I am!! Okay so, let me tell you a story about a woman who had a year to finish her online course. She realised she had two months left to complete it and she’d done 2 assignments. She had 11 assignments left.
I’m going to get back to it soon, I just need to dig myself out of the hole I made first... oops
Summary: You make a deal with Negan to save your friend Daryl’s life. But when you can’t give Negan the child he wants, you ask Daryl to help make it happen.
Pairings: Daryl x Reader, some Negan x Reader
Chapter: 5/?
Word Count: 3,495
Warnings: Language (like always), angst
You’d lost track of time, wrapped in Daryl’s abandoned sheets with your face buried in his pillow. It smelt like musk and sweat. Like Daryl. Minutes ticked by, your grief turning to numbness as you tried to come to terms with a world without Daryl. A world where you were trapped in the Sanctuary, a slave to Negan every night until you bore him a child. A child he’d raise to be as cruel and sadistic as he was.
The thought of everything Negan had taken from you – Glenn, Abraham, Daryl and soon your own child – was enough to turn your numbness to fury. To determination.
Fuck the Saviours.
Fuck Negan.
It was hard enough carrying on without Abraham’s stupid jokes and wide smile. Without Glenn’s kindness and level-head. But without Daryl? That was what made you snap. You were fiercely loyal of him to a fault – the last six months of sleeping with the enemy had taught you that. Daryl couldn’t die. You’d really believed that. And now you were sitting on his floor, hugging his pillow and wishing it was him.
Negan mustn’t know yet. That was the only explanation as to why he hadn’t rubbed it in your face. No one would dare interrupt him while he was fucking one of his wives, so if it’d just happened then he’d have no idea.
Which meant he wouldn’t see you coming.
You jumped up and went straight to the kitchen cupboards, rifling through the drawers for anything you could use as a weapon, but the sharpest thing Daryl owned was a butter knife and that wasn’t enough. You considered biding your time and waiting until you could get your hands on a real weapon but once Negan learned Daryl was gone, he’d be watching you like a hawk. It had to be now.
You slammed the drawer shut and opened the cupboards. You were in such a rage that you almost missed the bottle abandoned at the back. It looked like wine but the contents didn’t matter. Once you’d poured it out and shattered the bottom, the jagged edges would make for a semi-decent weapon. It was the best you’d found so far but before you could grab it, you heard a voice getting closer.
Simon.
You ran to the bathroom and shut the door behind you, flicking the lock as quietly as you could. Like you’d dreaded, his footsteps stopped outside Daryl’s door.
“—something like this happens again, you gotta deal with it. That’s not the way we handle things.”
You looked around the tiny bathroom, wishing your eyes would adjust to the darkness faster. Your hands found the edge of the sink and you fumbled against the wall above it, trying to find a cabinet that didn’t exist. Your ears were straining, waiting to hear Simon’s voice get louder once he came inside. Your elbow knocked something off the edge of the sink that clattered to the floor but fortunately the noise was covered up by the sound of Daryl’s door rattling.
“Why’s it locked?”
Shit. You’d locked Daryl’s door and it was a turn lock. Which meant it had to be locked from the inside. Even hiding in the bathroom, it was obvious someone was still in the room. They had to be. Simon would catch you in seconds – long before you could get to Negan.
You got to your hands and knees, searching the floor for whatever you’d knocked over. Whoever Simon was talking to mumbled something barely audible and after a few brief moments, Daryl’s lock clicked loudly and the door was open. Your eyes started to adjust just enough to make out a vague shape and for the first time in what felt like months, you finally got lucky. It was a razor. A straight razor.
It wasn’t much; in fact it probably wouldn’t be enough to kill them before they could overpower you. Didn’t mean you couldn’t go out swinging. You pulled the blade out and stood with your back flat against the wall, staring at the door handle beside you. You thought you heard the door to Daryl’s room being closed but Simon was being silent now. As much as you strained to hear something, there wasn’t anything to hear.
Moments passed and you started to doubt yourself. Maybe they hadn’t opened the door. Maybe they’d gone straight to Negan, or to find a crowbar to prise it open instead. You lowered the razor. This could be your only chance to get to Negan and you couldn’t waste it.
Just as you were about to move, the bathroom lock buckled under a heavy kick and the door burst open. You were grabbed from behind, head yanked back to expose your throat. The cold blade pressed against it was accompanied by sharp, feral grunts you could’ve recognised in your sleep.
“Daryl?”
There was a long pause. Your heart pounded and eventually, he pulled away. When you turned, you saw him. His face was matted with scars, his arm was bandaged and he was looking at you like you were a trap. But you didn’t care about any of that; you ran straight to him and wrapped your arms around him.
“I thought you were dead!”
You’d been trying to keep it together but now that relief ran through you, you couldn’t stop yourself crying. He didn’t hug you back, just held your shoulders and after giving you a few seconds, gently pushed you away. His thumb brushed against your neck. At first you thought it was a sweet gesture; it took you a moment to remember Negan had left bruises where his mouth had been. Daryl dropped his hand, turning away while you composed yourself.
“The hell you doing here?” he mumbled, walking away from you and putting his knife back in its sheath.
“Your arm…” was all you managed to blurt out as you followed him further into the room.
He was silent for a moment, looking around the room at the sheets you’d disturbed and the cupboard you’d left open. “So you went through my shit?”
“I was looking for a weapon,” you said, taking a tentative step closer. You decided not to tell him that you’d been cradling his stuff as if it was him. “I thought you were dead. The room looks empty; your sheets were on the floor—”
“That’s where I sleep,” he snapped, leaving you silent for a moment while you tried to make sense of things.
“…Why don’t you sleep in the bed?”
He turned his head, not enough to see you but enough to sense you. Not enough for you to see him – and you were starting to feel like that was the point. “I ain’t one of them. I don’t want their shit. I don’t want their bed or their radio or their goddamn microwave. I don’t want none of it.”
He didn’t say it but the accusation was there in his voice and you weren’t about to let it go. “Because you’re so much better than me, right? You still sleep on their sheets.”
“These sheets are mine, found ‘em abandoned. I ain’t like you. I don’t drink their wine and wear their clothes and fuck Negan whenever he damn well feels like it.”
“Negan again?! Are you ever gonna let this drop?!” you snapped and he finally turned to face you – more out of anger than intention.
“You ever make it hard on him? Huh?! Guy claims he ain’t no rapist so what the FUCK are you screwing him for?!”
“FOR YOU, YOU DUMB FUCK! In case you forgot, I’m doing this to save your goddamn life!”
“WELL I AIN’T ASKED YOU TO!”
“WELL I’M DOING IT ANYWAY! I FUCKING NEED YOU!” you screamed back, finally shutting him up.
He stared at you, breathing hard but waiting for an explanation. You were more than a little embarrassed but it was too late to take it back now. “You don’t get to die. Not you. It was selfish, alright? I saved your life because I want you alive.
“I was looking for a weapon so I could kill Negan and as many others as I could take down because I thought you weren’t here anymore. I spent the whole fucking day terrified out of my mind because you might be turning and I couldn’t get to you. Do you have any idea what that feels like?! So stop judging me and throwing Negan in my face because it’s about you. It’s always been about you.”
After your little speech, his continued silence was embarrassing. You couldn’t blame him, you’d humiliated yourself by making it sound romantic when it wasn’t. He probably felt more uncomfortable than you did.
“What the hell happened to your arm?” you asked, keeping your voice firm as if nothing had happened.
“Just some dumb kid,” he answered, still not taking his eyes off you, “tryna be a hero.”
You’d never noticed how intense his eye-contact could be. It could rival Negan’s. You managed to keep your voice steady but you needed to break the atmosphere, so you sat on the floor with your back to the wall. “Which group?”
Daryl sighed and relented as well, sitting down opposite you with his back against the foot of the bed. He shook his head to make his hair fall in front of the scarred side of his face. You pretended you hadn’t noticed.
“Found a new one. Dwight shot one of ‘em, teachin’ ‘em Negan’s fucked up rules. Kid went nuts; tried to bite a chunk off my arm. Think the others were in shock… was a damn mess.”
“The kid alright?”
“Yeah. Had to hit her to get her off but she’ll live. Didn’t break nothing.”
You could see the toll this was taking on him. Trying to balance keeping the Saviours happy without losing himself in the process. His shoulders were hunched and he kept picking at his fingers, which you could see now looked sore. Raw and full of cuts where he’d been pulling the skin away. The guilt of what he had to do was eating him up and imaging you in Negan’s bed every night because of him probably only made it worse. “Are you alright Daryl?”
He nodded slowly, his eyes softer now. Aside from the night he’d spent back in Alexandria, this was the first time you’d talked properly since Negan first made an appearance. It must’ve been almost a year ago. He glanced at the door and you knew he was thinking the same thing. This was stolen time. It was against the rules.
“I’ve done a lot of shit but I ain’t killed no one. Can’t make me do that.”
“You might have to one day.”
“Nah,” was all he said, staring you dead in the eye. You knew what that meant. He’d take the bullet himself before he killed an innocent.
At least one of you had some morals left.
“Where did Simon go?” you asked. You’d just got Daryl back; you didn’t want to think about losing him again.
“Them locks ain’t hard, just use a coin or something to turn it. Told him I locked it from the outside. Let him see me unlock it so he wouldn’t doubt it.”
You nodded, realising that his quick thinking had probably saved your life.
“Listen, I’m sorry,” you said, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “I’ve been a dick. And… I’m sorry I put us in this position in the first place. I just couldn’t stand to see you—”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
You felt sick in the pit of your stomach as both you and Daryl jumped to your feet. You’d heard Lucille often enough in your nightmares to recognise the sound now.
“Daaaaryl,” Negan crooned. “I think you’ve got something that belongs to me. About so high. White dress. Empty as a spayed cow.”
The two of you shared a look before Daryl opened the door and stood to one side, eyes on the ground. Negan soaked in Daryl’s submissive stance for a moment, before he let out a soft laugh and walked into the room with Lucille resting on his shoulders.
“Now there’s my Grade-A bitch of a wife! Now I know I didn’t give you permission to see Daryl today so d’you wanna explain why you’re bothering one of my best soldiers?”
“I thought—”
“That I was with Tanya tonight? That I didn’t see through the little set-up you tried to play off? You think I can’t tell the difference between Tanya’s fake flirting and when she MEANS IT?! And you overplayed the part of the spurned housewife so hard I thought I’d walked into an amateur dramatics class. But then… thinking your ex-boyfriend started eating people will have that effect, won’t it?”
You opened your mouth to say something but he’d already figured out everything you’d done. He seemed to be revelling in your shock but you were more concerned with how much trouble you were in. Or how much trouble you’d put Daryl in.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hand move to his knife. But you kept your focus trained on Negan. “Look, Daryl had nothing to do with this. He didn’t know I was coming—”
“Daryl? Now what are you worrying about Daryl for? See I spoke to Carson, I know exactly what happened,” Negan boomed, turning back to Daryl and putting an arm over his shoulder, leading him further into the room. He didn’t drop his arm though, and you could see Daryl’s chest heaving with the effort of fighting off every instinct to attack Negan on the spot. “You think I’d take it out on him? He’s been doing some great work for me. Bringing a new group into the fold… beating up a kid. He’s making himself right at home! Now I know he hated to do it but he did what had to be DONE! Ain’t that right Daryl?”
