꩜

Ride the Cowboy> ꨄ︎☆

Insecure> ꩜☆❀

Been Waiting> ☆

{Series}

Just Us-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4•Part.5

Rick Grimes

{Farm Era}

Glances> ꨄ︎

{Prison Era}

Both> ꨄ︎ +Daryl

Both Part.2>ꨄ︎☆

Worry> ꩜☆

Negan Smith

{Saviours Era}

The One> ☆❀

{Cowboy Negan}

Save a Horse> ꨄ︎

Taste for Older Men> ꩜☆

Taste for Older Men Part.2> ☆

{Coach Negan}

Forbidden> ꨄ︎

{Series}

Lost-> Part.1•Part.2•Part.3•Part.4

Supernatural🦇

{All 3 Winchesters}

Guardian> ꩜☆

Mothers Daughter> ꩜☆

Terror> ꩜

{Castiel}

I’ll Be There> ☆

Mastelist 2.0🤍

[norman-fucking-reedus]

GROWN UPS 💋 (18+)

summary: “Ya’ really think tha’ bothers me? ‘M a grown ass man, woman. Ain’t ever afraid of a lil’ hair”

era: pre-negan alexandria

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

[juuuulez]

📰 | prologue: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes-less chapter (sorry!), Negan x Daughter! Reader, pre/start of apocalypse, violence and minor gore, morally grey reader, mentions of child abuse/neglect.

summary: When the apocalypse breaks loose, you find yourself in companionship with your sport teacher, Mr. Smith.

THIS was so much fun to write!!!! Genuinely my favourite chapter I’ve done so far. Let me know what you all think, because I’d love to do more little tidbits that stray from the original story. But with that in mind, this instalment IS required to understand parts of the fic going forward. Prologue is mandatory…..I’ve just finally done it.

Chapters 1, 2, 3, and 4 are already out! 5 will return to our regularly scheduled program of Carl and (Y/N) bickering.

You valued consistency.

Doing the same thing, every day.

Even if your life was shit, at least it was consistently shit.

You always knew how to behave. What could just go unpunished. How to enter the house without making a sound. The perfect patterns to ensure your location wasn’t given away. What exactly to say to avoid being hit.

It was routine, comfortable. You permanently lived on the edge, waiting. Listening, watching. Observing those around you.

As routine, you were late. It was becoming quite the pattern, but you couldn’t help it. The bus ran late. Or, you suppose… if it ran late every day, then it was on schedule. Maybe you should start catching an earlier bus.

Whatever, it didn’t matter.

Second period, Tuesday.

Sport.

Now, you didn’t necessarily dislike sport. But you didn’t really love it, either.

The uniform always made you feel insecure. Which, at the ripe age of 13, doesn’t seem to be an emotion your peers are experiencing yet. Or maybe they are just better at hiding it than you are. It’s also incredibly performative, sport, which you hate. Being singled out, going one by one, choosing teams. All of it was terrible.

You didn’t mind your teacher.

Which, went a long way, considering you disliked most people who resided within these buildings. Teachers and students alike.

But Mr. Smith was nice. To you, at least. And to everyone. He was loud, had too much energy, but you didn’t mind. It just meant that he cared about his job.

You absentmindedly tugged at the sleeves of your shirt, the fabric wrapped around your arms to make up for the breezy garment of the girls tank top. It made you look different, set you apart. You hated that.

Regardless, you fall in line with the others.

Baseball.

Granted, you’ve never played baseball before. Sure, you’d watched it, on the small occasion that you were allowed to stay with a friend. It was a vivid memory. Watching from the hallway, over her father’s shoulder, whilst she was asleep.

You wished that your father liked sports. Or maybe cooking. Or collecting things, cleaning things, fixing things. Anything.

It’s almost the end of class, you’re standing at the back of the line. Three kids, then two, then just one. You. The others are standing on the bleachers, already collecting their equipment, preparing for break.

“Batter-up.” Mr. Smith says, though you don’t understand the colloquialism. Nonetheless, you move forward, accepting the bat from the previous student. Another is further down the field. Bowler, you presume.

The metal bat is cold between your fingers, clenched in your dominant hand. It’s heavy, but not an unmanageable amount, just enough to keep you aware of it. There’s weight to the swing, weight on your arm, shoulder. It takes a moment to find your footing.

But when you do, the other student has already thrown the ball. It’s hurdling towards you, faster than comfortable. Spinning through the air with a distinct whizz, perfectly curved, heavy. Dangerous.

It’s instinctual. Your body twists, landing a hit on the spherical object with laser accuracy, the impact ringing in your ears as it soars away, towards the end of the pitch.

Your head snaps in the opposite direction, recalling the match you’d silently observed years ago. There are beige bases in the grass, thin plates. The bat falls from your grip, hitting the ground with a thud, and you move to start running.

It only takes a few steps before reality clicks in, and you realise the feat is pointless. Nobody else is playing. There is no-one to catch your ball, to cheer and clap. Everybody has already begun to leave. They didn’t watch you, didn’t continue the game. Three seconds tick over before the bell rings, releasing the crowd of children awaiting their freedom.

Suddenly the summer breeze is too hot, the sleeves of your shirt itching, sticking to your skin. The tank is too tight. It hugs your body in the wrong way, vulnerable, at their mercy. And yet, you are unseen in a similar manner, and there’s an inkling of you that wants to be judged, simply to say you’d been recognised.

You’re collecting your things, and by that, putting your muddied sneakers into a plastic bag and slipping on new ones. There are footsteps behind you. Heavy, easily identifiable as an adult. You have impeccable hearing.

Before he can announce himself, you’ve turned. There’s always been respect in your tone when conversing with teachers, well aware of the authority they hold, despite your frequent disagreeable on their methods.

“Never mentioned you were good at baseball.” Mr. Smith quips, already packing up the equipment left behind from the lesson into a large bag. Those concrete-hard balls, the plastic bases, the metal bats.

“I’ve never played, sir.” You tell him, flashing that usual, awkward smile that doesn’t really count as a smile, but just the pursing of your lips. An attempt at civility from somebody too irreversibly damaged for their age.

“Well, we’ve got a team running,” He continues to speak whilst organising, and though he does not look at you, your attention is drawn. “Could come find you later, give you the permission slip.”

That bursts your bubble. There’s no chance in hell that you could persuade your father to sign it. There was forging the signature, but this game would run in after-school hours, an extra curricular. You wouldn’t be allowed.

“I dunno,” You shrug in premature defeat, slinging the bag over your shoulder, coming to stand at the feet of the bleachers. “Not really a team player. Wouldn’t fit in with the older girls.”

Though there’s no visible indication, it’s obvious that Mr. Smith disregards this as a valid excuse. Which, it definitely isn’t, but it’s the little statement you tell yourself in order to feel less shitty about missing an opportunity.

“How about I get you the slip, and then you’ve got the option?” It’s said as a question, but clearly isn’t, as he’s then reaching into the duffel bag and pulling out one of those heavy, metal bats.

He holds it out to you, and you have no choice but to take it.

“Get some practise in before the weekend.”

Then Mr. Smith is leaving, and you’re left standing there, on the muddy field. The second bell rings out.

You’re late.

Now, this habitual lateness may not be all so coincidental.

