#just. hershel has two hands

[aliidarling]

using you

RICK GRIMES X fem!reader

nsfw content — scroll if uncomfortable!!

summary: rick takes his anger out on you after lori's death because he's a self projecting loser and wants u really bad

warnings: p in v, no foreplay, rough sex, pussy slapping, age gap, degradation, mean rick, fingering, anal threats LOL, self projecting rick, old lonely rick, sweetish rick at the end ig

btw thank u everyone for sending me ideas for male manipulator rick pt.2 :) I'm definitely gonna take these into thought and write sum

i wrote this in three sittings like a week apart so some parts might not match up...

nsfw content below!!

Rick hadn’t come up from the basement of the prison in almost two days. No one had seen him, leading everyone to question if he was even alive anymore.

The death of Lori had impacted him. The atmosphere was tense, and not many words had been spoken. No one wanted to go down to comfort Rick, not wanting to get snapped at. Angry Rick was something else.

Hershel was the one who recommended you to go down and talk to Rick. At first, you were against it, because why? Carl was his son, Glenn was the first one he met out of everyone, and Daryl was like his brother. There was no reason why you should. You were just one of the younger girls in the group.

“Because he has a soft spot for you, sweetheart.” Hershel says gently, sighing and rubbing his temple. Your brows furrow as you think about his words.

“What? No— Rick hates me,” You scoff.

Every time you had tried to talk to the man he’d order you around and be cold to you, never letting you breathe without getting a stupid scolding. It was walking on eggshells around him.

“No, no.” He chuckles, brushing his hands through his thin white hair. He sits up. “He cares about you in his own little way, okay? You’re the only one here he wouldn’t hurt. Not that he’d hurt anyone else— but…” He groans. “You know what I mean.” 

You frown at him, picking at your hair. You reluctantly stand up, tossing your jacket on top of your shirt. “If I don’t come back in an hour, you know what happened.” You grumble dramatically.

He rolls his eyes and waves you off, giving you a little grateful smile.

A few minutes later, you were walking down the staircase into the boiler room, a frown painted onto your expression. You could hear angry muttering and the sound of metal clattering.

Just on your way here you had heard him yelling, you didn’t know at who. It worried you, was he already going crazy? Or was someone else down here with him?

As you walk inside the small, dark room, a messy-looking Rick comes into view. His hair was messy, his curls damp with sweat as he grumbled angrily to himself, leaning against a table.

He quickly turns at the sounds of your footsteps, hands on his hips as he narrows his eyes at your figure. What the hell were you doing here? Did no one get the message that he wanted to be left alone?

“What.” He huffs firmly, his body language cold and distant. He was always mean to you, but this just felt different, like he was a ticking time bomb. It made you shudder as you nervously picked at your hair, stepping closer.

“You’ve been down here for a while, Rick. Everyone’s getting worried.” You said softly, looking up at the older man through your lashes. It felt weird to be so nice and caring to him, he had just lost his wife— you felt bad. Horrible, even.

And a part of you made your guilt ten times stronger knowing you were still attracted to him throughout this whole mess. Even though he had pushed you away so many times, called you names, and ordered you around like a child, you felt connected to him. Like you wanted more than a simple friendship.

But the fact he was mourning his wife's death and all you could think was how good he looked with his shirt half-buttoned and his curls messy? God, you were a horrible person.

A dry chuckle leaves him, the sound echoing in the room, making you shiver. His demeaning attitude towards you has you shrinking, wanting the walls around you to swallow you whole as long as that meant you didn’t have to be alone in a room with him.

“So worried they call you down here out of everyone else?” He scoffs.

Ouch.

“I’m just trying to be here for you, you don’t have to be such a jackass.” You sneered at him.

Once the words left your mouth, you felt kinda bad. He was struggling with his wife’s death, and here you were being rude to him.

A small sigh left you as you stepped forward, hesitantly placing your palm on his bicep, trying to give him a little bit of comfort. It was the least you could do, right? You had managed to screw up your entire friendship with this man, but maybe you could turn it around starting… now?

As he feels your touch on his bicep, he turns to you quickly in response— almost as a reflex— and presses you against the table aggressively. A yelp leaves you as you find yourself being cornered by the large man, looking up at him in shock.

Never mind, jeez.

“You wanna be here for me?” He growled, his hand going to hold your throat, not squeezing but keeping it there as a warning not to cross him.

You give him a shaky nod, not knowing what to say or do that wouldn’t cause his temper to blow. It already blew.. But you knew what he was capable of, and you were scared of getting on his bad side more than you already were.

“Use your words.”

“Yeah, I wanna help you.” You press your lips together nervously, giving him a hesitant nod.

His eyes darken, looking you up and down and weighing the options. He hums lowly, his hands slowly wrapping around your waist, his fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt.

“Huh.” He can’t help but smile at you, but not a sweet one. A mocking grin. You shuddered.

“How about you start off by bending over that desk then? Since you wanna be good for me so badly.” He laughs darkly, flipping you around smoothly and kicking the back of your knee.

You stumble slightly and find yourself bending over the edge of the desk, a huff leaving you as you flinch in surprise. Instinctively, you try and straighten yourself but he keeps one of his hands pressed on your lower back.

“What are you doing? You know this isn’t what I meant—“ You say breathlessly, not having the power to fight back for some odd reason. The position had you tingling between your legs, your stomach in knots and your mouth dry.

You felt ashamed to be so into this. He was coping in an extremely unhealthy manner— but could you even stop him if you tried? Did you want to?

He ignores your words and grasps the back of your jacket, pulling it off and leaving you in your spaghetti-strapped tank top. It was hot in the prison, could you blame yourself for dressing in thinner clothing?

“Always dressed like a fuckin’ slut, begging for attention from me. Think I don’t notice? Hmm? How you’re always nagging me and trying your damnest to spend time with me?” His words leave him harshly as he leans over to push your hair over your shoulder, leaving your back empty for him without any distractions.

“Don’t say that.” You mutter softly, eyes fluttering as you feel his breath brush over your skin. Goosebumps appeared on your smooth skin, lips pressing together to conceal the heavy exhale you wanted to release.

“Why? Because you know I’m right?” He chuckles dryly. His hands rub over your back, grabbing the end of your top and pulling it up to bunch over your chest. Your heart skips a beat and you try to pull away, but he only pulls you closer, pressing his crotch firmly against your butt. He sighs in relief at the friction, grinding subtly.

The next few minutes are him just grinding against you from behind, muttering a mean ‘shut up’ whenever you’d let out a noise. This was for him. He didn’t care about you— didn’t care that he was leaving you needy and aching, all he wanted was to relieve himself.

“Take your pants off.” He grumbles, leaning back just a few inches to unbuckle his belt. He smoothly pulls it out of his jean loops, and then unzips his fly and pulls his jeans down. He’s fast and aggressive, and soon enough his hard cock is pressing against his lower tummy, his tip red and throbbing.

You blink in surprise, but you try and process his words quickly. Okay. He wants your pants off. This was for him to feel better, just take your damn pants off, dumbass. Don’t make his day worse.

Shakily, you pull your pants down to your ankles, your butt in front of him with your panties hugging your curvy hips. He stares down at you, eyes narrowing at the sight of the damp spot on your panties.

“Slut.” He kicks your legs open with his foot before landing a harsh slap against your pussy, making you cry out. Your brows furrow as you try to suppress your noises as he keeps going at it, his rough palm delivers harsh strikes to your sensitive area.

“O-Ow— Rick!” You whine, wiggling your butt as the slaps have you growing more and more wet. This was so embarrassing!

“Had I known you like gettin’ that pussy slapped I would have done it a lot sooner, sweetie.” He coos mockingly, a low snicker leaving his throat. He parts his hand from your panties. His large fingers grasp into your panties and pull them to the side, nudging your legs further apart and aligning himself with you.

“Take a deep breath, baby.” He huffs before thrusting himself inside you with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Your body tenses immediately, eyes watering at the large stretch your insides felt at the intrusion.

You immediately let out a shaky cry, clawing at the table for something to hold onto as you try and adjust to the feeling. His girth was thick, ripping you apart. The lack of foreplay and prep had you wincing.

“Awww, did I hurt ya’? Poor thing, little hole must burn sooo much.” His words sounded so mean, his dark eyes gazing down at your figure. He scanned each inch of your body. Your arch, your hips, waist, your hair— it all looked so good. He wanted to ruin you.

You struggle to speak as you feel him sit nice and snug inside you, your sight going blurry. You whimper like a pathetic puppy into the desk, the cold steel making you cringe and squirm. If he was gonna force himself in your pussy, couldn’t he of at least done it somewhere more comfy?

“S-Screw you,” You groan lowly, your eyes already rolling back. And he hasn’t even started to move yet.

“Mhmm, s’okay sweet girl, I’ll get there.” He hushed you gently. Your doughy flesh is so soft to his rough palms, making him smile as he grips your waist a little tighter. He uses your waist to hold you down as he starts to slowly pull out, leaving just the tip before slamming himself back inside. Not even a rag in your mouth could stop the moan that leaves you, your body wincing in a mix of pain and pleasure.

The next few minutes are messy and full of whimpering and shushing, your body quivering as he keeps thrusting into your hole like there’s no tomorrow. You were just a stress relief for him at the moment— a pretty face with a tight cunt he could fuck for hours.

Yeah, he was mean to you even before he decided to fuck you in this boiler room, but that was only because he didn’t know how to handle his emotions around you! You were a sweet young girl with a cute face and a good rack of tits, always trying to talk to him when he had a wife and a son, could he even interact with you without getting scolded by Lori?

He let out a shaky grunt as he slams his hips into you over and over again, watching your perfect ass jiggle at the force he put into you. Your noises were perfect, he had spent probably hours imagining how you’d sound with him inside you. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had imagined you while he was in bed with Lori. He was a horrible husband, but he blamed you for it. You were the reason of his lack of loyalty, so he may as well punish you for it. You were pretty much asking for it the second you came downstairs with that pretty face.

“Fuck, fuck,” He groans, bending over to press his chest flush against your back and pressing himself against you. He wanted you to feel every damn inch of him, feel how deep he was inside your dumb little pussy and how he made you feel.

“You feel that? Huh? Feel how fuckin’ deep I am inside that needy pussy? Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart, must feel so good, right?” He shushes your cries as he manages to push his cock deeper, his fat head brushing against your sweet spot that has you clenching down.

“Mhm, feels so good.” You sniffle. He giggled lowly at how pathetic you sounded, almost feeling the urge to comfort you for a second.

He’s wanted this for so long. Half the reason why he was spiraling after Lori’s death was because of the agonizing guilt he felt for still fantasizing about you when he had a whole newborn waiting for him. But now he had you, and he was not gonna let you go, and even if you begged and cried— he had already sunk his claws(cock) deep inside you.

His hand reaches to the front of your neck to grasp it and pull you tighter against him, giving your neck a little squeeze. He hums in approval at how your body tightens around him, his hips picking up speed.

“Good, good, jus’ like that, good girl,” He mumbled, squeezing his hand around your neck just a tiny bit more, loving the expression that fell over your face. A few more long minutes of him inflicting a fast and rough pace that expresses his self-projecting hatred towards you pass, the both of you out of breath and sweating.

“Can I cum? Please?” You whisper shakily, a soft moan coming from you as his thrusts continue. Your lips quiver and struggle to choke out words as you feel him repeatedly slam into your g-spot, eyes watering from the pleasure and your legs going wobbly.

“Oh, oh please, Rick—!” A loud moan escapes your throat before you have time to hold it back. You had been stripped down to a cheap whore bent over a table, but you didn’t care, it felt so good.

He answers your question by squeezing your throat, reaching forward to rub your clit. You clenching down on him has him groaning and almost stuttering with his thrusts, brows furrowing as he starts to get a little sloppy with his rhythm.

Without wasting any time, you feel yourself cumming hard around his cock and spasming, crying out at the force. A few more tears slip as you whimper onto the table, shaky hands grasping at anything to hold onto it.

A crooked grin paints his face as he gazes down at your shaky figure, slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of your leaky hole.

He hums and gently picks you up and sits you down on top of the desk, parting your thighs open and pressing the cum back inside you. Your eyes widen slightly in shock as his large finger shoves itself back inside you, making you cry out at the sensitivity you felt.

“R-Rick,” You attempt to plead before he rudely shushes you, crumbling apart as he fingers you open brutally. More tears stream as he watches with an amused glint, taking in the sight of you crying as he shoves his fingers inside your pussy violently.

“You can take it, shush, be a good girl.” He mumbles, sliding them in and out smoothly without any stop, his other hand going to rub at your spent clit. He almost felt bad for you, but then he remembered you were the little brat making him think like an unloyal husband— and he resumed with his torture.

Once he has you coming apart on his fingers again, he slides them out of you and whistles meanly, smirking at his slick-covered fingers. He maintains eye contact with you as he brings them up to your mouth, tapping them against your lips.

“Please don’t.” You whine, trembling in embarrassment. Could this get any more humiliating?!

“Shut up and be a good fuck toy.” He grunts. You shrivel and slowly part your lips, taking his wet fingers and sucking gently, your eyes fluttering shut as you didn’t want to look him in the eye while doing this.

After cleaning his fingers, he parts from you and gives you a once over, scowling.

“You’re not too bad when you’re not being an annoying fuck, y’know. Maybe you should bend over for me more often.” He sniggers, pulling his jeans back up and buckling his belt back on. He tidies up his appearance and gives you a side-eye.

“I’m so telling Hershel.” You grumble, struggling to pull your pants back on with limping legs. He rolls his eyes and aggressively tugs them back on for you. You flinch at the force and almost stumble onto your ass but you eventually have your clothes back on you because of his help. You give him an awkward smile, and he just glares at you in return.

“…I guess you could say I did help you, right?” You grin sheepishly, before gasping softly as he pulls you in for a kiss. He mutters a small “Shut up,” against your lips before interlocking his with yours, his hands wrapping around your waist and pressing your body flush against his.

He parts slowly from you, a small saliva trail showing before dissolving mid-air. He stares down at you, before nudging you in the direction of the exit.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, kay? You tell a soul and I’ll shove it in your butt next time, brat.” He scoffs, turning away and gazing back at the wall like the depressed old man he is.

You can’t help but smile as you walk away.

Next time, huh?

You were a little delusional, but why the hell not?

[lunajay33]

Where are You Part.5

•🍃🌑🕊️🧟‍♀️•

Summary: You’ve been with Daryl since you were teenagers having a lovely little girl and another on the way but then the apocalypse happens and you’re left by yourself with your daughter and unborn child, will you ever find you husband again? Mean while Daryl is with a group that has no idea about his family

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warnings: Usual twd violence, pregnancy

Part.4

•Masterlist•

•Daryl’s Pov•

Watching her scream in pain killed me, feeling Harlow shake in my arms broke me even more, but hearing the one I love cry to god to not take our baby is what really took me out, like the air was ripped from my lungs

She passed out and I couldn’t help but scream at Hershel to fix her but Maggie calmed me down hearing Harlow cry and pull on my shirt

“Daddy stop you’re scaring me” she whimpers as she curls up in my lap, I rub her back until she settles and her breathing evens out, Hershel keeps running tests and I can’t help but gnaw at my fingers anxiously

She always wanted a family together, two kids, a boy and a girl and after everything that’s happened this was the last thing she was holding onto from the old world, something she could still hope for, she’s always been the sunshine one in our relationship but I can see it fading everyday and it kills me knowing I can’t give her everything she wants

“It’s not looking good son” Hershel sighs in despair as he takes out the stethoscope from his ears and my heart plummets

“What’s wrong?”

