#the walking dead reader insert

[grudgecollector]

protective daryl is such a Must like

imagine someone’s just threatened you and he stands in front of you with one of his arms back so he can hold your hand. “you don’t talk to her” he’d growl.

after somehow sending them away he’d turn back to you and hold your face and just “you okay?” and a “i’m never gonna let anything happen to ya”

Ol' Coyote | Daryl Dixon x Reader

Tags: Swearing, smoking, protective Daryl, season 2 Daryl, light angst, mentions of past domestic violence

Words: 2.5k

A/N: I'm FERAL over protective Daryl YES GAHD

Something you'll never get from me is a non-southern reader in TWD fics.

I may have made things a little ooc with Shane, possibly just a tad more aggressive than he actually is with people confronting him. But it's for the plot of the fic.

Also I'm not sure if I really like how this turned out, but I think I've just been staring at the words too long. I hope you enjoy it either way <3

Tension was running high on the farm. A nervousness had settled over you in the last few days as you watched Shane. His erratic behavior was becoming unnerving to observe from the outside. His freshly shaved head glistened with sweat as he shook it, watching Lori practically stomp away from him after a heated conversation. 

This was what you were best at. Watching. Every move that was made within your eyesight didn’t go unnoticed, every twitch, every heavy sigh that came from the man. You always had a knack for catching things just before shit hit the fan. That was the only thing you were thankful for when it came to your ex boyfriend. 

The things Brian said and did to you during those four years were permanently ingrained in your mind. Always reminding you to keep your guard up around men who would view you as weak, feeble minded, helpless and in need of saving. Men with the kind of charm that draws you in, making you think they can protect you from the dangers of the world, when in reality they are the biggest threat to you. 

The almost sadistic glint in Shane’s eye. The way he’d suck on his teeth and laugh humorlessly. The way he watched her… It was starting to scare you a little. It wasn’t a fear you held for yourself, but for Lori, a woman tangled in a web that was impossible to escape from. 

It wasn’t hard to admit that you did not feel safe around the man anymore. That feeling started to dissipate after he proposed the idea to give up on the search for Carol’s missing daughter. He was losing his grip. Even more-so after his botched run with Otis. 

“You good?” Daryl asked, nudging his elbow into your side. 

He had something hanging from his fingers, the necklace he had gifted you a week ago. He followed your gaze as he clasped the necklace for you, fingertips guiding along your hairline softly before settling on your shoulder. 

“Yeah…” You replied quietly, turning your head to look at the man beside you, “Is it just me or is he losin’ his damn mind?” 

“Oh it ain’t just you, sweetheart.” He nodded towards Dale who was sitting atop the RV, occasionally glancing over towards Shane. 

The angered man was pacing back and forth, roughly rubbing at his chin. Whatever conversation he and Lori had seemed to have stirred him up pretty bad, you could practically see the smoke rolling off his shoulders. 

“He needs to get his shit together.” You shook your head, crossing your arms, “The way he acts just... Ugh.” 

“You can keep on hoping, but I think he’s lost his marbles a long time ago.” Daryl huffed, hand dropping down to your waist as he brought you a little closer. 

Daryl and you walked back over to his area away from the rest of the camp, your shared tent occasionally rustling under the wind. The fire Daryl built an hour ago was starting to go down, tiny flames licking pathetically towards the sky, failing to build itself back up. 

The sun was starting to set, pink and orange hues blending together with the darkening blue sky. Daryl settled next to you on the grass, his knee brushing against your thigh. 

These were the moments you cherished the most. Calm and peaceful in a world filled with unimaginable horrors. A chance to take a deep breath and forget about your worries for just a short period of time. And you couldn’t ask for anyone better to spend it with. 

Over the last few months you had spent most of your time next to Daryl. At first he didn’t seem too fond of it, occasionally glancing your way with narrowed eyes and a suspicious attitude. Like he was waiting for you to strike, trying to stay a step ahead of your nonexistent plan to rob him blind. 

In reality you just appreciated the quiet. Away from the hustle and bustle that came with such a large group of people. You wanted to keep your distance, especially when it came to the children at the camp, trying your hardest to avoid the gut wrenching feeling that came whenever you looked at Carl. Oh how innocent and naive they were in such a heartless world. 

Eventually Daryl started to warm up to your presence. Allowing you to accompany him on hunts, teaching you the basics of tracking, and how to skin animals properly. It was easy to see through him, see past his rough edges and appreciate the moments where his kindness would shine through momentarily. 

The closeness between the two of you was something you cherished deeply. Knowing that wherever you went, he wouldn’t be far behind. 

It was moments like this that you could momentarily forget the ticking time bomb that slept just a few feet away from you. The very man in question is sitting next to Rick at the group’s shared camping area, laughing almost emotionlessly at something his best friend said. 

“You’re gonna burn a hole into his head if y’keep starin’ like that.” Daryl muttered, smiling a little bit when you halfheartedly glared at him. 

“Shut up.” You grumbled, “I’m gonna head up to the house real quick, gotta use the bathroom.” 

You were quick to stand. Your fingers brushed gently through Daryl’s hair, prompting him to place a hand on the back of your calf. 

The field in front of the house was still muddy from the rain, your boots sinking in just a little with every step you made. The sound of the ground squishing beneath your feet was drowned out by laughter from the camp, Carl, Lori, and Rick huddled together in front of their own fire as they shared a can of corn. 

It made you happy to know that at least one family was able to stay together through all of this. While they may not be perfect, they were still trying to stay intact in such a hectic world, making things as normal as they could be for their child. 

“Sup lovebirds.” You greeted Glenn and Maggie as you walked up the steps to the house. Glenn rolled his eyes and gave you a tight lipped smile. He hadn’t exactly sealed the deal with Maggie just yet, the both of them tiptoeing around each other cautiously. 

“Evenin’.” Maggie smiled, nodding towards you, “Where you headed?” 

“Is it alright if I use y’alls bathroom? I promise I won’t be long.” 

Maggie tilted her head a little, “You always ask and the answers always gonna be the same.” 

You couldn't help but smile a little, “Yeah well, believe it or not my parents did teach me manners. I usually don’t like invadin’ other people’s spaces without askin’ first.” You shrugged, going to grab for the handle of the screen door. “Thanks Maggie.” 

The hinges groaned loudly as you opened it. The Greene’s home was so beautiful, a warm yellow light casting over the neatly kept rooms, picture frames of the occupying family decorated the walls. It was that sense of normalcy you had needed ever since everything started. Something reminding you that not everything had to be so terrible all the time. It made it easy to forget the reality of things. 

You walked into the bathroom and gently shut the door behind you, not bothering to glance at your reflection in the mirror. Scared of what would be staring back at you. 

By the time you opened the door again, you could hear Beth and Patricia talking in the living room. Maggie was sitting next to her sister on the couch now, Glenn must have gone back over to your group for dinner. You figured you should probably do the same thing, cook up those squirrels Daryl and you caught earlier in the morning. 

You walked back outside and unzipped the pocket to your cargo pants, a lucky find at an army supply store. The top of the crumpled red and white box flips open easily, and you pluck a half smoked cigarette out along with your lighter and begin making your trek back towards your camp. 

“Hey.” A voice stops you, Shane standing from one of the rocking chairs on the porch. 

Great…

You brought the orange filter to your lips and flicked open the zippo lighter you stole from Daryl. You didn’t bother to look at the man walking towards you for more than a second, exhaling the smoke from the corner of your mouth as he got closer. 

“Can I help you with somethin’ Shane?” You asked, annoyance present in your tone.

“I don’t know, can you? Cause you seem to be starin’ an awful lot recently.” His broad shoulders rolled back a little as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“You feelin’ a little paranoid there? Intimidated by someone doing a little people watching?” 

“Don’t patronize me.” He shook his head, stepping closer towards you. 

An anxious feeling started to eat away at your stomach. You never liked when men started to close in on your personal space, even less when it was someone like Shane. The unpredictable and dangerous types. 

“I’d barely call it patronizing.” You shot back with a small shrug.. 

“You got a problem with me or somethin’? With how I’ve been handlin’ things?” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “I mean I got my fair share of issues with a lot of things, man.” He was starting to prick against your nerves, “Like you wanting to call off the search for Sophia? That was pretty fucked up.” 

“Not this shit again.” He shook his head, hands going to rest on his hips, “It’s bad enough I got to hear it from everyone else in the camp. Now I gotta hear it from the girl who’s too good to even grace us with her presence.” 

“Oh boo fucking hoo. Why is that such a big deal to you? Can’t someone just enjoy some alone time?” You scoffed, flicking off the flimsy ashes from your cigarette.

“Ain’t no such thing as alone time anymore. You gotta start contributing more to the group.” 

“Or what? You gonna boot my ass to the curb and call it a day? Seems like the kinda route you’ve been lovin’ lately.” You almost spat, an accusatory tone to your voice, “I’ve contributed plenty of my time to the group, helping Daryl with hunts and runs, making sure your bellies are full. I help wash clothes in the morning, I do daily perimeter checks with Glenn. Ain’t that enough for you?” You stepped a little closer this time, lowering your voice to harshly say, “Cause if you’re implying anything more, I ain’t doing personal tent calls like some street whore.” 

“You better watch your mouth.” His eyes were starting to get that wild look again, twitching a little when you smiled bitterly at him. 

“Did you hit your head or somethin’ when you went on that run with Otis? Is that what’s got you so fucked up? Some traumatic brain injury or some shit?” 

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, little girl? Cause I know it ain’t me.” He sized you up, chest puffed out as he got closer, but you stayed firmly planted, not allowing him to intimidate you. 

Not this time.  

“You’re fuckin’ losing it Shane, sure there ain’t many in the group that pick up on it but I sure do.” You shook your head, “All I’m sayin’ is you need to take a step back before you get someone else killed.” 

Clearly your wording made something snap within Shane. That littlest bit of self control he had disappeared, and suddenly his hands were clutching onto your biceps, blunt fingernails digging through the fabric of your shirt. 

“I ain’t getting anyone killed,” He growled out, “I keep this place safe, me. Not you, not Rick, or Daryl, Dale, none of you. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, girl, you’re barely smarter than a bag of fucking rocks. All talk and no bite.” His words punched into your harshly, he was practically snarling in your face as he got closer and closer. Your eyes were wide, fear striking through your heart as you stared at him. “Got any other smartass remarks, huh?” 

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of me, man!” You thrashed in his hold, quick to bring your still lit cigarette up and pressing it against his forearm. 

He flinched away, letting you go, and for a split second you almost thought he was about to rear back and slap you. He had that same exact look in his eyes your ex would get. 

Dangerous and unpredictable.

“Hey!” You heard an angered voice growl from behind you. 

Suddenly you felt hands on you again, making you flinch. But the hold was gentle, guiding you as Daryl stepped in front of you, his shoulders heaved with each heavy breath, clearly having run over to you as quickly as he possibly could. 

“The hell you think you’re doin’, huh?! Puttin’ your hands on her like that!” He was seething, but his hand was gentle as it held onto yours, squeezing softly as a way to reassure you. “You don’t fuckin’ talk to her, y’hear me?” He growled out threateningly, his hand resting on the knife secured to his belt, ready to strike at any second. “Don’t let me catch you near her again, asshole, or it’ll be hell to pay. I promise you that.” He glared at Shane, quickly turning around and guiding you past the group’s camp. 

“What the hell is going on? What’s with all the shouting?” Rick asked, catching up to the two of you. 

“Y’better get your fuckin’ boy, Rick. Ask him to explain the situation t’you.” Daryl spat, not giving him time to reply. 

You sat back down in front of the fire, staring at the yellow flames blankly. Never did you think Shane would put his hands on you like that, but the way he had talked to you, looked at you. It was too familiar, as if you were standing in front of the direct reincarnation of a man you fought so hard to forget. 

Daryl’s hands gently held your trembling ones. His index finger and thumb came up to your chin and pushed your head up so he could look into your dewy eyes. His fingers caressed your cheek, he knew that look on your face all too well, having seen it in the mirror plenty of times. 

“He ever tries anything like that again, he’s a dead man.” He stated firmly.

“I thought he was gonna hit me.” You said weakly, you hated how pathetic your voice sounded.

“I ain’t ever gonna let anything happen t’you. Not while I’m still breathing.” 

The promise would be a difficult one to fulfill, you both knew that. But the words still held weight, settling deep within your heart. You would be safe with him, you knew that.

[zeewritez]

I'm getting into the walking dead again and am working on a new fic. Should it be Daryl x Reader or Daryl x OC?

It's gonna be set around season 5 and start when Daryl gets separated from Beth. The character was in the army before the apocalypse and lives with a group of other women until they're attacked one night which sets off the events for the story.

Typical little revenge story, sorta enemies to lovers?

[witchthewriter]

𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: okay so I'm making this post because I found ... this audio on youtube (it's sfw dw) and it really made me want to write about the reader as this badass bitch who Negan absolutely adores. Otherwise, I find it really difficult to write for Negan in this timeframe. But the audio made me ... goddamn fall in love.

Warnings: at the end there's blood, and a knife - not used in violence though.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    

ENTP

Slytherin

Evil Neutral > Chaotic Neutral

4 of Wands Reversed

Gemini Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Scorpio Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・He had found you in one of the only secluded places there were at the Sanctuary

・Then this voice came out of nowhere, a voice you know well, one you had ... fantasised about for a while

・But outwardly, you pretended that you were doing this just to get by

・However, you had learned a lot from the people around you, from Negan, but mostly from Michonne when you were with her group

・It was long history. But eventually, your ideas didn't align with Rick's. And to the dismay of Michonne and yourself, you decided to leave.

・It hurt. You had friends in Rick's group, you truly did. But they followed him blindly. Just how Negan's group followed him blindly.

・But all your family had died, there was no one left you had to look out for. To love. Rick didn't even leave his kids in your presence alone. Just because of your ideologies - that maybe there is no right or wrong anymore.

・And then Negan killed Glenn, and Abraham and so many others and you felt so lost.

・But somehow, anyway, you ended up at the gates of the Sanctuary.

・It had been a month in and you were finding difficulties left and right.

・No one accepted you, no one wanted to trust one of Rick's group. They thought you were sent here to spy on Negan. But you did everything to prove yourself.

・And as time went on, you saw Negan's bravado.

・And ... you liked it. Even when it came down when two were together, you still liked his charm. The way he thought. But you could also see the hurt from his past. And how that influenced how he acted today.

・The words he spoke made you tingle, they made you blush (although you concealed it so well that Negan couldn't see it.)

