Michonne: I Dare You To Kiss The Next Person Who Walks Into This Room.

Y/n, Whispering to baby Judith: Say your prayers little one.. Don't forget my son, to include everyoneeeee

Daryl, confused as hell: What typa lullaby s'that?

Y/n: ... A cultured one.

7+8=15, 15+40=55

What in the world are these answers?? 😅

Justified - Chapter 7

A Negan Series

Chapter 6 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Warnings: smut - detailed and implied. Language. 18+ only.

A/n - Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me on this journey! There's one more little wrap up to this series coming (Daryl reunion, anyone?), but this piece feels good to finally finish. As always, feedback is welcome!

Her days bedridden passed lazily and slowly. Negan woke her with long, sensual kisses each morning before leaving her for most of the day.

She read to pass the time, sometimes reading aloud to Negan when he joined her again in the evenings. She liked making use of her vocal muscles, any way to release some of the energy that was returning to her more each day. He liked the sound of her voice, never really paying much attention to the subject of her reading. She noticed this, of course, and began sneaking in some smutty romance to see if he’d notice.

He did.

The IV and the pain of her wound still prevented much physical activity, but they found plenty of ways to work around that. The more time they spent together, the more they seemed to crave it.

In her moments alone, she found herself thinking of Daryl and did her best to push the thoughts away. Often unsuccessful, she sat in self-loathing, remembering the person she was with him. In the months they’d shared, they’d easily fallen into a rhythm of teamwork. Their runs together took longer than any other runs, not only because they enjoyed the time with one another, or because they liked to take advantage of the alone time with stolen kisses (and often more than that). Neither would openly admit it to the other, but they both brought with them a list for others in the community. Items Tara would request, or something that might make Carl smile, or a snack or drink Daryl had overheard Rosita reminiscing about. Anything one of their family would enjoy having. They both loved watching the faces of their people light up when they saw their treats. Both she and Daryl had figured out the other was doing the same thing, but neither wanted to call attention to it. It was an unspoken quest they were both happy to be part of.

 On the days they were working apart, sometimes with schedules so opposite they’d only see each other in passing, they had developed a secret code to signal the other for a secret rendezvous. A hideous turquoise and zebra print scarf - found in the bottom of a closet in the room they shared in the Grimes’s Alexandria home - spotted tied around a post, or tree, or car mirror, meant they’d find the other waiting for them at their claimed spot in the woods. It was a small clearing, wildflowers blooming across it in the spring, bordered on one edge by a large, downed tree that was great for sitting, but more importantly hid them from view from anyone who might be wandering from the community. They’d return home together half an hour later, smiling conspicuously, their clothes in disarray and often picking leaves and twigs off each other, before separating again to the tasks they’d been assigned. It was good. He was good, and she was good. They were happy.

The thought of returning to that now left her heart torn in two; she longed for it, for him to look at her in that trusting, happy way; and she knew without doubt that she could never have that again. When Daryl learned what she’d done, who she’d become…she imagined his face, what would simmer in his eyes when he looked at her, and she couldn’t bear it. Pushing the image deep within herself, she’d pick up another book and force herself to focus on the words.

She couldn’t deny that things had changed here in the Sanctuary. The people were mostly the same, though many of the Saviors she’d come to know would send her gifts and cards to wish her a speedy recovery, many stopping by to say hello and offer help. The place seemed brighter, somehow. Lighter. Like everyone was breathing easier. Even Negan seemed to have softened some. He was brooding less, and his jokes not so dark. It was nothing like Alexandria had been, but she couldn’t deny it felt… comfortable. Happy, even.

She almost kissed the doctor on the mouth when he informed her that her infection had cleared up and she could stop the IVs and begin light activity to strengthen her leg.

Negan turned his grin toward her as the doctor left the room. “So, would you like a walk outside or a shower?” he asked her, knowing both were on the top of her list of things to do first. She slowly stood, taking his outstretched hand and limping toward him.

It took a frustratingly long time to reach him. Finally in front of him, she lifted to her tiptoes, putting most weight on her good leg to do so, and planted her lips firmly against his. When he returned her kiss, she began unbuckling the belt of his pants. “I can think of something else I’d like first,” she mumbled against his mouth.

He pulled away to look her in the eye. “Are you sure?”

“The doctor said light activity was good for me,” she replied seductively.

He lifted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs around him and returned her lips to his.

“Not the bed,” she said against his mouth when he started moving her backwards. She’d spent too much time in that bed lately. He pivoted and instead made his way to the couch with her. He sat, her straddling his lap, and their kisses got more heated. Their tongues in a playful dance, her occasionally biting his lip in the way that drove him crazy. She felt his growing erection pressing into her core from within his jeans.

She made her way to his neck, sucking and kissing the tender spots, eliciting deep growls of pleasure from him.

She slowly moved to put her knees on the floor before him, careful not to flex her thigh too much, and finished the job of undoing his belt. She looked up at him with sultry eyes, biting her lip as she worked on his jeans, the heat in his eyes immediately making her wet between her thighs.

His jeans undone, his member sprung free of its cage, and she felt a tingle deep between her legs. The thick shaft, hard as a rock, beckoned for her to consume it. She conceded to its call, taking his tip into her mouth and flicking it with her tongue. She varied between a light suck and massaging it with her tongue, and raising her eyes, watched as he held her eye contact with every gasp she drew from him. She moved her mouth further down his length, working her tongue underneath his shaft. His head rolled back as she took him as far into her mouth as she could, coughing when he reached her gag reflex. Her hands moved to the area of shaft that remained exposed as she worked him up and down with her mouth, massaging and pumping him. Continuing with her mouth pumping and her hands massaging, she heard his moans and sharp breaths, and knew he didn’t have much further to go before he found release.

She withdrew from him, carefully and timidly standing, and met his eyes as she slowly dropped her pajama shorts to the floor. Stepping out of them, she pulled her shirt over her head and threw it haphazardly in the direction of the bed. Now bare before him, he could not help but reach out and touch her. She let him trace her shape with his hands from her hips to her breasts, where he cupped each in one hand. She moved to straddle him while he massaged her, and lowered herself until she felt his hardness pressed against her. She raised just slightly, enough to place his tip at her entrance, and she paused there. She leaned in, kissing him passionately. She began rocking her hips back and forth, feeling his slick tip rub up and down her center. She moved her mouth to his neck again, continuing the movement of her hips. She wanted him inside her, but not yet. She leaned back to look in his eyes as she continued teasing him and saw a plead in his eyes. He made to push into her, and she pushed his abdomen back down, preventing him.

“Y/n,” he moaned out, the plead moving from his eyes to his voice.

