#twdfiction

[walkingdeadjunkie]

[IMAGINE] YOU AND DARYL DIXON FALLING IN LOVE WOULD LOOK LIKE:

(Not my GIF! But thank you to the lovely person who made it!)

• You first saw Daryl when his group arrived in Alexandria and you find his brooding nature rather interesting. He is very different to the other people you had met here, a loner by choice and not by exclusion. One day he is dragged into the infirmary, badly wounded and in need of urgent care; you’re quick to stablize him however and over the week you help nurse him back to health.

• Once he is released you talk to one another every now and again, usually during spontaneous run ins around the town. Daryl is too reserved to approach you himself, so you’re the one who makes the effort to strike up a conversation. Once the chats begin to flow easier Daryl mentions key points from the last time you had spoken with him and you’re always impressed with his memory.

• He asks if you know how to protect yourself- concerned that you may not since you’ve been under guard from day one. Once you tell him that you’ve never had a chance to learn how; Daryl spends nearly every day training you on self-defence and basic archery. He even gives over a few weapons.

• You two gradually become closer and spend a majority of your free time together doing different activities that the other enjoys. You both believe that it is all platonic in nature, but the atmosphere hints at otherwise and there’s a lot of lingering glances from Daryl when you aren’t looking.

• Everytime he goes on a run he comes back with small gifts. It’s usually items that you’ve mentioned in passing or knick-knacks for around the house. When you thank him for them he shrugs you off everytime and says; ‘Ain’ nothin’.’ But you know he’s going out of his way to do this kindness, and you pay him back by cooking all of his meals without being asked, or tending to his array of constant injuries any time the need arises.

• He refuses to let you go out of the gates without him when medical help is requested. Regularly you two get into arguments about him being needed in Alexandria vs him needing to keep watch of you. He says that you can’t risk getting hurt because the town needs you, but you know that it’s more than that and so you always give in.

• When you break your leg during a mission Daryl helps you with everything at home until it is fully healed. He doesn’t listen when you tell him that you’re more than capable of doing chores with your hands and forces you to rest instead because he wants to care for you like you do for him.

• Over a bowl of stew Daryl asks you about Saddiq and tiptoes around the question of whether or not you are interested in him. Surprised, you burst out into a fit of laughter that lasts until your stomach burns and slap Daryl’s shoulder- quickly reassuring him that nothing has ever been like that at all and if there was he would be the first to know. He doesn’t allow his face to betray his relief and instead says Michonne asked him about it in private.

• You give Daryl a spare key to the house and tell him that he’s welcome to come and go for anything he needs. In the beginning he doesn’t use it, but after a few late nights talking together until exhaustion he starts sleeping on the couch and gets more comfortable to come inside on his own. Eventually you convince him to take the bed after his overnight runs while you’re at work, and now he leaves his pillow behind for his regular return in the morning.

• One day things change between you both. The conversations are emotionally intimate with a lot of comforting, he starts to spend time in bed with you on his off nights and you’re becoming increasingly bold with tugging on his sleeve for attention. You start to like being so close to Daryl and so does he. However, it seems to be a double edged sword as he begins to silently resent other men being too close to you. Appearing out of thin air during chats with someone that makes you laugh a lot, standing extra close to you in public while around the others and asking you for help on mediocre jobs to get you away from certain company. You always make sure he feels cared for during those tense times; mistaking his possessive moments for a bad day and doing something special to cheer him up.

• Daryl comes by while you’re at work and convinces you to take a few hours off for lunch to go outside with him. He reaches out for your hand when you’re both out of eyesight and you melt at the gesture. It is the first time Daryl has held onto a part of you, and it makes you feel warm all over. He leads you to a small clearing a few minutes away and when you see the meadow you’re completely in awe. It’s beautiful; the floor is littered with pastel flowers, full-leaved trees create a dense wall all around and the sun warms your face as you lay down shoulder to shoulder with him. Neither of you let go, and instead just enjoy the moment of being together and not thinking about the years of horror you’ve had to endure and will continue to. You feel safe. You always do with him. After a long pause Daryl speaks up and says that this is his second favorite spot in Alexandria; when you ask what the first one is- he mumbles hurriedly with:

“Where I was las’ nigh’.”