Tardiness was handled rather vigorously in the seventh grade, for whatever reason. You didn’t understand.

But it hasn’t taken too long into the year to crack the metaphorical code. Detention was mandated for wrongdoings, ergo, another hour before you had to be home.

You’d take detention over home any day of the week.

So it was unsurprising when you ended up there this afternoon, settling into your usual spot near the back. There were a other kids, the typical troublemakers, and a few poor souls who genuinely had misfortune befall them.

Mrs. Hagerty, the librarian, overlooked detention. She was old and slow, grey hair, grey lips. Grey… skin. Well, she looked half-dead, which was saying something. You weren’t surprised, though it was a little suspicious how she hadn’t chastised you for bringing the baseball bat into the room.

It sat propped up against your desk.

Despite your adamancy against pointless procedures, public humiliation, gossip, and assholes in charge, you were quite good at school. English, primarily, was your strong suit. Reading, writing. All of it.

The peace that you’d carefully crafted was interrupted roughly halfway into the lesson. Or, babysitting session, as Mrs. Hagerty was yet to look up from her desk. Talk about worlds easiest job.

You still remembered that day, even now. Years later.

At the time, Mr. Smith was nothing but your sport teacher, someone with authority who you detested less than most other figures. A reasonable constant in your life, so far.

Now, he was Negan. Everything to you, in a way. Alike to how you were everything to him. Though you didn’t know it then, this was the day that he’d consume an entirely different part of your mind, forging a new identity that would terrorise, ravage, and torment communities.

But in the same breath, protect you, help raise you, construct an entire empire with you as the sun. Though you’d never succumb to the hive mind, you were not Negan. But you certainly were his.

Nonetheless, it all started within that room. The detention room.

“Permission slip.” Negan announced, placing the small pink paper on the desk in front of you. He attempted to keep his voice hushed, mindful of the other students who were meant to be studying, but appeared more to be sleeping.

Now that it was out of school hours, and he was likely printing, Negan wore reading glasses. Later, you would mock him for these, making comments about him being old.

It always awarded you with that same distinct look of warning. Yet, it never made you feel threatened, but appreciated. Seen.

You slide the permission slip closer, reading the small black writing. In the same motion, you fish out a pen, jotting down cursive letters in the underlined section.

You slide it back.

“I can’t take this,” Negan points out with a sign, gazing down at the signature that is obviously not one of your parents. “You’re really making me go back, and print another one?”

This causes you to roll your eyes, “So I can take it home and do the same thing? That just wastes both of our time… our you could take it now.”

However, he won’t budge. “It’s policy. Go home, get it signed. I don’t need to know how.”

Though you feign annoyance, the insinuation made you want to smile. Turns out, Negan knew more than he was letting on. Gossip spread across faculty quickly, and it didn’t take a genius to deduct your… poor living situation.

The long sleeves, the turtle necks, the gloves. Jeans in summer. Never a parent to attention parent-teacher conferences.

He’s about to turn and leave, when there’s a slight commotion at the front of the room.

One of the younger students, Jasmin, is talking to Mrs. Hogarty in a hushed voice. Goody-two-shoes.

When she gets no response, the student only continues talking, trying to elicit a reaction from the teacher that has otherwise remained silent. In an irreversible mistake, Jasmin reaches out, gently waving her tanned hand in front of glazed over eyes.

Mrs. Hogarty lunges at her, finally in motion, chubby hands gripping at the forearm of the girl and taking a bite from plush skin. Blood spurts from the wound, Jasmin screams in horror, alike to the rest of the few misdemeanours in the room.

Everyone is in motion. Some try to help Jasmin, others flee. You’re stuck. Truth is, though you boast agility, you’ve never been in a situation like this. Your mouth gapes like a fish, open, closed, searching for something to say, to do. A reaction befitting of this complete, disgusting travesty.

“C’mon, up. Let’s go.” Negan is talking to you, you realise. It’s like everything finally clicks back into motion, the water no longer clogging your ears, making everything muffled and distant. This is reality.

You scramble from the chair, grabbing books, pencils, hastily shoving them into your little brown bag.

But there’s a hand on your shoulder, urging you forward, towards the exit sitting towards the back of the classroom. “Leave it, no time.” Negan is telling you, helping you off the floor. Before the two of you can make a break for it, your hands clasp around the metal baseball bat.

It swings at your side as you leave the building, feet padding against the concrete of the pavement. It’s strangely… desolate. There is no increasing urgency, nobody around. It almost makes you question whether what happened was real. But you’re still walking, forward, away.

“Shouldn’t we help her?” You ask, to which Negan finally stops to look back at you. His brows furrow, confused, so you clarify. “Jasmin.”

“No, no, there isn’t any helping her,” He clarifies, talking slowly to try and get the idea in your head. “I read about this shit online, it’s in other countries. Europe. They aren’t people anymore.”

You don’t quite catch on, understand the severity of his words. But it makes sense. No person would act like that. Your feet begin to move again, travelling the familiar path.

“Hey, where are you going?” Negan calls out, and it’s only now that you become aware of the distance between you. Your head snaps into the direction of the bus stop, a silent answer, and Negan seems to deduct your intentions. He nods in the opposite direction. “C’mon.”

You obey, needing to skip in order to catch up with his longer strides. The bat is still clenched in your dominant hand, cold metal occasionally making contact with the side of your leg. It’s heavy, but you’re getting used to it.

As you approach the car park, the sun beats down, warming the asphalt. A few paces away is Negan’s truck, but before that, another person you quickly identify as an older student.

Stringy hair, grey skin, dull eyes. Arms reaching out, wandering aimlessly. The animated corpse seems to have some semblance of consciousness, as it spots you, limping over.

Preemptively, you take a step back, that familiar feeling of panic flooding your system at an unavoidable danger. Luckily, Negan appears to be significantly more composed than you are, as he’s reaching back for something. Extending a hand to you.

When you don’t react, he whistles, a high-pitched noise that instantly gets your attention. You did not know it yet, but this would become a familiar constant in your life. Nonetheless, you catch onto what he meant, letting the metal bat fall into his extended hand.

“Are you gonna…?” You don’t finish your question, as you’re unsure what exactly you think may happen. There’s a small part of you that doesn’t want to know.

Luckily, Negan provided little answers. “Go around and get in the truck.” He tells you, instructs you, and you listen simply because you trust him. Which, in this day and age, is dangerous.

You busy yourself with the seatbelt in order not to watch, able to mentally fill in the blanks as to the measure that Negan was taking. It made sense, you supposed. They weren’t alive anymore, couldn’t feel. Only wanted to hurt other people. Therefore, they needed to be put down.

There’s a clang as he places the baseball bat in the back of the truck, getting into the drivers seat and starting the engine. You watch this interest, unable to remember the last time somebody drove you anywhere. Never, if you recall correctly.

Thankful, Negan opts to ignore the way you inspect his every movement, like a little bird. Or a startled cat.

“Your address?” He requests, already making a start down the street that he would presume lead towards your house. It snaps you out of the little daze, face scrunching up.

“No, gross. I can’t give you my address,” You say in a matter-of-fact tone, as if the idea of completely insane. “You could be a predator, for all I know. That’s private information.”