・And when he was pouring his heart out to you, you tried to keep a straight face. Not let him see how you truly felt. Because if you did, then you would have nearly body slammed him to the floor and kissed him until you both couldn't breathe.

・Knowing that the leader of the Sanctuary, THE Negan, wanted you and only you - made you feel ontop of the world.

・And then he did something that you didn't expect.

・He made everyone assemble inside.

・And announced that you were his and only his and then he was only yours.

・That even though the war between Rick and them was still happening, Negan wanted someone solely to himself.

・In other words, Negan's personal life was just as important as the war ...

・When he made all his subjects kneel, and kissed you on the lips, you felt a rush of ... power. Of ... royalty, authority, control.

・It made you buzz.

・When it was just the two of you again, and Negan brought up the wedding, you nearly died.

・Had this been a joke? You thought so, but when you brought up your hesitancies, Negan looked at you with pure shock.

"Hell baby, I know you don't want to hear it, but these past few weeks, I've been giving you test after test."

"What? No you haven't, I would have notice-"

"That was the point, they weren't supposed to be noticeable baby."

"Negan, I - I honestly don't understand."

"Baby, you passed every single one of them. And I know you are the one for me. The only, one for me."

・Even before the apocolypse you never thought you would get married. You never thought someone would want you in that way.

・But apparently your strengths, the things that others saw as weaknesses - was what Negan loved.

"Okay, to make it even though, Mr Smith," you looked up at him with mischief in your eyes. The type of mischief that could breed chaos.

"Hmmm?" Negan said with a raised eyebrow, mirroring your smile.

"I want you to undergo a test." Your voice was light, airy, innocent.

"Anything for you, sugar," he nearly growled.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾🔞𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒅𝒏𝒊!

"Knife." You demanded and he pulled the one from his boot. The one he had his closest confidant clean and sharpen every morning.

・He passed it over to you without hesitation.

"Hand," you flipped yours out and he put it over your own.

"Repeat after me," all your words contradicted your eager face. Firm and strong, it excited Negan. But he kept that in.

・You looked at the shiny blade for a moment and admired it. Not too big, not too short, the perfect size for this.

"With my blood, I devote to you my love," you said, and waited a moment for Negan to do the same.

・He readied his throat and looked you straight in the eyes. His were glistening, and yours, gleaming.

His voice was deep, low, "with my blood, I devote to you my love."

・Without taking his eyes from you, you sliced the blade over his palm and did the same to yours.

・It stung, and blood wept from the wound. Faster than you had inticipated.

"And as we merge our blood together, we are now forever bound."

・You saw a hint of his eyes bulging, but only for a second.

・This was it. The final test to see if his words wrung true.

But his gaze flicked back to yours and nodded, "and as we merge our blood together, we are now forever bound."

・You clasped your hands together and let the blood mix.

"Blood of my blood," you whispered. Kissing the back of his hand.

・Where once held a smile, now had a stoic face. Knowing that now you truly were his one and only wife.

・Negan's eyes met yours.

"Bloof of my blood," he growled and leaned over the table to kiss you.

・Your hands stayed linked like that for nearly thirty minutes. Neither wanting to break free.

・An hour after you both decided you could let go. Negan went and sat in his chair, slapping the chair beside you.

With a beer in hand, he said, "I can't believe my wife's got me doing witchy shit," and he gave a chuckle.

"Husband," you said while grabbing the knife and walking over to the seat beside him, this isn't just "witchy shit, it's witchcraft." And then you licked the blood from the knife.

[thefreakydeaky]

After the Thrill is Gone

Part Ten

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Negan Smith x Reader

Modern AU

Summary: From the first moment you laid eyes on Negan you were inexplicabley drawn to him. The passion between you is hot and only grows more intense the longer you see each other. There is only one problem, you're both married to other people.

Warnings: Dark Fic ,Physical acts of agression, Stalking, Stalker behavior, Smuttyness, Adult Language...

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you read the results again and again. Not only had you betrayed your husband, but now you realized you were making him raise a child that wasn't his. You sat down and closed your eyes. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. What kind of sick joke was it to make Negan the father of your child?

He kneeled down beside the stroller and kissed your sleeping baby on the forehead. You wanted to protest, to tell him to get away from her, but now you had no right to.

He looked at her peaceful little face and you saw triumph in his eyes.Your heart, broken in two could not stand the sight. You stood up and grabbed your purse. As you got behind the stroller, Negan stood in front of it, blocking your exit.

"Where do you think you're going?"

You sniffed as your tears slowed.

"Home." You said simply.

"You are not going anywhere with my daughter. Not until I say so." Negan's tone was threatening.

"Please, don't do this. Just let me go." You tried to keep your voice from shaking.

"This isn't just about you anymore." He moved aside and took hold of your arms. "We need to talk about this."

"No! I'm done talking to you. All you do is bring bad into my life-"

He gave you a rough shake.

"Enough." He chastized. "Let's go."

One hand on your shoulder, he followed you out of the clinic.

"This way." He said gesturing to the left.

You went to the end of the row and recognized his truck. He pressed on your shoulder when you tried to stop in front of the vehicle. You went to the passenger side.

He opened the door for you and told you to get in. Trembling, you got into the seat. He opened the clasp at her waist and gently manuevered the baby out of her stroller.

"Put on the seatbelt." He told you.

Afraid and overwhelmed, you did as you were told. He put Millie into your arms and shut the door. You watched him breakdown the stroller and put it in the back of the truck. Then he got in.

At the coffee shop, you were reluctant to hand him your baby as he stood waiting expectantly with the stroller.

"The sooner we figure things out, the sooner we can leave."

You let him take Millie from you. She opened her bleary eyes, looked up at Negan and smiled.

He kissed her chubby cheek and put her back into her stroller. It was like being in a dream. So surreal. You found a table in the back corner and sat as Negan ordered a drink at the counter.

You stared at Millie as if you were seeing her for the first time. You looked at each feature of her face in turn. Her eyes, her nose, her lips, her chin. You now realized that the features you had recognized in her had always been yours and not Daryl's. Now, as you thought about it you realized the dimples that showed when she smiled, she had gotten from Negan. The shape of her nose, Negan. Her beautiful eyebrows, Negan. How had you not seen it before? How could you have been so oblivious?

You startled as Negan set a cup down in front of you.

"Lavender Chamomile tea, with honey and cream." He sat in the chair opposite yours.

"I'm a father. I can barely wrap my head around it." He looked at your napping baby with wonder in his eyes.

"I want to get to know her. I want to be in her life."

You took a shakey breath.

"I get that for you this is a good thing, but you have to understand, my whole life is ending. My marriage will end. Everything is going to change."

Negan's eyebrow raised.

"The decisions you made are what brought you here. You expect me to feel bad?"

Your eyes brimmed with water.

"Daryl will hate me. He will leave me. I-I can't raise three kids on my own. I can't."

"You're gonna have to tell him. Keeping the affair from him is one thing, but this? This he'll never forgive you for."

"Exactly. He will never forgive me. And my boys. I can only imagine what my boys will think of me. So, please, please just don't tell anyone yet. Please?"

"Are you asking me not to tell my wife or... your husband?" He prodded.

You felt the tears begin to flow. To your surprise, Negan reached over and placed his large hand over your smaller one.

"Alright. Alright." He said quietly. "Don't do this to yourself. I won't ruin the life you've built. On one condition."

You looked at him.

"From now on you do exactly what I say."

Your eyes widened in horror.

"N-no! I-I can't!"

"Listen, it's not just your life that will change. Your sons' lives will change."

"Please don't ask this of me! Negan, I -"

"Kids don't do well with divorce. Kids need stability. Are you sure you want to put them through that?" His expression was serious, his tone laced with feigned concern.

You shook your head.

"I-I don't. I don't want that."

"Good. Then you'll do what I tell you to."

"But-"

"From now on," He interrupted, "If I need to talk to you, you will answer the God Damn phone. If I want to see Camilla, you will make the time to meet with me. What I say, goes. Do you understand?"

You swallowed the sob trying to escape your throat and nodded.

He squeezed your hand.

"You can have it all," He said your name with tenderness in his tone. "You have been the only thing standing in your way. Now that I've fixed that, you should thank me for it."

You gazed into his hazel eyes, their warm depths so familiar to you. You were filled with dread at the realization that he had you right where he wanted you.

You stared at him.

His grip on your hand tightened to the point of being painful.

"Go on. Do it."

The sharp pain in your knuckles urged you to speak.

"Thank you." You mumbled.

"What was that?" A smile sat smugly on his lips.

"Thank you." You said through gritted teeth.

"Atta girl." He commended you and released his grip on your hand.

"Well if it isn't, Misses Dixon. Hey there!"

You turned to see Lori, the wife of one of Daryl's friends.

"Hey!" You stood up and went to give her a hug. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, Good good. I was really craving one of those apple cinnamon latte's and decided to drop by on my break. How are you?"

"I'm doing alright." You told her, smiling politely.

You noticed her eyes stray to Negan.

"How rude of me," You laughed lightly. "This is Negan Smith, he is one of Wyatt's teachers and is trying to convince me to let Wyatt be on the baseball team." The lie came so easily.

He stood and held out his hand to Lori.

"What can I say, the kid has a great arm and I am a fan of winning." He said following your lead as he shook her hand.

She nodded and smiled.

"We haven't seen you all in a while. We should get together. What do you think of a cook out? Maybe, Next weekend?" She asked.

"Yeah, yeah. That sounds like a good time. Let's do it."

She beamed at you.

"Alright, well, I gotta get back to it. You'll call me later to make plans?"

"Sure." You smiled back at her.

She told Negan it was nice meeting him and went on her way.Your smile faded once she was out the door.

"I know you feel confident that we won't get caught, but I don't. Everytime we meet I'm risking breaking apart my family and destroying my marriage. This is a prime example of-"

"I get it. We'll go somewhere less public next time."

You blinked dumbly for a second as what he was saying hit you.

You had no choice. Now he could have access to you whenever he wanted. You looked at Millie. As far as she had known for all her little life, Daryl was her Daddy. Daryl would surely want nothing to do with her if he found out. She wouldn't understand why she couldn't see or be with her father anymore. And Negan would only give her the time he could get away with giving her. Lucille would always be his main concern. Your child would not be a priority to him. For Daryl all of your children were his first priority. You couldn't take that away from her. She deserved to be treasured. While things between you and Daryl were not the best, when it came to your family life with your kids he was happy. Yes, it was a fucked up situation, but it did not benefit Millie or Daryl for you to tell the truth.

[kimjun]

girls are like “I want a boyfriend” but reject everyone because none of them are their comfort characters

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

Series masterlist

A Season 1! Daryl Dixon x wife!reader series

↝warning: angst, typical TWD stuff and lore, season 1, death, crying, blood, zombies, marriage

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 (tba)

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I do NOT give permission!]

[dreamtofus]

I just want to thank anyone and everyone who writes fanfic

like wdym this masterpiece is FREE

ps reblog ur fav fics.

[pretty-circa006]

Pie

Negan x F! Reader

summary Negan fucks you when you try to bake a pie tags slight breeding kink, unprotected p in v, vaginal fingering, pet names, pussy eating, not proofread

wc 1.4k

note just finished a little wip i had sitting around. got the idea when i was listening to stargirl interlude, so maybe you wanna listen to that while reading

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

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Negan was a great cook. It wasn't a well known fact considering he was a rather busy man with leading the Saviors and all. Occasionally, he'd make dinner for his wives and those were always her favorite days. And since last night was one of those nights, she wanted to do something to return the favor. 

So here she was in the kitchen, flour dusted her classy black dress and her fingers were sticky with pie filling as she worked on rolling out the dough for the pie's crust. This pie was going to be her way of thanking Negan for being such a good husband—at least to her. 

"What's all this?" she heard him ask from the entryway. 

"I'm baking you a 'thank you' pie," she replied as she lined the pie pan with the crust. 

"Thank you pie? The hell’s a 'thank you' pie?" 

"I dunno, just my way of showing you that I lo- appreciate you." She poured some of the apple filling into the crust, hoping he didn't catch her almost mistake.

"Well aren't you a sweetheart," he said wrapping his arms around her. His salt and pepper beard tickled her neck as he pressed kisses to it, ignoring her lighthearted pleas for him to stop distracting her. As she cut the leftover dough into strips, Negan reached over and scooped some pie filling from the bowl before sucking it off his finger. 

"Mmm! This is fuckin' delicious, baby," he rasped into her ear. Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. "Glad you like it." The kisses he was leaving on her neck grew more sensual –open mouthed with nips here and there– as she did her best to lay the lattice pattern with the dough atop the pie. His hands drifted from her hips down to her upper thighs where his hands slid beneath her dress, slowly lifting it until it was bunched up at her hips. She did her best to pretend like she wasn't distracted and continue to lay the pattern on top of the pie, but really, his touches were arousing her. 

"What're you doin'?" she asked him once his fingers looped around the waistband of her panties. He was too busy kissing down her shoulder to answer, but she had the feeling he wouldn't have answered anyway. In one fell swoop he yanked her panties down before his hand wedged its way between her legs. She let out a whimper, but otherwise continued with the pie. He began rubbing tight circles over her clit as he licked and sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her breathing grew shallow as her resolve began to fade. Restrained whimpers escaped her lips, but that wasn't good enough for him. 

"I wanna hear you, doll," he ordered. Her answer came out in the form of a breathy moan once he slipped a thick finger into her soaking pussy. Her hands gripped the counter as his finger glided in and out the spongy walls of her cunt. He inserted another and the gentle stretch felt so good. His thumb rubbed quick circles on her clit as he fingered her. Her thighs squeezed his hand as her hips ground onto his hand. With his foot, he nudged her legs further apart before increasing his pace. 

“Negan, please, I’m close,” she wantonly whined between pants. He pulled away from her neck with an audible pop, leaving what she was sure would be a sizable mark. He removes his fingers from her cunt which earned a displeased pout from her. She was about to object, but was cut off when he turned her to face him. Beneath his gaze, her entire body felt like it was on fire, especially between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her lips for a kiss. His hands slid up her body, beneath her dress, feeling her body wherever his hands could reach. His tongue slid between her smooth lips and she tangled her fingers in his hair as sigs and moans crossed between their lips, merging into one sound in their kiss. He lifted her before setting her onto a free space on the countertop. In need of breath, he pulled away from the kiss. Instead of going back to her lips, he kissed down her jaw, to her neck, then her collarbones before unzipping the back of her dress and sliding the straps down her shoulders. He lowered himself to his knees, looking at her with a smirk on his face as he did so, and spread her thighs open. Her cunt was practically leaking, desperate to be filled by the man beneath her, and my god he thought it looked delicious. He kissed his way up her leg, starting from her ankle, until he got to her inner thighs, right in front of where she wanted him most. He nipped and sucked at the soft flesh until he had her whimpering. 