Her lips curled upward in a devious smile, she savored the power she held over him.

“Y/n,” this time a deeper growl, laced with demand.

She grinned wickedly at him, then holding his cock with her hand, moved him to her entrance and lowered herself onto him, fully sheathing him in her tight warmth. She leaned further away from him as she rolled her hips, savoring the way he filled her. He gripped her hips, steadying her with each roll. Negan began pumping up into her, finding her rhythm and matching it. They held eye contact as they rhythmically moved together. She picked up the pace and he groaned as his eyes rolled back in his head. She moved her hand between her legs, but he pushed it aside to replace it with one of his own. She felt her orgasm building as she continued to ride him, feeling him hit every wall within her, while he rubbed her clit in circles. As her moans grew louder and her eyes closed, she felt him pump up into her more vigorously. She shattered, leaning into him and crying out. When he was sure she’d ridden out her high, Negan lifted her and placing her on her back on the floor, quickly pumped back into her. He worked her fiercely, removing his cock almost completely from her and then pounding back in. Out and in, out and in, grunting with each insertion. She couldn’t stop herself from crying out in pleasure at every pump. A second orgasm was now verging on release. His pumps became more frantic, animalistic and he shoved in and out of her, her hands gripping the hair on the back of his head, and she gasped as her second release exploded through her. He followed immediately, erupting within her with a cry of his own. He stilled as he finished, pumped into her a few short times as she rode out her high, and then collapsed on the floor beside her, both panting.

“Fuck, y/n,” Negan said in a breathless voice.

The floodgates opened; they could not seem to get enough of each other after that. Not half an hour later, they were at it again in the shower. Her energy depleted quickly in her recovering state. Following the shower, she climbed back into bed, exhausted and sore. She smiled as she drifted into sleep. She awoke to Negan between her legs again, eager and demanding. After dinner, she did attempt a walk outside, but couldn’t get down more than three stairs before having Negan help her back to his room. Her leg throbbing from all the movement, the doctor gave her something strong for the pain. She slept a fitful sleep, dreaming of Daryl throughout the night.

-------

As she continued to recover, she did not return to her own room. There was no mention of it from either of them. The sex didn’t slow. They found themselves hungrily attaching to each other with every spare minute Negan could find. It did not matter where they were, and soon she was sure he’d had her in every room of the Sanctuary, and even places that weren’t rooms. Each day she got stronger and able to walk further, until finally she was limping around the border gates unsupported.

She was finishing one of those such walks, heading back toward the stairwell entrance where Negan had disappeared - giving her a suggestive nod to follow him inside - when she saw it. It was a brief flash of color in the corner of her eye, causing her to look again. Just another walker chained to the fence, she turned to walk to the door and froze. That was just another walker, but what it was wearing stopped her heart. She slowly turned to look again, hoping she imagined it. She hadn’t.

Draped around the walker’s decaying neck was the familiar black, white, and turquoise scarf.

She scanned the perimeter, panic rising in her. He couldn’t be here; it would be so stupid to come back here. A flash from the corner of a rundown building caught her attention, she squinted to see a figure half hidden there, rotating a small mirror to catch the sun. She moved closer to the fence, and the man stepped out from the building. Aaron. She relaxed a little, selfishly grateful it was not Daryl putting his life in danger. She shook her head at him as if to say, not now. She tapped her wrist where a watch would be, and held up three fingers, then shifted them into a circle. Thirty minutes, she willed him to understand. He nodded and disappeared completely behind the building.

Thirty minutes later, she was hobbling away from a disappointed Negan through the gates and toward the buildings across the street from the Sanctuary. He had been expecting a hot and heavy round in the stairs with her when she told him she’d seen something suspicious in the town. She suspected just a loose walker but wanted to check it out. He protested, but she’d made a solid argument for needing to get her sea legs back. She needed the practice. As she veered left, heading toward an alley two buildings away from where she’d seen Aaron, she heard light footsteps behind her. She grinned to herself as she picked up her pace and ducked around the building. She moved as quickly as she could around buildings, down alleys, seemingly lost and wandering, until she found the cracked door of the building Aaron had been hiding behind. She was met with stairs, and took them to the first landing, where she found another door cracked open. She had just stepped through it when she heard the outside door squeak open behind her.

She located Aaron in the second room on the right and as quickly as possible whispered “We are not alone. Speak carefully.”

Aaron squinted and blinked at her as he processed what she’d said. She began the conversation in a hushed voice, “What are you doing here? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Because that is what will happen if they find you sneaking around out here.”

“Are you okay?” he replied. “Some Saviors came looking for Daryl, said he’d run away.  We wanted to see if you were still here, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You shouldn’t have come here. Don’t let them see you when you leave.” She turned to leave.

“Come with me,” Aaron said. She halted and turned to face him again.

“Why would I?” she asked coldly.

“Why would you stay here? These people… Negan…,” Aaron searched for the words, “you’re better than this. Better than them. You belong with us.”

She scoffed. “I’m right where I should be.”

Aaron searched her face, and she softened it a little. She had quickly liked Aaron; he was such a genuine person. “I’m not going back with you,” she said, more gently this time.

As she turned again to leave, Aaron grabbed her by the arm. Their eyes met, and she saw fierce warning in them. “We’re going to fight, Y/N. Soon. We will not hesitate to take down anyone on his side. You should come back.”

“Aaron,” she gave her own warning, “You can’t fight him. Numbers are not on your side, and you’ve lost enough people. Don’t lose more for no reason.”

She pulled her arm from his grip and made for the door. When she got to the threshold and saw no one in the hall, she turned to Aaron one more time, with a plea in her eye.

“Give me a couple of days. To talk to him, try to convince him to negotiate with Rick. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Aaron gave her one short nod. She left.

-------

She found Negan and Dwight talking in low voices in the courtyard when she came through the gate. She should have guessed that little weasel was the one following her, now giving a full report of what he’d heard from her meeting with Aaron. Negan gave an order and Dwight nodded and disappeared inside the building, leaving her limping toward Negan alone.

“I don’t see any walker blood on you,” Negan said, giving her a once over.

“I don’t appreciate you having me followed. Especially not by him,” she replied, jerking her chin in the direction Dwight had gone.

“I don’t like being lied to,” he replied shortly.

“What did he tell you?”

“That we’re going to war,” he replied as he moved to the door and held it open, indicating she should join him inside. She saw a couple of guys hanging around a few feet past the entrance. She stopped as she entered the building, and faced Negan as he entered behind her.

“You don’t have to go to war, Negan,” she said, sincerity flooding her voice. “You could meet with Rick, find a solution that works for all of us to keep the peace. Work out a trade deal with him. Not everything has to be a fight.”