“The baby’s heart, it’s weak, I don’t have proper equipment but from my opinion I’m guessing with all the stress and trauma her body has been going through it taken a toll on the baby, she’s going to have to be bed ridden if she doesn’t relax she’ll go into labour premature and the baby will be at risk” I wanna punch something, I wanna kill the bastard that been hurting her if it wasn’t for Rick and Dale, I wanna…..I wanna cry and hold my girls and never let them feel another day of pain

If it wasn’t for y/n my life could’ve gone done a different path, could’ve followed in Merle’s foot prints and sell drugs and just hope around from place to place, even with my shitty home life she was always there promising me that one day we’ll have our own home that’ll be a happy place and she made sure that came true and I love her everyday because of what she’s given me

I get up pulling back the bed sheets laying Harlow down and covering them both as I sat back down on the chair I know I won’t be getting a lick of sleep until she’s up

“I love ya” I whisper holding her hand in mine

•Y/n Pov•

I wake up still exhausted like the sleep drained me more than it helped me, I turn my head seeing Daryl right by my side, brushing my stray hairs back

“How’re ya feelin?” He asks his voice husky

“I’m tired, how’s……is the baby okay?” I ask nervous

“He’s weak, Hershel says yer bed ridden until he comes, ya got too much stress sunshine” I nod just relieved I still have a chance with my little boy

“But will we be okay?” I ask squeezing his hand for reassurance

“I wish I could say ya, but Hershel’s worried, imma do what I can ta ease yer stress” I cover my eyes trying to compose myself, this isn’t what I envisioned

“This isn’t right Daryl, just take me back to our home we can live out our lives there right the walkers should be gone, we can make a garden I…..I wanna go home” his eyes soften and he sighs

“I know, I wanna go back too, but ya know we can’t” the room fell silent except for Harlows snores

“Can I just be alone for a moment” he nods leaning down to place a gentle kiss to my lips then picking up a still sleeping Harlow and left the room

What am I suppose to do

•

It’s been a week since Hershel’s advised me to stay resting, Daryl’s been updating me on what’s been going on, this guy Randel they’ve brought back and how the group can’t decide what to do with him, saying Shane gone off the deep end

It’s late at night now and I hear panicked chatter out in the living room, I wobble out to see what’s going on

“What’s happening?” Daryl comes to my side squeezing my hip

“The barns on fire, Randel he’s dead and Shane Rick and Carl are missing”

“Would you go look for them?” Lori asks Daryl and I can’t help but glare

“He’s not your pet, why should he risk his life when you should be looking for your own family”

“It’s alright I’ll be back fer ya” Daryl states trying to calm me

“Promise”

“Promise ya, get ready” he leaves and I take Harlow to the room packing up our bags and getting dressed properly

“Mommy what’s going on I’m scared” Harlow asks as I zip up her sweater

“It’ll be okay we might have to leave but you’re a big strong girl right!” She nods

“Okay whatever happens you don’t let go of my hand no matter what”

“Alright mommy” I pull on the backpack and wait on the porch but things go south fast, walkers are everywhere, people are being separated and I can’t find anyone after a while they all drive off and Harlow and I just get pushed farther and farther into the woods

“We gotta run” she holds my hand tight and we run through the dark woods thankfully only a few walkers noticed us so we had a chance to out run them but how will I find Daryl again, we can’t go back there

Exhausted after running most of the night, day breaks and we find an abandoned convenience store and hold up in there for a while to rest

Laying out a blanket for Harlow to lay down I find some food on the shelves and we eat before resting

He should have stayed but now I may never see him again and after everything we’re separated again

For months it’s just the three of us, luckily barely coming across any walkers but Harlow was only little and all this walking was exhausting her, and carrying her was out of the options while I’m 8 months pregnant, almost due any second

We come across a little waterfall around a broken down structure

“We can rest here for the night sweetie” I gasp when I feel a pop and my legs become soaked, no no no not yet I can’t give birth alone

“Mom what wrong?”

“It’s your baby brother he’s coming” I groan as I see her quickly pull out a blanket laying it on the ground but a still standing stone wall

“Lay down, I’ll help you” she just turned 6 a few weeks ago and this isn’t how a 6 year old girl should be living, but she was still my sweet little girl and always wanted to help

“This is going to be a lot sweetie okay just don’t be scared your little brother will be here sooooooooon” I cry at the end as another contraction runs through me

“It’s alright mommy just breath, uncle Hershel said you need to try to stay calm” I nod remembering all the instructions he gave me incase I was alone like this

I try to be quiet still aware that walkers could be around, Harlow helped me get ready, as she gave me water every now and then and rubbing my belly

“You’ve got this momma! Just breathe and push!” I could help but smile at her cuteness before pushing trying not to scream at the pain

I keep pushing readying to catch him, and with one final effort the pressure is gone and I catch him in my hands bringing him up to my chest, Harlow took off her sweater and wrapped it around him taking a cloth and wetting it and wiping his face gently

“You did it! He’s so cute mommy” she smiles as he whines opening his eyes thanking whatever god that he’s not wailing

We both cleaned him up dressing him in the onesie I took from the start of the apocalypse and a little beanie to cover his brown whispy hair

I handed him to Harlow covering them both up so I could take care of myself, exhausted I manage to clean up blessed to not have torn, setting a little fire up infront of us and laying back down holding them both close as we all huddled under the blankets

“Do you think he looks like daddy?” She asks tired as I take him in my arms

“Just like him, he looks just like when I first met your dad, so cute” he babbles a bit before falling to sleep, my heart felt whole all I needed now was Daryl

•Daryl’s Pov•

After the farm fell I couldn’t find them hoping they’d gotten in with someone else I made my way to the highway seeing the others, I look around and neither of them are there

“No one got them out?!” I yell

“They got separated from us, last I saw them they were running into the woods” Tdog said as I get back on my bike

“Daryl they won’t be there, you found them once you’ll find them again” I was so angry and so heart broken knowing they’re out there alone again

Months went on and i looked for them everyday, and everyday i came back with nothing was another stab to my chest, we thankfully found the prison and got it all settled, after the lose of Lori and Judith on our hands it reminded me of when Harlow was born so small and fragile and y/n is out there due any day and anything could go wrong

“Thinking about Harlow?” Maggie asks as she sits next to me while I fed little ass kicker

I nod feeling that weight on my chest

“You’ll find them you know, she’s a fighter and she’ll do anything to get back to you” I nod again smiling at her words before she takes Judith so I can go looking for them again

I’ve gotta find them

•

Part.6

Taglist: @rainymads @stories4you04-x @mylle5 @nessatea @onerockontheway @moncherriis @writer-ann-artist @itsjustmeandmyanxiety @yoonjisgirl @remuslupinscumslutt @rockstarlover123 @bigbaldheadname @azanoni @deansapplepie @itsmytimetoodream @holb32 @whump-loverz @pollito-chicken @ankhmutes @nadeleine888 @prettylittlepsycho03 @daryldixmedown @holdmytesseract @snackthatsmilesbackchlldren

[glossykissies]

Yearning for more Shane x bunny x puppy :3. Bunny and puppy making bad decisions around camp and Shane has to fix their mistakes perchance

they always kind of loved getting in trouble with shane on a slow day. it helped passed the time. ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ∩∩ ˂ ꒱ྀི১

he’s got them leaned up against a fence, stood infront of the two guilty girls with his hands clasped at his front, gait wide.

“i told you walkin’ around like this ain’t right. it ain’t safe and it’s — this is hershel’s property alright y’cant just—”

he drones on, as bun n’pup attempt to keep the giddy grins off their faces. they’d gotten a hold of a bunch of bikini tops and had decided to walk around the farm wearing the tops with tiny denim shorts to accompany (which shane was certain they’d manually cut to be even shorter than they originally were) pup had chosen one that was blue gingham, whilst bunny was bouncing around in a pink number that was clearly a size too small. it was a real display.

“but it’s hot!” pup whines, earning a giggle from the other girl who clings to her arm happily and shane licks his lips in frustration, stepping up to the girls and gripping pups jaw gently.

“you ain’t gonna interrupt me when i’m talking, yeah? s’aint the playboy mansion you girls oughta change into something a little more appropriate alright? go on, go.” he lets go, pulling them both gently off the fence and sending them off with a soft slap to each of their asses as they pass him on the way back to their tent.

he knew he was way too soft on them, scrubbing a hand over his buzzed head as he watches them trot off happily. he’d hoped they’d atleast done a little sulking when he eventually traipsed after them to check in, instead finding them rolling around unclothed in the tent, worked up from shane’s little scolding.

“christ, just can’t keep your clothes on huh?” he sighs, defeated in the doorway watching them rut into eachothers glossy mounds.

“d’ddy s’not fair — we didn’t know you were comin’” bunny tries, drunk with lust as she flutters her eyelashes up at him from her hunched position, tits pressed to her less concerned partner.

“yeah well— guess we gotta have another talk when we’re done here.” he dismisses, no longer denying himself the pleasure as he makes quick work of removing his belt, tossing it aside to pull his hardening cock from his jeans and staring the girls down, approaching as he pumps himself.

they continue to hump away at the encouragement, shane’s tongue between his lips as he watches, occasionally chiming in with a disapproving tsk and a comment to the likes of “bad ass girls, i swear.”

the rolling of bun’s hips as she works her cunt against pups are stilled violently when she feels shane shove her forward, hand on her back as she falls chest to chest with pup with a squeal, the man skilfully slotting his cock between their aching slits, instructing them to grind once more. “cant let you have all the fun. y’all pissed me off after all.”

[rickydoodahgrimez]

─────── ✰ how rick is with pregnant!reader

so you two could meet before or after the apocalypse idrc

but i think you get pregnant around the prison era, not early on but like in season 4 when people get sick

i'm acc not surprised you got pregnant since you and rick are dirty dogs and doing the boombaya almost every second

you two are acc worse than glenn and maggie

so i'm thinking a few days before the disease, you already started throwing up and rick's already worried but you already start to suspect that your pregnant

when people are starting to get the sickness, rick thinks you have it and tells you to quarantine to get better and you have a kind of argument and then you exclaim that your pregnant

rick doesn't even know how to feel

all he thinks about in that moment is lori and how she ended up and he doesn't want that to happen to you

so unfortunately, since i like drama, instead of rick comforting you, he walks out of the room without saying anything

you basically think that he hates you and you start crying and maggie comes into the room and starts comforting you

you explain the situation at hand and being the sweet girl she is, maggie says 'why would he hate you?' 'he would never'

since your pregnant and hormones are all over the place, you start being sassy and maggie is like 'bitch be so fr'

twenty minutes later, somehow glenn knows 😊

and since everyone knows that glenn can't keep a secret, twenty minutes later everyone knows 😊

you thought that you would be mad but for some reason, your not

your acc kind of relieved that your not the only one knowing of the inhabitant inside your stomach

it's now nightfall and rick sees you sitting on the grass, on watch and he decides to sit next to you

he'd seemed to regain his mind to come and talk to you after a long talk from hershel

he then tells you that he's scared if you'll end up like lori and then you reassure him you won't blah blah blah

now that the angst is gone let's talk about rick with you 😼

10,000x more protective

you're not allowed on runs or on watch anymore, you just have to stand there and look beautiful 😊

you acc find it annoying because no one's even disagreeing with him. helping out with farming? fuck no. killing walkers by the fence? fuck no. going on runs? fuck no. taking care of the animals? fuck no.

you honestly can't do anything except do story time which makes you want to kill yourself

other than that, i feel like you start showing before everyone gets split up because of the g*vernor

and i'm telling you, rick goes FERAL

like you can't even walk past him without him grabbing your waist and taken you up to the guard tower

you two use the guard tower more than glenn and maggie at this point 🤷‍♀️

but also, i feel like he would be so gentle with you, rubbing your back and holding your hair up as you vomit and him having a hand at bottom of your back as you two walk together

the angst is back :)

honestly, i want you to be separated from rick and carl when the prison goes down but even i know that rick won't let you out of his sight

by now your like two or three months pregnant (i'm not good at maths)

and since your on the road, your injured (only a bit or rick would go feral), your under the hot sun and you currently have no food or water

so there's symptoms obviously 😼

you feel lightheaded, you feel dizzy but you obviously don't tell rick because you're a STUBBORN bitch

but because he loves you so much, he already notices :)

and so get ready bitch, because guess what, he fucking picks you up BRIDAL STYLE

MY MANS BLEEDING, HE HAS INJURIES SND CAN BARELY EVEN WALK

and he picks you up like you weigh nothing to him?? every when you're pregnant?

bro js fucking impregnate me already

so now we're at terminus and when the guy on the roof to line up in front of the container, and he's pointing the gun at your head

and rick is death staring him. he wanted to put that mf six feet for even looking at you

then rick, daryl and them lot get taken out of of the container for their heads to be chopped off yh and ricks mouths 'i love you' as he is forced to walk out

you guys leave terminus after hearing bombs and shi and you meet up with judith and you are cuddling her to your chest, protecting her the whole time and rick js wants to impregnate you again 😊

then we see gabriel and the church and shi and even before gabriel talks to you rick is already shooting him a glare, wrapping an arm around your waist

i can't really think about anything else that happens at the church except from when those dickheads who ate bobs leg cake to the church and he could barely speak about you on your baby bump before he was getting killed :)

aaron comes next and he says that he left medication medicine that will help with the baby and omg rick is giving him the deadliest glare

when aaron tells him that he can trust him, he's like bitch be so fr? like im going to risk the mother of my baby's life?

so he uses the applesauce that he says it's for judith on him :)

when the rest come back form them checking if what aaron says is legit, rick guided you to a small area and he's acc bare nervous

he's fidgeting with his fingers, biting his lip, running his hands through his hair and you finally find out why :)

then, he does some long ass speech ab how much you are to him, how excited he is to be a father to your child, then he pulls out a ring :))

he doesn't get down on one knee, saying how fucking rom com it is and they're in the middle of the fucking apocalypse

you have celebratory sex after :)) you guys try to be very quiet tho :)

there's not that much more that i can write about but when you get to alexandria, your water breaks :)

while you're in labour, your screaming that rick will never touch you again (you know that's a lie) while he winces as you squeeze his hand while he muttered praises to you

it's a girl :)

you guys actually think of a wholesome name for her (unlike carl who named his baby sister after his fucking middle school teacher. like what the fuck??)

you guys live a happy life with your baby (but then you get pregnant again in a few weeks because you can't keep your hands off this fine specimen)

im going feral :)

[starlessea]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙈𝙚𝙣𝙙 [𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙡 𝘿𝙞𝙭𝙤𝙣 𝙓 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧]

Chapter 3: Catatonia

Series Masterlist: The Ties That Mend

Summary: Three-hundred-and-ninety-six days after the outbreak, you are discovered in an abandoned community college, covered in filth and barely able to speak a word. Despite the showers (multiple) and rehabilitation attempts (also multiple), it's apparent that your mind is elsewhere. Beyond saving.

This new world is chaos, but you're lucky to find good people in it. More so than any is a man named Daryl, patient enough to let you put yourself back together—one stitch at a time.

The medical bay smells faintly of antiseptic. You sit stiff on the edge of an examination table, a paper sheet crinkling under your jeans; you try not to rip it as you readjust. Before you, the doctor—former vet, as he corrected—rifles through supplies with practiced care.

“Any trouble sleeping?” 

The question weighs heavy on your chest. From anyone else, it would sting, but Hershel’s tone isn’t discriminatory. He has no knowledge of last night—wasn’t there at breakfast, either. He didn’t notice the faces too tired to hide their disdain for you. To him, you’re just another patient. 

It’s ironic. The vet is the first person here not to look at you like an animal.

“Some,” you reply, after a moment.

It’s a lie, of course. A big fat one. 

Back at the college, sleep was a thing that took you only when it was lucky. Even then, it was never peaceful. It was something stolen in fits and starts as you held the door shut from whatever lurked on the other side. Here, those nights still haunt you. 

“Just a new place,” you add. “I’ll g—get used to it.” 

Hershel doesn’t press. Whether he believes you or not, he drops the subject for now, opting instead to examine your hands. You flinch at first, instinct pulling you back. But the warmth in his old fingers seeps through your skin, coaxing you to unclench your palms.

He studies the callouses lining them: the handiwork of your hatchet. 

You feel dismembered without it. 

After the last three-hundred-and-ninety-seven days, you could hardly remember a time you before it. It had been with you since the outbreak. Ever since you smashed that glass box near the fire escape, in search of anything to defend yourself. 

You’d been near catatonic when Rick had pried it from your hands the night before. “There are children here,” he’d reasoned, conjuring an image of a boy in a Sheriff’s hat—too curious for his own good. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to refute him; you’d nearly taken the heads of two of his group already. Even now, Daryl’s expression still burns behind your eyes, not particularly angry nor pitiful. Just sort of… Disappointed? 

Somehow that was worse.

“You’re a lucky one, my dear,” Hershel notes, his thumbs brushing over the rough patches between your fingers. “To be in this condition… It’s nothing short of miraculous.” 

