#Maggie twd

[darylslittlebitch]

twd characters showing their jealousy x fem!reader

characters: daryl, rick, negan, carl, glenn and maggie.

writer's note: jealousy hits different, huh? catch ya later with more drama! stay tuned! requests are open ;)

daryl

The last training session with Rick had ended, and although you were still no expert, at least you weren’t wasting as many bullets anymore.

"You’re getting better," Rick commented with a half-smile, crossing his arms as he watched you.

"I still have a lot to learn," you admitted, smiling humbly.

Rick nodded. "All in due time. The important thing is that now you can defend yourself better if you need to."

You thanked him before saying goodbye and walking back. But then you saw him.

Daryl was leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes, darkened under the shadow of his bangs, were silently watching you, but there was no need for him to speak for you to know what was going on.

You bit your lip, holding back a smile. Daryl would never admit he was jealous, and there was nothing more endearing than seeing him like this, struggling against his own emotions.

You approached him calmly, as if you hadn’t noticed his attitude. When you were close enough, you slid your hands softly over his chest, trying to relax the tension in his muscles.

"You’ve been avoiding me," you murmured with a touch of feigned drama, leaning in to look him in the eye.

Daryl huffed, looking away. "Don’t say stupid shit."

You let out a little laugh and rested your head against his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart. "I missed you."

He took a moment to react, but when he did, his arm slowly slid around your back, pulling you a little closer to him.

"I missed you too," he admitted quietly, as if it was hard for him to let those words out.

You smiled against his shirt. "So, what’s going on?"

Daryl sighed, running a hand over his face before finally looking at you.

"It’s nothing... It’s just that lately you’ve been spending more time with Rick."

There it was. He didn’t say it outright, but the intent was clear.

"Ohhh," you dragged the word out teasingly, bringing a finger to your lips in a thoughtful gesture. "Could it be that someone is... jealous?"

Daryl clicked his tongue and looked away. "Don’t say bullshit."

You chuckled softly, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before hugging him more tightly. "You know you don’t have to compete with anyone, right? My heart only knows your name."

He didn’t respond, but his grip on your waist tightened.

After a few seconds of silence, Daryl spoke with his usual rough tone, but softer than usual. "I wanted to see if you wanted to practice with the crossbow. And after... we could take the bike out for a ride. Like before."

Your smile widened, delighted by the idea. "That sounds perfect."

Daryl nodded, but before you could pull away, he leaned his head down and pressed his lips to your temple in a silent gesture of affection.

rick

The atmosphere in Alexandria grew tense every time Negan showed up with his group of Saviors, as if a dark storm settled over the community, absorbing all sense of security. And today was no exception.

Negan strolled through the area with his characteristic carefree gait, Lucille resting on his shoulder while his eyes scanned everyone with that mocking gaze that made Rick’s blood boil. But the worst part wasn’t the public humiliation, or even him stripping them of their supplies. The worst part was the way Negan spoke to you.

"Well, well, well… if it isn’t my favorite person in this entire damn community," Negan said with that cocky grin when he saw you. His eyes scanned you from head to toe without a hint of subtlety, as if he wanted Rick to notice exactly what he was doing. "How is it that every time I come around, you look even more goddamn gorgeous, huh?"

You didn’t flinch. You knew that any strong reaction would only give him more reasons to continue with his little game.

"It must be the walker blood; Eugene has this theory that it has surprisingly positive properties for the skin," you responded with a smirk that wasn’t quite a smile, your tone conveying pure coldness and indifference, but without making your displeasure too obvious.

Negan laughed that deep, mocking laugh that made all of Rick’s muscles tense.

"Shit, baby, why do you have to be so goddamn interesting? You know, I was thinking... how about you leave all this misery behind and come to the Sanctuary with me? You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. Food, security... and of course, my irresistible company."

You could feel Rick burning with anger from where he stood. His hands were clenched into fists, but he couldn’t do anything. Not without devastating consequences.

You kept your composure. "As generous as ever, Negan, but I don’t think my presence would be well received among your followers. And I don’t think you’d want to deal with the problems that would cause."

Negan tilted his head, amused. "Problems? Shit, baby! I love problems. And you’re exactly the kind of problem I’d like to have."

Rick let out a heavy breath but said nothing. He couldn’t. Negan glanced at him from the corner of his eye, enjoying the show.

"Well, sweetheart, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me." Negan winked at you before turning and heading back to his men.

The group of Saviors left, and the silence that followed was suffocating. Rick remained still, staring at the entrance as if he could still see Negan there.

"Rick," you called softly, but he didn’t respond.

Finally, he let out a long sigh and rubbed his hand across his beard in frustration.

"This is bullshit."

You stepped closer, gently touching his arm. "I know."

Rick clenched his jaw, his eyes meeting yours with an exhausted intensity. "I can’t do anything. I feel… useless. Not just as a leader, but… as a man. I can’t protect this community. I can’t protect you. And he knows it."

"Rick," you said firmly, placing both hands on his shoulders. "You don’t need to protect me from Negan. I know how to handle him. I don’t fall for his provocations, I don’t insult his ego, but I don’t give him what he wants either. He doesn’t scare me."

Rick lowered his head, but you didn’t let him sink further into his dark thoughts.

"Listen to me. You haven’t failed. You keep us alive. You give us hope. And I know it seems impossible right now, but we will find a way out of this."

He nodded, but there was still something in his gaze.

"I’m just worried that one day Negan will go from words to actions," he admitted quietly.

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Rick looked at you, frowning, clearly confused.

"What’s so funny?"

"If Negan tried anything more than words with me, I’ll make sure he’ll be without the balls he brags so much about."

Rick blinked, then let out a brief, tired laugh, but a genuine one.

"God, I love you," he murmured, and this time, when he hugged you, he did so with strength, as if in that moment he could regain some of the control Negan had been trying to take from him.

negan

It had been a long day at the Sanctuary. The supplies from the last expedition were still being organized, the workers kept their heads down as they went about their tasks, and you were right in the middle of it all, as always, making sure everything ran smoothly.

At some point in the afternoon, you ran into Dwight, who was supervising the Saviors working in the warehouse. You’d worked with him enough to know his less ruthless side, the one he tried to hide behind his façade of loyalty to Negan. Talking to him was easy, even though life at the Sanctuary was never easy.

So when you made a comment about how tired you were and Dwight, with a half-smile, joked about giving you a special break if it were up to him, you didn’t pay it much attention.

But someone did.

From across the hall, Negan had stopped, watching the interaction with a dark, dangerous look. He didn’t say anything at the time, but the air in the Sanctuary seemed to grow heavier. As soon as Dwight walked away, you noticed Negan was still there, his expression one that only meant trouble.

You ignored him for a while, pretending you hadn’t noticed his intense stare. But you knew he wasn’t going to let it slide that easily.

And you were right.

Later that night, when you returned to the room Negan had assigned you (which was really his room), as soon as you crossed the door, his voice greeted you with the same gravity he always used when he was holding something back.

"So, baby... care to tell me what the hell was that with Dwight boy?"

You turned on your heels, finding him standing by the table, one hand resting on the wooden surface, the other gripping his bat, Lucille. He wasn’t swinging it violently, but the mere fact that he had it in his hands said everything.

You frowned, crossing your arms. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Negan let out a brief, humorless laugh before slowly walking toward you. "Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. I saw it. I saw how he was looking at you, how he dared to joke with you like he had the goddamn right to do it." He leaned in slightly, his eyes burning with jealousy masked as mockery. "Tell me something... has Dwight forgotten his damn place?"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please, Negan. It was just a joke. It was nothing."

But Negan didn’t seem convinced.

"Nothing?" His voice dropped lower, almost a deep whisper. "Let me tell you something, baby... nothing is what’ll be left of Dwight if he keeps thinking he can even look at you like that. Because, and listen closely, sweetheart, you only belong to me. Got it?"

Your heart sped up, but not out of fear. There was something about the way Negan reacted, the intensity of his gaze, the way he spoke with that mix of threat and possession. It drove you crazy.

So you decided to play along.

"And what are you going to do about it, Negan?" you asked provocatively, stepping a little closer.

Negan's eyes gleamed with something dark, something primal. He leaned in until his face was mere inches from yours, his warm breath grazing your skin.

"I'm going to remind you," he whispered with a dangerous smile, "why no other son of a bitch can even dream of having you."

His hand grabbed your waist firmly, pulling you harshly toward him. His grip was dominant, demanding your attention, his body radiating heat, the tension between you both turning into a burning fire.

His mouth descended to your ear, his breath brushing your skin as he murmured in his raspy voice, "Tell me, sweetheart... do you like to provoke me?"

You didn’t respond immediately, just proceeded to lick the side of his face as you held his challenging gaze, enjoying how his self-control seemed to crack.

Negan let out a low, dangerous laugh, his long fingers touching the saliva on his skin. "Fuck… you’re a goddamn problem, did you know that?"

Before you could reply, his lips crashed against yours with a force that left you breathless. There was no softness in that kiss, only pure hunger, raw need, and possessiveness. His hands roamed over your back, gripping you as if he wanted to make sure you would never pull away.

He lifted you with ease, making you gasp against his mouth as he carried you to the bed.

"I’m going to make you forget Dwight’s fucking name," he growled against your skin, sliding his lips down your neck. "I’m going to make you think of nothing but me."

His mouth continued its descent, leaving burning marks on every spot it touched. His hands moved over your body with a mix of roughness and devotion, as if he were claiming every inch of you.

And in that moment, you knew Negan fully intended to keep his promise.

carl

Alexandria had always been a refuge for those who managed to reach its gates, but you never imagined that among the new survivors, you would find someone from your past.

Not just anyone. Your ex-boyfriend.

The initial shock was strong, but the apocalypse had already hardened you enough not to be swayed by past emotions. At the end of the day, survival was what mattered, and if he had made it this far, it meant he had something to offer. Rick and the others accepted him into the community after questioning him and making sure he wasn’t a threat.

Carl, however, didn’t say a word.

At first, you thought he simply didn’t care. Carl was like that—always quiet, always analyzing everything from the shadows with that sharp, calculating gaze he had inherited from his father. But as the days passed and you noticed his attitude toward you, you started to suspect there was something more.

Carl didn’t look at you the same way. He didn’t seek your company like before. And when you were with the others, you could feel his presence behind you—always watching, always distant.

But you really noticed it when you were with your ex.

He had adapted quickly, helping where he could and always finding an excuse to spend time with you. It wasn’t surprising—you had shared a history before the world collapsed. You talked about the past, about moments you had almost forgotten. And even though you no longer felt the same way about him, it was a nice reminder that not everything had always been shit.

But Carl didn’t see it that way.

You realized it one afternoon when you were sitting on the porch steps, talking with your ex about old times. You laughed at something he said and, when you looked up, you saw Carl leaning against a wall not far away.

His gaze was dark, cold.

He didn’t do anything, didn’t interrupt, didn’t even try to approach. But the message was clear.

He didn’t like it.

That night, after everyone had gone to rest, you decided to look for him. You found him in the watchtower, standing with his rifle in hand, watching the horizon.

"Are you going to keep acting like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what’s wrong?"

Carl didn’t even turn to look at you. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

You climbed the steps and stood beside him, crossing your arms. "Yes, you do. You’ve been acting weird ever since he arrived."

Silence.

Carl clenched his jaw and looked away.

"I don’t trust him," he finally muttered.

You rolled your eyes. "Rick already questioned him. He’s not a threat."

"I don’t mean that," he said, and this time, he did look at you. His eyes were dark, intense. "I mean you."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you hid it well.

Carl set his rifle aside and ran a hand through his hair. "I don’t get why you keep spending so much time with him. He’s your ex."

