Reader Pronouns: She/her

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 –

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 –

affectionate, approving, beaming, bright, brilliant, broad, charming, cheerful, compassionate, dazzling, encouraging, enthusiastic, friendly, gentle, genuine, infectious, innocent, irresistible, placid, playful, pleased, radiant, reassuring, sweet, soft, sunny, tender, warm, welcoming, windsome.

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 –

cold, condescending, cruel, dazed, devilish, dry, enigmatic, evil, feeble, fixed, forced, furtive, grave, grim, haughty, helpless, ingratiating, insolent, ironic, malicious, meek, melancholy, mocking, mournful, mysterious, oily, reluctant, rueful, sarcastic, sardonic, scornful, shy, slight, smug, sober, strained, strange, stony, thin, timid, tremulous, triumphant, ugly, vague, weak, weird, wicked, wistful, wry.

𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 –

amused, crooked, knowing, mischievous, quiet, quick, rusty, sudden, vacant.

𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲 –

chapped, cracked, moist, plump, thin, tight.

I just started watching Buffy for the first time.

I’m really trying to decipher what it means that instead of an obsessive infatuation with Angel (cause, I mean, drool…) I somehow found myself here. Daydreaming about the mentor librarian.

I swear I don’t have daddy issues!

Hi me again! 👋🏻

I was wondering if you had time maybe to write a small fic (or one shot whatever you’re comfortable with) where the reader is Buffy’s cousin ( also library assistant or whatever you would like ) and the reader and Giles are in a secret relationship ( maybe smut?? ) and they’re navigating that and Buffy finds out and it’s this whole thing. If you’re busy I totally understand or if you just don’t want to, again it’s okay. I really do enjoy your work 🥰.

Not Unavailable, More Unimpressed

pairing(s): Giles x Summers!Reader

summary: what started out as a short term fling has gotten increasingly complicated when the reciprocity and sincerity of feelings is called into questions. pt.1 of ???

warnings: smut, fem!reader, drinking, hand job, a bit of breast worship, clothed grinding, riding, slight choking, age gap (Giles is in his mid to late 40's, reader is in her late 20s/ early 30s), reader has nipple piercings bc I said so and I think they are hot

an: This fic will contain smut so be warned. You are responsible for your own media consumption, read at your own risk.

The man at the bar was a mystery to you. He didn't quite fit into the bar atmosphere. He wasn't one of the barely legals or illegals who snuck in eager to drink, he wasn't one of the old guys who came to hit on the bottle girls, he didn't smell like a smoker or shoot whiskey like a drinker. He was also British, something that left an odd taste in your mouth.

You couldn't call yourself a regular here, more often than not you found yourself at the Bronze, purely per Buffy's request, which had okay enough booze and slightly better music. Here, some place clearly meant for an older crowd called Jack's, is where the older man sat. Alone, he sat at the far corner, sometimes looking longingly at the stage like he was a performer. He didn't look like a performer though.

He was older than you. He was greyed out and looked like he came from when TVs were still in sepia tones. He looked like Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird, like he was always a moment away from scolding someone. It didn't help that he always looked tired, like a lot of his age came from stress. If that was the case, it still didn't make sense as to why he chose a bar to be his spot to wind down.

It was loud. Not in the way that the Bronze was, a type of loud filled with life. A loud spurred by rowdy souls, people who couldn't let loose at home, so they came to one of the only shitty bars in the small town to drink a shitty beer and watch their favorite sports team lose. Not to mention the countless barely legals who got into fights with the bartenders after they failed to get their underage friends a drink. Jack's wasn't a place to have fun, it was the place to avoid doing something reckless during your midlife crisis. You were only there because of convenience, and after being there for a half hour were already beginning to get a migraine.

Job hunting was rough. When you moved to Sunnydale on behalf of your aunt, she offered to let you stay under her roof, but being a grown woman who got up to grown woman shenanigans, it would be more than distasteful to do it in Joyce's home. You were lucky enough that the housing market was great in the area, with all the supernatural happenings so one chose to move to Sunnydale, but that still didn't mean that a decent looking apartment wouldn't cost you a nice sum of money every month.

I could just work here, was your first thought. You were once a young college student also desperate for money, you had bartended, you could always go back if you lacked self-respect. You had a degree dammit, sure you didn't have a doctorate, but you shouldn't need one to get a nice quiet desk job. Neither option was all that fulfilling, but something told you that bartending in a town when demons just roamed the streets didn't seem like a great idea.

The mystery man looked like he had a nice job. Maybe a nice car. Possibly a nice house. He looked financially stable, and fuck was that hot. What did he do? What was there to do in Sunnydale? You could ask.

You looked at his hands to see if there was a ring or any indication that there was someone waiting for him wherever he came from. Maybe a picture of a kid, maybe a photo of a significant other. Nothing. Nothing.

You slinked over to the seat beside him, not meaning to make your presence immediately known yet he still looked up as he felt the heat of someone else beside him. His glasses perched low on his nose and his grey hair tussled. His eyes were green. He was pretty.

"Hello?" He looked at you confused. He took a moment to drink you in. Younger, gorgeous, clearly bold.

"Hello."

"Are you waiting for someone?" You shook your head.

"No. Are you?" and he'd be lying if he said he was.

☽✯☾

"You know, I don't do this often." He said between the rare breaths that were allowed in between suffocating kisses. Whatever he took up in his free time must've involved a great workout regimen. His hand sat comfortably at your neck, and you basked in the warmth that it provided in his cold apartment. His other held your cheek, his thumb mindless rubbing against it in a way that was hypnotizing. It almost had a numbing affect, your skin not being able to get past the feeling making your brain pause as he kissed your lips.

He tasted like fine wine. He smelled like old books. You half expected him to quote a classic at you, you didn't know him well enough to gauge if he was the type. His tongue contradicted his previous statement. These weren't the kisses of a man out of practice, that or he did it so much in his youth it was impossible to forget. Something like riding a bike.

"For a man who doesn't do this often, you're mighty good at it." He smirked; you could feel it against your lips. You wished you could see it, but he had the lights in his bedroom turned low and you weren't sure you wanted to open your eyes in the fear that you were dreaming. It was warm, he was so warm. So warm it was noticeable when his lips left yours and moved to your neck, hovering under your ears. His breath fanning against your neck was enough to send shivers down your spine.

"You haven't even seen how good I am, darling." The pet name alone made you weak in the knees, but you would be damned if you swooned at someone called you darling. Granted, you couldn't help how your mouth went dry or how your pussy clenched at nothing, but he didn't need to know that. He was going to find out, but he can find out later when your lust ridden brain stopped listening to reason and pride.

"Show me, then."

He dipped his head to kiss you, grabbing a fistful of your hair to tip your head back and you let him, grabbing on to his broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. You were pressed between the wall and him, pressing him even closer as you fisted his shirt to pull him closer, but he was hesitant to oblige. He was teasing, you could tell by the way he smiled into your kisses, pulling away like he needed air while you chased after his lips.

"You having issues breathing, old man?" The hand at your neck squeezed, not enough to choke you but enough to make your head even dizzier. His other hand travelled to any piece of skin he could get his hands on. Feather light, his fingers ran across your arms, then your collarbones, before knocking the straps of your dress off your shoulder. His kisses moved slow, his tongue damn near like languid waves that you were somehow managing to drown in.