You raise a brow, trying to discern any humour in his words. What about you could possibly be lucky? 

“Besides the malnourishment and sores,” Hershel continues, his smile so genuine you almost don’t believe it, “you’re healthy.”

Healthy. The word sounds foreign. Impossible. You can’t be healthy—not in the head, at least.

You say nothing, choosing only to watch as Hershel pulls a small jar from his medical kit. He unscrews the lid to reveal a pungent salve. As he spreads it over your hands, the sting is sharp, biting—but like everything else these days, it fades quickly into nothingness.

“I’d suggest bone broth for the first couple of meals. Meat will be too rich,” he says, matter-of-factly.

Grimacing, you nod; you’d already discovered that. 

But as Hershel works, you can’t help but notice the kindness in his actions. He applies the salve with gentle ministrations, retreating out of your space as soon as he’s done. It’s refreshing. There’s something about him that calms you. Whether it’s the crinkles of his eyes, or the way he rounds his sentences, it has you speaking before the words have even taken shape in your head. 

“Hershel?” 

His gaze flickers to yours.

“What do you know about…” You hesitate, swallowing hard. “The m—mind? Can you fix it?”

His expression softens, though the weight of his answer is clear before he speaks. “Unfortunately, that’s one of the toughest things to mend,” he says. “Takes time. Patience.”

How many days? you want to ask, but your better judgement cautions against it. That’s not the right question. This isn’t something that can be measured by tally marks on a wall. 

“Where do I start?” you ask instead.

There’s a pause. Hershel chooses his next words with care. “A good night’s sleep,” he says. “Then ten. Then fifty.”

You try not to let his answer deflate you.

Does he know you can barely manage one?

“Those tremors, too,” Hershel leans back slightly, considering you, “They’re no good. Have you burning through energy quicker than you can replenish it.” 

He takes a second to deliberate, pawing at the white hairs of his beard. Then, something flashes behind his eyes—a recollection. An idea. “You know what they used to suggest to old war vets?”

You keep quiet, waiting.

“Repetitive action,” he explains. “Something you can do without thinking.”

His raised brow prompts for an answer.

 “Guitar.”

It comes to you immediately, dredged up from another life. Free classes at the college, teaching music to a bunch of ragtags dumped by their parents after church. You never loved it—it was just something to do.

Hershel chuckles softly. “Haven’t seen many of those around these parts, I’m afraid. What about something a little more… accessible? Sketching, knitting—”

“I can sew,” you interrupt.

The admission feels small but significant. It was your mother’s trade, just poor seamstress trying to make ends meet. She’d only passed down two things to you when she died: her needlework and her debt. 

“That’ll be handy,” Hershel replies. He makes no show of it, but you catch him reaching over to open the drawer beside him. After some calculated rummaging, his hand emerges with a biscuit tin—an odd find amongst prescription bottles and bandages. As he pops the lid open, you’re met with a familiar sight: a sewing kit filled with buttons, thread, and patches of mismatched cloth.

Hershel locks eyes with you before speaking, “This is what I want you to do. Each time you thread this needle, visualise yourself letting go of whatever it is that’s holding onto you.” He places it into your palm; it’s a little rusted, but you’ve seen worse. “I want you to practice it—each stitch, mending those parts you want to fix.”

You glance between him and the needle, trying to process his words.

“If you ever feel like you’re losing control—which you will—I want you to imagine you are here. Threading the needle. Safe, focused.” Before you can reply, Hershel plucks it from you, dropping it back into the small biscuit tin for safe keeping. With the lid secured, he gestures for you to put it in your pocket.

“But first, you need to clean yourself up. You might not be sick now, but staying covered in filth,” he says, taking a pause to look you up and down, “it’s only a matter of time.” 

You find yourself agreeing.

It’s strange, you think. In this moment, the old man could tell you anything—to stick your hand in flames or jump from a tall building—and you fear you would. It’s a dangerous countenance he has. One that instills trust. 

You don't argue when Hershel offers to walk you back through the winding corridors to Cell Block D. His gait makes you feel a little guilty—he's missing a leg, after all—but your appreciation for his presence outweighs it.

As you pass by the windows overlooking the courtyard, the air carries the faint smell of damp concrete, rusted metal, and people—too many people, their voices filtering in with the breeze. You prepare yourself to face their scrutiny. The nicknames they thought you didn’t notice:

Loony Bin 

You had keen ears, and that one was loud.

In an obvious attempt at distraction, Hershel begins to tell you about his daughters. “You’ll like Maggie,” he says, a faint smile in his voice. “She’s strong—headstrong, sometimes—just like her mother. And you’ve already met her husband.” He notes the confusion on your face before adding, “Glenn.”

Your steps falter. Glenn. The realisation sinks in slowly as you draw the thread between them all. Hershel’s warmth, the glimmer of trust in his eyes—it wasn’t random. He had Maggie’s smile, Glenn’s optimism.

And you’d almost killed his son-in-law. 

“Though he might be off on some errand,” Hershel continues, oblivious to the tangle of thoughts in your mind. “That boy never sits still.” He then chuckles softly, like he’s sharing an inside joke. It does little to calm your nerves.

By the time you reach the entryway to Cell Block D, you’re already on edge. The low hum of voices carries through the open door, a stark contrast to the relative quiet of the medical bay. You spot a small group gathered near the common area—a brother-sister duo whose names you’ve already forgotten, Carol, Maggie, and a young woman you can’t quite place. 

“One of my girls will show you to the washroom,” Hershel announces, nodding towards the brunette in the corner. She offers a polite smile but seems less than thrilled at the prospect. “And this is my youngest—”

“Beth?” 

The name tears out of you before Hershel even finishes.

Across from you, she stands motionless. Unaware. There’s a good ten years between you—at least—but her face, though older and sharper, holds the same softness you remembered. You still see her as the kid who played piano, sang shy and did good. Beth Greene. You’re certain it’s her, recognised her from the recesses of your memory. Sweet, quiet Beth. Alive.

But she can’t be real—can she?

Her face is full of confusion at first. But that disappears the moment she takes a step forward, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Sweet Jesus,” she breathes, “Is that really you? What happened?”

You chew over the question: what happened? What didn’t? The answers feel too jagged, too large to fit into words. Your mind is racing, unraveling. She’s not supposed to be here. The auditorium—you’d been so sure. You’d seen them fall, heard the screams, the countless bodies. She’d been there. Hadn’t she?

Hadn’t she?

“Beth Greene?” you whisper again. You’re not even sure if it’s a question or a plea.

She moves again, tentative but willing to close the distance. “Oh my God,” she mutters. “It’s really is you.” Her fingers brush yours, grounding you to the moment, to her.

Beside you, Hershel clears his throat. “You two know each other?”

Beth retracts her hand to acknowledge him. “Yes, Daddy. She—” She glances back at you, taking in the sight. “She used to teach music at the old college. On Sundays. I used to beg to go.” 

 A silence lingers for a moment; you catch Maggie's stare, Carol's intrigue.

 “She could sing real good,” Beth adds, barely above a whisper.

Her words slam into you like a punch to the gut. You see it now—her sitting on the edge of the stage, pouring over sheet music in her lap.

Before you can say anything, her eyes are suddenly wide, frantic. They pin you in place. “Oh my goodness. Were you there?”

You try not to cringe, to give yourself away. But your silence speaks volumes.

“I think it's time our newest arrival took a shower,” Carol announces, shielding you from the question. “Here.”

 She hands Beth a set of clippers. They’re the old kind. You squeezed; they buzzed.

 “You’re going to have to crop that hair,” she says briskly, gesturing to you. “It’s too matted.”

You shoot her a look. Neither of you exchange any words, but you can tell Carol understands. You're thankful for her redirection. She's definitely good with children.

“No.”

Beth's voice brings you back to the moment. To the group of people and their prying eyes.

 “It was pretty,” she says, but it's mainly to herself. “I remember bein’ jealous, it was so long.” 

You look down at the tangles hanging over your shoulders, at the filth caked in the strands. You're not precious of it. In fact, you couldn’t care less.

 “It’s disgusting,” you counter. “I don’t want to turn p—people off their food.”

Beth shakes her head, her brows drawing together in protest. “Give me a day,” she says. “If I can’t fix it… we’ll shave it.”

Your eyes find the clippers in her hand before coming back up to meet her.

“One day,” she reasserts, her voice soft but firm.

One day. A single tally mark.

You nod.

—

It takes the full day.

Not just an hour or two. No quick fixes or shortcuts. It’s a full day of prying away the layers of filth that had buried themselves into you over the past three-hundred-and-ninety-seven days.

You’re sitting beneath her on a wooden chair in the corner of the washroom. The place is damp, steam rising from the water you’ve drained three times already. Your body aches from the scrubbing—you’ve lost count of the hours—and beneath your fingers, the skin feels almost new.

Then there was your hair…

At first, you thought it was futile; the clippers were a far easier alternative. But now, as the last few knots on your head give way under Beth’s patient fingers, you can hardly believe it. You’d gone through the prison's entire supply of shampoo. Four near-empty bottles now lined the edge of the sink, their contents spent in the battle against the god-knows-what was in your hair.

When you’d muttered an apology for using up so much, Beth had only waved you off. “Don’t worry about it,” she’d said casually. “Daryl and Michonne can find more.”

The thought made you wince; another burden, another thing you’d added to their list. But Beth hadn’t seemed bothered in the least. If anything, she worked with more determination, as if this—your restoration—was her personal mission.

But she never overstepped. 

Besides her odd instructions, “pass me that comb, tell me if it hurts, try not to move,” the two of you barely spoke. Beth had made the effort at first, but your mind was far too loud for her to get a word in edgeways.

When was the last time someone had touched you like this? When was the last time you’d let them? You can’t remember. It’s easier that way—to keep people at a hatchet’s length. Safer, too.

Yet, here she is. Beth Greene, picking you apart, piece by piece, like she’s unearthing something she’s determined to save.

Why?

The question gnaws at you as you sit there, letting her hands work through the last of the tangles. You can’t fathom what she sees in you that’s worth saving: a patchwork of sores and sins, held together by whatever instinct still clings to survival. Even now, you’re barely hanging on.

“Why weren’t you there that day?” you ask her.

The question’s out before you can stop it. Your heart pounds behind your ribs. 

“What?”

You swallow hard, forcing the words out again. “That Sunday. Why weren’t you there?”

Beth doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she resumes her work, her fingers methodical as she begins to braid a lock of hair. “My daddy wanted me to stay home,” she says eventually. “Maggie was sick, and he thought she needed me more.”

You nod, a hollow kind of relief settling in your chest. If she was there, she’d be rotting in the auditorium with the others. Those first few days, the faces all seemed to blend together—one corpse at a time. You’d been so sure she was among them. 

Her voice pulls you back. “I’m glad I wasn’t there,” she admits quietly. “But I hate that you were.”

You don’t reply.

“Was it bad?” 

You feel tremors picking at your skin as the memories come back to you. The screams. The blood. The bodies piled on that same stage where you used to hold concerts. Your throat tightens. “It was…” You pause, searching for a word that could do it justice. Somehow, none feel adequate. 

A bloodbath? Carnage? Despair?

“Hell,” you say finally, barely above a whisper.

This time, Beth stays silent. 

“Why are you doing this?” you press. The words come pouring out, circling the drain like four bottles of shampoo.

It’s been weighing on you the whole day. The girl behind you can barely be called an acquaintance. She’s just some kid you saw every other week for a-half-hour when her parents—like most folks—likely needed a break. 

She has no reason to be here.

Beth stills. You feel her hands rest on your scalp. “Because I remember what it’s like,” she finally answers. “To lose everything. To feel like there’s nothing left of you.”

As she reaches for her comb, you see it again: that scar on her wrist, too perfect and straight to be accidental. You don’t reply, but she doesn’t seem to expect you to. “You might not remember, but my aunt died a few years back,” she says softly; you hear Hershel in her voice. “The last thing I wanted to do after the funeral was go to that damn music class—sorry—but my daddy thought it’d be good for me. Couldn’t stop crying in the truck.”

You glance at her, something tugging at the edges of your memory.

“I don’t know if you did it on purpose,” she lets out a faint laugh, “but you sang a good song that day. My favourite. Did your best Dolly impression for all us kids.”

Beth ties off your braids with a gentle tug, stepping back to survey her work. “It brought some life back to me, you know? And I wanted to do the same for you.”

As she circles the wooden stool, coming into your view, you see the sincerity in her eyes. In truth, you could hardly remember it; the image was as foggy as the room in which the two of you stood. Did you even do it for her? Possibly. Or maybe you were hungover and Jolene just had it coming.

Either way, it had made her smile. And that was enough.

“Alright,” she says, nodding toward the mirror across the room. “Let’s see it.”

You hesitate. You’re not sure you want to see. Not yet. It’s just a mirror, you know, but you can’t help remembering the reflection you saw yesterday, at the end of the hall in Cell Block D. 

“Go on,” Beth urges, nudging your shoulder just enough to make you move.

You can’t avoid it. You shuffle closer, the tiled floor cool beneath your bare feet. The mirror looms before you, its surface slightly fogged from the lingering steam. For a second, you don’t look. You focus on your breathing, on the steady rise and fall of your chest.

Then, slowly, you lift your eyes.

The person staring back at you is familiar.

Your hair is neatly braided. Two long plaits trail down your back, each bound with a simple tie. The scent of lavender clings to you, fresh in contrast to the mould you’d grown used to. And the clothes—borrowed from Beth—fit like they belong to a version of yourself. 

She watches you, arms crossed, expectant. You catch her gaze in the mirror. “Well?” she asks, one brow arched in challenge. 

The outfit it nice, simple. The body in it could use some square meals. But overall, it's not bad. You’re more weedy now, all elbows and knees, but you could grow to accept this.

“It’s me,” you say.

Beth’s reflection joins yours as she sways slightly on the balls of her feet. “Yeah,” she agrees. “It is.”

The image holds you in place, locking you into this moment. Somehow, you’re still here. Not the person you were before, nor the hollow shadow you’ve been dragging behind you. Something in between. Someone half-stitched back together, the seams raw but holding.

Beth leans in. “So, what do you think?”

You glance down at your hands—rough but yours—and when you look back at the mirror, you almost don’t recognise the faint curve of your lips.

“It’ll do,” you say.

Beth laughs, and for a small moment, you feel it—something fitting into place.

— It's too damn late.

Daryl’s boots echo over the metal catwalk, one dull thud after another. He’d been hunting most of the afternoon, causing a ruckus out there in the woods. But now it's dark, quiet, and he's reminded just how little sleep he's gotten these last few days. How he'd kill to be one of these snoring bastards in the cells next door.

Last night was rough.

He'd cursed you at first, tossing and turning in his bed as he tried to shake the image of you curled up on the floor. At breakfast, too, he could barely stomach you. But as soon as he got out of those gates, into the world and the trees and everything beyond four concrete walls, he felt nothing.

Well, he felt something.

Just not the burning contempt he felt initially when the sun first shone into his eyes. This was different. He'd realised it some hours ago, during the time he spent tracking a deer. It was a small thing, barely enough to feed the kids, but once Daryl had it at end of his arrow, wide-eyed and frantic, he couldn't bring himself to shoot it.

 It's the first time he'd come back empty-handed from a hunt.

That stupid look on it's face reminded him of you.

Rick had filled him in earlier, told him that you were looking... different. Better, he’d said. Like some semblance of a woman now, instead of the half-dead thing Glenn had brought back from the brink.

Daryl doesn't know what he expected, but as he passes your cell—still illuminated by candle light—he's surprised by how much that change has settled in. You don't notice him, which gives Daryl time to survey you from afar; he knows better than to cross the threshold. You're sitting near the door, back straight, eyes wide, not a hint of sleep on you. No blankets, no covers—just you, focused on something in your lap.

You're wearing Beth's clothes, they fit better than Glenn's, and long, twin braids fall down your back. But the biggest change is your face, warm in the candle light—

It's less biting now.

Daryl almost doesn’t know what to say. No quips come to him, no bitterness held from the night before. Instead, he speaks honestly, “Ya look better.” He shifts on his feet, then adds, “Smell better, too.” 

A huff of dry air escapes him. Lavender. That’s new.