You looked at him, now fully understanding what was going on.

Carl had hurt you with his silence these past few days because he was jealous.

You bit your lip to keep from smiling. It was strange, but seeing him like this—so serious, so tense… you liked it.

"Carl?"

"What?"

You leaned in slightly. "Are you jealous?"

His expression didn’t change, but you noticed the way his throat moved when he swallowed.

"No."

You couldn’t help but laugh. "God, Carl, you are. You’re completely jealous."

This time, he turned his whole body toward you, frowning. "I’m not jealous. I just think it’s a complete waste of time to talk to someone who clearly only wants one thing from you."

You crossed your arms, enjoying this more with every word he said. "And what exactly does he want from me?"

Carl didn’t answer right away.

Then, in a completely unexpected move, he took a step toward you, closing the distance between you both.

"He wants what’s mine."

The air caught in your throat.

Carl didn’t look away. He stayed silent, waiting for a response, waiting for you to contradict him. But you didn’t.

Because at that moment, you understood something very clearly.

Carl Grimes didn’t fight with empty words. Carl claimed what was his.

And you couldn’t agree more that you were completely his.

glenn

You were focused on cleaning the wound on Abraham’s arm. He had been shot during the last supply run. It wasn’t serious, but it still needed attention.

Glenn was beside you, handing you the medical supplies while you did the more delicate work. It had always been like that with him—teamwork, a perfect sync.

Abraham, on the other hand, seemed more entertained by something else. Or rather, by you.

"You know, doll, if all nurses were as pretty as you, I might just let myself get shot more often."

You let out a small laugh and shook your head, not taking the comment seriously. "That sounds like a terrible survival strategy."

Abraham smirked with his usual carefree air. "Maybe, but if you’re the one patching me up, it doesn’t sound too bad."

Glenn didn’t say anything, but you noticed his hand tense slightly as he passed you another gauze.

"Stop moving," you said, focusing back on the wound.

"Only if you give me a good luck kiss," Abraham insisted, his smirk widening.

This time, you let out a chuckle and playfully smacked his shoulder. "In your dreams, Ford."

Abraham laughed too and finally let you work, though not without tossing another remark your way. "If you ever get tired of this cute Asian guy over here, I can be your new assistant."

Glenn didn’t react at all. He simply kept his gaze fixed on his task, helping you bandage the wound in complete silence.

Once you were done, Abraham stood up with a smug grin and gave you a wink before leaving.

And that’s when you felt it.

The silence around Glenn was too heavy.

You finished putting the supplies away and, without turning around, spoke in a calm voice. "Don’t get weird on me."

Glenn let out a dry chuckle. "I’m not weird."

Now you did turn to face him, crossing your arms. "Yes, you are. You’ve barely said a word since Abraham walked in."

Glenn sighed and ran a hand through his hair, still avoiding your eyes. "It’s nothing."

You frowned and took a step closer. "Glenn."

His jaw tightened, and finally, he lifted his gaze. His dark eyes were filled with something you hadn’t seen in him before—frustration.

"It’s just that… I can’t do anything about it."

You blinked. "What do you mean?"

Glenn clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, unconsciously mirroring your stance. "I mean, I can’t tell him to shut up. I can’t tell him to stop flirting with you because, to everyone else, there’s no reason for me to. Because no one knows about us."

Oh.

You let down your guard a little and sighed. "Glenn…"

"And I know you take it as a joke," he continued, his voice a bit lower now. "I know Abraham is just being Abraham, and that it doesn’t really mean anything. But damn, do you know what it’s like to stand there, listening to it all, seeing the way he looks at you, and not being able to do anything? Not being able to say, ‘She’s mine, so back the hell off, you redheaded superiority-complex case’?"

You bit your lip, because you understood his point.

You had never really talked about making it official, about telling the others about your relationship. Not because you wanted to keep it a secret, but because… you had just never felt the need to announce it.

But Glenn did.

And that made you think.

"Are you dying of jealousy, Rhee?" you asked playfully, stepping a little closer.

He rolled his eyes. "It’s not funny."

"It’s a little funny," you teased, leaning slightly toward him. "I like seeing you like this."

Glenn narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn’t."

"But I do."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension in the air felt different—less heavy, but still very much there. Glenn stared at you, evaluating you, as if debating something in his mind.

And then, without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him in one swift motion.

"Alright," he murmured against your lips. "Since you don’t seem to have a problem with it, then tomorrow everyone is going to know about us."

And then, he kissed you.

maggie

You had spent most of the day helping with the harvest, and after finishing, you decided to stay in the improvised library that Jesus had set up with the books he managed to recover during his expeditions. It had become a routine between the two of you: you would pick a book, and he would recommend another one he thought you might like. It was a quiet dynamic, with no pressure—a way to escape, even if just a little, from the harsh reality of the world you lived in.

But when Maggie arrived at Hilltop that afternoon, bringing supplies from Alexandria, you immediately noticed that something was… off.

She wasn’t exactly ignoring you, but there was a dryness in her voice, a hardness in her expression whenever she spoke to you.

“What have you been up to around here?” she asked while unloading the supply crates alongside Enid.

“The usual,” you replied with a smile, wiping your hands on your pants. “Helping with the harvest and… well, Jesus has been lending me some books. I’ve been staying up late reading them.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow, her gaze briefly shifting toward where Jesus stood on the other side of the camp, supervising the food distribution.

“Books, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, still unaware of the tension in her voice. “He’s got a great collection. It’s rare to find someone who values books so much these days.”

Maggie crossed her arms and leaned against the nearest table. “Well, how considerate of him.”

You blinked at her tone. “Maggie… are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she answered without hesitation.

A lie.

You tried to read her expression, but Maggie was good at hiding her emotions when she wanted to. Still, there was a stiffness in her shoulders, a lack of warmth in her gaze that told you something was definitely off.

You tried to lighten the mood with a playful smile. “Well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous.”

Maggie clicked her tongue and looked away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

But there it was.

A confirmation disguised as denial.

You decided to push her just a little more, just to see how far she’d go.

“Because if you were,” you continued casually, “it would be adorable.”

Her eyes snapped back to you immediately, this time flashing with a warning. “Don’t play with me.”

You chuckled softly. “Who’s playing? I like seeing Maggie Greene with that look on her face.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed a crate, using it as an excuse to keep her hands busy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” you insisted, following her as she tried to ignore you. “You’ve been acting weird with me since you got here. Colder, more… distant.”

Maggie set the crate down with more force than necessary. “I’m not acting weird. I just find it surprising how close you’ve gotten to Jesus lately.”

You smirked. “Maggie.”

“What?”

“Admit it.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tightening.

“Admit it, and I’ll leave you alone,” you added, leaning in slightly, amusement dancing in your eyes.

Maggie held your gaze for a few seconds, then let out a heavy sigh, finally giving in. “Fine.”

“Fine what?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Maybe… just a little.”

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh. “A little what?”

She exhaled in frustration and muttered, almost through gritted teeth, “Maybe I’m a little bit jealous.”

You took her hands gently, making her look at you. “You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Jesus is my friend. You’re the only one who matters to me that way.”

Maggie watched you in silence, as if trying to decide whether to believe your words. Finally, her lips curved into a small smile.

“You better mean that,” she said, her tone still carrying a hint of wounded pride.

You kissed her cheek, noticing how her shoulders finally relaxed. “I love you.”

And even if she didn’t say it out loud, you knew that the next time you came to Hilltop, Maggie would make sure Jesus knew exactly where he stood.

[wimsypisces]

i need to rewatch twd just to feel something

[catnteawrites]

*the first night in alexandria*

Rosita and Abraham: *heavy breathing*

Y/N and Daryl: *kissing sounds*

Maggie and Glenn: *chuckles and giggling*

Rick: "WHEN DID THIS BECOME A WHORE HOUSE???"

[florashifting]

Guys they're literally my parents

[francisofthespook]

I made some of these tweets as twd characters inspired by @oatm3al-c00kies !! ( but theirs are way funnier !!) these were so fun to make tho 🤭

[scatorcciosrhee]

- your favorite character is maggie rhee🏹

(i know im mainly a yellowjackets blog but i wanted to do some twd)

[ashiitaki]

All done, this took forever lmao

[grimesrhees]

Good Luck, Babe.

pairing: maggie greene/rhee x fem!reader

genre: angst, mostly.

warnings: mentions of intimacy & alcohol

notes: I rarely write so please enjoy my own self indulgent attempt at it solely for my queen Maggie<3 (this also took me forever, thanks adhd😅)

summary: based on Chappell Roan's song Good Luck, Babe! Set (mostly) before the zombie apocalypse, Maggie struggles with her feelings towards other women. reader gets caught in between, falling for her knowing Maggie isn't ready to accept herself yet.

-Pre-Zombie Apocalypse-

How the hell did I get here again?

You thought to yourself as you lay sweaty and tingly all over, staring into the void of the dark ceiling above. You knew exactly how you got here, in bed with Maggie Greene, yet again. All she had to do was bat those eyelashes your way and use that sweet southern drawl and you were a goner. Ever since you started getting to know each other at the beginning of the semester 6 months ago, you wanted to show her all the ways you could make her feel good. But from the start you were aware that this was experimentation for Maggie, being with another woman. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was attracted to women along with men. There were many occasions she’d drunkenly called or text you to come pick her up after one too many shots at the bar, only for you to walk in and find her making out with yet another man. But you always came anyway. Because even through the heart ache of this situationship, you couldn’t help but to start falling for Maggie. She was so smart and kind, gentle but fierce all the same, when she wasn’t being a stubborn bull in denial over the two of you.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you turned to face the soft, bare back of Maggie’s. All those days in the hot Georgia sun on her daddy’s farm had her shoulders and back peppered with freckles. You tried to take in every inch of her while you slowly drew your fingertips up and down along her spine. Maggie hummed sleepily at your touch, and you could feel you heart swell and break into pieces at the same time. You didn’t think you could take this, whatever this was between you and her, much longer.

You woke up early the next morning, way before Maggie, and decided to take a quick shower and brew some coffee. You poured two cups, set them both down on the small table and sat. After wrestling back and forth with your thoughts last night, before you mercifully fell asleep, you decided that it was best to talk to Maggie about what was going on between you two. You sipped the hot coffee slowly and stared into the black liquid abyss in front of you until you heard the small creaks of the floorboard.

Maggie’s figure appeared, wearing nothing but an oversized flannel shirt and a pair of lacey underwear. Her hair, completely disheveled from the passion of the night before. You couldn’t help your heart from fluttering at the sight. She leaned against the door frame and flashed you that winning, toothy smile of hers, signature lip bite and all. It quickly fell when she noticed the sad look on your face as you looked up from your coffee.

“Darlin’ why the sad face, what’s got you down this mornin’?” Maggie cooed in that sweet southern drawl of hers.

“After last night I cain’t have nothin’ but a smile on my face.”

You took a deep breath and looked up into Maggie’s big green eyes.

“Mags, what are we doing? Why do we keep doing this to ourselves? What are we?”

You prepped for the inevitable response you were going to get.

Maggie let out a huff and folded her arms across her chest.

“Whatta ya mean ‘what are we doin’ and ‘what are we’? We’re havin’ fun, it’s just casual sex y/n. We’re not anything but that…” she trailed off, almost as if she was convincing herself at the same time as the words were coming out of her mouth.

God she was so fucking stubborn.

You looked away from her and felt your eyes stinging with inescapable tears. Keeping those tears from falling would take everything in you, so you set your coffee down and started to get up from the table.

“Wait, y/n I didn’t mean it quite like that, you know how much I care about you," she shifted her body up straight,

"But this is just the way it is I can’t-"

You stopped her before she could finish.