“This does.”

“Negan,” she touched his arm, “aren’t you tired of this? Aren’t you tired of losing our people?” The term struck her as odd – our people. But they were her people, too. They had become her people. She knew the guys here, knew their families, where they’d come from and what they’d been through. She’d spent months getting to know them, and she even liked a good number of them. “He kills our guys, you kill his, is it going to go on and on forever?”

“No, I am not tired, and no it will not go on and on forever. We are going to end this, for real this time.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t just make that decision; you can’t just ignore other options because you and Rick aren’t done measuring your dicks. We’ve lost too many people already.”

Negan looked at the guys standing nearby, who had not even tried to hide that they were eavesdropping. When they saw him looking at them, they immediately found themselves needed somewhere else.

“In private,” Negan looked at her, furious, “you can say whatever the hell you want to me, but you question me in front of my guys again,” he looked pointedly where the men had been standing, then moved in close to her as he said “I will shut. your. shit. down. Are we clear?”

She did not break his stare.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, move your ass. You have an assembly to join.”

She entered the large warehouse area and proceeded down the stairs to join the large group of Saviors and workers gathered there. She noticed the two guys who’d heard her conversation with Negan gathered with a group of other guys, talking lowly and watching her as she passed them. Telling them what she’d said to Negan, no doubt. One thing about the Saviors, she could count on them all to be busybodies and gossips.

Negan began from his place on the platform above the assembly, briefly explaining that Rick and his “merry band” were planning on coming for them, and it was time to put an end to them. She waited patiently, watching the crowd as they began whispering and grumbling amongst themselves. The mood of the room shifted - the dissatisfaction was almost tangible. Those busybodies had done fast work.  

She raised her hand, willing herself not to shake, not to show the overwhelming sense of fear she felt. This is what she’d been working toward for months.

Negan saw her hand, his eyes found hers, and he could have burned holes into her with the look behind them.

“I am not currently taking questions,” he said curtly. Everyone turned to see who he was speaking to.

“I don’t have a question,” she said, her voice miraculously unshaken. “More of a statement – I think we should take a vote.”

“A vote?” he answered in surprise.

“Yes. You and Rick have been at each other for months now. He’s killed way more of our people than we have of his. We should vote if we want to continue fighting him.”

“We don’t vote here,” Negan said, at a near laugh. “In case you are confused, this has never been, and never will be a democracy. If I say you are going to fight, you are going to fight.”

“Why are we even doing this? They don’t have a food source, they don’t have any weapons, we already took those. They aren’t really giving us anything. This is about nothing but you and your pride. He doesn’t want to keep kissing your ass, and you’re pissed off about it. If you won’t let us vote, then I won’t sit by and watch these people, my friends, die for your sick games and your pride.”

She could hear the murmurs growing in volume around her, felt the tension as everyone waited to see what Negan would do.

“You know where the door is,” he said as he gestured behind him. “No one is forcing anyone to stay here. But if you want to continue living the lovely, easy life you’ve seemed to grow accustomed to, you will fall. in. line.” Each word of his dripping with rage and threat.

“I’m not being unreasonable, Negan,” she pressed, “I just want you to consider less drastic options. I just want the bloodshed to end.”

Negan stared at her, rage nearly visibly radiating from him. Low agreements began filling the room.

After what felt like several minutes of a hate-filled staring contest, she began pushing through the crowd toward the exit.

“I can’t be part of it,” she said as she passed under his perch on the bridge, “I can’t watch you get us all killed.”

She left the building and began walking toward the vehicles parked outside. She heard the doors open behind her and turning, saw three women rushing toward her. “We want to go with you!” Tanya all but yelled at her as Negan’s remaining wives caught up to her.

They hadn’t made it to a vehicle yet when the doors opened again, and men began trickling out - a few at first, then more and more -all heading for their own bikes and trucks and muttering and griping. By the time the wives had loaded into the old SUV she pointed them to, the yard was filled with what looked like every Savior from the assembly, all preparing their own vehicles.

She did not try to hide her grin as she drove through the gates of the Sanctuary, and watched as the yard emptied behind her, following. She was almost giddy - it had worked so perfectly.

-------

No one was there when Rick and the small army he had gathered came to take Negan. They rounded each corner confused, finding every hall, every room, completely empty. Even the workers had abandoned the place, gathering supplies and food, first.

They found Negan sitting alone in his room, sipping his whiskey on his couch. He put up no fight as Rick tied him up and brought him back to Alexandria, locking him in the cell Morgan had built.

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 3

A Negan Series

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings - not too much in this one. Adult themes and some language.

Feedback is always welcome! This series is challenging me for sure, and I'm loving it. Every time I work on it it gets a little longer and starts heading a direction that was unexpected even to me. I hope you'll hang in with me! I think it'll be worth it in the end.

Three days. That’s how long she’d been here. Three days of watching, waiting, learning. Three exhausting days of pretending to want to be one of them and taking advantage of every second alone to search for Daryl, which hadn’t been many. Between the dinners with Negan, and being stuck in the wives’ room, she had only had a few hours yesteday and today to explore. Three damn days in the enemy’s home and all she had to show for it was a wedding ring. Married to a monster.

She had searched every hall she could reasonably claim that she’d gotten lost in while looking her room, or the bathroom, or the kitchen, or whatever else she could think of. After three days, that excuse was losing merit - she should be more familiar with this place by now. Her heart was racing as she tiptoed, barefoot, down another empty hall of closed doors, quietly trying each doorknob. Locked. Locked. Locked. Leaning her ear against the doors, she couldn’t hear anything or anyone inside.

She tried the next. Another locked door. She was starting to lose heart; this hall was yet again a dead end. Would she ever find where they were keeping him? She twisted the next knob – locked. She sighed, glancing at the next door, when something caught her eye. Light. Two doors down at the corner of the corridor, streaming into the hall from…an open door? She flattened herself against the door in front of her, quieting her breath and listening for any sound of someone in the open room. After several minutes frozen there, she tiptoed closer, stopping every few steps to listen again. As she approached, she noticed a red chair against the opposite wall. It sat empty, facing the open door. Flattened against the wall at the edge of the door she paused one last time, before slowly creeping around to peer in.

The apartment before her was small. There was a sink and counters against one wall, a single bed, a chair, and a metal rack of clothes – mostly flannel button down shirts. No people. She ducked inside to get a better look. The apartment was well stocked. A toaster oven, a tv, lamps, a bookcase full of books, and she noticed a few potted plants. The furniture was well used, but slightly dusty. There was no evidence of anything personal in this room, nothing bought or collected like the other rooms she’d snuck into. No evidence anyone had been here recently. This room was waiting for an inhabitant, she realized. She was about to turn and leave when she heard footsteps coming around the corner. Low voices, male, were growing closer.