“You have Beth to thank,” you respond, without missing a beat.

Daryl blinks, thrown off by the reply. You knew he was there, and your stutter... It’s gone.

He should leave, he thinks.

But instead, he watches you fiddle with that fabric—sewing, he realises—and takes in the way your fingers work the needle. He knows nothing of the stitch you’re weaving; he’s more concerned by the fact your hands have finally stopped shaking. It's a kind of concentration, the same way he focuses when he hunts. Steady and unbroken. 

“Ya know,” he says after a long pause, “‘M pretty sure whatever tha’ is can wait.” He gestures at the remnants of a shirt in your lap. “Ya should get some sleep.”

His words are meaningless; you don’t even look up. But when you shake your head, it's with certainty. “If I do, you won’t.”

Daryl scowls. The memory of earlier—of how you looked trembling in the dark—flashes in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” you add. Then, using your sewing needle, you to draw a line in the air across your throat.

Daryl would’ve laughed at that, usually. But not from you. He doesn’t know you like that. Hell, he’s still not sure you won’t decapitate him the next chance you get. “Quit sayin’ sorry,” he says instead, more sharply than he meant to.

“Sor—” You catch yourself. “It won’t happen again,” you finish. 

And it can’t, Daryl thinks. He’s made damn sure of that. Rick’s got that thing reserved for firewood only—a duty he’ll make sure you’ll never have.

But he doesn't tell you that, so instead the moment stretches out, the soft scrape of your needle stitching through fabric. He should really leave now. Yet, his tired eyes catch something on the cell wall across from him, pinning him in place.

One faint, vertical line, followed by chicken-scratch words he struggles to decipher:

Loony Bin 

His eyes flicker over them before snapping back to you. He’d only said it once—muttered it under his breath at breakfast—but he had a feeling you’d heard. If not, you’d surely felt it in his stare.

He swallows thick. “Ya best be careful,” he says, trying to think of something—anything that comes to mind. He tries a joke. “A head ain’t something ya can just sew back on.”

The laugh that follows catches him off guard. A dry sound, but genuine. It cuts through the tension like scissors through silk, and seems to surprise you, too.

Daryl clears his throat. “Get some sleep for real,” he says, stepping back from the door. He tries to sound like he’s giving an order, but it comes out more like a suggestion. “Tomorrow, Rick wants ya to learn ‘bout this place. How we all keep it runnin’.”

He’s not sure what the hell you’ll be doing; he can’t imagine you playing well with others. Maybe watch duty. Something distant. Something that’ll keep you out of the way.

But then, before he can leave, he tests his luck. “You know how to shoot?” he asks. Tiredness is thick in his voice. “Could use more eyes on them walls.”

You pause, and for a moment, Daryl thinks he’s gone too far. He’s half-joking, but there’s something about you that makes him feel like a kid again. A kid too stupid for his own good, who wants to push, prod, and only find out where the line is once he's crossed it.

You look up. Daryl catches the flash of something in your eyes—defiance, maybe. It’s gone as quick as it surfaces. “No,” you say, quietly. “I can’t.”

Daryl’s shrug is automatic. He hadn’t expected you to say yes, wouldn’t trust you if you did. “Mm. A’right.” 

He leaves without a goodbye, halfway to his cell before he hears it. That flicker of a voice calling out to him:

“But I’m pretty good with a hatchet.”

A/N This chapter was bloody massive. I deliberated on the structure for ages, but I felt each part was necessary to paint the picture I'm going for. In all honesty, I was a little worried you guys would think ''there's not enough Daryl'' and considered interjecting more of him. But at this stage, it's just not realistic. It doesn't feel natural. I want each of their interactions to mean sometime, so please be patient with me as I set them up. And let me know your thoughts -do you appreciate this style? The relationships she's building with others? I'm keen to know :) As always, thanks for reading! x

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld @captain-shannon-becker @i-doutt-it @bookies16 @brianna-merlim @staley83 @insaneintheemembranev2 @dummylovewp

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TW: cussing, early seasons Daryl, angst, descriptions of walkers (Zombies), firearms, kidnapping, canon level racism, Merle

Part 13

Dead Weight - Part 14

The hum of low conversation bounced between the concrete walls. A tension hung in the air thicker than the smell of cooked beans and bread.

The group had gathered—Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Carol, Hershel, Beth, and now you—clustered at the tables.

Merle Dixon sat on the far end, posture loose like he owned the place. His prosthetic clinked against the metal seat as he leaned back, grinning like a cat in a doghouse.

Daryl sat beside him, arms crossed, eyes trained on the floor. He hadn’t said a word since they'd walked in.

You moved quietly, two mismatched plates in your hands. A spoonful of canned beans, a slice of the latest bread you'd made, and the smallest sliver of tomato each. It wasn’t much, but it was what you had.

You placed one in front of Merle without looking at him. The second you slid toward Daryl, pausing just long enough to glance up at him. You didn’t smile.

But you did care.

Daryl glanced down at the plate, his brow furrowed. He didn’t speak, but his jaw clenched—just slightly—as if it hurt to accept kindness right now.

You turned away before he could say anything.

The room was quiet, save for the clinking of cutlery and low murmurs.

“He shouldn’t be here,” Glen said first, his voice tight, his arm still wrapped in a blood-stained bandage. “He took us. Held us. Let that Governor bastard hurt Maggie—”

“Didn’t lay a hand on her,” Merle drawled, mouth half-full. “’Sides, I ain’t exactly in the habit of torture. Just holdin’ folks for bad men who do like it.” He gave a wink toward Maggie. “No hard feelin’s, sweetheart?”

Maggie visibly tensed. Glen’s hand went for his knife.

Daryl stood, just a fraction. “Merle,” he warned.

Merle raised both hands—one flesh, one steel stump.

Rick stepped forward. “We can’t have him here. We can’t trust him. Hell, we didn’t even know he was coming back.”

You stood near the edge of the table, hands twisting together, head down. You weren’t looking for a spotlight. You weren’t even sure if you should say anything.

But your voice cut through the room anyway.

Soft. Quiet. But not uncertain.

"He saved my life.”

The table stilled.

You looked up, eyes not defiant but earnest. Honest. Your gaze drifted from Rick to Carol to Glen.

“I was outside. Clearing walkers. I got caught.” You looked down for a moment, swallowing your nerves. “I—I thought I was going to die. And then he showed up. Killed every one of them. Pulled me to my feet.”

Merle gave a theatrical bow from his seat.

You didn’t look at him.

“I know he’s done awful things,” you said softly. “I’m not saying we forget that. But he’s Daryl’s family.”

You glanced at Daryl, just once. His head was still down, but his eyes were on you—burning beneath the shadows of his bangs.

“You gave me a chance,” you added gently. “When I had nothing. No one. We could give him a chance too.”

Silence.

“Look im not saying we go play baseball with the man,” you tired again. “But one opportunity, one strike and he's out.”

Rick looked at you for a long beat, his jaw ticking.

“I know you all have reasons not to trust him. I get it. But if it were anyone else’s brother, we’d at least… try.” Your voice dropped a note.

“Daryl has someone. That should count for something.”

No one moved.

You could feel your own pulse in your throat. Your hands were clasped in front of you, a nervous habit.

You weren’t defending Merle.

You were defending Daryl.

He turned his head—just slightly. Looked at you from beneath the shadow of his messy hair, one eye catching the light.

You didn’t look away.

Rick’s expression was hard, but measured.

“You trust him?” he asked you directly.

You hesitated.

Then.

"I trust that he didn’t have to save me. But he did.”

A long, thick pause followed. You sat down again quietly, folding into yourself.

You hadn’t raised your voice, but it felt like you’d shouted.

Daryl shifted. His boots scraped against the floor as he stepped forward just enough to make himself visible again.

“She’s right,” he muttered. “He ain’t perfect. Hell, he’s the biggest damn headache I ever had. But he’s my blood.”

Merle barked out a laugh. “Aww, you gettin’ misty-eyed on me, baby brother?”

Daryl shot him a look. “Shut up, Merle.”

And there it was.

For the first time since he’d come back, Daryl looked at you, really looked.

His brow furrowed, with confusion. Like he didn’t understand why you’d do that—for him. Not when he’d left.

Rick didn’t say yes.

But he didn’t say no either.

The prison courtyard is quiet in the early morning light. The fog hangs low over the gravel, creating an ethereal barrier between your group and the walkers pressing against the outer fence.

Glen paces along the inner perimeter, his face still bruised and swollen from what Merle and the Governor's men did to him in Woodbury.

It's been three days since the rescue mission. Three days since they'd made it back.

Three days of uncomfortable silence as everyone processes what happened there.

One day of Merle Dixon living within these walls, kept separate in the entry room but still too close for comfort.

Glen stops his pacing when Daryl emerges from the cell block, crossbow slung across his back as always.

Tension rolls off Glen's shoulders, the way his hands curl into fists at his sides.

He's never felt so angry, so broken.

Not even after Atlanta, not even after the farm fell.

This confrontation has been brewing since they returned.

"Need to talk," Daryl says, approaching Glen with caution, the way he might a wounded animal.

The bruises on Glenn's face have deepened to a sickly purple-yellow, one eye still partially swollen.

The sight makes something twist in Daryl's chest—guilt, anger, shame.

Glen stops pacing but doesn't look at him directly. "About what?"

"Y'know what," Daryl replies, his voice low. No one else is in the courtyard this early, but the prison has a way of carrying sounds. "About Merle."

Glen's jaw tightens visibly. "Nothing to talk about."

"Bullshit," Daryl counters, stepping closer. "You ain't said two words since we got back. To anyone but Maggie."

"What am I supposed to say?" Glen finally turns to face him, eyes burning with a mixture of pain and rage.

"That it's fine? That I understand? That I forgive him?"

Daryl winces slightly at the raw emotion in Glen's voice. "ain't askin' for that."

"Then what are you asking for?" Glen's voice rises slightly. "Because he's here now, inside our home, behind the same walls where my girlfriend sleeps. Where Carl sleeps. Where Rick's baby sleeps."

"He's m'brother," Daryl says simply, as if those three words explain everything.

Because in his world, they do.

"And what are we?" Glen challenges, gesturing to the prison around them. "What is this group to you ?"

Daryl shifts uncomfortably, his eyes dropping to the ground. "It ain't that simple."

"It is that simple," Glenn insists. "He beat me. He brought a walker into the room while I was tied to a chair. He was going to let the Governor—"

His voice breaks, and he takes a moment to compose himself.

"He let the Governor put his hands on Maggie while I listened from the next room."

Daryl flinches as if struck.

He'd heard bits and pieces of what happened, but hearing it laid out so starkly makes the bile rise in his throat.

"He didn't know what the Governor was gonna do."

"Don't," Glen warns. "Don't make excuses for him. He knew exactly what was happening. He just didn't care."

Silence stretches between them, heavy with unspoken words. A walker snarls at the fence, drawn by their voices.

The sun continues its slow climb above the horizon, burning off the morning fog.

"He's changing," Daryl finally says, though the words sound hollow even to his own ears. "Trying too."

"We changed too, but we didnt start as monsters," Glen replies, his voice steadier now.

"He's blood," Daryl insists, an edge of desperation creeping into his tone. "M'family."

Glenn shakes his head slowly. "No. We're your family, Daryl. Me, Rick, Carol, Carl... all of us." He pauses watching Daryl's reaction carefully.

"We've had your back. We've risked our lives for you, and you for us. That's family."

Daryl's thumb worries at a loose thread on his crossbow strap, a nervous habit he's never quite shaken, he can't meet Glen's gaze.

"I know that. I ain't sayin'..."

"What are you saying then?" Glen presses. "That we should just forgive and forget? Pretend it never happened?"

"M'saying he deserves a chance," Daryl says, finally meeting Glen's gaze. "Just like everyone else got."

Glen laughs, a bitter sound that doesn't suit him at all.

"A chance. Right."

He gestures to his battered face.

"Is this what getting a chance looks like to you?"

"He was following orders," Daryl argues weakly. "The Governor—"

"Would you be making these same excuses if it had been her instead of Maggie in that room with the Governor?" Glen cuts him off, his voice deadly quiet now.

The question hits Daryl like a physical blow. He takes a step back, his face draining of color.

"Would you?" Glen pushes. "If she'd been stripped half-naked and threatened while your brother stood by and did nothing, would you forgive him?"

Daryl's breathing quickens, as he begins to pace, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

The mere thought of you in that situation, terrified and at the mercy of the Governor while Merle watched, makes something violent rise within him.

"That's different," he mutters, but there's no conviction behind the words.

"Why?" Glenn demands. "Because it's her? Because of whatever is happening between you two?"

Daryl's head snaps up, eyes narrowed. "Ain't nothing happening."

"Right," Glenn scoffs.

"Answer the question,"Glen presses when Daryl remains silent. "If the Governor had threatened her while Merle stood by, would you forgive him?"

The silence stretches thin between them as Daryl wrestles with the truth he doesn't want to acknowledge.

Finally, he exhales heavily, the fight seeming to drain from his body.

"No," he admits, the word barely audible. "I wouldn't."

Glen nods once, a small, sad validation. "Then don't ask me to do what you couldn't."

Daryl paces the empty watchtower, fingers twitching with the need to punch something, to release the storm churning inside him.

Glen's words echo in his head like a bad song he can't shake.

"If it had been her in that room..."

The mere thought sends a wave of nausea through him, followed by a surge of protective rage that terrifies him with its intensity.

He'd always known Merle was damaged—hell, both of them were.

Their old man had seen to that with his belt and his fists and his whiskey-soaked hatred. But Daryl had clung to the belief that somewhere beneath the racism, the violence, and the drugs was the brother who'd taught him to hunt, who'd occasionally, in rare moments of sobriety, shown him something resembling love.

Now that illusion is crumbling, forcing Daryl to face a truth he's been running from his whole life, Merle might be blood, but he might be poison too.

"Ain't nothin' happening," he'd told Glen about you, the lie bitter on his tongue.

Truth is, something's been happening since that morning when he'd seen you brake down over a walker and he awkwardly stood guard while you cried.

Something grew when you recognized the signs of abuse on him that no one else bothered to see.

Something shifted when he hallucinated Merle taunting him about his feelings for you in the forest.

But acknowledging that something means accepting vulnerability, and vulnerability has always equaled pain.

He leans against the railing, eyes scanning the tree line but not really seeing it.

What kind of man chooses strangers over his own brother?

What kind of man puts a woman he ain't even touched above family?

His father's voice, thick with contempt, surfaces from the darkest corners of his mind.

"Weak. Always were. Ain't no wonder Merle left you behind all them times."

Daryl's knuckles whiten as he grips the railing.

Maybe the old man was right.

But there's another voice now, quieter but persistent, that sounds suspiciously like yours. It whispers that maybe strength isn't about doing everything alone.

The thought is as terrifying as it is liberating.

Because if he admits how much this group matters, how much you matter, then he has to face how much he stands to lose. And loss has been the one constant in Daryl's life—the one thing he knows for certain will always comes.

Daryl makes a decision. He'll watch Merle, keep him in line, protect the group—protect you—even from his own blood if necessary.

He doesn't know what that makes him—traitor, survivor, or something else entirely—but for the first time in his life, he's starting to believe that being a Dixon doesn't have to define who he is or who he might become.

The day had faded into blue-grey shadows, the kind that made the world feel quieter than it really was. Outside the fencing, walkers still stirred—low groans and the occasional rattle of chain-link. Inside the prison walls, it was calmer, but no one truly relaxed anymore.

You leaned against the railing overlooking the yard, arms folded loosely. The concrete was cool beneath your elbows, the metal guard smooth against your palms.

You weren’t really watching anything. Not the trees. Not the watchtower. Just… letting the silence press into your chest.

The sound of boots scraping against concrete caught your ear, but you didn’t turn. You knew it was him.

Daryl came to stand beside you, not too close, but not far either. A shoulder’s length. His crossbow was slung across his back, dirt streaked across his arms.

His hair was still damp at the ends from having splashed water on his face before dinner.

He didn’t say anything at first.

The two of you just stood there for a few long moments, looking out at nothing, like the world was balancing on the space between you.

Finally, he spoke—gruff and low.

“Earlier, in the common room... what you said...”