“I know that this,” you motioned your pointer finger back and forth between the two of you, “is more than “nothing”, more than just “casual” sex. You know that I love you, Maggie.”

Maggie’s mouth went agape for a brief moment before it snapped shut, her jaw tightening and brows furrowing. A mix of emotions flashed across her face, fear, frustration and sadness. She couldn’t will herself to say anything back to you, so you continued on.

“Y'know what, it’s fine. It's cool. You can kiss a hundred guys in bars, shoot shot after shot just to try and stop you from feeling what you know is true about yourself. Make all the excuses , give me all the stupid reasons, but I won’t be here for them. I can’t do this anymore.”

You stood quickly and snatched your bag off the back of your chair, walking over to Maggie and getting only inches away from her face. Even having just woken up she was exceptionally beautiful, and her scent was something you could get drunk off of. You had ripped the band aid almost all off, you had to control yourself, had to end this now, even though almost every ounce of your body was tempted to push her up against the wall and kiss her until you were both breathless and gasping for air.

“This isn’t something you can just hide from forever, Maggie Greene. And you will think about this, years from now, until maybe you finally fucking realize that. Face to face with my ‘I told you so,’ and a longing for what could have been.”

Maggie continued to just stare at you but with tears now brimming in her eyes, still too stubborn to respond to any of your words. Her eyes fell to your feet until you brushed past her and towards the front door. While reaching for the doorknob you turned and looked back at Maggie, tears already steadily rolling down your cheeks.

“Good luck, babe,” you managed to choke out before swiftly opening the door and closing it behind you with a thud.

-Some months into the Zombie Apocalypse-

Flashes of different images and sensations danced across her mind.

The wind whooshing through her hair as her arms stretched out through the car sun roof.

An arching back and the feeling of sweat rolling down her chest, in a state of complete pleasure. Soft moans and wet kisses.

Giggles rang in and out but soon faded into silence.

Your tear-stained face looking back at her, "I told you so," echoing loudly, and the slamming of a door. Suddenly a mirror appeared and only her heartbroken face was staring back at her.

Maggie awoke with a small gasp and sat straight up in her bed. She took a minute to steady her breathing while trying to recollect the dream she just had. Next to her she heard Glenn let out a sleepy sigh and shift in his sleep. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and put her head in her hands. The world ended and you were right, she couldn't hide the truth from herself forever. She had loved you, completely. Always did. Maggie laid her head back on her pillow, breathing a sigh of relief, finally allowing herself some acceptance.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Keep this dog asleep

(made a minor title change, y'all XD)

When -- an hour or so after the joint meal between the group and the Greenes, as seen in S02 episode Chupacabra and Slowpoke chapter Penance + (knock-off) Ambrosia.

What -- you and Glenn now know the secret about the barn. But what are you supposed to do with it??

Who -- Glenn, Maggie, Reader

Relationships -- the Slowpoke Series is a slow Daryl x Reader

TWs -- stressful situations, continuation of Shane Walsh's descent

Pronouns -- nonexistant

Perspective -- 2nd person (you)

Length -- ~3,000 words

Masterlist -- Official one here and Chronological one here

There were clues, but you didn’t piece them together. Who on earth could have pieced together that puzzle?

How Beth got unusually loud and looked scared when telling you that the barn was unsafe and not to go near it. The strange, pained bird cries, what sounded like chickens to you, that twice had woken you up in the early morning since you’d been here. The way the Greenes were upset that you and yours had put down walkers. How they always referred to them as “sick,” the way you once did before you understood that no, they were corpses. They’d died.

Ugh, speaking of, you feel like you’re going to get sick again. Glenn lost some of his supper, too. Such a waste after that delicious, fresh meal…

The secret came out because Maggie had needed your help. That’s all she’d said as she grabbed your hand and ran outside with you in the dark, in the direction of the barn, the one they said was unsafe to go near.

You’d asked no questions, you only ran; she’d looked so frightened, so terrified.

When you two were sprinting past the tractor, she panted in partial explanation that Glenn was in trouble, and you ran all the faster.

With a panicked “not there!” she’d pulled you away when she saw you reaching the chained, barred front doors, quickly leading you around to the ladder for the hayloft and clambering up first.

Right at the top was Glenn, who looked fine (?). He was even on his way down by the looks of it, as you zipped up behind Maggie.

But it was the smell that hit you first.

The smell was usually the first thing you noticed when they were close, not the sounds, which are what registered next. Only after this did you finally see them, in the backlit glow of Glenn’s flashlight, their shadows moving in the lower barn.

For that first unreal moment when you’d all came together, the secret uncovered, the three of you froze.

Maggie’s words to Glenn hung in the air. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”

Well, he did see it, as did you.

And so did they, the dead. They saw you three, standing up there in the hayloft. And they grew louder. Staggered closer, arms lifted even if they could never reach you.

When you found your wits, you pulled Glenn toward the exit, slowly and cautiously, eyes glued to Maggie.

Glenn hadn’t snapped out of the shock just then, he just stared at her and asked, “Why are they in here?”

“It’s not what you think!” she pleaded, but it didn’t matter to you in that moment. What was important was getting Glenn out.

“What I think is th-there are dead people in your barn, Margaret,” you trembled back. No thoughts resounded louder than that one, that one and the instinct grab Glenn and run.

He repeated, “Maggie?”

“We need to get out first, then I’ll explain!” she urged under her breath, and took over guiding him to the ladder after she gently pressed your shoulders so you’d head down first.

When all three of you were out and away, you kept looking back at the chained barn doors. As nippy as it was, the air felt thick and close, and the night seemed too quiet.

Maggie touched your arm. You drew back and pressed closer to Glenn. That your hand neared your pocketknife wasn’t meant to be intimidating, or maybe, it was? You were scared, and uncertain if you’d need to defend yourself or your friend. Well, Glenn, you mean. You’d thought Maggie was trustworthy, too, and a friend. But in that moment, you were wary.

“They can’t break it down, it’s barred and locked shut,” she whispered to you.

“Why are they in there? Wh-why ain’t you buried them?”

“So they’ll be safe unt—”

“So ‘they’ll’ be safe?” Glenn cut in. His face was shining with sweat despite the chill. He looked ill.

Maggie stood up straighter and spoke firmly, yet in a soft voice. “Until a cure is found.”

Your defenses began standing down. The memory of your argument a week ago with Patricia sprang into your head. How she called them “sick” and seemed horrified and disgusted that you’d laid some to rest. This little revelation, that the family is keeping dead in their barn, made it click.

But now, you’re the horrified and disgusted one, even if you’ve put together that they must be doing it in the hopes there will be a cure.

Except…all those in that barn had died. They were dead. The virus (or whatever the sickness is) overtakes corpses after an infected person has died, it does not take over living souls. Was it possible that this family hadn’t yet seen and heard enough to understand?

Your anger started to roil. Either way you spun it, the manner in which the Greene’s were offering the dead a measure of reverence was misguided and dangerous and they were desecrating those corpses by letting them walk!.

“Margaret,” you said gently. “They died. That’s how th—”

“—They’re sick.”

Less gentle. “They’re dead. That can’t be cured.”

“Dead people don’t walk or eat,” she challenged back.

“What—are you feedin’ them, then?” shot from your lips right as Glenn suddenly moaned, “Guys, I’m gonna barf,” and there he went.

At the same time, the memory of the repeated, pained bird noises in the early morning popped into your head. Your mind went to the chickens, and how Carl mentioned one of the mother hens wasn’t with the chicks anymore. You’d chalked it up to the hen simply losing her broodiness, or because the chicks had feathered out a fair amount and so it was time. But the more those noises cried out through your memory…

And Maggie had made no denial.

The connection slid into place: they are feeding them.

Glenn and you must have been quite the sight, both retching on the lawn.

Maggie ran a hand through her hair and hugged herself with the other, looking around as if she didn’t know what to do or where to go next.

Not knowing what to do yourself, you started walking. Ended up making toward the stump in the far field. Maggie and Glenn went, too.

Nausea aside, your chest felt tight, as if you needed to use your inhaler. You rested your hands on your hips and hinged slightly forward so you could breathe more deeply, stopped walking, and trained your eyes once more on those barn doors.

They’re feeding them. Feeding dead bodies.

Feeding dangerous, walking, biting corpses.

“The doors are strong, and they’re latched and chained.”

“Because you’ve got dead people in your barn,” you exhaled.

Glenn clutched your elbow. “Y/N, what are we gonna do?”

Put them down ourselves quietly, you didn’t blurt out.

“There’s no need to do anythin’. They’re secure, nobody’s in danger,” Maggie stressed. “Please, don’t tell the others, they won’t understand!”

That’s when a sudden, new sort of panic kicked in. Shane. “Glenn, don’t let Shane know!” The weight of another secret kept from him dropped onto your shoulders along with the sting of knowing that in your friends’ eyes, having reacted like that was another strike against him. And yet: “Don’t tell Shane, w-which means not Rick, neither, not yet.”

“Y/N—”

“—Glenny, for me. Please. Avoid him if-if-if you have to, I know how hard secrets are for you,” you tumbled through, stress stutter peeking in. Some surprise tears, too. “I love that you’re so honest but this, b-but but this is somethin’ you can’t let him know!”

“Okay!” he relented. “Okay. We can, um,” and no words followed.

After mumbling a request for some mouthwash, Maggie brought you and Glenn inside briefly to the house to use the downstairs bathroom, after which you three ended up on the porch.

There you three sat without talking, and drank sweetened, cold milk with postum and leftover hot cocoa mix while you and Glenn stared at the barn.

“What were you doin’ in there, Glenn?” you thought to ask. “With a blanket, I mean, hay lofts usually got mice in ‘em." And spiders. "Were you gonna have a," you were at a loss for an idea, "a picnic?”

“Um…”

“Glenn wrote me to meet him there,” Maggie answered for him, calm and careful.

You tried putting more pieces together and puzzled that Glenn might've planned some sort of, what, a date up there? Weird spot for a date. Then you wondered about the details, and if your figuring it was a 'picnic date' was euphemistically PG…

“I didn’t tell you how it was off limits?” is all you voiced aloud. Beth had told you and Andrea to stay away from the barn, citing it wasn't safe, but did you not let the others know?

Could all of this have been avoided?

Nothing else was discussed. When the milk was drunk up, fresh peaches were placed in your hands.

Maggie needlessly adjusted the wrapping on your tied arm and made sure it felt comfortable and not too tight. You let her, and continued to stare at the barn.

When the peaches were eaten, they were replaced with a second, then a third. Maggie then stepped out briefly but came back quickly.

When the third peaches were eaten, what took their places were teacups filled with—oh, a substance you didn’t think was allowed in the household. And the cups were given so soon after both you and Glenn tossed the peach pits that you concluded Maggie was only waiting for your hands to be free.

She must have noted your surprise at there being alcohol in the home. “Daddy’s gone to bed. Everyone has, it seems.”

“Except us?” Glenn figured.

“I imagine.”

He hadn’t yet taken his eyes from the barn to look into the cup that he raised blindly to his lips. Glenn’s drink looked like wine, but yours looked thinner and smelled different. “How can we sleep?” he worried.

It was already in his mouth when Maggie replied, tired, “Here’s hopin’ the wine helps.”

The visible way Glenn’s reaction changed at least four times when he realized it was wine in his mouth (ie: the stuff he’d gotten a very, very bad hangover from) dissolved the tension like magic and left you giggling like a schoolgirl, Maggie joining in once she realized it was okay to do so.

First it was his look of confusion, then of horror, then embarrassment, then this determined sort of look that ended with him swallowing most of the wine, barring the bit that dribbled from his lips.

“She’s plying us with food and alcohol, Y/N,” he muttered, mainly joking. But also not.