Her heart racing, she quickly surveyed the room again, this time searching for the best hiding spot. Under the bed wasn’t an option, the mattress was laid on stacks of wood crates. There were not enough clothes on the rack to hide behind. The cabinets on the wall were too small for her to fold into. The footsteps were getting closer, she only had one option.

She ducked behind the solid door just as she heard a voice greet the approaching steps. “Dwighty boy” she heard, and dread filled her. That was Negan’s voice.  He instructed someone to leave so he could speak with Dwight, and she heard rustling of steps outside the door. She squeezed in close and peeked through the crack of the open hinged door. Her heart stopped.

There he was. Daryl. Three days, not even a hint or whisper of him, and now here he was, less than four feet away from her.

---

She’d hoped when Negan had agreed on her first night to let her try out for the Saviors that she’d be able to ask someone about Daryl. Or that she’d be able to talk to any of them at all, learn anything about the place. She’d had no such luck.

She awoke on her second day in the Sanctuary hopeful and eager to start exploring. She dressed in the most practical clothes she could find in her wardrobe, and even asked the guard at the wives’ door for some boots. He’d obtained them for her, just in time to dawn them before… sitting. And waiting. And waiting. She asked him if she’d been sent any instructions on where to go or who to meet with about training or a job. He told her that her orders would come. So, she’d continued to wait.

The wives had pulled her into different activities in the meantime. Scrabble was a favorite of Frankie’s, and they introduced her to their “spa day” ritual, which she gathered was every day. Homemade face masks, manicures, makeup before dinner. It seemed expected of them to be beautiful, and at least it was a way to pass the time. Her impatience grew, however, with every hour that passed. Each wife often left the dorm to walk around the compound, getting some movement and some air, or smoke a cigarette. They seemed to have unquestioned access to wherever they needed to go. She took advantage of that when it was obvious that she wouldn’t be missed. She’d come up empty handed on those brief searches, and each time she returned, she’d asked the guard if her orders had come. He’d just shook his head.

By the time the instructions came for her to join Negan for dinner a second night, she was fuming.

She stomped into his apartment with as much attitude as her high heels would allow, her arms crossed, demanding to know why she had been cooped up in that room all day when he’d agreed to let her be part of a Savior team.

Negan’s answering smile didn’t meet his eyes, and it made her uneasy.

“Good evening to you, too,” he drawled, holding out her chair at the table for her. “Would you like to eat before you continue to rip me a new asshole, or should we do this on empty stomachs?”

She huffed as she sat and began piling her plate with the potpie in front of her.

“We’ve only been married for a day and you’re already angry with me?” Negan teased her.

She willed herself calm and forced an apologetic smile on her face. She needed to stay on his good side, throwing a fit this early might raise questions or make him change his mind about her access. She needed Negan to trust her.

“I’m sorry,” she began, “I have always had a quick temper. I told you, I’m not great at sitting around. I got impatient. I apologize.”

Again, his answering smile didn’t meet his eyes, but he seemed satisfied with her apology.

“I’d like to play a game to start our evening,” he said after a quiet few minutes of eating. “To get to know one another a little better. We are married now, after all.”

“What game?” she asked around a mouthful.

“A drinking game,” he replied, standing and walking to his bar cart in the corner. When he returned, he brought two shot glasses and a decanter of an amber colored liquid.  “I’ll ask you a question, and if you answer - honestly - you get to ask me a question in return. If you don’t answer, or if I think your answer is unsatisfactory, you take a shot and I get to ask another question.”

“I see. And do the same rules apply to you?”

“Sure,” he replied, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I take the rules of games very seriously.”

This made her nervous. She had no way of knowing what he would ask. She could always skip the question if she didn't like it, but too many questions skipped would certainly raise suspicions. She steeled herself as she took her last few bites of food, preparing for the worst.

When she raised her head, she found Negan watching her. She nodded and plastered a smile to her face.

“Sounds sexy. Let’s play.”

He grinned as he poured two shot glasses of the drink and slid one across the table to her.

“My first question,” he said, “is how long were you part of Rick’s group?”

She silently released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She felt a little relief at how simple the question was. She recounted the basic story of coming upon Rick's group in a small church in Georgia several weeks before they found Alexandria, and traveling with them to Virginia, looking for the family of one of their guys.

“How did you all find Alexandria?” Negan asked as her short story came to an end.

“I think it’s my turn for a question,” she teased him, “unless you want to skip that do a shot?”

He grinned in response and gestured for her to ask her question.

This was more pressure than answering. It was a good opportunity to get information, maybe even find out where Daryl is, if she could ask casually enough... She would have to be very careful how she approached it. She decided to start slowly, not too eager to get telling information from him.

“How many communities do you have working for you?” She asked, after some contemplation. Maybe a train of questions that make her seem curious about his operation would seem less suspicious when she got to Daryl.

“A lot,” he answered proudly, “I won't waste time counting them all. It’s a lot though. It has to be, to feed all our people.” A lot. There were a lot of other communities nearby. Potential allies. She filed that information away for later.

“How did your group find Alexandria?” He asked again, now that it was his turn.

“They found us. Their scouts had been watching us on the road. All but starved to death, desperate, and nearly feral. They took us in and gave us jobs. Have you always been the leader of the Saviors?”

Negan’s dark eyes stared at his glass for a long minute. She wasn’t sure he was going to answer, when he finally said, “No, but the guy before me was weak, he didn’t know what he was doing. It’s been me for long enough, and we’re all better for it. You’ve seen what we’ve become. I got us here.”

There was a pause as she took in what he said. He wasn’t wrong. She didn't really want to be here, but she had to admit that it worked. People were safe and fed, and there was a sense of order. Had she found this before Rick’s group, she wouldn’t have hesitated to become part of it.

“If you only got there a month ago, how did Rick end up in charge?” Negan asked.

“Who said Rick was in charge?” she countered.

Negan gave her a pointed look.

“It wasn’t on purpose, necessarily. There was an attack from some crazy outside group – not your guys. A bunch of walkers got past the walls; lost a lot of people - including the town’s leader. Rick is just the sort of guy that others follow, so the natural option was for him to step into the role.”

She hesitated a moment. “What’s your plan for them?” she asked, risking the question. Hoping it felt like an organic follow up. Negan drained his shotglass, not giving anything away. Damn. “What’s your plan for Daryl?” she was risking even more, now, but she wasn’t sure she’d have an opening again.

“I lost a lot of good fighters,” he answered. “I need more, and I like his spirit. He’ll make a great Savior once I wear him down.” She buried the dread that rose in her at his words and willed her heart to stop pounding.

