Trespassing (Daryl Dixon x OC)

Marionette

"Oh, I'll cut you down, for I know that you are weak."

Negan and his men were finishing up their meeting at Alexandria, the Saviors throwing the last of our things they took in their vans. I stood around with Rick, feeling the need to be present, especially after that last visit. As the Saviors gave Negan the okay, he turned to address Rick.

"Well, Prick, seems like we're done here and we'll just be on our merry fucking way." Negan paused, walking over to me with that shit-eating grin. I just glared up at him. "But I wanna take you, doll."

"What?"

"I'll bring you back, of course, but I wanna take you with me, doll," he repeated.

"Can you give us a moment?" Rick said, not even allowing Negan the option to say no.

"Make it fucking quick, we're burnin' daylight."

"Belle, you can't," Rick urged as he pulled me aside.

"Rick, I have to. I won't do anything stupid, I promise, but for right now, it's better to just give him what he wants rather than fight with him."

Rick was clearly against my decision. I honestly didn't want to upset Negan anymore than we already have. If this is what I have to do, then so be it.

"He'll bring me back," I pressed.

"It makes us look weak."

"No, it makes me look weak. I'll be fine, alright, but I have to do this." Rick sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed.

Driving with Negan was strange. He kept trying to make conversation but it just came out...asshole-ish. His sarcasm was hurtful and his snarky remarks were ridiculous. I just had to get this over with so I could go home. I had no clue what Negan wanted from me.

"Welcome to the Sanctuary, doll," Negan said as we pulled up to a large factory.

I hate to admit it, but I was in awe. It was just like any other community--people out working and tending to their own tasks--but the sheer size for one man to control...it was a bit frightening.

As we pulled up, the Saviors began unloading the trucks full of our belongings while Negan led me inside. We shared minimal words as he brought me up a few flights of stairs to a room. He entered it with such swagger. He really was so full of himself.

The room was nice, however. There was a dark wood desk with some papers strewn about, a couch on the opposite side of the room. In the corner was a small table. Many of the walls contained tall bookcases that were filled. I couldn't imagine that they were all Negan's.

"I have some records if you're interested," he spoke, his booming voice startling me for a moment. I glanced at the small crate in the corner before pursuing his offer.

It was filled with many classic rock albums. I was rather surprised, honestly. Negan didn't seem like the type of person to like this kind of stuff. He didn't seem like he enjoyed much of anything, really.

"Where did you find these?" I asked, my voice a bit timid.

"Out and about on runs or taking from other communities," he replied, sitting on the edge of his desk. "You can play one if you like."

I continued flipping through the old vinyl records. Eventually, I just began naming them off.

"Hunky Dory, Abbey Road, A Night At The Opera, Honk, Changes, Rubber Soul. I didn't know you liked all this," I spoke. I can't believe I have something in common with the man who murdered my friends.