Negan gives you that look again, the same one when you’d forged the signature. He can’t quite understand you. “Why would I work in a school if I was a predator? Tell me, how would I get that job.”

You shrug, “Maybe because that’s exactly what you want.”

He becomes fed up with your inane accusation, rolling his eyes. Yet, despite the attitude you’ve adopted, he does not get frustrated with you. “Address, now. I’m takin’ you home.”

There’s a large part of you that doesn’t even want to go home, yet you obey, providing Negan with your address to which he turns down the proper street. Luckily, you don’t live too far from school… or, unlucky, you suppose. For it isn’t long until you’re pulling into your driveway.

You get out, footsteps cautious against the pavement. A few meters away is an older lady, half alive, clinging to the path with desperate hands despite the concave appearance of her head. Your neighbour. She groans upon noticing you, but her legs are broken, and cannot move forward.

Remembering earlier, you move backwards towards the truck, fishing out the metal bat. It’s shiny metallic end is caked with reddish blood, stringing bits of decomposing guts hanging from it.

You can only make it a step forward until Negan is holding your shoulder again, pushing you in the opposite direction, towards the house. “Nope. Just leave her, she ain’t hurting anyone.”

Usually, you would detest being controlled. Told what to do. The shadow of an adult so close behind you, watching, letting their hands intrude on your space. But you didn’t feel threatened by Negan, which was odd. You weren’t going to complain about it, that’s for sure.

You ascend up the shallow stairs, coming to a stop in front of the door. When you reach out, pressing on the doorhandle, you’re shocked to find that it simply swings open, already sitting ajar. Dread fills your body.

It’s not that fearful, sickly dread that you get when you know you’ve done something wrong, and are awaiting the inevitable consequences. No, its.. different. You’ve felt it very few times before. Concern, worry. Knowing that something is wrong, and you cannot stop it.

Nonetheless, you enter the house. It’s in its familiar state, which provides a slight comfort to you, but Negan finds himself taken aback. It’s practically a mess. Every surface has something on it, whether it be pointless junk, or the garbage of bottles and cans. A few areas remain spotless, like the kitchen counter, and the bin remains empty and carefully tucked away.

It’s clear that you upkeep the small areas which you require for your autonomy. The rest of the place? Not your problem. It’s no wonder you don’t like being there.

As you pat further down the hallway, Negan draws his attention to the entrance. There’s a large bookshelf, though the books are dusty, likely long since actually used. A few slots are unusually empty, indicating that you’ve taken some to keep elsewhere.

But it’s the top shelf that draws his attention. Two photographs, positioned around thirty centimetres apart, with two respective urns behind them. One significantly smaller. Mother and daughter, he recognises. Mother and baby, actually.

It’s apparent that this is the home of a family that’s lost half of its inhabitance. He can’t help but wonder, is this the fate that will befall him, come Lucille’s death? Hopefully not. Nothing like this.

“Dad?”

Negan regains his sense of reality, curiosity piked as you’re speaking down the hall. He moves further into the space, standing in the kitchen as he observes you, there on the porch.

You stand near the doorway, that bat still hanging from one hand. In front of you, a figure, sitting down. Next to him, a half-empty case of beers. Part of Negan becomes increasingly alert, aware, prepared to avoid letting any harm befall you. A harm that you’re likely accustomed to.

There’s no response.

“C’mon. Just say something.” You urge, sounding utterly defeated. And yet, your father gives no response, despite the impending doom blanketing the situation.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand. The vicious, red welt on your fathers neck gives it away, jagged and seeping blood that stains his already unkept shirt. It’s a matter of time, at this point. You’d like to extract at least one, genuine conversation. Absolutely anything before he disappears forever.

That isn’t seeming very likely.

Your eyes drift around the yard, welling with tears not of sadness, but frustration. This is it? You are to become an orphan, the world is ending, and your piece-of-shit father won’t even look at you? In this moment, you wished he was angry.

You wished he would yell at you.

Pin you against the wall by your neck.

Bruise you. Beat you.

Anything other than this.

“I made the baseball team.” You tell him, another futile attempt to elicit any sort of reaction. Pride, maybe. Congratulate his young daughter for her achievement. Even the smallest hint of recognition would go a long way, pull you from this spiral you’ve begun to succumb to.

And what does he do?

He scoffs.

His arm lifts, taking another swig of the near empty bottle.

Finally, you’ve gotten your sign. A signal, a hint. The divine intervention that sets everything straight, reminds you of your place in this world. Just enough attention to keep you subdued, but satisfied. Complacent.

Anger overtakes you before you’re even aware of these emotions, wielding a surprising amount of strength for a pre-pubescent girl. You want to scream and shout and hurt him.

So you do.

It’s a knee-jerk reaction, really. Unplanned, messily executed. But would you have done it again? Certainly.

You cannot feel remorse for causing pain to a man who’s soul died long ago. Died with your mother, died with your infant sister. Tried to kill yours along with it all.

It’s already happened before you can understand.

There’s a distinct soreness in your shoulder, strained from swinging the metal baseball bat with such force. There are little blisters forming on your palms from how tight you’re gripping, clawing, clenching around the handle. The movement has shifted your whole body, but you don’t look down.

You don’t acknowledge the mess you’ve made.

Blood splattered across the wooden porch, some even hitting the adjacent fence. Skull broken, concave. Oozing sticky red.

The glass bottle rolls down the steps. Clink, clink, clink. It hits the plush grass, silenced.

It was inevitable, anyway. Whether to the virus, or your own hands, your father was going to die.

It was a mercy-kill, at best.

Vengeance at worst.

But that didn’t matter anymore, because when you turned around, he was there.

Negan.

Standing in the kitchen, watching you through the open door. He didn’t appear horrified, or disgusted. Maybe unsettled, sure. There was a darkness within you that he recognised, understood. Sure, he didn’t put it there, but over the years he would cultivate it, guide you. Raise you as somebody who would never be taken advantage of again.

Untouchable.

[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (PartXXXIII)

XXXIII. We are on easy street

MASTERLIST

Summary: And it feels so sweet…

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, cursing, death of a secondary character, description of torture and beatings, doogfood sandwiches are a treat, might miss some important warnings, but you know what this is about

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Another song as a title, anways, in this chapter, what happened to Daryl in the series happens here, so... brace yourselves. this hcapter has a whole dialogue pulled fromt he script of the chapter, but edited slightly for our convenience

You were shaking, seating in the porsche of Deanna’s house, rubbing your temples, your elbows on your knees

You heard a door behind you and Rick and Michone came out, just a look and you knew what happened

“She’s gone”, he said gently.