I took him a few seconds to push his anger to one side and nod. Negan watched every moment of Daryl’s struggle and laughed under his breath again. After that bit of fun was over he let go of Daryl and turned on you, taking your chin in his hand. “But you? You’ve been nothing but hard work for the last few weeks. And I’m not gonna lie, some of that work was very hard…” he smirked, leaning in closer to you. His lips were almost touching yours but as much as you usually hated yourself for loving it, having Daryl in the room changed everything. Having him there made this the terrifying ordeal it was always meant to be.
“Don’t…” you whispered before you could stop yourself. Negan’s grin grew wide.
“Why not? You don’t want Daryl to know what a dirty girl you are?”
Out of the corner of your eye you could see Daryl’s eyes burning holes in Negan’s head. His fingers were brushing up against the knife and it looked like he was holding himself back by a thread. Any second now he was going to make a huge mistake. But Negan wasn’t done.
“You don’t want him to know that you begged me for every one of those bruises ‘so everyone can see’? Or… maybe you don’t want him to know that the thought of Daryl seeing them was what pushed you over the edge.”
You didn’t know if Daryl pulled his knife out or not. All you knew was that you had to make Negan stop talking. You grabbed his face and pulled his lips into yours, crashing together and squeezing your eyes shut tight. You were frowning into the kiss, eyes prickling with the threat of tears but Negan was smiling. When you finally pulled back, he laughed.
“Wow. Kissing me in front of your ex? That’s cold.”
You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t look at either of them.
“Speaking of cold,” Negan carried on, “we haven’t even talked about your punishment yet. You didn’t think you could try to pull a scheme on me and get away with that shit, did you? You know… I think you’re spoiled. I’ve given you a life of luxury and you’re forgetting what your life used to be like before you married me. Maybe a couple of nights in the hole will remind you how amazing your life is right now.”
“The hole?” you asked, looking back up. He’d told you about it before. It was the place they’d kept Daryl for weeks.
“Thanks for your hospitality Daryl,” Negan grinned, slapping him on the shoulder as he headed out of the room, completely ignoring you. And Negan wasn’t the only one – Daryl wouldn’t look at you either. “Are you gonna make me whistle you like a dog or are you gonna walk out of here with some dignity?”
Dignity. If you had any before, you sure as hell didn’t have any now.
You followed Negan to the tiny concrete cell without another word. He was laughing about the look on Daryl’s face but you were doing your best to block it out.
When you stepped inside the hole and turned to face him, he wasn’t grinning anymore. His face was hard and serious and you knew you were skating on thin fucking ice. But you hadn’t realised just how thin it was until he said:
“Two months.”
You froze. In Daryl’s room he said you’d be in here for two days, now he was telling you months?! He soaked up the fear in your eyes but instead of enjoying it like usual, he remained as hard as ever. “You’ve got two months to fulfil your side of the bargain or we’re gonna have to look at this whole deal again. See, Daryl knows the rules. He knows if shit kicks off like it did with that kid, someone’s gotta spill blood for it. Now I get it, first time showing a new group how things play out is always hard but it’s got to be done – that’s how everything keeps running. Still I could forgive that if I didn’t have Simon telling me he’s not eating from our own generous supplies here so I’m wondering where the hell he’s getting his food from. See, I don’t think he’s really, truly on board here. Do you?”
You didn’t know what to say, but Negan wasn’t looking for an answer. He was just pausing for effect; letting the gravity of the situation sink in. “You told me that he’d do anything for the Saviours if you were carrying my child so you better make that shit happen because I don’t trust him. You understand what I’m telling you here darlin’?”
Your mouth was dry. You just nodded in response while your heart hammered in your chest.
“Good. Because I’d hate to have to kill him but if he proves useless then I will. Now I don’t want you to think he’s getting harsher treatment just because he’s got a tiny cock between his legs and not the beautiful pussy that you have, so don’t worry. If you turn out to be useless too, you’ll both meet the same fate together.”
Before you could reply he slammed the door closed and plunged you into darkness. You pressed your hand against the door as you heard the keys turn in the lock, followed by the sound of his footsteps walking away.
So that was it. You had two months to get pregnant or you and Daryl would die. You wondered if it’d be by the iron or if Lucille would do the job. Would you be left alive to see Daryl’s shattered body before Negan broke your skull? Or would Daryl have to see yours?
Your morbid train of thought was interrupted with music blasting through speakers you didn’t even realise were in the room.
Isn't it a pity
Isn't it a shame
It was loud and obnoxious but welcome all the same. Music might stop the boredom eating away at you. You thought it was almost generous of him – until the lyrics kicked in properly and the realisation hit you. Everything Negan did was sadistic.
How we break each other's hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other's love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Isn't it a pity
The thin strip of light at the bottom of the door went dark. You panicked for a moment, until you realised it was someone’s shadow. The music had masked the sound of footsteps.
“Daryl?”
You lay on the floor, looking under the tiny gap to see the over-worn boots that belonged to him. You slammed your hand down twice on the door and called his name again.
But he turned away and left you without saying a word, while the music kept taunting you.
Now, isn't it a pity.
For anyone interested, you can listen to the song here. And to thank you all for being so patient with me, there’s gonna be smut in the next chapter ;)
I absolutely LOVE your fic, your writing style is amazing,, -since i usually get bored and start skipping lines even when i really like the story but thats just me, but not here- and the Negan characterization is on point... one of my favorite fics ever. do you update weekly or randomly? or do you know when will you post the next chapter? :D im checking everyday anyway <3
Omg thank you so much!!!!! This is such a lovely comment! I update randomly but I can add you to the tag list (if you’re not already) ;) and hopefully it shouldn’t be too long this time!!
Summary: You make a deal with Negan to save your friend Daryl’s life. But when you can’t give Negan the child he wants, you ask Daryl to help make it happen.
Pairings: Daryl x Reader, some Negan x Reader
Word Count: 9k+
Warnings: Smut, angst, violence, language ~ and all that good stuff!
How did you come up with the title for Bar Sinister?
Bar Sinister is the name for a bar running through a coat of arms (like in the banners I use!). It signifies someone of ‘illigitimate birth’. Yanno. A bastard ;)
Summary: You make a deal with Negan to save your friend Daryl’s life. But when you can’t give Negan the child he wants, you ask Daryl to help make it happen.
Pairings: Daryl x Reader, some Negan x Reader
Chapter: 4/?
Word Count: 3,086
Warnings: Language (like always), injuries
Six months. Six negative results. Six reasons why your deal with Negan was worthless.
You were sitting on the sofa in the harem, with Frankie on one side of you and Tanya on the other, each wearing their skin-tight black dresses. And then there was you, in the floaty (but still uncomfortably short) white dress that Negan had one of the workers sew especially for you. You were pretty sure the material it was made from used to be a set of curtains, but it wasn’t like wearing it was optional. It was a uniform. A reminder that Negan could enjoy you at the click of his fingers. A reminder that the Saviours were the “future”.
The future that was meant to be growing in your stomach. Except the pregnancy test that Negan had thrown onto the table in front of you showed ‘negative’ for the sixth time. His eyes were burning holes into you and you didn’t dare meet his gaze. Even the girls either side of you were tense, both of them holding one of your hands.
After two long minutes, Frankie tried to break the silence. “It can take a while. Six months isn’t—”
“HEY! Did I ask for your input?” Negan snapped. You squeezed their hands. “Go see Doctor Carson. Tell him to prep for a full examination. If we don’t have the equipment he needs, we’ll get it.”
Frankie hesitated like there was more she wanted to say, but you nudged her. There was no point in you both getting on Negan’s bad side. Frankie was smarter than that, she hadn’t survived this long by being a brat at every turn. So like a good wife she nodded and made her act of defiance the reassuring shoulder squeeze she gave you before she left. Negan looked at Tanya, daring her to speak. She kept her eyes down and her mouth shut.
Negan sighed and started pacing the room, rubbing his face as he turned to face you. “Is there anything you want to tell me before the good doctor gives you your examination?”
“Like what?”
He sprung forward, leaning on the arm of the chair so his face was level with yours. “I don’t know, like maybe you had an IUD shoved up there years before this all happened and conveniently forgot about it.”
You stared right back, no longer frightened of him like you used to be. Six months of being his ‘wife’ had desensitized you to those intense eyes. “You think I’ve been fucking you with contraception all this time and just faking it?”
“Well considering your first plea to save Daryl’s life was to marry me without the whole kid thing, I’d say it’s becoming more plausible every time you start raining blood. I should’ve had you tested when you first got here but being the trusting husband that I am, I thought: how could that sweet face lie to me?”
He grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to expose your throat which he’d been peppering with bruises the last couple of weeks. From the old yellow smears that were almost invisible now to the dark purple bruise he’d left last night. He was getting more frustrated the longer your tests kept coming back negative but until today, that frustration had been manifesting in ways you’d both enjoyed. Apparently this result was the last straw.
Frankie cleared her throat from the doorway. “He says he’s ready. He can do the preliminary stuff now and if he needs to do anything else, he’ll write a list of what he needs.”
Negan didn’t bother looking around, he just tightened his grip on your chin. “Well?”
“I’m not lying,” you insisted, staring him dead in the eye. He couldn’t help smiling a little. It turned him on when you stood up to him, and if you were being honest with yourself you quite liked it.
“We’ll see… Tanya, make sure she gets there alright,” he ordered, walking over to Frankie and standing behind her, his lips brushing against her ear. He murmured in her ear, quiet enough so you knew it was just for her but loud enough that both you and Tanya knew she hadn’t gotten away with her earlier outburst. “You and I need to have a little chat.”
Carson pulled on his gloves while you sat back on the chair with your legs spread and just a small sheet draped over your hips to allow you a little modesty. Lubrication sputtered onto the speculum that you were trying your best to ignore.
“Any pain or discomfort during sex?” Carson asked, providing you with a small distraction rather than leaving the questions for later.
“No,” you answered hoarsely, while Tanya sat on a chair in the corner and gave you a reassuring smile.
“Good. This might feel a bit uncomfortable,” he said, taking the seat next to you and pushing your legs slightly wider so that the speculum slipped in easier. He pushed it in and widened the mouth before you had time to adjust but at least he was fast. “Well, everything looks healthy. Are your periods normal?”
“Yeah,” you said, closing your eyes so you didn’t have to watch him sticking the brush inside. It was only a few seconds before the pressure eased up and he’d pulled the speculum back out. He was good at his job.
“I’m going to analyse this and see if the cells are healthy,” he explained, sealing the sample in a sterile tube. He set a box of tissues down beside you and walked over to his work bench, giving you some privacy to clean up. “If they are, and we’re hoping they are, we can do some more tests around the time you—”
It was Daryl.
In the last six months you’d caught maybe a glimpse of the back of his head a couple of times, but you’d never been so close to him. You’d never seen the long-since healed scars that crawled up the left side of his face, thankfully just avoiding his eye. He seemed to be thinking the same thing because he put his head down, trying to stop you from seeing it.