[walkingdeadjunkie]

IMAGINE IF NEGAN SENT GIFTS TO YOUR HOUSE JUST TO PISS RICK OFF AND HE FINALLY SNAPS:

(GIF is not my own, so thank you to the lovely person who created it.)

“I’m done with this goddamn shit.”

Rick tossed the last box into the trash and stormed back in the kitchen with a scowl. The entire morning had been a tornado of testosterone-fueled-hysteria, and it was all thanks to the man with a grotesque baseball bat and sick sense of humor. You sighed loudly and took the last swig from your cup of coffee, all the while Rick’s remained untouched on the counter.

“Stop worrying about it, please. Come and sit down with me.” He remained animated.

Rather than the typical small gift Negan would have delivered to rile up the morning; the antagonizing gremlin had gone a step further, and it caused Rick to become a man possessed by fury. Carl had pulled the two of you from bed early that morning. What should have been an enjoyable Sunday became anything but the moment you set eyes on four large crates at the doorstep. There was no need to guess who it was for or who it was from, but still you read the card a red-faced Carl handed over.

‘Can’t wait to check out that tight ass again. I love you endlessly, Negan.’

Rick had torn it into pieces immediately.

Within minutes the majority of Alexandria had circled around to inspect the contents of such a large drop off- even Daryl wandered over to see what the fuss was all about. There were candies and snacks that you shared around despite Rick’s reservations, an array of baby toys for Judith neither of you wished to keep, fancy hygiene products with scents you hadn’t experienced for years and layers of skimpy lingerie that were hastily shoved into the arms of anybody who wanted them.

Negan gifted you an entire mall- but it was at the price of Rick’s increasing distress and you wanted to get a return.

It was near eleven and Rick still hadn’t cooled down from his warpath. He paced back and forth in the kitchen while muttering to himself; hands flying up every once and again during what seemed like a one-way argument. He didn’t stop moving around until you crept up from behind and wrapped two stiff arms around his middle; preparing your sweetest voice before speaking up.

“He just wants your reaction. Try and look at the bright side of his pettiness, at least everyone gets to enjoy something new today, right?” He scoffed, offended by the passive opinion you held. Your arms loosened to let him turn around in the embrace.

“It doesn’t matter why he does it or who gets ‘something new’.” Rick seemed more on edge than he had for a while and it was upsetting to see him so shaken by another one of Negan’s head games. “He takes my town, my power, my people- and now he’s coming after you? He’ll never stop.” You pull him down and press your lips against his swiftly.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that Negan will get his comeuppance one day soon-.” He tried to pull back but you held on defiantly. “I promise you it won’t be like this for long, okay? The bad guys always fall. They always have when they go up against you.” Your fingers tangled through his hair and his expression softened. Quickly he tucked his hands underneath you and lifted high until your legs wrapped around his hips. The intimacy was familiar and a sigh escaped you. “You know, I’m thinking that we use this whole thing to our advantage.” His was gaze steady and a brow rose high.

“Really?”

You clicked your tongue and smirked, readjusting a little against him in search of the soft growl he would give. “Oh, really. I’ll request a rocket launcher. Hell, if I say how much you would hate to see a heavy weapon in my hands, I would get at least a shipment worth of them.” Your tone grew husky and you tugged him closer by the shirt with a grin. “Then, Mr. Grimes, we blow that asshole back to hell and celebrate over a few glasses of Alexandria’s finest water.”

He chuckled and dipped low to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “If it was only that easy.”

[walkingdeadjunkie]

Southern Comfort [Merle Dixon x Reader]

Requested by: negansgirl06

I was hopping for something where the reader promises Merle that she doesn’t cut he/her self anymore and when Merle our she’s been doing it agin he makes her promise to stop and it ends in some really cute fluffy cuddles? (I’m not sure if you write about angst but I figured what’s the harm I’m asking)

Summary: Merle Dixon was the last person on earth who you thought would give a shit about anybody but himself. But the man had a soft spot for loners. And that's what you were.