Heart attack

After she witnessed her son being brutally murdered Deanna started clutching her chest, it turns out it wasn’t just grief and shock

Many Alexandrians were there, wide eyed and pointing, you saw many tears, she had fought through the night, but you were in the middle of a goddamn apocalypse, you didn’t have much means to reanimate her, despite Denise almost breaking her arms trying to do reanimation for most of the morning

“Meeting in the church in ten minutes”, he dictated 

“Rick!?”, you called, he immediately turned around and turned to you, “where’s everyone?”, you asked him

“Maggie, Glenn and Beth stayed at the Hilltop, in hopes of convincing Gregory to fight with us”, he said softly, “Carol and Morgan stayed at this placed called the Kingdom”, he muttered, “We fought some people on the way there, Carol was injured and she stayed there, for safety”, you barely nodded

“So everyone’s ok?”, you asked him

“They are” , he assured you, he kept looking down at you, “We are going to get him back”, he assured you

“How?”, you asked him, “you know what they did to me, imagine what they are going to do to him… a man… and a wild one at that”, you said. He nodded, and walked away from you without an answer

Daryl

They took him from you and you couldn’t do anything about it

Alexander was MIA

There was no way you could take them

You were screwed

So you dragged your feet all the way to the church, you were… tired, defeated, scared, sad… frightened more than anything and just plain fucked

Daryl…

You needed to go to him, find him, beg Negan or whatever, take him back, but as you were now, you couldn’t even open the gates to let yourself in, you really were just plain tired… destroyed more likely. 

But Daryl

Being at the church, or at Alexandria at all without the archer felt so foreign to you right now, and you couldn’t help but torment yourself with the memories of the last time you saw him, pre-conquering of Alexandria, that he wanted to give you something, that he was going to come back to you.

What could you have possibly done to prevent this? could you have stopped it?

Did fight hard enough for him?

You sat on the first bench, on the same side as always, as you waited for everyone to enter the church. They all looked like they just had been told Santa didn’t exist anymore, that their idyllic lifestyle had been a gift, and that gift just expired

Once you were all inside the church, Rick started

“Deanna is gone, heartattack”, he started strong right off. He waited for the murmurs and gaps to dissipate before he continued, “Now, most of you were out there last night, we need to discuss how to proceed… how things are gonna go from now on”

“What do you mean?”, asked someone

“We work for Negan now”, he said, “he wants half of everything we have, and once a month, he will want a tribute”

“What kind of tribute?”, asked another

“Whatever we can get, and he doesn’t’ like it… he will kill one of our people”, he said

“We can’t live like that!”

“We have to”, he said, “we got off easy, you saw what happened last night! how easily he just went in, how many there are!”, he said, “and they have our people! they have Daryl… he took Rosita and Sasha”

Since the Green/Rhee weren’t here, Negan took exactly the exact people to literally grab you by the metaphorical balls. With Daryl in his power he knew you and Carol were tied, with Rosita, he held Alexander (as new as it was), and Eugene and Abraham, and with Sasha he double tied the third most dangerous person here. And with all three he had Rick and Michonne.

He took a lot of firepower, some of the strongest members of your group.

He took your Daryl. 

“I will find Alexander”, you said out loud, “with him, we can plan something, I know the Sanctuary, we can get them back…”

“You can’t go in wild goose chase”, said Rick

“What? a wild goose chase?”, you asked him, enraged

“We need you here, to join the scavenging team, what you did in DC, we need you to do that again”, he said, “they’ll come back soon, if we have a good tribute to them, something better than we have, they’ll go easy on us…”

“Yeah, Daryl is gone!”, you said, “so is Alexander, AND ROSITA, three important members of my team”, you said then. “And going to get Daryl is not a wild goose chase!”, you said angrily, he sighed loudly

“I know, i didn’t mean it like that”, he said softly, “what I meant is that if we play by Negan’s rules, we might be able to get him back more easily, than if we don’t”, he said, and you nodded, it made sense.

You had talked to him, Negan, he knew, because of what you talked about that night, he believed to treat you more fairly, so you won’t rebel against him, maybe Rick was right, maybe if you find something really good for them, maybe he’ll let Daryl come back to you.

“I’ll go with you”, assured Tara, who, to this moment, you had barely registered, she had been here last night, with Denise. She had been so dedicated to her blooming relationship with her that you had barely seen her these last days. 

“Mee too”, said Abraham

“What about the walkers in the quarry?”, asked another

Good fucking point

Rick sighed again

“We need to find Alexander”, he admitted, defeated. 

You needed coercion to finally get some hours of sleep, and food, and then you were finally allowed to leave Alexandria in the search of Alexander

He had left on foot

You found him on the third day, in the barn where he had left the HUMVEE, you didn’t think of checking that place first, a couple of miles out of Alexandria on a farm. He pulled a gun on you, but that wasn’t surprising. He stopped it as soon as he recognized you

“Are you alright?”, he was a military man, he had been in Afghanistan, he had always got a escape plan, and he had saves supplies and canned goods there, in that barn

“Yeah”

“Negan wants to kill you”, you said

“I’d gather”

“You did well on running, but now, Spencer is dead, Deanna too, heart attack, and we are fucked”, you said, “they took Daryl, and Rosita and Sasha, its a matter of time before they take or kill someone else”, you said confidently, “they want half of everything we manage to make, steal or scavenge”

“What does Rick want to do?”, He asked

“We have to take care of the walkers on the pit”, you said quickly, “it’s just a matter of time before that truck slips and they get free, and the saviors will come back to Alexandria any day now”

Without Rosita and without Alex being safe in Alexandria, you were completely screwed if you wanted to handle the explosions you found. 

You took an Alexandria car back to town with the explosives inside, Alex had given you an instruction to handle them, you were going to blow everyone up, without Rosita. 

You got back to Alexandria at noon, alone, armed to the teeth, but as you signaled the men inside to open the gate, your mouth opened wide when you saw Gary at the gates, opening it for you

Once he did he revealed the trucks inside, you only could fully grasp it, they were here

The saviors were here. 

You barely got inside with car and all when Gary opened the door of the car for you, as two other saviors started registering the car

“Hey little lady”, he greeted

“Traitor”, you greeted back, he only laughed

“Come on, don’t be so hard on me”, he said lightly, his demeanor told you he was no good intentions towards you

“The trunk is filled with explosives”, said one, alarmed, you weren’t even fazed

“And why’s that?”, he asked you, he took a step forwards, eliminating the space between you, making you take a step back and hit the side of the car

“You know we have a quarry full of walkers a couple of miles west”, you told him, “we need to take care of that”, you said severely

“Where’s Alexander?”, he asked then

“I have been looking for him for three days, couldn’t find him” you said, bored 

“Uh but you found explosives?”, he asked then

“We were keeping the out of the walls, for safety”, you explained quickly

“And what were you gonna do with all this dynamite? uh little lady?”, asked a guy that had an unfortunate looking face, he hadn't heard the conversation between you and Gary

“Shove it up your ass”, you answered bluntly with a cynical smile, “to see if your insides are as thick as your head”, his own wiping off of his face. You had no time nor patience for these clowns. You heard the other saviors laugh 

“What?”, oh he was gonna punch you, but Gary stopped him

“Davey, leave her alone”, he warned, “our boss had been waiting for this one”, he said, Gary singaled you to walk in front of him, as the other saviors took the crates of dynamite

He led you back to the armory, where Rick was looking dreadful as Negan was loading all our guns into a truck

“She’s here”, Gary announced as Negan finally turned to you.

“Hey! you joined the party! find anything…? HOLY SHIT!”, he laughed when he saw all the crates of dynamite, “darling you are a bomb! or a sex bomb?”, he rambled 

“You are killing us if you take our guns”, you told him, “we need to deal with the walkers on the pit”, you said, Rick looked at you with red eyes, like he was afraid or something

“I know darling, and you don’t have to worry about a thing!”, he said loudly.

