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starrydixon · 1 year

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Happily Ever After

*Requested from this ask :)*

Era: Alexandria (Post-Negan) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: none! just pure fluff!!

Summary: Dedicating a day out behind the walls of Alexandria, Daryl takes you for a ride on his bike as he leads you towards a special place in the woods. There, he intends to ask you a very important question.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this; happy, giddy, and relaxed. You supposed it was during the time spent in the prison back in Georgia, but those feelings of content were fleeting due to the fear that the Governor could seek vengeance at any moment. Now, after months on the road, countless losses of people you saw as family, fighting in brutal wars, and not knowing if you’d make it to see another day, you finally felt peace.

Sure, you owed it to Alexandria’s protective walls and supportive community, but Daryl also had a huge contribution as well. The two of you have been dating for a little over a year now, but have known each other since the beginning of the apocalypse back at the Georgia quarry. Unknown to you, at the time, your romantic connection with the archer began to kindle during the weeks spent on the Greene’s family farm. After the farm fell and the harsh winter began, you then began to recognize that the feelings you felt for the archer exceeded past platonic. It was scary at first, having romantic feelings for someone as stoic and unreadable as Daryl, but you grew comfortable with your revelations the closer you two became. A week before the prison was found, you two had finally stopped dancing around those harboring feelings and kissed for the first time. Ever since then, you and Daryl have been in a loving relationship that you cherished so deeply.

Now, you were sat on the back of Daryl’s bike with your arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Wispy strands of baby hair blew around your face as gusts of winds whipped past you. With your chin resting on Daryl’s shoulder, the ends of Daryl’s hair occasionally got in your face, tickling your skin so much, you often found yourself you found yourself nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck in an effort to conceal the school-girl-like giggles from escaping past your lips.

You hadn’t been able to stop beaming since the moment Daryl informed you the previous night that he would be taking you outside of the walls for the day. It had been a while since you and Daryl went on an excursion together, since your individual duties around the growing community had been keeping you both busy. Just the idea of being able to spend some quality time with Daryl had sent you over the moon. The moment you awoke that morning, you’ve been bustling around your shared home; searching for supplies to pack for the journey and for the picnic that the two of you would enjoy later that day. Picnics were always a staple activity whenever you and Daryl went on a date. Although the archer never explicitly called the excursions you’d share together dates, you always got the unspoken message.

Unbeknownst to you, Daryl’s plans for today exceeded far beyond the typical date. If his courage didn’t defy him, he planned on finally giving you the diamond ring that has been burning a hole in the pocket of his vest for the past few months.

“Are we almost there yet!?” You shouted over the rumbling engine of the motorcycle while peering over Daryl’s shoulder in order to get a proper glimpse of his face. You had no idea where the archer was taking you, so the excitement coursing through your veins was making it hard to remain patient.

“Thought I told ya to quit askin’ every five minutes?” Daryl stated from over his shoulder. Although he tried to suppress it, you could see a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“I waited six minutes this time!” You grinned proudly as you tightened your arms around the archer’s frame. With a slight shake of his head, a lighthearted scoff escaped past his lips. Daryl had a hard time not finding your eagerness endearing.

Tightening his hands around the handlebars of the bike, Daryl picked up speed. An uncontrollable squeal fell from your lips as your body jolted forwards, colliding into Daryl’s strong back. Although your hearing was deafened due to the loud engine that powered the bike, you could feel Daryl’s back vibrate with goading laughter. The scenery around you became even more blurry and dizzying as you sped down the deserted road; you had to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid getting a headache. Instinctively, your hold around Daryl’s strong frame tightened.

Less than ten minutes later, Daryl had pulled up to a small opening that led into the forest. With your help, the two of you covered the bike with leaves and loose shrubbery in order to hide it from any potential onlookers. After a little bit of bickering, you allowed Daryl to take the wicker basket that was packed full of all the essential picnic necessities you would need in order to have a successful picnic. Lacing your fingers with Daryl’s you two began to follow along a dirt trail.

“Did you make this trail yourself?” You asked once you noticed how new the upturned dirt seemed. Daryl hummed in confirmation and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’s the clearest section of woods around…figured I’d put a trail here for huntin’ and stuff.” The archer shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

“Oh, so it’s not for taking your girlfriend on romantic strolls?” You teased lightheartedly as you wrapped your arm around Daryl so you were hugging his arm. Daryl just scoffed and gently shook you with the arm you were holding.

“Keep that up, and I’ll take ya to the swamps instead.”

Your face scrunched up at the thought of eating your sandwich with mosquitoes swarming around your face and biting into your skin every ten seconds. It wouldn’t be the first time the archer purposely led you to a swamp as a means of being mischievous with you during one of your outings. You supposed that was his unique way of being playful with you. Preferring to be safe than sorry, you didn’t tease the archer any further. You knew Daryl was extremely capable and willing to act out on his taunt.

With your head resting comfortably on the side of his shoulder, you and Daryl continued to follow the trail that led to whatever destination Daryl had in mind. As a child, you enjoyed exploring through the woods that sat in your backyard; pretending to be in mystical worlds or an explorer who was on the verge of finding her next discovery. Once you hit your teenage years, those days spent in the woods and finding solace in the natural beauty the forest provided was gone. Once you met Daryl and began accompanying him on his hunting trips, it reignited the love you once had with nature.

As you enjoyed listening and watching the way nature moved around you, vibrant colors caught the corner of your eye. Intrigued, you stopped in your tracks and turned to get a better look at what had grabbed your attention.

“Oh!” You couldn’t help but gasp in delight as you viewed a patch of assorted wildflowers that was diverted from the dirt path only a few feet away.

At first, Daryl thought you had spotted a walker, or maybe some people due to the unidentifiable surprise in your voice. Instinctively, he grabbed the strap of his crossbow, ready to protect you from the potential threat. With a deep sigh and a curse spouting from under his breath, the archer relaxed as he watched you practically leap towards the patch of flowers. Your clasped hands were held against your chest and your smile only seemed to widen as you observed the flowers. Carefully, you knelt down and picked a few different wildflowers from the patch. Satisfied with your small collection, you hid the bouquet behind your back and skipped back over to Daryl, who had his free hand resting on his hip as he waited for you.

“We’re burnin’ daylight y’know.”

With a smile so bright and charming that never failed to make Daryl’s knees go weak and heart skip a few beats, you removed your hands from behind your back and presented the flowers to him. One of the archer’s eyebrows quirked upwards towards his hairline as he stared down at the floral arrangement. Bringing his gaze back up towards you, his head tilted to the side slightly.

“Are these for…me?”

All you could do was nod your head excitedly while bouncing on the balls of your feet. You always enjoyed doing sweet and, as Daryl called it, rather corny romantic gestures for the archer. Daryl gave you happiness every single day; just being able to wake up beside him was enough to give you joy. Daryl deserved so much love and appreciation, and you thought he could never get enough of it. It was little things, like picking his favorite fruit from the garden, finding cheesy cards about love from souvenir shops whenever you went on runs, or setting up romantic dinner dates with candles and low music playing in the background. It always surprised him, without fail, whenever you did something sweet for him. This time was no different.

Dropping the picnic basket from his hand in shock, you watched as the tips of Daryl’s ears and the apples of his cheeks began to tint pink. In an attempt to conceal his flustering, Daryl covered his face with his hands. Your laugh was light and filled with joy as you reacted to Daryl’s heartwarming reaction that never got tiresome to witness.

“Ya didn’t…ya didn’t have to do this.” Daryl spoke bashfully as he removed his hands from his face and shook his head a little in disbelief, which caused his bangs to curtain over his eyes.

“I know, but I wanted to.”

Gently, Daryl took the flowers from your grasp and held them a bit awkwardly in his hands; unsure what to do with them now that they were in his possession. “Uh-I ain’t too sure what to do with ‘em…never been given flower ‘fore.”

You laughed again and shrugged your shoulders loosely. “You can do whatever you want. They’re yours now.”

For a moment, the archer couldn’t help but admire you. The placement of the sun caused an angelic glow to frame your figure, and your eyes were shining like stars. He always saw you as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but this moment just proved him right. Picking a pale pink flower from the bouquet that was gripped tightly in his hand, Daryl cleared his throat and shuffled closer to you before tentatively placing the flower behind your ear.

Heat rushed to your face, and it was your turn to become a flustering mess.

Wordlessly, you expressed your gratitude for the sweet gesture by placing a kiss on Daryl’s cheek. A boyish smile spread across his lips as you placed your arms around Daryl’s again. Content with the feeling of warmth spreading across your chest and up your neck to your face, you and Daryl continued down the dirt trail.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at your destination. Shooting a shy glance your way, Daryl nudged his chin towards the shrubbery that concealed whatever place Daryl wanted to show you. Although you trusted Daryl with your life, you were still a bit nervous about what was about to greet you on the other side. Tentatively, you pushed back the lush and overgrown foliage and stepped through the branches.

You felt like you had stepped into a fairytale, much like the ones you often imagined as a child whenever you played in the bleak woods of your backyard. The clearing you were met with seemed enchanted, like the specific spot had been put under a spell to preserve its natural beauty. Visible sun rays shone through the trees making the entire space radiate. Fallen tree trunks that looked strong and non-decomposed laid in the dense and rich greenery that covered the forest terrain. Birds could be heard singing and communicating with one another from the tops of the trees. Even the buzzing sounds of the insects that lived on the plants and flew in the air sounded hypnotizing. As you spun around to take in your surroundings, you even noticed a few mossy vines hanging off of a few tree branches.

“Daryl…” You trailed off in awe, unable to hide the gawk that took over your face. Daryl couldn’t decipher your reaction, so the growing unease began to make his palms sweaty and his blood pressure rise. If he misjudged his choice of scenery, then the rest of his plans for the day would be up in flames.

“Listen…if ya don’t like this spot, I can find another one. It-uh-ain’t a problem.”

Hearing the nerves and uncertainty in his voice made you instantly shake your head as you struggled to find the right words to express how truly awestruck you were. With the type of relationship and connection that you had with Daryl, there was never a sense of having to explicitly state how you felt about things. Most of the time, you could share a look or read between the lines in order to understand what the other was trying to convey. As words failed you, you decided to tell Daryl how much you enjoyed this spot by throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

The archer had nearly toppled over by the unexpected reaction. It was welcomed though, and he found himself snaking his arms around your waist and letting his chin rest on your shoulder. When you pulled away just enough to get a proper glimpse of his handsome face, tears had welled up in your eyes, and your nose was on the verge of dripping. Instinctively, Daryl cupped each side of your face and let both his thumbs rest on your cheeks. His eyes flitted between yours, searching for any sign of disdain. When all he found was genuinely lighting up your eyes, he allowed himself to relax.

Your eyes fluttered shut as Daryl placed a gentle, but meaningful kiss on your lips. For a moment, it brought you back to that spring morning when you and Daryl shared your first ever kiss. When your eyes opened again, they were met with the sight of Daryl’s lopsided smile and unique shade of blue eyes that were so bright, they lightened up his entire face.

“C’mon…I’m gettin’ hungry.”

After gathering a few stones from off the green terrain, you placed the rocks on each corner of the laid out, homemade quilt an older resident of Alexandria had given you as a way of thanking you for helping them with some mundane chores around their home. You decided to place your soon to be picnic under a large oak tree that provided shade from the bright sun that shone in the sky. With a grunt, the archer plopped down on the quilt and stretched his legs out in front of him as he watched you diligently take out the variety of foods you had packed that morning and lay them out between the two of you.

Conversations flew comfortably between you two; catching up on the things you each had done over the last few days, reminiscing on almost forgotten memories, and flirting with one another by using witty retorts and teasing jests. When you weren’t conversing and instead eating from the array of food that was laid out in front of you, comfortable silence filled the space.

“How exactly did you come across this place?” You asked the archer once your stomach was aching and full. Your back was pressed against Daryl’s chest as you sat between his legs. One of his arms had draped loosely around your waist, and the pad of his thumb slipped under the hem of your shirt to caress your hip bone.

“When I was findin’ places to make trails, guess I got lucky when I stumbled upon here.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders dismissively. Glancing down at you, heat flushed his chest when he realized you were already looking at him, staring up at him with a sense of deep attention and light in your eyes. Your eyes were magnetic, and he had a hard time looking away from you.

“I’m glad you found this place. It’s so beautiful and peaceful here…it’s like this is the one place on earth that hasn’t been touched by walkers.” A smile graced your lips as you settled comfortably against Daryl’s broad frame. The archer hummed in response and tightened his arm around your waist before letting his chin rest on the top of your head.

As another comfortable silence fell over you both, the archer was trying not to get in his head. So far, everything was going well. You seemed to be enjoying the date so far, as a wide smile hadn’t left your face since the second you drove out of Alexandria. However, there was still one remaining thing Daryl had to do; and he was growing increasingly worried that it would mess up the entire day. The archer figured he’d just have to bite the bullet already. If he allowed himself to think any harder about the potential proposal, he was sure he would back out.

Not wanting to disturb you, Daryl carefully plunged his hand into the pocket that was inside his vest. His fingers felt for the pouch that held the precious piece of jewelry and concealed it in his palm as he fished it out. The nerves in his stomach began to flare, which caused the feeling of constricting knots to form and bring him discomfort. His hands began to clam up, and sweat began to form at his hairline and down his back. If you hadn’t been so lost in the feeling of solace the forest gave you, you would have thought the archer had suddenly gotten sick.

Glancing down at you again, Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat as he took in the image of your peaceful face. You seemed to be soaking in the warm sun rays that shone down on your face, eyes gently shut while your eyelashes sat delicately on top of your skin. There wasn’t a single worry line creasing your face; which was further proof of just how relaxed you felt. It had been a while since Daryl saw you this tranquil, and he was worried he was about to ruin it. His fingers anxiously twiddled with the string of twine that kept the opening of the small black pouch sealed.

Not knowing how to approach the situation, Daryl simply tossed the pouch into your lap and hoped for the best. Although he preferred actions over words in order to express his love for you, performing romantic gestures were still rather awkward and foreign to him.

When you felt something fall onto your lap, your first instinct was to look up at the oak tree, thinking that a small cluster of acorns had fallen from one of the branches. When you turned your gaze down to your lap, you were surprised to see the pouch in your possession. Shooting a questioning look towards Daryl, you noticed the light tint of red flushing the tips of his ears, the apples of his cheeks, down his neck, and across the expanse of his chest. Whatever he had just given you, it was making him uncharacteristically nervous.

When Daryl made no effort to stop you from inspecting the item he had given you, you tentatively began to untie the piece of twine. When a few of your fingers slipped into the bag and brushed over something small and smooth, your heart began to race. You had no idea what you were expecting as you carefully shook the item out of the bag, but a diamond ring falling into the palm of your hand definitely wasn’t it. A light gasp escaped past your lips as you eyed the glistening jewel.

“Daryl…?”

After the years of knowing Daryl, you had become fluent in, as you called it, “Darylism”. You understood what each different grunt meant, what look or glare said that words didn’t, and what underlying meanings meant without having to explicitly say it. However, you had no clue what was going on now, or what this gesture meant. The lines were blurred and written in an ancient text that not even the best decipherment experts could decode. This puzzlement caused you to become stunned into silence.

Daryl interpreted your silence as rejection, and quickly tried to backpedal his initial intentions. “You don’t gotta wear it or nothin’ if you don’t wanna…” The archer trailed off, his eyes darting everywhere but your face and his fingers pulling a frayed piece of thread hanging from the hem of his black button up shirt.

“Is this…is this a proposal?” You never deemed Daryl as the marriage type, so you couldn’t help but sound a bit tentative when you asked. Tearing your gaze away from the ring that sat in the center of your palm, you looked over at Daryl.

“It can mean whatever ya want it to.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders loosely while rubbing at the back of his neck. He was still unable to look you in the eyes, but his body had angled back towards you instead of away.

Fluttering butterflies erupted in your stomach, and the sensation rose up your body until the apples of your cheeks had heat to them. The more you thought about it, the giddier you felt. The bright smile that practically hadn’t left your face all day returned, accompanied with tingling sinuses and stinging eyes full of tears that had yet to be seen. Ever since the apocalypse began, you quickly dismissed the idea of ever getting married; it just didn’t seem plausible anymore. Even after you met Daryl and fell in love with him, that ideology didn’t change much due to the fact that the archer had made zero indication, up until this point, that he wanted that with you as well. It never bothered you much, or at least you convinced yourself that it didn’t.

Now, as you had a presumed engagement ring sitting in the palm of your hand, you realized just how badly you’ve wanted that extended bond with Daryl.

“I-uh-never believed in that sorta love crap ‘fore you, and ya mean a lot to me. I guess I just want us to be closer, ya know? So that ring can mean somethin’ or nothin’ at all. Just whatever you want.” Daryl clarified in his resumed anxious ramble as your silence was beginning to become too unbearable for him to stand any longer.

His choppy efforts of trying to explicitly bare his heart out to you was endearing, and you felt your heart swell two sizes too big for your chest to hold.

“You have to say it.” You stated with a slight quiver of emotion in your voice. Tears had finally begun to well up in your eyes, and you found yourself having a hard time sitting still as you waited with anticipation.

“Huh?” The archer quickly shot his gaze towards yours, and was taken aback by the genuinely in your brightened face.

“You have to ask…the question.” You reiterated as the corners of your eyes crinkled with delight.

“I ain’t gettin’ down on one knee…I won’t be able to get back up.” Daryl grumbled as he anxiously wiped his sweaty palms over his pants.

You couldn’t help but laugh joyously at your soon to be husband’s concerns. With a slight shake of your head, you grabbed one of Daryl’s hands and placed the diamond ring in his possession with a slip of your hand. “You don’t have to…you just have to say it.”

Glancing down at the ring that now sat in his hand, Daryl’s worries were slightly relieved by your reassurances. Clearing his throat, Daryl held the ring up to you and stared deeply into your awaiting eyes.

“Will you-uh-marry me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh out of glee and throw your arms around Daryl’s neck, falling into him as your face became buried in his shoulder. The archer practically fell over as he caught your embrace. A smile danced around the corner of his lips while he allowed himself to relish in warmth he felt rushing his body. Instinctively, his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you against him.

“Yes! Yes! A million times, yes!” You were glowing with glee as you spoke the cheesy romance line.

Did you really need Daryl to ask you to marry him? No. Did you only request it just so you could see his reaction to the corny response you gave? Yes.

“Alright, ‘m takin’ that ring back now.” Daryl snickered as you pulled away from him slightly, a look of freight contorting your face that previously held a rather smug grin. A rare, teeth baring smile graced Daryl’s face as he felt your arms tighten around his shoulders.

“Absolutely not.” That seemed like enough of a statement to retract Daryl from his playful taunt. Holding your left hand out, you wiggled in excitement as he slipped the glistening diamond ring on your ring finger.

With hushed voices and tear filled eyes, you both exchanged your individual vows to each other. You didn’t need a white dress, an officiant, or guests observing the most vulnerable proclamations of love to ever be spoken in order to solidify your marriage to Daryl. Being alone with the love of your life, and surrounded by forestry that seemed unearthly and enchanted, was more beautiful and held more sincerity than any wedding party could ever hold.