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: self-harm, swearing and attempted suicide.

Word count: 2,885

GIF isn’t mine, but please check out the blog for the lovely person who made it!

You’ve cut too deep this time and now blood is dripping all over the tent floor. You throw your overshirt onto it and wipe it up as best you can then bring your arm to your chest and slide outside. You need to get to the water and clean it up before it attracts the attention of the others or walkers. It’s dark out here but with one arm out of commission and the other supporting it, you aren’t able to carry a lantern and instead rely on the moonlight to help you down the small walkway and rush to the lake. Stumbling on this and tripping over that. You think of them as you make your way down so carelessly. Your brother, sister and mother. All of whom were torn into ribbons right in front of your eyes by neighbors you’d known longer than your runaway father. People who cared for you since the tender age of three- people who were also dead.

You come to the water and kneel at it. There’s no tears that escape your eyes because they’d dried up a long time ago, that’s why the cutting helps. It gives you an emotional release that nothing else does. You’re about to stick your arm in when a hand wraps around your shoulder and you look up to see the frightening half of the Dixon brothers looming close. You startle then fall back onto the cut arm and cry out. He makes no move to help you and your arm returns to the cradled position it was in before.

“Don’ wan’a puh ya arm ‘n there darlin’, shit’ll make ya sicker than a man who sticks his dick ‘n a mule.” His back is against the moonlight and it reaffirms just how hulking he is. Merle squats down and holds a hand out. Your heart is racing by his sudden attendance. “Ain’ gon’ hurt ya fancy lady. Done ‘nough a tha’ ya self.” You chew on your lip and think about the risks. It doesn’t seem like he has ill intentions at all and so you lay the back of your arm on his open palm. He brings it close up to himself then tuts and clicks his tongue. “Well fuckin’ ‘ell, did a numb’a on yaself didn’ ya?” You stay quiet and he looks over. “Got anotha shirt?”

“What?”

“Got anotha shirt?” You didn’t want to answer, the question felt unsafe. “Oh fuckin’ ‘ell, course ol’ Merle’s tha fuckin’ cunt who gotta tear ‘is shit up for a damn city woman.” He lets go of your arm and your eyes widen when he grips the bottom of his singlet and lifts it high. You shift yourself back and begin to whimper.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You beg softly. He freezes for a moment, then lets the singlet fall back down.

“I ain’ a fuckin’ rapist ya bitch. I ain’ even lookin’ at ya skeleton ass- uppity lil shit ain’ ya?” He says roughly. You feel guilty instantly. “Ya need ta wrap ya fuckin’ arm ‘for ya blackout ‘n die.” He pulls the singlet all the way off and tears the bottom of it like butter. Quickly he lines up the fabric at the beginning of the cut, loops it around the limb and looks up. “’s gon’ fuckin’ hurt fancy lady so bite ya otha arm.” You do as he says and when he tightens it your teeth sink into the skin and you let out a muffled moan. “Now hol’ it up.”

You do just that. The thumping and pulsing in your arm is worse than the cutting was and the man throws his singlet back on. You’re too busy floating around in your own world of pain to really pay attention to him until a shuffling sound catches your interest and you look up to see him with his hand out again.

“Need’a get ya ass inside woman.” You look at his hand again and back at him. You still can’t make out his expression but he helped you and so there’s a slither of trust between you both. You put your hand in his and he helps you stand then lets go. “Why’d ya do it?”

“I’m sad.” You reply simply.

He laughs loudly.

“Well, fuckin’ do some oth’r shit.” Your brows come together while he steps away to create more space.

“It’s not that easy.” You reply with mild frustration.

“Well ol’ Merle’s got drugs if ya wan’ black out ‘nstead?” He offers easily, like it was normal to do so.

“No. Those are bad for you.” 

“An’ cuttin’ ya shit up ain’? Least ya’ll die happier bein’ high on rocks den bleedin’ out by a blade.”

You realise then just how monumentally different you are regardless of the background or personality. He’s a tweaker and you’re sober. You should have picked up on the signs a lot earlier- but at least he was nice.