You looked at the person that was coming out of the armory, and your breath got caught in your throat when you saw Daryl, dressed in a two piece dirty suit, barefoot, sweaty and beaten up

“DARYL!”, you said loudly, ready to go to him, but Negan stepped forwards, making you bump into him, preventing you from doing it

“Nope!”, he said quickly, “he is here as the help, you don’t talk to him, you don’t touch him darling”, you looked at Daryl over his shoulder, he looked back at you with teary eyes for merely seconds to then kept doing what he was doing

“What are you doing to him?”, you asked him, “leave him alone!”, you demanded, looking back at Negan angrily

“Oh darling, Daryl here is just refusing to come to the reality that he cannot get away from me, and neither can you”, he said, “he will soon though, if he knows what’s good for him, so if you want to keep him whole, you won’t talk to him, you won’t touch him, you won’t even talk to him, am I clear?”, you stopped looking at Daryl to look back at Negan, he was smiling at you

You didn’t answer as you searched for the eyes of Rick, who looked like he was embarrassed

“Rick…”, you called

“Please”, your leader begged you back

“DO SOMETHING!”, you screamed, he only shook his head

“Oh darling, see, that’s why I took Daryl and not him, Rick is a little bitch”, said Negan, you looked back at him, “my little bitch”, he said then, “but Daryl there, can be my top dog”, you released a long breath you didn’t know you were holding

“If you kill him…”, you warned

“I’d think very carefully of what your next words are going to be if I were you”, he said severely, not any trace of playfulness out of his face, “I don’t do threats darling”, he said, “you are already getting a nice treatment, me… not killing many of you, taking hostages instead… it's nice treatment, something new I’m trying here, help me prove this method it's going to work”, he ‘invited’, you looked back at Daryl and he was looking back at you with a plead in his eyes

“Fine, Negan”, you said, looking back at him, making him smile again, “I’m sorry, you had make yourself perfectly clear”, he chuckled

“That’s perfect darling, exactly what I like”, he said, “I’m pleased, so pleased, I’m going to take care of the little problem you guys have”, he said simply

“He will let us keep one gun for each person”, said Rick like it was the deal of the century. You smiled at Negan

“Thank you for your kindness”, you said and he laughed

“That’s a good girl”, he said. “now pick yours”, he said

“The RPG”, you said simply, he chuckled

“The mere thought of you holding that thing makes me tingle”, he whispered, leaning into you again, “a hot woman with a powerful weapon”, he said raising his eyebrows teasingly, “but alas, I advise you against it”, you grabbed your gun from your belt, the one you had retrieved from the ground that fatidic night and showed it to him, “fun”, he said only, nodding 

Maybe you should have picked one of the assault rifles with a scope and silencer, but you decided against it, the gun was more malleable, hideable, besides, you had a couple of assault rifles outside of the gates. 

You were made, -as was Rick-, to stand there and watch how they the guns and some supplies from you, but he didn’t got into the houses as he threatened to do

He sent a whole group of saviors to the quarry, to do a full report. 

You appreciated the fact that he commanded Arat to be out of your sight, as he knew you clearly hated her guts and almost chopped her head off with your ax in front of everyone. You tried to be on your best behavior, as they took meds, your guns, leaving your personal effects intact.

And finally, after tortuous hours later, he guided you to the gates, Rick and you following him like two dogs. Daryl following closely behind you, being led by Dwight 

“Now that you know we can… be complaint”, said Rick, looking up at Negan, and then at you

“Yes…?”, he asked

“I wanted to ask you, if we could see Sasha and Rosita”, he said slowly

“That’s not gonna happen today”, he said simply

“What about Daryl? could he stay?”, he asked then

“NOPE!”, he said quickly, “not gonna happen”, Negan then turned to you

“Can I at least talk to him?”, you asked him, he seemed to think about it

“I’ll make you a deal”, he said finally, “everything you want to say and do to Daryl, you have to say it and do it to me first”, he said with a shit eating grin, you looked back at him with a frown

“What?”, you asked him, confused

“Yeah, for example, if you want some… you know… a conjugal visit, you can, well, take me for a spin first”, he winked at you, “they all can wait”, you slapped him, you didn’t even think about it, but it wasn’t a hard slap, more like, a bitch slap

This could cost you and you reacted accordingly, grabbing your own guilty hand, in mere seconds, scared of how he was going to react, but as he turned back his face, he was smiling, deadass smiling with a big grin.

“Oh darling”, he teased, “I’m even more attracted to you right now, if that’s even possible”, you just rolled your eyes. But as your eyes turned to Daryl right behind Negan being grabbed tightly by Dwight, you thought twice about it

You wanted to comfort him. 

Minutes lingered in which Negan kept his eyes and mocking grin towards you, you then took a long sigh and turned to him again

“Does the deal still stand?”, you asked, and then he deadass smiled

“Whatever you want to do to Daryl, you have to do it to me too first”, he said, “that included talking darling”

You were not gonna fuck him, but… you still wanted to comfort Daryl, he needed it, you needed it. You took a big sigh and shook your hands, that were shaking.

Everyone was looking at you, all of them, the saviors were staring with mocking grins on their faces, but you did it anyway. 

He let you wrap your hands around his shoulders, even though he was taller than you. You kissed his cheek quickly

“Anything you wanna say darling?”, he teased loudly

“I love you, and remember we are here waiting for you”, you said bluntly and quickly, whispering in his ear. You released him as he burned you

“SO SWEET!”, he said out loud. He looked back at you and nodded, then looked at Daryl. You turned and run to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly, you kissed his face longingly, he hugged you back tightly

“I love you”, you said

“I love ya too”, he said with a choked voice

“Remember we are here, waiting for you”, you said, he nodded, hiding his face on your neck, you felt him take a deep breath, breathing you in. 

“That’s enough!”, said Negan, Dwight pulled him by the handle his suit had, and Negan grabbed your shoulder and pulled you backwards. “Well, Rick, let’s get our business done, shall we? just you”, he said, “the rest of Alexandria will stay here until your return, we will take care of your walkers, or any walkers to come, and you will work for me”, he said loudly, for everybody to hear

Rick only nodded, and got into a truck behind Negan.

Dwight pushed Daryl until he got him inside a truck, you shared last looks, and they left, again, taking your heart with them. 

The majority of the saviors left

And you felt left out, you wanted to see how they got rid of them, with explosions and guns, but a couple of saviors stayed, guarding the gates.

That guy that was called Davey or whatever kept looking at you, making your skin crawl.

Tara came to you at the gates

“Everything alright?”, you asked her

“They took a lot of meds”, she said sadly, “but at least nobody else died, right?

“Yeah, you could say that”, you muttered sadly, you walked back with her to the house. Your mind racing

When are you going to see Daryl again? What could you possibly do to get him back? this ‘agreement’ didn’t look like it had an end date, a way to negotiate, what could you give to Negan for the release of Daryl? What could you do to get Rosita and Sasha back?

“They beat up Abraham pretty bad”, she told you, “before you came back”

“Is he alright?”, you asked her

“He will be”, she said firmly, so you went with her to visit him.

You spend the afternoon putting order in Alexandria, frequently listening to explosions happening a few miles back, at the pit

At the end of the day, they brought Rick back, with a scared look on his face, and the announcement that the walkers… were all gone, every single one of them.

