This is entirely self-indulgent. And depending how the show goes, I'll probably make another. Idk. It's for a very specific audience and very much an acquired taste.
Had this little thing pop into my head on the way to school today. Wanted to write it down while it's in me noggin. Then I just ran with it and made this shit.
Warnings, ig: Daryl with Negan, treated like a dog, kidnapping, idk, manipulation?
You are kinda the odd ball around the place. You were strong. No one was denying that. But you had a different kind of strength. Before shit hit the fan, you were a dog trainer. And a damn good one. The kind that helped train police and military dogs.
Meaning, one whistle and you had upwards of eight dogs at your feet, ready for their next move. It made it pretty easy to survive. Having most on alert at once meant no walker could sneak up on you. And, by extention, those around you.
Negan loved this fact. Had recruited you within the first few months of the apocalypse. The dogs, loyal only to you since you hadn't agreed to show Negan how to train one, were a big help in "recruiting" others.
You'd stayed back when they'd gone to get that new group that's been killing Negan's men. Hadn't wanted to risk your dogs getting shot. And once each dog was stationed at their post, you stood just in time for the trucks to return.
All thought went out the window when you saw the person they brought back. Pale, some blood on his shoulder, being dragged away. But... huddled, arms up and close defensively, flinching back when someone else reached for him. Your brain, previously thought hardened from all you'd seen, immediately placed an injured dog in the man's place.
Your hands twitched at your sides. You wanted to go over. Pick him up, get him fed and cleaned. Made sure no injuries will get infected.
You had to turn away. Had to look at your REAL dogs to get your mind off it all. Besides. Lunch was ready soon....
It was a week later that you were put on watch over the prisoner. An easy one. Just had to stand around for a while, making sure no one got in or out. One of your dogs stayed by your side. Sat still just as you'd told them to. When it was time to feed him, one of the wives brought some plate. A decent group of Negan's men had to head out for some sort of fun. Something about another group.
The plate held the "sandwich" for the prisoner. Bread and dog food. You got some on your thumb as you carried it. Intentional or not, you reached down to let the dog lick it off.
You went ahead and shut off that stupid song. It'd been annoying you since the second run through. It wasn't until you got to the new guy's door that you paused.
One look down and one whistle later, you had an apple in your hands. The tray was set aside, the sandwich in one hand and the apple in another. The dog sat beside the door, waiting.
The door opened with a creak. And the surprisingly clothed man sat inside. On the opposite side of the door. Which wasn't far. The room was basically a broom closet.
Crouching by the door, you observed him for a second. Long enough that you saw him shift with discomfort. After another second, you sat down fully, holding out the sandwich. It took a second, but he reached forward enough to take it. Then, after another moment, he bit into it.
The apple was rubbed onto your shirt. Just to clean it off a little. He glanced over every now and again. Under those bangs that reminded you of a starved adolescent dog. One not quite having their footing, figuring out where they stand against the one before them.
You could see him staring at the apple. Even when the sandwich was already half gone, you could tell he could still put down a few more. And it wasn't until he was done that you lowered the apple to the ground. It rolled easily over the smooth concrete. Easily enough that it bumped off his leg.
He started at you for a second, clearly not believing it. But when you did nothing but stare back, he snatched it up and took a big bite out of it. You could see the hints of relief on his face at the real food.
It'd been part of your personal stash, so the guy wouldn't owe it back to anyone but you. Then, you gave a nod and stood. He looked up at you confused for a second before looking away. The door shut again with a similar creak. And no. You didn't immediately turn the music back on.
Negan was somewhat confused when you requested being the one to feed the prisoner more often. But when you gave a somewhat vague, pure explanation of why, he just laughed and waved you out. He gave you every third day.
You did tell him you gave the man, Daryl apparently, the apple. It got another laugh and some joke about not spoiling the new guest. He didn't seem to care. Actually, he seemed almost thrilled. Something about making him more trusting and reliant on you.
That... was nice, you supposed. As long as you wouldn't get in trouble for it.
And it seemed Negan was right. When you'd gone once with D just to see how he does this, you saw how pushed back Daryl was. Which was a little surprising. Because the last two times you were on shift, you could hear the prisoner shuffling around before you even opened the door.
He sat on the floor next to the door during your shift, legs pulled closer like he was trying to sit cross-legged, comfortably. He didn't hesitate anymore to take the food. The sandwich was always first and always eaten. Then, you gave him whatever extra you'd brought that day. The apple, an egg you'd scrambled up that morning, couple grapes, that kinda thing.
Every time he finished, he always did this little sigh and leaned his head against the wall. Those distrusting eyes fell shut and he looked ready for a nap. It made you wanna reach out and pet that hair so much... but you didn't. Not yet.
Negan was sure he'd give in eventually. You'd see then.