“I’m fine.” You reply stiffly. He lets out an amused chuckle and stretches out.

“Nah, ya ain’ tha’s why ya fuckin’ did tha’ and told me ya sad.” He sighs and faces you completely with his arms crossed. There’s a long silence before he continues. “Dun do tha’ shit ta yaself fancy.”

The glare is instant. Your face is exposed to the light unlike his so you know he can see it.

“Why the hell do you care? We don’t know each other. This is our first conversation.”

“I see ya wanderin’ ‘round woman, all mopey and alone. I’m a lon’a too, buh I goh lucky wit’ lil Darylina. You didn’. Us kind gotta look out for one anoth’a.” He replies simply.

“Is that why you’re out here? You’re following me?” He laughs heartily and you feel embarrassed for what he’ll say next because it seems like you were the last thing on his mind.

“Get off ya fuckin’ high horse lady. I came ouh ‘ere ta smoke a bowl ‘nd saw ya dumbass trippin’ down tha hill.” He cracks his knuckles before continuing. “I’m gon’ need ya ta reassure ol’ Merle ‘ere sugar, cause he’s worried ‘bout ya. This ain’ normal shit and it’ll only get worse.”

“Why do you need my word?” And why are you worried about me, you think.

“Cause this is fucked up. If ya sad talk ta me, if ya hate me talk ta Darylina. He’s soft like ya. Ya don’ need’a do this ta ya’self. Shit’s hard- yea. Buh ya makin’ it harder.”

Maybe he really was just trying to be nice but you’ve never spoken to this man before and you sure as hell did not need to promise him anything. But he seems like the stubborn kind and so you grind your teeth and answer stiffly.

“Fine. I won’t.” He rubs his hands together then points one of them up the hill.

“Well tha’s dandy fancy pan’s. Now get back ta ya tent and ol’ Merle’s gon’ carry on ‘is night.” You roll your eyes and move around him to return to the camp. You owe Merle nothing and you will do whatever the hell you want.

*

It’s been a week since your run in with Merle Dixon and you haven’t spoken to him since. He leaves you alone and does whatever he does but every once and a while Daryl will give you a nod when your paths cross. The group here is flimsy and there’s a lot of competing egos and personality clashes in it. It’s enough to make you realize how much you don’t want to be here anymore. You spend the morning helping the women clean, barely listening to their conversations but nodding along with what they say like you were. You’ve already made your mind up on what you want to do and stole one of the men’s blades when they weren’t looking since yours went ‘mysteriously’ missing the day after you spoke to Merle.

You’re deep in the woods now. You had hoped to come across a walker to throw yourself at but all of the ones you see have arrows in their heads already. So now it’s left up to you.

This spot is nice enough.

With a flick of your wrist the blade is unsheathed from its handle. You fall onto your knees and cut your hand to check how sharp it is, it’s decent enough to get through a windpipe. With one last prayer and the smiling faces of your family in mind, your eyes close and the metal presses against the skin of your neck. You only manage to slide it less than an inch across when your wrist is squeezed so hard that you cry out and drop it. When you look up Merle is the one you see, his expression is furious and it panics you instantly. He kicks the knife far before yanking you up with a grunt.

“Wha’ tha fuck are a doin?! Ya fuckin crazy bitch. Tha’s tha fuckin worse way ta die!” His volume stings your ears and makes you feel small. But the shock wears off fast and you remember why you’re out here.

“Let me go!” You scream while struggling to pull yourself away. “I’ll fucking stab you before I kill myself if you don’t do it!” You continue to struggle against him but the man is made of concrete and he easily keeps you in place.

Your threat is nothing anyway, one half-assed slap and he could knock you into next year.

“Ya gave me ya word.” He growls. Brows together and creasing a line between them.

“I don’t care! My choices aren’t yours you hick. Fuck off!” He doesn’t flinch at the insult. He’s been called a lot worse no doubt and something so generic bounces off of him like styrofoam.