He needn’t have bothered because your vision went blurry, eyes welling up at the sight of him. You choked out his name and held out your hand, silently begging him to close the gap for you. He glanced up through his hair, his eyes darting to Carson and then to Tanya and finally back to your hand. He swallowed hard and took a few steps back and as you got a better look at him, you realised he was cradling his arm. His bloody arm. You jumped off the bed but he rushed out of the room and Tanya stepped between you and the door before you could reach him, leaving Carson to follow him into the corridor.
“He’ll be fine. Carson will stitch him up.”
“Let me out!” you snapped but as you tried to shove past her she grabbed your arms and squeezed so tight it hurt.
“Is that…?” you heard Carson ask.
“Nah.”
“Look at me. Do I need to amputate?”
Your stomach dropped. There was only one reason he’d need to amputate.
He’d been bitten.
Tanya had slapped her hand over your mouth and shoved you further into the office before you could react. You hadn’t noticed the familiar sound of Simon’s thuds getting closer but Tanya was all about staying safe. She’d heard it. And she knew that if Simon saw you and Daryl in the same place, he’d go straight to Negan with a huge smile on his face as he reported you both. It wasn’t you who’d end up being punished. It’d be Daryl.
Once Simon was gone, Carson ushered Daryl back into the room. “You need to leave. I have another patient.”
“Were you bitten?” you asked, only for Carson to block your view of Daryl.
“You need to leave. Now,” he repeated and Tanya dragged you away, leading you back to the harem.
“You’ll see him, alright? We’ll make it happen,” she whispered, “but we’ve got to be smart about it.”
You’d been standing by the window for the best part of two hours while the girls chatted behind you, trying to keep up some sense of normality. Every now and again they’d ask your opinion on something you hadn’t been listening to and you’d just hum in response. The sun was taking its sweet ass time to set while you tried to stop torturing yourself with questions you couldn’t answer. And the worst question of all: what if they hadn’t amputated in time?
What if all you could do was stand here waiting for darkness to fall while he died alone in his room?
You hadn’t acknowledged Negan when he came into the room and it was starting to piss him off. After half an hour of flirting with his other wives, joking loudly and eventually making comments about you, all with zero response, he pulled Tanya to one side.
“She been like this the whole time?” he muttered, keeping his voice low so you couldn’t hear. Not that you were paying any attention anyway.
“What did you expect? She’s been good to you and you just shit all over her,” Tanya hissed back. Negan’s brows shot up.
“Tanya! Do I need to wash your pretty little mouth out?” he grinned. She smiled a little, pretending she was trying to hide it. Playing the sweet, nurturing role had its perks; it meant Negan never suspected her of manipulating him. “What did Carson say?”
“Not much, just took some samples. He wants to do a more invasive test tomorrow but he said she can’t have sex for 24 hours before he does it. We didn’t ask him to go into details but I’m guessing your little swimmers would tamper with the results. So… maybe that means I’ll get more than just a quickie with you for once?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were gettin’ a little jealous.”
She laughed and looked away. It was amazing how she’d learned to blush on command and Negan bought right into it. “Well, I didn’t think I’d miss our nights together as much as I do.”
He beamed, leaning backwards and soaking up the praise. “You’re killing me here!”
“Just… give her a bit of space,” Tanya whispered and leaned into him. “She’ll get over it.”
By the time Negan came to get Tanya, darkness had already fallen. You were lying on the sofa facing the window, staring at the moon grinning back at you. You weren’t sure if it was a comforting smile or if it was a cruel laugh. It changed minute by minute – sometimes you imagined it smiling, telling you that everything was going to be alright. Daryl had been maimed for a second time but he’d survive – of course he would. But a minute later the crescent moon would turn to malice, laughing because he was already dead and you were all alone now. You’d ruined him.
It was a strange thing to imagine while you flip-flopped between optimism and pessimism but it was better to make up stories about the moon than it was to imagine what might have become of Daryl in the time you’d wasted waiting for it to be safe.
When Negan finally came to get Tanya, your heart skipped a beat. You sat up, eager to finally get out of this claustrophobic room but luck wasn’t on your side. Despite Tanya waiting for Negan by the door, he came and sat next to you on the sofa. Of all the times to show some compassion, not fucking now!
He sighed and rested his arm on the back of the sofa, taking his time like he always fucking did. Savouring every minute of the spotlight while all you could do was scream inside your head, over and over again: LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE.
“Look… maybe I was a bit hard on you this morning,” he grimaced, like a child being forced to apologise. “I’m sure whatever tests the good doctor’s performing aren’t your idea of a good time. Now Tanya over there is looking beautiful and it’s been too long since I spent a proper night with her… but to show you how sincerely sorry I am, I’m willing to spend the night with you instead. No funny business – even though I really like our funny business. I know you can’t tonight. So, what d’you say? I’ll keep my dick in my pants and you and me can spend some quality time together as husband and wife.”
Your blood ran cold. You stared at him, wanting to beat that stupid fucking grin off his face. Finally, you said in a quiet, dangerous voice: “Are you fucking serious?”
You could see in his eyes he was taken aback. Your voice had taken on an edge he’d never heard before and Tanya and Frankie shared a worried look. You liked it. They were scared, even Negan was shocked. It felt powerful. Now you knew why your darling bastard husband loved it so much.
“I know you must be—” Negan started, but as soon as you saw him trying to fix that smile back on his face, you cut him off mid-sentence. Something that no one dared to do.
You got to your feet, gaining the height advantage. “You think I’d want to spend a single fucking SECOND with you tonight?! Tell me Negan, when are you gonna get YOUR fucking fertility test?”
He jumped to his feet, his face close to yours and filled with disgust. The silence and hardness of his eyes stripped your power away, but did nothing to calm your anger. After a few long seconds of everyone holding their breath, he spat two words at you before walking away.
“Not. Okay.”
You ran to the infirmary first. It was empty but for a few bloodied bandages left in the bin. Your stomach churned at the lack of a limb, but it wasn’t like Daryl’s arm would be waving hi to you from the trash can. If they had amputated, it’d be out in a skip. Or maybe they’d feed it to the walkers outside. The logical part of you knew that but your rational mind wasn’t in the driving seat right now. Your heart was telling you that no limb equalled no amputation, which meant they were too late.
Only one way to find out. You ran to his room.
Negan had made sure you knew exactly where Daryl’s room was. He’d acted like he was doing you a favour by showing you how well Daryl was being treated – but you both knew the unspoken truth. He wanted you to know where the room was so that it’d drive you mad, knowing he was so close when you weren’t allowed to go to him.
Negan had paraded you around the room, taking great pleasure in making you imagine Daryl’s life in these new quarters – and what he might’ve had to do to earn them.
“You know, when Daryl was my prisoner the first time, he never came out of the hole. I offered him all of this,” he’d said, holding his arms out and turning like he was soaking in the Sistine Chapel instead of the bleak cabin room he’d crammed you into, “and he still turned me down. I respected him for that. Sure, it was a dumbass decision and we beat the shit out of him for it but he OWNED that crap!”
You didn’t want to play his games that day. You’d stood with your back to the wall, staring down at the carpet while you waited for him to finish his newest brand of mental torment.
“I just wanna thank you, sincerely,” he’d said as he closed in on you, “for giving him the motivation he needed to get his shit together and join the winning team.”
He’d stared at you expectantly, but when you refused to lift your eyes from the floor he put his hands on your hips and dipped his head to reclaim your attention. “Hey… you wanna fool around on his bed? Christen it for him?”
“Not really.”
“You sure?” he’d grinned. “Cos I can guarantee he’s gonna be bringing his women back here. Don’t want it collapsing on him in the middle of doing the dirty. We’d be doing him a service testing it out first.”
“You really think he’d be interested in any of the Saviours? You don’t know him very well.”
“And you don’t know how hungry a man gets…”
He tipped your head back, forcing you to look up at him. His face was serious and sensual at the same time. The look that pulled you in and made you hate yourself for it. When he continued, his lips were so close to yours that you could feel his breath.
“Which is why…” he muttered, leaning into you and smirking the way he always did when he knew he was turning you on.
Then he took two large steps back and bellowed, “I GAVE him a microwave! I mean a man’s gotta eat and trust me, as one of my new best men he’s gonna be hungry.”
He’d ignored your scowl, not letting you leave until he’d talked you through every single appliance.
It had been cruel at the time, but now you were grateful.
You knocked quickly, keeping an eye out for anyone turning the corner. There was no answer. You knocked again, louder this time.
“Daryl? It’s me. It’s Y/N.”
Still nothing. Your heart sank when you considered that you might be too late. He might already be gone. If he’d turned in that room you’d be fucked, because you didn’t have a weapon to defend yourself. But then again, if Daryl had turned, you weren’t sure you’d want to defend yourself anymore.
You twisted the handle and let yourself in.
He wasn’t there. All the equipment – microwave, stereo, gaming console – it was all perfectly clean. Exactly like it had been the day Negan had shown it to you, the morning before Daryl had moved in. The only difference was that the bed had been stripped and the sheets dumped in the corner, like they were waiting to be laundered for the next poor soul Negan got his fist around.
There was no trace of him.
None at all.
TAGS: (If you want to be tagged, send me a message!)
Request: Could you make a oneshot of Negan/Reader to the song Despacito by Luis Fonsi?
Pairing: Negan x Reader
Word Count: 1,412
Warnings: Smut
You couldn’t stop watching the gun tattoo on Negan’s arm flexing as he pumped his cock where you could finally see it. He was leaning over you, his free arm resting against the wall as his eyes roamed your body. Your fully clothed body. If you leant over and stretched your tongue out really far, you’d probably be able to taste him but he’d made it very clear that you were to lie back until he told you otherwise.
It was frustrating. He was wearing his white t-shirt, touching himself through the gap of his unzipped jeans. It could be so much better than this. You could be touching each other. You could be naked so he could actually see you, instead of imagining what was beneath the clothes you wore every damn day.
You’d spent weeks stealing furtive glances as he walked past you in the courtyard, kneeling with the others. You’d thought it was all in your imagination until he showed up tonight. There was only one thing he could want and when he told you to lie down on the bed, you’d been ready for it. What you hadn’t expected was the twenty minutes of talking and flirting he’d done before he’d even loosened his belt.
“Are you wet?”
You couldn’t stop staring at his cock. You’d never wanted to give a blowjob as much as you did in that moment. It was right there.
“Of course I am,” you breathed, taking the initiative and leaning over to reach what you wanted. He’d expected it. He moved in sync with you, except as you got closer to his cock he pushed off the wall and started walking the room again. You squeezed your eyes shut in frustration and lay back against the pillows like he’d told you to.
God fucking dammit.
“Show me,” he said, a hint of amusement lining his tone. He was getting off on this. “Show me how wet you are, darlin’.”
Finally. You unbuttoned your trousers, pushing your hips up off the bed, eager to take them off. Before you could even pull them down an inch, Negan whistled at you in a way that you knew meant no.
“You know, I’ve been watching you for a while now. I’ve seen you working, and you do a fine job so I know you can follow orders better than that. I don’t have to spell it out for you, do I?”
You took a deep, slow breath. Every cell in your body was begging you to jump off the bed and kiss him. Let him slam you up against the door with his hand against your throat. Fill you up with that delicious looking cock.