Still, you chased after him, and still, he ran. His lips ran to the corner of your mouth, to the skin of your neck his hand didn't engulf, to where your strap lay useless. His kisses scorched your otherwise cold skin, his mouth sucking hickeys and then immediately soothing them.

He was so soft. Soft in how his hands found the back of your dress, soft in how his eyes looked into yours, asking permission without even saying a word, soft like the way the fabric slipped of your body and onto the floor. Soft like the bed he laid you on. Even soft in the way he continued to tease you, his knee meeting the crotch of your panties and him meticulously unsnapping your bra as if you couldn't tell he knew how to do it.

He then paused for a minute, finally coming across something he hadn't experienced before. His fingers took the ball of cool metal between his fingers, and you moaned at how it pulled ever so slightly at your nipple.

"What are these?" You chuckled.

"I got 'em pierced ages ago. Drunk night out with a few friends my senior year." He continued to play with the metal ball, well aware of how you keened and ground yourself into his knee.

"So, I can play with them." Fuck. It was how he said it. Like a nerd you might've messed around with in school because he was a good tutor but also because he had that nerdy charm to him. Like playing with your body was a game of Operations he had been so eager to play and was determined to get good at. It was easy to imagine Giles like that, fogged up glasses, eyes concentrated and focused on figuring out what buttons to press to get a prize. There was the curiosity in his lust-blown eyes, and in your lust addled brain you were fine with being his toy.

"Please do." He didn't need to be told twice. Avid learner he was, he went in, his large hands easily covering your breasts. His fingers pulled at the bars, drawing whimpers out of you the more he prodded. It wasn't too rough, Giles was too soft to ever be truly rough, but the feeling of his gaze, your clothed pussy rubbing against his soft slacks, and his large hands over your chest was getting a bit much. And he hadn't even put his mouth on you yet.

It didn't take long for him to realize the feeling of your pierced tits in his mouth was one of the best things he's felt, and it felt even better for you. A wet patch had long since been growing and he certainly felt it too, it egged him on. He wasn't even in you, he hadn't even tasted you, and you were almost there. You were so close.

You grabbed at anything you could, his shirt, his sheets, his hands that held yours as you rocked yourself onto his knee until you saw stars. Then he grabbed your face and swallowed your moans as he kissed and kissed you until you came down. A moment of clarity hit you, and you pulled on his shirt. "Off." you told him simply, and he obliged. You smashed your lips into his, peeling off button after button until the shirt was thrown to the side and his undershirt beneath was discarded with even less care.

"Issues with patience, darling?" You shook your head.

"Not fair I'm practically naked and you were fully clothed." His retort was cut off by your lips as you sat up to meet him, his hands absent-mindedly finding your breasts and yours finding his belt and making quick work of it before he even realized what was happening. You kissed him through it, anyway, still chasing after him as he pulled away to curse at the feeling of your hand around his dick.

"Gods." he muttered, words tumbling out clumsily as you rubbed the tip of his cock. He never had the control to pull away fast enough for an adequate breather, just a second to get a breath out and pray. You were flattered. His hand seemed like it wanted to swat you away, but it didn't have the strength to betray his brain like that. It felt good. Too good. So good he couldn't even think, and Giles never stopping thinking and now he was drawing blanks. He was sure you had mocked him once or twice, which went through one ear and out the other.

He caught himself thrusting into your hand before he caught himself, grabbing your wrist. "Hang on." He choked out, but you didn't listen. Your hand moved up and down his shaft terribly slow, and it was almost worse. Watching you spit on your hand and collect pre-cum from his tip and spread it like some sick simulation of what it would be like to be in you, and yet he couldn't help but watch his hand completely cover yours as you pumped him. Don't cum yet.

"I said hang on." His breath was ragged and his voice was deep. This time he meant it. "There are condoms in the top left drawer. Take one out for me, love." And you did as such. Did it with so much assurance that you slid it on without him even needing to ask you. Slid your panties off and sank down so fast neither one of you was ready.

You both sat there a moment, feeling your nerve endings tingle and burn, like you were both on fire. But you were on fire together. Like you could feel every atom in your body, like it had all been reduced to nothing but water, you were both feeling everything and anything yet absolutely nothing at the same time. So much feeling any nuance got lost in the moment. Just being there, breaths away, with a complete stranger you were sleeping with because he was pretty and looked financially stable.

You kissed him, a real kiss. Spontaneous. One with a feeling neither one of you could decipher and both assumed meant nothing. You rode it out until you had both exhausted each other, you falling on top of him and him catching you.

"Would you like to use my shower before you go? Did you need a ride home?" You cheesed to yourself. And they say chivalry is dead.

"Yeah, that would be nice." You had already rolled out of his bed in search of your dress and waiting for feeling to return to your legs. "I never got your name."

"Giles. Rupert Giles." You giggled as you shook of your dress after picking it up from the floor. Sounds about right.

"And what do you do for a living, Mr. Giles."

"Do these things typically end in interviews?" He made no effort to get out of his bed, he even had the decency to turn away while you get dressed as if he wasn't just balls deep in you.

"No, but I am new to town and would like to not be broke."

"I'm a librarian." Of course, you are. "Have you any interest in literature?" You did. You were a nerd. You had tried convincing yourself you weren't for years, but you majored in philosophy and minored in classic literature; and no one likes philosophy majors.

"I dabble a bit. Got a degree from all the reading I did if that counts." He looked at you like he knew you were trying to make yourself sound cooler. Nerd calls to nerd.

"Well, plenty of places are always hiring. The turnover rate is quite atrocious here." And even new to town, you believed it.

"I just might."

☽✯☾

You did end applying, you even ended up getting the job. Apparently, your little cousin's high school was in desperate need of a library assistant. You also had the pleasure of freezing when you saw Giles again and watching your little cousin greet her favorite teacher.

It was almost worth it for the look on his face, though.

I think I know where this is going, and I’m not mad about it.

Loving this series!

Look for the Light - 2

Masterlist

Summary: Four years ago, Joel saved you from certain death. In return, you followed him faithfully. Always ready to do and give him whatever he asked, despite the hurt it inflicted on you, body and soul. Agreeing to go with him to deliver Ellie to the Fireflies… this would be the last time you’d follow him… After this, your debt would be paid.

Relationships: Reader x Joel Miller, Joel Miller & Ellie, Reader & Ellie

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose to give none. Read at your own risk. 18+ (So excited to share this with you. So much to come folks! 🙊😍)

Series Masterlist - Part 1

"He hates me!" Ellie grumbled to you under her breath as she ate the last of the sandwich from her pack.

"He hates everyone." You snorted as you nibbled on your ration of jerky.

"He doesn't hate you."

"Doesn't like me." You grumbled in reply, a little louder than you'd intended but Joel made no sign of hearing you.

"So what's the deal with you two anyway?" She asked as she pulled Joel's coat closer.

"Nothing." You replied with a shrug.

"Bullshit."

"What do you-"

"I catch you looking at him all googly-eyed when he's not looking and I've seen him do the same when you ain't." She stated and you scoffed at that "It's true." She defended "He clearly cares about you and you clearly care about him so what's the issue?"

"I owe him my life." You stated plainly "He saved me and I have followed him ever since." Ellie gave you a bemused look as she waited for you to continue "He keeps me around because he saved me... All this is."

"You mean more to him than that." Ellie argued but you simply shook your head.

"No... I don't." You grumbled before eating the last of your jerky "Get some sleep. Got a long walk ahead of us tomorrow."

