Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 1. Darling Princess
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After the sneak peak tested well I decided to post the first chapter. I have many more already written and in the making but Iâll only post them if this gets a good reaction so please if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.
Sucking on another cigarette the stale tobacco burned your throat in a way you wouldâve been disgusted by years ago. You looked out your window down at the gate, walkers pulling at it to try and get in. It had been a couple of years since Negan took power and more than long enough for you to feel trapped. You held the smoke in your lungs, a small part of your brain wishing it would ignite inside you and let you combust, before letting it out slow and smooth. Luxuries like this were meant to last. Another luxury was the leather loveseat you were sitting on, and the black and blue mosaic coffee table your feet and ashtray were on, and the acoustic gibson on your lap.
You placed the smoke between your lips to free your hand so you could strum the strings. You were playing an old rock balled your old man had taught you what felt like a life-time ago. He didnât teach you to play guitar but when you came back from scouts playing campfire songs he insisted on teaching you some real music. You thought back on how many of his guitar strings you broke before that Christmas he bought you your own Washburn. The strings seemed to break less when the instrument was more your size. Those memories felt so distant now. As if they belonged to another person or were part of a movie you watched. The lyrics of the tune you were playing were on the cusp of coming back to you when your door opened violently somewhere behind you.
âMy dearest daughterâ Negan spoke as he entered your private room. You likened his new way of talking to that of a TV presenter. Always having to keep people on their toes. You used to think it funny when you were a kid but it wasnât part of his personality then. âWhat are you doing here? Dinner was half an hour ago.â
âIâm not hungryâ you shot back not even turning to face him, which would have been easy since the chair sat with its side to the window, but the walkers chewing on the fence were far more interesting.
âY/N, donât lie to me. You said the same at breakfast.â He sauntered over. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Lucille wasnât with him.
âFood I didnât earn doesnât sate my appetiteâ you shot back, leaning forward to put out your smoke in the ashtray. That must have stirred something within him because the next thing you know you were grabbed by your arm and dragged out of your room, the guitar hitting the ground with a sorry sound. You let him drag you without protest, knowing better.
You were pulled into a plush dining room, immaculately furnished with white cushioned chair and a long oak table, set with silver cutlery. There were five sets in total for you, your father, and three of his âwivesâ. You figured this was some sort of âhappy familyâ play heâd act out but you didnât know who the viewer was. You? The wives? The men? Or maybe knowing you didnât want to be here was entertainment enough.
You were shoved into a chair next to the head of the table across from Frankie. She looked comfortable while nursing her drink but you reckoned that wasnât her first. In front of her sat a bottle of vodka, distilled on-site by worker number 12. Fat Joey was filling the bowls with soup when your father shoved your chair in. He plopped himself into the chair next to you at the head of the table.
âNow isnât this nice. A big happy family dinner before your old man takes off tomorrow.â You didnât dignify him with a reply, instead motioning to the bottle of vodka in front of you.Â
âMay I have some, Frankie?â she looked at the bottle then smiled at youÂ
âGo ahead, Princessâ. You picked up the bottle and filled your glass half-way to spite her for that nickname.Â
âThank youâ you tried to be civil, as badly as you wanted to just walk off with the bottle, you sipped your glass instead.
You silently started the soup. The veggies were cut into large pieces. Perfect, chewing gave you a reason not to talk to the dickhead to your left. Your eyes were too buried in your soup to see the other two wives staring at you and your father who was boring holes into your head with his eyes.
âHow was your day, Y/N?â Tanya perked up
âSame as yoursâ you replied with a mouth full of carrot and potato
Silence
âWhere are you going tomorrow Negan?â Nicolle added.
âLadies.â Your father spoke out, his tone showing his distinct lack of patience. âIâm not an idiot. I can tell that our darling daughter doesnât want to share our company.â
âI made that obvious in my room.â Your spoon fell gracelessly into your bowl. âWhy am I here?!âÂ
He reached over and rubbed your cheek affectionately. âBecause I love you. And!â he punctuated the final word by raising a finger in front of your face, a silent cue to wait. He stood up from his chair and took off out of the room and down the hall. You took this moment to talk to his wives.
âYou donât have to be nice to me,â you said before starting to shovel soup into your mouth.
âLike hell, we don't.â Frankie retorted, earning a short child from one of the others. You chuckled and swallowed the food in your mouth. You picked up your glass and gestured it at Frankie
âTake notes, Ladies. Frankie doesnât try bullshit on meâ Frankie gestured her glass back. You guessed sheâd been in a similar situation, forced to get along with people because it was easier. She didnât try to be your friend because you knew you wouldnât appreciate it, which in a weird turn of events you appreciated.