“Please, Negan, I need you!” She begged, desperate for some attention on her neglected cunt. Finally, his soft lips surround her clit, sucking it gently for a moment before he pulls away. His warm, wet tongue licked a stripe between her folds, tasting her arousal directly from the source. Her fingers weave through his greying hair, pulling him deeper into her pussy. She finally got what she wanted when his tongue entered her hole. She leaned back, supporting her weight on her arms from behind. She threw her head back in a pleasured haze as his tongue worked magic on her pussy. The warm muscle worked its way around her velvety walls and pressed against her g-spot as his lips were practically making out with her lower ones. Her cunt squeezed his tongue and nails scratched at the countertop as she reached her peak with a scream of his name. His beard was glistening with her juices when he pulled away, a wide dimpled smile plastered on his face.

“Doll, you’re so delicious I almost forgot about that goddamn pie.” She giggled, smiling at him as she slid off the countertop. She was about to wash her hands and resume fixing the pie, but Negan stopped her in her tracks. 

“Oh I’m not done with you,” he growled. 

“But what about the pie?” She asked feigning innocence, batting her eyelashes.  She didn’t really care about the pie and it was obvious by the way she was undoing his belt buckle. 

“Forget that goddamn pie and bend over, babydoll.” He eyed her bare, plump ass as he freed his hardened cock from his pants. He slid it up and down her slick folds before lining it up with her needy cunt. He slid in almost effortlessly, his large dick stretching her hole, but filling her up perfectly. 

“This pussy was made for me,” he moans. His large hands hold her hips as he thrusts roughly into her, desperately wanting to reach his own orgasm. The sound and smell of sex filled the kitchen as he plowed into her from behind. Her head hung low as she cried his name over and over, nothing else on her mind but the man filling her. Tears from overstimulation flowed down her face as pleasure overtook her. Negan’s cock twitched inside of her, his own orgasm rapidly approaching.

“God you feel so good, baby. Can’t wait to fill this pussy.” The next thing that fell from her mouth was just garbled gibberish and lewd moans, but he knew that meant she’s close. He leans down over her body and intertwines his hands with the backs of hers. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear and pressed gentle kisses to the side of her head as he shot his load into her abused cunt at the same time she reaches her second orgasm. 

“You did so good for me, angel. Such a good girl,” he cooed as he slowly softened inside of her. 

After he pulled out of her,  he helped her get redressed, but by then she was too spent to even care about the pie. 

thank you for reading! <3

[zmbiesoph]

CARL GRIMES X FEM!Y/N AESTHETIC

[kisses-for-you]

ice || luke twdg

pairing: luke x fem!reader

summary: Luke has to think quickly when the ice under your feet starts breaking — literally.

w/c: 3.0k

spoiler warning: this fic is very loosely based off of season 2, episode 5 (don't even know if it counts as a spoiler at this point tbh)

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Crack.

The ice beneath you cracked, leaving you standing on what felt like a ticking time bomb. Luke, Bonnie and Clem all turned in your direction, eyes widening, panic painting their expressions. You froze on the spot, unsure of what your next move was. “Y/N!” Luke called your name, already inching across the ice closer to you. Clem followed suit.

“Don’t-!” you exclaimed, “Don’t come any closer!”

Luke froze, caught between instinct and reason. “Just stay calm, alright? Don’t move,” he said, voice trembling ever so slightly.

Your legs wobbled, breath hitching in your throat as another soft crack echoed beneath your feet. The ice groaned like it was angry. “I know not to move, Luke,” you snapped, trying to keep the fear out of your voice, but your eyes flicked downward anyway. Bad idea. All you saw was a sheet of thinning ice and dark, swirling water underneath.

Bonnie grabbed Clem’s shoulder and pulled her back a bit. “We can’t all crowd her. The ice won’t hold,” she hissed, voice tight with fear.

Luke ignored her. “Y/N, look at me. Hey, hey, eyes up, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle now, like it was just the two of you again, curled up in an old cabin and not about to fall through a frozen lake. “I got you, alright? You’re not gonna fall. Just… reach out your hand, nice and slow.”

“Luke…” you whispered, voice cracking. “If I go under-”

“You’re not,” he said, still stepping forward despite your protests.

“Luke, no!” you shouted, warning him not to come any closer. You glanced at Bonnie and gave her a look, which she seemed to understand. She moved to hold Luke back, grabbing his arm. Bonnie gritted her teeth as she yanked Luke back. “Don’t be stupid, Luke! She told you not to move!” she barked.

Luke fought her grip, his eyes locked on you with desperation burning in them. “I have to get to her! I’m not just gonna stand here and watch her-”

“Luke,” you cut him off, your voice firm despite the terror boiling in your chest. “You can’t save me if we both fall in.”

And then, like a horror movie playing on fast-forward, groaning snarls erupted from behind. More walkers. Of course.

Clementine turned to look behind you. “They’re coming!”

You turned your head just slightly, enough to see silhouettes shambling onto the lake, their limbs stiff from the cold but still deadly. There were too many of them, and you were in the middle of the lake with ice thinner than tissue paper. Perfect. Your heart pounded harder. You knew what had to be done. “Bonnie,” you called. She turned to you, wide-eyed. “Buy me time. Shoot the walkers behind us. Now!”

Clem didn’t wait. She was already raising her gun, her small hands steady despite the situation. One shot cracked through the cold air, echoing across the lake as the first walker dropped. Bonnie followed suit, fumbling slightly but firing with shaky determination. Luke was yelling something, probably your name again, but you barely heard it. Because now the ice was seriously groaning, screaming, practically. And you knew you were running out of time.

You tried to shift your weight slowly, carefully moving one foot toward a thicker part of the ice, eyes flicking around for anything more solid. “Y/N, stop!” Luke’s voice came again.

“I’m not just gonna wait to die, Luke!” you shouted back.

He struggled against Bonnie again, managing to take another half-step closer.

“Luke, I swear to god,” your voice cracked again. “If you fall through, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I don’t care, Y/N!” he yelled. “I’m not losing you!”

A loud boom of a shot rang out, followed by a walker’s gurgling fall. “Three more!” Clem shouted.

You felt the ice shift beneath your foot. A web of cracks spread like lightning beneath you, and a chill that had nothing to do with the cold climbed up your spine. You had seconds. You looked at Luke for what could’ve possibly been the last time. “I love you,” you said, quiet but clear.

His face crumpled. “No, don’t say it like that. You’re gonna make it out of this.”

You gave him a half-smile, bitter and broken and laced with hope. “Then let me do this my way. Just keep them off me.”

Bonnie reloaded. Clem was already aiming at the next walker. Luke stood frozen, eyes wet, lips pressed tight, watching the person he loved on the verge of falling through a grave of ice and water.

And then the ice beneath you gave a snap like a bone breaking, and you dropped, straight into the freezing dark.

One second you were standing on a slippery miracle, the next you were in it, or rather under it. The lake swallowed you whole, dragging you down like it had been waiting all along. Ice water wrapped around your body like chains, shocking the air right out of your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t see. Everything was black and blue and blurry, like the whole world had shattered and you’d fallen straight through the pieces.

Your arms flailed upward instinctively, fighting the weight of your soaked clothes. The surface shimmered just above you, distorted and too far. You reached for it, fingers numb, chest burning. The water clawed at your skin, cutting into it like glass. The pain was instant. Unforgiving. Above, muffled voices and gunshots bled through the ice, barely audible. You heard someone scream your name. It was Luke, you knew it was Luke. And then suddenly, the blurry shimmer above you broke.

A hand plunged through the water like a lifeline sent by the universe.

Luke.

His fingers wrapped around your arm, and then both arms, and then you were yanked, violently, desperately, upward. The ice cracked further under the strain of your combined weight, but Luke didn’t let go. He refused to. His grip was iron. With a strong tug, he pulled you halfway out of the water, breath ragged. “Come on- come on, sweetheart,” he panted, locking eyes with you like he was trying to pull your soul back to the surface too. “Stay with me. Just a little more. I got you.”

Bonnie screamed something behind him. Clementine fired another shot. But none of that mattered. Not to Luke. Not right now. He hauled you out with a roar, slipping to his knees as you crashed onto the cracked ice beside him. You were coughing violently, lips blue, soaked through and shaking uncontrollably. Your vision spun like the world had tilted sideways.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I got you, I got you,” Luke repeated over and over, his arms already wrapped around you, picking you up to continue towards the house.

Your teeth chattered so hard it hurt, but you clung to him like your life depended on it because, honestly, it did. You couldn’t feel your fingers. Your soaked clothes clung to you like icy cement, and your arm was burning from where the ice had sliced into it. Luke didn’t stop moving. “Just a little farther,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, baby, I promise.” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, but he kept going.

You tried to speak, to say you were fine, but your jaw wouldn’t cooperate. Your body felt like it was shutting down, piece by piece, and the pain in your arm was making everything fuzzy.

Bonnie ran ahead, kicking open the door of the unfinished house Arvo had led you to. Luke stumbled inside with you in his arms, lowering you onto the dusty floor. His hands were almost shaking worse than yours, hovering over you like he didn’t know what to do first. You were soaked to the bone, your breaths coming in shallow, wheezy gasps. His eyes flicked from your face to your arm to your chest, and then back to your face again. “Shit. Okay. Okay. We need to warm you up. Now.”

Jane spoke, “I got it.” She disappeared, searching the house for firewood or anything else that would work.

Luke held you in his arms, wrapping them around you to give you any sort of warmth for now, not caring about the fact that he, too, was now getting soaked.

“B-babe?” you asked, voice slurred.

Luke’s head snapped down to you, eyes wide and full of panic. “I’m here. I’m right here, baby,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours like he could will your body heat back just by being close. “You’re okay. I got you. I got you.”

Your eyes fluttered, barely staying open. “So…tired…” you mumbled, and Luke was just about able to make out the words.

“No, no, no, don’t do that, sweetheart, stay with me,” Luke whispered fast, panicked, his arms tightening around you. “You gotta stay awake, alright? Please.” His voice cracked again, more desperate now, like the thought of losing you was physically tearing him apart. “Don’t close your eyes, not yet.”

Kenny was pacing like a caged animal, his boots scraping the wooden floor with every stomp. He kept glancing at you, wrapped up in Luke’s arms, your lips still blue, your body shaking uncontrollably. The silence in the room, save for your gasps and Luke whispering reassurances, was suffocating.

Then, Kenny looked at Arvo. “You son of a bitch. This is your fuckin’ fault!” Kenny accused, choosing to direct his anger at the Russian.

“Kenny. Don’t man,” Mike tried to step in and diffuse the situation.

“Don’t what?” fumed Kenny.

Mike responded, “It’s nobody’s damn fault.”

“The hell it ain’t!”

“He’s just a scared kid. This ain’t on him,” Mike defended Arvo, or rather attempted to do so.

Kenny glanced around the house. “Look at this place. Just a stack of fuckin’ toothpicks. Bet those magical ‘supplies’ are bullshit, too. What? No speaka de English?” Kenny lashed out, shoving Arvo.

You couldn’t do anything, and you could feel Luke tense up next to you at the argument unfolding before you.

Arvo was silent for a few beats, then he spoke, his brows lowering. “Fuck you.”

“You fuckin’ Commie piece of shit.” Kenny punched Arvo square in the face, causing him to drop to the floor.

“Kenny!” Mike called, trying to get him to stop, but to no avail. Those two words had been enough to push Kenny over the edge. Yet Kenny didn’t stop there.

He punched Arvo again, which led to Arvo repeating his earlier words, “Fuck you…”

Kenny paused, and then blow after blow rained down on Arvo. “You mother-” Hit. “Fucker!” Another hit. “Piece of-” Again. “Shit!”

“Stop it!” Mike yelled, trying to grab Kenny, but he shoved him off, eyes crazed with fury.

Your throat burned with every ragged gasp, your body trembling like a leaf in a storm. You could barely lift your head, but you could still hear it. Kenny's fists connecting with skin and bone, the sickening thud of each punch. The crack of knuckles. Arvo’s weak grunts of pain. Mike yelling. The whole room felt like it was spinning, and all you could think was make it stop.

Luke’s arms were still tight around you, his body heat barely cutting through the ice in your bones. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack. His whole body was stiff — not just from the cold, but from the fight breaking out right in front of him, one he wasn’t getting up to stop because you were still half-conscious in his lap.

Gathering what little energy you had left in your frozen, aching body, you forced out a yell that scraped your throat raw, burning from the effort. "Kenny! Stop!" you rasped, voice louder than you'd thought possible in your state. Everything halted. Kenny’s fist hung midair, his chest heaving, blood smeared across his knuckles. Everyone in the room turned toward you. Even Arvo, blood trickling from his busted lip, blinked in disbelief.

Luke pulled you tighter into his chest. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair. “Don’t push yourself.”

The moment Kenny’s eyes met yours — your blue lips trembling, Luke cradling you like a lifeline, your whole body shivering — his shoulders slumped. “You should be resting,” he muttered.

“I’ll rest when you stop beating the life outta a kid who’s just as scared as the rest of us,” you shot back, though your words slurred from exhaustion and the cold.

The fight drained out of Kenny in one breath. He stared for a beat, fists clenched tight at his sides. Then, finally, he turned away from Arvo with a grunt, wiping the blood from his knuckles. The room stayed tense, thick with the kind of air you could cut with a knife, but the immediate storm passed. Kenny stomped away, muttering under his breath, leaving Arvo coughing weakly on the floor, blood dotting the dusty wood. Mike crouched beside the kid, checking his face for anything too bad while Bonnie hovered awkwardly near the door like she wasn’t sure whether to check on you or stay out of it.

Jane returned then, kicking the door shut with her boot and dropping a bundle of wood on the floor. “Found enough for a fire,” she announced, voice clipped. Her eyes darted to you in Luke’s arms, and even she winced a little. “We need to move fast.”

“Yeah,” Luke breathed, his arms never leaving you. “Help me get her warmed up.”