Now his turn, Negan asked her “Who is Rick’s secondhand man?”

Realization hit her like a slap to the face. She should have guessed sooner his purpose for playing this game. She’d been blind, too focused on her own agenda to bother considering his. She’d have to be more careful about her answers now. If she revealed too much about Rick or Alexandria, she could put her friends in even more danger.

“All these questions about Rick…” she said, with a raised eyebrow and a hint of seduction in her voice, “I’m starting to feel a little jealous…” She took her glass and threw the shot to the back of her throat. She coughed a little as she swallowed. Whiskey had always done that to her.

Negan searched her face before grinning and continuing, “I would hate to have my new wife feeling neglected this soon. Tell me, what did you do before the world fell?”

“That's more like it,” she said with a slight curl of her lip. “Although a little difficult to answer. I worked a lot of jobs; I was putting myself through grad school. Took as many part-time jobs as I could.  I had two semesters left, and was already working on my thesis when the outbreak began.”

“Psychology,” she added, as she saw him start to speak again. He confirmed that was his next question with a slight nod of his head. “Same question to you,” she asked, settling back in her chair to keep the room from spinning. She hadn’t done a shot in ages, and her time on the road left her smaller than she ever was during her college partying era. Another shot or two and she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to answer anymore questions.

“I worked with kids,” Negan responded. “Gym teacher and coach.”

She didn’t try to hide a look of surprise, which made Negan chuckle. “I get that a lot when I answer that question.” She would have to work through that information later, figure out what that said about him as a person. The types of people who chose teaching positions… well, it begged the question what had happened to form him into... this? She didn’t have time to flesh that thought out as Negan launched into his next inquiry.

“You studied psychology, and you spent some decent time with him… if you were me, what would your next move against Rick be?”

Shit. She walked right into that one. How was she so off her game tonight?

She searched his face for a minute, took the decanter of whiskey and filled her glass. She met his glare as she gulped the shot down, stifling her cough this time. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she said, “I left their group to join you, but I don’t hate them. I’ll follow orders out there, but you can’t expect me to plot against them in here.”

Negan chewed his lip as he studied her, narrowing his eyes. She waited for his next question or her dismissal. She hoped for the latter.

“If you were me, what would your next move against Rick be?” he asked again, a malicious tone encroaching his voice.

She filled her glass again, but Negan’s hand appeared on its rim, pressing it to the table as she tried to lift it. “I’d like you to answer this one.” He said, threat in his voice despite the polite smile he wore.

As she made to protest, he cut her off. “You see, you asked to be more than just my wife - which stung a little, I won’t lie. But I am a generous husband, I like my wives to be happy. They always did say, ‘happy wife, happy life.’ I’m not one to argue with an age-old adage, but in order to do that for you, to make you happy… give you a job, if that’s really what you want… I gotta know what value you bring. I gotta know if you can do more than just take orders - I have enough obedient dogs out there. You’ve seen the way they bow to me. I don’t need another dog. What I need… is a wolf. A wolf, or a wife. The choice is yours.”

She stared at him, working to keep the rage she felt from burning through her glare. Bastard.

“I’ll give you until dinner tomorrow. Come back with something good, and I do mean something impressive, or settle in as a stay home wife, dear. You asked what I’ll do with Daryl – I guess you get to make that decision. I’d like him to become one of us, but what I need is information, and if you don’t give it, then I’ll get it from him however I have to."

"You’re dismissed.”

---

She’d played that conversation over in her head too many times to count since returning to her room last night. She worked through all her options, even options that weren’t options. How could she live with herself if she gave him all her friends’ weaknesses? How could she live with herself if she didn’t?

Seeing Daryl now, slumped in that red chair, staring into the room she hid in - her heart broke. He was filthy, his hair a level of greasy that was bad even for Daryl. His eyes were cloudy, dark bags hanging under them like he hadn’t slept in days. She shuddered to think what could put him in such a state - her strong, tough Daryl. She knew he wasn’t breaking, but she couldn’t tell how much he had left in him. He was so ragged, so run down.

Her decision was made. She wouldn’t be the cause of more pain for him. She could never forgive herself for that. For him, she could turn into whatever she needed to be. For him, she could be a wolf.

They’d see just how much of a wolf she was.

The Shower

a/n - I am nearing the end of season 6 in my rewatch, and this idea has been stuck in my head since ep. 12 in season 5. I am hyper-fixated on Daryl right now, and I am hoping writing these will get him out of my system!

Daryl x reader (female anatomy described)

Summary: Daryl needs a shower, and you encourage him to take one... with you.

Warnings: smut, 18+ only, m x f, p in v, fingering, stroking, unprotected sex, mentions of loss, killing, hunting

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl had not said much to you, or anyone really, since you joined the group. They took you in a few weeks back, when you stumbled across an old church they were hiding in. You'd learn to read them all pretty quickly (you were good at that), trying to figure out how to fit in this tight-knit group.  It was clear they were all hurting. They’d lost a safe place recently, you’d been told. They’d lost people when it fell and they got separated, and since joining them, you’d seen them lose more. Sasha had lost her brother and her boyfriend; Abraham had lost a mission (you still needed to figure out what that was about). You were there when Maggie learned she’d lost her sister. That one seemed to hit hard for everyone in the group, especially for Daryl, you’d noticed.

You didn’t mind that Daryl didn't talk much, it was nice in the moments you found yourself alone with him (which seemed to happen more than not). It was not expected that you'd talk about your past, nor did you expect him to talk about his. You both liked it that way. It seemed to gravitate you both to each other – this silent understanding that you’d both lost people, and keeping to yourself was protection. So, you didn’t fully understand who Beth was to Daryl, but you did understand that he was hurting. For some reason, you could not shake the desperate urge to help him - to fix the hurt - or at the very least distract him from it. And now, seemingly safe in this miraculous compound, safe behind the big walls of what they called Alexandria, he seemed more on edge than anyone. Even Rick - which was saying something. You needed to help him. Watching Daryl sulking in a corner on the front porch while everyone dispersed to explore and get to know our new home, you overheard a conversation that gave you an idea.

“Have you taken a shower yet?” you heard Carol ask him.

“Mmhmm,” you heard him respond, obviously a lie. You could write “wash me” in the dirt and filth accumulated on his skin.

“Take a shower. I’m gonna wash that vest. We need to keep up appearances, even you,” Carol firmly suggested to him as she walked away to meet neighbors and begin her assigned job in the community. You heard Daryl mumble a response; you assumed he declined the shower when you heard Carol retort that she would hose him down in his sleep.