You turned your head slightly. He wasn’t looking at you. His hands rested on the railing, knuckles scarred, fingers twitching like he wasn’t used to staying still.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered. “They don’t trust Merle. I get it. Hell, I don’t even know if I do sometimes.”

You tilted your head. “You’re his brother.”

That made his lips press into a thin line. His jaw flexed. “Don't make him good though”

A pause.

The night air carried the scent of rust and rain-soaked soil.

Then, something changed.

Barely perceptible.

You felt it before you saw it—the warmth of his hand shifting closer to yours on the railing.

His fingers moved in a twitchy, uncertain rhythm, like a man trying to approach a wild animal without spooking it.

And then, slowly… tentatively… his pinky brushed against yours.

You glanced down.

He wasn’t looking. He stared dead ahead, jaw tight, like the act of touching you burned through his defenses in real time.

And then his pinky hooked—gentle but deliberate—over where yours rested on the railing.

It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a brush of coincidence. It was intentional.

It said everything his mouth didn’t know how to.

He didn’t hold your hand.

He couldn’t yet.

But he wanted to.

After a breath or two, he pulled away slowly, cleared his throat, and stepped back.

“’Night,” he mumbled, already turning.

“Night, Daryl,” you whispered back.

He paused for a fraction of a second before disappearing, the prison swallowing him whole.

You stood there a moment longer, hand still on the rail, warmth blooming in the place where his touch had been.

[janicekao]

His

Pairing: Shane Walsh x reader POV: Shane has finally gotten over Lori and it's all thanks to you, his newest love interest for the past year who his world revolves around. He won't let you out of his sight and seeing you socialize with Rick and sharing a laugh, runs him absolutely red hot. Warnings: #Black!Reader #AgeGapLove #Your/Name #ZombieApocalypse #TheWalkingDead #BrainRot #Toxic #ShaneCrazyAF #CNC?? #Possessive #AngryS3x #OutsideS3x #BabyTrapping #Org@smDenial #HumiliationK1nk #S@dism #Cr3amPi3 #Roughs3x #FanFiction #MostlySmut #NotMuchPlot #18+ etc. 4078 words Wattpad link Enjoy my babies<3 ---------------------

"Did you eat?" Always lurking close by, Shane makes sure none of the group members were greedy enough to get seconds of the scarce food before you had gotten first.

You nod, still chewing on lasting remnants of beef from Hershel's cow that was slaughtered and salted last week— the meat still somehow manages to feed the large group of people who are now living on his farm.

"Good, still hungry?" He offers the food right from off of his own plate. One thing Shane will always do, is make sure that you need or want for nothing at all.

"No baby." You smile, natural blush from Georgia's heatwave making your gorgeous melanin glow a bit more than usual. "I'm okay."

You accept his possessive caress, fingers gracing your neck and collarbone as you sweetly squeeze his wrist. "I'll be back, gonna skin some squirrels with Daryl and hang 'em out to dry."

Your face scrunches up in disgust.

"That's alright." Shane chuckles.

"Act like that now but don't be coming for my stash of squirrel jerky when it's midnight and you're looking for a snack."

"The only midnight snack I'll be looking for is you." Always so quick on your feet, you love to watch the brawny man crack into a flushing grin.

"Come're." He commands, "gimme a kiss."

You do, standing from the porch's rocking chair you press your hands to Shane's strong shoulders as you're pulled in closely to him with a callused grip on your ass, feeling every bit of his touch through a short sundress that is made out of the same material as a handkerchief.

You can taste the pride on his silky lips, he enjoys feeling the thickness of your body never slimming in his favorite places during these recent times where sustenance is more than scarce, it means that he's doing his job— proud of himself for being the best provider he can be for you.

You finish your dinner, waving to Shane as he throws his hunting gear over his back, heading into the woods with Darryl as you place your plate in the wash bucket.

As the evening's setting sun still continues to beat down on the farmhouse, you look for something to quench your thirst. You become enticed by the cold condensation dripping down a fresh pitcher of lemonade, kindly brought out to you all by the courtesy of Hershel's daughters, Maggie and Beth. You fold your legs neatly inside the picnic table and pour yourself a nice tall glass of the refreshment. You're met at the table by an overheated Rick Grimes who is having the very same idea of cooling down. Conversation between the two of you is little to none, a few laughs here and there as Rick jokes about the heatwave and dreading to make a supply-run in this treacherous heat tomorrow, but as you sit there, you are unaware to the wind blowing your dress in a way that exposes just the color of your pink panties every now and again. Although the simple mistake goes unnoticed to you, as Shane looks back at the porch once more, he takes an immediate double-take, noticing the unveiling gusts of wind and Rick's slithering gaze that catches a glimpse of your unmentionables each time that he can.

Rage fills him. His body temp now nearly double the scorching degree of Georgia's heat index. Shane drops his backpack and his stride becomes long furious steps back to the house, climbing the porch's four steps in just one big leap. "Get up." His southern drawl deepens when he is angered and suddenly you feel it rain down on you.

His body casts a shadow over you and suddenly you look up wondering where the sun went. Moving far too slow for his liking, Shane's thick grip grabs hold of your bicep, paining your thin muscle as he hauls you up by the arm, spilling your lemonade, and taking you away in front of everyone "Ow Shane! What are you doing?"

The flopping of your sandals don't even make sound as you're taken down the steps, he pulls you so hard you're not even sure if your feet even touched the steps.

At least ten pairs of eyes drill holes into you. You haven't felt this much embarrassment since being scolded by a teacher in grade school. Tears well into your eyes as Shane pulls you far from the house, you're heading for the campground where your tent is to be disciplined, but you yank away from the pain of his grasp before he can take you there.

His eyes widen in disbelief, now misbehaving twice in a row, Shane hasn't the time or patience to take you in further. "Move." He nudges you with a fierce poke towards the closest thing, the tractor shed. "MOVE!"

Finding silence and privacy in the tractor shed, your chest rises with shattered angry breaths, keeping yourself from crashing out or crying.

His stare is uninterrupted without a blink, muscles pulsing as his unbuttoned blue shirt darkens in sweat. Shane has been chewing gum to help him quit cigarettes, but you stress him out to the point of wishing he had a smoke on him every damn day. "You sweet on him now?"

Who? Rick Grimes?

"No!" You scoff, you would never. Shane had just started opening up to you, and you finally learned all that transpired between him and Rick's wife Lori while Rick was thought to be dead. You could see how much it all had hurt him, now being able to see the relaxed-content in his eyes knowing that he had you.

"Then is he sweet on you?" His voice raises and you refuse it. "Shane, no."

He paces, unintentionally kicking dirt up underneath his boots.

"You're mine, say it." He'd be able to hear it in your voice if you were lying, you'd better say it like you mean it.

"Not when you're acting like that I'm not!" You don't even realize what you've said or why you said it, just still so embarrassed that everyone in the group seen you pulled away like a child.

He darts towards you with a stern finger in your face, your feet almost travel backwards but you'd hate to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you're startled. "Let me tell you somethin, you're mine when I'm mad, happy, or sad. You're mine and I don't give a fuck which way I'm acting!"

The disobedient roll to your eyes and crossed arms across your chest sends him into an immediate disarray.

Shane quickly lifts the front of your dress, driving his rough hand into your panties as he cups your sex. You release a surprised gasp and struggle at his forearm to retrieve his uninvited touch. The struggle only strengthens his hold on you, fingers now prying through the lips of your cunt and weakening your already pathetic fight even more. "I knew it, pussy wetter than a Louisiana swamp, wanting me angry on purpose. And you do it by talking with Rick? RICK OUT OF ALL PEOPLE?"

You weren't purposely aroused, but you have been ovulating, even the sound of Shane's breathing recently could turn you on. "He only joked about the weather!" You struggle to convince your deranged boyfriend of what really happened. "Rick— he just wanted to know if we needed anything on the next run!"

"THEN I'D GET IT FOR YOU!" His jaw ticks in jealousy of even hearing Rick's name pour off of your tongue. Shane's mind trails off and repeats himself, "I'd get it, for you." His ferocity comes back at full force. "Damn it, what did I say about Rick?"

"I don't— I don't know." Unfocused to his belligerent yelling, your hold on his wrist becomes more of a crutch to steady your grinding than to force him away.

"REPEAT IT Y/N." He bellows.

"He's a snake." Your eyes are half-lidded and full of lust as you say your lines as if they were memorized and practiced, still bucking your hips into the bed of his palm. "He's a snake in a sheriff's hat."

Shane emphasizes each profane word as he repeats it back to you. "He's a FUCKING snake in a FUCKING sheriff's hat, that's right, good girl."

So much of your nectar begins to prune his hand, enough slickness that he could install a tap in you. "Damn, baby. You're already like this so early in the evening?"

You cringe, face flushed in shame, and soaking his fingers even more from your body's response to an intimate touch.

"Lemme ask you somethin. You know what else is mine?" He spits out his gum. "This needy twat between your legs."

"It is, it is." You agree with haste as the petting becomes skilled circular rubbing.

"Yeah?" Shane taunts with a lifted smirk. "And what does she want right now?"

Your eyes glue to his heavy bottom lip, it glistens with spit from the way he licks it to tempt you. What you want is for him to be the munch you know he can be. You want to shut him and his jealousy up with the glide of your pussy across his face. "She wants to be kissed."

"Oh? Of course you would want some fucking head." His chuckle is belittling. "And why would I reward you for being such a fucking tease to every man around?" Pressure is taken from your sex as his fingers retreat from a full hand to gentle fingertips strumming against your clit.

Your knees buckle as the feeling sets a moan free from your lips, "Shane, I'll fall."

"So fall." He notices a slightly shattered mirror pressed against the raggedy old wood of the shed, its dusty reflection captures every second of your interaction. "Fall so I can fuck you right here into this dirt." Shane snatches the front of your dress, tearing the fabric from your body as if it were made of paper.

"My dress!" You notice the reflection too, watching your tits bounce out of the torn sundress, and now wondering how you'll make it out of this shed without the others seeing you a naked-tattered mess.

"Yeahhh, it's ripped now honey." Shane's voice holds no remorse and his movements don't stutter once as his fingers skillfully pry open his belt and the zipper of his pants. "Bout to be covered in cum too."

Pressing against you with his thick weight is enough to make your wobbling legs fail. You fall to the ground, skinning your knees as you land on them and the palms of your hands.

Your back is arched, humiliated and whining as you feel every bit of your privacy spread the further you arch. Your eyes widen as the feeling of cold metal lays against the flesh of your hot cunt. Whatever it is, the steel is in your panties... You jolt in fear as the steel slits the cotton bridge of your panties into two and leaving you wide open to his gaze. It's Shane's hunting knife, you recognize it now that the tip of the blade eases down your bare thigh and hits the dirt beside you. He doesn't threaten you with it, but he lets you know that it's there. "You're gonna take me— take every fucking inch." You would've thought that he would need a few pumps in his fist to get him started, but the heat of his swollen cockhead against the brim of your cunt shows that all the manhandling he's put on you has had him hard for a while now. The one inch that breaches your entry quickly becomes eight with a sturdy upward thrust.

The wind is knocked out of you, the sudden plow takes the stamina out of your elbows, falling face down-ass up into the tan Georgia dust. Your whole body would've collapsed if it weren't for the indented grip he has on your hips, directing your bottom half to meet his every pump as the shed reverberates the sound of your ass clapping against his steel thighs.

You catch another glimpse of the fuck through the mirror's reflection, seeing the side of your face against dirt and Shane's ferocity as he goes blow for blow with your pussy fills you with shame. The humiliation makes you cry... it also makes your pussy's grip vice-like being that shame is one of your least proudest kinks.

"That's right, watch yourself." He demands through tightly gritted teeth. "Watch how well you take it."

Shane huffs, working your body beneath him and entranced by the sight of your vulnerability and the crashing of your supple flesh against him. But, your tears get the best of him. Although he lives to hear your cries, they pain him too... A mental battle between a man who is sadistic and a lover boy at the same damn time. "Fuck, you're alright baby, let me see you."

He turns you over for deep missionary, wiping your tears with the beds of his fingertips and brushing the dust from your angelic face... Before beginning again, he pauses to take you all in. Pupils dilating on your beauty as he reminds himself that he's the luckiest man alive to see you like this. Slick and inviting, Shane hardly has to direct himself in to be pulled back into your heat.

Your pelvis spreads for the missionary sex that your body craves, your thighs are met around his waist, locking behind him at your ankles. The curve of his cock prods at the spot that seems to dot your vision, and as he comes to a slow stroke, you lose the ability to speak— mouth falling open without sound.

His thumb soothes the needy wrinkle between your brow, voice honeyed in baritoned southern charm. "I know baby, I know."

Shane continues slowly, making you feel every devastating inch drag against your walls as his 'lucky-22' chain dangles in your face. This is one reason why you chose him, he's bigger than you, older than you, stronger than you. No man your age could ever cherish your body the way that he does. He sets a brutal pace, slamming into you until your gushing cream coats his shaft and soaks the base of his cock. Each plunge is so very calculated and precise, his brown eyed-blown pupiled stare forces you to think about what you did to deserve such a brutal fuck, making you remember who you belong to until it's burnt into your cranium.

The shed is old, so broken down that the boards of the building closest to the ground have rotted and been chipped away to the point of seeing nature from inside. Shane's hand finds your mouth, silencing your moans as his heart beats out of his chest. He recognizes every shoe passing by the holes of the shed, it's the group, still worried about what they saw, they have come to check on you both. "Shit, get up, they're coming."

He pulls out, helping you to your feet and leaving you unsatisfied the moment your body feels the immense emptiness.

"I want everyone to spread out. They've been gone for a while now and we all know how pissy Shane can get. Find the girl, make sure she's alright, and let's bring her back to camp." You both should've known who would be conducting this search. Who else other than Rick Grimes has their nose in everyone's fucking business?

Shane's adrenaline kicks into overdrive, furious with Rick still running shit and making him out to be the bad guy, the last thing he'll ever let happen is to let Rick Grimes be the reason him and his lady lost out on a good nut. "Nah fuck that!" He rids his shirt as his body heat makes the entire shed even hotter. "Get over here."

Wanting for more, you had never left. Shane pushes you against the tractor's grill, you hiss as your skin is met with the hot smoldering metal of the appliance, Shane lifts you, wrapping your thighs back around his hips as if you were a belt and continues to fuck you at a rhythm that is filled with nothing but rage. Held up by his strong arms with the help of being pushed against the tractor, you tightly shut your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck as you prepare for the rest of his assault.

So sensitive to now what is the third position in one fuck, it doesn't take long to feel your pressure build quickly as your cunt squeezes around him. Shane curses low and filthy as you tighten around his manhood, making his hips stutter and become sporadic as he hammers cock into you.

He feels you clench, taunting your need to climax by leaning into the sex, feeding it, fucking you harder. "You're gonna come aren't you? I shouldn't even fucking let you."

The ache of his denial burns so good, you know when he finally lets you, your squirt will be hydrant like. "Please let me—"

"Hold it." He tortures you with the withholding, still mad about what happened earlier or the search party out looking for you now. "I'll never touch you again if you don't." Shane pants a clear bluff, you know he couldn't go an hour without touching you somehow, but you are no match for his threats right now. "I said fucking hold it!"

You do, core aching as resistance is fucked out of you and the feeling of a need to pee makes your whole body weak. You gently bite into his shoulder to silence your own sobs, tasting the salt from his sweat against your tongue.

"Come."

His command sets off a hot white-burst of an orgasm through your entire pathetic existence, you cry out sounding more helpless than ever as the ecstasy that you waited so long for finally washes over you.

He's fucked you in many places before, your favorite memory being pummeled in the woods against a fallen log that scratched your soft flesh into light scars that you can still feel on the insides of your thighs to this day. But today you've found a new favorite location, being fucked so hard against Hershel's tractor that the John Deere logo is imprinted into the flesh of your ass.

You try to thank him without actually admitting to enjoying his punishment, without using your words you lean in for a kiss instead. "Don't." He stubbornly dodges it. "I don't even want to kiss you right now."

You call his bluff. "Yes you do."

...

"Alright— Come're." You were right, you're always right.

His lips find yours as Shane meets your moan with one of his own. As you add tongue into the French kiss, you whisper against his mouth all the little nothings that you know he likes to hear— that you're his, that your pussy is his, that you'll always be his good little wife.