As far as you and Daryl are concerned, he was your husband, and you his wife. Together, you would live happily ever after.

A/N: This was so cute to write! I’m sorry this took awhile for me to finish, I’ve just been so busy with irl stuff and it’s just exhausted me. Thank you to the anon who requested this, I hope it’s what you were looking for! Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!! <3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

Note

Could I possibly request a little Negan x hispanic!Reader? Reader has 3 kids from before the apocalypse and the toddler seems not to be scared of Negan?

Wandering Babies

Negan x plus size reader

When the ruthless leader of the Saviours bumps into a lost toddler in his city, his life gets changed forever, especially when his protective mother shows up.

Warnings: Negan being Negan, swearing, implied future relationship, fluff

WC: 1.3k

A/N: Hi nonnie! I don't usually write y/ns with a specific race since I like to remain as open as I can with them but I did give her kids traditionally Spanish names so I hope that was ok!

Minors DNI

“Well well well, what the fuck do we have here?” The sun shone brightly behind the giant of a man, casting his face in shadow. To any normal person, it would have scared the absolute shit out of them, especially with the looming threat of Lucille across his shoulders, but the toddler in front of him was smiling the whole time.

His big brown eyes focused on the man in front of him, looking at him in a way that only babies could. Kneeling down, Negan came face to face with the child. “The fuck do you want?” He said like he was addressing someone below him but the two year old just burst out into giggles, obviously finding this whole thing hilarious.

“I think that’s the new-comer’s kid.” Simon chose that moment to speak up and caused Negan to roll his eyes.

“Yeah I fuckin figured that.” He growled, not taking his eyes off the kid who was now inching closer. He wasn’t quite steady on his feet and wobbled dangerously with each step he took. Unconsciously, Negan’s free hand shot out and held the surprisingly plump belly of the child, keeping him upright. Tiny hands grabbed at his wrist but didn’t attempt to push him away. Instead he touched Negan's arm, pulling at the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“I’m just wondering how the fuck someone could lose a goddamn kid.” The toddler continued to fiddle with the dark fabric, Negan only stopping him when he tried to put it in his mouth.

Simon shrugged behind his boss. “I mean she’s got three of em and she’s working in the kitchens and the infirmary.” That shocked the older man. Working two jobs was unheard of in the Sanctuary, one job could provide more than enough for someone and their family.

The kid suddenly released his wrist and raised his arms over his head, opening and closing his chubby hands in a clear sign. Releasing a deep sigh, Negan relented. He shoved Lucille into the awaiting arms of his second in command and picked up the child with an ease of someone who has done it many times before. His little head tucked into the crook of his neck, his fluffy brown hair tickling Negan’s nose.

“How about we go find your mother huh.” The toddler nodded. Just as Negan took a step forward, already planning a very angry speech to the boy’s mom, a woman ripped out of the building and his breath caught in his throat.

Her eyes were wide with panic but that wasn’t what caught his attention. She was gorgeous, all thick curves and fat like a Greek goddess. She blazed with anxiety and rage, poised for a fight against anyone that might have taken her child. “Tomas!” The child’s head shot back, clipping Negan’s chin as he did.

“Mama!” She spun and locked eyes with the big bad leader of the Saviors and shamefully, he felt his knees buckle. Tomas squirmed in his hold, eager to reach for his mother but Negan was frozen in place. Two other children trailed behind her like ducklings, a pair of twin girls that looked to be 8 or 9 years old.

As she drew closer, he could see the details of her face, the scars and blemishes but more importantly, the huge dark circles that marred her otherwise perfect visage. She stopped a yard away from him, quickly shoving her girls behind her back. “Thank you for finding Tomas, he has a bad habit of wandering off when I’m not looking.” Her voice was steady, he supposed from years of practice.

“He is a very sweet fucking kid.” One of the girls gasped, her hand coming up to her mouth in a comical expression of shock.

“He said a bad word, mama.” The other whispered just loud enough for Negan to hear.

“You shouldn’t let your fucking kids run around without supervision, that’s how they get killed.” Her murderous glare set itself on Simon as she took another step forward. Negan could see what she was planning to do, grab Tomas and then go after the tall man.

But before she could make her move, Negan did. “How about you go and fuck off, I need to have a fucking conversation with this lovely woman and you are really killing the mood with your fuck ugly face.” There was a brief moment of tense silence before Simon thrust Lucille into his free arm and turned with a huff to walk away, muttering under his breath.

The woman breathed a sigh of relief, her walls crumbling slightly but they were quickly built back up. “Could I please have my son now?” Tomas was lifted from his arms but Negan realised he missed the weight of the toddler against his chest. He suddenly felt a hell of a lot colder than he did before.

The boy gave out a great big sigh as he settled into his mother’s bust, utterly exhausted from his escape attempt. Two little heads poked out from behind her legs, studying the man that had been holding their brother. “Well who are these two pretty girls?” Shyly, they clung to their mom’s jeans, not answering him.

“Isabella and Lucia.” She responded for them.

“Two fucking gorgeous names for two gorgeous girls.” They smiled bashfully but didn’t try to hide again, he took that as a win. “And which one of you are going to tell me your mama’s name? I bet her name is just as beautiful as her.” He raised his head to look at said woman, expecting her to be as flattered as her daughters but instead he was met with a glare even dirtier than the one she gave Simon.

“Oh now that is a dirty damn look! And I would be lying if I said it didn’t turn me the fuck on.” Her jaw ticked with annoyance but that only made his smile grow wider across his stubbled cheeks. He gave an exaggerated shiver which made the girls giggle. “Wowie your mother is goddamn scary.”

“Yeah! Once she kicked Derek’s dad in his private place because he said something mean to her.” Isabella finally spoke up, her little voice gaining confidence. Lucia nodded along with her sister in agreement, still too shy to say anything yet.

“Well Derek’s dad deserved it for being such an asshole to your lovely mother. Now how about we go have some fucking dinner and keep disguising how amazing she is.” Those seemed to be the magic words because the twins emerged fully from behind said woman’s legs and ran at him. With absolutely no hesitation, Negan dropped Lucille beside him, kicking the bat away so neither of the girls would accidentally hurt themselves.

Just like their brother, they each took hold of one of his jacket sleeves and yanked. “Can we have spaghetti?” “Do you have ice cream?” “Mama, can we go with him?” “Mama please!” “Mama!” They screamed in quick succession, not giving either adult any time to answer before asking their next question. Negan gave her a victorious look.

He could tell she wanted to say no but her girls had finally opened up to someone new for the first time since the world ended and, even though she loved them, she could use a break from their clingy behaviour. “Fine but no complaining about an early bedtime tonight. Remember mama has to work early tomorrow.” They exploded into excited shouts and began tugging the older man forward, eager to talk to him.

Negan let them pull him along but he looked back at the woman that had so entirely captured his attention, throwing her a wink. “We’ll stay up as late as you want and don’t worry about your job mama, I’ve got that all covered. You just need to sit back and relax tonight and let me do all the work.”

Her eyes widened and then darkened with a barely hidden lust at the double entendre and he just chuckled deep in his chest. He’d gotten her and maybe, just maybe, a new chance at life with this little family, all because Tomas liked to wander.

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raz-writes-the-thing · 8 months

Text

Suds (Negan Drabble)

Negan x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: You invite Negan to come shower with you.

CW: implied smut, groping, vague angst, fluff this is really mostly soft

TWD tag list: @nervoussystemss (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

It’s days like this, where Negan is tired and exhausted and just so very drained that you fall in love that much more with him. He puts on that facade all day every day. It only makes sense that eventually, he’s going to burn himself out and when he does, you’re there. Always.

Usually, when he’s like this, he can let you take control and just sit back and relax for you. Whether that be sexually, or just in terms of what the two of you planned to do that night. But tonight none of your usual tactics were working overly efficiently today.

“Come on,” you say, standing up from the sofa and holding your hand out for the man to take. He looks between your hand and your face, arching a brow in interest. You chuckle, and swat at his shoulder. “Maybe later. Come have a shower with me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows and stands, reaching for your sides to tickle you. You shriek and jump out of the way, darting for the bathroom. Negan stretches with a chuckle before retrieving some clean comfortable clothes for the both of you and following in your footsteps.

By the time he emerges in the doorway of the bathroom, you have the water on. It’s practically scalding- just the way you like it. He wrinkles his nose and tosses the clean clothes onto the closed toilet lid.

“So, let me get this straight,” Negan says, stripping his shirt off over the top of his head. “You’re inviting me to shower with you- but we’re not fucking?”

You roll your eyes and pull the last of your undergarments off, testing the water temperature before stepping inside.

“Because looking like that? Damn, babydoll- I’m just not sure if I can keep my hands to myself.”

Negan pulls his pants down off his legs and groans when the warm water hits his skin when he hops in behind you. It must be instant relief for him after the week he’s had.

“I’m not saying I’m not interested,” you say, kissing his shoulder as you encourage him to spin around to face away from you. “Just maybe a bit later. We’re both tired, love.”

Negan hums, not able to fight with you on that.

You squeeze a dollop of shampoo into your hands and lather it up before asking him to lean down for you. He chuckles but does as he’s asked for once, and you lather the shampoo into his hair. Negan groans as you massage his scalp and wash the oils and dirt away.

When you’re done and he’s washed the shampoo away, he turns around and captures you in a deep kiss. The water washes over you as he pushes you into the wall. Negan crowds into your space, running his hands over your hips, squeezing at your arse and groping at you, causing heat to flare in your gut.

You gasp into the kiss and Negan pulls away, grinning that predatory smile.

“See, that’s better,” he drawls, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Not so tired after all, huh? Pass me that soap, would you?”

You reach for the shower gel and hand it to the forbearing man in front of you. Negan pops the lid and squeezes some into his hand. This is one of his favourite things, you’ve noticed. Getting to wash you, soap you up and get you all sudsy like someone in those old magazines that used to hang up in mechanics' offices all over the world.

He’s surprisingly methodical about it, making sure to get at every exposed bit of your skin. He enjoys washing away the muck and the dirt, leaving you pristine and shiny clean.

And when he gets to the apex of your thighs and finds himself paying much closer attention to the area than strictly necessary to simply wash you, well, who are you to complain?

Especially when it leads to having him inside you, as it always does. Negan’s right.

He just can’t help himself when it comes to you.

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 9 months

Text

close to home | chapter fifty two

plot: no real plot, just nsfw content 😏

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 4,528 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, explicit sexual content (you're welcome) A/N: thank you for reading!!!

The Hilltop became your home for the time being. With all the moving parts and Alexandria being overridden, most Alexandrians ended up at Hilltop. You didn’t mind, except there were so many people it was impossible to be alone for more than five minutes.

You received a letter from Carl, and Michinne urged you to read it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open it.

Things moved slowly in the following days and a few weeks after defeating the Negan. You told Rick you couldn’t be apart of any decisions, that you didn’t have the mindset to even think about helping the saviors. And he respected your decision and let you be.

You mostly busied yourself with helping Maggie with whatever she needed. She started showing a few weeks after the end of the war, and it seemed to liven up the place. She was their leader, and the people loved her.

It was nightfall when you returned to the tent you and Daryl shared. It was much bigger than the old one since supplies had been divided up from the Sanctuary. It had enough space for a mattress, a small table that served as a nightstand, and then an old trunk that housed all the belongings that weren’t at Alexandria.

Tora was waiting for you, who had waited out the war at Hilltop. You sobbed when you finally saw her again, and she didn’t leave your side for a few days. She seemed to be mourning Carl as well and had taken up following Judith around on her walks with Michonne and Rick.

You collapsed onto the bed and looked at Tora, who was comfortable on the trunk. You stared up at the tent’s ceiling and took a deep breath. When you heard the tent unzipper, you sat up and watched Daryl walk in. You hadn’t seen him since this morning; he went out with Jesus on a run.

“I missed you,” You said to him as you leaned back, watching as he started to get ready for bed. He kicked off his shoes and then took off his shirt. His back was to you, and you stared at the angry scars on his back. Then he took off his pants, and you admired his figure before he came over to you. You sat up again and tilted your head to look up at him.

“I missed ya, too,” Daryl whispered, setting his hands on either side of your jaw and leaning down to kiss you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you. One of his hands left, and you heard the click of the lantern before he sank down next to you.

You hummed against his lips as he threaded his fingers through your hair before pushing you against the mattress. His hand moved to your waist and squeezed before his lips finally left yours.

“You drive me crazy, Daryl Dixon,” You told him, running your fingers through his hair.

“Can say the same thing ‘bout yaself,” Daryl told you and kissed you softly.

“You used to be so shy kissing me,” You chuckled. “It was the most frustrating and adorable thing all at once.”

You felt his lips smile against yours before they finally pulled away. “Yeah, well, after everythin’ and almost losin’ ya, don’t wanna regret anythin’. Besides, I love ya. Got nothing to be shy about anymore,”

You smiled and cupped his cheeks briefly before he swatted them away. “Good, because we haven’t had sex in days cause of everything, and I need you more than life itself,”

“Oh, do ya?” Daryl whispered, and you felt his facial hair tickle your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut when his lips touched your skin, and you titled your head the other way, giving him more access.

“Daryl,” You breathed out, feeling his hands move from your waist to your inner thigh.

“Mhm, I know,”

He was gone in a flash, and you heard him unzip the tent, and Tora meowing in displeasure. Then he zipped it back up and came back over to you.

You spread your legs so he could hover above you, and he didn’t waste a second before kissing you again. You ran your hands down his broad chest. No signs of bruises or cuts just hardened muscle under soft skin. You trailed your fingers down his abdomen to his briefs and snapped the band against his skin.

“Ya a real tease,” He mumbled against your lips.

You pushed him backward, flipping the two of you around, and grinded against him. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, old man,”

Daryl grabbed you by the shirt and pulled you down, taking it off before you even realized what happened. “Not an ol’ man,”

“True,” You said, circling your hips as you felt him grow harder. “An old man probably couldn’t keep up with me.”

Daryl groaned and grabbed your waist, using his hands to make you move faster. “Do ya ever just shut the hell up?”

You bit your lip to suppress the moan that bubbled in your throat when you felt his tip rub against your clit through your clothes. “I thought you liked it when I’m loud?”

***

The following day, after multiple orgasms that left you shaking on the bed the night before, and another round when Daryl woke up to your sleeping body and couldn’t stop himself from waking you up by sucking on your neck, you walked out into the brisk fall air with sore legs and a grumbling stomach.

“Give me that back,” Daryl said behind you.

“No way,” You said, stepping away from his hands when he tried to grab his vest. “I think it looks nice on me.”

“(Y/N),”

You grabbed his hands and moved closer to him, leaning up so you were closer to his face. “I tell you what, Daryl Dixon, I’m going to be walking around sore all day because you couldn’t keep your grubby hands off me, so if I wanna steal your damn vest, then I’m going to, and there’s nothing you could do about it.” You said before walking away.

But then you paused and turned around, meeting his eyes. “Besides, if you let me wear this today, maybe it’ll be the only thing I wear tonight.” When you saw his eyes widen, you smiled, “What? Don’t you like the idea of me riding you with just this on?”

With him blushing and shell-shocked, you smiled to yourself and walked away.

***

Later that day, you were sitting with Michonne while eating lunch. It was quiet while the two of you sat together and ate, and it was something you never thought you’d have again. Aside from Daryl, Michonne was your best friend and had been for a long while. Even though you disagreed with her supporting Rick’s decision, you knew why she did it. The exact reasons why you support Daryl. Because you both loved the men you were with.

“How’s Rick doing?” You asked.

“He’s okay, I think. He’s throwing himself into work. Which is better than sitting around. He wants to start clearing Alexandria soon and fixing the walls and everything else.”

“And you?”

She shrugged, “I’m okay, I guess too.” Then she looked at you, “Are you and Daryl going to come home once Alexandria is good?”

You nodded slowly. “Probably. I might bounce back and forth ‘cause of Maggie. We haven’t talked about it, but… it is home.”

***

Later that night, Daryl was anxious when he went to the tent you two shared. All day he had thought about your words, and it made fixing the walls that the firebombs from Oceanside burned hard. His hands would tremble when he thought about it too much, and Rick would ask him every so often if he was okay.

So when he approached the tent and quietly entered, his mouth parted when he saw you waiting for him exactly like you said you would.

“Sorry in advance,” Daryl said to you as he took off his shirt, eyes never leaving your body. You were sitting on your knees, completely naked, aside from the vest that teasingly covered your breasts and nothing else. You sat with your legs spread out so he could see every inch of you.

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause ya gonna be sore again tomorro’,”

Daryl swallowed as he knelt down on the mattress in front of you as moved so you were on your knees, and he brushed your hair back, which was, for once, not in a braid. His calloused hands caressed your cheek, down your neck, and through the center of your chest before they gripped your waist and pulled you so you were chest to chest.

His gaze went back to your face, searching your eyes for that look you consistently gave him since before he even recognized what it was. If there was one thing the savior war did, it was prove to him how much you loved him. It was what he reminded himself of when he doubted you loved him. But he saw it in the way you looked at him, the way you teased him with little jokes or sarcastic comments. But more importantly, it was the way you gave him your life for him so many times. And he loved you every bit as you loved him.

His eyes closed when he felt your hands on his bare chest. Your cold fingers from the chilly fall air left goosebumps on his skin. His heart beat erratically when he opened his eyes again and looked down at you.

“I would do anythin’ for ya,” His voice was deep and gruff, a contrast to the meaning words he spoke. Words that he held in reserve for you and only you.

You smiled and leaned up, rubbing your nose against his for a second. “I know,” You whispered.

Finally, he couldn’t resist it anymore and leaned down to kiss you deeply. His tongue ran against your bottom lip, and he pulled you even closer to him. As he kissed you, he pushed you backward.

When he carefully had you on the mattress, he grabbed your thigh and opened your legs before he hovered between them.

“Tell me again,” Daryl mumbled against your neck as he pressed kisses down to your collarbone.

“I love you,” You breathed out.

His lips continued its trail until they got to your breasts, and he pushed the sides of the vest away to kiss the soft skin before darting out his tongue over your nipple. Hearing your moan, he moved to the other one and repeated his actions. When your back arched and your fingers threaded through his hair, he felt himself grow harder.

Then he continued down, leaving kisses and licks down your abdomen, feeling the weight you’d put back on the past few weeks with his hands. He squeezed the soft skin and left kisses around your belly button before adjusting himself and lying flat across the mattress with his head between your legs.

“Daryl,” You moaned.

He pulled your legs further apart with his hands and held them down. His lips further nipped, kissed, and licked at your inner thighs. The moonlight shining through the tent’s roof allowed him to see each dip and curve of your skin and the freckles that dotted your thigh.

He listened to you moan his name again, back arching off the bed already and hands gripping the blanket. He smiled to himself as you withered underneath him. Daryl hadn’t done this to you, nor any woman, for a very long time.

But hearing you moan his name and seeing the way your body reacted to his touch before he even got started was enough of an invitation. So he dipped his head down, and with one struck up your center, you had to cover your mouth.