You took a sip from your own cup. Definitely less strong than wine, probably even less than beer. “Worse things to get plied with than peaches. We should demand more fruit. Maybe some jerky,” you tried to make light, anything to help that moment not feel so smothering and uncertain. “My drink is different than yours, less strong.” Tasted tropical-ly.

“Glenn got the mini bottle of wine I’ve had saved since February. Wedding favor. Figured he’d earned something stronger,” Maggie explained. “I know you don’t drink much, so you and me are splittin’ a Seagrams.”

Oh, you’d tried those before. “Thank you.”

She lifted a corner of her mouth. “I reckoned us three could use help to calm down."

Glenn’s tension hadn’t eased up as much as yours, but he appeared to relax some when you offered him a taste of your own drink. After doing so, he switched his cup with yours and drained it in one go. “I’m guessing Y/N never told you how bad my hangover was after getting drunk on wine?”

The story of that night at the CDC, with the sad parts skimmed over, made for (very short story and) an end to the night.

Maggie went to bed, apparently trusting you two to not spill the beans.

Glenn and you went back at the campsite. And because sleep was/is far away, you’re both still sitting at the fire pit. Staring at the barn.

It’s late.

Really late. 'Early' might be more accurate.

“Y/N, what are we gonna do?”

Your decisiveness doesn’t shame you as much as, perhaps, it ought. Doesn’t shame you much at all, in fact. Because for one option, there’s the risk of danger and death, but, possibly, if things continue as they have been, possibly nothing at all.

As the other option…all you foresee is guaranteed fire, chaos, and upheaval. Guaranteed. And that is more dangerous.

“They’ve been in there for months,” you whisper. “What’s another couple of weeks?”

“—Weeks?”

You wince at the condemnation in his tone and hold up your finger to remind him to keep his voice soft. What if Shane hears? “A week at least. W-we can’t stir the pot right now.”

“Dude. At least T-Dog, Dale, Andrea and me are in the RV, but you guys? The rest of you are in tents.That’s not safe!” He squints at you, driving it on home. “Lori is in a tent.” Which means baby is, too.

Again you wince, and turn your head away.

“And starting tomorrow, Carl will be, too. And Daryl, like,” he adds. “The two of them are still recovering. Like…” He tugs on his baseball cap. “How fast do you think they could run, if we all had to?”

“We ain’t gonna have to,” you finally clap back. Well, as much as one can when limited to whispering. “They’ve been in there since the start of this, and, and those doors, th-those walls, ain’t suddenly gonna break.”

“I want to tell Dale. He’ll have some kind of wise advice or, or know what to do. And he’ll talk sense into you—”

That little comment there makes you lick your teeth and switch to playing offense.

It comes out pretty mean and belittling, how you say it, but mostly what you feel as you say it is frightened and out of your depth. “You either spill now, and cause somethin’ bad to happen, and it will be bad, trust me on that. Or," you nearly snarl, "all you need to do is just keep quiet awhile.”

Frightened and out of your depth, you also feel like trash now. “At least until Sophia is found,” you throw out there, too, wishing you believed that sweet girl would be found alive. But any kind of ‘found’ would at least offer closure.

“Do you still think she’s even…” Glenn starts to ask, but trails off.

Zapped of all energy and now having almost fought with each other, which hasn't really happened yet, you two stare beyond the dwindling fire and at that stupid, creepy, awful barn.

You don’t even know how to pray right now. But that idea makes you consider what you could do: a sort of confession.

“No,” you softly fess up. There were too many secrets lately, they’re making you feel sick and angry. And Glenn hates secrets. Maybe this secret, the one in that barn, needs to stay a secret for now, but everything else would seem clearer with fewer secrets and white lies mucking the waters. “I hope, and, a-and I want her to be. To be okay. But I don’t think our poor girl is no more.”

“I don't, either,” he chokes out, his whisper heavy and full in trying to keep his composure.

Your own tears stay in, either because you’re too tired or too numbed. Glenn lets a few stifled sobs free while you slowly rub circles along his upper back. You offer him your water bottle.

“And this is all because—I was so stupidly excited to get, what? Laid again? Y/N, look at the mess it made!”

The toes of your sneakers are grass-stained and scuffed. “They would’ve been in there,” you murmur, lifting your gaze back to the barn, “whether or not you found them tonight. Hey, I'm sorry my tone got real cruel there a minute ago.”

He wipes his eyes with his hands before hiding his face with them. “It's okay, we're cool." He sniffs and lets out a deep breath. "This is that phrase ‘let sleeping dogs lie.’”

You’d heard the phrase before, but only in passing. The first time you heard it, you’d thought it meant dogs not telling the truth (as if an animal could lie?), a memory which would make you smile in a different circumstance. “Not waking up something might would attack and bite?” you muse without much humor in it.

“Yeah.”

Would that make your brother the threatening dog? A cold feeling shoots through your belly again, watering the dread that has been blossoming in your gut. Because Shane is.

But Andrea and T-Dog would react strongly, too, if they found out. Rick would hear out the Greene’s, he’s good like that. But Dale would side with the former, and he’s the voice of reason. Lori would support Rick, she always does, however, would counsel him to do whatever it took to keep Carl safe, which again, would be putting the walkers down. It would always go back to putting them down.

So you'd have to get through to Mr. Greene how they’re dead, their souls have moved on, there’s no immorality or evil in the action. What’s immoral is to leave them walking and—no, no, this cannot get out yet.

Not yet. If the news about the baby and this came at the same time, Shane would—no. Not yet. This secret has to stay secret. This sleeping dog has got to stay asleep.

“What are you worried will happen if we tell the others?”

“Bad reactions from, from our group,” you start. You start to grow louder than a whisper, but can’t seem to quiet down. “Gettin’ thrown off the farm, and, and, and kickback from our people if that happens, a-a power struggle, you name it. It won’t go good.”

The day Daryl almost died leaps through your mind. You rub your chest remembering the strange, insistent tugging and the sheer pain that ripped through it when you thought he'd been shot. The same place you have a physical bruise now from Shane...

“Do you remember how Andrea near killed Daryl when she thought he was a walker?" you ask Glenn. "That was even after we’d — Ricky and me — we’d told her in, in front of Dale, to stop, wait for us to get Mr. Greene. And we’d told Shane to stop. In front of T-Dog and you,” you make sure to include, “and y’all still ran for him, ready to bash his head in.”

Even in the dark, his cheeks visibly flush. Glenn bows his head.

“Glenn, I love you like family, and I ain't exaggerating when I say that, and I ain’t saying this to insult you. It’s just…” You know you’ve convinced him, but to be certain, you repeat it clearly if softly. “Our group can’t handle knowin’ about that barn right now.”

He pulls his cap off and runs his fingers along his scalp. Nods. “I actually agree with you." He blinks at the barn and takes a deep breath in. "Y/N, I hate this.”

“Me, too,” you hush. You've just come to a conclusion, something you never would have thought you'd consider doing. You hate it. But you know in your heart you have to. It's for everyone's good.

“I’m glad someone else knows this secret, at least," Glenn then tells you. "I’m really glad it’s you.”

The words sink straight into your being and you are unable to respond.

Because you just decided that, for everyone’s sake, Shane and you need to leave the group.

------------------------------------------

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[zombiewhor3]

IMMUNE

female reader x season 2 twd group

WARNINGS: shane, mentions of walker bite, gorey descriptions, gorey and violent scenes, mature language.

A/N: this is one of the worst things i've ever written but i really wanted to use this idea before i forgot about it so oh well!

-

dropping some more wood into the fire she could feel the eyes lingering on her she had been with them for a few months and yet they still watched her like a hawk.

they stalked her every move, it was like every breath she took was being analyzed by the group. she placed a seat on a stump in front of the fire using it to heat her hands and with a soft sigh she looked at the infamous sheriff who was buttoning up his shirt.

his eyes focused on her hoping that she wouldn't plot a move on them, she had been off. Something about the way she never spoke, the only word they had gotten out of her was a simple whisper to alert them of a walker, after that was pure silence.

he noticed the way she hadn't feared the walkers, not even a glimmer of fear in her eye struck when they ran into a giant hoarde.

"y/n, gather your stuff before we head to the well" rick spoke gently, she could see him gesture her out of the corner of her eye.

standing up and gathering a pair of pants and shirt from her tent she followed the group to the well, lifting the bucket and using a washboard that Maggie gifted them to scrub her clothes.

she stayed farther away from the group, right on the small hill where Daryl was perched using his knife to cut up an apple. "i don't i've ever seen ya take that jacket off" he muttered before popping a piece of the fresh fruit in his mouth.

continuing to scrub her clothes and looking down at the dirt that came off of them she spoke, "it was a gift" he chuckled a little before cutting off another piece of the apple and passing her the last piece.

placing it into her mouth she chewed as she hung up her clothes to dry against the tree, resting the washboard against its trunk before sitting back down.

"one thing about this group is we don't trust easy, don't take it personal kiddo" flipping the blade away and tossing the core he could feel her eyes digging into him.

"yeah well i don't trust some of em either" her tone was bitter,

"and ya think i do?" he replied taking the crossbow off of his shoulder and resting it down on the ground.

"they watch my every move, they trust Maggie more than me and i've known them longer" she stood up and brushed off her pants,

he could see that there were holes all throughout the back, the denim torn in certain places all covered in dirt and practically begging for it to be cleaned.

"why don't ya wash the jacket? we still have water left"

she shook her head no at him before grabbing the washboard and heading back to the main camp area. Why did it matter so much that she didn't want to take her damn jacket off?

-

dinner was always filled with laughter, pots being passed around, stories were told around the camp fire. she usually sat in her tent to eat alone or she sat away from the groups eyes.

now sitting on a stump beside Daryl with a plate in her hand she hadn't felt as isolated, she hadn't felt as alone. Even if she didn't trust a few of the men sitting across from her.

she took a beer that rick offered her, twisting off the cap she took a sip as she rolled up her sleeves to try and escape some of the heat the fire was giving off.

she listened to the stories they told, all about their jobs, families and their lives before the apocalypse, clearing her throat she spoke up,

"before this whole dead virus thing came about i used to be majoring in chemical science so i guess that went out the window" she could hear the group around her laugh and Glenn began to pipe up his own story.

"i was a pizza driver and i was majoring in economics, and now since there's no money involved with whats left of the world id say it was not handy" she gave off a soft smile,

everyone seemed to loosen up now, except for Shane. Though he hadn't trusted anybody, he didn't even trust Daryl even after he saved his life on multiple occasions.

his dark eyes were burning into her skin, burning into the rolled up sleeve but to busy drinking her beer and continuing her conversation she hadn't even noticed he stood up from his seat.

pulling her up from her seat he stripped her off the denim jacket while holding her forearm into the air causing a mutter of confusion amongst the group.

a scar was imprinted into her skin, a part of her flesh was missing where skin had grown back over it already leaving it a shade of pink and red going against her natural skin tone. "shane get the hell off me" she bittered trying to swing away from his grasp.

everyone else had gotten up to look at her arm, she swallowed harshly feeling his grip tighten while she felt like everyone was poking and prodding at her with their beady eyes.

"it's a dog bite, it happened when i was a teenager now will you let the hell go of me" she rattled against his hand but still with his tight grasp it was almost no use to push against him.

"these are human teeth, not even a human bite scar would be this color, you've been bit" she could hear people gasp as he came to his shitty but true conclusion, she had been bit but she wasn't like the others, she didn't turn.

looking over to Daryl she let out a plea, "it's not what it looks like i promise you i can explain all of this" Daryl could feel his hand on Shane's shoulder now as he practically pried his grasp from her.

sitting on the opposite side away from everybody shane's gun remained pointed at her chest, ready to pull the trigger whenever she turned into the monster that bit her.