Ellie didn't argue. She ate the last bite of her food before laying down on the hard forest floor and pulling Joel's coat over her small shoulders. You watched her a moment before your eyes drifted to Joel again. The man was standing in the same spot he'd been a few minutes ago, eyes scanning the forest for any sign of movement.

You knew telling him to get some rest was futile. The man was as stubborn as they came so instead you let your head fall back against the tree you were leaning against and closed your eyes. The sound of the forest lulling you to sleep.

Joel meanwhile was replaying what he'd heard, over and over in his brain.

He keeps me around because he saved me... All this is

Did you really think that's all you meant to him?

Had he really given you no other indications of how important you were to him? He knew he wasn't good at showing any sort of real emotion. He'd shut that side away the day his daughter had died. He hadn't cried since that day either but he had hoped that the small things he did had given you the smallest indication that you were more than just a sidekick to him.

Then he remembered what you'd said to him back at the hotel.

So you're not fucking us both?

Truth was... He and Tess had broken things off the moment she realised that you meant more to him than just a casual fuck. She'd been okay with him sleeping with you occasionally. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been sleeping with other men occasionally but when it had come to light that his feelings for you ran a little deeper. That was it.

Her words to him just before they'd left her there to die amongst those monsters still echoed in his head.

I never ask, you for anything! Not to feel the way I felt.

Joel had known, deep down, that Tess' feelings for him were a little more than just friends. But she had never pushed him for more than he was willing to give and he had always appreciated that. So it hadn't come as any surprise that when she'd figured out that he had feelings for you, she hadn't wanted any part of it. He was sure that it had hurt her more than she let on but you can't help who you love. And he didn't love her.

Save who you can save... And tell her the truth... Before it's too late.

He was sure though, as he turned to look at you and Ellie, that if he told you what you meant to him. You'd laugh in his face"

I owe him my life

That's the only reason you'd stuck around. The only reason you'd let him lose himself in you when he needed a distraction. You felt that you owed it to him. The truth of it stung more than he'd expected but he couldn't let it distract him from what he needed to do. Get Ellie to Bill and Franks.

That was his mission now.

It was a five-hour hike to Bill and Franks. Five hours and then you could have a shower and eat some of Bill's amazing food. But for now, Jerky would have to do. You were sat nibbling on your measly ration, and Ellie sat silently beside you.

"Where's Joel?" She asked having woken up to just you.

"Gone to freshen up down by the river." You stated and she gave you a slight nod before returning to her own meal.

A few bites in, you were overcome with the sudden urge to hurl and you managed to throw yourself sideways in time before you were emptying the contents of your stomach onto the forest floor.

"Whoa, you okay?" Asked Ellie as she looked at you in shock.

"Yeah." You replied as you shook your head weakly and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

'What's going on?" Joel asked as he appeared.

Wonderful You thought to yourself as you looked up at the man.

"Nothing." You replied meekly as you shook your head.

"She just hurled!" Ellie exclaimed and you cursed the teenager's honesty.

"Really?" Joel asked as he stepped closer to you, his brows drawing together in what appeared to be genuine concern.

"It's nothing." You waved off as you got to your feet "Probably about to start my..." You didn't finish your sentence. Didn't get a chance before a wave of dizziness washed over you and your knees gave out.

Ellie and Joel were quick to catch you but you didn't thank them. You shrugged them off before tossing the last of your jerky to Ellie and stalking away.

"Just got up to fast." You growled before making your way out of view so you could relieve yourself.

"She okay?" Ellie asked as she watched you disappear behind some trees.

"How should I know?" Joel grumbled and the teenagers scoffed.

"You can pretend that you don't give a shit but I can see that you do." She snapped, eyes boring into the side of Joel's head.

When she realised she wasn't going to get the reaction she wanted out of the man she dropped it. No point in fighting a losing battle.

"You want your jacket back?"

Nothing.

"I've never been in the woods." She said then, changing the subject completely "More bugs than I thought."

Still, the man said nothing. She knew he was probably upset about Tess but it wasn't your fault or hers. Yet he'd been nothing but cold towards you both since it happened.

"Look, I've been thinking about..."

"I don't want your sorries." He growled, still not looking at the teenager.

"I wasn't gonna say I'm sorry." She snapped back and this grabbed his attention "I was gonna say that I've been thinking about what happened.

Nobody made you, her or Tess take me." She said as she motioned in the direction you'd walked in "Nobody made you go along with this plan. You needed a truck battery or whatever and you made a choice." She paused a moment, staring him down "So don't blame me for something that isn't my fault." Joel nodded, his eyes dropping to the forest floor "And don't blame her either!"

"I don't blame her!" Joel defended and Ellie scoffed.

"Well, you've been a dick to her since we left the city."

"It's complicated." Joel grumbled and Ellie just rolled her eyes at his reply.

"Whatever."

An awkward silence fell over them both for a moment. Neither party knew what to say never so your return brought them both to sigh in relief.

"How much longer?" Ellie asked as she watched the man finish packing his supplies.

"Five-hour hike." He replied plainly and the teenager nodded.

"We can manage that." She replied before looking at you and smiling. "You've gone this way a lot?"

"Yeah." You replied, as you grabbed your own pack and slung it onto your back.

"No Infected?"

"Not often, no." You replied before looking over at Joel. "Let's get going."

You didn't wait to see if they were following. You silently trekked in the direction of Bill and Frank's. You didn't want to talk to either of them about the fact that you'd thrown up again. You didn't need to add to their burdens. Once you were at Bill and Frank's, you'd be able to rest, freshen up and lay all this to rest.

So you walked. You walked as fast as you knew Joel could handle with his bad knees. You tried to tune out Ellie's chatter but the girl was a chatterbox.

"How'd you get that scar on your head?" She asked Joel but he didn't answer, his eyes fixed on you as you walked ahead.

"What? Is it something lame?" The girl pushed "Like you fell down the stairs or something?"

"I didn't fall down any stairs." He grumbled finally and you smirked.

"Okay, so what then?"

"Someone shot at me and missed."

"See, that's cool." The teenager gushed as she glanced up at Joel "You shoot back?"

"Yeah."

"You get him?"

"No, I missed, too." He grumbled in reply and you almost turned your head to look back at him "It happens more often than you think."

"Cause you suck at shooting or, like, in general?"

"In general."

"You know, seeing as it's just the three of us, I was thinking I should pro-"

"No."

It amused you how persistent the child was when it came to having a gun of her own. You knew it wasn't unusual for kids to be curious about firearms but she was bordering on trigger-happy. You wondered if she had ever fired one outside of the FEDRA school shooting range. You hoped she'd never have to.

When the rest stop came into view you slowed your pace a little. Knowing that Joel would want to stop and restock his munitions.

"Hang back a minute." He said as he made his way over to the entrance of the derelict store "I gotta grab some stuff I stashed."

You stopped by the door, waiting for Joel and the teenager to catch up. You couldn't help the quirk of your lip at Joel's obvious misery at the child's constant chatter. He wasn't one for talking much. Only when he had a few drinks in him would he loosen up and hold a conversation with anyone. But even then, they were short.

"Stashed?" Ellie questioned as she looked up at the run-down building "Why do you have stuff stashed here?"

"You ask a lot of goddamn questions." He griped as he stepped past you and inside.

"Yes, I do." Ellie replied, smirking as she looked up at you "So, are you gonna answer me or what?"

"We hide supplies on routes." You piped up as your eyes scanned the room "In case we find ourselves short on gear..."