He gripped your thighs tighter as you tried to clench around him, your body shaking. He repeated his actions slowly, each time getting the same reaction. His tongue dipped into the curves, and his cock twitched at how wet you were. It pooled on his tongue with each lick.

And when he finally circled your clit with his tongue, your hands fisted in his hair, and he moaned into you. Slowly, he let one of your thighs go and brought his finger to you, playing with your entrance before sliding it in.

“Daryl…” You moaned loudly. He knew it was too loud, but he continued his movements and wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking lightly and using his tongue to swipe back and forth. As he heard his name again from your lips, he added a second finger and pumped harder. Anything to listen to his name again or make you feel this way.

His fingers rubbed the soft ribbed spot a few inches deep that he knew had you breathless. When your hands pulled at his hair and your body started shaking, he knew you were close. He also knew he would finish if he kept this up anymore.

So he moved his fingers faster, rubbing that spot and licking your clit repeatedly in a circle, making you breathe faster and faster. And he knew exactly when you were going to climax because you clenched around his fingers, and he had to reach up to cover your mouth with his hand.

Your body shook as you came down from your high, and he felt your hands reaching for him.

“Come here,” You whined, and he immediately moved to you. Your hands grabbed his face, and your lips met his feverishly, moaning as they did. Daryl lost his balance at your desperation, and his body rested against yours as you parted his lips with your tongue and sucked on his.

He grinded his hips against yours, rubbing himself against you and feeling your cum and wetness soak into his briefs.

Your moan broke apart the kiss, and he let out a deep breath of air. “Ya like that, don’t ya? Tasting ya self like that.” He mumbled against your lips as he grinded against you again.

You nodded, mumbling just how much you liked it, and he felt your hands pushing down his briefs. He had no clue how you got them off so fast, but your desperation for him had his heart beating in his throat, and the only thing he could feel from you was how much you loved him, how much you wanted him.

That feeling drove him mad; the feeling of being wanted. It was like a drug to him. It was better than anything he’d ever had, and he wanted to bask in it. He wanted to wrap himself up in it and never let it go. The way you wanted in him in every way had him ready to risk anything, do anything just to keep it.

“Now, Daryl,” You said, breaking apart his thoughts. He felt your cold fingers wrap around him as you lined him up. “Oh my God, now,”

The both of you moaned when he pushed himself in, and he couldn’t stop himself after that. He thrusted faster and harder, leaving you breathless, and needy for more. He felt your legs around his waist, which let him go deeper than before.

Daryl would’ve loved to put you on your knees and bend you over, which he hadn’t had the opportunity to do to you yet, so he could go even faster and harder. But then he couldn’t look down at your face; your eyes either glazed over with tears from the pleasure or closed tight while biting your lip. He couldn’t watch the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, but mostly because he couldn’t look you in the eyes while you came, which was a level of intimacy he’d never had with anyone but craved with you.

“Daryl, I’m gonna…” You trailed off, fingernails biting at his skin and edging him further.

“Don’ gotta hold it back,” He said, holding his thrusts for an extra second before he pulled out.

Daryl’s gaze met yours and he leaned down, kissing your forehead. He felt that same feeling around his cock and knew you were about to lose it. So he bent down and kissed you through your moans, which effectively silenced you.

After you finished, your bodies still moving together, you cupped his cheeks and he stared down at you, watching a teardrop fall. “I love you, Daryl Dixon,”

He nodded and leaned down as he thrust hard, “Love ya, (Y/N),”

The feeling of being inside you was everything to him at that moment. It told him that everything was over, that you were finally, truly his. He could sink into you night after night, morning after morning, and he didn’t have to worry about you being taken. He was free to love you with every part of himself.

“You’re…gonna…make me so sore,” You breathed out in a soft moan.

“That’s the plan,” Daryl said, his arms twitching from supporting his weight for so long. But he ignored the burning in his forearms. “Want you to remember with every fuckin’ step ya take,”

You moaned at his words and gripped his shoulders. “That was the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me,” You said.

He felt his cheeks heat up a bit, and then he felt how you’d clenched yourself around him at those words. He thought about everything he wanted to say to you in bed, when he was so deep in you that he couldn’t tell where he started and you ended. He wanted to say a million dirty things to you but didn’t know how.

Daryl knew you were getting close again; how your body responded to each thrust was a dead giveaway. And he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer either. Not with the multiple rounds last night and this morning. But God did he went to keep himself in you as long as possible.

“I love you,” Daryl heard you say, repeatedly moaning it over and over again.

He felt your walls clench tighter and tighter around him, and he knew you only had a few seconds. He tried to suppress his own orgasm the best he could as he sent you over the edge. But when you loudly moaned his name, and he felt you cum around his choke, he couldn’t pull out fast enough.

“Don’t stop,” You moaned, grabbing his shoulders through your high. “I don’t care, just keep going,”

Perhaps it was the ecstasy, or how connected the two of you felt like this, but neither of you could stop yourselves from this. So Daryl kept thrusting as he came, pushing in as deep as possible. His eyes shut tight as he filled you up, so much so he could feel it coming out with each slowing thrust. He pumped himself into you, wanting to get every last drop deep inside of you.

Your high was ending, and the warmth between your legs made you want more and more. You couldn’t help yourself.

Finally, his movements stopped, and he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. He felt your fingers gently thread through his hair, and then your lips kiss the top of his head. Then he slowly pulled out of you and rolled over so he was lying next to you.

You couldn’t stop yourself from climbing over his lap so you were sitting on his groin. “You made a mess,” You whispered, leaning down so you could kiss him.

“Ya begged for it,” Daryl gruffed in that voice that only came from after sex. His hazy eyes glanced at you, still wearing his damn vest.

You grinded your clit against his cock as you felt his cum leak out of you. “That was the hottest sex I think we’ve ever had, old man, but I don’t think I’m going to be as sore as you think I will be,”

His hands gripped your waist, “That ya comin’ on to me or what?”

You repeated your actions again slowly, giving him time to recover. “Oh, I'm coming on to you. Figured I could do all the work this time,”

Daryl tried not to smile as he looked up at your finger, illuminated by the soft light coming through the tent. His eyes were heavy, and he was exhausted, but the feeling of your dripping pussy over his cock had him wanting more, and he knew he wouldn’t stop fucking you until he passed out from it.

“You know,” You said quietly, circling your hips. “I never expected this from you. You’re more sexual than I thought,”

“Me too."

He heard your giggle and lifted his hips a bit to make you feel better. Which it did, from the look on your face.

“I can stop if you want,” You whispered as you leaned down. “Just say the word, okay?”

“If I ever tell ya to stop, shoot me with my bow."

You laughed loudly and straightened up. “You’re too cute."

He grunted and reached between your legs, rubbing your clit to shut you up. He watched your mouth part in pleasure, and he felt a jolt run through his body. It had only been a few minutes, but he knew it wouldn’t be long until he was ready.

“Daryl…” You breathed out, “I said I was going to do the work,”

His finger slipped between your bodies, and he slowly pumped it in. You were so wet still, and warm, and dripping with him. It was addicting. He ignored your comment and brought his other hand to your clit, which had you groan.

“Jesus Christ,” You said.

He bit down on his cheek as he looked up at you. You’d leaned back, resting your hands on the mattress behind you. Your body was stretched out, showing off each curve, your breasts, and the pussy he now had two fingers in. Your fourth orgasm hit you, and he continued his slow pump, which drove you crazy.

Daryl’s movements were slow, teasing, as he felt himself start to get hard. He knew you felt it immediately because you sat straight up and moved his hand away and started grinding against him, hard. He couldn’t understand how much energy you had after everything you’d done today, but he loved it.

As soon as you could, you sank down on his cock and moved. You didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath before you were circling your hips and slowly moving up and down.

Daryl’s mind felt like it was on fire as he watched you, his hands touching anywhere they could. He couldn’t look away from your face, breasts, or where his cock disappeared into you. With each bounce, he met you with a thrust, and only after a couple did you press your hands flat against his chest.

“I said I’m doing the work, Dixon, so slow your roll.”

He nodded and just grabbed your waist, watching as you fucked him. But he couldn’t stop himself, and he sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your breasts rubbed against his chest, and he reached down to grab your ass.

You moaned, moving your body fast. He knew you were getting close, and with how fast you were moving and how incredible you looked, he would follow you right along. You ran your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck.

He squeezed your ass as he pressed his lips against your collarbone. “Oh, darlin'..." He groaned.

You kissed his neck before leaning back, “I want you to cum inside of me again."

Daryl looked at you as you moved up and down, using his shoulders to balance you. He wanted the same thing more than anything. But his mind took him back to earlier, how you were so desperate for it. Then he leaned his mouth toward your ear, “Beg me for it,”

“Fuck,” You mumbled. “Daryl…”

You pushed him backward, hard, and Daryl’s back hit the mattress with a thud. Then you moved your hips even faster, grinding them up and down. He thrusted upwards and you whimpered, his name coming out as a moan.

“I want you to, Daryl,” You said, moving as fast as your straining legs allowed. You begged him desperately for what you wanted.

His hands gripped your waist as you continued to beg him. The words struck him deep as you moaned and whimpered. When his hand went to your clit, you nearly shouted out your begs, a string of obscenities and desires; all the words you whimpered out in that begging tone of yours had him shaking.

And when he felt you start to orgasm, he followed you. He painted your insides, and he watched you sink down onto his cock again and again as he did. He kept thrusting as long as he could, wanting to fill you again and again, and watch it drip out of your pussy and down onto his cock.

He only realized how loud you were when he stopped focusing on how your pussy looked with his cum leaking from it, and he grabbed your arm and pulled you down. You continued to moan your pleasure into his neck before you finally rolled off of him, breathing heavily.

His tired eyes closed momentarily as he took a deep breath to calm himself down. His heart was beating fast, and he couldn’t keep his eyes closed when he heard you move.

“I love you,” Your voice was quiet, and he felt you kiss his shoulder.

“I lova ya, too,” Daryl said.

He took a deep breath and moved, reaching for the shirt he had discarded on the floor. Then he wiped your thighs to clean you up, and then himself.

“I’m thirsty,” You yawned.

Daryl sighed softly and looked at you for a moment before he pulled on pants and a shirt and grabbed an empty container. “I’ll get ya some water.” He kissed your forehead and then was gone.

The community was quiet, and only one of the lights from the trailers was still on. He prayed that whoever was in there didn’t hear you. After getting water from the pump and returning to the tent, his facial features softened when he saw you passed out on the mattress. He could see your naked body and quickly zipped the tent behind him.

The water canteen was discarded, and he climbed into the bed and pulled up the covers. Then he wrapped his arm around your stomach and pulled your sleeping body so your back was against his chest.

He pressed a kiss behind your ear before shutting his eyes and falling asleep.

#daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #twd #daryl twd #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x you

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ficnation · 10 months

Text

Lovely - Negan Smith x Reader

requested by anonymous

Prompt list 1: 41. “I hate you.”

“Why? I’m lovely.”

Word count: 400+

Pairing: Negan Smith x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: none

A/n: Enjoy this short drabble and please reblog!

Main Masterlist

The Walking Dead Masterlist

The outside is quiet as you stroll around the courtyard, boots thumping on the concrete under your feet. The night is peaceful; only the hushed voices of the crew on watch shift echo in the chilly air. A shiver rolls down your spine as you stretch your arms above your head with a yawn.

Suddenly, large, warm hands are placed on your waist, tickling your exposed flesh, startling you. You thrash around in the stranger’s arms, kicking your legs as you open your mouth to scream for help.

A palm presses over the bottom half of your face, and a very familiar voice shushes you. “It’s just me, sweetheart.”

It takes a moment for your brain to connect the voice to the face of your husband, but when you do, you exhale deeply. You nod your head for the man to release you, the tension disappearing from your body as he withdraws his touch.

You turn around to meet his eyes, slapping his leather-clad chest in annoyance. “I hate you,” you groan.

Negan grins smugly, catching your hands in his. He lifts them up to his face, leaving kisses over your knuckles. “Why? I’m lovely.”

The scowl on your face quickly turns into a soft smile as the man’s salt-and-pepper beard tickles your skin. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer into his embrace, kissing your forehead with a deep hum.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you.” His words are almost a hungry growl as he feels your hands sliding underneath the hem of his jacket and the shirt beneath.

He’s been away the majority of the day, and even when he was around, he had so much stuff going on it was hard to catch him alone. But the thought of your touch, your kisses, and sweet giggles hasn’t left his mind even once since the day started.

“Show me,” you challenge him with a chuckle.

He grins and grabs a hold of the bottom of your shirt, toying with it, his eyes locked on yours. “I plan to. Believe me, sweetheart,” his voice is velvety; it sends shivers down your spine. “I’ve been thinking of you all damn day.”

Negan pulls you closer and kisses your neck like a man starved. You can feel his warm breath against your skin as his lips glide back and forth. He slides his chin across your neck and nibbles on your ear. His jaw is tense. You can tell that he wants you—really bad. It's a promise that he'll show you just how much he missed you.

Taglist: @hopefulatrocity @witheringblooddemon @humanmistakes @yttricuz @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelff @spidergirla5 @sexyseabass @sweetpotatospock @witchygagirl @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @hopefulatrocity

#the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd #negan x reader #negan x you #negan smith #twd negan #negan smith x reader #negan x gender neutral reader #negan smith x gender neutral reader #the walking dead fic

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ly-canthropewrites · 2 years

Text

Dark Days

Pairing: Negan x Reader

Word Count: 628

Rating/Warnings: SFW. Has themes of depression and mental illness, however, nothing explicit.

Summary: Some days are harder than others, and that isn’t your fault.

He walks in the darkened room to find you laying on your stomach, chin resting upon your crossed forearms and your eyes glazed over, stuck in the middle of a daydream. Your bare shoulders peeking out from under the quilt and the soft tips of your hair lightly tickle your skin.

“You okay, baby girl?” he speaks softly, as if not to startle you suddenly from your imagination.

You hum lowly, eyes shifting back into sharpness and you turn your head to look up at him, tired eyes depicting your exhaustion.

He walks closer and reaches out, fingertips barely a whisper across your shoulder blades, leaving goosebumps and fire in their wake. The pads of his fingers run back and forth across the expanse of your back, savouring the softness of your skin and consequently, pleasing himself to find you easing beneath his gentle touch.

The bed shifts and dips as he kneels onto it, clambering over you and he momentarily pauses as he hovers above you. He takes the opportunity to plant a scruffy kiss to the centre of your spine before continuing on, dropping to your right and groans as he stretches out beside you.

You turn your head once more to follow him, watching his face as he lets go of the day and sinks into relaxation. He feels your stare and meets it with gentle eyes.

Concern flits in the background and he tries his best to hide it from you, but you know him too well and as it keeps mounting, it becomes harder to hide. He is worried, deeply terrified because you haven’t been yourself in weeks and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey pretty lady,” he whispers, reaching out to tuck back a few stray locks of hair from your eyes and greedily runs the backs of his knuckles down your jawline.

Your eyes flutter closed, eyelashes kissing the tops of your cheeks and he swears he has never seen someone as ethereal as you.

“How are you feeling today?” he prods, letting his thumb soothingly skim across the height of your cheekbones, the action drawing a barely audible sigh from your lips but he hears it nonetheless.

You don’t have the energy or the care to shrug, so instead, you hum, the low tone speaking more words than you ever could have.

“S’okay sweetheart. I understand,” he says, so terribly gentle with you, it makes your heart ache from the compassion that is rained down upon you.

He puts an arm over you and draws you closer to him, pulling you flush to his chest, cocooning you with a blanket of warmth and love. The dancing fingers that were previously tickling your face now carcass your back, an action that is automatic by the man behind you, acting as if he would perish if he wasn’t touching you in some way. Or perhaps it would be you that would disappear before his very eyes. Unbeknown to you, that is his greatest fear.

You note the lessened amount of curse words tonight, and you find yourself certain it is intentional, that when he truly cares; his words become delicate and the exuberance fades away. It gives you the courage to speak up, if only for a bit.

“I’ll be okay. I just... get like this every now and then,” you whisper back, vulnerability laced in your words and written across your face.

“I know you will, doll. You are my fucking firecracker. You will be okay,”.His words validate you, reinforcing the truth that you know deep down. Sometimes you just need someone else to tell you that you will survive and can quell the demons in your head. And that someone is him.

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pumpkin-writes · 8 months

Text

good girl

sanctuary!negan x hyper fem!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, a little bit of plot but mostly smut, established relationship, age gap ( negan is in his 50s & reader is mid-20s ) f!receiving oral, fingering ( thinking about negan's hands PLS ) praise kink, lotta petnames, lotta dirty talk, daddy kink, some crying but like happy tears, maybe slight degradation kink, uhh, light slapping & choking, some soft cute shit toward the end there but this is some dirtyyy smut so buckle up

word count: 1.9k

notes: i haven't published any fics, let alone smut in forever, so please bare with me if this is subpar but i've been itching to read something like this and couldn't find it so i just got inspired to write it myself lol anyway i hope y'all enjoy <3 any feedback is welcome & let me know if y'all would read a part 2!

you had been at the sanctuary for a few months now, having been found by negan and his men one day when you were having a particularly hard time getting away from walkers that had already killed the group you were traveling with, and you would've been next had the saviors not come across you. from the minute negan laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted you. and it didn't take much for him to have you. the saviors were you family now, they'd taken you in and protected you. negan had personally made sure you got whatever you wanted, and you spent most of your days now lounging around the spacious room you shared with him, reading mostly.

when you first arrived at the sanctuary, you'd heard from plenty of people about negan's reputation. the brutal killings, the public humiliations, the wives, but since you'd been there, things were different. yes, negan was still a monster in the eyes of most, but you chose to see the good in him. he had been loyal to you since you got there, that being your main condition of being with him. he dropped all his wives in a heartbeat for the chance to be with you. it sure was nice to have a sweet young thing like yourself to come back to after a long day. you were so naive and hopeful even in a world gone to shit, and he got a hell of a kick out of it.

you'd been sitting on the queen sized bed you and negan shared, back against the wall while you read your book. you'd just taken a nice warm shower and slipped into some pajamas; silky pink shorts and a white cotton camisole top with a lace trim. you hadn't worn clothes like this since before, but you always loved the more feminine things in life. now that you were with negan, you were spoiled with gifts of the sort. you had lit some candles across the room, and the lamp on your bedside table flickered on so you could read comfortably as the night came to an end, and negan would be coming in any minute now.

as if you'd telepathically summoned him, he came through the door, beaming at you instantly. "there she is," he began, pulling his iconic leather jacket off and tossing it on the back of the chair in the corner of the room. "how's the book, baby doll?" he asked, sitting on the same chair for a moment to unlace his boots, kicking them off his feet so he could climb onto the bed with you. "just starting to get good." you admitted, sticking your bookmark in the small paperback before shutting it and setting it on the table to your left. he'd crawled up beside you, his feet still hanging off the end of the mattress, his hands snaking around your waist, allowing him to bury his head in your lap, taking a deep breath. your sweet smell flooded his senses, and he let out a primal groan. his day had been so long and stressful, but it all seemed to wash away now that he was alone with you for the night.

a giggle escaped your lips when he began to litter the soft skin of your bare thighs in kisses, the scruff of his beard tickling you and driving you crazy. "negan," you whined, trying to pull away from his grip, but you grew weaker with every kiss, and were no match from his strength. "oh, come on, kitten," he pleaded against your skin, his hands starting to explore your body, making your heart beat harder in your chest. he kept one hand firmly planted on your hip, using his thumb to rub soft circles into your skin while his other hand slipped under your tank top. when he reached your breasts, he couldn't help but squeeze, and you noticed his breaths got heavier as well. by now he'd kissed every square inch of your thighs, and his big brown eyes looked up at yours, pleading to take your shorts off. "let daddy make you feel good." he almost sounded like he was begging, and you nearly fell apart, unable to speak because your breath was caught in your throat, so you simply nodded.

without second thought, both of negan's hands came down to eagerly pull your shorts off, quickly discarding them off the side of the bed, his eyes never leaving your body as he did. the look in his eye was predatory. you drove him wild. not only did he find you physically attractive as all hell, he also enjoyed that naivety of your's. it was fun to get to be one of the first men to corrupt your innocence. it was an honor. "look at my pretty little angel." he cooed, the nickname he so often called you sending chills down your spine, lust building at your core as he took in how delectable you looked like this. he pulled himself up off his elbows, sitting up to bring his lips to yours. his hand ran up your thigh as you opened your mouth into his. your tongues danced for a moment, savoring the taste of one another while his fingers slowly made their way down the inside of your leg, finally meeting the soft, damp fabric of your panties.