Your father arrived back. It was now you noticed he was a lot cleaner than usual, even the signature leather jacket had left him. Now you were alarmed. In his hands was a pink box with a purple bow. He placed it in front of you and kissed the top of your head. âHappy Birthday, Y/N.â
âIs it my birthday?â you asked, not quite sure. Time had become a blur since the end of the world. You pushed your bowl away to bring the box in front of you.
âGive or take a few months. I know Iâve missed a couple what with...everything...so this will count for at least one of them.â He placed a hand on your shoulder giving it a little squeeze, your own hand finding its way on top âThereâs a lot more gifts coming for my princess, don't you worry.â You couldnât help the smile that came to you, giggling slightly. You looked up at him, seeing nothing but unconditional love being sent back your wayÂ
âDad, itâs alright.â You smiled and turned back to your gift. The wives were now watching, captivated by this little bit of humanity at the end of it all. You gingerly opened the bow and lifted the lid off.
Inside lay a military knife, clearly hand-made on-site with a beautiful leather handle and your name carved into the side in cursive. You released a breath you didnât realize you had been holding. You picked it up, finding it fits in your hand perfectly.Â
âItâs beautifulâ you near-whispered, watching as the candle lights hit against the metal. In a moment it was lodged in the table a mere inch from Tanyaâs hand. You kicked back your chair, making your father step back, and grabbed the vodka bottle in one motion. âNow if only I had a reason to fucking use itâ you spat as you stormed out of the room.
Back in your room, you sat in the corner with your head against the cold-glass window, looking down at the dead, only illuminated by the moon. You had killed so many of them before arriving at Sanctuary. Hell, youâd say you saved your old manâs ass more than he saved you...but he was a peopleâs person. Ruthless. But a peopleâs person. âLet me do my thing and Iâll have these assholes sucking my dick in daysâ.
That was a different age. Back when your father was a teacher. Back when your mother was sick. Back when your father cheated on her with anything with a pulse and she took it out on you. Back when your motherâs treatment and your fatherâs lifestyle drained your college fund and you had to enlist. Back when sheâd attack you, both emotionally and physically, and you took it cause you knew she was in pain. Back when you had come home from a 16-month mission because her condition had worsened. Back when the world went to shit. Back when you had to put her down because your sleazeball of a father wasnât man enough to do it. You looked down at the dead and thought, if you reached your hands through the wires...you could be back with your mom.
Your door opened slowly, heavy footsteps coming your way. There was no need to look. Only one person would enter your room without knocking. âYou scared Tanya back there, Princess.â your father spoke in a low voice.Â
âShe can take itâ you croaked, a clear sign you had been crying. He kneeled down beside you. In the reflection of the window, you could see him holding out the knife.
âPlease take it.â You turned around, your back now pressed to the window.
âWhy?â
âYou need to be able to protect yourselfâ
âGive me a gun thenâ
âNo.â
âWhy? Scared Iâd leave.â You took a swig of your drink.Â
âI see youâre upset-â
âDo you?! Do you really?â you cut him short, stumbling to your feet using the window to push yourself up. âWhy am I upset? Because I eat food I donât deserve? Because you make people die for me? Because you have me trapped in a fucking tower like Repunzel or some shit!?â That earned a chuckle from him, which only served to piss you off. âI should be down there earning my bit just like everyone else.â
âDo we have to go over this again?â He sighed dramatically. He cupped your face, the knife now dangerously close to you. âYou're my daughter Y/N. My darling baby girl. My precious princessâ
âI was twenty-six when this shit hit, dadâ you mumbled through your squished cheeks. He gave them a little loving slap.
âYou're valuable to me, which means some people might want to hurt you. You eat to stay alive, people die because theyâre stupid, and you live in this room on this floor so you can be kept safe.â you blew him off with a wave of your hand and an angry sigh. You pushed passed him to your bed, twirling to sit on it and start taking off your combat boots. He walked over and lodged the knife in your headboard before kneeling down to look up at you. âI have to go out for a while. Find this Rick Grimes asshole and get some payback for the fifteen men he killed at our outpost.â
A chill went up your spine âThe one near the hilltop settlementâ you whispered.Â
âThatâs right.â You looked him in the eye, not noticing how your lip quivered.
âYou donât have too.â you didnât know if it was the booze or genuine worry for human life but you found yourself begging. âWe have more than enough peo-â he shushed you soothingly, his hand coming up to your cheek, rubbing soothing circles.Â
âOh but you know I have too, and while Iâm gone I donât want anyone to get ideas on what they can do to you soâ he nodded towards the knife. You pulled it out of the wall, looking it over before nodding, mouthing âokayâ and depositing it in your nightstand table. He kissed your forehead before leaving, wishing you a good night. Once again alone you took two large gulps of your drink and laid down.
Edit: For creative reasons Y/N is now 26 at the beginning of the apocalypse instead of the original 24