Jane crouched by the half-busted fireplace, her hands moving quickly as she started stacking a pile of wood. Clem appeared beside her with some matches, jaw set and eyes fierce like always. Luke pressed his lips to your temple, his breath shaky. “Hang in there, baby. They’re getting the fire goin’, you hear me? You’re gonna be okay.” He said it like if he repeated it enough, it’d make it true.

You barely managed a nod, your face buried against his chest. Everything hurt. Every nerve felt raw and frozen, and your arm was still bleeding sluggishly where the ice had bit into it. But you weren’t dead, and right now, that was enough.

“Luke,” Jane called, her voice a little softer now. “Bring her closer.”

He scooped you up without hesitation, carrying you over to the flickering flames Jane and Clem were coaxing to life. “Luke… I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice rough and barely there.

Luke’s head snapped down. “What? What’re you apologisin’ for?”

Your teeth chattered so hard it made your whole skull vibrate, but you still forced the words out. “I didn’t listen… should’ve waited. Should’ve trusted you.”

Luke lowered himself beside the fire with you in his lap, the glow flickering against his face, warm but not nearly enough yet. He tucked you into his chest like he was trying to shield you from everything — the cold, the fear, the guilt, even yourself. “Don’t you dare apologise, Y/N,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “You were trying to survive. You did survive. That’s all that matters.”

“I almost didn’t.” You curled your fingers weakly into his shirt, clinging like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

“But you’re here,” he whispered, his breath catching, arms curling tighter around you. “You’re here with me, and I’m not lettin’ go. Not ever.” He paused, lost in thought for a few moments then spoke, “You scared the shit outta me.”

“Yeah?” you croaked with a ghost of a smirk. “You looked like you were gonna cry.”

He let out a weak, choked laugh, brushing your wet hair back from your forehead. “I still might. Don’t push your luck.”

The fire finally caught strong, casting flickering gold across the room. Clem knelt beside you, handing Luke a rag and motioning toward your arm. “You need to clean that. Fast.”

“Right,” he said, shifting you just slightly so he could get a better look. When he pulled back your sleeve, his stomach clenched at the sight. The ice had sliced deep, raw and angry against your skin. He pressed the cloth gently to it, and you hissed, fingers twitching.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” you breathed. “You’re better than Jane’s first aid.”

“Hey,” Jane said, without looking up from the fire, but her lips twitched. Clem cracked a small smile too, just barely. Even Bonnie let out the tiniest exhale that might’ve been a laugh, though her eyes were still on Arvo, cautious.

As Luke tended to your wound, the room slowly began to stabilise again, tense but not explosive. Kenny sat stiffly in the corner, arms crossed, clearly still stewing, but silent for now. Mike stayed by Arvo, offering quiet words you couldn’t make out. And the fire kept growing, warm enough that your fingers finally started to tingle with pain from the return of circulation.

You leaned your head against Luke’s shoulder, your breath starting to even out. “Luke…”

“Yeah?”

You reached up, fingers clumsy and shaking, and brushed your knuckles along his jaw. “You didn’t have to come after me. You could’ve fallen in too.”

“I had to,” he said instantly, like it wasn’t even a question. “I wasn’t about to stand there and let the person I love drown.”

You blinked at him slowly, your heart kicking weakly in your chest, and despite the pain, despite the cold, despite everything, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“You said it,” you whispered.

He frowned. “Said what?”

“You love me.”

Luke’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away, somewhat sheepish. “Well… yeah. ‘Course I do. Thought that was obvious by this point.”

You let out a soft, raspy laugh and closed your eyes for a second. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so damn much.”

[grudgecollector]

hii queen! i saw that your requests are open, could you write something with daryl and a reader in the earlier seasons who are dating in secret? (they dont want no one to know because daryl is new to relationships and i believe he would be more reserved a little in the beggining), however the group ended up noticing how soft he is to her and how he always keep an eye on her😩 and also i just wanted to say that i read some of yours writtings and they are amazing💕💕

Gimme Shelter | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Tags: Swearing, twd typical violence, kind of slow burn, fluff, lightish angst, half proof-read

Words: 4.4k

A/N: Fank you so much nonny 💖😭 I've been really enjoying writing for Daryl, he was one of my biggest obsessions as a teenager, and that obsession will continue to prevail.

And this is such a cute request, I love secret relationship tropes so much. I decided to do Prison era!Daryl if that's okay, I assume you probably meant for like season 1 or 2, but I felt like it would be cute in the prison.

I know that a slow burn wasn't requested BUT the thoughts just kept coming the more I wrote. Also sorry this took so long to post.

Growing up people would always say you will find the one when you least expect it. Whether it’s in a grocery store, at the park, in a museum. That one person you’re bound to spend the rest of your life with will be there. As if they were waiting for you, and you for them. It was a fairytale dream, one that you lost faith in long ago. 

There were moments you had thought that maybe you finally found that person. Until disappointment would strike time and time again. Your experience with relationships had been less than ideal, never lasting longer than a year. Cheaters, liars, and worst of all abusers. Those types of men had always been the most drawn to you. Making you feel as if you were cursed somehow, unlucky. 

After a while and a slew of pity attempts, you gave up on dating for your own benefit. Deciding it would be best to focus more on yourself. Not allowing yourself to succumb to the societal pressure of getting married by twenty and popping kids out by twenty one. 

That was the dream of a delusional small town teenager, too young to think for themselves let alone plan a future family, and that had been your dream once upon a time. Maybe you read too many stories about young girls finding their prince charming and living happily ever after.

You started to value your alone time. Enjoying the feeling of not having to walk on eggshells in order to keep the other party happy. Things were smooth sailing for about two years. You changed your life around, got a new job, a new car, and a new apartment all within a few months. 

A newfound happiness was settling inside of you, you were beginning to find yourself again. You became more confident in who you were as a person, allowing yourself to actually live your life instead of just simply being alive. 

But life had a twisted sense of humor. 

Things started with frantic breaking news segments on the news. Reporters talking about the horrifying developments coming out of France. In the beginning you had hoped that things wouldn’t escalate past that, hoped that this would be an isolated incident. But things just got worse the more you watched. An unknown virus wreaking havoc across the entirety of Europe, spreading like wildfire across each country. 

After the first case of the virus was reported in Ohio, you started to worry. Things were getting too close for your liking, and with the details they were releasing it wasn’t going to get any better. With each new segment that aired your mother would call, urgently telling you to come back to live with them until this sickness blows over. You knew that it would be your best bet. 

Once the local grocery stores started getting raided, you found yourself being thankful that your family was full of survivalist nuts. Growing up hearing them praise people like Jim Baker, and other televangelist hackjobs like him that weaponized fear mongering for profit. 

Your parents home was stocked full of all the essentials thanks to your aunt Jess. First aid kits, canned food, water to last just a little over a month. It was everything you needed and more. 

“Y’always gotta be prepared, honey.” Your wine-drunk aunt had told you after a week, the both of you lounging on the sofa as you watched the news. “You don’t know how long this crap’s gonna last.” 

It all went by so quickly. The news stations eventually stopped airing not long after the first report hit Georgia, they were urging everyone to evacuate to Atlanta, leaving the streets a mess of honking and dead-stop traffic right outside of your parent’s home. 

And for a short while you had settled into this false hope that you were safe there with them. 

That was until you came back from a short trip to a ransacked Dollar General just down the street. 

The house was oddly quiet when you walked inside. The TV was muted on a flickering static screen, your dad’s recliner was empty, a blanket on the floor. The backdoor that led to the porch was ajar, the sun shining through the crack onto the wood flooring. You remembered that feeling in your stomach as you walked closer, fingers slowly curling around the doorknob. 

When you walked outside it felt as if a bucket of ice water was dumped over your head. The horrifying sight of your mother’s body being gutted by your own father and uncle, fresh blood dripped down the side of the RV next to your aunt’s already mangled corpse. Your hands were trembling fiercely, a nauseating coppery smell filling your nose. 

All you could remember was running. Packing whatever you could get your hands on before taking your mother’s minivan.  

Not long after the death of your family, you were taken in by a small group of five. They were unstable, barely hanging on by a thread, with almost nightly arguments tilting them further over the edge. 

It made things harder for you. The tension starting to make you too nervous to sleep without a knife tucked securely under your pillow. 

The self appointed leader demanded too much, wanting more than half of the rations to himself. He was a cruel hearted individual, mind diluted by the atrocities you were all forced to witness. A dangerous man who was quick tempered, and ruthless to anything or anybody you came across. 

After a month of running with them you made a mistake. You hid a portion of your findings from him. Food that he would have taken the majority of. But you were starving, at the point of hardly caring about your survival if it meant you could eat just a little bit more.

Other members had found out though, outing you quickly. As a punishment he tied you up, stole everything from you. Photo albums, your weapons, your food, bandages, it didn’t matter what it was. After beating you he left you in the supply closet of a convenient store you were temporarily camping out in. 

Part of you half expected them to come back, but you knew better than to think positively now, that could get you killed nowadays. 

The minutes blended into hours into what felt like days. The zip ties around your wrists and ankles dug harshly into your skin, biting into the raw bleeding flesh as you struggled to free yourself. Eventually it got to the point where you started slipping in and out of consciousness, your body exhausted and dehydrated. You were sure you would die there. 

But, much to your surprise, your luck hadn’t run dry just yet. 

In your haze you could hear the sound of once shuffling corpses hit against the door with a heavy thud. Hushed voices barely graced your ears through the door, two men talking to each other. 

Your voice was hoarse as you pathetically attempted to call out. Your throat was dry from the lack of water, forcing your words to come out as a croaking squeak.  

The door had been opened cautiously, the beam of a flashlight assaulting your eyes. You attempted to focus on the man crouching down above you, his blurred features obscured by the baseball hat he wore. 

“Rick!” The man called over his shoulder, another figure coming into view. He was wearing what seemed to be a police officer’s uniform. Whether it was stolen or actually his, you didn’t care, you just wanted out of this damn closet. 

Both men were quick to cut your binds and hauled you to your feet. The quick motion was all it took for you to finally pass out. A thick blanket of exhaustion pressed into you, forcing your eyes to flutter closed and your body to go completely limp. Unable to cling onto consciousness any longer

In those last moments you almost thought that they would just leave you there. Not wanting to bother helping a now passed out stranger, and you wouldn’t have blamed them if they did abandon you. 

Instead when you woke up you were laying on a couch, an older man with short white hair standing over you. 

At first you had almost believed you dreamed it all, the outbreak, the group. That you were in some sort of comatose state and the world was not overrun by flesh eating monsters. But the stinging pain deep within your wrists proved otherwise, the gashes covered by white gauze and medical tape. 

The white haired man, Hershel, ran you through your current state. Malnourishment, dehydration, feverish temperatures. It was evidently clear that you had been through the wringer, and if Glenn and Rick had not found you when they did, you would have died within the day. In fact he had said it was a miracle that Hershel himself could have saved you. 

You figured you had always been stubborn, though, you never gave up easily. 

Hershel had been kind enough to allow you to stay in his house until you got better. Providing you with enough water and food to get you back on your feet. 

The family allowed you to use their shower. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you understood why they were so insistent. A thick layer of grime and blood coated your skin, your hair was matted, your clothes ripped beyond repair. 

You couldn’t help but cry, realizing just how quickly you lost yourself out there. Your humanity has faded so much in such a short amount of time, leaving you a hollow shell of your former self. You looked like a stranger to yourself.

Over the next week Rick’s group urged you to stay. They knew you had nowhere else to go, no family to run back to. 

You were hesitant, though. You didn’t want to continue to be a burden, you were a stranger infiltrating an already close knit group. The closeness they had made you feel even more lonely than you did in your previous group, because at least when it came to them, you didn’t crave that companionship. 

Gone were the days of blind trust, knowing that everything always came with a price these days. So your knife stayed tucked beneath your pillow, fingers clutching onto the handle as you kept an eye on the zipped up entrance of the tent. 

On many sleepless nights, which were frequent, you would sit yourself in front of the dwindling fire outside of your tent. Mind wandering to everything that’s happened to you in the past three months, the things you’ve done to stay alive, the permanent scars you would carry with you for life. 

You stewed in your bitterness. Chewing ruthlessly on the skin around your fingernails. 

Your tent was further away from the rest of the group’s, tucked away in your own area. You found yourself watching the rest of them at first. Thoughts of running away while everyone slept crossed your mind more times than you could count. 

Until one night you heard a twig snap behind you, your knife quickly unsheathed and pointing towards what you thought to be a threat, 

“Geez. You’re almost as bad as Daryl.” One of the older men from Rick’s group, Dale, chuckled as he walked closer to your secluded camp, his hands up in surrender. “But I can go if you want.” He smiled softly. 

“Sorry… Bad habit.” You said quietly, setting your knife back down next to your thigh. 

He shook his head, taking a seat in front of the fire, “No need to be sorry. I can’t blame you for still being a little paranoid.” 

Dale quickly became a source of comfort for you, sporting an almost fatherly personality when talking to you. He was kind, and realistic which was exactly what you needed after everything you’ve been through. Over the course of a few nightly visits he was able to get you to open up a little, telling him about your former group, he was sympathetic and understanding. 

“The world has truly gone to hell.” He grimaced, taking his bucket hat off of his head. “But, we have good people here. Believe it or not.” His smile was reassuring. 

After a few days you started to come around more. Helping the women with laundry, listening to the stories they told about their lives before, anecdotes to keep themselves sane. 

It wasn’t hard to understand why they were so close. The tragedy of their former camp just outside of Atlanta, the C.D.C, Lori’s son getting shot, the people they’ve lost along the way. 

Slowly you felt more like yourself again.

Every so often they would mention that same name Dale did, Daryl. The only member of the group you had yet to meet personally. 

You had seen him walking around the camp, or tucked away in his own tent, further away from the group much like yours was. He was gruff looking, intimidating to the eye, and his occasional temper didn’t help much. But with how insistent he was on finding Carol’s missing daughter, you could tell there was warmth beneath his rigid exterior. 

The first time you talked to him was less than ideal. You were attempting to set up a snare trap in the woods, wanting to try and contribute a little bit more. The frustration quickly turned to embarrassment when he snuck up on you. Your feet got caught in your own trap and caused you to trip and fall. 

“Looks like y’caught somethin’.” Daryl attempted to joke, walking past you and deeper into the woods with his crossbow pointed towards the trees. 

You cut yourself free of the poorly made snare and ran to catch up with him. Choosing your words carefully. 

“Daryl, right?” All you got was a grumble in response, “Listen I know you don’t know me or anythin’... But could you teach me how to hunt?” 