But somehow you pushed past that, sliding your hand beneath your underwear and coating your fingers in your own desperation. When you pulled back you held your hand out to him, your fingers glistened. He walked around to the other side of the bed, and you could see his fist again still wrapped tightly around his cock. It was a beautiful distraction.
He admired your fingers for a moment before he finally touched you by grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand up to his mouth. You were only centimetres away. If you bent your fingers the tiniest bit, you’d touch his lips. Somehow he knew you wouldn’t dare try that and he trusted you enough to close his eyes as he breathed in deeply.
“Can’t beat that smell,” he groaned, the tendons in his arm prominent as he worked himself a little faster. His grip was so tight around your wrist it was uncomfortable but you wanted him to grip you harder. To give you just a little bit more. More of whatever you could get. But he let go, leaving behind white finger marks that faded too fast. “You ever taste yourself?”
“No,” you answered, your voice full of disappointment. You heard him chuckle at the sound of it.
“You were never curious about what makes a man go wild down there? Taste it.”
It wasn’t something you’d ever wanted to do. The idea of it grossed you out a little bit and Negan could sense it. He appeared back at your other side and tilted your face so you could look at him properly. His pupils were blown with lust, his tongue trailing along his wide grin. “Go on. Put your fingers in your mouth and suck them clean for me.”
You did. It tasted musky and sharp; not as bad as everyone made out but that still didn’t make it pleasant. You sucked them clean, wrinkling your nose more out of disgust for the idea than the actual taste. His breath hit your face as he laughed.
“Now that’s my dirty girl!”
You moaned, feeling yourself mentally sinking to a deeper level where you knew beyond a doubt that you would do it again in a second if he asked you to. In fact, you sort of did, in the way that you licked your fingers to get them wet before you pushed your hand back beneath your underwear to find your clit.
“You in a rush, darlin’?” he grinned. “Slow the hell down.”
“But the way you said that was so fucking hot…”
“I know.”
He knew. Of course he knew. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. You licked your lips, desperately hoping he’d change his mind as you stared up at him. But his intense gaze won easily and he started to pump himself faster as you pulled your hand back like he wanted.
“Anyone ever come inside you?”
“No.”
“They ever come on you?” He licked his lips again. “No overexcited teenage boys blowing their load before they made it to the finish line?”
“Yeah, sometimes…” you shrugged, sitting up so you could still see him as he walked to the foot of the bed. It was bending the rules a little, but he was too far gone now to care about something so minor.
“You like it?”
“Better than my mouth. It’s easier to clean up…”
“That right?” he asked, but before you could answer he grabbed your ankles and pulled you up to the edge of the bed, right in front of him. You thought you were finally getting it and wrapped your legs around his waist, only for him to smack your thigh hard. “Put ‘em down.”
You dropped your legs but before more disappointment set in, he grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his cock. “Fuck,” you moaned under your breath, determined to do a good job as you picked up the same pace as him. You gripped him tight and stroked him fast, eyes torn between his gorgeous cock and trying to find a reaction from him.
“Easier to clean up, huh?” he breathed, his hands at the bottom of your shirt. He unfastened one of the buttons. Then another. Another. He kept unbuttoning your shirt right until the button that would’ve displayed your bra. But then he stopped, splaying your shirt wide so that your stomach was on display and nothing else. Then he wrapped his fist around yours, making the pace more brutal as he leaned over you. Your hand was still working his cock but he was in control now, making you little more than a puppet. Your arm was just beginning to ache when he cursed loudly and grit his jaw, spilling out onto your skin.
“Holy fucking shit,” he laughed, gripping your hand tight as he forced you to squeeze the last few drops from him. It was almost a relief when he let go, especially when he trailed his fingers down your waist and over your hip. “Now… you’re gonna let this dry for me. Think of it as a little reminder.”
He smeared the come over your skin, painting you with his thumb.
“Who are you?” he asked, distractedly. You looked down at your stomach, watching him sign the final ‘N’.
“Negan?”
“Damn right,” he laughed, wiping his thumb clean on your bed sheets before he zipped his jeans up and fastened his belt.
“Wait!” you blurted out when he started to walk away, leaving your body on fire. “Don’t I get mine?”
“Oh, you will...”
“When?”
He grinned as he leant against your doorframe, looking at his name gleaming back at him from your body. “So damn impatient,” he laughed, whistling to himself as he walked away.
Summary: You make a deal with Negan to save your friend Daryl’s life. But when you can’t give Negan the child he wants, you ask Daryl to help make it happen.
Pairings: Daryl x Reader, some Negan x Reader
Chapter: 3.5/?
Word Count: 821
Warnings: Language, if you’re a slut for this kind of drama like I am - then your pants might fall off, so... Potential Loss of Pants.
“Well, that was dramatic. Give us a minute, would you Doc?” Negan smiled as he walked into the room. Doctor Carson obliged, storming past without a word while Negan wandered around, looking at the various instruments he’d used to fix up Daryl’s face. Daryl glared at him, hoping the silence would suffocate them both. Negan would be the first to die; the bastard couldn’t live without the sound of his own voice.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what happened to the last Doctor Carson,” Negan started, speaking slowly so he could relish every word. He spun around to face Daryl, ready to savour the expression on his face. “Well, that’s on you too. See, when the old Doctor Carson let you out of the hole, Sherry ran off and got herself killed. Thanks to you, I lost one of my FAVOURITE WIVES!”
It was subtle, Daryl was trying to hide it, but there was pain there. It looked delicious. “Oh, you didn’t know? She got herself torn apart by the dead and Dwight had to watch the whole thing. You cost me a wife, so,” he held his arm out, gesturing to the door you’d left from, “fair is fair. You took mine, I took yours. And just between us men…? She was a very enthusiastic experience. Not as good as Sherry – but pretty damn close.”
Negan’s dragged his tongue over teeth, eyes shining from the thrill of tormenting Daryl. Daryl was trying to keep it together but he was breathing like a rabid dog, his balled up fists twisting like beneath his restraints. He clenched his teeth and spat, “Why’d you have to make her look dumb? You dressed her up like a doll. It don’t even fit.”
Negan sat on the edge of the bed, laughing under his breath. “You’re right, that black dress didn’t do anything for her. But just you wait until you see the outfit I’ve got in mind! You’ll love it. Besides… when she stripped herself naked for me?” he let out a low whistle. “If I trusted my men to keep their dicks in their pants, I’d keep her naked all damn day. That dress is a crime!”
Negan grinned and rested his hand on Daryl’s knee, letting that thought sink in. Daryl tried to pull away but the restraints were too tight. There was nothing he could do about it.
“I’m gonna get us out of this,” he hissed. “And when I do, I’m gon’ kill you.”
Negan’s face had fallen, but it only took him a few seconds to fix his smile back in place. “Now that’s some BIG TALK. Sounds like you’re trying to take yet another wife from me! Is that what you’re doing Daryl?”
“She ain’t your wife.”
“Really? Because that’s the only thing keeping both of you alive right now!”
Daryl’s eyes burned, his fists straining to beat Negan to a pulp. After a moment of admiring Daryl’s fury, Negan sighed and leaned in closer, cradling Daryl’s bandaged cheek like he was comforting a friend.
“I know it must be hard. Hell, when we were making love in my bed, she was telling me all about how you ate her out last night. You must feel pretty damn stupid for not sticking your tiny prick in there when you had the chance, right?” He patted the side of Daryl’s head – which was less like a pat and more like a series of slaps. A few seconds passed before the blood seeped through the clean bandages, but luckily it meant that the confusion on Daryl’s face was quickly replaced with pain – and that was what Negan was consumed with. Everything else went unnoticed.
Once he’d seen that, he pulled back and straightened himself up. “I want to apologize for what happened earlier. Y/N running in like that. Here you are, trying to recover from me melting your face off… your freshly-fucked ex is the last person you’re gonna want to see. After all, she’s the reason you’re in this mess, right? The others were content to let you die with dignity but then she opened her damned mouth. Still… you won’t have to worry about any of that! Because I’m gonna make sure you don’t have to see her anymore.”
“Nah,” Daryl said, panic glinting in his eyes for the first time. He was like an ant beneath Negan’s boot, all chained up and broken. “You can’t do that.”
Negan leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t you worry, Daryl. I’m gonna keep her real busy.”
Daryl started to yell and curse, thrashing against his restraints as Negan headed for the door.
“Doc!” Negan bellowed. “Give Daryl a sedative, would you? He’s got himself all worked up!”
“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Daryl screamed. Negan just flipped Daryl off over his shoulder without looking back, his face split into a huge grin as he left Doctor Carson to reluctantly grab a syringe.
Summary: You make a deal with Negan to save your friend Daryl’s life. But when you can’t give Negan the child he wants, you ask Daryl to help make it happen.
Pairings: Daryl x Reader, some Negan x Reader
Word Count: 9k+
Warnings: Smut, angst, violence, language ~ and all that good stuff!
Summary: You make a deal with Negan to save your friend Daryl’s life. But when you can’t give Negan the child he wants, you ask Daryl to help make it happen.
Pairings: Daryl x Reader, some Negan x Reader
Chapter: 3/?
Word Count: 4,651
Warnings: Language, smut, unprotected sex (obviously), dub-con?**, angst
**It’s pretty consensual honestly, but Negan is an asshole so I’m putting a warning anyway.
At first glance, Negan’s bedroom was just like the harem, bathed in both lamplight and candlelight. It sported the same plants and plush cushions, but the rest of the décor made it imposing. Stuffed animal heads stared at you. There were five paintings on the walls and all of them were illustrations of snakes. There was even a skull on the trophy shelf.
This, combined with the fact that all of his furniture was black, made the dimly lit room feel like it belonged to a Victorian ghost story.
“I know,” Negan whispered in your ear, his hand on your lower back. He was letting you ‘admire’ the room from the doorway. “You can hardly believe your luck. If I was you? I’d feel the same way. I’m sure it’s not like the pretty little house you shared with Daryl… that nice little suburban place with running water and flowerbeds,” he smirked, leading you towards the bed. Even the bed sheets were black.
“But you see this? This antique oak four-poster is where queens are made. Because as soon as you lay down with me in that bed, there ain’t nobody alive who’s gonna screw with you!” he stepped right in front of you, chewing his lip and grinning as you looked up at him. “And nobody alive who’s gonna screw you… except for me. That clear darlin’?”
Spending the last hour being man-handled by his other wives didn’t do much to help your mood. You glared back at him, Daryl’s screams still echoing in your head. “Well I look like ‘the ugly duckling took a swim in someone’s toilet’, right? So who would want to?”
He held your gaze for a few seconds before slowly breathing a laugh. “Feisty. You know that if I really meant that, you wouldn’t be here. That was just me seeing what you were made of and you passed the test. But unfortunately, the answer you just gave me wasn’t an answer and I’m going to need to hear it coming from your mouth. You see, you have one rule, and that rule is you cannot cheat on me. No sneaking out to find your ex-boyfriend and stealing a few minutes in a closet with his hand up your skirt. You stay with me and you’ll live like a god, but if you break our agreement? Then I’ll have to go back on that and you and Daryl will wind up dead and I don’t wanna have to make that happen. So… when I tell you that under no circumstances can another man – or woman, I don’t judge – put their hands on you, you say…?”