The house was empty now, as you made your way to the porch. This was a bold plan, you knew that. Your heart was pounding in your chest just thinking it through, but you had little doubt it would work. You’d had weeks on the road with this crew, and as time marched, you’d found yourself with Daryl more and more, both of you finding excuses to be alone. Excuses like scouting ahead together, or hunting together when you were all desperate for a meal. You’d become almost friends, and you were confident you could read him well enough to know how he’d respond to this. You hoped.

“Hey,” you drawled as you approached the archer on the porch, cleaning his crossbow. He looked up at you in a silent greeting. “Can I show you something?” you asked, tilting your head toward the door to indicate it was inside. You saw Carol look back at both of you as he put down his weapon and followed you inside.

You lead him upstairs, and through what was presumably the primary bedroom of the house, into the large attached bathroom. “Ya need ta show me somethin’ in the bathroom?” he asked suspiciously as you took his hand and lead him further in.  

“You trust me, right?” you asked him, looking in his eyes, not letting go of his hand. He held your stare for a moment before responding, “yeh, I guess.” Your eyes traveled to his lips and lingered there for a moment, and you could feel tension building in the room. You moved in slowly, meeting his eyes again as you got closer, and lightly kissed him on the lips. He tensed. You pulled back just a hair, searching his eyes for what he could be thinking, your breath mingling with his, and went in for a second kiss. This time, he returned the kiss. Both of you gentle at first, and then both seeming to get hungrier for it. You pushed your tongue against his lips and he opened, letting you in. He pushed your tongue back with his and made his way into your mouth, his hands moving to your waist and pulling you in close as he devoured you.

Yes. This was going to work.

You smiled a bit against his mouth, and teasingly pulled away from the kiss, backing up toward the large walk-in shower. You opened the glass door, and leaned in to turn the water on. Returning to Daryl, you ran your hands up his chest from his abdomen, slipping your hands under the shoulders of his vest and removing as it as your mouth found his again. Your hands moved to his shirt, slowly unbuttoning each one from the top.  He pulled back from the kiss to look at you, searching your face for a clue as to what you were thinking. A sultry smile made its way to the corner of your mouth as you grabbed your shirt at the hem, and took your shirt and bra off in one sweeping motion. He stared at your breasts for a moment, taking in the way they heaved as you breathed in and out quickly, the humidity from the steam and the passion of the moment quickening your breath.

That was all he needed – he quickly removed his shirt, shoes, and pants while you did the same, and then he nearly ran to close the distance between you and cover your mouth with his again. You could feel his length pushing against your stomach as your kisses grew sloppy. With one of his hands wrapped around your waist, and one tangling his fingers through your hair, you could already feel the heat growing in your core, wetting you. You smiled against his mouth again, and moved away from him. “Hang on a sec,” you said, a bit out of breath, as you bent over and collected the discarded clothes on the floor. You moved toward the door, tossed the clothes out, and shut and locked the bathroom door behind you. As you turned, you saw a discouraged look leaving Daryl’s face, and changing his expression to a ravenous one.

You grabbed his hand again as you moved past him into the shower, and standing under the steaming stream of hot water, pulled him against you again. You both quickly resumed your hungry kisses, and as the water washed some of the dirt away from Daryl’s face and neck, you followed the clean path with your mouth. Moving to his chin, then his neck, and slowly to nibble his ear. He groaned, and it was all you could do to keep from jumping on his hard member right then, but you wanted to make this last. You kept nibbling as you reached your hand down and found his shaft, and gently began pulling and stroking it. He responded by pushing you toward the wall and finding your lips with his again. You bit his bottom lip slightly and you stroked longer, and watched as his eyes rolled back in his head slightly. He moved his kisses down your neck and lingered there as he lifted your leg and placed it around his hip.

He held your leg there with one hand, gripping and kneading your thigh and his other hand slowly swept down your side to the front of your stomach, and further. He slowly cupped his hand when he reached your opening, and began sliding his fingers up and down, and in circular motions within your folds. He grunted deeply as he felt the slick that had built for him there. Slowly, he inserted a finger and began rubbing your clit in and out of your opening. You moaned, and then again, as he inserted a second finger, still sucking and kissing your neck. One of your hands slightly clawing his back in response, the other combing through the hair at the base of his neck, you pulled his hair slightly until his head titled backwards and you could feel the water of the shower soaking through his hair. He groaned as you pulled his hair again, and you could no longer stand it. You needed him inside you. Now.

You pulled his hair with one hand as your other hand pushed him backwards, until his legs touched the built-in, tiled bench at the other end of the shower, and he sat. With the warm water streaming down your back, you placed your knees on either side of his thighs, and looked down. His member at its full length now, you gulped at the size of him. You looked into his eyes, and grinned wickedly. He raised an eyebrow in question at you, as you used your hand to guide his tip to your entrance, and slowly sank down onto his cock. He filled you completely, and you had to take your time moving further down as you adjusted to his length. When you had him sheathed to the hilt, you met his eyes with yours again, tangling your fingers into his hair, and began rocking your hips back and forth. You watched as his eyes rolled back in his head again, as you rocked deeper. Your eyes never leaving his, you picked up the pace and felt your orgasm building already. You closed your eyes, throwing your head back and groaning as you ground your hips more and more. You felt his head lean forward and his mouth find the top of your breast. He slowly made his way down your breast with his lips until he found your nipple, and began sucking hard. Your moan was deep and loud in response. He nipped a bit with his teeth, and you felt the build of your orgasm reaching its peak. He sucked again, and thrust upwards with his hips, hitting a spot inside you that you weren’t expecting, and you felt your release shatter you. You gasped and cried out as you came, your arms shaking as your hand stroked his hair.

You felt him grin against your breast as he slowly stood, raising his mouth to yours again, and turning you until your back was pressed against the glass shower wall. He held your thighs around his waist as he began pumping into you, his movements becoming harder and faster, frantic as he chased his own orgasm. He leaned his head against your neck, and you felt his hot breath and he gasped and moaned. You clawed your fingers down his back as he continued grinding into you, making you see stars as the length of him hit every wall inside you. You could hear the wet sound of him thrusting in and out of you, in and out, slamming into you and making the glass wall shake. You felt his movements stutter a bit, and felt him twitch inside you as he let out a low roar, pumping hard two more times before spilling his seed inside you. You both froze there, panting and grinning, both coming down from your orgasms.

When he finally set you back down on your feet, your legs wobbled a bit as you moved to the shampoo, and offered it to him. You spent the rest of the shower cleaning yourselves and trying to get your breath back, shyly stealing glances at each other. When you were both done and drying yourselves with the soft, fluffy towels you found in a cabinet, Daryl broke the quiet.

“Wha’ was that for?” he asked you, not meeting your eyes.