“Teach yourself. I ain’t got time for babysittin’.” His response stung a little, harsher than you had hoped it would be. 

You figured you should have expected that, though, the conversation him and Shane had this morning was heated. An argument almost leading to a full on fight. The tension was growing higher and higher as the days dragged on with no signs of Sophia. 

Then the group found out about what was inside the barn.

One day when Rick was out helping Hershel, Shane took it upon himself to break the chains on the barn door. Walker after walker spilled out, being shot down ruthlessly by some members of Rick’s group, while the Greene family cried out for them to stop. Their worst nightmare coming true, as well as Carol’s. 

A little girl limped out, skin grey and beginning to rot. Her hair was matted with leaves, eyes a milky grey color, and a rasping snarl emitting from her. There was a large gash on her shoulder, a bite. It was devastating to see a child fall victim to such a death. But even more so for Carol, coming to realize that each day they restlessly searched, she had already been dead.. 

The safety that the farm provided didn’t last long after that. 

Shane was quickly losing his grip, Dale was killed by a lone walker, and eventually the fields were overrun by walkers. A massive hoard stumbling onto the property, drawn in by the frequent gunfire. 

You had lost quite a few on that night, good people that had helped you come out of your shell, people that didn’t deserve what they got. In all honesty you didn’t think you would have made it out either if it wasn’t for Andrea and Daryl. 

After the fall of the farm, you were all lost. Hershel and his family had lost their home, and the entire group was left to search. 

But you had to bury your sadness for the time being, winter was quickly approaching. The leaves were changing into a crisp orange color, and the wind had a bite to it in the mornings, leaving you shivering as you huddled closer to the fire. Daryl had been kind enough to let you borrow his poncho some nights, insisting you probably needed it more than him. 

Daryl seemed to warm up to you after a while too. He would subtly make sure you ate by leaving a half eaten can of vegetables next to you, or would occasionally sharpen your knife for you after doing his own. It was a kind gesture, letting you know that he was starting to trust you. 

Eventually it got to the point where your group finally ran out of canned food. There were no stores around, and everyone was too cold or tired to go anywhere. So Daryl decided to take you out to the woods, finally going out of his way to teach you how to hunt. 

“Y’know what you’re trackin’?” He asked one day, slowly walking beside you, following a small winding trail in the woods. 

You were quiet for a second, thinking as you analyzed the tracks next to your feet, “Could be a deer, whatever it is, it’s got hooves.” 

“Obviously.” He huffed, resisting the urge to smile when you glared at him. 

“Shut the hell up, man.” A small sigh came from you, “Could be a hog.” You crouched down and moved the leaves out of the way to get a better look, “The prints are close together, if it were a deer they’d be further apart, right?” 

Daryl just shrugged, “You tell me.” 

That’s how your hunts would usually go, Daryl providing frustrating nonanswers as you attempted to close in on your prey. He wasn’t going to babysit you, as he had originally said when you first asked, you had to figure it out yourself. You knew that was the only way you’d be able to learn, even if it was mildly annoying. 

The winter finally started to melt into spring, temperatures rising and falling occasionally until settling into an in between. And soon enough your restless searching came to an end, the high chain link fences surrounding a prison with walkers meandering the expansive field calling your names. A soon to be shelter for your group and many others. 

The fight against Woodbury had been a painful ordeal, with Maggie and Glenn getting taken hostage, and Daryl leaving with his brother. The group was briefly left in shambles, hanging on by a thread as Rick slowly faded away, losing his way after Lori’s untimely death and the birth of her daughter. 

When Daryl left it broke your heart a little. The two of you had bonded over the course of the harsh winter, often seeking each other out as a heat source. Whispering stories of your families filling the silence as the biting wind wrapped itself around you. But you could never blame him for leaving, knowing you would do the same thing if you could. 

The first attack from the Governor was when Daryl finally returned, his mouthy brother in tow. They had rescued Rick on the outskirts of the fence, luckily finding him just in time before he was overpowered. 

It made you happy to see your friend again, a hand squeezing his shoulder before pulling him into a hug. It had been a lot less awkward than you expected, his arms wrapping around your middle and squeezing softly, reassuring you that he was okay. 

“Well, ain’t that just cute.” Merle had teased, pinching his little brother on the cheek. 

But the tragedies were never ending, your group seemed to constantly be one step away from death’s doorstep. 

The Governor decided to make his way back to the prison, armed gunmen following behind him. 

They wanted to execute every last one of you no matter what it took. Your group had laid out traps, pretending to have left as requested, lulling them in with a false hope that you were gone. Until the shrill sound of the prison sirens started, smoke grenades being thrown down at their feet in the darkened hallways. 

The armed militia of men, mothers, and teenagers the Governor recruited had run away in fear, knowing that their fates would be sealed if they stayed any longer. 

As the weeks continued after the attack, things started to look up. That once forgotten positivity slowly makes its way back into your heart, along with a smile as you allow yourself to get to know the former residence of Woodbury. Your community was slowly forming, a home being made out of the prison. 

It was easy to become comfortable. 

And as your fondness grew for Daryl, you remembered what your mother used to tell you. 

“You will find the one when you least expect it.” 

Who knew that the world had to end in order for you to find him. With every soft touch, lingering whisper, and a quick stolen kiss in the shadows of your cell, it grew increasingly more obvious that your mother may have been right. 

Daryl was the only person you felt safe enough to be vulnerable around. His gentleness towards you breaking down the walls around your heart, settling himself deep within it. And you gladly let him. You both decided to keep your relationship a secret. Enjoying the thrill of sneaking around, while also avoiding any teasing remarks that would come from your group. 

You knew that this was Daryl’s first serious relationship, so you wanted to allow him the grace of warming up to the idea. You wanted him to become more comfortable with himself, taking his time with you, soothing any anxious wandering thought he may have. 

But you knew that the group would notice eventually. Hell, they already were. The small teasing remarks being thrown your way would make Daryl stiffen. He would pick at the strings on his denim jacket as he huffed and grumbled something in response. 

“You want me to slip her a note or somethin’?” Carol teased him, nudging her elbow into his side, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” She laughed quietly when he rolled his eyes, “Come on Daryl-” 

She was cut off by someone running up to him, Glenn’s frantic eyes meeting Daryl and Carol’s before quickly sputtering out your name, “I don’t know what happened but-” 

The poor boy could barely get the words out before Daryl ran off towards the cell block. 

You were laying in your cell, blood covering your shirt as your side bled profusely. Hershel was quick to try and stop the bleeding, urging everyone to give him room to work. 

“If you want her to live, get out, now!” 

The blood drained from Daryl’s face as he looked at you. Bruises were beginning to bloom on your face and arms, your nose was bleeding and there was a slash on your cheek. Your boyfriend directed his anger towards one of the new members you had taken on a run, pinning him roughly against the concrete wall with his forearm. 

“The hell happened out there?! Huh?!” Daryl shouted in the scared man’s face, shrinking in on himself as Rick and Maggie tried to pull Daryl off. “Talk!” 

“We-” The man gulped, “We got attacked by a small group…” There were tears in his eyes as he tried to explain, his swollen lip trembling. He didn’t look much better than you did honestly, his eye was almost swollen shut, and there was blood coating his hairline, “She said- said she knew them, some group she was with. I thought they were gonna k-kill us.” He swallowed harshly, “They shot her…”

Daryl swore he could see red. His shoulders heaving as he started to pace, fingers running through his hair as he tried to process what the man had said. His face was hot, body pulsing with anger as he glanced back into your cell to see you lying there motionless. 

He stalked back up towards the man, his gaze hard and threatening as he spoke in a gruff voice, “If she dies, her blood is on your hands.” He pressed his finger hard into the man’s chest, pushing him harshly back into the concrete wall before stalking towards the exit of the prison. 

It took the entire council to talk Daryl out of hunting this group down himself. Carol telling him it was a suicide mission, and he would die if he left like this. Going into a situation blinded by rage was never good for anyone, especially now, with you lying unconscious in your cell. 

Luckily for you the bullet went straight through, and all they had to do was wait for you to wake up. 

Daryl didn’t dare leave your side, a rag gently dabbing across your forehead as he whispered softly to you. Unspoken words that he had wished he had told you sooner, words that only you were allowed to hear him say, something he had never dared utter to another person. Not even his own family. 

“I love you.” 

The time seemed to drag on slowly as he waited, his watchful not leaving you for more than a few seconds. His gentle fingers traced patterns on your skin, ignoring the occasional staring that would come from someone passing by your cell. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the secrecy, not now. 

“That fuckin’ tickles.” He suddenly heard you rasp, your eyes fluttering open and glancing down at his fingers on your forearm. 

Relief washed over Daryl like cool rain on a hot summer's day. His shoulders sagged and he couldn’t help but lean his head down to rest on your arm, a long sigh being released from his lungs. 

“Daryl…” You whispered, making him look at you, “It was my old group.” 

The look on your face was similar to the one you sported when they first found you, terrified, lost, confused. You didn’t know what to do with yourself knowing that not only were they still alive, but a lot closer than you would have liked. 

“I know.” He replied, his hand holding onto yours, “You don’t have t’worry about that right now.” 

Even though you were able to find happiness in the apocalypse, tragedy never ceased to sneak up from behind every corner. And you guessed that it had become easy to forget that life had a cruel sense of humor. 

It always would.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,692 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: War with the Saviors, specifically TWD S8 E13 after the battle at Hilltop Warnings: fear and anxiety, language, angst alert! Summary: You took an arrow to the shoulder during the battle at Hilltop and when the injured are sickened and turn, Daryl realizes his worst fear is going to come to pass.

“What the hell happened!?” Daryl spat, looking around at the now still corpses in the main entryway.

“I dunno,” Rick growled, spinning. “Maybe walkers got in?”

“Maybe during the fight,” Morgan echoed.

Daryl scrutinized the bodies. “These—these are all our own people though…”

Suddenly, there was a scream from upstairs and they raced up to find Carol standing over Tobin’s now silent body, blood dripping from the end of her knife.

“Are ya alrigh’?” Daryl asked, surveying the scene. Rick and Maggie stepped in beside him.

“Yeah,” gasped Carol. Her eyes were fixed on Tobin’s body. “He—he wasn’t bit. But he turned.”

They all exchanged tense and confused glances until Rick spoke. “Negan’s bat… when I was out there with him, it was covered in walker blood. I just thought he’d crossed some but… maybe…”

“They have us workin’ for them again,” Maggie said. “Killin’ our own.”

“Poisoned weapons with walker blood?” Carol said. “It’s some sick biological warfare.” Her eyes drifted back down to Tobin’s pale body on the floor and her heart ached.

Daryl didn’t say another word and abruptly left the room, his boot steps receding rapidly down the hall.

“Daryl?” Carol called after him, moving to the doorway.

Rick hung his head and passed a hand over his eyes. Maggie put a hand on Carol’s shoulder. “It’s—” Her throat was tight and she had to clear it before she could get more out. “It’s Y/N,” she said quietly. “She took an arrow in the back of her shoulder.”

Carol’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God…” Her wide eyes met Maggie’s and stung with tears.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face and paced a tight circle. “And Tara too. And who knows,” he kicked out at the nearby dresser, “how many others.” He fell to cursing Negan, though he knew it wouldn’t help.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl lingered at the closed door for a long moment, staring at the wood, his hand moving to grip the door knob a couple times before falling down to his side. Finally, he grasped it and turned, pushing into the room.

You were asleep in the bed and Enid was sitting beside you. At the expression on her face, his stomach dropped through the floor. She looked worried, and had apparently been studying you. She shot up to her feet as Daryl softly closed the door behind him and stood there looking grim.

“What was all that shouting?” Enid asked.

Daryl gulped, his eyes fixed on you in the bed. “How is she?”

Enid hesitated and then returned to your side. She shook her head. “Her wound wasn’t life-threatening. But—”

“But what?” Daryl urged her to go on.

Enid looked down at your face again. “She looks pale and—I don’t know. Her breathing changed.” She glanced back up at Daryl, her brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

Daryl hesitated for one moment and then walked over to your bedside and scrutinized your face. You indeed looked ashen, and there were small beads of sweat starting to form near your hairline. His stomach churned. He met Enid’s questioning gaze and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, trying to gain control of the wild emotions threatening to crush him at that moment. “We think The Saviors did somethin’ to their weapons. Ev’rybody that got wounded last night turned.”

Enid’s eyes went back to you asleep in the bed. “No,” she breathed with horror. “Oh my God.”

Daryl nodded, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough that the tang of copper filled his mouth. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat and did his best to appear steadfast. “Ya should go check on Tara.” His eyes strayed back to you again. “I’ve got this…”

Enid nodded, and with one final look at you and one anxious glance at Daryl, she quietly left the room.

Daryl stood at the end of the bed for a moment, watching the subtle rising and falling of the blanket over your chest. He thought it did seem a bit shallow. He slowly wandered over to the bedside and drew the chair closer, sinking down on it heavily and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his face. His brow tensed. The rising panic was returning. Your hand was lying on top of the quilt and his eyes traced the graceful curve of your fingers.

Part of him wanted to wake you, to see your eyes open and hopefully, clear. But another part of him knew he should let you sleep while you could.

It was short-lived.

Your breathing became shallower and more rapid and the clamminess of your skin increased. You stirred beneath the blanket and pushed it off, your eyes opening and a grimace passing over your face as you stared up at the ceiling.

Daryl leaned forward and you turned when you noticed him beside you, managing a tired smile. “Daryl,” you said softly, looking up at him. The corners of your eyes still crinkled even though the smile was a bit weak.

He chewed on his bottom lip. His anxiety was plain. Deep furrows were evident between his brows.

It didn’t take you long to remark on your condition on your own. You lifted a hand to wipe at the sweat on your forehead and then a shiver ran through you. He saw it clearly and tugged the blanket back up over you. “I’m sick,” you said. It was almost a question and then your eyes found his again. He saw mild confusion in them. “Daryl,” you said again. He looked so grim standing beside you. He held your eyes for only a brief moment before he felt the bubble of emotion rising up his throat and threatening to burst and he had to squeeze them shut. “What’s happened?” you asked. You reached for his hand, which was dangling at his side, and his eyes shot open again and looked at your fingertips touching his softly. He took your hand in his gently and warmed your fingers. Then his blue eyes found your ashen face again.