“I won’t cheat on you.”
“That’s my girl.”
Negan left you staring at the bed. You heard him shutting the double doors behind you, making the room even darker, before the clink of glass told you he was pouring a drink. He told you to sit down, and for a second you thought about sitting alone on one of the armchairs. You thought about fighting him every step of the way. But that wasn’t going to do Daryl any good now and it wouldn’t help you either, so you sat on the sofa and scooted over to make space for him. When he turned around with two glasses in hand, his face didn’t betray whether he noticed your decision. He just laughed to himself and sat beside you while you fidgeted with your dress. Amber and Tanya wore fitted black dresses and as Negan’s wife, apparently you were expected to wear one as well. Except since you were a surprise, there wasn’t a dress prepared. So Tanya frantically found the one closest to your size and hoped for the best. The ‘best’ wasn’t very good. Standing up hadn’t been too bad, but sitting down was a nightmare.
Negan sat beside you, leaving a respectable amount of space between you both. That small courtesy came as a surprise; you hadn’t expected any kind of decency from him. Especially after he made his wives customise your body to his preference. If you were being honest, you’d expected to be face down on the bed already. But instead he was cradling his glass and staring at you in the dim light, making the mood seem softer. If it had been anyone other than Negan, it might’ve felt sensual. But this was the man who’d bludgeoned two of your friends to death with his bat.
“Don’t think I don’t recognise you,” he said, like he knew what you were thinking. Then again, how could you be thinking anything else? “You were there that night. When I had to set an example to your group. I didn’t want to—”
“Yes, you did,” you interrupted. His smile fell fast. “You were grinning from ear to ear the whole time. So, yes. You wanted to.”
His tongue traced his teeth, buying him time until he fixed that smile back on his face. “Well you have to admit, that was one hell of an example. It had been a long damn time since anyone had the balls to go up against me like Rick did. So maybe I had some fun with it. But the second guy, that Asian kid? That didn’t have to happen. That one was on Daryl. I explained the rules very clearly. Hell, I don’t think I could’ve been clearer if I’d done a presentation.” He tilted his head, touching you for the first time since he sat down as he cupped your cheek and made you look at him. “I’m sure I look like a huge asshole to you but I can assure you, I am not that much of a douche all the time, and especially not to my wives. That includes you, sweetheart.”
He brushed his thumb over your skin but you didn’t flinch or turn away. You held his gaze and slowly sipped your drink. After a moment, he pulled his hand away. “You’ve had a tough day. And to prove that I’m not the asshole you think I am, I’m gonna let you off the hook. We don’t have to do anything tonight that you’re not ready for. Hell, I won’t even touch you if that’s what you want.”
After spending an hour getting prepped for this, the thought of spending the night talking and having to go through all of this again tomorrow wasn’t very appealing. “Let’s just get it over with.”
Negan’s eyes narrowed and his voice took on a playful tone. “Now is that any way to speak to your new husband? And after I’ve made good on all of my promises to you, I’m starting to think you’re ungrateful.”
He draped his arm over the back of the sofa, claiming the space between you as his smile turned coy. “Is that true, Y/N? Are you ungrateful?”
“I’m very grateful, Negan,” you replied, playing the game a little too sarcastically. He didn’t care, in fact he looked amused.
“Why don’t you show me how grateful you are?”?
It was like a cliché set up for a porno, but it broke the tension enough to allow you to give Negan what he wanted – which was for you to make the first move. You didn’t waste time with fake romance, just leaned forward and kissed him. You felt his thumb brushing your shoulder as he lay his other hand on your knee. His lips were hard but his technique was gentle, like he’d touched you a thousand times before and knew every inch. To give him his due, he wasn’t being selfish. He was taking his time and enjoying the pace you set.
Or maybe you were already giving the bastard more credit than he deserved.
You edged closer to him and he slid his hand little higher up your leg.
“Silky smooth,” he smiled, talking with his lips only an inch away from yours. “Something poor ol’ Daryl’s face will never be again.”
You pulled back, feeling like he’d just smacked you. Definitely giving him too much credit. You’d have to be careful not to get sucked in. He had all the right words and the smile to match, but beneath all the charm there was nothing but a twisted sadist with a god complex.
You drained the dregs from your glass and got up to refill it. “I don’t want to talk about Daryl.”
You heard Negan follow and felt him standing so close behind you that you were almost flush against his body. You refused to turn around.
“Why not? Sure, he might look like a dog ate half his face and maybe he’ll always carry that chip on his shoulder, but you saved him. You STEPPED UP! While the others were content to watch me bash his brains in, you said ‘No, I’m going to do everything I can to stop this and if it gets me killed, so be it!’ You were the only one who gave a damn – and I’m going to make sure he knows that.”
It sounded honourable on the surface but you knew exactly what he meant. He was going to try and convince Daryl that the others never cared about him. You were sure that Daryl had grown enough to see through that bullshit but that didn’t stop you from worrying.
“How long were you two shakin’ sheets?” Negan asked, still standing behind you. You set your glass down while you hurried to come up with an answer. You and Daryl had only ever been friends. Sure, you felt close to him because he was a good man and you trusted him, but there was never anything romantic there. It worked in both of your favours to have Negan believe you’d been dating though. This deal wouldn’t look as appealing to him if he didn’t think he’d taken something Daryl wanted. But if you made up details for Negan and Daryl came up with something else, the façade would blow up in both your faces.
“I told you, I don’t want to talk about him,” you mumbled, and did the only thing you could think of to shut him up. You kissed him again. But this time, you put effort into it, hooking your thumbs beneath his waistband and pulling him against you.
He chuckled into the kiss but went with it anyway, setting his own glass down behind you and grabbing your hips. His stubble scraped your face; his fingers digging a little too hard but you gave back as good as you got. That morning you’d woken up grateful that Daryl was in the next room, back where he belonged in Alexandria. Now you were married to Negan and Daryl was lying in a hospital bed. Everything had gone to shit and tomorrow was going to bring a fresh day of hell.
But all you could do about it was kiss, and touch, and hope he didn’t bring Daryl back into the conversation. You didn’t want to remember the pain Daryl was in or how his skin had melted into the iron. Maybe you had saved his life, but that was a cold comfort after all the shit that followed.
Negan broke through your racing thoughts and reclaimed your focus when he pulled down the zip at the back of the dress. “Show me what my generosity bought me…”
All you could do was try to keep your composure as you slipped the dress off your shoulders and pushed it down past your waist. His eyes followed it downwards: chest, breasts, stomach, hips – right down to the freshly waxed Brazilian he apparently favoured.
“Now this is what a woman should look like. You know, I might’ve made some comments earlier but I was wrong – you are not as unattractive as I first thought; not when you’ve got those clothes off. I am very much going to enjoy this whole baby-making gig with you…” he stepped forward, fingertips brushing the strip of hair left between your legs. “And I’m gonna do my damn best to make sure you enjoy it too.”
He pulled off his leather jacket and draped it over the edge of the sofa. “Go lie down, sweetheart. Make yourself comfortable.”
You took a quick mouthful of the whiskey abandoned behind you before you climbed onto the bed and covered yourself with a pillow. A pair of glass eyes stared at you from the head mounted opposite the bed and it was disturbing enough to distract you from the rattle of Negan unfastening his belt and the soft thump of jeans being dropped on the sofa.
“Now, why would you cover that body up?” he said, much closer to the bed than you’d expected. Your gaze was pulled back to him as he grabbed the pillow from you and threw it on the floor. “This is my body now and I want to look at it. Spread your legs.”
You did as he asked and he put one hand on your knee to stop you closing back up as he stood over you, just as naked as you. His eyes were scrutinising your form but quickly settled on your pussy. He wrapped his other hand around himself, tugging as he knelt down. You couldn’t stop staring as he pressed his face against your thigh and closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath.
“Fresh as a goddamn daisy,” he laughed, his voice raspier than usual. You could see from the flex of his arm that he was stroking himself properly now. That he must be getting harder.
“Do you want this, darlin’?” he asked. You nodded in response. It was too late to back out now. “Tell me.”
“I want it.”
He grinned up at you, his cheek still against your thigh. “What do you want?”
Your answer was a whisper. “I want you to fuck me, Negan. I want you to give me a baby.”
He laughed, staring at you for a few moments with that shit-eating grin on his face. “Hearing you say that does all kinds of nasty things to me.”
“You gonna make me beg?”
“No. Begging is beneath you,” he answered, licking his palm and stroking the length of his cock a couple more times as lubrication, before he spat on his fingers and rubbed them against your pussy. He didn’t waste any more time, kneeling between your legs and pressing his cock against you, finding your entrance and pushing forward slowly until your body had no choice but to yield and take him inside.
“Ugh, FUCK!” you groaned, because Negan or not, it felt good. You widened your legs but he had other ideas, grabbing one of your calves and pulling it over his waist. You got the message and hooked both legs behind his back, hands gingerly wrapping around his neck. It’d been a while since you’d slept with a guy and apparently it showed.
“If I was Daryl and you were waiting for me at home, I would’ve screwed you ‘til you couldn’t walk. He got problems down there?” he asked between thrusts.
“He ate me out,” you lied, your rational mind being filtered out by Negan’s cock.
“I bet he did…” he said, giving one hard, unexpected jab and chuckling when you moaned. “Bet he could just fucking live down there. He good at it?”
“Mmm…”
“You come all over his face?”
“Oh fuck…” you breathed, eyes rolling back. There was something really fucking sexy about imagining Daryl with his face between your legs and it was so fucked up that Negan was helping you get off on that, but for some sick reason that made it even better.
He wrapped an arm under your back and rolled over, pulling you on top of him. You took over instinctively and rode him fast, ignoring the wide grin that split over his face because (as much as you hated to admit it) you were clearly enjoying yourself. He watched your breasts bounce, running a hand over one on the way up to your mouth. Then his hand was against your neck and his thumb tracing your lips. “Get it nice and wet, darlin’.”
You opened your mouth without a second thought and he pushed his thumb inside for you to suck and lick. He moaned, bucking his hips to help with your rhythm as he watched. A few moments later your mouth was left empty but your clit felt the benefit. He circled you with his thumb and slammed into you at the same time, watching the sweat bead on your chest and glimmer in the soft lighting.
“You gonna come for me?”
“Mm-hmm…” you hummed, riding him as hard as your focus allowed.
He watched closely, waiting until he could feel you tightening around him and see you hanging on the edge before he said, “Bet his face will never feel the same again…”
You shook your head, whispering, “Please don’t…”
He ignored you, rubbing your clit vigorously. He grabbed your hip with his other hand, keeping you anchored to him so his thrusts filled all your available space. It was an onslaught of pleasure and you were too close to stop yourself now.
“At least you’ll never have to feel that…”
Slam.
“…hard…”
Slam.
“…rough…”
SLAM.