You've always enjoyed being manhandled, letting Shane toss you around like his personal rag-doll, you never needed to do anything but look pretty and be held up... the orgasm would always come to you.

"Oh, shit—you take this dick so good baby." Your kiss eats away at his rugged exterior, weakening his stamina with romance. His curses are low and filthy as he slumps forward with finishing strokes that over-exert him. He praises. "Fucking perfect little pussy— and it's mine, it's all mine."

You nod, using the skill of your chocolate puppy-dog eyes to get whatever you want. Shane kisses your neck, bruising it with a hickie as he gives the same treatment to your tits that continue to bounce against his chin. After your climaxes you're usually numb to the sensation of your cunt, now mush in his palms, it's always best for him to chase his high when you're like this... Sure you'll be sore come morning, but as of now he can fuck you brutishly, use you as his perfect cocksleeve until he blasts off.

Watching his resistance unravel at the seams has always been a treat for you, reminding you of the power you have between your thighs. Shane's erection twitches, beginning to pulse through your core. "Yeah, Ive got something for you alright, got something to keep you behaving for good." You expect maybe a choking grip around your throat or perhaps a welting slap on the ass, but no, what he gives you is his hot shot of cum...

"Wait!" His tip is pressed against your cervix as he plants his seed in you. Shane grins as he swallows your reaction of the unexpected forced breeding, he knows it isn't what you were expecting. He knows you're stuck between a literal rock and a hard place. He smiles as he watches your panic, overwhelmed with the idea of his gorgeous young lover's breasts and belly swollen from growing his baby. He can't wait, he regrets nothing. "I know what I did. But don't you worry, I'll be here every step of the way sugar."

You cover your face with your hands wanting to sob or throw a tantrum, afraid to bring a baby in this world regardless of how many nights you and Shane fell asleep sharing the idea of it. Even if he's a perfect provider, good with kids, and a true survivor, his rage is something that has always needed to be worked on. "You fucking idiot."

He chuckles, making you gasp from another harsh pump and spew of his cum. "Yeah I know." He mocks, "but this fucking idiot is going to be your baby daddy now. We'll see how much you'll be a fucking flirt eight months pregnant with what's mine." Haters would call it trapping, and Shane would absolutely fucking agree. Known to the fact there is no birth control in the apocalyptic world, he waits until he's flaccid and out of baby-batter to pull out after filling you to your absolute brim with his seed, Ensuring a pregnant womb to come shortly after— ensuring that you won't be going absolutely anywhere without him around ever again.

He pulls out with a lewd mixture of his cum and your cream webbing between your bodies. He watches your shared mess spill down your thighs, grinning with pride about the decision he made for you both. "Put this on, come on."

His shirt is massive around your shoulders, he protects whatever's left of your virtue as much as he can as he buttons the shirt closed and tugs you out of the shed. Shane has you caught in a hand-hold of entangled fingers, nothing that you can pull out of.

Outside, you see the eyes of your friends turning towards you from shouting your name in the woods for last thirty-minutes and the search is finally called off.

"Don't look at her." Rick makes it his place to check on you and Shane both, but Shane won't have any of it. "Don't you FUCKING look at her!"

"Shane." Rick's tone of voice is belittling, still continuing to treat Shane as the deranged man that— well, he might just be...

"Don't look at her, don't talk to her, don't breathe in her fucking direction!!!!" Your lover continues to explode.

"Shane, brother, but she's part of the group!—" Rick chooses the wrong thing to say to Shane who has already punched him in the jaw before he can even finish his sentence.

They hear Shane's ex Lori. Rick's wife screams in horror as she comes to Rick's defense. Shane crumbles Rick's police uniform in the fist of his hand, pulling him into his fiery gaze as Rick still tries to recover from the punch that sent him to the ground. "Part of the group? Not anymore. Come morning, y/n, me, and the baby I just put in her are out of here."

You gulp, unsure if you want to leave knowing that moving in numbers is always safer than being out on your own— especially in a time like this where you may have conceived a child tonight.

Rick coughs, spitting up blood from his busted lip, "you wouldn't do something that stupid. You purposely got that girl pregnant? In the middle of the fucking end of the world??"

"Mad you can't take this one too?"

Lori drops her head, realizing that the comment was about her and the unsurety of who her baby girl's father actually is... Rick's jaw ticks, he becomes just as tested.

Shane continues. "Yeah I thought so you jealous son of a bitch."

Now that you realize it, you too have noticed the way that Rick stares at you...

Unhappy with his wife, unhappy with his new baby, maybe he does want everything that Shane has. Perhaps he is jealous— the kind of man who wants his cake and to eat it too.

Shane nudges you, making your feet travel towards the tents so you both can begin packing your belongings.

"You don't have to do this." Rick's sharp blue eyes are directed to you this time. "You don't have to leave with him if you don't want to, hun."

Hun?

Shane almost leaps at Rick for another altercation, but you stop him, holding him back with a gentle hand to his chiseled chest.

Although Shane can be insecure and is known to make stupid-rash decisions, one thing he's never done is steer you wrong. Since meeting him, you've never gone without his protection and he's a man who would risk his life if it meant keeping you safe from harm— and on an even heavier note, you actually do love him.

You look at Rick in a squinted stare of disgust. Now aware to his many tactics of ostracizing the people he's threatened by and persuading the ones that he wishes to follow him, you could spit at his feet in the heat of this very moment.

"Why don't we leave tonight Shane?" Your response widens Rick's eyes. Always believing that he knows everything and always knows best, what he never expected was for Shane Walsh to finally win today. "The sooner the better, right?"

...

Shane eases into his usual handsome, sly, half-assed grin, cuffing the back of your neck as he pulls you into a tongue kiss. Finally able to show off someone who is absolutely unequivocally his. "I love you woman."

You are his, and regardless of how stubborn you can be, you will always be his because it's exactly what you want to be. "I love you too."

[dixons-sunshine]

The Talk | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

A/N: No reader descriptions! Reader can be Hershel's adopted daughter. Also, this kinda sucks, but we're gonna roll with it.

Daryl could feel his cheeks burn with a heat that would make the sun jealous. He was leaning against the doorframe while nervously fidgeting with his fingers, his gaze fixated on the ground below. He was starting to royally regret his actions that led up to this highly embarrassing event. And, judging by the way you kept shifting your weight from one leg to the other, he could see that you did, too.

Your father was a lot of things. Kind. Compassionate. Understanding. But above all else? He was a man of faith, a man of God. He firmly believed that sex was an act that should be reserved until marriage. He held a steadfast grip on his beliefs, which made it extremely uncomfortable for you due to the fact that your father had decided that particular moment would be the perfect time to have ‘the talk’—with your partner in the room.

“Dad, is this really necessary?” you asked him incredulously, your eyes widened as you gave him ‘the look’, a look he understood all too well. “You know we've been together for what, six months now? It's a bit too late for this talk.”

Hershel Greene let out a small chuckle, his wise eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “Humour me, Sweetheart.”

“I'm twenty years too old for this, don't you think?”

“You're never too old for a gentle reminder,” Hershel denied with a shake of his head. “Now, Maggie and Glenn had to go through this. It's only fitting that I do the same with the two of you.”

You groaned and shook your head. “I'm not in my early twenties anymore, Dad. I'm in my thirties. I think I'm mature enough to be responsible, don't you think?”

“Daryl.” The archer practically winced when Hershel's gaze rested on him. “I know this must be quite embarrassing for you, Son, but please be rest assured that I'm not here to threaten you in any way. I know that's not in any way effective.” Daryl let out a small sigh of relief, making Hershel chuckle. “Now, to spare my daughter the embarrassment because I can see the way she's death glaring me, I'll keep this short; are you using protection?”

Daryl's eyes widened. He nearly choked on his own spit. “I—I dun'—um—”

“Dad!” you exclaimed in embarrassment. “Please! Just don't.”

Hershel chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I'll lighten up. Just don't do it without the proper protection, okay?”

“Okay!” you told him. “Can you go now? Please?”

“Alright,” Hershel chuckled. He moved over to the door and extended his hand in a handshake. When Daryl hesitantly accepted the handshake, Hershel leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Hurt her and I'll hurt you, got it?”

Well, so much for not threatening him, Daryl thought. He nodded, however, and with that, Hershel finally left. Daryl let out a breath when he felt you embrace him from behind. “What the hell was that all 'bout?” he questioned with a scoff.

You simply giggled and shook your head. “Beth just got with Zach and she's refusing to have the talk with him. I guess this was his way of feeling like he has some semblance of control, even if it was unnecessary.”

Daryl chuckled. “Not gon' lie, this was prolly both the most amusin' and most terrifyin' moment of my life.”

“Yeah, but you prevailed. I'm proud of you.”

Daryl scoffed and turned around in your embrace, his hands going to rest on your hips. A small, lopsided smile rested on his face. “It would'a been amusin' to see what he would'a said if we told him ya were pregnant.”

“Do you want him to get a heart attack?” you laughed. “I'm not gonna lie to my dad like that.”

“Admit it. It would'a been kinda funny, though.”

You shook your head with a smile. “Yeah,” you finally conceded. “Yeah, it would've been pretty funny.”

[astraule]

Any chance you’d write platonic daryl x fem!reader? Injury hiding is my favourite so could you write that with maybe “stop telling me you’re okay”

"You Despise Me"

Pairing: Daryl x Reader Song: Cool About It - boygenius “Feelin’ like an absolute fool about it, wishin’ you were kind enough to be cruel about it.” Tags: Platonic relationship, cursing, arguing, “I don’t hate you” Y/N: Fem!reader Word Count: 1.1 K Summary: At a rundown bulk store, Daryl urges you to take charge. You climb onto his shoulders to reach the window but end up scraping your arm on the glass. Brushing off the sting, you continue to explore with Sasha and Daryl. Later, you confront Daryl about his apparent grudge against you. Back at the prison, Hershel tends to your cut, and afterward, Daryl checks on it, reassuring you that he doesn’t hate you. You feel a wave of relief, though he’s still concerned about your attempt to hide the injury.

3RD POV: (Prison Courtyard)

The past few weeks have been relatively eventful, with the prison full of newcomers. There were new crops being sewed, promising a new batch of rations. But one thing that has been particularly frustrating is the fact that Daryl’s always so eager to endanger himself. He can't go more than two weeks without heading back out into the vast unknown. This recurring issue has been the root of many arguments between the two of you.

You knew only too well that he would still dodge the topic, but you were hell-bent on confronting it face-on in the hopes of breaking through his stubbornness. Usually, you were steadfast in your determination to stay behind at the prison, assisting Carol with the kids and whatever arose. But today you requested Rick's permission to accompany Daryl and his chosen team. You needed to know the risks he was willingly stepping into.

“No way, Y/N. I'm not taking you there," replied Daryl, sitting on top of his motorbike. "This isn't up for discussion; Rick agreed, and it's decided. Don’t forget you’re the one who wanted to stop bringing up what was dangerous." You retorted with a petty smile and got into the left back seat in the car.

(Inside Car)

Bob looked at you in the rearview mirror and asked, “What’s going on with you two?” Sasha, her eyes on Daryl through the front windshield as he drove, chimed in, “It seems like the tension between you is escalating.” You let out a sigh, leaning your head against the window, and said, “It’s just the same old back-and-forth, always bickering. It feels like we can’t stand each other. I just wish I knew how to make him like me.”

"Daryl isn't the type to enjoy being around people; he either puts up with you or he doesn't. It's as straightforward as that," Rosita remarked while making sure her pistol was loaded. "Well, in that case, I'm set on getting him to at least put up with me," you responded, which earned a laugh from Bob and Sasha.

(Bulk Store)

Sasha shouted as she got out of the passenger seat, “holy fuck, this has been here the whole time?” Daryl hoisted his crossbow onto his shoulder and said, “it seems like people have tried to break in, but they didn’t manage it. If anyone was inside, they’re probably long gone.”

Rosita nodded, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. "We need to keep an eye out for any walkers, okay?" she said, walking toward the securely locked bulk store. "But how are we supposed to get in? There's a reason no one has succeeded so far," you responded, sliding your gun into your jeans and placing your hand on your hip. "There's always a way," Bob added, a touch of hope in his tone.

“If we just break in, a loud alarm will sound, and it’ll draw every walker nearby,” you said, looking around for a way in. “So, no smashing windows, Daryl,” Sasha chimed in, knowing all too well that this was his usual method for getting into locked places. “Hey, there’s a small window up there,” Bob pointed out, indicating it.

“Are you ready, Y/N? It’s time to step up, especially since you were so keen to join us,” Daryl said, his earlier irritation still showing as he looked at you. You weren’t about to let his words get to you. “I’m ready,” you responded confidently, mirroring your earlier smirk as he crouched down for you to hop onto his shoulders.

As you squeezed through the window, a shard of glass sliced into your arm, creating a deep gash that stretched from your forearm to your elbow. “Shit,” you whispered under your breath. “Are you okay in there?” Sasha called out as you took off the flannel tied around your waist and put it on to hide your wound, pressing down to stop the bleeding. “She’s fine, just let us in, Y/N,” Daryl added as you started to lift the barricades of the store.

"Goddamn, we really struck gold with this place," Rosita said as she walked in, her gaze sweeping over the shelves packed with food, most of it past its expiration date. You were mainly focused on the canned goods anyway. "Take as much of this stuff as you can. Sasha, check the pharmacy for anything useful," Daryl said, taking charge. "What should I be looking for?" Sasha asked. "We need everything. Medications, bandages, sutures, etc. Whatever you can find," Daryl answered as he moved further down one of the aisles.

As Sasha made her way to the pharmacy, Bob looked over at you, noticing your grip tightening on your arm and your face losing some color. “Are you okay, Y/N?” he asked, concern clear in his eyes. “I’m fine, really. No need to worry,” you said with a reassuring smile, trying to calm him down. It seemed to work, as he then turned and headed down one of the aisles.

As you strolled down one of the aisles, you noticed Daryl standing there. Just as he was about to leave, you shouted, “Wait!” He turned around to look at you. “What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, a trace of irritation in his tone. “What did I do to make you hate me?” you asked, taking a step closer to him.

Daryl's voice sliced through the tension. "Is this really what you think? That I hate you? You don't even know me." You found yourself questioning whether it was you or something else that had him so on edge lately. "I can't quite figure it out, but why do you treat me so differently than everyone else?" you asked, your voice wavering a bit as you felt your face go pale, ultimately leaning against Daryl for support.

(Prison Cell)

"I'm okay, truly, I promise you, Hershel," you said as he tended to your arm. "Even if it's not a severe injury, there's still a chance of a serious infection," he warned, shaking his head. "You should have seen Daryl's face when he brought you back in. He was so worried; that guy has already faced so much."

Daryl was worried about you? You must have been imagining things. That’s what you thought until you saw him looking into your cell. “How’s she doing?” he asked Hershel, who was finishing up your stitches and starting to bandage your arm. “We’ll keep it clean and wrapped; she’ll be fine,” Hershel said, getting to his feet and giving Daryl a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping out, leaving you two alone.

Daryl settled beside you on the bed, letting out a deep sigh. “I don’t hate you, Y/N,” he said earnestly. “I won’t explain myself, but you can trust me on that.” You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling comforted. “I’m really glad to hear that,” you replied. “But honestly, hiding that cut on your arm was a terrible idea. You almost gave me a heart attack.” he added, a serious tone in his voice. You chuckled softly. “I’m not joking about that.”

I had to restrain myself quite a bit to prevent this from becoming a romantic fanfic. I truly hope you all enjoy it! I would love to hear your thoughts and any feedback you may have.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Threads of Desire - Chapter 1

Summary: After dreaming of becoming a big time fashion designer, Y/N finds herself miserable working under her best friend Maggie Greene after being in her shadow for years. Maggie has everything that she ever wanted. The job she always longed for and she's dating the man of her dreams, Negan Smith. Christmas time is said to be the most magical time of the year. Will she finally escape Maggie's shadow and get everything she ever wanted or will she realize that life may have been perfect all along with her loyal friend Daryl Dixon at her side?

Characters: (in chapter 1) Negan Smith, the reader (OC), Maggie Greene, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61111030/chapters/156141661

Warnings: Alternate universe, swearing, angst, third person reader, female reader, reader wants to be a fashion designer, New York City is where they live, Maggie is kind of a bitch in this (sorry Maggie fans), dad Negan, Christmas Themed, etc.