"this mark is two years old, i got it at the beginning i was just a dumb teenager and i made a stupid decision" she sighed while finally slipping off her denim jacket and resting it beside her.

"no way you would've turned by now" someone muttered from the group watching her eyes flick up at them, "don't you get it, i can't turn something about this virus doesn't affect me".

-

looking at the straggling walker before them she repeated back Shane's words with an utter disgust,

"i'm sorry you want me to let another walker bite me to prove i'm really immune? you're god damn crazy you know that"

pulling out her knife she braced her self for the pain of something that was going to tear through more flesh on her arm, reaching her arm out she let out a piercing scream as it bit down on her flesh,

its teeth sinking into her enough to pull a little chunk of her arm out, as tears flooded her eyes she used her other arm to take the walker out as she ripped away from the grasp of its teeth.

he tossed a piece of cloth at her before making his way up to camp, with a subtle sob in the depth of the night she wrapped her wound and trailed just far enough behind him.

blood soaked through the cloth, dying over the cotton white to turn it into a shade of near death, finally stumbling back into camp she sat around the fire keeping her best to stay silent.

he stared at her through the flames of the fire just as strong as her loathe for him right now,

"does this prove your point now asshole?" she retorted back before wincing at the feeling her hand putting pressure down on her arm.

-

looking at the crowd in front of her she stood holding up her arm,

"day seven with this bite and i haven't turned i won't turn because i'm immune to whatever the hell this is, and i would like to go back to not being harrassed" she muttered.

everyone else in the group had left her be now, she was one less thing they had to worry about. and it made her life so much easier no more poking and prodding, she was actually able to have a conversation without Shane stalking her.

"you think they trust me now?"

she whispered over to Daryl who had a smile on his face, "sure they do, ya got bit by a walker to prove yer point who wouldn't trust ya" he replied feeling her head lean against his shoulder.

"until the next walker bite i suppose"

[imnicovamp]

I don't wanna be afraid of being alive.

[darylslittlebitch]

twd characters asking fem!reader to be their partner

characters: daryl, rick, negan, carl, glenn and maggie.

writer's note: yooo, this one hit different, i ain't even gonna lie. writing all these twd characters confessing had me feeling some type of way, but carl’s??? nah, that one wrecked me. like, i’m straight-up devastated because he’ll never get to ask again… bruh, i’m in shambles. let me know which one was y’all’s fave, but if you say anything other than carl’s, i’m side-eyeing you. hard. anyways, request are open ;)

daryl

You walked cautiously among the trees, your rifle slung over your shoulder and your gaze alert for any threats. The sun filtered through the treetops, casting long shadows over the leaf-covered ground. Daryl was a few meters ahead, his crossbow ready in case anything appeared.

The sound of a branch snapping in the distance made both of you stop. Daryl raised his hand in a silent signal, and you followed his gaze to a small movement in the bushes. His expression hardened as he spotted his target: a plump gray squirrel, moving nimbly between the low branches.

Without wasting time, Daryl lifted his crossbow and aimed with precision. His finger squeezed the trigger, but the squirrel, as if mocking him, moved at the last second, causing the bolt to embed itself in the tree trunk. He cursed under his breath and quickly reloaded.

“Damn fast little thing,” he muttered, aiming again. He fired once more, and once again, he missed by mere inches.

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. It was too funny to see this rugged, manly survivalist being outwitted by a tiny squirrel.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the best hunter?” you teased with a smirk.

Daryl huffed, keeping his eyes locked on the squirrel, which was now scurrying up the thickest trunk. He clenched his jaw, clearly frustrated, but unwilling to give up.

You knew he really wanted that squirrel. Maybe the idea of eating it was unappealing to you, but for Daryl, any kind of meat was a blessing. Sighing, you rolled your eyes before setting your rifle down and shrugging off your jacket.

“Let me do it,” you said with determination. The things you did for this man.

Daryl frowned, looking at you with disbelief. “What are you gonna do?”

Without answering, you approached the tree and started climbing with ease. You had climbed many times before when the world was still normal, and the skill had never left you. Your hands found holds in the bark, your feet pressed against the trunk’s crevices, and within seconds, you were at the same height as the squirrel. It stared at you with its small black eyes, assessing whether you were a real threat.

Daryl watched from below, arms crossed, a mix of skepticism and curiosity on his face.

When the squirrel tried to climb higher, you reacted swiftly. With an agile movement, you leaped onto the nearest branch and, with precise timing, managed to catch the animal in your hands. The little creature struggled, snapping its tiny teeth at the air and trying to scratch you, but you had experience handling live prey. With a quick twist of your wrists, you snapped its neck, feeling its body go limp in your hands. You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt. It always surprised you how much easier it was for you to kill a walker—or even a person—than an animal.

“Watch out!” you called before tossing the squirrel down to Daryl.

He reacted quickly, catching it in the air with both hands. When he looked at the lifeless animal in his grasp, his expression shifted from surprise to admiration.

“Well, damn… Not bad,” he muttered, looking up at you.

You grinned triumphantly, but as you tried to climb down, your foot slipped on the damp bark. You had no time to react. You felt the air rush past your face as you fell, and in the blink of an eye, you landed on something—or rather, on someone.

Daryl let out a grunt as your weight knocked him to the ground. His back hit the earth hard, and you ended up sprawled on top of him, your hands planted on his chest, your legs straddling his waist.

For a moment, there was complete silence. Your eyes met his, both of you breathing heavily from the shock. You could feel his chest rising and falling beneath your palms, his warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

And then, you started laughing. You couldn’t help it. The moment, the fall, Daryl’s expression—it was all too funny. Your laughter echoed through the forest, a rare, genuine sound in these dark times.

Daryl stared at you intently. Something inside him clicked in that instant. It wasn’t just your strength, your survival skills, or your sharp wit that drew him to you. It was your laughter, your spirit—the way you made him feel like, despite everything they had been through, there was still something good left in this world.

“You gotta stop throwin’ yourself at me, woman,” he muttered in his usual gruff tone.

You smiled, still on top of him. “Oh, come on. Don’t complain. I got you your dinner, didn’t I?”

He let out a short huff, shaking his head. His hands, which had been resting at his sides, hesitated before moving to settle on your hips. It wasn’t a rough or possessive gesture—more like a silent confirmation.

“You know…” Daryl paused, as if debating whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, he sighed and muttered, “You should be my girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“What?” you asked, completely taken aback. Out of all the things Daryl Dixon could have said, this was the last thing you expected.

Daryl looked away for a second, uncomfortable, but then he met your gaze again with a bit more certainty.

“I’m sayin’ you should be my girl,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I dunno how the hell you do it, but… I like havin’ you around. I like hearin’ you laugh. I like that you can do this”—he lifted the squirrel in one hand—“without even flinchin’. I like that you’re you.”

For the first time, you saw Daryl Dixon nervous. He wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings, but here he was, confessing something that words could barely contain.

A smile crept onto your lips. “Aw, if you wanted to ask me out, you could’ve done it sooner. I didn’t know you were so crazy about me.”

Daryl scoffed. “Shut up.”

You laughed again and, without hesitation, leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before whispering:

“Alright, Dixon. I’ll be your girl.”

The barely noticeable flush on his cheeks was proof that, for the first time in a long while, Daryl Dixon had found something—someone—worth sticking around for.

rick

The community in Alexandria was calm, with some residents finishing up their tasks for the day. You walked through the cobbled streets with a weapon and a couple of knives secured at your belt. You were always on alert, even in a place that was supposed to be safe.

Since you arrived, you had found your purpose in something more than just surviving. Carl.

Rick’s son reminded you of someone you had lost a long time ago: your little brother. It was a wound that still hurt, an invisible scar that never truly faded. Maybe that’s why you became so close to Carl, teaching him all sorts of things, looking after him, making sure he was okay. You had come to see him almost as a brother, and in reality, Carl saw you as something more too: a maternal figure. You both filled the emotional gaps in each other’s lives, though that didn’t mean your bond wasn’t real.

And without you realizing it, Rick had noticed that too.

The two of you had been in this game of glances, subtle touches, conversations that lasted longer than necessary. There was something between you, something neither of you had fully admitted, but it was there.

But that day wasn’t quiet.

Shouts echoed from the main house. Rick’s deep voice rang with authority, but Carl’s response was just as fierce. From the garden, you and Michonne exchanged a concerned look. It wasn’t unusual for father and son to argue, but this time it seemed more intense.

"I'm going to see what’s going on," you said, setting your weapon down on the table before heading toward the house.

Michonne nodded, knowing that if anyone could calm Carl, it was you.

You climbed the stairs quickly, and as you reached the hallway, you found Carl’s door slightly ajar. From there, you could see Rick with a frown, hands on his hips, jaw tense. Carl, on the other hand, had his fists clenched and his eyes filled with fury.

"You don’t understand anything, Dad! You always think you're right!" Carl shouted.

"It’s not about being right, it’s about you listening, Carl! I’m not going to risk you!"

"I'm not a kid, I can handle myself."

"Not after what happened with the Saviors. Not while I’m still breathing."

Carl scoffed and looked away, visibly frustrated. You couldn’t let the argument escalate further, so you stepped in.

"Alright, that’s enough, both of you," you said as you entered the room.

Rick turned his head toward you, his expression still hard, but his eyes revealed something else—exhaustion, concern. Carl, however, looked ready to keep arguing.

"Carl, come here," you said gently, motioning for him.

He hesitated but eventually obeyed. You guided him to the bed and sat beside him. Rick remained by the door, watching.

"Listen, I know you want to prove to your dad that you can handle yourself," you said calmly, "and I know you can. You’re strong, stronger than you should be at your age… but Rick just wants to protect you. Not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he loves you."

Carl huffed, still frustrated.

"I’m not a kid."

You smiled fondly and ruffled his hair, making him groan.

"No, you’re not. But to him, you’ll always be a little bit of one. That’s just how parents are, you know?" You lowered your voice slightly. "My brother used to say the same thing when I was too overprotective."

Carl turned to you, his anger softening slightly.

"Your brother?"

You nodded.

"He was younger than me… and I always made sure he was safe. When all of this started, I never left him alone for a second, never let him take any risks. Sometimes he hated me for it, thought I didn’t trust him… but the truth was, I just didn’t want to lose him."

Silence filled the room. Carl lowered his gaze, understanding your words.

"What happened to him?" he asked quietly.

You swallowed hard.

"I couldn’t save him."

Carl didn’t say anything else, but his expression showed that he understood the point. His shoulders relaxed, and the hardness in his face faded.

"You're right," he admitted after a moment.

You smiled and gave him a light push on the shoulder.

"I’m always right."

He let out a small smile.

"Get some rest, okay?"

Carl nodded and lay back on his bed. You ruffled his hair once more before standing up and leaving the room, closing the door softly behind you.

When you turned, you found Rick still in the hallway, watching you with an expression hard to decipher. You said nothing, simply walking down the stairs, with him following closely behind.

When you reached the living room, Rick ran a hand down his face and sighed heavily.

"Thank you… for that."

You shrugged.

"You don’t have to thank me. I don’t like seeing him fight with you."

Rick looked at you intently, and for the first time, you felt like he wasn’t trying to hide what he really thought.

"You’re good with him," he said in a low voice. "Too good."

You shrugged again.

"I just understand him."

Rick shook his head.

"No… it’s not just that. You do more for him than anyone else would. And not just for him—for me too. You’re always there, supporting me, making sure Carl and I are okay."

You bit your lip, feeling slightly overwhelmed by so much sincerity at once.

"Well… someone has to."

Rick gave a faint smile and stepped closer. His presence was warm, strong, reassuring.