You didn’t know what to feel.

Although you could say… you felt pretty powerless 

He returned from Alexandria with a knot on his throat, as Dwight pushed him back into his cell, the only thing he could see in the darkness was you, pressed against Negan as you kissed him on the cheek.

The very thought made him shiver. 

With nightmares clouding his mind, he tried to sleep.

He whimpered when he heard that damn song, again, not letting him bat an eye, not get a minute of peace

We are on easy street

And it feels so sweet

The song ended and the door opened, like clockwork, Dwight entered with his dogfood sandwich

“Had you thought about my proposal?”, he asked

“I ain't ‘ever gonna kneel”, he said quickly

“You sure?”, he asked, with a mocking grin on his face, “I found something in your jacket that says otherwise”, Daryl just looked at him, and almost jumped to attack him with Dwight showed him the little box he knew all too well 

“Screw ya”, he mumbled, “don’ touch tha”

“I would say it if I were you”, he said, placing the box back inside his jacket, “you know I did, and you… have so much to lose than I did, you have your girl, and you also have a family, make it easy on yourself, on them…”, Daryl just looked up at him, “you know what he can do to them”, then the blonde let him out and lead him through the hallways

Have you stayed in one of those cells? Have you walked this walk? barefoot like he was now?

You had, he knew you did

How did you manage to stay whole?

He admired you now more than he ever did

This was his third day here, he had been checked by a doctor, he had seen what Sherry was now, and he had been tortured, sleep deprived and fed with dog-food sandwiches. They took him to Alexandria, to further his torment, he hadn't seen Sasha or Rosita, but he guessed they weren’t better off, and he had been there when Abraham demanded to see them, and they beat him up at the very gates. 

“Step in”, Dwight pushed him into a room, a comfortable looking room, where Negan was, waiting for him sitting on a leather couch

“Ahh Jesus, you look awful!”, Negan mocked, “you thirsty?”, Daryl barely nodded, at the prospect of being mocked and not given any, but Negan stood up and offered him a glass of water. But he had trouble drinking it, “Uh I forgot, you got your mouth all fucked up like a babboon’s ass, D get him a straw, what’s wrong with you?”, he asked him.

Dwight ran to fulfill his order, looking for a straw in the made kitchen there until he found one, and gave it to Daryl, who sipped on the water quickly, he was thirsty, very much so 

“See that guy? He hustles. I like hustle”, admired Negan, looking at Dwight come and go, “but believe it or not, things weren't always cool between us. See, D here… he worked for points, him and his super hot wife and her super hot sister. But, see, sis… she needed meds. And that shit is hard to scavenge, so it costs more…”, he started telling the tale, Daryl just stood there, watching him  silently, “...Sis fell behind on points, so I asked her to marry me. Told her I would take care of her in sickness and in health, blah blah blah, because I am a stand-up guy”, his eyes never strayed from Daryl, not even for a second

“She tells me that she's gonna think about it… Next thing you know, I'm dealing with an orange situation. Dwighty-boy here stole all the medication and took off with his super hot wife and my super hot maybe soon-to-be fiancée!”, he makes Lucille tap on the floor, making both men jump a bit,  “So I had to send my guys after him, because I can't let something like that stand. There...are...rules”, he said emphatically, “cost me an arm and a leg going after him… and you know what… Dwighty boy?”, he smiled even more, chuckling “He still got away…”

Daryl knows that part, he was the one that helped him escape 

“But here's the thing. D.. he saw the light. He manned up. He came back. He asked for my forgiveness. I like that. Made me... take notice. But Lucille... Well...you know how she is. She is a stickler for the rules. So, Dwight... he begged me not to kill Sherry, which I thought was kind of cute, so I was just gonna kill him. But then Sherry says that she will marry me if I let Dwight live, which, if you think about it, that's a pretty screwed-up deal, 'cause I was gonna marry her sister until she wound up dead, but... Sherry is super hot”.

Daryl then looked at Dwight, that looked like he was about to start crying any second now

“Anyways, it was a start, but it wasn't enough, so Dwight... he got the iron. And then I married his super hot wife… Ex-wife. And then after all that, he still got on board! And now look at him. Pow! One of my top guys. And we are totally cool”, they were not cool, Daryl thought, Dwight was miserable. “The point being, I think you can be that guy”, he said, placing a hand on his chest, “I think you are ready to be that guy….”, he then turned to the room around. “I believe you can be one of my top guys… and my top guys? well… they live like Kings!”, he said quickly… “you saw, our toys, our women… When you work for me, any of those fine ladies could be yours, of course, as long as they say yes”, he said

“Not interested”, he said grumpily, looking at the floor in front of him. Of course, Negan knew why, but he still wanted to trial him. 

“Oh right”, muttered Negan, “you already got a lady”, he teased, “you might be an asshole, Daryl, but you’ve got a fine taste in women”, he said, “damn that girl is a minx, did you know that when she was here, she beat up several of my men? including Simon, they say she made his head ring like a freaking bong! and Fat Joey there was wearing a footprint on his fat face for like a week!”, he was pleased now, he looked around the room and spread his arms, “you know Daryl? all of this could be yours, you could actually bring in that pretty little number of yours, have her here… did you ask her to be your wife yet?”, Dwight then reached into the pocket of Daryl vest he was wearing

“Hey… don’t!”, Daryl protested, but he gave it to Negan

Dwight grabbed onto Daryl’s vest, Letting Negan take a couple of steps back to see the insides of the box

“Oh… no… this is for her?”, he asked, “so you haven’t asked her yet… she still isn’t your wife”, he said with a wide smile. He then looked at Daryl, with a look that was borderline sadistic, “maybe I will ask her… yeah, that would be fun, having her here…”

“No”, he said quickly

“She will come here”, he promised, “hell, I will go and get her myself right now, the question is… will she come here to keep your bed warm and your cock wet… or my bed warm and my big fat cock wet?”

“Leave ‘er out of this”, he said, his voice was rough, but Negan was thrilled on the begging he saw on his sharp little eyes. 

“She will do it, you know she will”, he whispered in his ear, “I’ll go to Alexandria and I will tell her… that I will chop up pieces of you if she doesn’t agree to marry me, you know she will say yes… she is nice like that”, he muttered

“Don’t”, Negan chuckled when he heard a bit of begging in his voice

“Very easy then, say it… and she will come here as your wife”

Daryl looked at him, with horror in his eyes, he remembered what he saw, with Sherry, a couple of days back, clear as day, that pregnancy test on that medical table. Negan was going to do to the both of you the same he had done with Dwight and Sherry. He was going to make you his wife, and after that he was going to make you have sex with him, he could just easily get you pregnant, he could knock you up on a whim, just to get back at him.

The very thought repulsed him. The thought of you with someone else's child in your belly, you being coerced into having sex with someone you didn’t want to, just to protect him.  

But that’s not all Negan could do to you, he could humiliate you in front of all the saviors, just to prove a point, he could burn you again, torture you like he did him, and you too, make you work for him for points, and you were not gonna bend, not for long, he could end up killing you, and make him watch your walker self strapped to the fence. 