"Which I currently am 'cause-"

"No way!" Ellie squealed out as she ran across the store "You ever play this one?" She asked as she turned her head to look at you and you shoot your head "I had a friend who knew everything about this game. There's this one character named Mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones." You grinned at her excitement.

Your eyes scanned the pilfered shelves as Ellie played around with the long-dead game. The frames, dirty and bare.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna take a look around, see if there's anything good." Ellie stated as she looked over at Joel and then at you.

"Trust me, it's all been picked over already." Joel grumbled as he kicked at the floor.

"Maybe, maybe not." Ellie shrugged as she made her way over to the back of the shop "Is there anything bad in here?" She called out as she looked through the dark doorway.

"Just you." Joel replied and you smirked as Ellie rolled her eyes at the man's reply.

"Getting funnier." She grumbled before stepping into the back.

"Where are you going?" He asked when he noticed you step away.

"Keep an eye on her." You replied with a shrug before slipping into the back.

Joel was right about the store being pillaged but there was still the odd item here or there. You shone your torch over the bare frames, hoping that you might find something of use.

"Check this out1" Ellie exclaimed and you turned to see her dropping down through a trap door on the floor.

"Ellie I don't think-" She disappeared before you got a chance to finish.

You turned your head and shone your torch down the remainder of the shelves, stopping in your tracks when it hit a familiar-looking box. You couldn't believe your eyes when you picked the item up to look at it better and without thinking you stuffed it in your pack.

"You all right back there?" Called out Joel and you turned to look back at the room you'd seen Ellie in a few minutes before, squinting when you noticed some movement at the trap door.

"Yep!" Ellie called and you smiled as you made your way towards the trap door, stopping when you saw that Joel had finally found what he was looking for.

"All there?" You asked as you stepped towards him and he nodded.

"Looks like." He replied "She being awful quiet all of a sudden." He said as he looked up at you and then at the door "Ellie?"

"She's fine." You said but he didn't listen to you, his brow pulling together the longer the girl didn't respond.

"Ellie!" He called out again but still, the girl didn't respond and suddenly you started to worry also.

Getting to his feet, Joel took a few ginger steps towards the doorway, ready for anything that could potentially come through it.

"Ellie?" He called out one more time and that's when the girl appeared.

"Picked over, my ass." She announced as she waved a box of tampons in his face and you smirked at her before looking back at him again.

"Told you she was okay."

Joel then finished swapping out the gun he had for the one he'd stashed and then, hid it all away again. A short while later you were walking again, dust kicking up behind you as you followed the dirt road to your destination.

"Holy shit." Expelled Ellie as she spotted a wrecked plain on the hillside "You fly in one of those?"

"Few times, sure." Replied Joel as he came to a stop at the girl's side.

"So lucky."

"Didn't feel like it at the time." Joel grumbled and you smirked, remembering your own experience of flying.

"Get shoved into a middle seat, pay 12 bucks for a sandwich."

"Don't forget the cramped ass toilets that always seemed to be occupied."

"Dudes, you got to go up in the sky." Ellie groaned.

"Yeah, well, so did they." Replied Joel grimly and your face fell.

Your walking on prompted the other two to follow. You zoned out the conversation when Ellie asked about how it all started, not wanting to be reminded of how one minute you were sleeping soundly in your bed and the next, you were being carried to the car so your family could flee the town you'd grown up in. The walk passed by more or less wordlessly on your part. Stopped only to look at the mass grave that sat at the side of the road, a sobering reminder of how the army had dealt with people they hadn't had space for.

You were an hour out when your stomach rolled again and you silently dashed for the treeline before emptying what was left of the contents of your stomach. Joel and Ellie watched wordlessly as you stumbled back out onto the road a few moments later but neither of them said a word and for that, you were glad. You didn't even want to think about what could possibly be wrong with you right now.

When the fence line came into view, you instantly knew something was up. The flowers outside of the house were dead. Frank would never have let them get to that state. The house looked desolate. It had always looked so lived in before and you shared a look with Joel, a silent conversation passing between the two of you as he stepped towards the gate.

Something was wrong.

"Stay there." He ordered as he inputted the code and entered the town, gun in hand.

You followed Joel with Ellie at your side. Heart in your throat as you studied the house closely. It all just felt wrong. The door squeaked open and you felt your heart leap into your throat as the empty house came into view.

"What the fuck?"

"Bill?" Called out Joel but he was met with silence "Frank?"

Still nothing.

"You stay there." He said to Ellie, before looking up at you "Ya hear anything, you see anything, yell."

"What if they're gone?"

You knew in your heart of hearts that the lack of presence from these two men was a bad omen. There was no way either of them had left this place.

You stepped studied the table and noted the rotten food that still sat there. Frank would die before leaving a mess. You stepped into the kitchen but you were greeted by nothing but the smell of rotten food. The smell was so strong that you ran for the sink, throwing up nothing but bile now.

"Ellie?" Called out Joel and you stepped back into the dining room to see the girl sitting there with a letter in hand.

Joel stood opposite her, a grim expression on his face.

"It's from Bill." She said as she picked up the envelope "To whomever, but probably Joel." She read before putting it back down again "I figured I fell under 'whomever'... Came with this." She said lifting up a car key.

"So they're dead?" He asked, his eyes darting up to you when you gasped at his question.

"You wanna?"

"Go ahead. You do it."

You stood there and listened as the girl read Bill's letter. Silent tears slipped down your cheeks as you started at the paper in her hands.

"I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep..." She trailed off, looking at Joel who then took the letter from her.

His shoulders tensed and you knew exactly what it said. You didn't need to read it to know.

"Stay here." Joel grumbled before stepping out.

"Should we go after him?" She asked you but you shook your head.

"No."

An hour later you were showering and washing the grime of the past two days from your skin. Joel managed to find some clothes for you all. Some jeans, a t-shirt and a flannel for you that now sat on the unit just outside. When you were done, your eyes fell on your pack, mind wandering to the item inside. You were sure you were just sick with stress but you wondered if perhaps it was something more sinister. Perhaps it was best to check.

You could hear Joel and Ellie as they pilfered the house for essentials. So you knew they wouldn't miss you for a little while longer.

You were sitting with Ellie when Joel emerged from upstairs, hair still wet from showering. His eyes raked over you a moment. Your knee bounced as you stared at your pack that lay on the table. You felt sick. Your stomach twisted in painful knots as you unconsciously picked at the skin around your thumbnail.

"Well, don't you look pretty." Ellie teased, pulling a smirk from you as you glanced up at him.

"Shut up." He grumbled, "Come on... time to go."

Ellie got up and skipped outside but you were slower to follow. Grabbing your pack, you threw it over your shoulder and started to make your way out, Joel stopping you when you reached him.

"You okay?" He asked and you nodded.

"Golden." You replied, giving him a smile that you knew was convincing no one.

Because the truth was you weren't okay... Far from it!

And you didn't know what you were going to do.

Next

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🔥

This is amazing

Heels

Daryl sees reader walking around in a pair of high heels from her new closet in Alexandria and it drives him wild!

Warnings: loving smut!

Daryl Dixon was a leg man. 

Whether it was the models in Merle's nudie magazines or the real live girls in his hometown, the first thing the shy younger Dixon brother noticed was a nice pair of legs. You had the best he'd ever seen. 