You kick at his legs and he waits until the steam runs out and you’re left breathing heavily. When you stop resisting he lets you go with a frown. For some reason or another you find yourself wrapping your arms around his middle and bunching the back of his shirt with your hands. You feel it then, a wetness on Merle’s shirt that tells you that you’re finally crying. After so long of nothing it comes out like a burst dam and you can’t stop. Your body is shaking and his hands are on your back while his head rests on yours.

“Ya gon’ be alrigh’. Shit’s jus’ hard at tha’ momen’. Life ain’ tha same way.” He says.

After a while the sobs turn into sniffles and then become whimpers. He’s warm and hard, like a stiff hot water bottle that makes you feel a comfort you hadn’t in a long time.

“I don’t want to be here Merle.” You admit. The grip on you is tightened a little more. “I hate these people, I hate what we’re doing, I hate everything.” He puts a hand on either arm and keeps you in place so he can step back. There’s nothing particularly soft in his expression, but he does seem aware and his attention is yours completely.

“Hate it all baby doll, buh don’ let it kill ya off. We’re all gon’ die. Buh die fightin’ fa somethin’, helpin’ someone- ya don’ like these people? Hell, neith’a do me or Darylina. Buh it works fa now, it ain’ gon’ be forever.” He replies.

You shake your head and break the stare for a moment.

“I can’t help anyone.” You whisper. “I couldn’t help my family so how the hell can I do anything?” Your gazes meet again. “These people don’t need me.”

He lets out a scoff and rolls his eyes. You didn’t expect something like that in such a sensitive situation but it does make everything feel less tense.

“Ya don’ know tha’. Ya migh’ be tha one cunt ‘round who will kill a walker tha’s about ta bite someone. Don’ blame yaself fa wha’s already done. Ain’ no manual on how ta survive a dam’ apocalypse and keep ya people ta’gether.” There’s nothing in his words that feel forced.

“I should have done more.” You say softly.

“Do more now.” He counters.

“But what if I do something wrong? What if somebody needs my help and I fuck up again?” The tears threaten to come back and you have to chew on your lip to keep it together.

He shakes his head.

“At leas’ ya fuckin’ tried fancy ‘n tha’s wha’ matters.” He stands tall again and brings you in for another hug that feels more intimate than it did before, like he cares. “ Ol’ Merle’s gon’ teach ya a few thin’s. Shit that’ll help ya feel strong an’ safe.”

“Like what?”

“Fightin’, huntin’, how ta kill a dam’ walker so ya don’ feel like ya can’. Shit that’ll make ya see how important it is ta be alive fa yaself an’ other fuckers.” He lets out a sigh that you feel deflate in his chest. “Ya ain’ gon’ be alone again.”

“You don’t know that.” You reply with a scoff.

“I fuckin’ dam’ well do woman. Only a Dixon can kill’a Dixon. An’ Darylina ain’ killin’ me yet.” The comment doesn’t make any sense to you because it isn’t true but you don’t correct him. His words feel nice. “And if he do, then ya still go’ ‘im. He’ll watch ou’ fa ya.”

You laugh at the comment and if your head could shake you’d do it.

“We’ve never spoken before Merle.” You say. “I doubt that.”

He lets out a laugh and once again you’re thrown off.

“Well don’ cause he’s tha only reason I knew ya fucked off ou’ ‘ere. An’ why ya didn’ get ya ass eaten by a fuckin’ walker. Cause he don’ wan’ ya dead neither.” You loosen your hold a little and the pieces begin to come together.

“He saw me come in here? Those arrows were his?” You ask.

“Sure as shit did. Boy walks like tha wind. Got a head’a ya ta kill ‘em off while I followed behind. Told ya woman, us lon’as gotta stick ta’getha like flies on shit.” He boasted proudly.

Despite the crudeness of the comment you hold Merle tighter and the tears come back again.

The Dixon brothers were the last men on earth that you ever thought would give a shit about you, yet they did. They cared enough to keep you alive, to show you that they were worried and gave you the time of day when nobody else has. Because they were alone too.