Notes: This Christmas story is going to be a little different than my past ones. The two main love interests in this story are Negan and Daryl. This might draw some Neggie shippers and I do want to warn you while Negan and Maggie are together in this, their relationship isn't the healthiest. I want to put that out there ahead of time. Plus, Maggie isn't the nicest of people in this story. Pre-warning.

Y/N as always meaning your name or whatever name you want to put in for this story! Thanks for checking it out! I will try to update this as often as possible on days that I don't post Love's Second Chance.

Most people strive to have the job of their dreams. A job where you could go and a full days’ worth of work would feel like nothing because you loved what you were doing that much. That was supposed to be the case for Y/N. After going to school for years to be a fashion designer, this was promised to be the job that she had always dreamt about. That’s at least what her best friend Maggie had promised her when she took the job. Maggie and Y/N had gone to school together. Even though the two of them were very different, they seemed to make good friends. At least that’s what Y/N tried to tell herself all the time. A lot of people had actually questioned how Y/N continued to have a friendship with Maggie because others viewed it as a one-sided friendship. People claimed Maggie was self-centered and selfish where Y/N would do absolutely anything for her, but it wouldn’t go both ways.

Of course Y/N would always defend Maggie. Suggesting that people didn’t know Maggie like she did. And she always used this job for example as to why Maggie was a good friend. There was often a few key details that she would leave out. That was because she knew that if she told anyone about it, they would insist Y/N drop her as a friend immediately. The problem was? During their college years together, Y/N had grown incredibly close to Maggie’s family. During those years, Maggie’s father had grown very sick and had asked Y/N to watch over Maggie because she needed some direction. Of course, she had promised to take care of Maggie for her father Hershel. Which meant she felt responsible for Maggie in some fashion after Hershel died.

The unfortunate thing is that people were right. Maggie did take advantage of their relationship. During their school years, Y/N was always the better student. Helping Maggie get through her classes. Where Y/N thrived, Maggie barely just made it through. And right when they were about to graduate, Y/N was doing everything she could to get an internship at the company Vixen. It was the hottest, rising fashion design company in New York. All throughout college, Y/N had admired the man in charge of the company. Guy Vixen was her inspiration for actually becoming a fashion designer. She loved his work and dreamt to be like him when she finally got her foot in the business.

Maggie on the other hand? She really had no direction. It seemed like Maggie was a drifter, going where the world would take her. But they both applied for an internship at Vixen. It was Y/N’s dream to work there and be able to work beside Guy Vixen. Maggie did it just for the hell of it. When Y/N was applying, Maggie was there. So it just seemed to work itself out that way. Originally? Neither one of them thought they would get a callback. It was just a dream scenario that was highly unlikely.

But? Almost immediately Maggie had gotten a call back. Guy Vixen himself wanted her to come in and do an interview with him. Y/N never received a call. It wasn’t until after she started working at Vixen that Y/N had learned that Guy never looked at people’s art first. Talent at the time didn’t matter to him. What mattered to him was someone’s social media presence. The kind of impact that they had to the world. At the time they applied? Y/N had a smaller following because she focused mainly on representing her art. Maggie had a much larger social media presence. It didn’t feature her art in any way, but it was more of a lifestyle presence. So Maggie received that call back not because of her designs, but because her personal social media account had a significant amount of followers.

Guy had decided after looking at Maggie’s social media that he liked her look. And after his interview with her? He hired her on immediately. Not as an intern, but as an actual paid employee. Back then? Y/N had gotten upset. Not because Maggie had gotten the job, but because Maggie had ‘accidentally’ made a mistake that helped her in getting that job. When Maggie went to the interview, she grabbed Y/N’s portfolio instead of her own swearing that she had confused the two. According to her, Maggie was late for the interview and just grabbed the first portfolio she saw assuming that it was hers. Because of Maggie’s look along with Y/N’s designs, Maggie had easily gotten the job.

When Y/N approached Maggie about her showing Y/N’s work as her own, Maggie insisted that she didn’t realize it until after Guy had looked at the portfolio and handed it back to her. Something about that never sat right with Y/N. Maggie explained that after Guy insisted on hiring her that she would have looked stupid if she told Guy that the designs weren’t hers. So she didn’t tell him.

After that happened? Their relationship was on shaky water. Because of that, Maggie managed to get Y/N a job at the company as well. Promised Y/N that she would be in a job where they were partners. Swore up and down that Y/N would be an important part of the company where she would be able to grow. And threw the idea of working beside Guy Vixen in her face. Of course, she would want to take that opportunity. It was her idol after all. When Maggie convinced her to take the job, she hinted that it might be possible that Y/N would be able to do even better than Maggie in the future.

Before going into the job, Maggie labeled them partners. After she accepted the job? Y/N realized that she wasn’t Maggie’s partner. No. She was Maggie’s personal assistant. And even though that infuriated her, Guy Vixen was dangled in her face. Maybe there would be that chance that he would see how hard she was working and she’d get hired on too.

Four years later? That never happened. Guy after this long didn’t even know who the hell she was and Y/N was in the same exact position she was when she got here in the business. Remaining loyal and continuing to be Maggie’s personal assistant. Guy didn’t even know her name. Nor did he look at her more than once or twice. Truthfully? Y/N felt invisible.  

In those four years? Maggie had become incredibly successful. Her position at the company was a highly sought after one and she was doing very well for herself. But? The thing that people didn’t know was that Y/N often was the reason behind Maggie’s success. Most of the time, Y/N had helped Maggie with her designs. Stirring up ideas and helping Maggie to put the final touches on things. Even though Maggie was a terrible friend, that promise Y/N had made to Hershel years ago lingered in her mind. She didn’t want to make Maggie look bad. Plus? If Maggie remained in the company, there was always a chance that someone could see that Y/N had talent too. Though? After four years, Y/N should have realized that was never happening.

What that meant for Y/N was she often did the work that Maggie didn’t want to do for the company. Which was pretty much everything except for the public events and the parties that Maggie was meant to attend. Maggie wanted the publicity and the attention. But she didn’t want to spend the time working on the things that needed to be done. Even when Maggie would have interviews for certain magazines or news sources, it was always Y/N preparing her beforehand. Creating mock interviews and answers for Maggie to memorize. And they would have to work on it for an ungodly amount of time. Just so Maggie didn’t fuck up.

At the end of the day? Y/N knew that made her pathetic. And she understood that. But she had those hopes that one day she would stand out to Guy. At first she just allowed herself to stay hidden, but over the last year or two she had been doing things in attempt to get him to notice her. Hoping that he would finally see her as a person and not some random stranger standing in his way in the middle of the hallway at the office. That hope that she would one day become something just stuck with her, so she never gave up. Hoping that one day a miracle would happen and she’d finally get credit for the designer that she was. The talent she was capable of sharing.

Today had been a very shitty day already. And it was only ten in the morning.

Y/N was exhausted. She had started work at seven. But there was so much to do before Maggie showed up in the mornings. There was almost a list of chores that would have to be done that Maggie put Y/N in charge of, every single day. If she didn’t get them done? Maggie would often have a shitty day and that wasn’t something that Y/N was keen on. Because if Maggie had a bad day? That meant that Y/N had an even shittier day. So there was never time to sit and relax. Enjoying the day only happened after work hours.

Since they had lived in the city, Maggie had fallen in love with a coffee shop that she had found the week she had gotten the job at Vixen. So that meant every morning Y/N was expected to go out and get Maggie her favorite latte at this coffee shop. Being Maggie’s personal assistant? Yeah, that pretty much made Y/N her slave. And today? The coffee shop was running behind. So that meant she had to wait in an incredibly long line before Y/N could even get to the office. Maggie’s order was also very specific, so it wasn’t like it was something that she could just get quickly. The biggest problem though? This shop was five blocks away. That meant it put Y/N completely behind on her duties for the day. Which meant she had to rush through the New York City streets once she got the latte. And it was snowing. So not only did she have to fight prime time traffic to walk through, it was so much worse because of the weather. Which meant by the time she got back to the building, she was soaked. So not only was she tired and stressed, but she was also freezing. In her rush to the office, Y/N had almost been hit by a taxi that wasn’t paying attention to pedestrians. And that made her drop her coffee so she had nothing to warm up with either.

Rushing to Maggie’s office was hard. If it wasn’t the traffic of the people on the streets or the cars, it was waiting for the elevators to get where they needed to go. The office was in one of the tallest towers in New York where they were on a higher level. Because Maggie was one of the higher up employees, there was a special elevator that she got to take that would avoid all the stops. However, for Y/N who had just a simple job with the company? That meant she had to wait at the community elevator. And that took forever too. Being smashed into a very tiny space with many people wasn’t exactly her favorite thing to do every day.

Normally, Maggie got to the office anywhere between ten and eleven. Usually, it was around quarter to eleven. So there was a hope that Maggie still hadn’t gotten back yet. Once she reached the top floor, Y/N was quick to make her way out of the elevator toward Maggie’s office. Thankfully when she reached it, she saw that it was empty which gave her a huge sigh of relief. Most everyone in the office was always busy with their own things, so they wouldn’t have noticed Y/N coming in late. They probably rarely even noticed her in the first place.

Setting Maggie’s latte aside, Y/N gathered the things that Maggie would need for the day to make sure that she was prepared. There was an important meeting that Maggie had to attend this afternoon. Once those items were together in one place, Y/N sat down and started to go through Maggie’s messages, writing down the notes that she knew would be important. When she got to the e-mails, the sound of the door to the office being pushed open was heard. That did bring a certain amount of dread to Y/N, but she didn’t pull away from what she was doing. Still being incredibly focused, Y/N just kept scrolling through.

“I have almost everything set up for you,” she felt rushed, wishing that she was done by now. Her face flushed over with a warmth and her heart started racing. Truthfully? She fully expected Maggie to start having one of her shit fits. “I am so sorry that it took me this long, but you wouldn’t believe the day that I have been having. I was…”

Mid-sentence, Y/N felt the strength of someone pulling at the arm of her chair. A shocked breath fell from her lips when the weight of someone much smaller than her jumped into her arms. Scrambling to keep them from falling, Y/N pulled them close. Their arms hooked around Y/N’s shoulders tightly. A giggle filled the air when the familiar bright green eyes of the little girl in her arms pulled back.  

“Jordyn, you scared me half to death,” she exclaimed, the first smile she had all day tugging at her lips. Wrapping her arms back around the eight-year-old, Y/N gave her a big bear hug. This little girl was someone that Y/N had met when she was just a baby. Brushing her fingers through Jordyn’s dark hair, Y/N felt a sense of joy for the first time today. “My gosh. You know, it is so good to see you! It’s been way too long. I almost couldn’t take it.”

“It’s been three days,” Jordyn reminded Y/N with a tiny laugh when she pulled back from the hug. Hopping down from the chair, Jordyn ran back around the desk into the arms of her father, Negan Smith. Picking Jordyn up, Negan groaned when he balanced her in his one free arm that he had. Stealing a quick glance at Negan had a lump developing in Y/N’s throat. “Daddy, I scared her.”

“I saw that baby girl,” Negan smirked, nuzzling his nose in against his daughters. “That’s not very nice.”

“Oh, that’s not her fault,” Y/N stood up from the chair that she was seated in to playfully tickle at Jordyn’s sides. A boisterous laugh escaped Jordyn with her burying her head at the crook of Negan’s neck. “You know three days is just way too long for me not to see you.”

“I agree,” Jordyn wiggled in Negan’s arms, her green eyes locking with Y/N’s when she kicked her feet about. “We should make this a daily thing.”

“A daily thing? Well, I wouldn’t complain about that, but I don’t know how your father would feel,” Y/N winked, her gaze finally meeting Negan’s. In that moment Negan appeared to be smiling at that interaction the girl were sharing together enjoying the way that they were talking. There appeared to be a sense of awe in his hazel eyes. “What are the two of you doing here?”  

“Daddy got breakfast and coffee for Maggie,” Jordyn explained gagging at the idea of coffee, managing to get Negan to set her back down on the ground. Looking to Negan’s other hand, Y/N’s eyes fell upon the drink carrier that he had along with the small bag that was sitting at the center of it. Lowering back down into the desk chair, Y/N nodded her head and attempted to give half of her attention back to the e-mails hoping to finish them before Maggie got here. “Daddy got me a hot chocolate. They added peppermint to it and because they said I was special they added mini marshmallows. It’s really good. They even drew Santa on the side of my cup for me.”

“No way!” Y/N worked hard to give the same kind of energy back that Jordyn was giving her, just like she had always done. Jordyn tugged at Negan’s jacket, holding her hand up for her cup and Negan set down the carrier that he had. Putting the bag beside it, Negan handed Jordyn carefully her cup and Jordyn came over to show Y/N. Observing the cup Y/N’s got wide and she wanted to look as impressed as Jordyn clearly was about the hot chocolate. “That is so cool!”

“I thought so too,” Jordyn moved in beside Y/N to look at the screen observing all the words that were on it. Behind her big green eyes, Y/N could see confusion. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just finishing up going through some of Maggie’s e-mails for her,” Y/N explained, clicking away her e-mails and turning to face Jordyn again to give her the attention she deserved. Really, she could get back to them at any time whereas she actually enjoyed the time that she spent with Jordyn.  

“Where’s Maggie? Shouldn’t that be her job?” Negan’s deep, raspy voice stammered as he made his way to the other side of the desk to take a seat on the edge of it. Yeah, it was Maggie’s job, but Y/N really wondered if Maggie knew how to do it. Turning to Negan, Y/N felt her heartrate quicken. Just the sight of Negan took her breath away. With his beautiful hazel eyes. His extremely prominent dimples. Along with his charming smile and chiseled jawline. His facial hair was salt and pepper colored. His dark hair was slightly messy from when she assumed he pulled his hat off from coming inside from the snow. And then there was his cologne. God, he smelled good.

“She should be here soon,” Y/N forced herself to look away from Negan not wanting to gawk. Motioning Jordyn to wait, Y/N got up from where she was seated to go for her bag. Coming back, Y/N lowered back into her seat and started digging into her bag. Pulling something out, she went to hand it to Jordyn. Holding it out had Jordyn’s eyes growing big. “I saw this the other day at the Christmas market in Bryant Park. I thought you would like it.”

“Oh my God,” Jordyn grabbed the nutcracker that Y/N had picked up for her and turned it to face Y/N. It was a very ugly nutcracker which was something that Jordyn had been collecting ever since she was little. Nut crackers that no one else would want to buy. “Daddy look! It’s so ugly!”

“I see that honey,” Negan laughed, reaching out to grab the present that Y/N had gotten for Jordyn. Sweeping his finger over the nutcracker made a low rumble of an amused sound fall from his throat. “What do you say?”

“Thank you Y/N,” Jordyn hopped up to give Y/N another hug. Squeezing tightly to Y/N this time, burying her head against the side of Y/N’s neck. “You’ve added more to my collection than anyone. You always find the ugliest ones.”

“I don’t know if I should be proud of that or not,” Y/N teased, patting faintly at Jordyn’s back while she held onto her. “I just know how much you love them, so I’m always sure to keep an eye out for them every Christmas.”

“You’re too kind. You know that, right?” Negan stammered from where he was seated on the edge of the desk, his hand reaching out to place in over Y/N’s shoulder. It had her turning to look at him with Jordyn still in her arms. “You should really come over to see her collection at some point. We have these shelves that we made special for her to display them. She’s very proud of it.”

“It looks amazing,” Jordyn leaned back, throwing her hands out in the air dramatically. “You gotta see it Y/N.”

“One day, I’d love to,” Y/N winked noticing the way that Negan was stroking at her shoulder before giving it a firm squeeze again.

“I know you see Jordyn all the time, but it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to really see you. You know, other than in passing when we’re switching off Jordyn. Too long really,” Negan admitted, a muscle in his jaw flexing when he let his hand drop at his side. “I used to see you all the time when you and Maggie were living together in that apartment. Ever since she moved into her new apartment in East Village, I rarely see you anymore.”

“Yeah,” Y/N swallowed down hard feeling her chest aching at the thought of Negan. Being around Negan was very hard because this was another example of what Maggie had done to be a bad friend. And everyone close to Y/N knew it. Everyone except Negan of course.