When you appeared at the gates of the prison in a t-shirt and shorts as Daryl and Maggie were clearing walkers from the fence, you were sunburned and bug bitten everywhere. They gave you a bottle of water, asked you three questions, then let you in. Daryl hadn't thought about things like attractive body parts since the world ended, until he watched you walk away up the dirt hill with Maggie. He was suddenly glad he had walkers to take his sudden, overwhelming frustration out on.

Daryl was glad you kept those shorts after washing them, and wore them often, even if it distracted him. But it wasn't just your legs. It was your smile, your kindness, your work ethic, your playfulness with Judith, and your devotion the group. Daryl fell in love with every part of you. 

You only saw enough of him to be intrigued. He never stopped, never rested, never stood still, and certainly never had a full conversation with anyone. He only said what was necessary and got back to it, whether it was going on a run or a hunt, building or fixing something, or keeping to himself. He wanted to talk to you the most, but he couldn't do small talk, he didn't know how to express his feelings for you, and he was afraid to say the wrong thing, in the wrong way. You tried to initiate many times. You could tell his gruff exterior shielded a shy, sensitive soul, but you never got very far. You mostly learned things from each other during runs, when the other members of the group got you both talking. You kept thinking there would be time, that at some point the two of you would become more than friends. Then the prison fell.

Daryl didn't know you escaped with Carol and Tyrese. He laid awake every night mourning you, regretting that he was too awkward and insecure to even be around you, despite how much he wanted you.

As he kneeled in front of a slaughter basin at Terminous, believing he was about to die, he saw your face and had a brief moment of peace, hoping to see you again on the other side. Carol caused the explosion that saved everyone, then led Daryl back to you. He fell to his knees when he saw you, wondering if he was already dead, but feeling like he was in heaven either way. You went straight to him, knelt down in front of him, and swept his long dirty bangs away from his eyes. 

"There you are," you whispered through happy tears. 

For the second time in less than an hour, Daryl Dixon broke down in a woman's arms. But he wasn't pried away from you as quickly or easily. 

Life on the road to D.C. didn't afford much time for romance. More fighting, more separation, more death, starvation, and moments of hopelessness kept you both from verbalising how much you felt for each other. But you both knew there was something between you. Fighting side-by-side had to be enough, though, for now. As long as your two legs kept trudging on, Daryl would follow you anywhere. 

Then Aaron brought you all to Alexandria. You and Daryl walked through the gates hand in hand. You both prayed that the safety and comfort of the community wasn't just an illusion. You hoped it was a place where you could finally stop and get to know each other. 

Once your group split up into separate houses, you and Tara shared one of the smaller houses a few doors down from Rick's house, where Daryl set up camp in the basement. 

It had only been a few days. There was still so much to do. You'd get to each other eventually. 

The night of Deanna's party, you went for a little while to be polite, looking for Daryl the whole time. After one drink you couldn't fake any more small talk or avoid Spencer's flirting and went home.

You walked around the few barely lit streets, still searching for Daryl, but gave up and went back to an empty house.

You didn't know what to do with yourself. Free time - what was that? 

You decided to snoop through your own house. It was only your second night there. 

You decided to dig into the closet first. You had pulled a few pieces of clothing from the shared pile when you all arrived but every house was full of necessities and luxuries.

The style wasn't exactly "you," but everything was brand new, clean, no holes, rips, tears, blood stains, or mud-caked fabric. There were pajamas, underwear, and stacks of shoe boxes. Most were loafers or sneakers, but you were shocked to find a pair of black high heels mixed in with the other unassuming shoe boxes. They weren't too fancy or dressy, just plain black patent slingbacks, about 4 inches high with a rounded toe. To you, it was like finding buried treasure.

You practically lived in high heels in your old life. As a teenager you never took a job where you couldn't wear them. You wore them to the grocery store, family bbqs, even church (surely God didn't mind a little kitten heel). 

You checked the inside for a size. 8 medium. Just like you. You sat on the floor of the walk-in closet and slipped them on. It was like going home. It didn't matter that were wearing a long boring skirt, that your hair was in a messy bun, that no one would ever see how fan-fucking-tasticly you slayed in those shoes. You felt it. You owned it. That feminine pride was just for you. 

Of course you could still walk in them. Bitch, please, you never forget how to do what you were born to do. You did a lap around your bedroom, the click-clack on the hardwood floors sounding like your second pulse. You strutted over to the wall-length mirror and rolled the waist of the skirt up. After the fall of civilization and 2 years of near-death experiences, the last fuck you gave was about any physical insecurities. So what about length, shape, scars, ankle width, thigh gaps, knee fat (which sounded absurd even in the old world), if your ass was too big, too small or not high enough. You were still alive, you had 4 walls and a roof, food to eat, people you loved, and a pair of classic high heels on your feet. 

You wished you had discovered them earlier. Maybe you could've worn them to the party? No, you wouldn't have. It was still the apocalypse, you were all fighters, you never knew what shit would hit the fan at any given moment, and being caught in heels or bare feet could mean your end. You all needed solid, practical boots and shoes to kick ass or run on a dime. And Spencer would've done a lot more than just flirt. 

But maybe Daryl would've seen you in them. Maybe he would've finally stopped - just stopped - and talked to you. 

You sighed and went downstairs for a drink. Every house had liquor in it too, and another glass of wine, in your heels no less, sounded like a perfectly civilized evening for a woman to enjoy.

After Daryl left Aaron and Eric's house with a stomach full of spaghetti, he ran into Glenn and Maggie walking home. 

"Y/N still there?" He asked, gesturing to Deanna's house. 

"She left hours ago," Glenn shrugged.

"Alone?" Daryl asked, cautiously. Did one of those pretty Alexandria boys get to you first, or was something wrong. 

"I think so. She just wasn't comfortable," Maggie said. "It's gonna take time to adjust, you know."

Time, Daryl thought, was all you had now. Time to build bikes and have dinner at a table and talk to the person you fell in love with.

"A'right, thanks," he said as a goodnight and headed to your house.

He climbed the few steps up to your door and saw the window blinds were still up. None of you were used to having any kind of privacy, and wanted to see what was going on around you at all times anyway. Before knocking he peeked into the window to see if you were alone. If any of those shiny assholes were with you, making you smile or worse, he didn't know what he'd do. But at least he was prepared for the possibility. The unexpected sight through the glass knocked him on his ass in a different way.

You were sitting sideways on a stool at the counter, nursing a glass of wine, your beautiful legs crossed under a short bunched up skirt, and high heels hooked in the foot rests. You were admiring your own feet, extending your leg out in front of you, letting the shoe dangle off your toes, then reaching down to slide the strap back up your heel. You looked as sexy as you felt. 

Daryl was frozen as he felt all the blood in his body rush to one place. 

You suddenly felt someone watching you and looked over at the window. You jumped when you saw Daryl standing there staring at you and you quickly kicked the shoes off. He snapped out of it as you ran over to open the door.

"Daryl? You scared me!" You said with a smile, trying to play it cool, like he didn't just see you acting privately ridiculous.

"M'sorry sorry, I just, I wanted, I gotta," he stuttered and stumbled over his words.

"You wanna come in? I found a really good bottle of wine," you asked, to his relief.

He cleared his throat, put his hands in his pockets and bounced his leg to calm himself down, then nodded and followed you inside.

You ran ahead to kick the shoes where he hopefully wouldn't see them and hopped back on one of the stools. Daryl walked over to the stool next to you but didn't sit. He looked over at the shoes, knowing exactly where they were, and where he wanted them to be.

"Why'd you take 'em off?" He asked in that low, gravelly voice that immediately turned you on.