"You’d be a great mother."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You blinked, stunned.

"What?"

He held your gaze.

"I said you’d be a great mother. And I’d like… for you to be the mother of my son. Well, of my kids, because Judith loves you too."

Your breath caught for a second.

Rick didn’t beat around the bush. He didn’t say, "I like you," he didn’t say, "I want to try." He just said it outright.

Your throat felt dry.

"Rick…"

He took another step, so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin.

"I don’t want to keep dancing around this. I don’t want to keep pretending this isn’t happening. I want you with me, officially. I want you to be part of my family."

You looked into his eyes, feeling the air between you grow thick with that same electricity that always left you breathless.

And then, with a shaky smile, you nodded.

"I want that too."

Rick exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath, and before you could say another word, he grabbed you by the waist and kissed you.

negan

You walked firmly through the hallways, ignoring the looks Negan’s men gave you. Some with respect, others with caution. You didn’t care. You weren’t there to make friends.

You were the leader of your own group, a woman who had survived hell without needing anyone. When the world had gone to shit, you learned that mercy was a weakness. You learned to slit throats without blinking, to crush skulls with your own hands if necessary.

You had met Negan in an ambush. His men and yours had torn each other apart in a hail of bullets, blood covering the ground like rain. It was a miracle that neither of you had died that night. But instead of continuing the slaughter, you both realized that fighting each other was a waste. Two forces as brutal as yours shouldn’t destroy each other—they should unite.

And so you did.

But there was no trust. No friendship. Only a survival pact.

Although, of course, Negan always made sure to cross the line.

You reached his office door and walked in without knocking.

Negan was sitting behind his desk, Lucille resting against the table and a glass of whiskey in his hand. When he saw you, he smirked in that annoyingly arrogant way that always managed to irritate you.

“Well, well, well… look who decided to pay me a visit. Couldn’t stay away from me, sweetheart?”

You slammed the door shut and walked up to his desk.

“Shut up and listen,” you snapped. “We have a problem with Rick and his group. They’ve been sniffing around our supply routes, and they’ve stolen enough to start pissing me off.”

Negan raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his whiskey.

“Damn, so aggressive. I love it when you get like this.”

You ignored his comment and continued.

“If that son of a bitch doesn’t stop, I’ll handle it myself.”

Negan leaned his elbows on the desk, looking at you with amusement.

“And what are you gonna do, sweetheart? Give him a nice little lecture on good manners?”

You smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly one.

“I’m going to slit his throat like a fucking pig and watch his blood spill onto the ground while his son watches,” you said with unsettling calm. “I’ll gut him with my bare hands and then hang his corpse at Alexandria’s gates so everyone understands what happens when they fuck with me.”

Negan let out a low whistle.

“Damn… that’s exactly the kind of energy that drives me wild.”

He gave you that sly grin, the one he used when he felt especially charming.

“You know, sweetheart, every time I see you, I get more convinced that you’re the perfect woman for me.”

You shot him a warning look.

“Negan, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

He got up from his chair and walked around the desk until he was right in front of you.

“Oh, but I am,” he murmured, using that deep voice he always used when he was trying to seduce you. “And let me tell you something, gorgeous… I’ve seen a lot of things in this world. I’ve met a lot of people—some strong, some boring as hell. But you… you’re a fucking goddess among mortals.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Is that supposed to be romantic?”

Negan smirked.

“And it’s not just about how you look—though, damn, don’t get me started on that because I could spend hours describing it—but it’s because you’ve got balls, sweetheart. You’re no sheep, you don’t take orders from anyone. You’re a damn beast. And that drives me crazy.”

His face was so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

“Negan…” you started in warning, but he didn’t let you finish.

In one swift move, he grabbed your face and kissed you.

But this wasn’t a tender kiss, nor a hesitant one. It was possessive, raw, full of intensity. Negan didn’t ask for permission—he didn’t hesitate. His lips moved over yours with hunger, as if he wanted to devour you whole.

And you didn’t stop him.

You pushed him against the desk, letting your body speak for you. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing firmly. The desk creaked under the weight of both of you as the kiss deepened, growing more desperate, hotter.

When you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, Negan looked at you with those dark eyes filled with desire.

“Damn, sweetheart… I think I just made a decision.”

You raised an eyebrow, still breathing heavily.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Negan smirked, running his hands down your back.

“That it’s about time we made this official. What do you say, sweetheart? Wanna be the queen of this fucked-up kingdom?”

You stared at him. You knew this wasn’t just a game for him. Negan could be an arrogant bastard, but he never said things he didn’t mean.

And the worst part was that deep down, you wanted this too.

“That sounds interesting, but first I want to assess what benefits I can get from this relationship,” you replied playfully, letting your hands roam over his abdomen, dangerously close to his lower half.

Negan let out a triumphant laugh, enjoying you and the moment.

“Then let’s run a quality check, shall we?”

And this time, when he kissed you again, there were no more doubts. Only fire, desire, and the certainty that together, you would be unstoppable.

carl

The Alexandria infirmary had a distinctive scent of alcohol and medicinal herbs, an aroma that had become part of your daily life. Ever since your father, an experienced doctor before the world collapsed, taught you everything he knew, you had taken on the responsibility of caring for the wounded in the community. And while you had hardened in many ways, when it came to healing others, you still had a delicate touch—something Carl had noticed from the very first day.

He was sitting on the examination table, silently watching you as you pulled out a small jar of ointment. The left side of his face was covered in bandages, hiding the wound that had changed his life forever. Since he was shot in the eye and fell into a coma, you had been the one who stayed by his side, caring for him tirelessly for weeks.

"I'm going to apply this so the scar heals better," you explained as you leaned in toward him. "It might sting a little."

Carl nodded without saying a word. Ever since he woke up, his attitude had changed. He was still strong, determined… but there was a shadow of insecurity in his gaze.

You took a bit of the ointment on your fingers and, with extreme care, began applying it to the reddened skin around his wound. You noticed how he clenched his jaw, but you didn’t stop.

He never looked away from you.

"Carl," you called softly, noticing his silence. "What are you thinking about?"

He looked away for a moment, his only functional hand gripping the fabric of his pants.

"I look like a freak," he finally muttered.

You froze.

"What?"

Carl lowered his gaze.

"Before… I was afraid of people seeing me as weak. Now I can’t even look at myself in the mirror without thinking I look terrifying."

You let out a sigh and set the ointment aside. Without a second thought, you took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Don’t ever say that again," you said firmly.

Carl swallowed hard.

"You don’t understand…"

"I understand more than you think," you interrupted him. "Having scars isn’t a bad thing, Carl. It’s proof that you survived. You have no idea how incredibly strong you are."

He seemed like he wanted to argue, but your gaze kept him silent. Then, you smiled and gently brushed your thumb across the skin near his bandage.

"Besides… you know what?"

"What?" he murmured, never breaking eye contact.

"You look like a damn pirate now," you teased.

Carl blinked, caught off guard by your sudden change in tone.

"A pirate?"

"Yeah," you nodded with a playful smile. "And pirates are cool. I’ll even make it my mission to find you the most badass eye patch out there."

For the first time in days, Carl let out a small laugh.

"You have a weird sense of humor," he remarked.

"And you have an obsession with thinking the worst of yourself," you shot back with a grin. "So, I guess we’re even."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Your hands remained on his face, looking at him gently. Carl took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage for something.

"Then… would you be my girlfriend?"

Your smile froze.

Carl didn’t look away. His voice didn’t waver, his posture was firm. This wasn’t a question thrown into the air—it was a declaration.

You blinked, feeling a mix of surprise and something else… something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Carl…"

"Don’t tell me you don’t take me seriously," he interrupted. "I know what I want."

You slowly lowered your hands from his face, sighing.

"It’s not that I don’t take you seriously," you said honestly. "It’s just that… there’s an age difference, Carl. You’re sixteen. I’m twenty-one."

He frowned.

"That doesn’t mean anything."

"It does."

Carl shook his head.

"Then… what am I supposed to do with how I feel?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

"I don’t want to hurt you, Carl. But I think someone your age would be a better fit for you…"

"Forget it," he said firmly. "I don’t want Enid, I don’t want anyone else. I want you."

His sincerity completely disarmed you.

Carl was young, yes, but he wasn’t a child. In this world, age had lost much of its meaning. He had matured through hardship, through blood, through death. But that didn’t change the fact that he still had so much left to experience.

"Carl… I like you," you finally confessed, your voice soft.

His eyes widened in surprise.

"Then…?"

"But we can’t be together right now," you explained. "It wouldn’t be right. You need to live more before making a decision like this. Maybe in a few years, you’ll see things differently."

Carl looked frustrated, but also hopeful.

"Then tell me… what do I have to do?"

You smiled tenderly and leaned in toward him.

"Ask me again in two years," you whispered.

Before he could respond, you kissed his cheek.

Carl remained silent, his breath hitching for a moment. His cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn’t look away from you.

You knew he would take it seriously.

And you… you could only hope that, in two years, the world wouldn’t take him away from you before he had the chance to ask again.

glenn

The expedition had started off well. They had found a half-looted supply store, but there were still enough useful things to make the risk worthwhile. The team consisted of Glenn, Michonne, Rosita, Abraham, and you. Together, they managed to gather a good amount of canned food, medicine, and some tools.

It seemed like a simple mission. But, as always, things never went as planned.

The problem started when Glenn, who was checking the back of the store, heard an unsettling noise. A low murmur, the shuffling of feet growing louder and louder.

"We've got company," he warned, quickly approaching the others.

Michonne already had her katana ready. Abraham gripped his rifle. Rosita peeked through one of the windows and muttered a curse.

"We're screwed," she announced.

And she wasn't exaggerating.

What had been a relatively clear alley just minutes ago was now packed with walkers. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Their groans blended into a macabre chorus as they advanced toward the store.

The only vehicle they had was parked in the back, but the only way to reach it was completely blocked.

"Shit!" Abraham exclaimed, tightening his grip on his rifle.

"Options?" Glenn asked, trying to stay calm.

Michonne frowned, thinking.

"We could wait and look for a way out later," Rosita suggested.

"By then, we'd be completely surrounded," you countered.

Everyone exchanged tense glances. They were trapped.

And then, a crazy idea crossed your mind.

"We can force our way out," you suddenly said.

All eyes turned to you.

"How?" Glenn asked, frowning.

You pointed to a couple of metal shelves in a corner. Some of them were stacked with flammable products—spray cans, bottles of alcohol, even a few lighters.

"We can set off a controlled explosion," you explained. "Something to distract them long enough for us to make a run for the truck."

Abraham let out a short laugh.

"Shit, I like the way you think."

Michonne, always pragmatic, nodded.

"If we're doing this, we need to do it fast."

Without wasting time, everyone started moving things. You used a box of alcohol as a base, stacked several spray cans around it, and then improvised a fuse with an old shirt and a lighter.

"This is insane," Glenn muttered beside you as you worked.

You smirked.

"Welcome to the apocalypse."

Once everything was set, you lit the fuse and tossed it onto the pile of flammable materials.

"Run!" you shouted.

Everyone dashed toward the back of the store. They barely had time to take cover before a deafening explosion shook the place. Shelves shattered, fire spread, and the walkers were drawn to the blast.

They didn’t wait to see the aftermath. Michonne was the first to move, followed by Rosita and Abraham, shooting down any walker that got in their way.

Glenn was right beside you.

"Come on!" he urged, but he couldn't stop looking at you.

His heart pounded—not just from the danger, but from the way you had taken control of the situation. You were incredible.

Finally, they reached the truck. Abraham jumped into the driver's seat and floored the gas as soon as everyone was inside.

Only when they were safely back on the road did they allow themselves a moment to breathe.