You pull far enough away to still be in his hold and he looks down, eyes widening a little as you tug him down by the front of his singlet. You stretch high enough to reach his cheek and plant a soft kiss on it. When you pull away from the embrace Merle stands tall with a high brow then looks you over slowly. He hasn’t said anything yet. But you know that whatever comes out isn’t going to be as platonic as it was when he was comforting you.

He lets out a low whistle.

“Well goddam’ fancy, if I knew ya would’a done tha’ ol’ Merle ‘ere would’a turned ‘is charm on ta get a little more.” He says throatily with wiggling brows.

Your eyes roll and you wipe at your face with a tired sigh.

“Don’t ruin the moment Dixon.” You say dryly.

“Oh I can make this momen’ even bett’a darlin’. I’m a givin’ man with a lotta love in ‘im.” He says playfully with a wink that you can’t help but smile a little at.

You walk around him and find the blade easily. The weight of it is heavier than you remember. Maybe because now you realise how close you came to leaving because of it. The scent of sweat and something like burning plastic comes close and you look to the side and see Merle staring back. You hold it out for him to take but he shakes his head.

“Shit’ll keep ya safe an’ give ya life instead’a takin it away. Hol’ on ta it. And don’ do this ‘gain.”

“I won’t.” You promise. And this time you mean it.

The sentiment is something you didn’t expect to come from somebody like him. But you take the advice with a smile, sheath the blade and pocket it. Instantly Merle wraps an arm around your shoulders that feels like a tree trunk and directs you back to the camp while whistling. Strangely enough it feels good to be held by him. A part of you wants it to stay that way even when you do get back.

“Merle?” You say while looking up at him with a smile he focuses on. “Thank you.”

He shrugs and let’s out a long sigh.

“Shit das wha’ friends is for fancy! Buh now it’s time ta show ya how ta skin a squirrel so ya can make ol’ Merle ‘ere some food when he too pissed ta cook.”

Squirrel?

“Why the hell can’t you make it? You have hands.” A laugh vibrates through his thick chest and his tone switches back to the flirty one he gave you after the kiss. His eyes brush over your tense expression and he grins.

“Cause tha’s wha’ lady friends is for sugar, well, tha’ and kissin’ ol’ Merle’s cheek.”

[walkingdeadjunkie]

IMAGINE NOT LIKING NEGAN BUT HE KEEPS YOU LOCKED AWAY IN SANCTUARY AND GETS JEALOUS WHEN YOU LIKE A NEW SAVIOR:

GIF not mine but thank you to the lovely person who made it!

Your path crossed Negan’s the night his Saviors raided your community. The moment he stepped forward with that damn bat wrapped in barbwire you knew exactly who it was, his reputation spread further than the virus itself. Known for his wrath and butchery, Negan is the man people tell stories of while they sit around the campfire, a monster worse than the Walkers. If he wants something of yours he will take it, and that goes for anything; your supplies, your people, your information, your life. For some reason or another he plucked you out of a line-up and had Simon pack you up like a little gift with an express ticket to Sanctuary, no matter how loud the pleas were. Because Negan always gets what he wants.

It is seventy-two days later and you are still here. Imprisoned in his self-proclaimed kingdom that is inescapable. No matter how addictive the fantasies of fleeing Sanctuary are, nothing will ever come to fruition. Negan knows that too. Which is why he lets you roam the compound freely without guard. Where would you go? Who would help you? The answers are simple; nowhere, and no one.

But when a new face appears in the ranks of the Saviors you find yourself feeling a little less morbid about the predicament. It has been so long since somebody new arrived, especially one in his twenties who looks the way he does. Today you overheard him introducing himself as Ray, and for the majority of the morning shift you think about him. Ray, the man with blonde hair and blue eyes that talks to nearly everybody. The end of the day comes quick and you walk back to the room; ready to shower and spend the rest of the evening in bed. As you reach the last floor and turn the corner, a fixed figure causes you to fall backward and onto the ground. A hand reaches for your arm and immediately the colorful tattoos decorating it gives away who it is. Ray helps you to your feet while apologizing repeatedly and let’s go once you’re stable. Up close he is even more mesmerizing; skin soft, jaw prominent, teeth sparkling. His face is kind and inviting even when it is troubled. You forget to speak for a moment.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Please, if there’s anything I can do for you- do you need the infirmary? I can escort you there.” He sounds remorseful, a tone that is a rarity in here unless it is directed at Negan. Although the offer is tempting there’s no reason to and instead you hold up two hands.