You didn't lie or play dumb. You finished your glass of wine in one gulp and said, "I was just being stupid. Can you please forget you ever saw me in those?" You felt your face burning and concentrated on your empty glass.

"No, I can't forget. Don't wanna either," he confessed. 

You looked up at him as every part of you started tingling. His blue eyes were burning into yours. He moved closer, looked down at your exposed legs, and asked, barely above a whisper, "Will you put 'em back on?" He then bit his lip, almost ashamed at what he'd just asked you. 

You were silent, dumb-founded. Just as Daryl was about to say nevermind and run out, it was your turn to surprise him by asking "Will you put them on me?"

He spun around to pick the shoes up, then knelt down at your feet. He had no idea what he was doing. He'd never even held a pair of high heels before, nevermind knew how they went on, especially with that strap. But he finally had the chance to be so close to the perfect legs that he longed to touch for over a year. If he could literally worship you at your feet, he'd figure it out as he went. 

You held up one pointed foot for him. He slid the right shoe over your toes. As your arch rested against the sole, he realized how to place the strap, just as if he was re-stringing his crossbow. When both shoes were on he kept a hold of your ankle and softly ran his other hand up the inside of your calf. Both of you held your breath as he reached your knee and looked up at you, silently asking if it was OK to go further. You nodded and parted your knees a bit. Daryl stood up and stared you down as his fingers gently advanced up your inner thigh. Just before he got to the soaking wet center of your underwear, he moved to the other leg, this time caressing your outer thigh. He stepped closer to you, in-between your now open legs. 

"I've wanted to touch these legs since the day you walked up to that fence," he sighed peacefully as he finally got to hold the object of his desires.

"I would've let you," you said eagerly as you pulled him even closer and pressed yourself against him. "I'm letting you now." You lifted one leg to his waist and he panted as he rubbed all the way up your thigh to your hip. 

You reached up to cup his face and bring it down to yours. You moaned into each other's mouths as your parted lips joined. You could feel his chapped lips and the soft wet inside as your mouths joined. When your tongues began to dance, you lifted your other leg, wrapped it around his waist, and melted into him.

You both released a year's worth of pent-up yearning in the kiss. You leaned back against the counter and gasped when you felt his hard bulge pressing into your center. You moaned louder and started grinding against him. 

"Daryl? Take me upstairs?" You begged as you looked into his eyes.

He grinned and said, "Only if I can watch you walk up in them heels."

You laughed softly and bit your lip sheepishly.

He released your legs and you hopped off the stool and sauntered across the living room. He followed you but stayed at the bottom of the stairs as you ascended, watching you confidently sway your hips with each step higher. Daryl's leg twitched rapidly as more of the back of your thighs became visible and his cock was straining against his pants. When you reached the landing and looked down at him over your shoulder, he bolted after you, clearing 2 or 3 steps up at a time. When he reached you he pulled you up off the ground and you wrapped your legs around him again. He pushed you against the wall and kissed you deeply.

"You got the sexiest fuckin legs I ever seen," he grunted as he rubbed into you.

"Oh, these old things?" You grinned before capturing his lips again. His grinding became overwhelming and you cried out into his kiss.

"Which one's yours?" He asked, looking down the hallway leading into three bedrooms. You pointed to the closest one. He carried you in and kicked the door shut behind him, then laid you on the bed. He tried to stand up but you locked your ankles together behind his back and held on. 

"I'm not letting you go!" You smiled. "I've waited too long for this! Please, Daryl? Can we finally do this? All of it?" You turned serious. "Please stop avoiding me."

"I was never…" He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself for causing you to think such things. "I don't know how to say things. 'Specially to you. And it kills me cuz I never wanted to say so much to somebody before." He gulped and kept going. "Never loved a woman the way I love you. Never thought a woman like you would want me."

You realized how much he'd confessed before he did.

"You love me?" You asked as tears welled in your eyes.

He nodded and rubbed your noses together. "You don't gotta say it back."

"You think I let just any man between my legs?" He smiled and shook his head, ticking your face with his long dark hair. "I love you, Daryl. But right now, I'm not that interested in talking," you continued, feeling bolder than ever. "So if there's something you don't know how to tell me, can you show me instead?"

"I can do that," he said in a confident, heated voice. He stood up, turned the bedside lamp on, and pulled his vest off. You sat up to help with the buttons but he gently stopped your hand and held it. His eyes turned sad and vulnerable.

"You can leave it on," you said softly. 

He shook his head and swallowed hard. "I want ya to know. Just… never showed nobody before." 

He released your hand and you both unbuttoned it together. You pushed his shirt open by rubbing your hands across his chest and felt the raised, bumpy scars before seeing them. They stopped you cold, and you suddenly understood a whole lot more about him. 

He hung his head and looked down, ashamed. You lifted his chin and pushed the hair away from his eyes. "Don't you ever hang your head, Daryl Dixon."

He huffed appreciatively, humbly, with a faint smile. You pressed your right hand over his chest and wrapped your left around his back, only to feel more jagged lines marking his strong body.

"The back is worse," he said, barely above a whisper.  

"You can tell me," you said as you both held each other.

"Later," he said dismissively but assertively before kissing you deeply again. His fingers hurriedly bunched up your shirt to pull it over your head. He tugged at your bra straps too, then pushed down at the waistband of your skirt. His hands roamed everywhere but his mouth never left yours. You shimmied out of your underwear too and kicked off one shoe but he broke away and said, "leave 'em on."

You smiled and stepped back into it. He took a few steps back to look at you as you stood there in nothing but the heels. You felt instantly self-conscious, unsure of what to do with your hands, but Daryl's gaze steadied you. He nearly dropped to his knees to worship you but he willed himself to stay strong and instead asked, "You even real?" 

"I'm real," you answered in a voice breaking with emotion. "And I'm yours." 

You sat back on the side of the bed and waited for him. He began undoing his belt and jeans as he approached you. The size of his bulge was even more impressive up close. Once he was immediately in front of you he kicked his boots off and pushed his pants and boxers down, finally freeing his extended length. You wrapped your fingers around him and leaned in with your mouth open but he growled, "No." 

"I… I'm sorry," you said, taken aback.  

"Nah, don't be," he corrected, cursing himself for reacting so harshly. "S'just… I want your body, not yer mouth."

"You can have whatever you want, Daryl," you said in relief. You leaned back and lifted your legs up with your knees bent but still together. You raised your eyebrows and smiled. "I know you like these," you said as you kicked your right leg out to him. 

He smirked and grabbed your leg, lifted it straight up, and rested your ankle on his left shoulder, slightly parting your legs. He started kissing at your ankle and caressing up and down your calf and inner thigh, still bewildered that his year-long fantasy was actually happening. His mouth and hands had free reign on the pair of stems that he dreamed about, longed for, and jerked himself to every day and night at the drab, sterile prison you once called home. He pushed your other leg to the side and grazed your folds with his fingers. He worried that his lack of knowledge and experience between any woman's legs would betray him and leave you cold but your quiet little noises turned to prolonged groans. The sight and sensation of Daryl stroking your clit overwhelmed and weakened you, and you dropped flat on your back. He almost drooled at the sight of you splayed out in front of him, willing and begging, gripping his arms tighter with each movement 

"Daryl! Please! Now!" You cried. He couldn't wait anymore either. His jaw tightened as he held his cock and started dragging his tip through your juices. You bit your lip and whimpered, then begged some more, until he finally pierced your opening. You held on to his arms as he began to fill you. You both lost control of your voices, filling the entire house with half-finished words, yelps, and groans, the gibberish of ecstasy. You closed your eyes and felt every inch slowly invade your senses, stimulating places throughout your body and being that you didn't even know existed. When you opened your eyes you only saw the curtained windows upside down, realizing you had thrown your head back in the first throws. It was suddenly silent and you looked ahead to see Daryl again. He stood still, fully engulfed in you, his eyes squeezed shut, breathing through his nose like a bull, gripping your ankle as if it was his lifeline keeping him from falling into an abyss. 