Michonne leaned back against her seat with a relieved sigh.

"That was intense," Rosita commented, glancing out the window to make sure they weren’t being followed.

"Intense? That was fucking brilliant!" Abraham exclaimed, turning toward you.

"That was insane," Glenn corrected, but there was a smile on his face.

Abraham chuckled and nudged Glenn, whispering to him afterward.

"If you don’t ask her to be your girlfriend right now, I swear to God, I will."

Glenn fell silent, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

He decided to wait for the conversation to shift before moving closer to you.

When the others started discussing what to do with the supplies, Glenn took the opportunity. He leaned in slightly, his voice lower.

"Can I ask you something?"

You turned your head toward him, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure."

He swallowed hard, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his jacket.

"I... I think it’s been pretty obvious that I have feelings for you, even if I’ve never said it explicitly. But the point is, I like you—more than just 'like.' I want something serious with you. So, my question is: Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

You fell silent for a moment, surprised by the unexpected confession.

Glenn smiled nervously.

"I mean it," he continued. "You're incredible. And I know this world is a mess, but… I think we could find something good in the middle of all this. Of course, only if you want to."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in his gaze. Glenn had always been special—someone you could trust, someone who always found a reason to smile, even in the worst moments.

And yes… the truth was, you liked him too.

You smiled and, without thinking too much, took his hand and intertwined your fingers.

"I do. I want to be your girlfriend, Glenn."

He let out a relieved laugh.

"Well… thank God," he murmured, bringing your intertwined hands to his lips to kiss them.

From the front seat, Abraham smirked as he watched through the rearview mirror.

"Finally! About damn time."

maggie

The sun was setting on the horizon when the group finally returned to Hilltop. They had spent the entire day out, searching for supplies in a nearby town. The mission had been dangerous, as always, but fruitful.

You walked alongside Maggie, both of you covered in dust and sweat. Hilltop’s farm loomed ahead, its imposing wooden fence protecting the community you had helped build.

"I'm exhausted," you sighed, running a hand over your forehead.

Maggie glanced at you and smiled.

"At least we made it back in one piece."

You both knew what that meant. Not everyone was as lucky.

Since joining Hilltop, you had become inseparable from Maggie. Maybe it was because you both shared an unbreakable determination, a need to protect your people. Or maybe it was because, in the midst of so much death, she was the only person who truly felt like home.

And Maggie… Maggie knew it.

Since Glenn’s death, she had built walls around herself. She had learned to survive, to be strong, to not let grief consume her. But with you… it was different.

You made her laugh.

You made her forget, even if just for a few seconds, how much she had lost.

And that terrified her.

As you unloaded the supplies into the barn, Maggie paused for a moment to watch you. Your agile hands lifted box after box, your expression focused yet relaxed. You had proven to be one of the bravest members of the group, someone she could trust completely.

And damn it if that didn’t make her want you even more.

"What is it?" you asked, noticing her staring at you.

Maggie quickly shook her head, snapping back to reality.

"Nothing," she replied with a small smile.

"Uh-huh," you said, raising an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes and picked up another box.

"I'm serious. I just… I'm glad you're here."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you decided not to dwell on it.

"Well, I’m not going anywhere," you replied with a playful smile.

Maggie didn’t answer, but the way she looked at you sent a shiver down your spine.

After finishing with the supplies, you both headed to the main house. The night was cool, the air filled with the scent of damp earth after the light rain that had fallen earlier.

Before going inside, Maggie stopped on the porch, gazing up at the stars.

"Do you ever think about what life would be like if the world hadn’t gone to hell?" she asked softly.

You fell silent for a moment, considering.

"Yeah," you admitted. "All the time."

Maggie nodded slowly, still looking at the sky.

"I think you'd make a great teacher," she said suddenly.

You chuckled softly.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You’re good at teaching others, at helping… I can imagine a bunch of kids driving you crazy in a classroom."

You shook your head in amusement.

"And you?" you asked.

Maggie shrugged.

"I always wanted a simple life. A family, a farm… something peaceful."

Her voice broke slightly on the last word, and you knew she was thinking about Glenn.

Without saying anything, you took her hand and squeezed it gently.

"That doesn’t mean you can’t have it someday," you said softly.

Maggie looked at you, her eyes glistening.

"You give me hope," she murmured.

And then, without thinking twice, she kissed you.

The world around you disappeared.

Her lips against yours were warm, urgent, desperate. It wasn’t a soft or delicate kiss. It was raw, as if she had been holding back for too long.

Your back hit the door of the house as Maggie deepened the kiss, her fingers tangling in your hair.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless.

"Wow," you murmured.

Maggie smiled, biting her lip.

"Too late to back out now, huh?"

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath.

"Not a chance."

Maggie let out a soft laugh and took your hand.

"Then come with me."

And without hesitation, you followed her inside.

Once inside, Maggie led you to her room, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the wooden frame, watching you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"I’ve always been stubborn," she said suddenly.

You smiled, crossing your arms.

"Yeah, I’ve noticed."

Maggie sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Since I met you, I’ve been trying to convince myself that this couldn’t happen. That it wasn’t the right time, that it wasn’t right."

Your heart pounded.

"And now?" you asked softly.

Maggie gave you a small, lopsided smile.

"Now I understand that there are no right moments. Just moments we take or let slip away."

She stepped closer, her gaze locked onto yours.

"I don’t want to let you slip away."

The way she said it, with so much certainty, so much emotion, made your legs feel like they might give out.

"Maggie…"

She took your hands in hers.

"I want you to be my partner," she said without hesitation. "I want this to be real. Not just a moment, not just a distraction… I want to be with you."

The weight of her words crashed over you like a wave.

It had been so long since someone made you feel this way, since someone was willing to love you in a world where love felt like a death sentence.

But Maggie… she was willing to take the risk.

And so were you.

You smiled, squeezing her hands tightly.

"Then what are you waiting for to kiss your girlfriend?"

Maggie let out a soft laugh before cupping your face in her hands and kissing you with all the passion she had been holding back for so long.

[kookiekult]

GIGGLING MY FEET AND TWIRLING MY HAIR 🤪😝🤪😝

I think this is my favorite maggie edit that I've made 🤭

Requested by: @hiro--aoki 😛😛

I'm workin on the other ones fam 💪

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

can you pretty please do more maggie greene🙏 literally anything. i am STARVING!!! FOAMING AT THE MOUTH!!!!! ROLLING AROUND IN THE STREET LIKE A RACCOON WITH RABIES!!!!!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐞

— pairing: maggie greene x fem!plus size reader

— era: modern au/small southern town au

— summary: you were a normal church going girl: you graduated high school with good grades, read the bible and prayed, but that was all shattered by the time you met the brunette enigma by the name of maggie greene.

— warnings: depictions of toxic religious practices, toxic religious small towns, homophobia, internalized homophobia, the reader is lesbian coded but can be read by any wlw :], porn with feelings, sex in a hayloft, kissing, a crazy amount of dirty talk, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, teasing, maggie is a tease, bisexual maggie greene, homosexual sex.

— wc: 3384

⋆ a/n: WOW, so welcome to the 3k religious small-town au of maggie that no one asked for!!! this is deeply inspired by 'once more to see you' by mitski, and honestly i've been stewing on this idea for a while before i actually got the nerve to upload it. in no way am i slandering religious/religions of any kind, and honestly i didn't even give the reader and maggie a specific religion, everything is just kind of vague for imagination purposes.

masterlist | AO3

A small southern town, a church, a pretty girl, and a predestined bad ending.

You often recall the beginning of the rest of your life. The young woman you had a crush on was peering over at you from the pew next to yours, a playful grin threatening to take over her face when it looked like she had finally gotten your attention.

You remember your face heating, a faint blush spreading from your ears to your cheeks as you quickly looked away. Your hands that were once lightly clasped in prayer tightened, the palms of your hands pressing together with no space left between them. You had gulped nervously before looking back at her again to find that she was still looking at you, intrigue tugged at your gut.

It was temptation, and that was a sin; and yet… you couldn’t really find it within yourself to care. You held her gaze, before allowing yourself to smile at her shyly. The only word you could use to describe her was beaming. She radiated everything that was good, she encompassed the stars and moon in her eyes.

You didn’t know it then, but you’d learn to crave her intense stares, her attention, more than a normal girl in a normal female friendship would. You hated the sickening feeling of jealousy that would encompass you when she’d send that signature playful smile to, well… anyone really.

Your parents approved of her – not in the way you wanted them to – a nice church going girl that wanted to come over so you could read the bible together? Why, she was better than those heathens you called friends (the ones with dyed hairs and outspoken opinions).

In your small town, anyone who spoke out against the narrow-minded ideas of your extremely conservative community were alienated. They were wrong. Sinners. And God forgive those who others perceive as queer.

Now that was the worst sin of all.

Your throat would close up whenever your parents would bring up those “damned queers” and how they’re indoctrinating the poor, fragile minds of the growing youth. 

You knew, how could you not know? You knew the way you felt and admired women was different from those around you. Other girls didn’t get the urge to kiss other girls, they didn’t feel that horrible, nasty feeling of lust whenever another woman would even show a mildly suggestive sliver of skin on TV.

Suddenly, dinner didn’t sound that good anymore.

But then there was Maggie. Sweet, beautiful, playful Maggie.

And the devil in disguise.

She wasn’t all she had made herself out to be to those around her; she wasn’t the mild mannered, polite southern girl, she was mischievous, and playful, and… and tempting kind. She was your rock, the one that kept you grounded to the earth when the gravity of your thoughts threatened to take you away to somewhere far away.

She also pulled you out of your comfort zone, daring you to do something you had never even dared to do before. One of those things being sneaking out to the Hayloft of her father’s barn. 

It was a smelly old thing, humid and hot and everything wrong with Virginia, but most importantly it was your spot. Something that you shared with her. Even though you will always want more, being there with her was enough. It had to be enough.

You shivered at the warm air that entered your now opened window, which completely contrasted the cold air circulating through your house. Your parents had just gone down not even an hour before, but your mother, bless her heart, was so wine drunk that your father had to whisk her away to save her further mortification due to her drunken rambling.

In a strange way, knowing your mother had her flaws was comforting.

You split out quietly through the gap you had left, though due to the house being old, the thing was fidgety, so you shoved a book through the bottom to keep it open. It didn’t take you long to make it to that signature white wood chipped barn, butterflies swirling around in your gut at the thought of her being there.

“Howdy.” Maggie greeted from the top of the barn.

You jumped in surprise, clutching your chest over your speeding heart.

“Gosh Mags! You scared me! I wasn’t even halfway through the door yet!” You exclaimed quietly, but nevertheless made to climb up the ladder leading to the Hayloft above.

“Sorry hun, jus’ couldn’t wait.”

Ah, the nicknames. 

Warm giddiness flowed through your veins as you set your backpack down, pulling out a blanket and a chip bag or two.

“How’d you get these?” Maggie questioned at the sight of the fattening food. You just shrug with a shy smile, “I bought ‘em when I offered to go get the groceries.”

The thing about being a fat girl in a small town is that your mom had to control it, you represented her after all. You were supposed to be the exact reflection of her, and she was most definitely not your size. So your weight was another thing she had to keep in line (aside from your sexual virtue of course.)

“Whew,” She blew out a whistled breath. “Yer growin’ darin’, girl, arent’cha?” You blushed, casting your gaze to the open part of the roof – a hole her father and brother hadn’t been able to patch yet.

It was a clear view of the darkened sky, the stars glaring despite the heat of the night.

“I guess I learned from the best.” You said cheekily. “Real darin’.” She bit back.

