Pairing: Negan x Reader, Daryl x Reader
Summary: Reader (Tori) stood up to Negan and is taken back to the Sanctuary with Daryl, but Negan takes an interest in her.
Author’s Note: Sorry for the extremely long delay!
At first it was only a small patter of rain that dripped from the night sky onto you and Daryl, but eventually that patter turned into a shower and the clouds that barely obscured the stars and moon beforehand covered the entirety of the atmosphere. It was just your luck that Rick sent you and Daryl on a hunting trip for any food, even though your leader told you to keep a look out for new people and supplies too.
As soon as the storm hit you with full swing, the deer tracks you had been following disappeared. The two of you were too far away from the Prison to turn back, so you ran to the nearest town and took shelter there.
Currently, you were sat on the floor opposite Daryl, peering at him over the seven cards in your hands. He was looking at you with equal intensity, his crossbow next to your wooden staff on the couch behind him.
Almost mockingly, Daryl placed a +4 on the deck, stating proudly, “UNO.”
You let out an irritated breath through your nose, leaning forward to pick up four more cards before rubbing your tired eyes. “Dick move Dixon… Dick move.” A small smug grin tugs at the corner of his lips despite his attempt at hiding it, and in spite of your annoyance you couldn’t help but smile at the rare sight. Daryl Dixon smiling, that’s a first.
Needless to say, he kicked your ass. After a few more games and the Dixon eventually beating you eight to seven at UNO, you both decided to put down the cards, listening to the rain and wind banging against the window as a compromise.
“Do you trust me?” you asked quietly, keeping your gaze on the darkened sky outside the window. “Not in the way that you trust someone to watch your back, but in the way that you trust someone to give their life for yours.”
From your peripheral vision, you saw him give you a confused look at your random question. He didn’t say anything for a few moments and you almost expected him not to answer at all, but he eventually did.
“More than anyone,” he had said.
“Penny for your thoughts?” a rough voice snapped you out of the memory. Negan’s dark eyes were locked onto yours, staring at you with such intensity that you thought he was gazing into your soul or reading your thoughts. Either way you felt uneasy.
“It’s been a while since I’ve even thought about real money,” you said mainly to yourself, a scoff-laugh escaping you. After a few moments of being trapped in silence, you spoke up. “Why am I here, Negan? You killed my friends barely even a week ago and took me and Daryl. Are you trying to beg for my forgiveness so I can fuck you?”
Negan grinned in amusement. “Can’t we just have a nice fucking chat?”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” a sarcastic smile took over your face, “and while we’re at it, why don’t we have a tea party and braid each other’s hair? Maybe talk about our feelings too?”
“If that’s what my wife wants…”
“Don’t,” you snapped, shaking your head with your lips pulled down at the corners. “Don’t call me your wife.”
“And why the fuck not?” he asked, his voice a little deeper than it was before. He leaned forward in his chair, his face only an inch or so away from yours, his heavy breaths hitting your lips. “Were you married to the fucking redneck? Or was it just a fuck-buddy type of thing. Hell, with something as nasty looking as that piece of shit, it’s a wonder how he crawled between those pretty fucking legs of yours.”
“That’s none of your business.” You didn’t stand down or flinch as the close proximity of you and the man you should hate, but you stared back at him with equal anger and determination. “While we’re at it, why don’t you tell me who Lucille is? Because she sure as hell isn’t just a bat you use to kill.”
It was like you set off a switch inside Negan. Before you could even fathom what was happening, you were up on your feet with your back slammed against the nearest wall, Negan’s hips pressed firmly against yours to stop you from squirming. His forearm was pressed against your throat but not hard enough to cut off circulation, but hard enough to warn you that he would press harder if he needed to.
“Sensitive topic?” you smirked.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, making you shut your mouth. “You have no fucking right to ask that shit, you understand me?” His arm pressed a little tighter against your neck and you gasped, wrapping your small hand around his wrist, but didn’t push him away. “I own you, Tori, you are mine and you will obey me, bow down to me, kneel to me whenever I please. You can talk back to me but you will not fucking like the consequences that come with it.”
“You wouldn’t kill me,” you whispered, subconsciously tightening and loosening your grip on his arm. “Daryl, Rick, Michonne, Carl, Rosita, everyone in that group would hunt you down if you killed one more person.”
“I’m not going to kill you, but not for the reasons you think.” His eyes darkened even further, the atmosphere around the two of you changing to something unfamiliar as he leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Remember that I can and fucking will lay you over my knee as fucking punishment.”
He stepped back at that moment, releasing you from his harsh grip. “Don’t even fucking think about leaving,” was the only thing he said before leaving you. Again.
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