"Daryl?" You asked hesitantly, almost afraid to pull him from wherever his mind had gone for balance. He opened his eyes and his jaw dropped at the sight of where you were fully joined. He inhaled like a drowning man coming up for air and whimpered as he tried to push into you further, rubbing the top of his groin area against your clit. You cried out his name and he froze again.

"Daryl? Are you ok?" You asked, growing concerned.

"S'fuckin good. So… fuckin good," he said through heavy exhales. 

"Come here," you said as you pulled him down over you. He released your leg and knelt on the bed. You wanted to ask if this was his first time having sex but didn't want to embarrass him. He seemed overwhelmed by the stimulation and unsure of what to do or how to move. He was indeed inexperienced but not completely. He'd only been with the only two other women - one paid by Merle to take Daryl's virginity at 15, the other a drunken girl he barely remembered who threw herself at him, then nearly threw up on him when it was over. But you, this, all of it - the connection between you, your survivor's body, your loving gaze, tender motions, and acceptance of a marked-up, middle-aged redneck - it floored him. 

You planted your feet on the mattress and lifted your hips, then dipped back down, pulling him out, but not completely. The loss of your tight, heated grip on his shaft spurred him into action. He lifted your legs from under your knees and started rapidly rocking back and forth into you, holding your lower half in the air as he pounded you. You gripped the quilt above your head and watched him fuck you as if he would lose you if he didn't. You knew he wouldn't be able to release his grip on you to bring you to your peak. You reached down to strum yourself with one hand and pinched your own nipple with the other. It only took a minute before you splintered internally and screamed his name. The sight of you pleasuring yourself and coming hard as he took you was too much for Daryl. The force of his heavy thrusts moved the bed on its wheels and knocked it into the nightstand. You felt him begin to sputter as you came down from your high. Despite not having protection, despite your shared risk aversion, despite watching Judith grow up without a mother, nothing on earth could stop either of you from experiencing Daryl finishing your first time together inside of you. It was too late anyway - he didn't have time to pull out before he exploded suddenly and deeply. 

You beheld the magnificent sight of Daryl Dixon's moment of pure ecstasy as the muscles and veins in his neck bulged while he leaned his head back and wailed at the ceiling, his biceps flexed to keep your open legs high, his scarred, heaving chest beaded with sweat. 

He stayed locked in place as his high ebbed away. When he finally shifted his weight and pulled out, you lowered your legs and rotated to lay with your head on the pillows. You patted the bed next to you Daryl smiled, then joined you. He laid on his side to face you and pulled your left leg up over his hip.

"You really love my legs, huh?" I teased.

"Can't get enough of these," he grinned as he stroked my thigh. 

"Do you mind if I take the shoes off now?" I asked.

"Alright. But just for sleeping," he joked. "Ya can't ever get rid of those."

"Never!" I promised.

Thank you for reading!

@littlegodzilla @mariannambl @darylsgarden @minervadashwood @ravenwings73

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

Y/N: *gifts Daryl a rock*

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

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

Daryl: NO

I cackled

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Commonwealth diner Waiter: What would you like?

Y/N: A chocolate milkshake with two straws, please.

Daryl, blushing: I—

Y/N, putting both straws in her mouth: Watch how fast I can drink this!!

Daryl: …

Y/N: Relationships should be 50/50.

Carol: I’m glad things are good with you two.

Y/N: Mhm. Daryl cooks us dinner while I sit on a stump and look pretty.

Carol, glancing over where Daryl is prepping a rabbit: Really?

Daryl, continuing with his task: Ain’t complainin’. You tried to eat ‘er cookin’?

Y/N: And I’m pretty.

Daryl, nodding: An’ she’s pretty.

Michonne: So... who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon?

Y/N: We're chopsticks!

Tara: Well... that's cute!

Tara: Does that mean you two snuggle together perfectly?

Daryl: Nah, means if ya take one away, only thing the other s’good fer is stabbin’.

I can live with any trope except the “she/he/they had a chance to come clean about her/his/their secret/lie/misunderstanding but didn’t and now the situation has spiraled out of control and coming clean only gets harder and harder” trope.

I despise it.

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here

Warnings - there are some adult themes here and some language. 18+ only.

Nothing too crazy in this one, though. Its a bit long, and hopefully it's not a complete snooze, but I think the next couple in this series will pick up the pace. Feedback is welcome!

“No,” was all Daryl said, barely more than a breath, as she climbed into the back of the empty van and sat across from him.  It was dark in the back of the van, but she could feel Daryl’s eyes boring into her. She could feel the anger pulsing off him. She didn’t know if he had heard what she’d said to get Negan to take her, if he understood why she was here, or if he was simply angry that Negan had taken yet another one of his people. She didn’t try to find out. She didn’t speak at all for the duration of the ride. It was too risky to try to let him in on the plan, with Savior ears just a few feet away in the front seat of the van, and anything else she would have wanted to say to him would have given their relationship away. She did risk one well timed touch of his hand, as the guys exited the van and walked around to the back. She squeezed tightly for a fraction of a second, as if she could transfer everything she was doing, or her promise to save him through her grip. A couple of guys ushered her inside before she could see where they hauled him.

“You’ll be in this room,” her less-than-friendly tour guide said, after leading her up 4 flights of stairs and into a large room that looked like it was once a break room. The far wall was lined with cabinets, a countertop midway up the wall, and an industrial looking sink embedded into its center. There were several saggy couches and chairs arranged comfortably in the center of the room, and a small refrigerator tucked into a corner near the cabinets. Each side wall held two doors, one of which her grumpy guide was holding open expectantly.

“Who is she?” a small, black-haired woman appeared in one of the doorways across the room. A taller redhead approached from behind the dark-haired woman, both examining the newcomer with scrutinizing eyes.

“New girl. She’s bunking in here, Negan expects you all to be accommodating,” Grumpy replied before nodding and heading for the hall. A moment after he exited the room, the unopened door beside her opened and two more women came out into the shared common room – a blonde and a tall brunette. Now that she could see all four women, she could see that across the gambit of physical differences – height, body type, hair color and length – they all had one very apparent thing in common. Every one of them was undeniably and objectively gorgeous.  It didn’t take a whole lot of thought to guess who had collected them here.

“I’m y/n,” she awkwardly waved to the four pair of eyes that had not moved from her face since they entered. “I guess you all live here too?”

They blinked at her. No one spoke for what felt like five minutes, and she was just about to turn and acquaint herself with her new room when one of them – the small, raven-haired beauty – finally spoke. “Why are you here?”

Something about the way she asked the question, not gently but not threateningly, told her the question was not a challenge. She wondered what that meant for why each of them was here.

“I was with an outside group,” she answered, “when Negan and his guys found them and… had a discussion. I joined up and came here, and this is where they brought me. I didn’t really expect gender separated dorm-type housing, if I’m being honest. Is the whole compound housed like this?”