He couldn't bear it, the mere thought made him tremble 

He had to do it, for you, because of you. At the end of the day, he understood Dwight, he did, he had Sherry, and Daryl had you… so he swallowed his own words, he cleared his throat, and he raised his eyes to look Negan on the face.

“I’m Negan”, he muttered. 

PCN: I feel guilty because of how much I enjoyed writting this chapter!

taglsit! @crazyunsexycool @capricxnt

[starrydixon]

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*Requested from this ask* :)

Era: Alexandria (Pre-Negan) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: mention of childhood trauma (if you squint), insecurity, illusions to nakedness, fluff!!!

Summary: When Daryl finally comes home after a week long supply run, you cant help yourself from doting on him...and Daryl doesn’t stop you. 

Along with a few other residents of Alexandria, Daryl had been on a supply run a few towns over for the past week. Due to the duties you had to attend to in the community, you couldn’t join the expedition. Since he’s been gone, you’ve missed him terribly. It was rare that you and Daryl were ever apart for more than a day or two, so the added days without him felt more like weeks. 

You hated being away from Daryl, especially when he was out on a run. Living in an apocalypse that caused walking corpses with a hunger for living flesh to take over the population was a threat all on its own; even the protection of Alexandra’s strong gates couldn’t completely stop it. However, they did help subdue the threat tremendously. Whenever Daryl was outside of those precious gates, and you weren’t there beside him, the anxiety of not knowing if he’d ever come back alive, or if he’d walk through those gates severely injured, felt like torture. The anxiety was constant, whether it was looming over you like a shadow as you busied yourself with your duties during the day, or scaring you awake like a ghost as you tried to fall asleep at night.

The second you heard the familiar rumble of an engine coming from up the street, you were up on your feet in an instant and running out the front door of your home. Anticipation caused your heart rate to pick up as you stood outside on the front steps, impatiently bouncing on the balls of your feet as you waited to spot Daryl coming down the road.

The sky was colored in vibrant oranges and pinks, signaling that there was only a few hours of daylight left before the sun completely disappeared over the horizon and let nightfall take over. Even from your spot on the front porch, you could see the setting sun reflecting off Daryl’s skin, which was covered in layers of dirt, grime, blood, and everything in between.

When Daryl began to pull into the driveway, you were unable to contain yourself any longer and found yourself jumping over the front steps. Your sock covered feet thumped against the stone walkway that led to the front entrance of your home as you called out to Daryl, who was in the midst of dismounting from his bike. When his gaze shot towards you at the sound of your voice, a wave of physical relief washed over his facial features at just the mere sight of you. Like you, Daryl had been missing you, to the point where he thought he would go crazy if he stayed out there any longer. Just seeing your bright face getting closer to him was enough to erase the worn lines from off his face.

No words had to be said between you two as your arms instinctively snaked around his neck the second you were within reach. You felt your once tense and achy muscles relax when Daryl’s warm and strong arms wrapped around your frame, instantly bringing you the comfort you had been yearning for. As much as you wanted to smother every inch of his face with kisses, gush over how much you had missed him, and just overall bask in his embrace, Daryl’s well-being was your first priority. 

With your bodies still pressed against each other, you pulled away from Daryl just enough to clasp your hands over each of his cheeks. Your wide and worried eyes flitted over every square inch of his face, searching for any sign of injury. You weren’t sure if the dried blood staining the sparse scruff on his cheeks was his blood, or walkers, but it caused your momentarily repressed anxiety to flare up again.

“Are you hurt?” Your voice was gentle, and had a slight quiver in it as the pads of your thumbs caressed under his eyes and over his cheeks.  

Daryl found himself struck speechless as he kept his eyes on you, watching you worry over him. His calloused hands squeezed your hips ever so slightly as his head rested in your hands. He hated seeing you so worried, especially over him, but he couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

“‘M alright.” Daryl drawled once he was able to find his voice. His blue eyes watched your gaze shift to the stained skin of his exposed arms and chest, and felt your hands glide up and down his broad shoulders and chest in comforting rubs. If you were strong enough, Daryl would have allowed himself to slump over your body, practically melting from the waist down due to the familiar touch of your hands and warmth of your palms.

The small cuts and bruises that scattered across his skin worried you, but you supposed those were better to have than opposed to having a life-threatening injury. Your arms snaked around his neck again as you brought your gaze up towards his. The tips of your fingers played with the ends of his long and dark caramel colored hair as a smile graced your lips. “Hi.”

Daryl could feel his mouth morph into a lopsided smile at the sound of your softly spoken voice. Looking down at you with a dreamy look glazing over his eyes, Daryl brushed his knuckles up your spine until his open palm rested on the back of your neck. “Hey.”

Before you knew it, the few inches between you closed, and your lips were pressed against his. The first kiss was soft and sweet, reminding you of the first time Daryl had ever kissed you. The second one had you bringing your hands to cup each side of his face and your foot to raise from off the cold pavement as your lips melded with his in fervor. The arm Daryl had wrapped around your hips embraced you more tightly as his thumb caressed the base of your neck.

You would have gladly suffocated to death in order to keep kissing Daryl, but your lungs disagreed and forced you to pull away from him when the ache in your diaphragm became too painful to ignore. Breathlessly, you rested your forehead against Daryl’s and grinned at the ticklish tingles you got when the tip of his nose touched yours. Daryl would have stayed like that, with you in his arms and basking in the familiar feeling of home that you gave him for the rest of the night, but your shivering frame from the autumn breeze prevented that. 

“Should get ya inside ‘fore ya freeze to death.” Daryl hummed while tightening his arms around you in an attempt to shelter you from the cold.

“Yeah…and you need to freshen up. You’re filthy, Dar.” 

The archer scoffed at your comment, but let you lead him inside the house by the hand nonetheless. Daryl hated showers and baths; basically anything revolving having to clean himself. As a child, his negligent parents never enforced hygiene, so for a while he didn’t see the point. That was until a teacher from his elementary school called child services and had a social worker show up to his house one night. As Daryl got older, taking a shower meant being vulnerable; exposing his darkest traumas and deepest insecurities. Daryl hated that feeling, almost as much as he hated the walkers that infested the world. 

It took a while for Daryl to feel truly comfortable with you due to the decades worth of suppressed trauma, but when he did, he didn’t mind being vulnerable with you. Although his defiance towards showers was mostly just an act now to get a rise out of you, he truly didn’t mind bathing anymore; as long as you were joining him. It started out as a joke, an excuse to see you naked and have your body close to his, but Daryl found himself becoming dependent on your company and finding comfort in the way you doted on him. 

So, as Daryl followed behind you up the stairs, with your hand still enlaced with his, a warmth spread through the archers chest, anticipating the feeling of having your hands on his body that wordlessly told him how much you loved and cared for him with each gentle scrub through his hair and rub of his body.

As you turned the shower on and checked the water to make sure it was at a suitable temperature, Daryl had a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Not out of lust, but from the unquenched feeling of yearning he still had due to being away from you for so many days. With one bulging arm wrapping around your shoulders, Daryl’s other arm snaked around your waist as his face buried in the nape of your neck. The untrimmed whiskers from his beard tickled your skin as his lips pressed feather-like kisses to any available bit of skin he could reach. This caused bouts of joyous laughs to come out of your mouth and made your face heat up at the surge of love you felt coming from the archer. Your head fell back onto Daryl’s shoulder as you relished in the feeling. 