"fuckkk baby," negan moaned into your mouth, pleasantly surprised at how wet you'd already been, making your cheeks fill with a hot blush. his big fingers rubbed circles into you through the thin fabric of your underwear, that were starting to soak completely as his lips made their way off yours. he left a trail of wet, sloppy kisses along your chin and down your neck, only stopping once or twice to suckle at your soft skin, inciting a whimper to escape your lips. your needy sounds only fueled the fire raging inside of him, and he made that clear with the almost mean smile he was sporting. "tell me what ya want, sweetheart." his voice was low and demanding, sending another wave of chills throughout your body. you gulped hard, "i want you, daddy." now you were the one begging, and negan loved it.

his head dipped back down to meet your crotch, forcing your legs open to either side of him, and he took another deep breath; just the smell of you putting him in a trance. "damn, princess," he teased, biting his lip before he finally pulled your panties to the side, revealing your drenched, pink folds, "so fucking wet for daddy, you're such a good girl." he growled, not allowing another second to pass by before ravaging your sex. the moment his tongue met your skin, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. "n-negan," you gasped, your hand reaching for a fistful of his hair, causing him to smile hard against you. but he never let up, tonguing figure-eights around your sensitive bud before letting it roll down to lap you up good and proper, lapping at your hole as if it was his life force.

negan's hands ran wild with his head between your legs, he couldn't just stop and touch you in one place, he wanted to touch all of you. while one tugged at your soft nipples, the other wrapped underneath you, cupping at your ass and pulling you closer into his mouth. you were putty in his hands, literally unraveling right here as he sent pleasure like you'd never known before through your entire body. just when you thought you felt the warm, fuzzy beginnings of an orgasm building up in your belly, he pulled from you with a 'pop,' and you let out what negan thought was the most pathetic, adorable little whine.

"what's the matter, darlin'?" he encouraged you to speak. he loved watching you try to pull together coherent sentences when you were so drunk on sex, it was a little fucked up but that was just part of the fun. "tell daddy what you want, sugar." he now used one hand to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, while the other still rubbed sloppy circles into your slick, making you whimper. "i want to cum, daddy." you managed to implore, tearing swelling up in your eyes as you looked up at him, desperate for him to keep going. "yeah ya do," he laughed at you, at how much of a slut he could make you, for him. he squeezed your face in his hand before hooking two of his fingers deep inside of you without warning, causing you to unravel all over again. the look on your face made his eyes light up, and his dick throb even harder in his pants, and he started to get carried away with you. his fingers slammed mercilessly into your center, and his other hand found it's way around your throat. not being able to breathe for just that first initial moment evoked a sense of fear from you, but that only made the wires in your brain cross even more. the feeling of his fingers working at the plush flesh deep inside of you was taking over your whole body, and once your legs started to tremble, negan played into you. "come on angel, cum for daddy." he released his grip on your throat only to slap your cheek lightly in encouragement.

negan treated you in a way that you never had been before in the bedroom. he made you so needy for him, he made you crave his touch, and you never wanted him to stop. when your orgasm finally flooded your senses, you let out euphonious symphony of moans. the entirety of the sanctuary knew more than they needed to about what happened in your bedroom, but negan loved to boast about making your scream for him. something about the hold he had on you made him feel untouchable, though he already knew he was without it. "i know, it feels good, huh? what a good girl," he praised you as you rode out this high, his fingers still knuckles deep inside of you. when he finally pulled from you, you were a sopping mess. he brought his fingers to the entrance of your lips, which you quickly opened for him to stick them inside, sucking your juices off of him. a guttural groan erupted from negan's lips, throwing his head back at how bad he wanted you right now. your legs slowly shut while negan palmed at the bulge of his pants, laying back in bed beside you, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

"you okay, honey?" he questioned with a chuckle, noticing your eyes were shut and you hadn't moved or said anything since he'd finished dishing out your pleasure. you simply nodded, a small giggle slipping from your lips. "never better." you cleared your throat, finally moving only to stretch your arms and legs out with a yawn. negan pouted, his eyes looking at you like that of a puppy dog, "don't fall asleep on me now, baby." he reached to grab your knee, his touch sending shivers down your back and making the hair on your arms stand right up. you were still trembling from the intense orgasm he'd just delivered, trying to reel yourself back in before hearing his next words.

"i don't think i'm quite done with you."

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan smith #negan #twd #the walking dead #negan smut #negan x reader #the walking dead smut #twd negan #mine

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

Text

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 4: Only Your Word

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: references to sexuality (ooo spicy), women not having rights I guess?, idk what else ❧ Word Count: 6.5k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Four months have passed since Sir Daryl first escorted you outside the castle walls, and you've grown quite fond of him, just as he has grown fond of you. However, there's trouble afoot with the mysterious Sir Negan and his Saviors gaining the upper hand against King Ezekiel's forces, and it is revealed that Sir Negan's threats hold more water than you initially thought.

❧ A/N: Ayyy this is a fun chapter. I loved writing in Michonne and Maggie as reader's ladies-in-waiting! And yeah, the princess and the knight are starting to fall for each other. Lots of mutual pining going on. Oh, and a really, really cute scene between them at the end... I also loved her convo with Ezekiel. Oh, and Shiva makes an appearance too! Just lots of fun stuff this chapter.

The lady’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk, while the other lady side-eyed her with a similar expression of impish delight.

“What are you looking so smug for, Margaret?” you asked, letting your needlework settle into your lap. “And you, Michonne? Did you not come from the duke’s bed this morning, hm?”

The dread-locked woman’s smile faded, but Margaret only bursted out into a loud cacophony of laughter. “Oh, you’re both lecherous, lascivious, unchaste women.”

“I am not!” you replied quickly, serious in your tone. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’ll have you know that I am as pure as the driven snow. Michonne is the unchaste one, I tell you.”

“There’s no reason I shouldn’t court the duke,” defended Michonne. “We’re of the same social standing. It is you, your highness, who is sleeping with―”

You dropped your embroidery hoop once more, this time with more fervor as you scowled at your lady-in-waiting and pointed accusatory in her direction. “I am sleeping with no one!” you replied. “And you’d better not spread that rumor, Michonne. I’m quite serious.”

Margaret stood from her chair to cross the solar and throw herself dramatically on the upholstered chaise lounge upon which you sat. With a flourish, she grabbed your hoop and tossed it carelessly upon the timber floor.

“Excuse you, madam!” you laughed.

“Tell us about Sir Daryl,” she replied, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She nudged your shoulder with increasingly impatient shoves as you remained silent, hindering a giggle.

“Yes, tell us about how gallant he is,” laughed Michonne.

“Is he quite… muscular?” prodded Margaret.

Informing your ladies-in-waiting about the several excursions with the knight you’d made in the last four months was quickly becoming regretful. They’d been begging you for over a week to spill the details, each time insisting upon something more happening. But, alas, there wasn’t much to tell. Sir Daryl was your friend, yes, but nothing more. He cared for you, and, in many ways, you cared for him. He wasn’t like any knight you’d ever read about, he was… unconventional. He obeyed his lord, but he abided by his own code of conduct first and foremost. That code of conduct was not purely based in chivalry, as most knights seemed to be.

That all being said, he was still so valiant, heroic, noble, even, in his own way. He was both the perfect picture of a knight, and the exact opposite. It almost frustrated you how much of a contradiction he was, and it led you to think of him much more than you would’ve had he been completely straightforward and easily understood, but he wasn’t. Even after five or six different trips to the outside, you still couldn’t quite get a handle on him. It thrilled you more than you were willing to outwardly admit, but inside you, you did feel a strange tickle at the pit of your stomach whenever you heard his voice call your name, or his hand touched you to instruct you with his knife, after he insisted that you learn to defend yourself against the Dead.

In your thoughts, you’d become too lost to recall Margaret’s question, until it boomeranged back into the forefront of your mind―is he quite muscular?

A man’s figure had never really intrigued you before. What you knew of most men in court was that they were most often clad in loose-fitting tunics that failed to reveal any kind of silhouette. Daryl dressed not too dissimilarly, but the minimal armor he wore was tight-fitting enough to outline the brawny frame underneath. There were times he’d had to strip himself of his outer layers, namely his cloak and his surcote, until he was just in his linen shirt and chausses. Despite every convention that told you to pay no mind to the man’s undergarments, you found it nearly impossible not to allow yourself one or two curious moments to look upon the knight’s build.

Of course he was quite muscular, he had to be. Though during your outings he did not wear a full suit of armor, he still carried about his person a heavy baldric and a greatsword, as well as an arbalest and a myriad of other weapons you could not bear to count. But he seemed soft, too, not having flesh that stretched thin over his lean muscles. No, he was still quite bulky, and warm. Very warm. So warm you but had to stand beside him to feel it.

It occurred to you then how much time you’d spent thinking about the knight’s body, and how close you’d been to seeing it bare.

“I do not know, Margaret,” you lied. “How would I know such a thing?”

The lady narrowed her olive-colored eyes with knitted brows that further served to question you. Disbelief had characterized the ladies’ attitudes towards your denial, though it was true that you’d never touched the man more than a hug. If that was love, then perhaps you were in love, but you weren’t quite that naïve. At least, you weren’t naïve enough to admit it.

“All knights are muscular,” answered Michonne matter-of-factly. “Let her highness be. Poor thing must already receive quite the thumping from Sir Dar―”

“Thumping?!” you replied, your horrified voice resounding over the ladies’ raucous laughter. “You’re terrible!”

The ladies’ mirth soon died down to a faltering giggle. Margaret sat up straight as she reached her hands up to fix her pearl-encrusted hennin, adjusting the translucent white veil back to its original dignified position.

“Have you thought of it?” she asked with a smirk.

“Of what?” You feigned innocence until the last possible second. It wouldn’t be befitting of a lady to even insinuate that you knew what she was talking about, but you did. From the moment he first put his hands on you, you knew of that desire, though you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t him who sparked it, but just the feeling. Any man could give you that feeling, right? Not just some knight…

“Of laying with him?”

“No, not at all,” you lied again. “That would be wrong, you know that. We’re not married, and we could never be married, anyway. In any case, my feelings are not of that nature.”

Even as those false words tore through your vocal cords, you knew it was wrong, and you realized then, with a pit forming in your stomach and a rush of tingles surging through your veins, that you did feel some kind of attraction to the knight. It was evident in every thought of him that lingered in your mind long after he’d leave you alone in your chambers after a day of frolicking in the meadows and listening to the soft-spoken, knowledgeable man speak of every herb and tree and flower, his voice both gentle like a whisper and rough like sandpaper.

You found that an emptiness creeped up on you at times when he wasn’t near you, a sense of something missing that had taken root inside your heart. When those roots were torn from you, you would soothe yourself with the recorded memory of his voice, his face, his body…

Perhaps I do feel something for Sir Daryl, you thought to yourself.

But it didn’t matter what the true nature of your feelings were. The truth was that you could never admit these thoughts to anyone, not even him, and especially not your father.

It wasn’t like you found yourself rather fond of a man like Duke Richard, who was below your class, but high enough to be your suitor. A knight was below nobility. Higher than the serfs, but too low for a woman of your status, the highest status. He would’ve been able to court a lady perhaps, like Michonne or Margaret, or any woman of noble birth, but not you. Certainly not you.

So you willed the thoughts from your mind whenever they materialized, however they did so. The difficulty was in denying yourself the strange pleasure you felt from thinking of him, the longing. It was nearly unbearable to send those enchanting little shivers away, or to tear your gaze from him when you spotted him from a distance in the courtyard or the great hall. Oh, how you wished to allow yourself the thrill of thinking of him and his sweetness, his kindness, his devotion to you… But it was much too risky.

What you didn’t know, though, was how he ached for you, too.

That very same evening, you’d been called to dinner with your father in the great hall, just as usual, but there was something on the king’s mind. His joviality was much more subdued, almost to the point of melancholy, but he kept his spirits up artificially. Smiles were propped up on crutches and laughs were haphazardly pieced together by glue. In fact, he hadn’t been himself for a while, but it was a gradual change in demeanor that seemed to evolve into a darker shade of blue as the days went by.

There was much for him to be saddened by―the world was broken, he was indefinitely grieving the tragic loss of your mother, but these things had always been there since the Scourge began. No, this was something different, but you weren’t going to prod him, since it seemed that he himself wanted to display his usual image of jolly optimism.

As you poked at your generous helping of pheasant and turnips, the king talked at length about his plans for the upcoming annual jousting tournament, to which you simply nodded and interjected occasional brief acknowledgements. Noticing your lack of enthusiasm on the topic, he ventured to change the subject.

“I’ve been told you’ve fallen ill several times when I’m away,” he said, garnering your attention rather ungraciously as you bit your tongue in the midst of chewing on the tender game. As you dabbed your lips with your cloth serviette, he continued, his voice not coated in distrust or suspicion of your subterfuge, but drenched in fatherly concern. “Tell me, what seems to be the ailment, my dear? I could send for the apothecary… I’m concerned for you. I couldn’t bear to think…” His voice quivered before it trailed off into nothingness. Reaching across the surface of the wooden table, he grasped your hand. “Speak to me.”

What were you to say? Oh, father, I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I might be falling in love with a knight who is so graciously sneaking me out of the kingdom when you’re away! Or, if you continued the ruse, you were sure that the king’s apothecary would diagnose you with a typical case of hysteria, or perhaps a wandering womb. Perhaps both. A woman’s medical health was scarcely taken seriously, and besides, there was nothing wrong with you, anyway. If you were found to be hysteric, there was a chance you’d be married off immediately to whatever suitor was closest at hand. Afterall, the first and foremost remedy for a hysterical woman was sex with a man. Something about “sexual frustration” and the “healing properties of semen.” You weren’t entirely sure, as you’d put down that book on common medical ailments about as soon as you picked it up. It all seemed like hogwash to you.

“I’m fine, father,” you replied with a smile, though you still had to work up some kind of story to explain your illness. “It’s just… headaches.” That seemed to concern him more, though you were sure any description of symptoms would cause him worry. “It’s nothing serious. It’s probably just… foul air, or something of that sort. Nothing to worry about.”

You startled for a moment when a loud chuff from the tiger (yes, the tiger) at your father’s feet reverberated through you. “Oh!” you breathed, your hand holding your heart as you calmed. “Shiva… Father, may I feed her the rest of my pheasant? I’m full.”

The king seemed distracted now, his eyes roaming aimlessly towards the roaring fire of the hearth. “What? Oh, yes…” He pursed his lips to make a kissing sound at the cat, to which the great animal stood on its four feet. Her warm amber colored eyes followed his hand, which pointed towards you as you held out the game for the tiger.

“Come here, my pet,” you cooed, having become quite accustomed to the exotic animal in your home. Ezekiel was never a conventional king, after all, and he took great care of Shiva, so why not keep her in the house? She was a beautiful creature, slyly slinking across the great hall with her prize after receiving a gentle pat between her ears from you.

And now, you raised your eyes to look concerned at your father, whose behavior as of late worried you. “Now, won’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” Not only were you fretting for him, but it took the weight of your deception off your shoulders for a moment as you shifted the conversation to him. “You’ve been acting stranger than me. Is it…” The Saviors, you wanted to say, but you had to be careful, as the king must not know that you’d heard about the attacks, and that you’d known all this time that his trips were to meet with neighboring kingdoms to discuss what to do about the infamous Sir Negan and his band of violent plunderers.

And, of course, there was the issue of… what you’d heard the man had wanted. You hadn’t heard word of this threat in months, not since you eavesdropped on your father’s conversation with the constable, but it hadn’t left your mind since. In fact, the only times you could forget about it were the times you spent close to Sir Daryl, who seemed to whisk you away on a new adventure each time you climbed on the back of his horse, holding tight to his waist and feeling the warmth of his broad back as you rested your chin happily upon his shoulder. His warm, earthy scent had lingered, too, as well as the feeling of his strong, brawny frame barely fitting in your arms’ grasp.

Oh, yes. Father. “What is troubling you, father?”

In his heart, he knew you deserved to know, but he’d been dreading it until the last possible second, until he knew for sure whether or not the threat was completely legitimate, and not just some dramatic ramblings of a negligible ne’er-do-well. Now, though, it seemed that the threat of Sir Negan and the Saviors was very real, and very serious.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat as he straightened his back and narrowed his warm brown eyes to a dark, foreboding stare. Whatever he was about to say, you were half-certain you’d know what it would be, but that look on his face was not encouraging. Could it have been worse than what you’d already heard? Of course it could… It’s much more common for things to turn worse rather than better, you’d come to realize.

“There has been… something troubling me for quite some time, daughter. I―I was… not anticipating worrying you with the comings-and-goings in the kingdom. I always tried to keep such things off your mind, to not burden you with matters of petty crime or town gossip, but there’s…” He shifted again, a discomfort contorting his face as he tried to hold back a grimace. You’d never really seen such anger hidden behind his eyes, coming out so visibly. It made your heart race and your hand shake as you raised your goblet of cider to your lips.

“My dear,” he sighed, “there’s peril in Alexandria. I must admit, I didn’t think it was this serious, but I’m afraid I can’t deny it any longer.”

A silence followed, torturing you as you waited for him to speak again. “Just tell me,” you said. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Please don’t give me to that man.

Knowing he was now left with the consequences of delaying his vague warnings, he inhaled deeply before speaking, his voice eerily calm, though you knew such a tone hid a terrible anxiety.