“No,” the one-woman welcome committee replied curtly. She’s fun.

“Has anyone talked to you about your role here with the Saviors?” the tall brunette asked, gently.

“No, they brought me straight up here and pointed me into this room. You’re the first people I’ve talked to since we drove away from my old group.”

The women exchanged looks she didn’t understand, like her answer explained everything. They all seemed to relax a little and moved to different seats around the room.

“I’m Sherry,” the brunette offered with a shy smile. “This is Amber,” she pointed to the leggy blonde stretching on the couch nearest Sherry’s chair. “Frankie,” she pointed to the redhead settling into a comfy armchair and picking up a worn paperback book on the table next to it. “And Tanya,” Sherry said as she pointed to the dark-haired one who had welcomed her so warmly, perched on the arm of the sofa next to Frankie. “We’re Negan’s wives.”

Oh. Oh.

Sherry kindly gave a short tour of the common room and their bedrooms. She explained that they had opted to share two to a room - Frankie and Tanya in one and Sherry and Amber in another – because none of them liked being alone at night. She showed her the bathroom through the door beside Frankie and Tanya’s room, and then into what would be her own room. The room was large enough to hold a queen-sized bed, a small makeup table, and a wardrobe. Though the space was clearly corporate before, it was almost homey with a large, plush rug and huge frosted windows letting the afternoon sun in to fill the room in diffused, warm light. Opening the wardrobe, she found a small collection of short, black dresses, stacks of black leggings and tops, and a pair of black high heels.

“If anything doesn’t fit, just take it to one of the guys out in the hall and tell them what size you need. They’ll get it for you,” Sherry explained. “Since you’re new, he will likely want to see you tonight. You’ll want to make sure you’re in one of the dresses.” Sherry gave her an apologetic look. “You’ll also want to bathe right before. It’s one of his requirements.”

---

She was brought to Negan’s room at dinner time. She’d taken Sherry’s advice and bathed. It took two baths to get all the grime of the night before off her. She still felt dirty, but her skin had been a light pink and was a little sore from scrubbing – as if she could scrub away the memory of what she’d seen, what they’d all lost – by the time she got out of the second bath.

She’d chosen the most modest dress in the wardrobe – a short spandex dress with a boatneck neckline, no sleeves, and leather pockets on both hips. She looked good and considered taking this with her when she and Daryl got out. He’d like her in this.

Evidently Negan did, too. He did not hide his predatory smile as he took in every inch of her in the tight dress and the high heels.

“Well, now, if I’d known out in those woods you could look like this,” he drawled, “I would have grabbed you up with the other guy to begin with.”

Never mind.  She’d burn this dress if she got the chance.

“Please, have a seat and join me for dinner,” Negan continued, pulling out a chair for her at the small table in the kitchen area of his studio apartment. She could see a king-sized bed under large windows from where she sat, and had seen the sitting area behind her, with a couch, reclining chair, and coffee table, as she’d come in.

The table was set for two, a small roast on a serving dish in the center, and a large bowl of salad beside it. She realized as she took in the decadent scent that she had not eaten in over 24 hours. Her stomach growled loudly as evidence.

“You must be starving,” Negan said as he took his seat across from her. “Please, help yourself.”

“Do you invite all of your new recruits to a one-on-one dinner?” she asked him with a raised eyebrow and a side smirk.

Ew. Was she flirting with him? She knew she had to play nice but… maybe not that nice. Had he brought that out in her? She pushed the thought away and loaded her plate with the food, though she seemed to have lost her appetite.

“Unfortunately, not all of my new recruits look like you,” he replied with a devious grin. “Nor do they all come from Rick’s group…”

“Is that why I’m here?”

“Partly. We’ll get to that later.” As she forced her first bite of food down, Negan asked, “how are you liking my Sanctuary?”

She smiled sweetly at him as she answered carefully. “Truthfully, I haven’t seen much of it. I was led straight to my room and spent the rest of the afternoon settling in there. I did, however, meet your wives…” she gave him a knowing look as she continued, “I am apparently sharing a living space with them?”

“Ah. We’ll get to that, too. But first, how about an official tour, with the boss himself?” Negan rose from his seat and came around behind her to pull her chair out.

Negan offered her his arm as he guided her all over the factory. She hated to admit it, but he smelled good. Like minty soap, and bourbon. They walked for what felt like an hour, him showing her the living spaces for leaders, soldiers, and workers on each level, the large open warehouse area where he said gatherings and announcements happened. She nodded and asked a few minor questions as he showed her the open floor marketplace and explained the point system his people used as currency. She smiled sweetly at the cooks in the kitchens and oohed over the bikes and vehicles in the garages. Whatever she could do to make it look like she cared about any of this. Anyone they passed kneeled as they approached and didn’t stand again until Negan had well passed them. There was no sign of Daryl during any of the tour, no obvious holding cells for prisoners. Of course not, she thought, I’ve just hiked for an hour in five-inch heels with nothing to show for it…

Once again seated at Negan’s small dining table, a piece of frosted chocolate cake that had materialized in their absence now in front of her, she asked the question she dreaded the answer to. “So, what exactly will my role be here?”

“You haven’t guessed yet? There’s a reason you’re bunking with the rest of my wives.” He answered with a wicked grin. “Of course, if that’s your choice. Women get a choice here; nothing is forced on them. But I would hate for you to start your life here in debt. You see, my wives have everything they need or want. They have access to the whole compound, a queen in a palace. But if someone were to come in, take advantage of those things and refuse my hand… well, that person would need to pay for my generosity.”

Shit. The clothes, the bedroom, the bath she’d taken… this meal she’d forced down… she could only guess how steep the price would be. Her stomach turned again, she swallowed it down and pushed the thoughts away. She got herself here, she had to play the game. Somehow, thrown to the masses, fighting for her space there, and working off a debt to Negan didn’t sound like the easiest way to do what she came here to do.   

She said after a moment, “does a wife ever get the chance to be…more?” She needed a reason to be out and about, a reason to be among the guys and walking the halls. “Like in addition? A working wife, so to speak.”

Negan rubbed his chin, contemplating. “What did you have in mind?”

“I can be useful. I can hunt, I can fight. I’m a decent shot, and I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. In fact, I prefer it. I’ve never been much good at sitting around.”

Negan thought for a moment. “Well now, we just met. I can’t go giving you everything all at once… but I am a reasonable man… I can be persuaded. You prove yourself good enough to be out there with my guys, while keeping up with all…wifely duties,” she had to fight back a shudder at his words, “then I’d say we might have a deal.”

Not ideal, she thought. But surely being both could get her access to places and information she could use. Access to Daryl, if she played it right. This could work. At the very least, it would give her plenty of access to Negan, which is helpful when you’re planning to kill someone.

“So… is there like a ceremony or something?”

---

Her whole body felt heavy as she returned to her room. She was someone's wife now. Not by any legal means, and certainly not from any religious ceremonies. She told herself with each step down the hall, through the common room, and to her bed that it didn't count. It wasn't real. It was all just a means to and end - a means to him. To Daryl.

Her bedside table caught her eye as she collapsed onto the bed. A bottle of water, a piece of paper, and were those pills?

"To help you sleep," the note read, "and not dream."

She knew it was from Sherry, though she didn't know how. What hell had Negan put them all through that their escape was a dreamless, drugged sleep?

She felt it then. Something stirring in her that told her Daryl wouldn't be the only one she would save from this place.