“…dead hunk of melted flesh against—”
It was too late and he fell silent, watching your body shake and groaning under his breath as you pulsed against his cock. “Fuck sweetheart, you’re something else…”
He rolled you off him, standing at the side of the bed and yanking you closer by your legs. He plunged back inside without warning, sliding in easily and pushing your knees up to your chest so he could get a deeper angle. He fucked you like he was going for gold, wrapped up in himself, watching his own cock disappear inside you faster and faster until the build-up became too much and he poured inside you, thrusting into you a little deeper than was comfortable. You stayed there, staring at the head of the antelope on the wall that was literally craning its neck to gaze at the bed. They were all staring at the bed. As he pulled his cock out until only the head remained and milked the last few drops into you, you made the bitter realisation that this wasn’t the bed where ‘queens were made’, it was the bed where conquests were won.
“You know, if you’re lucky…” he grinned, breathless and exhausted. “That might’ve just worked.”
He climbed off you and went to clean up in his private bathroom, leaving you to wonder which was worse: that he’d made you come while thinking of Daryl’s injuries or that you’d enjoyed fucking Negan in the first place.
“You can let yourself out,” he prompted from the doorway, wiping his softening cock clean with a towel. “My other wives will show you where you’re sleeping.”
You didn’t answer, just pulled the ill-fitting dress back on and zipped it up as far as you could reach. The only form of defiance you showed was to pull off the ridiculous high heels they’d put you in before you left his room and shut the doors firmly behind you.
You weren’t in the mood to go back to the women who’d rushed around trying to prepare you for this. Not yet. There was only one person you wanted to see.
You padded down the corridor, your bare feet barely making any noise. Once you were downstairs the cool tiles turned into dusty concrete. You had no idea where you were going, you just kept walking through the maze of corridors until you managed to stumble across someone. An older man with curly hair and a long, drawn face. Surprisingly, he looked sympathetic. He had soft eyes.
“You’re Negan’s new wife, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be wandering around.”
“I need to go to the infirmary.”
“You need to go, do you?” he asked, nodding slowly to himself. “Did Negan tell you to go?”
“Yeah.”
“Well I could take you there. Better just radio in with Negan first to make sure…” he said, unhooking the radio from his belt and hovering over the speaker button.
“He doesn’t want to be disturbed,” you said quickly, taking a step forward.
“Uh-huh. And I’m sure you’re telling the truth,” he replied, his eyes never leaving your face. “But still, better safe than sorry.”
“Wait!” You put your hand over the radio before the man could call it in, looking him in the eye and hoping he might just take pity on you. He clipped it back onto his belt and took a step back.
“You need to go back,” he said, keeping his voice soft. It wasn’t the kindness you’d wanted from him but it was all you were going to get, so you headed back to the stairs and turned the corner while he watched you leave. Once you were out of sight, you lingered on the steps until you heard him start walking again.
His footsteps were getting closer. You closed your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t go so far as to check the staircase. As you waited, you could feel something running down your thigh but before you could wipe it away, the man came around the corner.
“Do I need to take you back upstairs?” he asked. But just as he was about to take your elbow and lead you back up, he saw the drop of semen creeping towards your knee and let out a deep sigh. Instead of pushing you forward anyway, he took out a handkerchief and handed it to you. You would’ve refused it but he’d taken the tiniest step back and you thought maybe you could appeal to his sympathy. So you wiped your leg clean and he reached to take it back.
“I didn’t see you and you didn’t see me, got it?” he asked, and you nodded. You could tell he was on the verge of changing his mind as he shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket and stared you down. You didn’t dare move. His gaze fluttered to your thigh for a second and then he sniffed and looked away. “Your friend’s down the corridor. Take a left, then a right. The door’s ajar, you’ll find it.”
He didn’t wait to be thanked, just headed in the opposite direction to yours and let himself into one of the rooms. You didn’t waste any time, rushing down the corridors until you found the doctor’s office.
Part of you regretted coming the moment you breathed in the awful smell of burned flesh. Daryl’s hands and feet had been strapped down to the hospital bed (not that there was much chance of him trying to escape in that state) but his face was blocked from view by the doctor tending to him.
“Is he…?” you asked, and the doctor turned to look at you, exposing Daryl’s face in the process. Thankfully, the burned half was already dressed and hidden from view.
“I’m awake,” Daryl croaked, his voice strained after screaming. Despite the damage, he still sounded strong.
No… it wasn’t strength.
It was anger.
“Has he done it yet?” he asked, trying to turn his head to see you with the one eye that wasn’t wrapped in gauze. You stepped up to the bed to make it easier for him.
“Done what?”
“…got you pregnant.”
Your guilty expression probably said it all, the memory of imagining Daryl between your legs hitting you full force. You looked away, sick to your stomach that Negan had pushed Daryl’s pain into your pleasure. It was fucked up.
“I don’t know,” was all you could mumble. You could feel him staring.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked. You shook your head and he raised his voice. “What the hell were you thinking? You know you’ve fucked this up for all of us right?”
“He’s on a lot of painkillers,” the doctor cut in from the corner of his office, where he’d been doing a great job of pretending not to exist. “He might not be aware of what he’s say—”
“I know what I’m sayin’,” Daryl snapped, coughing with the effort of raising his voice. You rubbed his shoulder, as if that would help anything. “Nah, you’ve turned everything to shit,” he said, pulling away from you the best he could in his restraints. You stopped touching him. “Rick was gettin’ ready to fight this asshole and you had to go and be a damn hero. You always do this. You think you ain’t good enough so you do dumb fucking shit to try and prove yourself. Least when I was brought here, I didn’t give the prick that killed our friends the satisfaction of winning. But you been here five minutes and you already let him between your legs. Is this what you wanted? Did you want to fuck him?”
You glared at him, but didn’t want to add insult to injury by yelling in his fucking face. Besides, you weren’t sure how defiant you could be after the way you’d enjoyed yourself.
“Goodnight Daryl,” you hissed, heading straight for the door.
“Woah, woah, woah…”
It wasn’t Daryl. It was Negan and he was standing right in front of you. “What the hell are you doing here, Y/N?”
“I was just—”
“I know what you were doing. Didn’t I tell you to go back to the rest of my girls?”
You nodded and went to move past him, but he put his arm out, leaning against the doorframe and blocking your path. “I really think we need to make the rules clear here. So from now on, you don’t speak to Daryl unless I say you can.”
You opened your mouth to argue but he held a finger up to silence you. “Now, I’m in a good mood because I just had some very good sex,” he grinned, putting both hands on your waist. “But you do not want to make me angry or Daryl’s recovery process is gonna be real long.”
You glanced over at Daryl but his eyes were fixed on Negan now, like he was imagining all the horrible ways he wanted to kill him. Negan raised his voice, making it clear he was talking to everyone in the room.
“Doctor Carson, tell Y/N here what happens if Daryl’s fucked up face doesn’t get treated properly.”
“It could get infected, which would be potentially life-threatening,” Carson replied, sounding a lot more annoyed now that Negan was in the room.
“Especially if I decided we couldn’t spare the antibiotics,” Negan smiled. “See, Daryl’s in a sensitive state right now. He needs retraining. Don’t you Daryl?”
Daryl continued to glare and after a short stare-down, Negan laughed. “See what happens when a mutt gets out of his cage? You have to start from the very beginning. So, I better not find you speaking to him again. That clear?”
You finally looked away from Daryl and back at Negan. “It’s clear.”
“Good. Now go to bed.”
You stared at him for a second longer but then left the room without looking back. When you got back to the harem, you saw Tanya, Amber and a redhead who introduced herself as Frankie, had waited up for you. Tanya grabbed a glass of scotch from the table and rushed over to you, wrapping an arm around you and leading you further into the room. They were all dressed in lingerie which you assumed was their only choice of pyjamas. You spotted a few choices that’d been laid out for you, but none of them mentioned it and you weren’t in the mood right now.
Tanya stroked your back as she handed you the glass and took the shoes from you. “Was it alright?”
Summary: Bucky goes out to a bar and bumps into a familiar face from his days with Hydra.
Pairings: Bucky x Reader (from Bucky’s perspective)
Challenge: Hurricane by Luke Combs, by @yellowtheremarvelfan
Word Count: 5,580
Warnings: Smut, oral (of both kinds), unprotected sex
“We were meant to see this in the theatre,” Steve told Sam as he slipped the Forbidden Territory DVD into the player. Bucky smirked to himself from the kitchen as he poured the popcorn into a bowl. It was something from his past he’d only recently remembered – so of course Steve went out of his way to get hold of a copy of the original movie. The apartment he shared with Steve was small, so Bucky didn’t need his amplified hearing to hear Steve’s retelling of the story. “Except Buck ran into a couple of gals going to see The Gay Divorcee.”
“So you went and saw the Gay Divorcee instead,” Sam said, filling in the gaps.
Bucky returned with the popcorn in hand and sat down on the couch cushions they’d thrown on the floor. “Not quite,” he laughed.
“No, because we only had money for two tickets and Bucky over here offered to buy the girls’ tickets for them.”
“Hold on a minute. You’re telling me you paid for some chicks to see a movie by themselves? Smooth move.” Sam shook his head, hand diving into the popcorn bowl as Forbidden Territory started to play.
“I told them we were gonna get popcorn and meet them in there. Me and Steve used to break into the movies all the time when we were kids. Just slide in through the fire exit, no one noticed.”
“Except they’d gotten wise to it by then. We bust the door open to find a security guard standing right in front of us.”
“He chased us half a mile. Only stopped ‘cause Steve had an asthma attack and the guy felt bad.”
Sam drowned out Steve arguing with Bucky about the ‘real’ reason they stopped getting chased, because he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He paused, popcorn halfway to his mouth. “It’s Natasha,” he interrupted. Suddenly Steve and Bucky were on high alert, movie forgotten. “It’s Clint’s last night before he goes back to the farm. She wants to go out for drinks.”
“All of us?” Bucky asked, his mouth dry.
“Yeah, you too Tin Man.”
Sam showed them the text: Can you drag the dinosaurs out of extinction for one night?
There was a tense moment as Steve and Bucky stared at each other. Forbidden Territory bumbled on forgotten in the background. “Clint’s the one with the bow right?”
“Yeah, he was on our side.”
Fuck. That meant Bucky owed him. He peered over at Sam’s phone, scrambling for an excuse. “Could’ve been a mistake. Maybe she meant dinosaur. Singular.”
“Nat?” Sam laughed. “You think she’s ever made a typing error in her life? Seriously.”
Bucky knew it wasn’t a mistake. Sam was right, Natasha Romanoff didn’t make mistakes. He knew how meticulous she was because he remembered training her back when he was the Winter Soldier.
He’d trained her alongside you. Or more accurately, he’d watched you getting your ass kicked.
As the Winter Soldier he’d stalked the floor, his back always to the cage as he watched you from every angle. You weren’t a trained assassin like Natasha and you hadn’t been pumped full of serum like the Winter Soldiers. Hydra said you had a special gene they’d activated that allowed you to transmit electricity at will to anything you touched.
He only spared a few words for Natasha: No skin contact. Your boots are insulated, use them. But his advice to you went from plentiful, to nothing but a cold disappointment. You couldn’t control your abilities, which made you weak. You were barely more than a civilian.
Natasha kicked you square in the chest and you collapsed, coughing for air.