“Thank you, but I’m good. Honestly.” At those words the situation relaxes.

“Well if you’re sure, Miss. I’m Ray by the way.” He holds out a hand and your heart races at the gesture. It had been so long since you had physical contact with a person who wasn’t Negan, and now here he is- the man you had been watching since his first day; offering his touch to you. Tentatively, a hand slides into his and shakes it gently. He mirrors the pressure.

“I know who you are.” With high brows he drops the handshake and your face heats up from the thoughtless admission. “I mean you’re new, everybody talks about that kind of thing.” The response is casual but the reaction seconds before it betrays you. He smiles.

“Hopefully it’s good talk.”

“Well it hasn’t been bad.” You can’t believe it- he was here. Now. Wanting to talk and know who you are. “My name’s-.”

“Kitten.” Hearing that one word makes every inch of your body stiffen and you wonder how long he has been there; if he saw you shake Ray’s hand and reduce into a puddle of mush with a few words. The thought alarms you. “So good to see you here.” His voice is louder now, closer. A large body presses flush against your back and his thick hand wraps itself around your shoulder, rubbing it stiffly. It makes you shudder. “And with the new guy nonetheless.” Ray stands at attention and bows his head.

“Good evening, sir.”

He has no idea how close to danger he is. A little pup in the sights of a big, bad wolf who doesn’t like to share his lamb. You wish you could tell him to leave but it is already too late. The claws have come down and there’s no way to get out of it now. This is your fault. “Ray, isn’t it?” He nods. “Simon tells me you’re quite the marksman.” Negan’s voice is strong and confident; it has a way of suffocating the room. Judging by the way Ray shifts uncomfortably you know he is another victim of the man’s authority. He clears his throat before answering, searching for a poised tone in his vocal cords.

“I try my best.”

“Well you have impressed my second in command with your ‘best’ efforts and that does not go unnoticed by me. Is Ray short for Raymond by the way?” Caught off guard by the sudden change in topic he shakes his head slowly. “Really? That’s odd. Well, I hope you don’t mind if I call you Raymond. I just like it more.”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Good.” He begins, “good, good, good. Anyway, sorry to disrupt you two over here.” Negan moves himself around until you are side by side and an arm drapes over you, the tips of his fingers are too close to your neckline. Ray looks around with a mildly surprised expression. He must know that you aren’t one of the wives because he eyes you with confusion and curiosity. You mentally beg him to stop but the gaze is warm and you don’t want to shy away. Negan looks at you like meat; Ray looks at you like a puzzle. You would rather be put together than ripped apart. He looks back to Negan.

“There’s no need for an apology. I accidentally bumped into her and I wanted to make sure she would be okay.” Negan looks down to you. His expression alike to the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland; all teeth with empty eyes. The stare is hard to break. It captures you for all of the wrong reasons and strips you bare, digging itself into your head until you want to cry out. All without the use of words or physical power.

“I bet you did.” The answer is directed to you. “Do you need help, kitten? Because Raymond here seems worried, and frankly, so am I.” The concern in his voice is artificial, the firm grip on your arm reminds you of that. You want to tell him everything is okay, but the words won’t come out and he won’t drop that damned stare. Ray breaks the moment.

“I should go, sir. I have a patrol in ten minutes.” Negan’s attention falls to the man and he smiles, his free arm quickly coming into view and attempting to side swipe Ray with Lucille. He steps back just in time to miss the swing. The impact would have been crippling. Negan laughs heartily while Ray shrinks into himself and steps forward to slap him on the shoulder.

“Get out there, Raymond! Make me proud!” With one last goodbye to you both Ray departs quickly and as his footsteps become faint Negan looks down at you. Lucille twirling deliberately in his hand while he tuts and shakes his head. The sight is terrifying.