“For the past four months,” he began, “the constable has been dealing with some… unsavory characters. They’re not from our kingdom, in fact, we do not know where they come from, other than a that it is a fortress known only as the Sanctuary… It’s a group of thugs. Racketeers, extortionists, thieves, whatever you want to call them. They’re led by a knight who calls himself Sir Negan.” At this point, he let out a heavy, deep huff. Even the mention of the man’s name seemed to disturb him. It certainly disturbed you, your body shivering as you inched closer and closer to the reveal of whatever terror was troubling the usually jovial king, and whatever news you were to receive regarding Sir Negan and his… desires.

“Sir Negan,” he continued, “he’s a very bad man… I won’t go into the details in front of you, because it’s surely nothing a lady needs to hear, but there is something you need to know.”

No, please… Please, father.

In any other situation, the feeling of his warm hand cupping yours would’ve been welcome, but now, it only seemed like an attempt to reduce the blow of whatever terrible news you were about to receive. You felt as though your blood was rushing to your head, coagulating around the top. You blinked hard and sucked in strained, short breaths.

To make matters worse, he drew out the heavy, unbearable silence of anticipation until the last possible second before he spoke again, finally relieving you of your anxiety, though you only felt like fainting when the words were fully processed by your dizzied mind.

“He demands your hand in marriage.”

Pulling your hand away shakily you palmed your forehead, as if such a movement could possibly put an end to the incessant pounding.

Though you knew this was coming, and you’d tried to prepare yourself to hear it for the past four months, you’d hoped that the knight would’ve been defeated, or he would’ve called off his threats when Alexandria’s militia cracked down on his men’s crime sprees, but no, this was not the case, and now you had to face the fact that this wasn’t just some idle threat or empty effort at intimidation, it was real, and it was getting closer.

The king uttered your name a few times, but it was a blurred sound. Only when you blinked yourself back to reality did you process his words. “My dear…” He seemed near speechless, too, but his voice pulled through. “He’s left us numerous… messages, all of which threaten to seize the throne of Alexandria by force, unless I give you to him.”

But you wouldn’t, you thought. Please, father. You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t.

This time, both of his hands reached out to form a cradle around yours. No longer was it a foreboding presence, but a comforting one. You raised your wet eyes to look at him, a small smile forming. How could he smile at a time like this?

He squeezed your hands, then spoke in an almost dulcet, sentimental tone. “But I’d let this castle burn to embers before I would ever let a man like that take you away.”

Thank God!

“Oh, father,” you sighed in relief, though it was a short-lived comfort. The thought of your kingdom that you loved so much burning to the ground, or being ransacked and sieged by such scoundrels… It filled you with a rage and a fear and a sadness beyond anything you’d felt before. You didn’t know you could feel so hot, but your anger was prickling at your skin like the wild flames of a raging fire. “But… we cannot let them kill our people, take our kingdom. Can’t the constable form a battalion to fight them? This… sanctuary… If you know where it is, you could send a cavalry of your best knights to wipe them out, couldn’t you?”

“That’s the problem—we have no way of knowing where the Sanctuary is. We’ve tried capturing a Savior, interrogating him, but he was so loyal to Negan, even said he was Negan. They all say that—‘I’m Negan. We’re all Negan.’ All we know of Negan, besides his rather bold demands, is that he wields a spiked mace and wears black plate armor. Besides that, we know from neighboring kingdoms that they, too, have been weakened by the Saviors, and it appears that, if we tried to form a coalition against them, our combined defenses would not be enough to hold against them. Their numbers are great, and it’s only a matter of time before they stir up more trouble, which is why I’ve decided that you are to be accompanied from now on by a personal bodyguard, just in case.”

You perked up at that, back straightened and eyes staring wide at your father, not so much in shock, but in excitement, because you immediately had a particular knight in mind.

“Of course, we’ll still be trying to get whatever information we can, following leads to see where this Sanctuary is, but first and foremost, I want my daughter to be safe, no matter what. Day and night. Always under the supervision of a bodyguard.”

Oh, please, father… Let me choose him.

“Yes, father,” you replied with a nod, and a sweet smile, as you prepared yourself to beg on your knees to choose. Of course Sir Daryl would have to be your bodyguard, no question. You trusted him more than any of the king’s guards, and you were sure that every other knight in Alexandria paled in comparison to the gallantry of Sir Daryl of House Dixon. And besides, you felt safe with him. “Pray, who will you assign to be my bodyguard? Or will I be able to choose?”

The king raised a wiry gray eyebrow. “Oh… Well, I was thinking of assigning one of my guards, but is there someone in particular you had in mind?”

Trying not to appear too eager, you shrugged your shoulders as you picked up your fork to play with the leftover cold turnips on your plate. If you weren’t trying to remain nonchalant, you would’ve screamed his name to the heavens—Sir Daryl!

“I’d like to think about it,” you said. “I will let you know soon. I’m rather spent. I think I’ll retire now.”

With an exchange of goodnights and I love you’s, you retreated to your quarters with a spring in your step, eager to next see Sir Daryl, and to ask him to be your protector, officially.

The wind stirred up a flurry of leaves in the distance, while a dark cluster of clouds began to converge above you. A single, featherlight droplet landed upon your cheek, but you only smiled up at the gray sky above you. It was good to feel the rain. Back at the keep, your father would never allow you to set foot into the courtyard in this weather for fear of you catching cold, and perhaps that made the rain all the more magical for you. Its forbiddenness only perpetuated your intrigue.

When a chill wind made you visibly shiver, you were reminded of the knight’s presence as he draped his heavy wool cloak over your shoulders. “We should go back,” he said, his voice low and raspy. You’d grown so comforted by it, its scratchiness akin to the very same wool you felt tickling your fingers as you bundled yourself up.

“Just a little while longer?” you asked. After a while, you’d begun to notice Sir Daryl was more accommodating to you when widened your eyes or spoke with a particular lilt. In fact, you couldn’t recall a recent time in which the man had said no to you. “Please?”

He bent his outstretched leg with a huff, resting his elbow upon his knee as he debated for a moment, knowing full well that your saccharine pleas were going to win out in the end anyway. In fact, he didn’t want to head back, either. He wanted to stay planted in this circle of overgrown grass, surrounded by the ancient standing stones that towered over the two of you, making you both feel so small, so unimportant. Somehow, it was a welcome relief for both of you, being in this world where status and circumstance didn’t seem to matter.

Whatever fight was in him, it melted like an ice cube over an open flame when your lips curled into an effortless smile, your gaze directed at him, and only him. Just a little smile sent his way was enough to make him feel more special than any nobleman. So, he gave in, as he knew he would. He always did.

“Just a little while,” he agreed, leaning back on his forearms to stretch out his legs once again. Closing his eyes, he held his face flat up to the sprinkling cloud above, with a slight upward tilt of his pleasantly hairy chin. You followed suit, leaning back to turn on your side and admire his profile—his short, snub nose, wispy brown hairs hanging unruly over his forehead and climbing over his cheeks like overgrown ivy. Somewhere in the darkness of his mop of wavy locks, there was a sliver of pale skin poking out, identifying his ear. It was one of the many small details of him you admired, and you found yourself wanting to outstretch your finger and just trace the helix of his ear, but your shyness overcame you, as it always did whenever you thought of touching him. Lately, you’d thought of touching him in places you’d never even seen drawings of before. Actually, you almost had no idea what to expect of those places, but you imagined them nonetheless.

“Daryl?” you asked, letting your head fall into the cradle of your arm as you tried to memorize this angle of him, just for your own pleasure. He was making you so selfish, in that everything he did was becoming an indulgence for you.

“Hm?” he answered with a grunt.

In a matter of moments, you had to actually think about what you were going to say. You hadn’t thought that far ahead, you just wanted to say his name. Maybe, in your subconscious, you really wanted to ask if he’d let you hold his hand. Your innocence wouldn’t let you do much more than that, but even that was more than you should’ve done.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your breath shuddered when he turned to look at you, his eyes sleepy and soft. “Nothin’.” That was a lie. He’d been thinking about you, as he always did these days. He was thinking about all the things he was too afraid to do, and how he might’ve done them if only he could gather the strength to.

“Nothing?”

“Nothin’.”

“That’s impossible,” you laughed, using your arm to prop yourself up until you were looking down on him. His eyes followed you curiously, and yours trailed down the buttons of his charcoal colored pourpoint. The garment was tight-fitting, hugging the man’s strapping frame. When your eyes reached his belt, you ripped your gaze away, back to his face. “How can one not think? I’m always thinking.”

“Just… wasn’t thinkin’ about anythin’ in particular. What were you thinkin’ about, then, princess?”

You.

“Well, lots of things, like how it’s dangerous for us to be out here.”

“No shit,” he snickered playfully. Though you’d never really heard such language used in front of you before, you found it quite amusing when the knight cursed.

“I mean, with the Saviors… Surely you’ve heard of them.”

“Mm, heard some talk about it.”

You wished you could've been so blissfully unaware enough to say you’d only heard “some talk.” You wondered just what kind of talk he’d heard, and if he knew of Negan’s plans. Only three nights ago had the king confirmed your worst fears, and it plagued your mind more than it had since the first you heard of it. That reminded you… At some point today, you’d have to work up the courage to ask the knight to be your bodyguard. Just how on Earth were you going to do that?

“What did you hear?”

He felt the shiver in your voice, but it didn’t seem to be from the cold wind or raindrops. It came from inside you, and now, he grew a little worried, as if you knew something he didn’t. He sat up slowly, almost cautiously. “Not much, just that the constable was strengthening Alexandria’s defenses in case of an attack. Why? Did you hear something more?”

“Well… Yes. There’s more.” As you debated on whether or not to tell him of what troubled you so, you felt a tightening around your body. Daryl’s gloved hands were wrapping you more snugly in his cloak, to which you raised your head and smiled up at him. Without any words between you, he met your gaze, and offered a slight smile in return. “Thank you.”

“You seem cold…” he replied quickly, trailing off before clearing his throat. “And sad.”

Actually, you were quite warm, but it was the sadness, and the fear, inside you that made you shiver. “I’m a bit melancholy. I… do not know if I should tell you what troubles me.”

He chewed his bottom lip while his brows furrowed in concentrated thought. He had to tread this territory carefully, knowing his position. Status dictated everything, from the food one ate to the clothes on one’s back. Despite how close he felt to you now, he couldn’t risk knowing too much of what he wasn’t entitled to know. But, then again, he’d already broken almost every rule in the book, all for your sake. If he decided that he could break yet another rule, just to alleviate the sadness in your heart, he’d find a way to forgive himself.

“Princess,” he said, the reiteration of your title having become somewhat of an affectionate pet name for you, now that most verbal social niceties were extinct between you two. “I don’t wanna… stick my nose where it don’t belong, but, if I may… You should know that you can tell me anything.”

“I can?” you replied, relief lighting up your face even at the idea of finally being able to tell someone of your worries. When you recalled the contents of what you were about to tell him, the color drained from your visage.

He only could focus on a few of the keywords, but they were the ones that melded together to fill his heart with dread—Sir Negan… demanding… hand in marriage.

No, was his first thought, and it slowly morphed into a whirlwind of dizzied pleas that bounced off the walls of his head, directed towards whatever unseen force directed the universe and made his worst dream come true. For you to leave, to be taken against your will and to see the real evils of this world, that was something he hadn’t been able to quite fathom, though it plagued his mind whenever he remembered the risk of developing these feelings for you. He should’ve known all along that as soon as he allowed his inescapable tenderness for you to invade every nook and cranny of his heart, he’d have to face some kind of ache much greater than his fear of his affections going unrequited. No, this was much worse. The prospect of you getting hurt was beyond any other pain.

“But my father won’t let it happen,” you added, only slightly abating his worries. Still, he knew about men like this. They’d stop at nothing to get what they want, especially in a world where it’s just too easy to take. “But Sir Negan’s threats terrify me. I… wonder if it would be better for the kingdom, to spare so many lives, for my father to just—”

“No,” he interjected. “No, that’s not an option.”

As always, you were amused by his sudden boldness. “I do not want the kingdom to fall because of my father’s pride.”

“It’s not pride,” he replied. Never in a million years did he think he’d defend the decision of a monarch, and yet, here he was. “It’s the right thing to do. He loves you. No one should ever just give away someone they love.”

And then it hit him, his lips hanging open ever so slightly, chapped against the cold wind. Like the Red Sea, his mind diverged into two disparate voices, one that seemed to be his own, the other, some much more chivalrous caricature of himself.

First, his own voice choked out: I love you.

The farcical knight replied, Shut your mouth, you lecherous fopdoodle. No you do not.

Yes, I do.

No, you do not. Lust. Do not lust in your heart after her beauty or let her captivate you with her eyes.

If you spit another useless bible verse at me, I’ll drill a hole in my head.

And, in a matter of milliseconds, the voice left, with only Daryl’s own inner voice there to come to terms with what his feelings really meant.

I won’t let anyone have her.

With night came the usual routine—Daryl thought of some distraction to occupy the guards before he escorted you back to your chambers. This time, his cautiousness led him to latch your windows shut himself, and to leave a freshly sharpened knife upon your bedside table.

It only reminded you again of what you’d yet to ask of him.

“Daryl?” you said, halting him in his tracks just as he was about to take his leave. “May I ask something of you, if I haven’t asked too much of you already?”

Before he turned back to face you, he smiled sweetly to himself, a smile he had to hide from you, lest he seem too eager to serve you, but, oh, he was. He lived to serve you now. Not the duke, not the king, not even God—not anyone else but you.

“Yes, milady?” he replied formally. It almost threw you for a loop, the way he could swing so effortlessly between decorum and familiarity. “And don’t give me another shiny thing.”

Actually, you weren’t even sure if you had any more shiny things to give to him, since you’d given him a different piece of jewelry each time he returned you home safely. “No,” you replied with a chuckle under your breath. “It isn’t that. I actually wanted to ask… Well, my father says I must choose someone to be my personal bodyguard, and…” Swallowing hard, you shrugged your shoulders as a girlish bashfulness overcame you. Unbecoming behavior for a princess, your etiquette instructor would’ve said. “You make me feel safe.”

The voice inside his head returned for a split second, just to frantically reiterate what he’d said earlier: I love you I love you I love you I—

“And I know you’ve done so much for me already that it’s terribly ungracious of me to ask you to do such a thing, and you are under absolutely no obligation to say yes, but—”

“I’ll be your bodyguard.” Indeed, he was sure he would not be able to handle the idea of any other man protecting you in such a... thorough way.

“Oh?” You sighed as the tightness escaped from your diaphragm. “Oh, Daryl, thank you. I don’t think I could ever repay you for anything you’ve done for me.” But how you wished you could, in ways that your innocent mind couldn’t have even fully fathomed. Your heart and your body, however, knew all too well.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said bluntly. “You don’t owe anyone anything.”

But you could still give him something. Not jewelry, but something that symbolized much more than that.

The sparkle of the flame that reflected against the steel of the knife upon your bedside table attracted your attention as your mind instructed you to cross the room and take the blade in your hands. Strange, you’d never held a knife before. Well, only steak knives.

“What the hell are you doin’?” asked the knight. “I said I’d do it.”

“I am not going to kill you, sir,” you laughed, crossing back over to him with your other arm outstretched, the long, flared sleeve of your scarlet houppelande hanging most elegantly before him. “Hold my sleeve, if you please.”

The knight’s gaze turned characteristically suspicious, with narrowed eyes studying your almost mischievous face. After all, you’d never done anything like this before. “Why?”

“Just hold my sleeve… Keep it steady.”

Cautiously, he took the end of the fabric between his calloused fingers. It was soft, like everything about you. Luxurious silk of this kind was truly hard to come by, and he almost feared he’d ruin it just with one touch.

As you raised your dominant hand, the one that held the knife, he began to worry. “Careful with that thing,” he said, following the blade with his eye as you raised it to your sleeve, just below your arm. His confusion at your actions was overwhelmed by his irrational fear that you’d cut yourself.

As the long vermillion shard of your sleeve fell to the floor, he nearly let out a gasp. “Now why the hell did you do that, woman? This some kind of new fashion statement?”

“No!” you laughed, bending over to retrieve the fallen garment. With the knife now replaced on your nightstand, your delicate fingers worked to fold the piece of fabric into a triangular shape. Despite his suspicions, he didn’t dare assume he knew what you were doing, until he did. “Ahem… Sir Daryl of House Dixon, oh gallant knight, will you accept this favor, and be my champion?”

If he hadn’t been frozen in awe and confusion, he might’ve laughed at your sudden formality, but you seemed serious. “What?”

That response almost stripped you of all your shaky confidence. Almost. “Have you never accepted a lady’s favor?”

Never been given one.

“I, uh… Why?”

“Why what?” you laughed.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

You rolled your eyes, as to you it was obvious. Who else would you give a favor to? Besides, he was the only knight you knew well enough to do so.

“Because a lady always bestows her favor upon her favorite knight.”

He swore he could feel every nerve in his body twitch and tighten with every second he replayed that word in his mind. Favorite. He was sure that in all his life, he’d never been anyone’s favorite anything.

“So, will you accept?”

Words were never the knight’s strong suit. At times, he found actions to be much easier for him to communicate through, and this seemed to be one of those times.

He wasn’t sure of the official ceremony, or if there even was one, but he was already a bit weak in the knees anyway, so he decided to let himself kneel before you, hand held out to accept your favor.

Only three words persisted in his head when you delicately bestowed the red sleeve upon his palm: I love you.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

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darlingmunsons · 2 years

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Never Better

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), swearing, insecure reader? Era: Pre-Negan Alexandria Word Count: 2.2k

Request by @thisisparadisemylove: thank you for the request! hope you enjoy!

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Requests are open:)

Daryl doubled back as he passed your bedroom door almost missing your figure in the room. He leant against the door frame as he watched you stand in front of the free standing mirror, shirt pushed under your breasts and your lips in a light pout. Your hands were pinching at your hips and the swell of your stomach, intently analysing your love handles.

He watched as you turned to the side and jutted out your stomach even further before you caught his reflection in the mirror.

“I’ve gained so much weight,” you pouted at him before turning back to the mirror.

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes before moving to stand behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head

“Ya’ haven’t, just gained back the weight you lost while we were on the road,” he reassured you. He thought it was silly that you bothered so much about the way you looked, he thought, no he knew, that you were the most beautiful person anyone could ever lay eyes on.

“I have a muffin top,” you argued back, pinching your stomach as evidence, not convinced by his words, “we’ve only been here a month and I have a muffin top.”

“That’s ridiculous, ya don’t have a muffin top, an’ even if you did it don’t matter. Ya healthier now than ya were before, we all are, s’good thing.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulder from behind, pressing his chin atop your head.

“I know it’s a good thing, but that doesn’t stop my insecurities creeping back in,” your voice wavered as you struggled to meet his eye in the mirror.

“Why do you care ‘bout your weight so much?” You could hear in his voice that his question was genuine.

You shrugged, “I always have, I think most girls go through it at some point and unfortunately it sticks with some of us. Before the turn there was always so much pressure to be slim because slim meant pretty, I know it’s still silly to think like that but sometimes I can’t help it.”

“Hm,” Daryl nodded, your words giving him a better understanding, it’s not been easy to escape the old world and this has been one of the things that’s followed you.