“Hvatit,” he ordered, (enough), and Natasha backed off, leaning against the bars as she caught her breath. The Winter Soldier stood over you.
“She shocked me a little,” Natasha said, in English for your benefit.
“You didn’t flinch,” he shot back, never taking his eyes off you.
“I’m trained not to.”
“Get up,” he spat, firmly kicking your thigh. You got to your feet, bruised and exhausted, waiting for reprisal as he stared at you with those dead eyes. But he didn’t use words.
He swung for you with his fist but you managed to dodge the blow, more out of luck than skill. But as you readied yourself for the next swing he’d already changed tactics, grabbing your calf and pulling, which sent you falling hard to the stone floor. The force knocked the wind out of you and before you could get your bearings he was on top of you, his metal hand around your throat. You thrashed against him but he was immovable, and stronger than you could ever hope to compete with. It was futile but you grabbed his arm with both hands anyway, trying desperately to pull his hand away. He shifted his stance slightly, his knee digging into your hip and sending a sharp pain shooting through your body. If he wasn’t cutting off your air you would’ve screamed, but thankfully you did something much more useful. You managed to use your power – and with both of your hands on his vibranium arm you gave him a shock so powerful that he screamed and let go of you immediately.
It changed something in him. His eyes weren’t dead anymore, they were wide and confused. Scared. You could almost see him trying to work out what was happening. Where he was, why he was attacking a woman and whose eyes he could feel on him from the edge of the cage. It was the only human thing you’d witnessed since Hydra had brought you here and you reached out and touched his hand. He swallowed and climbed to his feet, backing away from you.
“Go again,” he croaked to Natasha – and if she’d noticed the change in him, she ignored it.
You’d escaped Hydra two years before Bucky had and found sanctuary in a school full of mutants. Full of people like you. Hydra soon replaced you with a pair of twins, which turned out to be the last tenuous link Bucky had to you.
“Is the kid going?” Bucky asked. Steve knew where his mind had gone.
“Wanda? I don’t know. Her and Clint are pretty close, there’s a good chance she’ll be there.”
“Do you think—”
“Dude, you’re going,” Sam interrupted, already texting Natasha back. “It’s about time you get out of this goddamn apartment. Besides, I need to see these ‘women skills’ in action.”
The bar was fairly quiet, but then again it was Thursday night. It was the perfect reintroduction Bucky needed. The woman behind the bar was as polite to him as she was to the rest of the patrons who flirted with her and it gave him a chance to practise some of his rusty lines.
“Better watch this one,” Sam grinned at the barmaid as he grabbed some of the drinks. “He’s the kind of guy who’ll buy you movie tickets and never show up.”
Bucky laughed and shook his head, thanking the woman as he turned to take the last of the drinks back to their table, but a flash of blue stopped him in his tracks. Beer sloshed onto his boots from the sudden stop and he kicked it dry absentmindedly. A mutant was at his table, laughing with his friends. He hadn’t felt quite as secure since Wanda started hanging out with the mutant crowd – your crowd. He pulled himself together, giving the newcomers a forced smile as he set the drinks down. Steve gave him a knowing look. He knew all about you. You were one of the first people he tracked down on the hunt for Bucky – the only other Hydra escapee this decade. He could tell you knew Bucky from the look on your face and he pressed you about it until Professor Xavier ‘kindly’ asked him to leave. Thankfully, you weren’t with them tonight.
“There’s a lot of mutants, Buck. She doesn’t even live at the school anymore, don’t worry,” Steve smiled, slapping Bucky on the back. Bucky let out a deep sigh and forced another smile. Steve was right though. Just because you were one of them, didn’t mean you knew every mutant.
“You are Bucky?” asked the blue thing with a tail. Bucky’s stomach twisted up as the mutant nodded at his arm. “Y/N told me about your arm. How did you—”
Bucky didn’t hear the rest. He’d stopped listening. Because you walked through the fucking door. He jumped up from his seat and escaped back to the safety of the bar. Steve was beside him in seconds.
“Relax, she’s trying really hard Buck. She’s not a threat.”
“You’ve been in contact with her?” he asked, his voice strained. He didn’t dare look in your direction. Right now, he could at least pretend he hadn’t noticed you.
“We stayed in touch. I know about the kiss.”
The kiss. Either Steve didn’t know everything or he was being polite. During your time at Hydra, you and Bucky had developed a symbiotic relationship. He’d forget about your connection every time he was wiped but you found a reliable way around that. Natasha would kick your ass and eventually the Winter Soldier would become so frustrated with you that he’d attack you himself. Every time he nearly killed you, you learned more about controlling your power. But more importantly, every time you shocked him he got a little piece of his old self back. After every shock, he could remember you. What the two of you were secretly doing for each other. The last time you ever saw him, he had you trapped against the bars, holding you above the ground by your neck. Your legs flailed and the panic helped you produce your biggest shock of all. The problem with that was, you weren’t just touching his arm. Your back was against metal bars and the surge of electricity tripped the security system, forcing the cage doors open.
The lights turned off, replaced with the flashing red emergency lighting a second later. Sirens blared and a voice over the speaker demanded everyone return to their quarters. Natasha obeyed the command, but Bucky didn’t and neither did you.
It was the first time the two of you had been alone and somehow, you both knew it would be the only time. A second of nervousness passed where the two of you just stared at each other, before his hands were on your face and his lips were crashing against yours. Both of you knew there was no chance of escaping. There was just this frantic moment and you both intended to make the most of it. You fumbled with his belt, moaning under your breath as he pressed his tongue into your mouth. Just as he pushed his hand down your trousers, there was a voice from behind him.
“Sergeant Barnes.”
Both of you froze, your hand on his belt buckle and his hidden beneath your waistline. He broke the kiss and let out a shaky sigh, forehead pressed against yours and his eyes shut tight. Wishing he could stretch out just a few extra seconds. But he could hear the sound of footsteps running down the hall so he pulled back, sparing you one last look before he walked away.
“Wipe him and keep them separated. It’s time to move Y/N on to Phase Two.”
That was the last time he ever saw you. Until tonight.
“I can’t do this Steve.”
Steve stared at him for a second. Bucky kept glancing in your direction but he wasn’t making any move to leave. “Two whiskeys on the rocks,” Steve ordered to the bartender who had been patiently minding her own business. Funnily enough, she’d been standing near the whiskey bottle. She probably recognised the look on Bucky’s face.
Bucky looked at you over Steve’s shoulder. You were talking to the blue mutant, and Bucky saw him mouth his name. Bucky. You looked at the table and then turned, clearly searching for him. Bucky took a fast step back, so Steve was blocking your view of him. Not the best hiding place if you already knew he and Steve were friends, but at least Steve was tall enough to hide behind now. The bartender set the glasses down on the counter and Steve gave her a sweet smile as he handed her a few bucks and told her to keep the change.
“There isn’t any change,” she laughed after counting it.
“I know,” Steve answered, still smiling. When the fuck did Steve get so smooth?
Bucky shook his head and pushed his glass away. “I’m heading back.”
“Clint’s not here yet. Drink. It’ll help you find your nerve.”
“I can’t get drunk. Neither can you,” Bucky reminded him.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t try,” Steve answered, leaning back against the bar and leaving Bucky out in the open. He quickly hunched over the glass, letting his hair fall in front of his face. “I haven’t seen you this worked up over a dame since Edith sent you that Valentine in eighth grade.”
“This isn’t about Y/N.”
Steve leaned in, like he was sharing private intel. “Thing is? It’s all about her.”
“Hi Steve,” came a voice that made Bucky’s shoulders tense. There was a pause and your voice became tighter as you added, “…Bucky.”
He swallowed. There was nowhere left to hide so he just nodded, keeping his head down. “Y/N.”
“You look good,” Steve smiled politely. “Doesn’t she, Buck?”
Bucky could’ve happily knocked him on his ass in that moment. Unfortunately, he settled for closing his fist around his glass, which cracked and shattered under the force and made him look like an idiot. The bartender jumped and Steve made apologies, offering to pay for the glass and cleaning it up. Bucky was ignoring him, partly because he was pissed off with the whole situation but mostly because without the glass as a distraction, he was forced to finally face you.
Steve was right. You looked good. Fuck. His memories of you hadn’t done you justice, because you looked so much healthier now you were free. His vanity made him wonder if he looked healthier to you too, or if he just looked as tired as he felt.
Your eyes moved from the broken glass, to him. “Do you want to sit down?” you asked and he found himself nodding and following you to a table just out of view of the others.
“So… you joined a school,” he said, wishing he still had the distraction of a drink to look at. Staring at the table didn’t quite cut it.
“Yeah. I’m not really a student though, I’ve just been getting help with the professor. He can control minds so he’s been undoing a lot of the damage that... well, we’ve been working through some stuff. We’ve been doing training sessions too.”
“Training,” he nodded. “What kind of training?”
You didn’t know him well enough to recognise the edge in his voice. This was the last place he wanted to be and you were the last person he wanted to be here with. But he was stuck here now and he was bitter. So he’d walk you right into a trap – the only way this conversation had ever been going to go.
“You know, how to control my power. How to use it.”
“Right. So you went from one organization that wants your power straight to another. Smart. You think it’s different because he calls it a school?”
He could hear himself being a dick but he couldn’t stop. You were caught off guard and looked hurt but there was this anger building up inside him that all seemed to be directed at you.
“We’re a family.”
“Is that what he tells you? Family don’t make you fight.”
“He’s not making me do anything!”
“You said his power is controlling minds, right? So how do you know?”
He could see the emotions flashing through your eyes. Disgust. Fury. Could he feel the hairs on the back of his hand stick up with the static in the air or was that just his imagination? He ignored the warning signs, pushing it further. “You can’t answer, can you?”
“I have to go,” you shot back, giving a tight smile that barely contained the explosion building inside you.
And you did. You left him sitting there on his own with a thousand things rushing through his head that he needed to get out. So he jumped up and stormed after you.
“It’s not my fault you left Hydra to join a cult!” he yelled, knowing no one inside would be able to hear him to hold him accountable. You walked faster, which did nothing to stop him gaining on you, yelling over your shoulder, “IT’S NOT A CULT!”
He grabbed you to stop you getting further away but whether it was mistake or habitual instinct, he’d grabbed you with his metal arm. You spun around, gravel crunching beneath your feet as you grabbed his wrist and shocked him. He yelped and let go immediately, stumbling away from you. For a moment he felt lost and confused. Vulnerable. Like a little boy who hadn’t followed orders. But when he glanced up at you, he didn’t see someone looking at him like he was a defective machine, barely worth the time it took to fix. He saw someone who looked ashamed of their own power.
“Are you okay?” you whispered, taking a step towards him. Your brows were all knitted up with concern. He recognised you. His anchor.
And you looked so beautiful.
He wanted to kiss you but this wasn’t some stolen moment in the Red Room. There were no alarms or guards turning this into a ‘now or never’ scenario. There was just the two of you in a quiet parking lot, with the night splayed out before you.
He sighed, as the first few drops of rain started to fall. “How’re you getting home?”
“I’ll call a cab.”
“Let me…” he started, then rephrased it. “Will you let me drive you home?”
You turned your phone over in your hands a couple of times and nodded.