“Come on honey bunny, I wanna have a chat with ya.” It doesn’t take him long to reach your door, go inside, and find himself a seat at the end of your bed with the bat by his side. He lets out an exaggerated sigh and spreads his legs, quickly slapping at his left knee. Despite every inch of you begging to leave the order is obeyed. There’s nothing else to do. This is his home, his rules. Everything is about Negan. The second you sit down he comes close. “My, my, you haven’t spoken to another man in a long time, have you?” The question is unsettling.

“I haven’t spoken to anyone in a long time.”

“You’re right, silly me. But is it really my fault though? I told you. Marry me, and I’ll feel secure enough to let everyone else talk to you.” A hand grasps your jaw and forces you to look back. His skin is marked with scars, and the wrinkles between his brow and either side of his lips remind you of how manic he his. Moving between joyful and enraged; most times at once. Negan is handsome, undoubtedly so. But everything inside of him is revolting. If he was not such a vile and barbaric man you may have found yourself charmed by him as well, but he is vile and barbaric. A devil wrapped in flesh with no ounce of humanity in sight. And you are forced to be in his company like this whenever he pleases. “Now why are you being so cold with me, I saw how smiley you were with that boy. Why don’t I get that kind of treatment?” He easily moves around until you straddle him, the position makes you feel sick. “Am I not good enough for you, kitten? Getting too boring being cooped up here with me close-by? Stuffy is it?” Hands dig into your hips.

“No, Negan. Not at all.” The grip drops and is soothed over instead.

“That’s what I like to hear. I can’t have my little kitten being pissed on by a newer, younger man, can I? This-.” A hand snakes its way into your hair, pulling it back and giving him full access to your throat that he nips on gently. The intimacy makes your skin crawl and you clench your eyes shut. “Is my territory.” The words are soul-crushing. You were once your own woman; you owned a home, you worked in a beautiful office filled with plants and earned a comfortable paycheck. Now, you are his. Locked away in a castle and surrounded by dragons. He brings you back up to face him and sighs dejectedly. “You’ve been watching Raymond, haven’t you.”

Your stomach drops. He knows. Of course he does. Negan knows more than the walls do and you should have been more cautious with your interest in the new Savior.

“No.” The grip on your hair tightens and the warning is evident. His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth.

“Kitten, don’t lie to me. You know what happens to liars, and I would hate having to cave your pretty little skull in.” He runs one finger down the bridge of your nose and you flinch at the touch, he is indifferent to the response. “Now, sweetheart, answer me. Are you watching him?” Although dying does not scare you as much as it should, the idea of being at the receiving end of Lucille pins you into submission.

“Yes.” His faces scrunches up for a second but quickly falls back to a toothy grin. He chuckles.

“God. Why was that so hard for you to admit? I’m not that jealous, kitten. I’m just curious.” Negan’s curiosity has killed hundreds and his competitive nature is blood-thirsty. “Why ya been watching him? See something you like?”

“I- I guess.” A huff escapes his lips.

“Don’t worry, I get it. I’ve kept you up here for months, you’re probably longing to speak to somebody else. It’s natural to want more than one friend.” He stands tall. Your weight is jelly to him, effortless to carry and move around. “Do you know what? I think you should spend time with him.” Distracted by the out of character comment you show no discomfort at the way he readjusts you.

“Why would you ever let me do that?” He considers you for a moment, head tilted and eyes searching. This is the first time Negan has looked at you this way; thoughtfully. It feels alien.

“Oh, kitten. It’s because I want you to know that I’m the kind of man who would do anything for my women, and if you do take me up on the offer-.” One hand frees itself and brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, pausing there as he smiles softly. “I will gift you a new piece of Raymond to spend time with every day. Starting with that fucking hand he touched you with.”

[walkingdeadjunkie]

Characters I write for:

Male: Daryl, Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, Shane, Abraham, Gabriel, Eugene, Ezekiel, Jerry, Siddiq, Merle, Simon, Negan, Dwight, Aaron (Male Requests Only), Jesus (Male Requests Only).

Female: Michonne, Lori, Carol, Andrea, Sasha, Maggie, Rosita, Tara (Female Requests Only).