“You’ll always be the most beautiful thing t’me, don’t matter what you weight, could double in size or shrink down to fit in my pocket, still think your the prettiest damn thing anyone could ever lay their eyes on,” Daryl was never one known to be good with his words so his confession was quick to bring a slight tear to your eyes, his words settling with you deeply, “‘sides, ya ass’ never looked better.”

He pulled back to take a quick peek at your behind, his hand giving you a playful spank. You threw your head back in a laugh, grateful he made some light of the situation, not being in the mood to talk in depth about your insecurities right now.

“Shut up,” you giggled before he spun you around, pulling you into his arms, his hands gravitating straight to your ass.

“‘M serious,” he smirked lightly, happy to have put a smile on your face, “got some major cushion goin’ on back there.”

You squealed as his hands squeezed your ass, a blush rising to your cheeks. It wasn’t often he was so playfully flirty but god you loved it when he was.

“Trust you to notice that,” you teased.

“‘M a hunter, gotta be observant,” the smirk never left his face as he picked you up, chuckling at your surprised squeal, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed.

“Hm, sure, observant. If that’s what you wanna call it,” you bounced slightly as he dropped you on your back on the bed before mumbling playfully under your breath, “perv.”

“Hey,” he protested, “ya’ never complained before.”

“Who said I was complaining,” you argued back, giggling as he leant down to kiss your neck, his facial hair tickling you, “I like it when you’re pervy, boosts my ego a little.”

He scoffed into your neck, climbing on the bed between your legs.

“In that case, happy to be of service,” he pulled back to give you a smile before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

His hands ran down your sides before moving back up, his hand sliding up your shirt as he went.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled against his lips.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’,” he said plainly, “gettin’ pervy with you,” his hand slipped up to cup your breasts as his lips made their way back to your neck.

“Are you not on shift?”

Your resolve was crumbling with each press of his lips as you pulled his hand back.

“Not for a few hours, Rosita asked for a swap so I’m takin’ her night shift, got plenty of time to do what I wanna do to you until then,” his lips hardly left your body with each word he spoke, his hips shifting between your legs, pressing harder against you causing you to gasp.

“And what is it you want to do to me?” Your voice was low, almost shaky as he continued moving his hips against yours

“How ‘bout you just let me show you?” His voice had dropped an octave as his hand moved back to your breast, smirking to himself as you shivered.

You quickly nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Your hands moved to cup his face bringing his lips back to yours, not hesitating as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, eager to speed things up and get to the best part.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt pulling back from your lips to rid you of said clothing, your bra quickly following as you mirrored his actions and started unbuttoning his shirt, his leather vest having already been removed by him himself.

“So damn beautiful,” he mumbled as his lips moved to your breast, his tongue circling your nipple before his mouth covered it completely. Shedding himself of his shirt, groaning to himself as your fingers gripped onto his bare shoulders.

You tossed your head back as he sucked, letting your hands blindly find their way to his belt, unbuckling it and popping open the button of his pants. Your hand slipping past the opening and gripping him, making him fully hard.

Daryl pulled back from your nipple, squeezing his eyes shut as he groaned deeply under his breath, “Fuck.”

He gave himself a moment to enjoy the pleasure you were giving him before moving to shift so he was sat on his knees between your thighs. His own hands now moving to pop the button on your pants, removing your shoes so he could pull down your pants and underwear. He sat for a minute, his hands on your thighs, taking in your now fully naked body.

“Ya so fucking pretty,” he growled, running a finger between your folds and dipping it a knuckle deep inside you, enjoyed your whimpers before pulling back, moving off the bed onto his feet and removing the rest of his clothes.

Your gazed ran down his body as he dropped his pants, your teeth biting into your lip as to not let any moans out as he dropped his hand to himself, rubbing himself has he knelt back between your thighs.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Dixon,” you threw back at him. He really was a sight to enjoy and boy were you going to enjoy every inch of it. He chuckled at your compliment, blush rising up his neck, not so comfortable with the attention on him so he leant back down to press his lips to yours, one hand moving to your hair as the other roamed your body. Your own hands taking their place on his back, occasionally slipping down to brush across his ass

“Want you so bad,” he groaned, his hips grinding against yours.

“You have me.”

You could see a moment of thought pass across his face before his hands tightly gripped your hips and flipped you both over, moving you to straddle him.

“I wanna see you. All of you,” he pushed you to sit upright, his eyes taking in every inch that was visible to him before they met your own, his voice practically begging you, “please.”

You nodded as you blushed, it wasn’t a position you used a lot. It was the position you felt most exposed in, that little voice in the back of your head bringing your insecurities to the forefront almost every time. That’s why he was doing this, you both knew that, he was desperate for you to get over those insecurities and understand that he found you beautiful no matter what.

“Please,” he repeated, he was desperate to see you move on top of him, desperate to get his hands on to every part of your body, desperate to see all of you as you both fell apart.

“Okay,” you whispered, who were you to say no to Daryl Dixon, especially when he was naked and begging.

Your hair fell around you as you looked down to guide him inside of you but his hands were quick to come up and push it behind your ears, wanting so badly to see your face.

Closing your eyes, your mouth drops slightly in a silent ‘o’ as he entered you. His tight grip he had on your hips probably would’ve been painful in any other situation but it just added to your pleasure.

Opening your eyes again the look on his face was enough to give you a little more confidence to start moving, his eyes were screwed shut and his nostrils were flared in deep breaths as he tried to control himself, desperate to not finish before you’d even started.

You steadied yourself for a moment, hands pressed to his chest, thighs pressed to his hips. You started off slow, gaining momentum before speeding up to a comfortable rhythm.

Daryl forced himself to open his eyes, he’d asked you to be on top so he could see you and he’d be damned if he missed it. His hand moved up from your hips to your waist, thumbs digging into the flesh of your tummy before he stroked a hand across your stomach fully, feeling your soft skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he groaned, his hands roaming any part of your body he could reach.

“I love you,” you panted, already feeling close to finishing.

“God, I love you too.”

One of Daryl's hands made its way between your thighs, your moans letting him know it's what you needed. The other hand moved around to grab at your ass, slapping the cheek his was holding before his fingers gripped into it again.

You whined before giggling at his action, leaning down to kiss him, his tongue instantly parting your lips. Your whines grew higher pitch as you neared your high, your head dropping to his neck feeling yourself losing control.

Daryl moved a hand to the side of your face, pulling you face up so he could see you.

“Lemme’ see you,” he panted, throwing his head back as you sat back up with his hands on your hips steadying you.

Sitting up was it, that’s what sent you over the edge, the shift of him inside you pressing against the perfect spot sending you into your climax. He watched as you threw your head back, enamoured by the expression on your face.

His hips started thrusting up harder, eager to reach his own climax. The pain of your blunt fingernails curling into his chest as you reeled in the aftershock was enough to send him over the edge, sitting up quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you tight as he came, growling in your neck as his hands gripped your ass.

You both slowed your thrusts against each other as you came down from your highs, daryl pressing soft kisses along your neck as you caught your breath.

You pulled back enough to press a kiss to his lips, your tongues moving together slowly, hands cupping his face as his ran across your back.

“I love you so much,” he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you more.”

“Nah, don’t even start,” he chuckled, he’d argue himself to death proving he loved you more but he didn’t have the energy right now. You laughed back, understanding the meaning behind his words.

He move to lay on his back, brining you with him as he shifted you to his side, head pressed on his chest and his hand stroking your back. The two of you taking a moment to bask in the afterglow.

Your hand traced invisible shapes on his chest, your head looked up, pressing a kiss to his chin, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He looked down confused.

“Just for always loving me, no matter what.”

“Nothin’s ever gonna stop that, y’know that right?” His hand moving to stroke your hair.

“I know,” you nodded, “me too.” Moving up his body for a moment to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Daryl was lost in his thoughts, thinking about how lucky he was to have you in his live as you lay together, enjoying the rare time you had to just yourselves, the pensive look on his face making you break the silence.

“You good?”

He smiled down at you, kissing your head before he spoke.

“Never better.”

Thank you for reading!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #twd daryl #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead smut

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woman-of-balnain · 1 year

Text

Undone in Sorrow Part 1/10 (Alpha Rick x Omega Reader)

Previous Work | Collection Masterlist | AO3 Ver. | Next Part

Pairing: Rick Grimes/Fem!Reader

Summary: Finally coming face to face with Negan threatens the ties that bind your relationship with Rick together. After that first meeting, the two of you try to pick up the broken pieces of one another and become whole again.

Please note that while this story is completed, I’m really unhappy with how the last half of it turned out. I’m planning to completely rewrite it, so if you do decide to read this, just know that it’s not my best work (by a long shot) 🫣

A/N: This is a sequel to my other story ‘the Claim’ and probably won’t make much sense if you haven’t read that.

This chapter is mainly just setting up the story and involves events from 6x15 and most of 6x16. I’m not interested in just writing out the show though, so it jumps around a fair bit through the events of those episodes, focusing on the Reader’s role during those events.

The a/b/o dynamics are a little more in the background in this chapter but they will come into play more in the next chapters.

The Reader is Hershel's eldest daughter, but you can also read it as you being his daughter through adoption or having a different mother to both Maggie and Beth. Basically meaning that you can read this with any physical description in mind. But the Reader is considered as 100% his daughter and the sister of Maggie and Beth in all the ways that matter.

Reader is also more of a typical omega, especially since she isn’t on any suppressants. When comparing her with both of her sisters, I see her more like Beth than Maggie. Someone who has learned to fight to protect themselves but isn’t a hardened fighter like some of the other characters around her.

Lastly, I’m going to see how well this is received. I have it plotted out and everything but I’m so used to writing more smutty stuff while this story is more angst + hurt/comfort. So any feedback would be really helpful to let me know if I’m doing okay with this and if I should continue.

Warnings: Protective Rick, angst, a little bit of arguing between Rick/Reader, age gap (Rick is 13 years older than you), you are 26 and Rick is 39, A/B/O dynamics, you have suspicions that you are pregnant, mentions of past miscarriage/stillbirth

Word Count: 4,666

Dividers by: @newlips + @cafekitsune

Turn if you may, from battles never done, I call, as they go by me one by one, Danger no refuge holds, and war no peace, For him who hears love sing and never cease

The sun was filtering through the window of your bedroom, bathing you in warm light when you stirred awake. The reality of Alexandria was still surreal to you, even though it had been around two months since you all arrived and were finally able to settle into somewhere that could truly be a home again.

Slowly, you had all gotten used to it and let your guards down, but part of it still felt too good to be true. At least to you.

Turning in the soft sheets of your bed, you came face to face with Rick, who had been pressed up against you in his sleep. His features were relaxed, no sign of tension or the burdens that were often placed upon him. You couldn’t help but reach out and let your fingertips run across his short beard, taking in the light grey that was spread throughout and which moved up to the hair around his temples.

You loved every single thing about him, but his coarse facial hair always reminded you of the intimate moments you shared. It always tickled against your skin, leaving echoes of his affection long after his touch was gone.

Your ministrations caused his eyes to flutter open and then his lips curved up into a smile when the fog of sleep left him and he took in the sight of you. Returning his smile with a sweet one of your own, you leaned forward to give him a quick kiss and savored the way his arms seemed to automatically wrap around you.

“Morning, handsome,” you said, bringing your fingers up to move through his hair.

“Mmm,” he stifled a yawn before affectionately brushing his nose against yours. “Morning, sweetheart.”

Days like these were ones that you cherished. When neither of you were in a hurry to be anywhere and you could wake up slowly, enjoying each other’s company before you got up and faced reality. Peering over Rick’s shoulder, you saw through the baby monitor that Judith was still sound asleep.

Your movement allowed him to bury his face in your neck, his lips automatically finding the mating bite he’d given you and pressing soft kisses to it. You sighed happily, laying back down onto the bed and Rick followed your movements, bringing his mouth back to yours.

His lips moved languidly against your own, soft and sensual as his hands explored along your lower stomach, fingertips teasing your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and just enjoying the fact that you were together. That you were both safe – that your family was safe.

“I love you,” was whispered from your lips as they only just left his own.

“I love you too,” he responded immediately, pulling back to look into your eyes.

His touch left your stomach, and he cupped your face in his hands, his brow furrowing as he saw some uneasiness in your gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just Maggie,” you admitted.

“You’re thinking about your sister right now?” He quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on,” you laughed softly at his teasing before you turned serious again. “After what those Saviors did that to her and Carol… I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“Baby, it’s over,” his gaze softened, and his fingers began to stroke your cheeks. “You don’t have to worry about it anymore. They’re all gone, we took care of it. Hilltop came through and things are gonna get better.”

“Yeah, it’s just… there’s always something that comes after, you know?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, his tone confident and steadfast. “This is our home now and we’re always gonna fight for it. It doesn’t matter what comes next because this is all ours. No one’s gonna take it from us. I promise.”

You nodded, knowing that Rick had always come through. No matter what had been thrown your way, even with losing people, he always won the fight in the end.

“I know. I believe in you, Rick, I know that you’ll do everything you can to protect this place. I’m just… still getting used to the fact that Alexandria is real. It still feels too good to be true.”

“Hey, it’s okay to just enjoy it, you know? After everything we’ve been through, we deserve this. It’s not going anywhere, and neither are we.”

You looked up at him with admiration, knowing that he was right and that he would never stop fighting for a chance, no matter how dark and messed up the world had gotten and could still become.

“Thank you, Rick,” you said softly, before noting the slight confusion that crossed his features. “For always fighting to keep us all safe.”

“You don’t ever have to thank me for that, sweetheart,” he smiled down at you affectionately. “It’s my job.”

You grinned back at him, feeling a little more at ease. And then Rick bent his head down, bringing your lips into another kiss and you let the rest of your trepidation fade away.

You found Maggie sitting at the kitchen table when you stopped by her house later that day. After Enid explained that she’d taken over your younger sister’s shift, you had wanted to check up on her. After her encounter with that group of Saviors and especially now with Carol gone, you were still worried about how she was doing.

You gave a couple of light knocks to the door before letting yourself inside, eyeing her with concern.

“Hey,” she greeted you, looking up with a small smile.

“How’re you doing?” You asked, moving over to the table.

“I’m fine,” she brushed away your concern, looking back down at the book she’d been reading.

“Carol’s gone,” you told her, causing Maggie to look back at you with surprise. “Left in the middle of the night. So, you can’t blame me for being worried.”

“Did anyone go after her?”

“Yeah. Rick left a little while ago. But Maggie… look, you don’t have to talk about it, but I’m still gonna worry. You’re pregnant and I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t… we’ve lost too many people already.”

Maggie regarded you softly, understanding the meaning behind your words all too well. Of all the people in your lives before the fall, now it was only the two of you left. And the pain of losing your father and then your baby sister… that was all still raw and fresh for both of you.

But then she frowned, a slight look of judgement crossing her features and you looked away. You knew what had likely entered her mind, but hoped you were wrong. You didn’t want to discuss it right now. You just wanted to focus on Maggie and if she was okay.

“And what about you?” She asked, confirming your fears that she was going to make you talk about it. “Have you told Rick yet?”

“No…” You admitted.

“Y/N,” she sighed. “He deserves to know.”

She was right, you knew that. But that didn’t stop the trepidation you felt about having that particular conversation with your alpha. Things that had happened in the past left you doubting how he might handle the news that you suspected you were also pregnant.

If you were, then you were likely only about as far along as your sister. It wasn’t obvious, and you weren’t showing, so Rick had no idea about your suspicions.

“I know that Maggie,” you answered her. “I just… I don’t want to get his hopes up again. Not after last time. Not until I know for sure.”

She gave you a sympathetic look, knowing what you were referring to. Back in the prison, you’d been pregnant before. But once the flu went around, you’d gotten extremely sick and gone into premature labor at only 6 months along. Despite your father, Hershel, doing everything he could to help, the baby had come out stillborn.

Rick had been out, dealing with Carol and when he got back it was already over. It had left both of you distraught, but you knew Rick also felt guilt over not being there. So, you didn’t want to tell him yet, not until you knew for sure.

“Y/N,” Maggie leaned over the table, taking your hands in hers. “I understand, but with everything that’s been going on... we don’t have the luxury of guarantees anymore. We don’t know what’ll happen today, or tomorrow. You should just tell him, because if something happens, you don’t want to be left with that kind of regret.”

You could see the logic in her words, but your conversation with Rick earlier than morning was still fresh in your mind.

“I see what you’re saying, but this is Rick we’re talking about. Everything we’ve been through, it’s him that got us out of it. Nothing’s going to happen, Maggie. I’ll tell him when I’m ready. Now that the Saviors are gone, I’ll organize to go see Dr. Carson. If he confirms it, then I’ll tell Rick.”

“Okay,” she relented, pulling back with another sigh. “Just don’t wait too long. You know better than anyone that he would want to know.”

Your only answer was to give a short nod, knowing that she was right. But ultimately, it was between you and Rick, so you quickly changed the topic, asking where Glenn was.

It wasn’t long before you regretted your words to Maggie, how you had been so certain that nothing was going to happen. She was right – she usually was. In this new world there were no guarantees, and something was always going on. Usually something bad rather than good.

You had panicked when she fell to the floor in severe pain, right after Enid had stopped by and cut her hair. After a moment though, you had sprung into action and told Enid to get help. She had returned with Rick who had apparently only just arrived back in Alexandria a little while ago. He had quickly taken control of the situation.

Now, you were in the RV, right by Maggie’s side and trying to comfort her, even as anxiety pulsed through you from the way she looked. Your little sister was feverish and groaning from the pain in her abdomen.

The worst part was how none of you knew what exactly was wrong. You only knew that it was something to do with the baby and that you’d never seen your sister looking so ill.

“Y/N.”

You turned, seeing Rick in the doorway. You caught the tell-tale signs that betrayed his worry, but they were subtle, and to most he would have seemed like his calm and confident self. He gestured with his head that he wanted to talk to you, so you got up and followed him outside of the RV.

“We’re heading out now,” he said lowly, his head dipping a little so that he was looking you right in the eye. “She’ll be okay, I’ll make sure she is.”

“I know that…” you replied, a little confused.

When you didn’t make any move to leave or say goodbye, Rick frowned.

“You’re not coming,” he said sternly, attempting to leave no room for argument.

“Yes, I am,” you retorted, getting frustrated. “I’m not leaving Maggie on her own.”

“She won’t be alone, she has all of us. Y/N, you need to stay here.”

“Rick, I know you’re going to do everything you can to get her to Hilltop safely, but she’s my sister. Glenn isn’t here, I need to be with her.”

“And I need you safe,” he countered, moving to take your hands in his. “I… need you to stay and take care of Judith.”

You knew that despite the love you both held for your adopted daughter, he was just using that as an excuse.

“There’s other people to look after Judith. She’ll be fine here because here is safe. Besides, you already took care of the Saviors. I know you don’t like it, and that you’re just worried, but I can’t stay here and wonder if Maggie’s okay. I need to be there for her. After dad, after Beth… I can’t just sit around waiting and wondering. Please, Rick.”

He sighed, letting go of you and running a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he gave in. “But you stay with Maggie. If we run into trouble, you say out of sight. And you do everything that I tell you to. Everything, Y/N.”

“I will,” you agreed.