Turns out, you didn't have to wait long for your first chance at something similar. Several of your dogs started barking around where the motorcycles were kept. And you hurried over to them, wanting to make sure one of the dumbasses on watch hadn't let a hoard get in or something.
But when you got there, all you saw was them circling one person. Daryl.
They snapped their teeth at him when he tried to jump away from them. And they didn't pause their act, even as a group of Negan's men made a circle around Daryl right outside where the dogs were prowling. One of the dogs, a usually sweetheart of a Doberman, charged just enough to make Daryl fall before backing up again.
One whistle from you and all the dogs stopped, ears straight up as they looked to you. They rushed over the next second, seating themselves next to you. You could see the moment it clicked in Daryl's expression the reach *you* had in this place.
He shuffled back to his feet as Negan came from the shadows, signature whistle of his own that barely made the dogs twitch.
You stood to the side as Negan began his speech. You mumbled a "Negan" when the question was asked about halfway through. It... was a little surprising when Negan didn't start swinging. He'd always been so excited before to start swinging that bat at whoever looked at him wrong. Literally.
Then, when he did start to swing, a fake out thing to see Daryl flinch, which he didn't, you surprised yourself when you took a step forward. You stopped immediately. Didn't stop your shoe from making a sound. Just enough that you could see Negan heard it.
It was impossible not to see that smile widen. The way it did when the man found a new, better angle at control. One hand waved you over.
You gestured for your dogs to lay down, walking over. Negan put a hand on your shoulder, leading you to stand next to the prisoner. Negan looked between you two, clearly entertained by whatever thoughts were running through his head. Then, he gestured to you two with the bat.
"You train dogs, right? Close enough?"
Negan clearly thought this was funny, laughing halfway through. The others joined in, probably imagining the same as Negan.
".. I train *my* dogs. He's D's."
That was probably the wrong part to correct. Or- it'd be the wrong part in the regular world. But from how the others laughed louder, this world wasn't quite as up-tight on what was the correct response to say. Then again... the question as probably as bad as your answer.
"Ya know what? Sure. Have em. I'm get'n tired of waiting anyway." Negan gave a wave to you, shifting so he was mostly standing on one leg. "Of course, that's after his punishment. He *did* still sneak out. You can have him in a few minutes."
Negan left soon after, and it wasn't until then that you finally saw how... *frozen* Daryl was. Ah. Right. The man probably wasn't exactly excited to be a dog. Which was too bad for him. It was probably the only way he'd get out of half the stuff they had planned.
Welp. Now that that was settled, you headed back over to the side. You could see out of the corner of your eye that the others were closing in, one already moving to lay into the prisoner.
Looks like you had a new dog.
D wasn't happy when Negan told him someone else was in charge of Daryl. He'd confronted you that night, yelling about going over his head and taking his assignment. You didn't really react past whistling for one dog staying in your room that night to back down when he'd tried stepping closer.
Another usually sweetheart. This one a Rottweiler who'd always seemed more interested in getting you to rub her belly than going after walkers. She'd practically jumped up and looked ready to charge when D had gotten closer.
She got a few scratches behind the ears when she curled back up at your feet. Because yes. They slept on the bed with you.
It was funny seeing D jump back at that. Like he'd forgotten they can and would attack for you. Even Negan's men. He grumbled and stormed out not long after.
Yeah. The dog got another treat that night. Though, you could tell immediately who wouldn't. Because he now belonged to you, Daryl was dragged in a little later by two men. And when they got there, they hardly waited for you to speak before spotting the kennels you had for the dogs in the corner and walking over.
The smirks on their faces were obvious as the fought him in. You watched with vague familiarity at the struggle. A new one to the shelter. You hadn't told them to do that, but you didn't stop them either.
And when they left, high-fiving each other, you just kept staring. The door shut with a thud, leaving you, Daryl, and two dogs in the room. It wasn't long before Daryl had shoved himself to the back of the kennel, legs pulled up in the cramped space. At least they'd put him in the one for the Doberman.
Maybe you'd find a bigger one later. Or build one when you had the time. Maybe have one of the grunts make it for some points from you.
You stood, then approached. Then sat next to the kennel. You could see the way Daryl glared at the door of it. The way he registered he was somehow a level lower than before.
At least, that's what you'd let him believe for a second.
".. it's better.. for now.. until you get out.."
That finally made Daryl look up at you. A mix of confusion and resentment obvious.
".. I've seen ones like you... ones that get out and *really* escape... until then, just behave.. my dogs get treated better than most of the grunts anyway.."
Which was true. They tended to get food directly from you. And you were one of Negan's top men. Meaning, you got pretty much whatever you want.
Daryl didn't respond. Just stared. Then, eventually, dropped his gaze. You'd have to get him some different clothes later. Some old sweatshirt with "A" written on it was not the attire for your dogs.
You stood again, going back to your bed. Climbing in, you play the blanket for the other dog, a semi responsive Border Collie jumping up in response to curl up with you and the Rottweiler from before.