He felt like someone had rammed an icy blade up between his lungs and into his heart. He fought with emotion again and struggled to clear his throat enough to speak. Your eyes flickered between his, worried and puzzled. He opened his mouth to speak but then ducked his head one more time, passing his free hand over his eyes and drawing in a shaky breath. “They—the Saviors,” he started, his voice a mere whisper, “they did somethin’ to their weapons.” He swallowed down the tightness in his chest with great effort. “Ev’rybody who got hurt in the fight is either sick or—or already turned.” He waited for your reaction and forgot to breathe.

Understanding washed over your face and your expression fell, but you simply nodded. You seemed to shrink away into some depths within your eyes and Daryl was afraid he wouldn’t be able to reach you again. He fell into the seat at your bedside again and squeezed your hand. What could he say? There was nothing to say. No words would help at a time like this. You were going to die. It was that simple. And nothing he could say would fix it or make it any better. Your name caught in his throat and you looked over at him again. “I—‘m so sorry,” he said. His voice broke and the sound of it cut both of you like a scalpel. You were both wounded from this happening, and you would die, but Daryl would be left carrying that wound for the rest of his life. Why did you have to be the one to… Why couldn’t it have been him who was hurt? You of all people—it was too hard to bear. He should have been there. He should have protected you. He should have stopped it!

Your eyes grew glassy and a few tears escaped. You laced your fingers with his and gave him a sad smile, guessing his whirling thoughts. “It’s not your fault,” you told him. “They did this. It’s not your fault.”

He felt himself crumbling. “‘M so sorry,” he breathed again. He clasped your hand firmly between his and lifted it towards his mouth, but he didn’t press it to his lips, though he wanted to. His head dropped and you could tell he was struggling not to go to pieces. He was always trying to be strong, even when he didn’t need to.

“It’s okay,” you breathed. “It’s okay…”

“No, it ain’t,” he whispered back. His voice was shaky. “Nothin’ ‘bout this is okay. That bastard’s gonna pay for—”

A grimace tightened your features and your breath hitched. The sound stopped Daryl mid-sentence. He rested your hand back down on the blanket and a panicked look crossed his face. “What? What is it?”

Your eyes closed for a moment. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head against the pillow. “It’s nothing. Just—hurts a little. Aches is all. It’s okay. I’m okay…”

Daryl gulped down his emotion and regained himself. “‘M gonna be righ’ here. Ya ain’t gonna be alone. Okay?” His thumb moved against the silky skin on the back of your hand and you nodded.

“I know,” you said, managing another weak smile.

Suddenly, the door opened quietly and Enid came back in with Maggie trailing behind her. Both of you looked up.

Enid’s face fell as she readily saw your worsened condition. Maggie’s eyes filled with a glassy light as she came to stand beside Daryl.

“How’s Tara?” Daryl asked.

“She’s not sick,” Enid replied. “No sign of the fever yet.”

“Good,” Daryl said, staring back at the paleness of your hand in his.

“But we’ve got six more so far in here, and likely more outside. I sent Carol and Jesus to check on everyone, including the prisoners,” Maggie said. She bent down and stroked your hair. Her eyes filled with tears again. “‘M so sorry,” she whispered to you. “Do ya need anythin’? Anything we can do to make you more comfortable, just ask and we’ll do everything we can.”

Daryl’s head dropped and his eyes squeezed shut. “I’ll—‘m gonna be righ’ back,” he murmured. He met your eyes again. Your brow was furrowed and you were watching him carefully. “‘M gonna be back in just a minute. I promise,” he said softly.

The chair made a harsh noise as he stood up and your eyes tracked him all the way out the door.

Out in the hall, Daryl put some distance between himself and your room, striding down to the end of the hall and standing at the window, staring out at the beginnings of dawn just starting to tickle the deep blue sky with shots of pink and yellow. His fists clenched and his nails cut in little red crescent moon marks on his palms. How the fuck was the sun still coming up when you were laying in a bed dying? It felt like nothing should go on as normal ever again. He suddenly kicked out at the tall wooden cabinet beside him and it rocked and wobbled. And then he broke down. His head dropped and it was all he could do not to scream in agony at the painful chasm in his chest, sticking between his lungs and growing larger and larger as you paled and ached in that bed. Tears poured down his face and he pressed his forehead to the coolness of the glass in front of him.

He startled as a hand landed lightly on his shoulder and he hurriedly mopped his face, but when he turned he knew Maggie had already seen his overwhelming distress and grief. His shoulders shuddered as he gasped in a ragged breath and he shook his head. He saw his own pain, or some version of it, reflected on her face, and he thought of Glenn.

She only nodded and pulled him into a hug briefly. He sniffled and managed to get his breaking under control again. “Go on and be with her again. Enid and I will look after the others. Listen—when it’s time to say goodbye—”

He nodded. “I’ll send somebody to get ya’ll,” he croaked out. He mopped at his damp face again and pulled in a breath.

“Daryl, if you haven’t already, you need to tell her,” Maggie said. And with that, she headed downstairs.

Daryl took a few more deep breaths, steeled himself, and rushed back to your room. Enid gave you a kind smile and released her hold on your hand and quietly took her leave. Daryl swallowed hard and came to sit beside you again. Your eyes followed him across the room.

Your skin was feverish and he could see it making your hair and clothes damp. Had those dark circles been beneath your eyes when he’d stepped out? How long was he gone? How many minutes? It couldn’t have been more than a few, and yet you looked far worse… He got up and went to a pitcher and basin on the chest of drawers and poured in some water. Pulling out the bandana he always carried, he dunked it into the bowl and carried the whole thing over to the nightstand.

You watched him swirl the cloth in the water and wring it out. He pressed it to your forehead and it was cool. Your eyes were still trained on him. He knew you’d likely be able to tell why he’d stepped out of the room. “Here. Drink a little water if ya can,” he said, helping you with a glass Enid had brought.

You swallowed thickly and he set it aside again. “Are you alright?” you asked him. Your voice sounded thin.

He let out a dry laugh as he refreshed his bandana in the water again and dabbed at your neck. “Yer askin’ me that?” he drawled.

“Daryl,” you said softly, and your hand came up to grip his wrist, surprisingly strong. He met your eyes again and yours flickered between his.

He bit down on his bottom lip hard, trying to fight back the tidal wave and scream in his chest. Tears stung his eyes as he looked at you. Your hand floated back to the bed and the place your fingers had been felt hot. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “No,” he said. “I ain’t alrigh’. And I dunno if I’ll—if I will be.”

A shiver ran through you and Daryl tossed his bandana back down in the bowl and helped you pull the blankets up to your chin. You sighed and your eyes shut for a long moment. Daryl was afraid they wouldn’t open again, but they did. And when you looked straight at him, they seemed clearer somehow, and you smiled at him again despite the devastation written all over his face.

“What’re you smilin’ ‘bout?” he asked. There was a rasp to his voice.

“You,” you breathed. “Just you.”

He ducked his head, listening to each of your breaths, analyzing them for any change. He was far too aware of his knife on his hip.

“I need you to promise me something,” you said.

“Anythin’,” he nodded, leaning in.

“Don’t let this consume you. Please. Negan’s taken enough. Don’t end up one of the casualties too. You have so much good in you. Don’t let him take that away.”

He stared at you for a long moment and then suddenly stood up and leaned over you. His rough fingers brushed gently at your hair and then clasped your face. In that moment, maybe some trick of the changing light, but he thought you looked less ashen. He saw more color in your lips and in your cheeks. Your eyes were bright.

He kissed you then. His lips landed flush against the soft pillow of yours, and it was tender and wanting and desperate and soft all at the same time. He tried to put everything he wanted to say into that kiss. It lasted only a few seconds, but both of you mourned the separation, felt the profoundness of that connection as it had shifted your whole world. He sank back down at your bedside and grabbed your hand in his again, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. He refused to take his eyes off you now.

A smile grew slowly on your face and though your eyelids were heavy, the outer corners of your eyes smiled too, like they always did. “How’d you know that was on my bucket list? ‘Kiss Daryl Dixon.’”

He brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers and shook his head at you.

“I can die happy now,” you said.

“I shoulda told ya every damn day… I thought—I thought we had more time.” His voice broke on the last word.

“So did I,” you agreed. “Life’s a motherfucker like that,” you said dryly.

He almost laughed. “What ‘m tryin’ to say is I—ya know, I—” The words stuck in his chest. He couldn’t seem to get them out no matter how much he wanted to. I’ve been in love with you almost since I met ya.

“I know,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to say it, Daryl. I felt it too.” Your eyes closed again and you sighed, another grimace passed your face as your joints and muscles throbbed. “I’m not sure I can stay awake much longer,” you murmured. “I’m so tired.” You forced your eyes open again. “Would you lay with me? Please?”

Daryl’s chest ached so intensely he thought he would die of it. “Course I will.”

He came around to the other side of the bed and climbed on, scooting over toward your side until your body was almost against his. “C’mere,” he drawled, and he gently looped his arm underneath you and pulled you toward him. You felt featherlight in his arms. You laid tucked in against his body and closed your eyes. This close to you, he could easily hear your every breath, feel every shudder of your body, feel the fever and the chills—but he could also feel the shape of you, your weight, breathe your smell. Your head rested against his shoulder and nuzzled toward the crook of his neck.

“I’m so tired,” you said again, sighing. He could feel your breath on his skin. The silence stretched and his rough fingers drew absent shapes on the bare skin of your arm. Your weight grew heavier against him. “I want you to know… it’s alright if you can’t do it. At the end… It doesn’t have to be you. I need you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. Someone else can…” you trailed off.

He gulped and nodded. “I’mma be righ’ here.”

“I know,” you whispered. Your eyes were closed. “I love you…”

He pressed a kiss to your hair. “I love ya too...” His voice broke, but you didn’t hear it. You were already asleep.

He didn’t know how long he had laid there with you. He was still scrutinizing your every breath and every moment, waiting for the horrific change to take place, or waiting for you to awake in agony as the sickness progressed. But so far, you just slept on. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to, anyway.

Eventually, the door creaked open and Rick stepped in barely over the threshold before he froze, seeing Daryl there with you on the bed. They locked eyes for a moment, Rick’s eyes grew glassy and he gave a nod, but then he immediately retreated. No one should intrude on that scene. And he made sure no one would, unless they were called for.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was staring at the bright sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains. He had no concept of time as he lay there with you asleep against him. Every moment felt agonizingly long and cruelly short at the same time. He was watching the dust particles floating in the currents of air when you stirred. Your hand landed flush to the center of his chest and you turned on your side almost curling into him. He gently took your hand in his and ran his thumb over your soft skin.

Your stirred again and let out a sigh, stretching beside him. Your eyes blinked open. “Daryl…” you said suddenly.

He squeezed your hand gently. “Yeah. ‘M righ’ here.”

“I—I know.” You pushed yourself up on the palm of your hand, still angled in toward him. “Daryl, look at me.”

He did. Your eyes were wide and surprised, but beyond that you looked… like yourself. The color was back in your face, in your lips. Your eyes were bright and clear. You looked well. Your name slipped past his lips.

“I’m not sick,” you said with disbelief. “I don’t feel—I mean, my bones felt like glass before. And—I’m not hot or cold. I—”

Daryl was sitting up now too, staring at you bewildered. He clasped your face and pressed his hand to your forehead. You didn’t feel feverish. Your skin wasn’t clammy. “Ya ain’t sick…” he drawled, the same disbelief dripping from every word. “Ya ain’t—” A laugh bubbled out of you as he popped up onto his knees, kneeling in front of you on the bed, staring with bafflement. “How—how?”

You shook your head. “I—I don’t know…” you stammered, your heart racing. “I felt—I was dying. I felt it. And now—I still feel like I got hit by a truck, and my shoulder hurts like a bitch but—I’m not sick.”

Daryl took your face in both of his hands and his lips crashed down onto yours. You arched into him and kissed him back, relishing the feeling of his hands drifting down to your waist and gently pressing on your lower back to pull you in against him. He still looked dumbfounded when the two of you broke apart, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“I gotta—we gotta—” Daryl vaulted himself off the bed, leaving you kneeling in the middle of it, surrounded by the rumpled blankets. He ripped the door open and shouted out into the hallway. “Maggie! Enid!” He turned back to stare at you, his chest heaving as he seemed to have lost his breath. A stampede of footsteps answered and soon Enid, Maggie, Rosita, Rick, Michonne, Carol—even Tara—were bursting in looking grim and worried. Seeing their expressions, Daryl realized they all thought it was time to say goodbye to you. He hurried to correct their assumption. “She—she ain’t sick. Look! Her fever’s gone and she—she ain’t sick anymore.”

All eyes drifted to you sitting upright on the bed, almost looking as if nothing had happened to you at all.

Enid stepped forward, shock written on her face, and you could only smile as she reached a hand out and pressed the back of it to your forehead. She snapped around to look at everyone else again, a teary smile on her face. “She doesn’t have a fever,” she said, shaking her head.

A whoop went up through the room and soon nearly everyone was hugging you and kissing your cheek, patting you on the back as if you’d done anything at all consciously. But Daryl simply stood by the door, leaned up against the wall watching the scene with a teary smile on his face that wasn’t budging. As the last of your family hugged you, your eyes connected with his again and you felt a shock of electricity run up your back and butterflies erupted in your chest.

“I—I don’t understand how this is possible!” Carol laughed happily.

Rick was shaking his head, smiling.

“Has anyone ever heard of this happening before?” Rosita asked. “I mean, should we still be worried?”

Enid shrugged and shook her head, looking at a loss. “Well, it’s not the same as a bite. It seems like maybe her body was able to fight off the infection.”

Rick rubbed a thoughtful hand over his face. “Maybe it’s like how some people get sick from gutting up the first time, some people the twentieth, and some people never do.”

“Some combination of immune system and dosage maybe,” Maggie said thoughtfully, her eyes still glassy with happy tears.

“Well, whatever it is, thank God. We needed another win,” Michonne said.

Enid nodded and looked back at you on the bed. Daryl was still leaned up against the wall by the door. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. “She may not have a fever anymore but I don’t want to push it. Back in bed,” she said, grabbing hold of the blankets again. “I want you to rest. Your body has been through a lot.”

You moved a little gingerly laying down again, realizing now that your shoulder that had taken the poisoned arrow did still hurt a lot. “I’ll rest… feels like I’m still trying to shake the worse flu of my life.” Exhaustion was settling back over you again. The adrenaline had waned. But your cheeks and lips still had a healthy, rosy glow.

Enid filled the glass on the nightstand with fresh water again for you and instructed everyone to leave so you could sleep. Everyone listened, except Daryl. And somehow, everyone knew he was the exception.