“Dar…” You trailed off with a laugh as you struggled to part from him. As much as you would have loved to stay snuggled to him, a steaming shower was starting to call for you both, and you were still completely clothed. “We can’t waste the warm water.”

After some more lighthearted defiance from Daryl, you were both under the warm stream of water that spouted from the shower head. You couldn’t stop a grin from forming on your face as you looked up to see Daryl’s wet strands of hair stick flat to his face. Despite the soothing feel of the warm water on his achy muscles, Daryl’s toned body stood rigged as he tried to adjust to the vulnerability of being so exposed.

Daryl’s body only began to relax when he felt your gentle fingers begin to massage his scalp as you lathered his greasy hair with an oversized amount of shampoo. The archer had to bow his head towards you and bend his knees a little so you didn’t have to strain to reach his head. You wouldn’t have minded having to stand on your tiptoes for a little while, but found his thoughtfulness endearing nonetheless. When almost all of his dark hair was hidden by the white suds of the lavender scented shampoo, you maneuvered Daryl’s head under the warm stream of water and covered his eyes with your hand. 

You knew you were doting on him a little too much, but you truly couldn’t help yourself. For years, Daryl has protected and taken care of you without asking for anything in return. It didn’t matter if you accidentally bumped your hip into the corner of the kitchen counter, or if you were just simply having a bad day; Daryl always tried his best to make you feel better. Most times, the archer didn’t allow you to return the favor; simply because he felt like he didn’t deserve it. However, after being away from you for so long, and after a grueling supply run, Daryl couldn’t resist the affection that you bestowed upon him and you weren’t going to waste the opportunity to give Daryl the love that he deserved. 

When all the foamy suds had washed out of his hair, you moved onto his body; washing away the layers of grime that stained his skin with a soapy washcloth. As you rubbed the soap into his toned muscles, you stayed mindful of the scrapes and bruises that were scattered across his body. You were so curious as to how he got them, and what had happened on the supply run, but a part of you selfishly wanted to stay ignorant for just a little while longer. You knew that you were going to end up worrying about him, regardless of how big or small of a problem Daryl may have faced when he was out there.

Daryl had found himself becoming speechless again as he stared down at you, watching the way you adorn his body with gentle and loving touches. He could barely feel the slight sting of soap agitating the nearly closed scrapes on his body, as he was enamored with the way you cared for him. Daryl’s chest swelled with warmth whenever he heard your soothing hums of a tune he didn’t recognize from over the sound of the rushing water. Instinctively, his hands would grip at your hips and caress circles over the wet skin on your back, as if he was trying to physically remind himself that you were really in front of him and not just a mirage. In times like these, Daryl was reminded just how much he had truly missed you. 

Occasionally, you would steal glances at the archer and could feel your face heat up each time your eyes met his intense gaze. It wasn’t an intimidating stare, like the one he often used to look at other people with. This one was different, softer; the stare that he only reserved for you. Daryl didn’t have to say it out loud for you to know what he was feeling; his blue-borderline gray-eyes spoke for him. He loved you. With every cell that made up his body. Each time you looked at him, you knew he was wordlessly professing his love to you. 

You stayed in the shower until the once warm water was beginning to run cold. Quickly, you ushered Daryl out of the shower stall and tossed one of the plush white towels to him so he could dry off. With one of the towels wrapped securely over your body, you stood between Daryl’s legs as he leaned back against the counter of the vanity.

Daryl’s hands found their way back home to your hips, holding onto you as you began to detangle his unruly strands of hair with your fingers. Your eyebrows were furrowed, casting a shadow over your eyes, as you tried not to tug too hard at his roots. Although you enjoyed the closeness you felt when showering with Daryl, your absolute favorite part was being able to brush and style his hair afterwards. You knew that tomorrow, Dary would wake up with soft and fluffy hair that was styled in the way that you deemed he looked the handsomest with. Plus, you had a habit of running your fingers through the archer’s hair, whether it was clean or dirty, at any chance you had, so you couldn’t help but be happy that you actually had an excuse to do so now. 

Daryl’s eyes were shut as he basked in the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp and running through his hair. He only opened them when he felt you begin to pull away from him. With a smile on your lips, you cupped each side of his face and placed a small kiss onto his. “All done.”

With a grin still stretching your face, you began to shuffle towards the bathroom door to enter your bedroom. You knew what to expect to see when you returned with some fresh clothes for Daryl to change into; it happened every time you finished brushing his hair. Whenever you turned your back to him, even if only for a second, Daryl would always take the opportunity to shake his freshly styled hair back into the unruly mess he started out with. You believed he did it as a way to get a rise out of you, but Daryl’s true intention came down to the fact that he couldn’t find it in him to verbalize how he didn’t want you to stop playing with his hair.

As expected, you returned to the bathroom to see those dark brown strands of wild hair hung over Daryl’s face, obscuring the view of his eyes. Shaking your head in faux agitation, you set the clothes down beside Daryl on the bathroom counter and returned to your place between his opened legs.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised.” You hummed as you got to work on taming his hair again. Daryl didn’t have to respond, the mischievous smirk on his face spoke volumes. 

With your index fingers, you pushed back the bangs that stuck to his face and hung over his eyes. The adoration you felt for Daryl seeped through your smile as you tucked the strands of hair behind his ears. Satisfied with your rework, you placed your hands on each side of his face and caressed your thumbs against his cheeks. 

“There you are.” You greeted softly, happy that you could see Daryl’s eyes again. 

At your admission, Daryl felt the tips of his ears and the expanse of his chest heating up. Unable to control himself, Daryl slumped over so his face was now buried in the nape of your neck, and his arms wrapped around your body in a tight embrace. You couldn’t help but laugh affectionately at Daryl’s sudden flustering. One of your hands held onto his shoulder for stability while the other held the back of his head, letting your fingers get lost in the caramel strands. 

“Aw, Dar. What’s going on?” You asked with a light laugh in your voice. Your hand stroked his hair in comforting strides as you felt the tip of Daryl’s nose nuzzle into your skin. 

Pulling away from him slightly, you held his head in your hands again. When Daryl’s abashed gaze met your’s, he could feel himself melting into your touch. “I just missed ya.”

You could feel your heart strings pull as your chest swelled in warmth at his confession. Overcome with emotion, all you could do was nod your head and embrace Daryl once again. With your head resting on his chest and your arms wrapped around his torso, Daryl let his chin rest on your head while one of his hands rested on the back of your neck and the other held your waist. For a few moments, you and Daryl stood in the steamed bathroom, soaking in the feeling of being in each other's arms again after being away from each other for so long.

At some point, your lips found Daryl’s again; melding together in a mix of need and pure love. Your hands had found their way back to his face, cupping his cheeks, while Daryl’s thumb caressed the base of your neck. A charming smile found its way onto your face again once you pulled away for some air. Your eyes flitted over Daryl’s eyes, unable to pull away from the magnetic gaze. 

“I’m glad you’re home.” Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke.

“Me too.”

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A/N: Thank you to the anon who requested this! I love writing these soft Daryl moments, because he truly deserves to be loved like this. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!!💗