“Okay,” he nodded, his features softening a little. “Sorry, I just… never mind.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later. We need to get moving.”

You could tell that there was something weighing on him. Something new, that hadn’t been there in the morning before he left to look for Carol. But Rick was right, you needed to get Maggie to Dr. Carson and if he said it could wait, then you trusted that it wasn’t anything too important.

You quickly worked out why Rick was so reluctant to let you come, as the RV was blocked at every turn. The confidence he held when you all set out began to slip away, replaced with anxiety. But there was no time in the chaos of it all to confront him about the fact that the Saviors had actually not been taken care of and that there were still plenty more out there.

The attack on the satellite outpost hadn’t finished anything at all. Instead, it had started something and all of the signs pointing to the Saviors having a lot of people and a lot resources set you on edge.

“She’ll be okay,” Carl said from behind you.

You turned around, seeing the boy who had grown exponentially since the first time you met him. Back then, when he was brought to the farm, shot and bleeding out, you hadn’t known if he’d make it. Now there was hardly any trace of that boy left, with Carl becoming hardened from the world around him and all of the things he’d experienced.

You looked back to Maggie, taking in the way she was burning up and how Rick tried to soothe and reassure her.

“We don’t know that,” you replied to Carl, worried by the way her condition had worsened.

“My dad will get us there,” Carl insisted. “You know that. Once she’s at Hilltop and sees the doctor, she’ll be fine.”

“Carl…”

You turned back to face him, unsure if you should say what was on your mind. Carl usually had a steadfast faith in Rick, and you didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, but you could clearly see and sense the panic building up in your alpha.

“What is it?” The boy who was practically your son asked. “What’s wrong?”

He knew you well enough by now to pick up on when you were worried over something.

“Just… look at him. He’s getting anxious and so am I. If we don’t get there soon, what will happen to Maggie? It doesn’t seem to matter what route we take, it’s like they’re always five steps ahead of us.”

“Y/N,” Carl said, his tone serious and his resolve unwavering. “We’ve been through hell before and every time, we’ve gotten out of it. Stop worrying, it’ll be fine.”

You just nodded, not missing the way his confidence showed how much he’d matured over the years. But you also wondered how he wasn’t picking up on Rick’s scent, which betrayed his inner turmoil to you. Maybe it wasn’t as strong to the others. Or maybe it had something to do with the mating bond you shared.

There were other signs though; the sweat covering his skin and how it made some of his curls stick to his forehead, the frantic look in his eyes, the way he’d started breathing a little heavier… He was starting to feel trapped in a corner and if it weren’t for Maggie, you knew he would’ve been fighting back by now. But they’d caught him in a weak moment, when he had to control his emotions in order to keep other people safe. And you knew that it was starting to get at him and leave him feeling helpless.

It felt like days had passed, rather than just hours. The entire group that was in the RV was on edge – except maybe Carl, who had a strange, stoic calmness throughout the whole thing. But now, night had fallen and after Eugene’s suggestion, the group had decided to split up.

You stood outside the RV, silently watching as the others prepared to leave. After Rick spoke with Eugene, he caught your eye and made his way over to you. Your stomach churned with apprehension, picking up on how high strung he was.

It was strange because you’d never really experienced anything like it. Even before you’d claimed one another, there had been that undeniable pull and connection between the two of you. But you’d never been so attuned to his emotions before, and it was almost like his were mixing and intertwining with your own, confusing you about what it was you were feeling and what was coming from him.

But you had made a decision and despite how uneasy he was, you were resolved to go through with it.

“I’m going with Eugene,” you told him gently, not wanting to argue about it.

Rick’s features twisted, his expression becoming even more desperate. He shook his head and looked at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“Baby, please,” he implored you, speaking softly in order to try and keep your conversation private. “It’s bad enough that you’re out here and not at home. We’re not splitting up.”

He wasn’t angry or frustrated or trying to assert his authority over you. Instead, he just looked desperate, and it broke your heart. You often saw a different side of him in private, compared to the others, but that didn’t make his obvious distress over the situation any easier to absorb. But you knew that you would be more useful with Eugene than on foot with the others.

“I’m not a fighter… you know that Rick,” you tried to reason with him. “If this is how I can help Maggie, then that’s what I’m going to do. We’ll be okay, they’re just trying to stop us from getting to Hilltop. I know you’ll get her there safely. I trust you to do that, so trust me to do this.”

“We don’t know what they’re trying to do,” he argued. “You going with Eugene could be just as dangerous!”

“Rick, we don’t have time to fight about this. Please, just get my sister to the doctor and let me do my part to help. Something I know I can do to help her.”

“You said you’d do what I told you to,” he pointed out. “When I let you come with us. So why are you fighting me on this?”

“Because I’ll just be in the way if I come with you.”

He sighed, before moving towards you. Then he was resting his forehead against your own as his hands came to hold your hips. You felt the way his resolve washed away and knew that he was done fighting you on the matter.

“Baby, just promise me you’ll be safe,” he relented, knowing they had to leave quickly.

“I’ll do everything I can to try,” was the best answer you could give him.

He nodded before titling his head to kiss you. It was brief, but it still conveyed so many emotions. He was desperate and panicked, unsure of what might happen in the near future. But you were all determined to try, knowing that Maggie was in danger and needed medical attention as soon as possible.

Rick’s scent wrapped around you, seeping through until you felt his trepidation, his fear and his doubts like they were your own feelings. But when he pulled his lips away from yours, he put his walls back up and headed over to the others, preparing to carry Maggie through the woods to safety.

Abraham and Eugene exchanged a nod while Rick gave you one last lingering look. You smiled back at him, hoping it would give him reassurance, but deep down you knew that it likely wouldn’t. If the way his own inner emotions had been so obvious to you were any indication, then your own were probably just as clear to him.

“Come on,” you said to Eugene, turning away from the man you loved. “We should get going too.”

He just nodded, following you back into the RV.

Rick’s heart was pounding like a drum in his chest as the floodlights suddenly turned on, temporarily blinding him and the others. The trademark whistling of the Saviors resounded around them, too loud and too high-pitched, ringing through his ears. Time seemed to move slowly around him, as his mind struggled to catch up and comprehend what was happening.

His small group turned and looked through the clearing, taking in the sight of countless Saviors, who were completely trapping them in the area. Very briefly, he was glad that you’d convinced him to let you stay with Eugene. Because it was bad enough that Carl was with him in that moment. If you were there, the very final threads of his sanity would have likely snapped.

Carl could take care of himself. But you? You were an omega, the very definition of someone who needs to be protected and as your alpha, that was his job. He knew that he should have tried harder to talk you out of coming on the trip, back in Alexandria. After realizing that there were more Saviors out there when he was with Morgan, looking for Carol. He’d almost told you, but the urgency of the situation had prevented him from doing so.

And now, they were surrounded with no way out. The sense of hopelessness that had gradually been building up inside of him as the RV was blocked at every turn now boiled over. He was failing Maggie, his own sister-in-law, during the time she when needed him and his leadership the most. She had said she trusted him, believed in him and he’d let her down. He’d let them all down.

The future had never been so uncertain, but if he knew one thing, it was that it sure as hell didn’t look good. Rick realized that he was shaking, as the shock set in. His wide and frantic eyes swept over the area and then he froze.

“No…” he breathed out so quietly it was barely audible.

There was Eugene, kneeling down with the RV parked neatly in the background. The knowledge that their plan had failed, that Eugene had been captured with his face bloody and beaten… that was already enough to break Rick down even further.

But you weren’t there. You were nowhere to be found and he had never felt so scared and helpless.

“Good, you made it. Welcome to where you’re goin’.”

And suddenly, time seemed to move back at its normal pace as that asshole from earlier, the first one they’d encountered, was talking to him again. Rick’s body seemed like it was broken in half, where he took in what was happening around him, but he was also distracted as his mind screamed out one persistent thought over and over again.

Where the hell were you?

He let himself hope that you’d gotten away somehow. That you were safe, and the lack of your presence didn’t suggest something ominous.

Before he knew it, their guns had been taken and they’d been forced to set the stretcher down. Maggie hadn’t been given any special treatment, forced to kneel just like the rest of them had been ordered to. Then he was looking at Eugene again, who had been dragged over to join the rest of the group.

“Y/N?” He croaked out, just hoping for some kind of answer.

But Eugene never got the chance before the asshole who seemed to be in charge was in his face again, insisting that he get down on his knees. Every part of Rick was telling him to fight back, and he looked around again briefly before he begrudgingly complied. He knew that he had to stay calm in order to keep the others safe. In that moment, he knew that they were powerless. There was nothing he could do.

So, he slowly got down on his knees, trying to ignore the look Maggie gave him. He wasn’t sure if it was just from the pain she was experiencing or if it was because she couldn’t believe he wasn’t doing more to resist.

He couldn’t do anything but watch as Michonne, Glenn, Daryl and Rosita were pulled out from the back of a van and forced to join them. He could only sit there, drenched in sweat and apprehension, his breath coming out in heavy pants as his body continued to shake against his will. He looked around him with wild eyes, still unable to fully comprehend that it all was really, truly happening.

And then the mustached asshole was talking to them again as he made his way over to the RV, which now sat in front of them.

“All right, we got a full boat. Let’s meet the man.”

Negan.

Rick realized that all of this, every single thing that had transpired that day had led to this moment. This had all been Negan – the real Negan – introducing himself to them.

The asshole knocked against the RV and there was a brief pause where silence fell around them. But then the door swung open and a tall man in a leather jacket came into view, grinning smugly at them as he rested a baseball bat with barbed wire around it against his shoulder. Rick instantly recognized that he was an alpha, the other man’s strong and stifling scent reaching him even with the distance between them.

“Pissin’ our pants yet?” He asked, remaining in the doorway. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re gettin’ close.”

He watched them all for a moment, taking it all in with a sick sense of satisfaction. Then, the man, the one who was clearly Negan, turned to look back into the RV.

“Come on out darlin’,” he said, with his lips in a permanent smirk. “Let’s get you all reunited.”

Rick barely had time to register his relief at seeing you alive, as Negan dragged you out of the RV, holding on tightly to your hair. Because even though you were alive, he wanted you to be anywhere but there, while he was helpless to do anything to protect you.

As Negan forced your head up so that you were looking at the others, Rick’s inner alpha reared its ugly head, causing Rick to become both furious and distressed. Your face was bleeding and bruised; you looked like you’d been crying and your features were scrunched up in pain at the vice like grip Negan had on your head.

Rick’s fists clenched and the way his body was shaking became even worse. Every instinct within him was saying that he needed to ensure your safety and kill anyone standing in his way, but he had to keep himself in check. It was a torturous struggle raging inside of him, battling between the urge to protect and the need to survive – for all of you to survive.

“No,” he found his voice cracking, the word escaping his lips before he knew it. “No, no, no…”

He looked at you with despair over the situation you’d all found yourselves in. Tears welled in his eyes as he realized there was nothing he could do. He had found himself helpless at the hands of Negan, which was exactly how the other alpha wanted him.

“Oh…” Negan let out a sadistic chuckle, his gaze falling right on Rick. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Next Part

#rick grimes x reader #alpha!rick grimes x omega!reader #rick grimes x f!reader #rick grimes/reader #alpha rick grimes #omega reader #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes angst #twd fanfic #rick grimes/you #rick grimes x you #female reader

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 years

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Words: 4,311 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, Post-Negan (roughly S9) Warnings: mentions of injury, gore, allusions to past trauma (no details, no specifics), MAJOR FLUFF ALERT, UNCLE DARYL WARNING Summary: Y/N knows the perfect way to distract Judith when she can’t sleep—telling fanciful stories about how she got all her scars. Eventually, word gets back to Daryl. A/N: Jude scolding grown ass Daryl is everything I needed today

Your name: submit What is this?

“Auntie.”

It was just a gentle whisper, but it sent you rocketing up in bed, your heart pounding hard. “Jude? Are you okay?”

Judith is standing at the side of your bed in her pajamas. “I can’t sleep,” she says matter-of-factly. “I miss mom and dad.”

You toss the covers away to expose the empty space beside you. “Is RJ sleeping?” you ask as she climbs into your bed. She nestles up against you immediately, facing in toward your body, her little hands reaching out for you. She nods.

“He never seems to have trouble sleeping,” she whispers. You can feel her warm breath against your neck. You smile and cover her over with the blanket.

“He’s little,” she says. “It’s easier to sleep when you’re little.” You can feel her fingers tracing the scooped neck of your tank-top.

“You’re right about that,” you agreed. “Less to worry about.”

“I worry about a lot of things,” Judith said. Her fingers moved to your shoulder and then traveled down your upper arm, following a long thin scar there.

“Do you want to talk about them?” you asked her.

She paused thoughtfully, her little fingertips still for a moment, before she shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” you said, hugging her more tightly. “That’s okay.”

“Will you tell me again how you got this one?” Judith said, a smile already forming on her face. Her big dark eyes shown out in the dim light of your room and you smiled back. She traced the length of the long, thin scar again.

“Alright,” you said. “I was in a bar in a town out west. It was that kind of town that still had the old store shops and tumbleweeds and dust blowing down the main street. Everything just had some mysterious feeling about it. There was an old man at the end of the bar when I stopped in to get a Coke—”

“A Coke?” she repeated skeptically. “I’ve seen you drink beer before! I’m not five.”

You gave her a pointed look, smirking a little. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Okay, okay,” she giggled.

“So. I ordered my Coke. And since the old man looked lonely, I sat down right next to him. We got to talking. He could tell I wasn’t from there of course. It was a small town, one of the ones where you either are related to everybody or go to the same church or something. He asked me why I was there. I told him I was just passing through. I guess for some reason he trusted me, because when I stood up to leave, he slipped a folded, wrinkled piece of paper into my hand and gave me a wink.”

“What was it?” Judith asked eagerly, enthralled by your storytelling.

“I’ll tell you what it was. It was a real, honest to God treasure map.” Judith’s eyes went round and bright. “Mhm. And X marks the spot.”

“There was an X?”

“There was,” you continued. “Only problem was that it was in the middle of a lake.”

“What’d you do? What did you think was there?”

“I didn’t know, but I had to find out. So, I rented a boat. And I rented a wet suit and some SCUBA gear—” Here, Judith interrupted you with a giggle. “What’s so funny?” you asked her, trying to hide a grin.

“You don’t know how to SCUBA dive!” she said, laughing again.

You tickled her ribs. “How do you know?!” You tried to look offended. “Anyway! I got to the lake and I dropped anchor as close to the exact center as I could. I dove into the water and swam down, down, down, so deep there was hardly any light reaching me anymore. And that’s when I saw it—” you affected a mysterious whisper, “—a hulking mass taking shape as some looming darker shadow in front of me, draped with algae and layers of silt. A shipwreck.”

“Ooh!” Judith exclaimed.

You grinned. “I knew the treasure had to be inside. I swam around the ship until I found an open spot where the hull had rusted away and I slipped in. I explored until I found it—a great metal chest sitting in a small back room.”

“Open it!” she whispered excitedly.

“I grabbed the heavy lid and used all my strength to heave it open! The lid sprung wide and I pointed my flashlight inside and—” you paused dramatically.

“And?!”

“Empty,” you said.

“What?! Noooo!”

“It was entirely empty. Someone else must have found it first. Except—there was one lone coin… of heavy metal, maybe copper, in the very bottom. I grabbed it and turned it over in my hand, brushing away the muck from the detail of the carven face. It was right then when I realized I was getting dangerously low on air.”

“Oh no!”

“I had to hurry if I wanted to make it to the surface safely. I swam as fast I could, but I got disoriented in the dark and had to squeeze through a much smaller opening to get clear of the ship. A jagged piece of metal snagged into my suit and cut down my arm as I rushed out, but I made it. I surfaced and pulled myself back into my boat in a heap, the coin still in my hand…”

Judith grinned at you.

“And that’s how I got this scar,” you said, indicating the one she’d run her finger down.

She traced it again. “Last time you said you got it from training a unicorn. And the time before that it was when you pulled a bank heist,” she said.

“Really? I thought this one was from the bank heist…” you said thoughtfully, touching another scar near your collarbone. “Hmm. That’s strange,” you said, smiling at her with a knowing look. She smiled back. Her eyelids were heavy now.

“Thanks for the story,” she said, yawning.

“Anytime, bug. Are you ready to sleep now?” She nodded, and you tugged her in against you more tightly. The two of you drifted off peacefully and didn’t wake until the morning poured warm light through the curtains.

_ _ _ _ _ _

A few days later

The door to the clinic burst open and Daryl looked up to see Judith coming in with a stern expression on her face.

Daryl sighed heavily and nodded to Rosita who was patching him up. He was sitting bare-chested on a table with a cascade of blood running down one arm. “I think I got it from here,” he drawled to her.

She set down more clean bandages and supplies and Daryl immediately grabbed some gauze and pressed it to his arm. “Are you sure?” she asked, shooting a semi-amused look at Judith, who had now made her way over to stand in front of Daryl with her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, ‘m good. Thanks,” he drawled.

“Alright,” Rosita said, standing up. She touched Judith on the shoulder and shot her a smile as she paused. “You’re coming to us with RJ for dinner tonight, right?” she asked Judith. The little girl was still staring straight at Daryl with a very severe expression.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, not taking her eyes off her uncle. “It looks like I might be on babysitting duty.” Daryl rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.

Rosita let out an appreciative laugh and shot another look back at Daryl, her eyebrows raised. “Good luck,” she said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Daryl drawled, reaching for the bottle of alcohol. He poured some onto a spare bit of clean cloth and began mopping at his arm. He hazarded a glance back at Judith. “Ya wanna say somethin’?” he asked her, a half-smile quirking one corner of his mouth up.

She shook her head and stared him down. “What have you done to yourself this time?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

Daryl let out another gruff laugh. “My bike got laid down, alrigh’? I ain’t goin’ into detail,” he said. He grabbed a roll of gauze and covered the biggest injury to his arm.

“You really need to be more careful! What would we all do if something happened to you?” she scolded him.

Daryl laughed again and shook his head. “Jude, yer ten. Would ya quit tryin’ to boss me?” he said, hopping down onto his feet. He reached for his shirt.

“Well, am I wrong?” she asked, and this time Daryl heard the real worry and vulnerability in her voice.

He froze with his shirt in his hands for a moment before hurriedly pulling it on and going to kneel down in front of her so they were eye to eye. “Nothin’ is gonna happen to me,” he drawled.

“You don’t know that. You can’t,” she countered. “Look what happened to—to—” so many names were going through her brain she didn’t know where to begin.

He gently gripped her shoulders. “Hey—Nothin’ is happenin’ to me. But even if it did, ya got a whole lotta people who love you and RJ and would take care of ya. Ya know that, right? Ya got a big family who will always look out for ya.”

She nodded, her brown eyes averted down toward the floor now.

“Alrigh’. Gimme a hug. I missed ya,” he said. Judith grabbed him tightly and didn’t let go for a long moment. He hugged her back with everything he had. Finally, she seemed to have forgiven him for getting hurt and she gave him a warm smile. Daryl returned it and straightened up, nudging his head toward the door. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here. Dog’s waitin’ outside somewhere.” Judith led the way.