He shut the door softly behind Tara as she went out and the two of you were alone again. He wandered back over to the bedside and you looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes growing tired again.

“Are you still going to keep watch over me?” you asked him.

He nodded. “Mhm… now and every damn day of yer life. If you’ll have me that is…” he said a little abashedly, ducking his head. “Actually, ‘m gonna do that whether ya want me to or not.”

You smiled. “Can you do that from in this bed again? Please?”

“Are ya kiddin’?” He climbed in beside you again and you rolled toward him, tucking yourself into his body. Your breathing was strong and steady; no sign of the ragged, shallow respiration that had plagued you overnight.

“You want to know what I think saved me?” you asked, resting your head on his chest, your arm draped over him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, now feeling his own exhaustion settle over him like a heavy blanket. Now that the terror and devastation and fear and grief had receded, he was drained.

“I think you cured me. With that kiss,” you said, and he could hear a smile in your voice. “Love saved us. The universe decided it couldn’t separate us.”

Daryl let out an amused exhale. “I ain’t magic. Pretty sure this ain’t a fairy tale.”

You sighed and nuzzled against the crook of his neck. “I’m starting to think it might be,” you whispered sleepily.

Daryl’s cheek pressed against the top of your head. He tugged you in more snugly and paused thoughtfully. “Well… I do kinda gotta agree with ya there. Now, sleep,” he hushed you. “I dun wanna risk anythin’. Ya need rest.”

“You too,” you said with a yawn. “And now we’ve got time.”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you do a Daryl Dixon one where he almost loses her to someone/something/or a walker so he decides to tell her that he loves her and he makes love to her as well. A little possessive and maybe kinda future family references?

.⋆｡Worst Timing｡⋆.

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

Daryl is an all or nothing man, so obviously he would only tell you that he was desperately in love with you right after you almost died.

Warnings: canon-level violence, walkers, loosely based around s6 ep9, sorry no smut this time (i blame the luteal phase), angst, fluff, confessions, blood, mention of kids  WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

A/N: Could be read as a part 2 to this but it isn't necessary to read it first

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The sounds of walkers were almost deafening, almost. The crackling of the flames behind him and the squelch of blades against flesh but Daryl forced himself to ignore all of that, though the volume kept increasing like someone had turned up the world’s biggest stereo. 

Withered hands reached for him, but the hunter battered them away with a swing of his knife. He just had to get further into the crowd, he could see the house where the group had been held up, the candles in the window like a beacon in the night. He was only a couple hundred feet away, a few rows of walkers between him and his people.

The sea of rotting bodies parted for just a moment, right as a street lamp flickered to life, and there you were. A crowbar in your dominant hand, your clothes soaked in blood and walker guts, your eyes reflecting the fire in front of you and for a moment, Daryl froze in awe. You gracefully swung the weapon over your head, bringing it down into the skull of a fresh walker before spinning on your heel and using the otherside to connect with the jaw of another. You moved fluidly, like this was a well-practised dance you had done hundreds of times before instead of a game of survival. 

Your arm came down, spiking a crawler through the top of its skull. But suddenly, you stopped moving, your eyes going wide. You grabbed at the crowbar with both hands and pulled back but it refused to budge, and just as you vanished once more into the crowd, Daryl saw why.

The straight end of the crowbar had pierced all the way through the walker and buried itself in the hard soil beneath your feet and with the walkers closing in around you, you had no room to get enough leverage to pull it out. Then you vanished between the walkers once more.

“Y/N!” Daryl didn’t even think as he launched himself in your direction, hunting knife screaming through the air, cutting down anything that stood in his way. He pushed and shoved and clawed his way through because you were all that mattered, you were all he lived for. The moment he met you in that stupid, beautiful, damned farm, his world had tilted on its axis.

Your smile was his sunlight, your laugh, his favourite music. Your body, his aurora borealis. You were a miracle and yet so painfully human all the same. And if he let you die, his heart would wither away with you before he ever got to tell you that it had been yours since before you both had even met.

Red blurred his vision though whether it was from blood or rage, he didn’t care to find out. He threw his broad shoulder into the chest of a particularly tall walker, forcing it back into the waiting blade of one of the Alexandrians and finally, finally clearing the way to you. 

You were pinned against the street curb, your back curved at an awkward angle as the weight of two walkers kept you from standing or rolling away. You held one back with your left arm, its face barely centimetres from your own, as you wedged a knee between you and the second one.

His fingers sank into the rotted flesh of the creature trying to sink its teeth into your forearm and threw it off with so much force that as soon as it hit the concrete several feet away, its skull cracked open, spilling black brain matter onto the street. You were now fully on your back, still punching and kicking in any direction you could, even as the walkers started to thin. You shoved off the second walker, just in time for Daryl’s steel-toed boot to come down right on the back of its head.

“Daryl.” His name dripped from your lips like honey, immediately cooling his head like some sort of balm to his soul. The ground shook as he fell to his knees next to you. The orange light of the lake still burning strong flickered across your face, illuminating every single detail he had memorised so long ago.

The roughness of his palm met the softness of your full cheek, sending a spark of excitement racing through his tired body. “I almost lost ya.” You pressed into his touch, your own shaking hand cupping his elbow as you leaned in closer.

“But you saved me.” His heart skipped a beat and you smiled gently at him. You were here, you were alive and in his arms and suddenly, Daryl couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

Your lips were chapped and dry but perfect all the same as he finally kissed you. A squeak of surprise passed from your mouth to his before your eyes fluttered shut and you pressed against him. Your fingers curled into the soft leather of his vest, like you were trying to anchor him to you as if he were about to get up and walk away. Daryl snarled at the thought, his grip on your jaw getting tighter as the kiss began to heat up.

You were desperately chasing his lips, your feelings so plainly laid out for him that Daryl felt stupid for never having seen them before. He felt your need to be by his side in the warmth of your touch, the faith you had in him in the way you let his weight rest against you. 

The softness of your body moulded to him in a way he could only imagine it would and it was so much more than that. Your nose bumped into his, prompting him to tilt his head. You responded with a soft moan that shot through his body. 

“While I am happy for you two, we still have shit to do, now’s not really the time.” You pulled away from Daryl’s lips with an embarrassed gasp, leaving him cold without your touch. Michonne stood above the both of you, equally haggard and filthy but her smile, although small, was genuine if not teasing. 

“Sorry.” You scrambled to your feet and pulled your crowbar from where it was still stuck. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at Daryl, a promise and heat in your gaze, before you jogged off into the centre of town where the herd was now thinned but still biting. 

He watched you go, his heart trailing behind you. “Rick’ll want to be godfather to your kids, just so you know.” 

A blush exploded across his face. “Shuddup.” He rushed after you, cheeks still burning and his body exhausted but he felt lighter than he had ever felt before. Because you were surviving and you were his and by whatever god was out there, he would spend the rest of his life thanking them for that.

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[thefreakydeaky]

After the Thrill is Gone

Part Eleven

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Negan Smith x Reader

Modern AU

Summary: From the first moment you laid eyes on Negan you were inexplicabley drawn to him. The passion between you is hot and only grows more intense the longer you see each other. There is only one problem, you're both married to other people.

Warnings: Dark Fic ,Physical acts of agression, Stalking, Stalker behavior, Smuttyness, Adult Language...

The day of Wyatt's first baseball game came and you didn't think you could stand another incident with Negan.

"I'm not feeling well. I think I'm just gonna stay here." You told Daryl as he got dressed.

"Don't do this. Don't make this about you." He said without turning to look at you.

You sniffed.

"I'm not making it about me. I'm telling you, I don't feel well-"

"This is about Coach Jackass being on your shit list. Don't tell me it isn't cause I know it is."

You gasped.

"That-that's not true-"

"It is and I'm not gonna let you do this to Wyatt. He's excited about this. As his mother you need to be there and cheer 'im on. Don't let somethin' petty get in the way of being there for your son."

You tried to blink back the tears in your eyes.

"Daryl, I-"

He said your name like he was scolding a child. "We're not leaving until your butt is in that car."

When you didn't move from the corner of the bed he threw open your side of the closet and rifled through your clothes.

You startled when he threw a dove grey loose fitting jumpsuit and a white tshirt at you.

"Get dressed." Daryl didn't often raise his voice. It frightened you to hear him speak to you that way.

Reluctantly you stood and began to dress.

••••••••••••

At the field you sat on the metal bleachers and unpacked Millie's things, her cup of juice, and a few toys. Hunter sat beside Daryl playing something on his switch. You entertained yourself with looking after Millie. You put a little bit of sunblock on Millie's face and arms. You could only bear to look up at what was going on, on the field every now and then as Negan was standing right in your line of sight. You clapped and cheered whenever Daryl and some of the other parents did, but you did not really know what was going on. When Wyatt came up to bat, you put your attention on him. You watched as he changed his stance and got ready to swing. The pitcher threw the ball and it flew fast, but Wyatt hit it. He hit it so hard it went sailing into the outfield.

You stood and watched the ball land as the other team scrambled to get to it.

Daryl whistled.

"Run, Wyatt!" You cheered.

He took off booking it past first base and making it to second before the ball made it back to the first baseman.

You clapped and sat back down to watch the next kid go up to bat. Millie began to whine, so, you picked her up to try to quiet her. You patted her back, bouncing her a little bit. Then you watched as your son stole third while another kid was running for first. You cheered.

Millie did not like your cheering one bit. She began to cry. You got off the bleachers, holding her tighter, so you wouldn't drop her. When you reached the ground, you decided what was best for Millie was a walk. You turned away from the game and started off down the sidewalk, Millie began crying louder as the people cheered again. You turned to watch Wyatt as he stepped on home base, making a home run. You smiled at him, but didn't cheer for Millie's sake. Then you continued to follow the side walk behind the bleachers and along the side of the field. You patted the baby's back and softly hummed a lullaby as you walked. You felt eyes on your back. A shiver went through you. You tried to ignore the unease in your belly and focus on your little one, but the feeling did not ebb.

When the game was finished you watched the kids line up to shake hands with the other team. You could see the glee on Wyatt's team mates faces. You shook your head. The hand shake was definitely not doing what it was intended to do.

The kids lined up and one by one were allowed to leave with their parents. Wyatt stood at the end of the line. You went to get him, Millie asleep in your arms.

Negan smiled wide at your approach.

"Did you see him out there? The boy's a natural." He boasted.

You nodded.

"Yes, he did real good." You commented.

"Some of the kids are meeting for pizza at a place on main street to celebrate. Between all of us adults, we can get all these kids fed. What do ya say?"

"Can we go? Please Mom? Please?" Wyatt begged.

"Well, we have to ask your dad-"

"Okay!" Wyatt took off toward your husband, who was talking to one of the other parents.

You winced.

"You're gonna have to learn to put on a better face than that if you want to get through this. Lots of people will be watching." Negan huffed.

"I don't want to be around you. Why should I hide that?"

"You don't want people questioning why that is, do ya?"

You frowned.

He touched Millie's cheek.

"Like it or not, I have got you over a barrel. What I say goes or else..."

"That doesn't mean I have to pretend we're friends. If anything being someone who doesn't like your fake ass nice guy persona and cocky attitude is the perfect cover." You remarked.

"Hey, I will have you know that plenty of people find me down right charming."

"Oh, I'm sure that's only because they can't see through it. They can't see the cynical, egotistical, narcissist that lays beneath it all." You said it casually. You even smiled a little so as not to draw attention.

"In case you forgot, you liked me just fine for a long time."

"I didn't know the real you, but," You forced your tone to sound cordial. "I sure know now."

He laughed, in that polite way people did in casual conversation.

"You don't know me half as well as you think you do, but don't you worry, I am gonna take care of that."

You shook your head, ready to rip him a new one.

Negan's eyes went to something behind you and you turned to see Daryl walk up.

"Good game, Coach. Good game."

They shook hands.

You took it as an out and turned away.

"Your wife says you'll be joining us for pizza. So glad to hear it." Negan said with a huge grin on his face.

You swallowed the series of curse words wanting to flow from you. So, this was to be your future? Well, Fuck.

[slasherslittlesimp]

The Hunter (TWD X Reader)

PART ONE

There's a long pause of silence as everyone gets lost in their own thoughts- some thinking of ways to get out of the mess they're stuck in, while others think of how they're doomed and that there's no way out. The room stays silent for a long period of time until Michonne suddenly stands up a bit straighter from her spot leaning against the wall. Everyone's eyes move towards her at the sudden movement, finding her eyes a bit wide as she stares straight at Rick. They wait with bated breath to hear what she has to say, and it's honestly not what they expected.

"I think I know someone that can help us." She states, seeming admittedly a bit nervous. "I have never personally met them, but I have heard rumors. If we can find this person, I believe they can help us with our problems."

"And how do we find this mystery person?" Rick questions, a bit doubtful at her suggestion. A person she hasn't seen? Someone she only knows based on rumors? How much faith can someone have in a plan like that?

"Do you trust me?" Michonne stares Rick in the eyes, her jaw clenched tight with nerves as she awaits his answer. When he gives a nod in answer, she slowly unclenches her jaw before raising her head a bit higher to show her confidence. "Then give me a week. I will track down this person and then we can go talk to them."

Rick sighs, rubbing his hand over his beared face. "One week. That's it. We can't afford to waste any more time than that on something that may not even exist."

Exactly four days later, a few members of the group find themselves trekking through the woods that Michonne claims to be this mystery persons territory. For a while they doubt her claims. That is until they hear something that hasn't been heard in years- birds chirping. Looking around, the group watches in slight awe as birds flutter from tree to tree. Then, they hear a twig snap, and they all watch with bated breath as a fawn appears between the trees followed by a few other deer.

Daryl goes to raise his crossbow only to be stopped by Michonne who quickly shakes her head. "I wouldn't do that. Not unless you want to get on their bad side."

Daryl quirks a brow at the statement but relents, lowering his crossbow. Rick watches the exchange before looking around at the bustling wildlife surrounding them, seemingly untouched by the end of the world. "Who the hell is this person?" He mumbles in both confusion and awe. This person has to be something special if they're able to keep this place and it's wildlife protected from all sorts of threats.

Continuing their trek, they eventually stumble upon what appears to be a greenhouse of some sort. It's dome shaped, and pretty much entirely made of glass. They're a bit too far to really make out anything inside, though. Especially when the sun reflects off of it in a way that leaves them squinting.