The tension was palpable between the two of you, but you could never – couldn’t – allow it to grow, to reach its peak. You looked away first, scrambling to try and act natural as you adjusted yourself on top of the blanket Maggie had already put down. You let the airy blanket you had brought drape over your jean covered crossed legs, almost acting as a barrier between you and your forbidden want.

Your heart was racing and your lungs were aching but God, nothing compared to the pang of longing that shot through you like a bullet had shattered into fragments. 

Maggie had allowed you to slip away from her grasp once again, which you were grateful for.

She settled beside you, her own crossed legs bumping into yours, not a sliver of space between you. She had let you go, but not for long. The push and pull was beginning to grow shorter and shorter on her end, it was up to you to keep extending her more length. You had to.

After a beat of silence she said, “You ever dream of gettin’ outta here?”

You look at her, startled. “All the time.” You couldn’t stop yourself from saying.

If she was shocked by your confession, she didn’t say anything. “Why?” Was all she asked. “Because…” Because I always feel like my family’s constantly breathing down my neck, because I feel suffocated, because I can’t truly be who I am without being called an abomination. 

Because I love you.

“Because I’ve always wanted to see the city.” You finally say with another half-hearted shrug. 

“What if I could take you there?”

“What?” You breathed out in confusion, whipping your head around to look at her with furrowed brows.

“What if I could take you to the city, would you come with me?”

“I…” Yes, you want to say, I’d go anywhere with you. “It’s not good to entertain thoughts like this.” A loaded statement and you know it. 

“Oh please, don’t hit me with that bullshit.” She scoffed. “I’m not, I’m being serious! We have our family to think about. We can't just… we can’t just leave. We have a life here, we can… we are growing a life here.” With each other. 

“You don’t want that.” She says. It’s a statement not a question. “You don’t want that. I know it and you know it. And trust me, I don’t want whatever future you’re thinking of either.”

“Oh, yeah? And what future am I thinking of that’s so bad that even the big bad Maggie Greene can’t see a way out besides leaving?” You snapped. The question was ugly, and it was meant to hurt. 

“The one where we grow old and act like we’re not in love with each other! Where we practically damn ourselves to hell everyday just by seeing each other, and yet we choose to condemn our lives to those with men and children we both would never truly love.” She takes your now trembling hand in hers. 

“You’re envisioning a nightmare, and I am imagining a dream. A dream where we’re together in the city in a big, stupid penthouse that we both love, where we can both be free without some bible thumpers knocking at our door telling us that our love is wrong.”

You stare at her with glassy eyes, shined over with tears that threaten to pool over the edges like an unsealed jar.

“Maggie…” Was it a plea? A whimper? A beg? A beg to stop her from getting your hopes up.

“We… we can’t.” The devastation is clear in your voice and you try to pull your hand away but she won’t let you. Her grip tightens, her voice tight. “No, no more. Stop runnin’ away from me, from us. I know yer scared but… but we could do this. Are we not allowed to want this one thing to ourselves? Why can’t we just be a little selfish?”

Your eyelids flutter shut but she knows your resolve is crumbling bit by bit.

“We…” You sob. “We can’t.” It’s weak, even to your own ears. You don’t believe it, not anymore. She was right. Why couldn’t you be selfish? Your whole life you had just given and given and given until you were left wringing out a towel that was already dry.

“We can.” Was all she could say to counter your tears.

The Hayloft was silent, as if the world had heard the confession of two girls in love and captured it, tucking it away to remain safely under the stars, the moon the only one bearing witness to the raw and exposed emotions.

“Maggie?” You said after a short amount of time of her thumb stroking across the soft skin of your knuckles. “Yes, baby?” 

“Kiss me?” 

Her eyes widened at your request, but she didn’t hesitate to lean in closer, her lips brushing up against yours for a sweet moment.

“I love you.” Maybe you could blame it on being in the heat of the moment, or maybe a slip of the tongue, but no, you were tired of pushing her away, you were tired of running.

It felt like for the past two years you’ve known her all you’ve done is run; run from yourself, run from the expectations of your family, run from the church, run, run, run. You wanted to sit down and enjoy life for one detrimental moment.

“I love you too.” The confession brought a smile to both of your faces before she finally pressed your lips together.

It wasn’t magical, there weren't bells or an explosion of colors behind your eyelids. No, this was her, the warmth of her body, the silent creaking of the old wood under you as she shifted closer into your space, the sound of crickets and frogs making noise in the creek next not even a few feet away hidden by the treeline. 

You created this kiss. This was yours and Maggie’s. No one else's. 

It was sweet at first, the feeling of heartache being replaced by the indistinguishable emotion that was relief. Pure relief. Relief to finally have her in your arms. To feel her.

Your lips parted in a gasp in order to try and catch your breath, but traced the seam of it with her tongue. You shudder despite the heat. She was pressing against you, like she was trying to shove you back.

“Lay down fer me?” She questions softly. Your stomach twists for a moment in fear before dissipating. This was Maggie. Maggie. Maggie.

You follow her ask, the woman slipping a thigh through your legs so she can balance the other one on the outside of you. Her hand never left its cradling form on your face, the other holding herself up above you. 

When the muscle of her tongue finally slipped inside your mouth, that’s when her leg twitches forward, like she was trying to swallow you whole. Her knee brushed against your pant covered heat and you whined.

“Maggie…” You whimper, your hands that are placed timidly on her shoulders tighten a bit, the dull pads of your fingers digging into her shoulder blades.

“How far do you wanna go?”

You knew what she meant.

Sex was already such a taboo subject, but homosexual sex between two women? That was enough to give any old conservative woman a heart attack. You knew you should tell her to stop, to say that kissing and planning your future together was enough, but it wasn’t. Now that you finally allowed yourself to let go, you want everything you’ve deprived yourself of.

“As far as you want.” You confess breathlessly. “No promise I have any idea of what I’m doing but I – but I want everything with you. Whatever you want. I’ll go anywhere with you.”

Her heated expression turned soft before it turned salacious.

“You don’t need to do anything sweetheart, jus’ let me do all the work, ‘kay? Gonna make you feel so good.” She all but purred. “Whatever you want.” You gasped as she placed kisses down the sensitive and unexplored part of your neck.

“Mags no marks…” You moan as she travels lower. “I know what ‘m doin’ sweet girl, stop worrying that pretty little head of yours and let go, yeah?”

You breath hitches at the feeling of her nimble, deft fingers working at the buttons of your jeans, her lips cradled at the shell of your ear. The puff of air sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah.” You agreed easily. 

“Good girl.” She cooed and your cheeks bloomed a pretty heat in embarrassment.

Maggie hooks her fingers in the material at your pants and tugs them down your thick thighs, getting caught over the curve of your ass.

“Lift your hips up.” She demands softly, and you eagerly oblige. 

She tugs them the rest of the way down, discarding them carelessly off to the side.

“You good?” She questions. “Yes, yeah, yes – please just… please don’t stop.” You all but beg. “I won’t honey, I got you.”

She works your panties down your legs, leaving you exposed to her hungry gaze. 

“Don’t stare.” You mumble shyly. “How can I not? You look so pretty.” You huff at the teasing tone in her voice. “Shush.” You bite without any malice, closing your legs to disrupt her view of your soaking cunt.

“Aw, baby, don’t be like that.” She laughs leaning her body into your space to separate your legs with her own body. Her eyes are trained on you and you gulp. “Hi.” You breathe. “Hey yourself.” She giggles. 

The tender moment continues when she leans down to join your mouths together softly. You close your eyes and lean into her, arms wrapping loosely around her neck oblivious to the wandering hand that slithers its way between the two of you.

When her fingertips brush against your wet slit you gasp, mouth falling open and inviting to assault as her tongue weaves its way into it again. Your tongues fight for a moment before you submit to hear, tiny whimpers piercing the serene and murky atmosphere. 

Maggie’s finger dips into the wetness, searching along before stopping on top of your clit, which she gives an experimental rub against.

“Oh!” You cry out, your hips stuttering. “‘M sensitive.” She coos, continuing now in fast circles. They’re just two finger pads pressed against the bud, but it feels like everything. Your breath gets caught in your throat once more and your eyes flutter shut.

“That feels… so…” You can’t find the words because it feels like your brain is shutting down. “Good, amazing, fantastic?” She lists out through a shit-eating smirk. You can’t find it within yourself to chide her, not when she stops and sinks one of her fingers into your heat.

“Ah – gosh, Maggie!”

“Shh, beautiful girl. I know we're outside but you gotta lower it, alright?”

“Mhm, whatever you want.” You said dazedly. Your head fell back when her thumb began drawing figure-eights on your clit. She laughs fondly, placing a heated kiss on your lips.

“Gonna add another one, ‘kay? It’ll feel a bit weird but I swear it’ll get better.” She warns. “It’s okay, I trust you.” You reassure despite the pleasure cloud in your mind. “Good.”

A second finger slips in, and though it’s a bit uncomfortable it’s quickly overridden by the proper wrist work of her hand. Something coils in your stomach, and it’s so tight and it makes you feel so desperate, like your nerves are on fire.

“Another one.” You demand breathlessly. “I gotta – I need another one. I’m so close and I don’t know – I…” 

“Sh, sh, sh. Alright, baby. Three fingers already? Wow, what a good girl, always knew you could take it.” She coos and you tremble. “You’ve thought of me like this?” You ask through pinched brows. “Uh huh. Thought of you when I was alone in my room at night with a hand shoved down my pants, thought of you when those pretty little lips of your spoke or smiled, thought of you when you wore those nice flowing skirts and those tight dresses.” She rambled.

“Could go on and on ‘bout how crazy you make me.”

Her dirty words all but shoved you to your end.

“You ever think ‘bout me?” 

“Huh?” You asked intelligently. “You ever thought ‘bout getting fucked by me? Oh, better yet, you ever thought about fucking me?”

“God – Maggie! Yes, yes, I!” It all happened too fast. One moment all of the fantasies of her had crossed your mind; her bare breasts, the taste of her, how she would sound. It was all too much, and you clenched down on her fingers like a vice, but she didn’t seem to mind, only curling them fast against your g-spot, her thumb relentless on its quest to give you a mind blowing orgasm.

“That’s it, get my hand messy, uh huh…” Maggie sounded dazed herself as she watched you squirm and clench and tremble, transfixed on the space between you. Your back arched into her, your own digits tangling in her now sweat soaked hair, drips of the liquid falling on your face.

Maybe any other time you would care, but not when she was deep in you.

You came down with a sigh, back finally flattening from its twisted up position. Your thighs fell apart and her fingers left you, the woman wiping them on the blanket below.

“Holy. Fuck.” Maggie laughed and you couldn’t help but join her, your already burning lungs struggling to contract to the new emotion.

“That was… wow.”

“A little bit better than wow, but I’ll take it.” She teased, falling to lay next to you. 

As you came down, you placed your hands over your full stomach, fingers interlacing together as you turned to stare at her. “What about you?” You asked. Your eyes trailed down to the spot between her legs. 

“What about me? We’ve always got next time, ya know? In the big city, in a nice plush bed and ac. Maybe even with a few candles lit compared to horse shit.”

You laughed again, but your stomach didn’t curl when she mentioned going to the city together. If anything, it was filled with excitement and hope. Hope hasn’t been something you felt for a long time.

You reached over and gripped her dirty hand.

“I love you, you know?” You questioned quietly into the air.

“Yeah,” She began, lifting to bring your palm up so she could kiss the back of it before letting it fall back on your stomach carelessly.

“I know.”

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[florashifting]

They shoulda been at the club 😔

[cxrphia]

Sophia Greene TWD DELUXE Issue #91

This issue had some of my favorite Sophia panels. The growth and character development from issue #41 up until now is great to see, and (occasionally) Kirkman was great at showing character development even in side characters.