“Well, what ya been doin’ since I was out, hmm? Ya been good? And RJ?” he asked as they went down the steps side-by-side.

She nodded. “Yeah. We stayed with Auntie Y/N,” she said, glancing up at him with some twinkle in her eye that made Daryl believe she knew more than she should.

And his heart started to whir even just at the mention of your name. He cleared the tightness in his throat. “Oh, yeah? Have a good time?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “But I couldn’t sleep one night, so she let me climb in with her.”

Daryl smiled fondly. That mental image was almost too much to handle. You and Judith both melted him… Shit. So much for trying to deny those feelings. “That help?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah.” She seemed thoughtful for a moment and a brief silence stretched. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and glanced up at him again, squinting a little in the sun. “You know… Y/N has scars too. Kind of like yours,” she said suddenly.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and his stomach twisted. What did she mean by that? “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Judith nodded. “Lots. I ask her about them. She tells me funny stories.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Well…” she paused thoughtfully again. “She doesn’t want to really tell me how she got them. I’m sure it’s not very nice. Maybe scary. Like how you just wouldn’t tell me why you crashed your bike. So, she makes up funny stories instead.” As usual, Judith was wise beyond her years.

Daryl nodded. “What kinda stories does she tell ya?”

“Just silly ones,” Judith said, turning onto the sidewalk and starting toward where Dog was waiting at the corner, tail wagging furiously. “Unicorns and hidden treasure and stuff. I know it’s not real, but I like it when she tells them. She does it a lot when I can’t sleep.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed. He nestled the side of his thumbnail in between his teeth and chewed on it anxiously. You had lots of scars. There was a lot more to you he didn’t yet know, despite all the things you’d been through with the group.

Judith ran ahead and greeted Dog happily and the two ran off down the sidewalk toward Rosita’s.

Later that night, with the kids were nestled safely in bed, Daryl bid goodnight to everyone gathered there and headed into the cool evening. Alexandria was coated in silky deep blues, and he was surprised to find that his feet had led him toward your house instead of his own apartment. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up toward the front door. There was still light inside pooling out of the front windows and he shifted nervously for one moment more before starting up the steps onto the porch and knocking on the front door.

You appeared in a moment with slightly tousled hair and a wrinkled paperback in one hand. “Daryl,” you said with some surprise, but offering a generous smile. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” he said, passing his coat from one hand to the other. “S—sorry, is this too late or uhh—a bad time?”

“No! No, not at all. I just wasn’t expecting you obviously,” you laughed. “Did you want to come in?” you asked, stepping back.

He chewed on his bottom lip anxiously for a moment before nodding. “Sure. Thanks,” he murmured, ducking his head as he brushed past you, almost touching as you held the door open for him. “I, uhh, I—dun really got any reason to—just thought—”

It was then that you saw the bandage on his arm and noticed that he was moving a little gingerly. “God—are you alright? What happened?” you asked. Daryl took in the look of overwhelming concern on your face.

“Ah, it’s—s’nothin’,” he said dismissively, glancing at his arm.

“Daryl—” you said again, moving around him and catching sight of some deep bruising that the bandage didn’t conceal.

“ ‘M fine. I just—had a bit of a bike crash is all… goddamn walker gore all over the road and—”

“You’d better just come in and sit down. Let me see if I’ve got any Advil or something…” You were already wandering away again before he could protest. “You’ll have to tell me all about it!” you called back over your shoulder.

Daryl could only stride after you and try to keep up. “It ain’t bad, really…”

You ignored that assertion. “I can’t find the Advil. But I did find this,” you said, holding up a bottle of whiskey.

Daryl was seated on the couch, perhaps a little stiffly from all his nerves, but at that he tilted his head. “I mean—I ain’t gonna say no,” he drawled, and you laughed. His heart jumped at the sound.

“Yeah, it looks like you had a hell of a day. You deserve it.” You poured a generous amount in two tumblers and came to sit next to him on the couch. “So. Before I make you tell me what happened, any specific reason you came by? Not that you need to have one,” you said with a smile.

Daryl took a big gulp of whiskey and exhaled at the rich burn down the back of his throat. He nodded, staring down into the bottom of his glass and the amber light coming through it. “Nah, I just wanted to come by and say thanks for lookin’ after Jude and RJ, ya know. I know Rosita really appreciated it.”

Your eyebrow quirked up. “Yeah, of course. They have their hands full with Coco anyway. And Eugene,” you joked and shook your head. “You didn’t have to come by to thank me for that. We’re family. And you know I adore them.” You sipped from your glass again.

Daryl was spinning his glass in his hands a little restlessly. “Yeah, I know. But—well, they adore ya too.” You smiled warmly and Daryl felt a flush in his chest that certainly wasn’t 100% the whiskey. “Jude—she really came down on me for this,” he said, gesturing with his injured arm, laughing dryly.

You let out an amused exhale. “I’m sure she did,” you replied, giving him a knowing glance.

“That girl may be only ten but she’s got the sass of a grown up, that’s for damn sure.”

“A girl after my own heart,” you laughed. “Alright, enough avoidance, Daryl. Tell me what happened out there.”

He sighed and shook his hair out of his eyes before drinking deeply to give himself enough courage to meet your eyes. Your cheeks were warm with a rosy hue and your eyes were bright and perceptive. He gulped. “There really ain’t much to tell. I was haulin’ ass tryin’ to get outta somewhere I shouldn’ta been and there was a bunch of—run over walkers and gore and who-the-fuck-knows what else in the road. Wheels just shot straight out sideways as soon as they hit. ‘M fine.”

He hazarded another glance at your expression. Your mouth was pouting in a soft frown and your brow was slightly creased with worry. “Jesus. I’m so glad you’re not worse off, but that isn’t nothing. Did you get taken care of properly?”

He flicked a hand dismissively. “Yeah. Rosita helped patch me up. S’fine.”

“Is this a real ‘it’s fine’ or a Daryl ‘it’s fine’? Those are two completely different categories,” you pressed.

He let out an amused exhale and shrugged. “I dunno. I dun think I get to make that call.”

“No. You don’t,” you agreed. You reached out and gently grasped his wrist, lifting his arm and turning it so you could see the bruising better. He winced as you rotated it and you stopped immediately. Your brow furrowed more deeply. “You caught a hell of a bounce.”

Daryl’s nerves were almost shot just from your fingers on his wrist. He drained the rest of his glass and nodded stoically.

You noticed and took another sip from your own glass. “More?”

He glanced over at you, considering it as you reached for the bottle again. He brushed a hand back through his hair and nervously scratched at a non-existent itch. “Uhh—I pro’bly shouldn’t…”

“Why, you got somewhere to be?” you asked him.

“No, but—”

“You wanna get out of here? Head home? It’s okay. I won’t be offended,” you laughed. “Obviously you had a long couple days out there.”

Daryl hurried to answer and refute that. “No. No, not at all.”

“Alright…” You still were giving him a questioning look.

“I just pro’bly shouldn’t drink too much ‘round ya,” he murmured, ducking his head.

“Around me specifically?” you laughed. “Daryl—what is going on in that head of yours?” You refilled your own glass with a bit more whiskey and set the bottle down on the coffee table beside his empty tumbler, where he could reach it easily if he decided he wanted another drink.

He hazarded a glance up at you, his blue eyes a little shy. “I dun wanna do or say somethin’ that—” he broke off, biting his bottom lip.

Your eyebrow quirked up again and you swallowed another gulp of whiskey. It burned and tingled on your lips. “That what?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, shrugging you off. “I dunno. Never mind,” he murmured. He was avoiding your eyes again.

You set your glass down on the table and the resounding clack was loud in the quiet of the house. “What are you worried about?” you pressed him. “Hey—look at me. It’s just me.”

A small nervous laugh escaped him, and his eyes zipped back over to yours. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, tha’s—kinda the problem…”

You felt something change in the air at that moment. It became thick and heavy and seemed to crackle with electric tension. “I see,” you said softly. You turned on the couch so you were angled more toward him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding.

“Can I kiss you?”

Daryl gulped. His mouth hung partially open for a moment, his brow furrowed. He was sure he’d misheard you. “…what?”

Your lips curved in a small smile. “I asked if I can kiss you,” you said plainly.

Daryl stared at you intensely for a moment. “W—why?” he managed to stammer out. Your smile widened.

“Why? Wow, I really didn’t expect to have to justify myself,” you said. “Because…” you paused thoughtfully and he watched as you pulled your plump bottom lip in between your teeth and released it again after a moment. Jesus Christ, he wanted to kiss you. Why the fuck had he asked ‘why?’ He was mentally kicking himself. “Because I have feelings for you. And I have for a long time. And somehow it just feels right to ask right now.”

“You’ve got feelin’s for me?” he repeated back blankly.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He gulped. Was he dreaming this? Maybe he’d made it back to his apartment and collapsed into bed and this whole entire thing was in his head—you in your sweatshirt and lightly tousled hair, the whiskey, your concern about his injuries—it was all a dream. Right?

Your voice interrupted his swirling thoughts. “Do you have feelings for me? I’ve wondered that for a long time too…”

All he could do at first was nod until he could unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth where it seemed glued. “Yeah. I’ve got—I’ve had feelin’s for ya for—since practically when we first met.”

You smiled at him again, a wide bright one, and his heart leapt in his chest. “So, kiss me,” you said. Your voice was a bit breathy and your eyes happy and dewy. He still hesitated, frozen in some disbelief maybe, so you gently grabbed the front of his shirt and leaned in to press your lips to his. He could taste the bourbon on yours, and it took only a split second for him to reach for you and pull you in against him more tightly, to kiss you back eagerly and almost desperately. You hummed a small noise of pleasure and yielded to his hands and his lips. The heat between you grew and became more insistent. Daryl’s hands gripped your hips and pressed into your back, tracing the edges of your shoulder blades and curve of your spine. His fingertips found the ends of your hair and gently combed in.

Eventually the kiss slowed and became gentle and deep again, and then, suddenly conscious of the surprise that he was kissing you, Daryl pulled back and studied your face. His blue eyes fixed to yours. “This ain’t—is this just the whiskey?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious. His hands were still on you and you didn’t want them to leave. You rested one of yours over his and shook your head, still breathless from the kiss.

“No,” you reassured him. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod, still looking a bit nervous. He couldn’t look away now, afraid this whole thing would vanish.

Your cheeks were flushed pink and you laughed. “I am hot now, though,” you laughed. “And I have a feeling that’s partially the whiskey, but mostly you.” You reached for the hem of your sweatshirt and swept it off over your head, tossing it carelessly behind you on the couch. You met Daryl’s eyes again. He seemed to be almost overwhelmed. You leaned in and kissed him again, softly this time.

His hands settled on your now bare upper arms and he felt a ridge beneath his fingertips, barely visible below your t-shirt sleeve. Glancing over, he saw the end of a scar. You noticed him noticing and looked up with a somewhat unreadable expression on your face.

“Unicorn or buried treasure?” he asked.

You laughed and your cheeks flushed even more pink. “Jude told you about that, huh?”

Daryl nodded, his fingers moving lightly against your bare skin. “Yeah,” he said, the corner of his eyes crinkling in a smile. “That kind of thing? Tha’s why I started fallin’ for ya,” he drawled.

You smiled back at him, electricity running over your skin from his touch. The next moment, his face turned serious again.

“She said—” his brow furrowed and a shadow grew on his face. “She said ya have a lot of scars.”

You looked down briefly and then nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“Well, ya already know ‘bout mine. Ya can tell me ‘bout yours when ya want to—or don’t. It dun matter to me. I already—I care ‘bout every inch of ya. Makes no difference how many scars come with havin’ you. Uhh—not that I have ya…” he stammered.

You smiled again. “Yeah, you do.” You moved into him again and rested your head on his shoulder. He could smell your shampoo and his heart fluttered at the closeness. If he did have you, he'd never let go.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #judith grimes #uncle!daryl

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thefreakydeaky · 8 months

Text

After the Thrill is Gone

Part Four

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Negan Smith x Reader

Summary: From the first moment you laid eyes on Negan you were inexplicabley drawn to him. The passion between you is hot and only grows more intense the longer you see each other. There is only one problem, you're both married to other people.

Warnings: Dark Fic , Stalking, Stalker behavior, Smuttyness, Adult Language, I'll add more warnings as I post, so please check the warnings for updates on each chapter.

You sat in the pick up lane in front of the school for twenty minutes before you gave in and decided to go looking for Wyatt.

You moved out of the lane and drove up to the parking lot. You grumbled to yourself as you freed Millie from her car seat. You had to pick up Hunter at four thirty and this delay was going to mess up your schedule.

You went to the front office and signed in, Millie on your hip. One of the front office ladies commented on how cute she was and you smiled politely.

"Can you find out what Wyatt Dixon's last class was for me, please?" You asked in your most cordial tone.

"It looks like his last class was gym with Mister Smith."

You fought the grimace threatening to spill over your features.

"Thank you. Can you tell me how to get to the gym please?"

The lady gave you a few simple directions and you headed off.

When you got to the gym, you pulled open one of it's heavy doors and heard sneakers on the polished hardwood floors. You looked around you and caught sight of your son doing jumping jacks. You walked toward him, only to notice Negan watching from a few feet in front of Wyatt.

"Good Afternoon, Misses Dixon." He said in the most off putting jovial tone.

"Wyatt, It's time to go. Go and get your things."

Wyatt slowed his movement, but didn't stop, looking from Negan to you.

"You owe me twenty more of those young man. Don't you stop." He told your son.

"What are you doing?" You demanded.

"Didn't you hear? We teach our students to be respectful of one another at this school and Wyatt here, called one of his classmates a 'fat loser.' So, he's doing a little work towards learning his lesson."

"Wyatt!" You chastized, appalled.

Your son grimaced.

"Where are we at?" Negan called to him.

"Forty. Five." Wyatt answered.

"Fifteen more and you are free to go."

The boy nodded.

"Who is this little angel?" Negan reached a hand out and touched your daughter's cheek. "My, what beautiful eyes."

You didn't respond.

"What's your name, Darlin'?" He spoke to your baby.

"I Miwee." She responded.

He looked to you for clarification.

"Millie." You said quietly.

"Short for Camilla?" He posed. "My mother was a Camilla."

He held his hands out to your baby and to your surprise she reached toward him. Before you could protest he had whisked her into his arms.

"Look at you, little Darlin'. I could just eat you up." He cooed and tickled her chin.

She giggled and put her hand over his. He looked into her eyes again and his eyebrow's came together.

"You can't use him as an excuse. I don't want to see you. I've been transparent about that." You said in as even a tone as you could manage.Displeasure twisted like a snake in your belly.

"Where are we at, Dixon?" Negan prompted, ignoring you.

"Fifty-seven." Wyatt replied out of breath.

Your eyes looked from Wyatt to Negan holding your daughter. You heart squeezed painfully in your chest. It was all so wrong.

"Atta boy." He said and watched him do the final three jumping jacks. "Now you can go get changed and get your things."

You saw your son jog toward the locker rooms and watched him disappear beyond the thresh hold.

"You never said you didn't want to see me." He replied. "You said you "can't" see me. You haven't left me with many options. So, I will take the opportunity that has presented itself and use it to the fullest."

You stared at him, unable to believe what you were hearing.

"You're going to use my son to get to me?"

"What else can I do? You won't take my calls, you won't meet me to talk."

"I can go to the principal and tell her you're harrassing us."

"That's one way of looking at it. Another is If I ever felt like there was something your husband should know, I have his phone number and your address."

Your body went rigid.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I assure you, I would." He kissed the top of your daughter's head. "But go ahead, take the risk, let the chips fall where they may."

You cursed under your breath.

"Listen to me, I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. I just want to go back to my regular life and forget I ever met you." You hissed and snatched Millie out of his hold.

His grin froze on his face.

"We both know that's bullshit. I am under your skin and I am not going anyfuckingwhere."

Your chest went tight with anxiety.Your daughter prompted by Negan's use of her new favorite word, echoed him, "Fuck!"

Negan chuckled.

Wyatt came out of the locker room then, back pack over his arm.

You waited until he had come up beside you and then you turned your back on Negan, leading the way out of the gym.

"You know, kid, from what I saw today, you got a hell of an arm. You'd do well on the baseball team." Negan told your son.

"Wyatt, let's go." You said without turning back. You heard him jogging a bit to catch up with you.

"Think about it. Try outs are next week." He called after you as you left the gym.

You tried to quickly put the baby back in her car seat, but your hands were trembling. Eventually you got through the task. Wyatt sat up front and you turned the car on. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and got ready to drive over to Saint Augustine's Acadamy for Hunter.

•••••••••••••••

He wasn't going to let you go easily. He meant it when he said he couldn't be with out you. Your scent, your touch, visions of you on all four in front of him, on your knees for him, on your back for him, begging prettily for his cock filled his head.

You had to be aching inside as acutely as he was. There was a space in his heart that fit only you. It hungered for your presence. He hungered for your presence.

As he stood there in the darkness, watching you wash dishes through your kitchen window, he resolved to show you how wrong you were. He didn't yet know how, but he was sure there was a way.

#negan x reader #negan smith x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader

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pedroscurls · 1 year

Photo

Title: One Drunken Night (Part 8.)

CHAPTER TITLE: Hello Again

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

(GIF source: @loregifs, @jdmorganz)

Three years later…

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

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

“I’m just so proud of you, darlin’.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I always am!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

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

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

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

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

“Where’s my favorite girl?”

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

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

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

“I know, I know. It’s just–”

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

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

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

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

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

The little girl nodded excitedly. “Right!”

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

“Wuv you,” she said. “A wot.”

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

She nodded. “Yes, mama.”

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

“Wuv you forever,” she replied almost instantly.

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

Though, it didn’t matter.

Her collection was all about her daughter, Mila.

—

Three years earlier…

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

“Darlin’? What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But–”

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

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

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

“Joel… I’m scared. Is she–”

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

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

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

“Joel…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is she in any pain?” Joel asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s got your eyes,” he said aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel grinned. “That’s perfect.”

—

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

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

“Takes after her mother,” Joel winked.

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

“But we didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm, let’s go.”

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

“Joel, take me. Please.”

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

“Joel, fuck me.”

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

“Always wet for you,” she corrected.

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

“Joel…” She pleaded. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You promise?”

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

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

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

“I love you too, darlin’.”

—

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he muttered.

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

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

“Joel,” he grinned.

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

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

“I asked you a question, Negan.”

“And I asked you one too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joel!” She exclaimed.

“Negan?” she added.

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

“No… No, Jack, wait,” she stopped.

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

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

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

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

“Joel, really?” She began.

“Darlin’, he–”

“I don’t care!”

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

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

“Hello again,” he winked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joel, just don’t.”

“Sorry,” he repeated.

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

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

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

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

“But it’s your night, darlin’.”

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

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

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

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

“Negan, I swear to god–”

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

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

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

“You never fucking told me!”

“I tried!”

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

Daughter.

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

“I don’t care. It’s too late.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Negan, I don’t–”

“I deserve to meet her,” he interrupted.

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

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

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

“Darlin’–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel responded.

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

She narrowed her eyes as a response.

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

---

Part 9.

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

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