“What do you mean?” you asked back.

“Ya brought me straight up here an’ started that outta nowhere. Why?”

“You mean other than because I wanted to?” you replied, “I guess because I knew you needed it. A release, I mean. You’ve been pent up and tense since...” you trailed off, not wanting to mention Beth’s name, “and it seemed like letting you blow off some steam might help.” And after a beat, you added, “and I didn’t want Carol to hose you off in your sleep.”

You heard him let out a breath like a chuckle, before adding, “I needed it, too, Daryl. I needed you.”

You met his eyes and you could read it there, a thank you. And something else behind it, was it affection?

He moved toward the door and peaked out. “Wha’ the hell? Our clothes ‘er gone.”

“Good. I was hoping Carol caught on and would grab them,” you reply back with a sinister smile.

“What ‘er we ‘spose to do now?” he asked, indignant.

“Well, you can sit in this bathroom wrapped in your towel until she comes back with clean clothes, or you can leave the towel in here with mine, and we can go into that bedroom and find some ways to pass the time,” you said with a wink, dropping your towel and sauntering past him into the bedroom.

He watched you for a moment, his eyes raking up and down your naked form, before dropping his towel and following after you.

“My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles and Proudfoots.”

Or, if you’re in a hurry,

“Sup nerds!”

“Girls gays and theys” <- uninclusive while trying to be inclusive. Bad. Makes me uncomfortable.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and other distinguished guests” <- inclusive but far, far too formal

“Alrighty gamers” <- Incisive of everyone, informal, and fun to say.

I dream about Jareth, sometimes. I always wake up aching for that world and this man.

Labyrinth - 1986

NEW WRITER ALERT.

What an excellent first fic! I got all tingly reading it. Can’t wait to read more from this talented writer!

DISTRACTED

2 Nov 2023

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Explicit, implied sexual content, sexual language, swearing

Setting: Alexandria

Summary: Upon realising how potent your little infatuation is with a certain archer, you decide to act on it. 

Author Note: My first ever fan fiction. I had this idea to express how I'd think sexual tension with Daryl could potentially manifest.....it is definitely harder than it seems to try and capture already existing characters and write them successfully. I’m a bit unsure about the dialogue, and the ending feels a bit rushed, but I hope it works.  - Sól

Never did you believe that these ‘chemicals' you always heard about were capable of affecting a person in such a way. You always used to think that being infatuated to this degree was a farce, a fun exaggeration of the truth. But my god were you wrong. And perhaps you've been wrong for a while.

That's what you realised sitting amongst your family in your shared Alexandrian home. You had been here for a couple of months now, and everyone was comfortable enough to let their guards down and enjoy a domesticated, casual occasion. Everyone was happy. You could hear Abraham's hearty laugh bouncing off of the walls. You could make out Glenn cracking some joke to the right of you. Rick was relaxed for once, smiling at the scene before him. Rosita and Tara were conversing to your left, but you'd checked out of the gossip session after getting caught up in the sight across the room.

You hadn't even meant to get distracted.

You swear.

You also swore you could hear Rosita asking you something, but alas, those chemicals in your brain fogged all of your other senses.

With his arms crossed, you watched as his hand smoothed down from the top of his shoulder, so tantalisingly slowly, down to his elbow and back up again at an ever agonising pace. You stared, enraptured, as his strong, muscular palm very lightly gripped his bulging bicep absentmindedly, while he nodded in response to a very animated Aaron. 

That was something you liked about Daryl. No, it was something that you realised made you embarrassingly aroused; the squareness of his hands and definition in his arms had you reeling. There was something in particular about passing by Daryl, whether he was tinkering with his bike, or back at the prison working the gates, or simply walking about the streets in Alexandria, that really got you going — his forearms shifting when twisting a screwdriver, his triceps flexing when aiming his crossbow, and the sheen of sweat glistening from his shoulders in the hot heat…

Reluctantly dragging your eyes from his arms and across his broad chest, your eyes met his two steely blues which were now looking directly at you.

Resisting the urge to look away, it was as if time stopped. You felt confined to the lounge by his stare, and it was exhilarating. The tiny smirk which lifted the corner of Daryl's mouth had flipped a flirtatious switch in you, and your eyes began to traverse the length of his body as if your life depended on it.

Slowly crossing your legs and slipping your hand down your leg and across your thigh, Daryl continued his equally invasive perusal of your body as your gaze travelled lower and lower down his. The tension became palpable. 

A myriad of dirty thoughts came to light, as you not-so inconspicuously trailed the waistband of his black jeans. Now that you mentioned it, the belt holding them up looked a little tight, as if whatever tent that was underneath was just about to protrude and —

“What are you so hot and bothered by Y/N?” Tara cheekily asked while trying catch a glimpse of whatever it was causing you to blush. 

“I think we already know the answer to that” Rosita said. Still in a bit of a daze, you uncrossed your legs and covered your cheeks to try and subtly dissipate the redness there. 

“I’m not. ‘Was just thinking about stuff…” You murmured. Rosita put a hand on your leg and leaned in to whisper something. 

“I bet. But it definitely wouldn’t have anything to do with the surly, tomato-faced man over there, would it?”. You grasped whatever courage you had left and snuck a peek at Daryl, who was now hiding behind a glass of something, having moved to another side of the house. You noticed the glass he was holding wasn’t very effective at hiding his slight fluster. 

You sighed. “No, it doesn’t.” You deadpanned. “In your dreams ‘Sita. It’s not like that.”

“Oh, but it is” Tara interjected. “Look, we’ve known each other for a while. I’d like to say we’re good enough friends for us to know that—” 

“You have a fat crush on Daryl. And everyone knows he has a fat crush on you.” Rosita finished.

You were usually a very honest and down to earth, but now, that couldn’t be further from reality. You decided you could play this two ways. You could keep denying your sexual interest in the man. Or, you could admit to your imagined undressing of him and succumb to their teasing. You decided with the former.  

“I’m not even going to entertain that. Just because we’re good mates, doesn’t mean anything but that. Mates. Friends.” You explained. You half-knew they could see through your facade, but you trudged forward anyway, digging yourself into a hole of your own making. Pointing at Rosita, you added “Plus, as you said, the dude’s surly as fuck. He’s more concerned with trying to squint like Zoolander than anything else…”

“Y/N likes Daryylll!” Tara sang merrily at an annoyingly high pitch. Her and Rosita laughed, continuing to teasing you for a bit longer. They got back to talking again when they realised you wouldn’t budge, so you utilised the opportunity to find Daryl again. 