“I’ll grab the keys from Steve. Don’t…”
“I won’t go anywhere,” you grinned, and he gave a half-embarrassed, half-relieved laugh as he took a few steps backwards and then finally headed back into the bar.
The atmosphere inside seemed so much flatter now that he wasn’t worried about you walking in. Maybe it hadn’t been dread as much as it’d been hope. He still didn’t trust himself to make sense of his own feelings, as much as Steve tried to help.
The table was full now. Clint had turned up – probably through the front doors like a respectable person and not the fire exit Bucky had chased you through.
“Hey man,” Clint nodded, patting Bucky on the back. “Heard these two knuckleheads dragged you out with them. Wondered where you were.”
“Hey, watch who you’re calling a knucklehead,” Sam grinned, beer in hand.
“Yeah, about that… Steve, I need to borrow your keys.”
Clint smiled sympathetically and said something about small steps, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Steve looked disappointed though, turning his glass around with his fingertips. “You can’t stay for one more drink?”
“It’s not like that,” Bucky sighed. “I’m taking Y/N home.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam interrupted. “You mean to tell me you hooked up with a girl and I didn’t even see it?”
Bucky couldn’t help grinning. Sam’s enthusiasm for everything was infectious, but the way he acted like everything was normal was what Bucky needed the most. Sam was the only one who didn’t look at him like he could fall apart at any minute.
Steve was hesitating. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
Sam tutted and jumped right back in with, “Cap, give him the goddamn keys.”
After another second of hesitation, he finally gave in and tossed Bucky the car keys. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Yeah, no fondue on the first date,” Sam smirked behind his glass.
Bucky said his goodbyes and headed back out to the parking lot, hearing Steve hiss “I wish I’d never told you about that,” to Sam over his shoulder.
His stomach dropped when he stepped outside and realised you weren’t there anymore. Maybe you’d just been humouring him. He couldn’t blame you – he’d done nothing but make your life hell in the Red Room and the first thing he did when he saw you again was yell at you. He leant back against the wall, keys clinking in his hand. The rain had picked up now, providing a static of white noise he couldn’t hear past. He hated that sound.
He briefly considered heading back inside but he’d had enough pitying looks for one night. He’d drive back to his apartment and make up some story in the morning. With any luck, Steve wouldn’t check in on him before he went to sleep.
“Bucky!” His head whipped to the left. You were there, on the far side of the parking lot, standing under a tree. “You gonna unlock the door or do I have to get soaked?”
The relief hit him instantly and a smile spread over his face. He braved the worst of the rain, rushing to the car and unlocking the door. Once he climbed inside and pulled the catch on the passenger’s side, you ran over and hopped in beside him.
“A beetle? Really?” you laughed. He’d never heard you laugh before.
“Yeah, Steve likes it,” he grinned, turning the key in the ignition. It took a couple of attempts before the engine started. You gave him the directions to your place and he drummed his fingers against the wheel nervously. Suddenly all he could think about was whether you’d invite him in or if this really was just a ride home. He’d done a good job of making all school-related talk off the table and since that was pretty much all you’d done since leaving Hydra, the car swelled with silence. It might’ve been comfortable on your end but Bucky was riding on his nerves so he scrambled for something to say.
“What’s the deal with the blue guy?”
“Kurt? He can teleport.”
“Right…” Bucky glanced in the rear-view mirror to make sure Kurt wasn’t hiding in the back seat. “But why’s he blue?”
You fell silent for a moment while you thought about it. “I don’t know. Seemed kind of rude to ask.”
“He recognised me you know. By my arm.”
This time the silence wasn’t a thoughtful one. Eventually he glanced over at you, trying to make sense of your expression. You were watching the rain through the window so it was difficult to tell. Maybe he was just trying to stroke his own ego but you looked… shy?
You cleared your throat before you finally answered. “We started talking when I was working on my training. I’d planned on doing it alone but he was insistent so uh… we said we’d do it together. Park up in that gap, my building’s just over there.”
He parked like you’d asked, frowning to himself. “Do what together?”
You rubbed the back of your neck, still hesitant to answer. Without the hum of the engine, the silence prickled between you. Only the heavy sheet of rain provided a distraction and it wasn’t a very good one. Eventually you mumbled, “Bust you out.”
“Wait, what?”
“You want a drink?” you asked, not bothering to wait for a reply as you quickly escaped from the car and ran up the steps to your apartment block, leaving Bucky in the car. He quickly followed your lead, locking the car before he jogged up beside you.
“What do you mean, ‘bust me out’?”
You managed to delay the inevitable all the way up to your apartment door, when Bucky finally took hold of your arm to stop you reaching for your keys.
“I was training,” you sighed. “So I could get stronger. Kurt was going to help me infiltrate Hydra so I could get you out. The professor knew about it. But just when I was starting to feel like I might be ready, Steve found me. Said you were on the run.”
“So… you were gonna come back for me?”
“Course I was. You think I was just gonna leave you in there and forget about you? You would’ve done the same for me.”
You were so certain about him in ways he couldn’t be. You’d seen something in him in the brief moments of clarity you’d afforded him back then and it felt too good to be true. But at least now he knew it wasn’t just in his head. You felt the connection as well.
He loosened the hand around your arm, running it up to your shoulder and then to your neck. His thumb traced your jawline, but before he could figure out whether kissing you would be crossing a line, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him into you.
He’d forgotten how good it felt to kiss a woman. Your lips were so soft that his own mouth sunk against them like pillows. He pressed you up against the door, trying to gain your full attention as you scrambled for your keys in your purse. It worked for a few seconds but as the kiss became more intense, both of you needing to catch your breath, it became obvious you really wanted to get inside and blindly routing around for the keys with one hand wasn’t cutting it.
“I can’t find my fucking—”
You didn’t need to finish the sentence, because Bucky slammed his hand hard against the door, right beside your head, and broke the lock. Then his lips were back on yours, one hand around your waist as he walked you backwards into your apartment.
“You better fucking fix that before you leave,” you laughed, as he kicked the door semi-shut behind him.
“I will, I swear.”
You didn’t turn the lights on but he wasn’t complaining, he didn’t want to be separated from you for a second. He was happy to let you lead him to your bedroom in the dark.
His hands found the edge of your shirt and dipped beneath it, and you raised your arms so he could pull it over your head. Thunder rolled outside as you unclasped your bra and dropped it to the floor. Bucky didn’t even take the time to look but he definitely took the time to feel. His mouth was back on yours as he cupped your breasts, feeling the weight of them and squeezing. They were nice – real nice – but he wanted something else.
“Can I taste you?” he whispered, hands moving from your breasts to your thighs. “I really wanna taste you.”
He took the breathy moan you gave as a yes. Lightening flashed and illuminated you for a brief second, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling your jeans off. He’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was to have his cock straining against his trousers – not that he was complaining.
He got to his knees and pulled his own rain-streaked shirt over his head, tossing it aside with your bra. “You got anything? Protection?” he asked. You shook your head. “Shit… alright.”
“Can you pull out?”
“Uh… yeah. I can do that. Lie back.”
You did as he asked, lying with your legs draped over the end of the bed. Without your eyes on him, he could take the time to properly admire you as he unbuckled his belt and kicked his trousers off along with his boots.
Rain battered against the window as he put a hand on each of your knees and spread your legs wide. He didn’t waste time with foreplay, with slowly kissing or licking up to what he wanted. Instead, the first thing you felt was his stubble right at the top of your thigh and his hot breath against your clit. He took a slow, deep breath and groaned, edging closer, lips against your soft, plush skin. Your toes were already curling by the time he spread your folds open with his thumb and gave one, firm swipe with his tongue from your opening all the way up to your clit.
“God you taste good, Y/N.”
Then he went to work. Ten minutes felt like an hour with the torment he gave you, his tongue dipping inside you, sucking and pulling your clit into his mouth, keeping you trapped there and swollen with the suction as he lapped at you. Every time you got close, he pulled back just enough to drag it out longer. He started to use his fingers, leaving you without his tongue in favour of watching you stretch to accommodate him. He slowly thrust into you, getting a little deeper each time. Once he was in up to his knuckle, he pulled out and stretched you wider with a second finger, starting the whole process again.
He had to wrap an arm around your hips to hold you down, not that he wasn’t having immense fun watching you squirming around, pulling at the sheets and cursing him to let you finish. It wasn’t until your angry cries of “Bucky just stop fucking stopping!!” mellowed out into soft pleas and ragged breaths that he pulled his fingers out of you, wrapping them around his cock and stroking himself, smearing your wetness along his length as he gave you what you wanted.
He pressed his face into you, furiously lapping at your clit and using his free hand to pull you against him and keep you trapped there. He was moaning into you, rock hard now as you got louder and louder. Finally, when your thighs closed around his head and trembled, and your orgasm made you curl in on yourself, he forced your legs apart and pushed his cock inside you to feel you coming for himself.
Your eyes flew wide and you both groaned in unison as he fucked you through it, pulling another orgasm from you before the first had even finished. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he had the good manners to wipe the taste of you from his face before you kissed him. Most of it anyway. It didn’t seem to bother you as you pushed your tongue inside him and he happily kissed you back. It would’ve been a lie to say that he hadn’t imagined what would’ve happened that day in the Red Room if you hadn’t been interrupted, when he was on his own at night and couldn’t sleep. You were the only sweet memory in the horror of that place.
But being tangled up in you like this, your fingers digging into his hips and your legs twisted around his to help pull him deeper, was better than anything his sex-starved mind had conjured up. But it was hearing you call him ‘Bucky’ while you asked for it harder that almost pushed him over the edge.
“Oh shit I’m—”
He quickly pulled out of you, his hand taking over where you couldn’t while he cupped himself with the other, ready to protect you from being splashed. Or so he thought. What he hadn’t counted on was you quickly sliding down the bed, pushing his hand away and taking him into your mouth.
“What are you… oh fuck…” He pressed his lips together tight as you took over, your tongue flicking against his head. He gently tucked his fingers into your wet hair, struggling between not wanting to tear his eyes away, and not wanting to come right then.
“I can’t hold it…”
He pulled back a little to give you room to escape but your mouth followed him, bobbing faster against his cock as you worked him with your hand. That was all the permission he needed. He kept his eyes fixed on you for as long as he could, watching you take him in that beautiful mouth. He only had seconds before you pushed him over the edge and he had to bunch the sheets in his fists to keep him from groaning loud enough to disturb your neighbours. He felt your mouth tightening as you swallowed around him, looking up at him with those wide, sex-glazed eyes. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
When you’d finished you took his hand, leading him further onto the bed and lying against the pillows. He collapsed beside you, looking like he’d just discovered the meaning of life. It took him a moment to realise you were gazing at him and trying not to laugh.
“Sorry… that was uh…” he mumbled, trying to catch the words inside his head. “It was… yeah. Wow.”
You leaned over at pecked him on the lips, grinning at him. “You want some cocoa? I want some cocoa.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah cocoa sounds good.”
His eyes followed you as you kissed him again and got up to walk to the kitchen naked. He heard you calling from the next room, “And you need to fix my lock!”
He grinned widely, rolling onto his front and burying his head into your pillow to hide his goofy smile. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.