"You're trespassing." A new voice suddenly speaks up, causing them all to whirl around with their weapons raised. There, leaning casually against a tree as they bite into a peach, is you. You're wearing a simple grey shirt and jeans, but what draws their attention is the black chord with a few animal teeth attached to it hanging around your neck.

Michonne steps forward, having been the only one to not pull out her weapon. "Are you the hunter?"

Your chilling gaze drifts over to her. "Depends who's asking."

"We need your help." There's a hint of desperation in her voice that has you quirking an intrigued brow.

Interest piqued, you hold out your hand holding the peach, allowing the fawn from earlier to come eat it. Once the peach is devoured, you gently pat the fawns head before moving away from the tree, beginning to walk towards the group. Their bodies tense, grips tightening on the weapons they have yet to lower as you grow closer to them. "Come. Let's discuss the details in my home."

The group all look towards Rick whose gaze is locked onto your back as you walk away from them towards the greenhouse. It takes a second, but he eventually puts his gun away with a terse nod, letting the others know that everything's fine for now. Him and Michonne are the first to follow after you, the others following with their guards still up.

As they all enter the greenhouse, their eyes immediately dart around, looking at all of the miscellaneous items you own. Their attention is drawn back to you the second you hold up what appears to be a pot of freshly brewed coffee. You tilt it slightly towards them in offering, but they all stare with distrust. Shrugging, you pour yourself a cup, making it just the way you like before taking a large gulp of it- seemingly uncaring of its scalding temperature.

“The coffee beans are freshly harvested. I grow them here.” You use your cup to motion towards an area of the greenhouse where various types of vegetation grows. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“How can we trust you?” The other woman in the group- Maggie- questions, her gaze harsh. You can tell just from looking at her that she’s been through a lot.

“You must already trust me at least a little if you’re here asking for my help.” You point out. They wandered into unknown territory- territory they would likely struggle to navigate or fight in- just to find you. So, on some subconscious level, they already trust you. “What is it that you wish to speak about?”

“We need help with a group.” Rick shuffles where he stands, obviously uncomfortable with asking a complete stranger for help.

“A bad group, I assume?”

“They’re called the saviors.” Maggie speaks, her voice a bit shaky as her throat tightens. “Ran by someone named Negan. He killed two of our people, one of which was my husband.”

“The saviors.” You repeat the name thoughtfully. They’re not a group you’ve heard of before. Then again, you haven’t really been in the hunting business since the world ended. This is the first time in a long time that someone is coming to you for something like this. “I assume you want me to kill this Negan guy?”

“Him and his men.” Maggie grits out, jaw clenched with disdain. “None of them should live.”

“And the location?”

You all continue to discuss the details for a while longer. They tell you about what Negan looks like, along with the descriptions of some of the people they’ve seen with him. They tell you everything they know. By the end of it, you agree to do as they ask. People like Negan are exactly the kind of people you used to hunt. And he seems like the perfect target for getting back into it.

Part Two

[daryltwdixon]

Picture You

You and Daryl both fantasize about each other--at the same time it turns out.

Inspired by Picture You by Chappell Roan

Content warnings: smut !!!!

I had to run and splash cold water over my face after this one

black font: you blue font: Daryl purple font: when you're actually together

There had been a lot of…touching going on lately. That’s as plain as you could explain it. Anytime you were near Daryl, he’d find a way to put his hand on the small of your back if he was passing behind you. He would manage to sit by you a lot, brushing the side of his arm against yours. On runs lately, he stayed closer to you, touching your arm to get your attention. Protecting you even when against the smallest threats. You noticed him…watching you too. If Daryl were anywhere near you, his eyes were always latched onto you; studying, assessing… admiring? You weren’t sure if you’d go that far. But god, did you love it.

He couldn’t stop himself from just…being around you. You had some sort of magnetic field specifically calculated to his center of gravity–his true north. He couldn’t help the times he’d brush by you, his hand on you or if he was lucky enough to be close, smell the lingering scent of your shampoo. Even if you hadn’t showered in days, which sometimes was the case, your scent drew him into you. He couldn’t stop watching you either. Everytime he caught himself staring and you’d meet his gaze, he would kick himself for probably being such a creep. You were hypnotizing to him. 

So, he finds himself in the bathroom alone, thinking of you at dinner that day. Sucking your fingers clean after your meal, licking your lips when you looked up at him. He’s unsure if he was imagining the hunger in your eyes–even after a full meal. 

He’d been aching in his trousers the entire time it took him to excuse himself from the group and make his way down the cell blocks into the bathroom, shutting the door tightly behind him. In what must’ve been a guard’s bathroom–it was a single washroom with a counter for the sink and white tile all along the room, from floor to ceiling. When he finally was confident he was in the bathroom alone with the door locked, he unzips his pants and pulls out his already throbbing member. 

His hand is wrapped around the base of himself, teasing and gentle like he pictures you holding it. He closes his eyes, imagining you on the sink in front of him now, sitting on the edge of the cold counter, your legs around his waist. Behind his eyes, he is wrapping his hands around your thighs as he leans into you, his mouth on yours, tongue plunging into your warm, wanton mouth. He can almost smell you, imagining the scent of cheap green apple shampoo you found on your last run. His tongue dances with yours, letting himself take control of the embrace, his mouth claiming you. His hand fists his cock slowly up and down, but tightening his grip as he pictures you reaching down to palm him through his pants. In his mind’s eye he kisses along your jaw, down to where your neck meets your shoulder, eliciting a small moan from you. He pulls back from you, lifting your shirt over your head gently, but with haste. When he looks back at you, your eyes are half lidded with desire, lips wet and swollen. God, you’re so fucking pretty like this. So needy for him. His lips reattach to the skin of your neck, your hand coming up behind his to hold him close. Your fingers reach and scratch gently at the nape of his neck. His lips journey down your body, tongue gliding around your nipples before he pulls one into his mouth between his teeth. Your heavy breathing and moans bring a smile to his face as he looks back up in your eyes. 

He crouches down, his hands coming behind your knees and down your calves, bringing your bottoms and panties down with them. After discarding your clothes, he begins kissing your legs from your ankles, nipping when he gets to the softness of the inside of his thighs. He imagines your hand coming down and intertwining in his long hair. He lifts his eyes up to yours as he slowly makes his way to your center, your legs trembling in anticipation. His mouth meets your dripping—

Daryl’s hand comes up against the mirror roughly, losing control of himself. His eyes flash open as he stumbles and grips the wall beside the sink, steadying himself. He has to release his hand from himself to keep from finishing right then and there. He’s not done with you yet, even if it’s just in his mind. 

You’re settling into your cot a little while after dinner. Daryl had been watching you again today. So, you decided to play his little game back at him. At dinner you saw him watching you with a predator’s gaze. He was fixed on you through the whole meal, so god forbid you wanted to be a little tease. You made sure to lick your fingers clean slowly, licking your lips looking at him afterwards. It took you aback when you saw his eyes darken even more, but you just returned the look with one just as hungry. Eventually he excused himself a little while later, but the look in his eyes was on your mind the rest of your time you stayed at the table. 

Back in your bed, you have your hands traveling down your chest, over the thin fabric between your fingers and sensitive nipples. You let your eyes flutter closed, imagining Daryl’s hands traveling where your’s are. You slowly let them drift down your stomach, pressing your thumb in gentle circles on your hips. Your legs can’t help but start to fidget as you get more and more impatient for him. In your fantasy, Daryl is leaning over you now, bringing his lips down to the sensitive skin of your hips, nipping at you affectionately, bringing his tongue out in apologies when he bites you harder, making your hips buck. 

“Easy,” he would growl out, his breath fanning over your eager center. He turns his head and bites, licks, nips, sucks on your inner thigh near the juncture of your apex and leg. Your hand reaches down to intertwine into his long hair, your body begging for him. 

Your fingers slowly meet your wetness, starting on the lips and entrance, imagining his tongue there instead. Circling your most sensitive area without giving you what you want most. Your back is arching off the bed, sweat starting to bead on your chest and forehead. You imagine his hands gripping your hips harder now, trying to steady you as he devours you. His tongue finally comes into contact with your clit, flattening his tongue and laving at it like it’s his last meal on earth. He purses his lips, suckling you and grazing his teeth against the nub. Your eyes flash open at the feeling of it, pausing and breathing heavily. You stare at the top bunk above you, collecting yourself before you get too close to the edge. You gently glide your fingers down again, toward your slippery hole.

Daryl has his mouth back on your center in his mind. Fisting his cock again, he leans back against the bathroom wall, mouth slightly agape, eyes closed in ecstasy. In his mind’s eye, he is kissing, sucking, eating, nipping, devouring you. Your fingers tighten in his hair and your legs are resting over his shoulders as he brings his fingers up to tease your entrance, his mouth never leaving you. You gasp and buck when he inserts a long finger into you, immediately finding the corner of your walls that makes your eyes roll. You’re already close, he can feel you tightening around him and he brings another finger into you. Your hips are undulating against his hand, riding his fingers in pure bliss. Your sweet, gushing cunt is convulsing against his fingers, your legs beginning to tense. But before you have a chance to finish, he pulls away from you. 

“Jesus, Daryl” you whisper to yourself, your hips bucking at your own fingers inside of you. You’re grinding against your own hands, trying to find the friction you so badly need.

“Fuck,” Daryl growls out loud as his hand is moving faster on himself, his cock hot and heavy in his hand. He’s raising himself up in front of you, hands back under your thighs to pull you towards him. His cock slides up and down your soaked entrance, and your hands are gripping his arms, nails pressing into him, eager. So eager for him. Your body begging before you can speak the words, “Daryl,” he imagines you whispering into his neck, finally able to make a coherent word in your blissed out state, “please,”. 

He grabs your hips, pulling you into him fully. He lets his throbbing cock enter you. Your head falls back and his mouth meets your throat, loving the salty taste of your sweat on his tongue now. The symphony of your moans and slapping of skin echoes in his ears making his cock twitch in his hand. 

You’re gyrating against your hand in hopeless abandon, your other hand coming up to graze your nails against your throat, imagining Daryl’s teeth on you while he enters you. He isn’t a quiet lover in your mind—he’s grunting against your skin, his mouth vibrating with the sound coming from him. You don’t mean to you but your quiet whispers of ecstasy are turning into whimpers. And when your fingers finally find that one spot, hitting your clit perfectly against the heel of your palm, you let out a moan. 

“Daryl,”

Your moaning is driving Daryl wild, he’s thrusting into you with sweet abandon, pulling you flush against him like he can’t get you close enough. But suddenly he takes a pause from a disturbance in the hallway outside. He stills and listens intently. There’s a gentle echoing out in the cell block and—did he just hear his own name? No, no, he’s just imagining it from thinking of you.

No wait— yes. Yes, that's his name. Softly being called out to him. He tucks his pulsing, aching member back into his pants in what only can be described as bewilderment. He gets out of the bathroom and softly walks down the cell block, getting closer to the sounds of a desperate whimpering. 

You are careful not to let another loud moan out again, aware people could be sleeping around you. But you truly could not contain the whimpers coming out of your mouth, the heavy breathes that you were gulping as you continued to ride your hand, imagining the archer’s cock deep inside you. You wondered what he’d really feel like, how he’d stretch you out as you’d cling to his gorgeous biceps. Would he be slow and agonizingly tender or would he be so ravenous he wouldn’t be able to be gentle with you? You knew in your core you didn’t want him gentle. At least not the first time he got his hands on you. You’re palming your own chest, imagining his hand grabbing, pulling, kneading your breast. Your legs are trembling from the pressure building in your core now, your skin flushing with heat. You can’t help the desperate whimpers escaping from you now in the moonlit cell block, forgetting the people sleeping around you. His name keeps slipping through your mouth along with a string of incoherent curses. 

“Are you going to cum for me?” You hear him say, but you jolt with electricity when you realize it wasn’t in your head. Your eyes fly open, your body frozen in place. You are fully and completely in the direct view of the archer in the doorway. His eyes are hauntingly dark with desire, and when you get a good look at him, his pants are tight against his lower half. 

“What—what’re you—“ you hoarsely whisper.

He makes his way over to you, pulling your hand up to his face, taking both of your fingers into his mouth to taste you. His tongue glides deliciously around your sensitive finger tips, sucking and grazing his teeth just as you imagined him. 

“Do you want—“ he whispers. 

“Yes, god yes,” you plead. 

He stands and begins to undress, your hands all over him and soaking in the sight of his beautiful body. Your fingers trace the lines of his muscles as he discards the last of the things keeping you from him. He joins you in the bed, leaning over you, caging you in between his arms on either side of your head.

“I wanna hear you say my name again,” he whispers, holding his fingers against your wet center.

“Please, please no teasing. I need to know what you feel like,” you beg of him.

He groans, dipping his head into the crook of your neck. His sweat slicked hair sticking to you as he kisses and bites you tenderly. You reach down and grasp his member in your hand. It’s hot and thick and heavy with need. He growls against your skin, sitting up now and taking your hand off of him. He interlaces your fingers and puts them back by your head, making you helpless. His other hand is on his cock, leading himself up to your entrance. He is sliding the head along your drenched center and your hips buck with need. 

“I’ve been thinking about you, just like this. Under me, on top of me, all of you. Been thinkin’ about it a long time,” his voice is hoarse, almost a whisper.

“Daryl,” you whisper. Your other hand is grabbing for him on his stomach, chest, shoulders. Touching anything you can reach, “please”

He plunges into you in sweet euphoria, and your moan escapes you before he has time to cover your mouth with his large hand. He leans on top of you now, his weight pressed into you as he thrusts with desperation into you. God, you feel just as good as he expected. Better even. Tight, warm, delicious walls constricting around him. 

He doesn’t relent, bringing his hand down between you finally to press his thumb on your sensitive nub. Your eyes roll back and you're meeting his hips with every thrust now. He’s beginning to get messy with his rhythm and his sweat drips down onto your chest.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

You nod vigorously, “I’m–mm so c-close-ss-” you breathe, gripping his arms with desperation.

“Cum with me, baby, please–fuck. I want to see you cum with my cock inside you,” he says breathlessly. Your back arches at his words, and the feeling of your cunt convulsing around him topples him over the edge just as you do the same. 

Daryl’s face is tucked into your neck as you both take deep breaths. Your hand is on the back of his neck, gently brushing the nape of his neck. He then pulls himself out of you and drops next to you. But he turns and wraps his arm around your body, pulling you in tight. You turn to face him, looking into his icy blue eyes. When you meet his eyes, both oh you can’t help but let out breathy laughs, utterly awed by the night’s events.