There he was, seated in an armchair with his signature, piercing eyes surveying the room. It was like he practiced that squint in the mirror. It was almost as practiced as male models on a runway. ‘Daryl could be a model’ you thought. He had that look about him. He had a gorgeously well built, muscular frame, strong enough to pick you up and throw you, probably. His signature scowl was more like an intense gaze, replicating exactly what you saw of those men in magazines. Except, it was Daryl. He was hotter than all of those men combined. He was the epitome of man. Daryl Dixon was gorgeous. Your smile widened substantially just thinking about it. The throb down below was getting electrifyingly worse. It was hard not to imagine his calloused hands gripping onto both of your spread thighs, descending onto you with those whirling blues and smug curling up of his mouth. He was so incredibly hot, and there was nothing you could do about it.  

You guess you did have a ‘fat’ crush on Daryl. 

Realistically, what was the worst that could happen if you made a move? It wasn’t usually your style to be the first to initiate that sort of thing. But you two had such a deep friendship that a little admission of something more couldn’t ruin it, right? You could feel your heart beating in your chest. Even if he didn’t reciprocate, surely it wouldn’t diminish the bond the two of you shared ever since you met in Atlanta. Worst case scenario, you’d have to distance yourself for a while. That’s not so bad. 

Deciding to be brave, you abruptly got up and grabbed a drink from the table. ‘A bit of liquid courage’ you hoped. Receiving knowing looks from Rosita and Tara, you rolled your eyes at them, only to notice Daryl was gone. Drinking a glass (or two), you approached Carol. You were about to ask her of his whereabouts when she beat you to it. 

“Down the hall, in the kitchen I think” she stated as you approached, with a seductive wink to go with it. She was a very perceptive woman. 

Shooting her a tiny grin, you slowly made your way down the hall. Whether placebo or not, you could feel a slight buzz from the alcohol already. After all, you didn’t drink these days. 

The music was a little bit quieter down here. Psyching yourself up, you made it to the kitchen’s entry, and there you saw him. He detected your presence before you even made it to the door, ever the skilled hunter. 

“Hey…” Daryl said. You leaned against the archway, glass in hand, and smiled. Before you could reply, he grabbed something from the counter and flicked it at your forehead from across the room. It bounced straight off and onto the ground. 

Maintaining eye contact with him, you sipped the rest of your beverage, and placed the glass on the small kitchen island. Picking up what you realised was a blueberry from the ground, you threw it at him with more force than was necessary. He dodged it just in time. 

“That’s not very nice, Daryl” you said lowly, your smile widening. His eyes travelled down your body quickly and back up to your eyes as you got up from your crouched position. “What are you doing here anyway?” You asked, moving into the kitchen to stand next to him and lean on the counter. 

“I was tryna grab more beer”.

You hummed. That switch was flipped again. In the split second you had to come up with a response, you noticed he was gazing upon you with an equal amount of fervour. 

“Are you saying I'm distracting you?” you asked in a sultry tone. Inhaling slowly, you could smell the leather of his vest, and something woody. God did you love it. 

Daryl replied with a soft, low grunt. You slowly moved your hand and rested it on his cheek. Pushing away the thought that he could feel the perspiration emanating from it, you tapped your thumb a few times on the mole above his lip.

“You know, for as long as we’ve known each other, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how cute your mole is”. 

“Cute?” Daryl questioned breathily. “ I aint’ cute”.

He broke from your gaze and looked down at the proximity between you both. Removing your hand and placing it next to his on the counter, you lightly shook your head. 

“I think you’re wrong about that.”

Biting his lip in that little way he usually does, Daryl looked back up, seemingly gaining a bit of confidence. He pinched the bottom hem of your shirt, fiddling with a loose thread near your hip.

“Well, I think ya look cute in this shirt…couldn’t stop looking at ya before…” he trailed off. 

Getting imperceptibly closer, you could hear Daryl’s soft, shallow breaths. His eyes flicked to your lips and back up. You gently placed your other hand onto his one at your hip, and trailed your fingers along Daryl’s forearm until they reached the crook of his elbow.

“Well, if you liked what you were seeing so much, why didn’t you come over?” 

His hand was now fully splayed on your lower hip, thumb caressing the space there.

“Could say the same ‘bout ya”.

His little smirk shot arousal straight through your body. Suddenly you were aware of how hot it was in the kitchen. The space around you cracked with anticipation. The soft moonlight filtering through the kitchen window juxtaposed the heat permeating between your bodies. You could see the desire glimmering in Daryl’s eyes. 

“I’m here now…” you breathed. 

Dragging his hand up to your waist, Daryl pulled you closer. Your arm moved upwards along his toned bicep and shoulder to rest gently on the side of his neck. You could feel the intense pulse of blood through his veins, making you acutely aware of the intense throbbing making its way to your core.

“The things ya do to me woman…” Daryl husked. 

Pulling your bodies completely flush, you inched your face closer to his. Wrapping both of your arms around his neck, you whispered in his ear.

“Maybe you should do something about it…”

In an instant, his other hand came up to hold your jaw, and his lips desperately connected with yours. At first it was a bit rushed, but you blamed that on the adrenaline pumping through your bodies. He took your bottom lip into his mouth, and finally the kiss slowed. The hard, fiery melding of your mouths became more intense by the second. It was a delightful push and pull of lip and tongue. You could feel Daryl growing exponentially hard in his pants. As you carded your fingers roughly through his hair, Daryl’s hands smoothed down your back. His hands reached lower and lower, until he had a handful of your backside and —

“Daryl! Did you grab the — oh.” Rick exclaimed.

Too caught up in the moment, the both of you abruptly pulled apart with a loud *pop* sound. Gawking at the impassioned scene before him, Rick’s stunned expression turned knowing. “Uh… I’ll leave you both to it” he said with a half-concealed smile.

As Rick exited, you both turned to look at each other again, still in the same position as before. You were both heaving in breaths of air. A few seconds passed before he broke the silence. 

“Damn girl…”

“That was…woah…” you said a little dreamily. Moving into your lips once again, Daryl gave your butt a hard squeeze. 

“Fuckin’ Rick had to ruin it…” he muttered into your mouth with a bit of feigned disdain. Without breaking the kiss, you bit down on his lip, and dragged your hands down to his chest and fiddled with the collar of his sleeveless shirt. 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t continue this elsewhere…"

Breaking the kiss, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, and gave you the cheekiest smile you’d ever seen. 

“Don’ have ta’ tell me twice girl”

BRB, just inserting myself into all of @cultofdixon’s fic quotes with my boyfriend Daryl.

Y/N: *gifts Daryl a rock*

Daryl: The fuck am I supposed to do with this?

Y/N: Fuck I guess nothing. Give it back if you’re gonna be that way

Daryl: NO