Back when they were in school, Y/N wasn’t completely sold with fashion design when she started her first year. Fashion design was something she had always told herself that she wanted. But when she was younger, she loved making movies. It was something that she had found incredibly fun and did as a hobby. And she’d do it all. Create the costumes. Make the scripts. Film. Edit. Act. Everything. It was an art that also came easy to her. Just for so long, Y/N thought she enjoyed fashion design more. So when she went to college, she made a promise to her family that she would test out the idea of maybe getting a film degree if fashion design didn’t go through. Which led her to Negan.

Negan was originally Y/N’s film professor that she had taken a class with in her first year. That was eight years ago. At the time? Y/N hadn’t really heard much about Negan. It was an intro class and most of the boys that were in the class were losing their minds before Negan got to class about who their professor was. But it wasn’t because of what he did for the film industry. No, it was because Negan was originally a professional baseball player. And apparently a very good one. For years, he thrived playing that sport up until he got a really terrible injury where he was forced to retire young. Using the money that Negan had made through the years, Negan decided to focus his time after that on creating films. He had the resources and the money to do it, so he just went for it. And? He ended up being very good at it. What he had done had caught the attention of some big names in Hollywood. Which led to Negan winning multiple awards before he even reached the age of thirty. After meeting the love of his life and getting married, Negan had settled down. Decided to work less on films and put a lot of his effort into teaching. It meant that he got to be with his wife and spend more time with her.

From the moment that Negan walked into that classroom on the first day, Y/N had the biggest crush on him. Everything about him appealed to her. Negan wasn’t like most of the professors that she had. Right from the start he had the mouth of a sailor which made him slightly more fun than the others. And he was so relaxed in the way that he taught. He took things seriously, but he made things enjoyable for people. He dressed casual, he’d interact with his students and get to know them. He was a fun professor and it didn’t hurt that he was incredibly good looking.  

Of course, there was an age gap between them, but her crush was innocent in the beginning. Negan was married. And he talked about his wife all the time. Almost every class somehow his wife Lucille would be brought into some kind of discussion. And he was so excited to talk about their daughter that they had just had. That’s probably what also made him more appealing to Y/N. How good of a father and a husband he seemed to be. She had never seen a man love something so much and it just showed in everything that he did. She found Negan very sweet and she was charmed by him.

During those years, that was the class that she looked forward to the most. And she did amazing in that class because she wanted to stand out to Negan. During that first year, they would talk all the time. Even hours after class. About the film industry. Her future plans. Negan’s family and his past. They clicked really fast. A few times after class, Negan had even introduced her to Lucille and Jordyn when they would drop by to see him. And in some classes? Negan happily brought Jordyn in with him, strapping her to his chest in her baby carrier while he taught. It was adorable.

So even though her heart was set on fashion design, she kept taking Negan’s classes because she enjoyed them so much. During the second year at school, Negan’s wife had ended up getting pancreatic cancer. Unfortunately it took her quick and Negan was devastated by the loss of his wife. He would have meltdowns at school to the point she started helping him out with his classes. And when he wouldn’t show up to classes, she would come to help him with Jordyn. That’s why she was so close to Negan and Lucille’s daughter. Jordyn was still very young when her mother died, so Y/N helped to raise Jordyn.

Eventually with her help, Negan managed to pull himself out of his depression. There was one discussion in particular that made Negan get his shit together when she made him realize that while he was in pain, Jordyn needed him. And he had to fight for her. After that time period and the dedication Y/N had put into helping Negan, they became super close. Closer than they probably should have been.

At the time, she thought they flirted constantly. They spent most days together sharing meals and taking care of Jordyn together. Jordyn had latched on pretty quickly to Y/N and Negan would pay Y/N to help take care of his daughter even though she didn’t want his money. Most months, she would collect the money and then return it to one of Negan’s jackets when he wasn’t paying attention.

During her last year of college, Negan had convinced her to be his student teacher. Around that time she was seriously considering going into film by Negan’s suggestions. He always told her that she was too good to waste her time on fashion and he promised to help her in her career. During the years they spent time together, Negan never made a move on her. And she always assumed it was because she was his student. Maybe he was just being professional. There was a hope that when she graduated, something more would have come from their relationship. There had been a few times where they had near kisses and she thought they were on the verge of having something develop between them.

One day Maggie came to see Y/N while she was working late with Negan checking papers. At the time Maggie knew how much Y/N liked Negan. Hell, she was pretty much in love with Negan. And Maggie had already met Jordyn. Especially with how often Jordyn and Y/N were actually together. But that didn’t stop Maggie from flirting with Negan the moment she entered that room. At the time, Y/N hadn’t thought much about it because even though Negan was flirting back, that really didn’t mean anything. Negan flirted with pretty much everyone. That was just the kind of personality that he had.

A few weeks later, Negan showed up to Y/N’s apartment that she shared with Maggie. There was a big bouquet of flowers in his hands. When she opened the door, her mind immediately made up all kinds of scenarios about how Negan finally realized how he felt about her and that’s why he was there. To confess his feelings for her. But instead? They were for Maggie. It devastated Y/N. After Negan left that day, Maggie promised she wouldn’t let it go any further because she knew how Y/N felt about Negan.

That promise lasted a whole three days before Y/N came home to the apartment she shared with Maggie to find Negan and Maggie having sex on the couch together. It broke her heart. The man she had been in love with over the last four years was smitten with her best friend and Maggie accomplished to snag the heart of Negan in less than a few days. After that? Her heart was broken. Maggie had done a lot of shitty things in the past, but never something this big.

More than anything Y/N wanted to run away, but she didn’t have the money to get an apartment in the city alone. So she stayed. Depression ate away at her and the passion she had for things were gone. Now she was being forced to listen to Maggie and Negan having sex all the time. And truthfully? That was so hard to take. Knowing that her best friend had landed the man that she had been in love with for four years. With Y/N being upset, Maggie tried to explain that she couldn’t help herself. Negan was just too charming and she fell hard for him. Swearing that Negan was relentless in trying to get with her. And in attempts to make Y/N feel better, Maggie insisted that Negan wasn’t really Y/N’s type anyways. That eventually she would find someone better.

So not only did Maggie get Y/N’s dream job, but she also got Y/N’s dream man too. Maggie and Negan had been dating now for over four years. And for four years, she watched the man she loved be hopelessly in love with her best friend. Even though so many times she wanted to run away, to finally give up on Maggie, the promise she made to Hershel always lingered over her head.

Now, she was Maggie’s personal assistant and she rarely saw Negan other than when she would drop Jordyn off or pick her up. Or if she had to run some kind of chore for Maggie that involved Negan. What used to be a friendship where they would hang out almost every day slowly drifted when Maggie started dating him.

“I mean it, I really miss seeing you. You should come over and we can have binge night with the little one. I’m sure she’s told you, but she’s started to get obsessed with supernatural television shows. And she’s had her eye on one for a while,” Negan winked at Jordyn before nudging faintly at Y/N’s shoulder. “I also got some cool video games that no one else will play with me. We used to play together all the time and I miss it.”

“What? Maggie doesn’t play video games with you?” Y/N wondered and immediately it drew a deep raspy laugh from Negan’s throat. Placing his hand in over the center of his chest, Negan’s nose wrinkled and he shook his head. “I’ll take that as a no?”

“That’s definitely a no,” Negan agreed with her, his dimples growing more visible with his laughter. “You know she hates that shit. Big time.”

“She always yells at daddy when he plays,” Jordyn informed Y/N with a sigh, heading over to the couch in Maggie’s office after snatching her nutcracker back from Negan. “She thinks there are better things he can do with his time.”

“Sounds like Maggie,” she admitted with a weak a smile noticing the way that Negan was staring down at her. “Is something wrong?”

“You looked soaked,” Negan replied back, outstretching his hand to touch at her hair to feel that it was wet beneath his fingertips. “What happened?”

“Oh, Maggie likes me to pick up a certain coffee for her in the morning,” she nodded toward the cup that was sitting on the desk. “It’s a shop about five blocks away. It just started snowing really bad, but I’ll be fine.”

“You’re gonna get sick,” Negan commented, getting up from the desk to pull his thick winter jacket off. Setting it aside for a minute, Negan started to pull off the red flannel shirt that he was wearing revealing a white t-shirt underneath. Motioning her to stand, she immediately shook her head and Negan hushed her. “Take the shirt off and put this on. It will keep you warm.”

“I shouldn’t,” she admitted looking to the shirt that Negan was offering her. Without further talking, Negan reached for her and pulled her up from the chair. Gasping out, she almost fell forward when Negan started to open the sweater jacket that she was wearing. Getting it off her, Negan motioned her to wait and headed over to the window where the heater was near it. Hanging it over the side, Negan moved back and motioned her to turn around. Thankfully she had been wearing an undershirt beneath that sweater. “Negan?”

“Hold your arms out,” he instructed her with a warmth flooding into her cheeks. Doing as she was told, she allowed him to pull his shirt up over her body and she let out a long sigh. Once it was on her, she immediately smelled his cologne that she had become heavily attracted to whenever she would smell it outside in public. Maybe it was because she was so attracted to Negan and that was his scent. Either way, the shirt smelled really nice and it was warm when she pulled it in closer to her. “Good?”

Instead of saying anything, she simply nodded. Turning her to face him, Negan caressed over her shoulders as if he was waiting to warm her up, “It would be really nice if you could join us for Christmas this year. I know that you’re gonna be alone and Maggie talked about it. I’d love having you come over to the house. Jordyn would love it too.”

“Yes! Very much so!” Jordyn agreed with her father, kicking her feet a bit and giving that same cheesy over the top smile that Negan would often give Y/N. Even though Jordyn had some of her mother’s features, there was so much of Negan inside of Jordyn. Both in her attitude and her physical appearance. “I have some presents for you.”

“You didn’t have to get me presents sweetheart,” she insisted with a frown, knowing that she felt strange about this whole situation.

“Of course I do,” Jordyn retorted with a firm shake of her head. “You help take care of me when daddy needs help. You always have. And you’re with me multiple times during the week. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well that just won me over,” Y/N felt a warmth flood throughout her body. Heading over to the couch, she sat down next to Jordyn and squeezed her arm tightly around Jordyn’s shoulders. “You are so special. And I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” Jordyn hooked her arms around Y/N to squeeze her tightly in her embrace. Negan was watching them from afar with a weak smile tugging at his lips. Heading over toward them, he pushed his hands into his pockets and let out a long sigh. “Daddy says it all the time too. He doesn’t know what he would do without you.”

“I’m sure he would be just fine,” Y/N suggested since their relationship was nothing like it used to be since he started dating Maggie. The only thing she was to Negan was a prominent female figure in Jordyn’s life.  And even though they weren’t together, she was still very much helping him to raise Jordyn. “He has Maggie.”

“You and Maggie are vastly different,” Negan alerted her with a tip of his head. If only he meant that in a way that would actually mean something to her. That was something that Y/N had originally wished for from the beginning. “I can count on you. Maggie is…well she’s Maggie.”

“Am I hearing my name?” a voice interrupted their conversation and it drew Negan to look back over his shoulder to see that Maggie was entering the space. Moving through the office, Maggie reached her arm out to hook it around Negan’s shoulders when he turned to embrace her. Bringing their lips together in a lingering kiss, Maggie hummed against Negan’s lips and it forced Y/N to look away. There was always that sense of jealousy that lingered when Y/N saw the two of them together. “What were we talking about?”

“How different you and Y/N were,” Negan responded truthfully, his mouth hovering over Maggie’s. A smile tugged at his handsome features before he peppered a few more kisses over Maggie’s lips. “Mhmm, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Maggie dragged her palms down over the center of Negan’s chest. Y/N looked to Jordyn who rolled her eyes and went back to playing with the present that Y/N had gotten her. “What are you doing here babe?”

“Jordyn and I decided to bring you some breakfast,” Negan answered, nodding over toward the bag that they had brought along with the coffee. “I guess it’s more so brunch now and it may be a little cold, but…”

“That was very sweet,” Maggie brushed her fingers through Negan’s short beard, lifting up just enough to nuzzle her nose against Negan’s.

“Although, I think Y/N went out to go get you coffee. So I can probably just give the coffee to Y/N so she has something to warm herself up,” Negan gazed back at Y/N sitting with Jordyn, but Maggie grabbed Negan’s chin firmly forcing him to look at her. Kissing him a few more times, Maggie was making sure to draw it out and it had Y/N’s heart pounding inside of her chest.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I think I would love your coffee way more than anything else,” Maggie released Negan and headed over toward the latte that Y/N had gotten for her. Holding it up, she stepped on the foot lever to get the trash to open. Dropping it in the trash had Y/N’s lips parting. She wanted to say something, but instead she bit her tongue when Maggie rubbed her hands together and moved to grab the coffee that Negan had gotten for her. Of course Maggie didn’t think to give her the latte because that wasn’t the way that Maggie thought. Taking a sip, Maggie paused and by the expression over her face, Y/N knew that Maggie hated the coffee. “This is fantastic. I’m so glad that you got it for me.”

“If that’s her liking it face, I’d hate to see what her face looked like when she hated something,” Jordyn lifted up to whisper in Y/N’s ear. Both of them giggled which drew Maggie’s attention to them. How close Y/N was to Jordyn was always something Maggie was uncomfortable with after she started dating Negan. Because Maggie never bonded with Jordyn like Y/N did.

“What are you wearing?” Maggie wondered, her eyes narrowing when she observed Y/N’s body slowly. Looking down, Y/N noticed that Maggie was talking about Negan’s flannel that she was wearing. Staring at it a moment of scrutiny. “Don’t let Guy catch you wearing that. He will throw you out for the day and I need you here.”

“She was cold. She got soaked being outside,” Negan pointed out in Y/N’s direction which had Maggie looking her over more thoroughly. “So I just gave her my shirt. I thought it would be better for her to be warm instead of having her freeze. The last thing that you want is your assistant getting pneumonia.”

Cringing, Y/N hated to hear Negan refer to her as Maggie’s assistant. That was what she was though. So maybe she needed to get over that. Maggie sold it to her as her ‘partner’ but she was just a glorified slave. Embarrassment flooded her veins. Four years ago Negan thought she was good enough to sell to film studios to hire her on. Now she was working as someone’s personal assistant. He probably thought she was pathetic. Then again, he probably really didn’t think about her much to begin with.

“You always have to be so logical,” Maggie muttered, stepping forward to reach out and palm in over the side of Negan’s face. His long eyelashes fluttered leaning in closer to her to meet her halfway. Humming against his lips, Maggie smiled and then back stepped toward her desk. In just the small amount of time with Maggie being there, she had made it very obvious to stress to Y/N that Negan was hers. Setting her personal items down, Maggie moved over toward the couch to take a seat on the opposite side of Jordyn. Upon seeing the ugly nutcracker that Jordyn was playing with, Maggie’s nose wrinkled and she reached out to grab it. “I’ll never understand why you love these things so much.”

“They are so ugly,” Jordyn blurt out excitedly, kicking her feet a bit when she pointed to the nutcracker that Maggie was now observing. “They’re so ugly that they are cute.”

“I told you hun, she’s always had a thing for them,” Negan reminded Maggie getting her eyes to lift to his from where she was seated. “The uglier things are? The better for her.”

“It’s because I want to prove that even the ugliest things are loveable to someone. You can’t just leave them there for no one to buy,” Jordyn exclaimed with a frown reaching for the nutcracker from Maggie. “I like my collection.”

“I know you do baby,” Negan lowered down, outstretching his hand to brush his fingers through his daughter’s dark hair. A moment passed where all of them were silent. Clearing his throat, Negan looked to Maggie, offering up one of his charming smiles. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“What’s tonight?” confusion flooded Maggie’s green eyes and she looked to Y/N to save her. Only, Negan didn’t give her the time to do so.

“That event at the school,” Negan reminded Maggie, his head bobbing about. “We’ve only talked about it a million times. The one where potential donators come in and they get a feel for what the school can offer. We have people come in from influential jobs to talk about how their classes got them in the career they are in today. We’ve talked about it a lot hun.”

“Oh, right. That,” Maggie’s mouth parted into the shape of an o. It was obvious that Maggie was trying to come up with some kind of response. Shifting on the couch uneasily, Maggie slid further away from Jordyn and bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry Negan, but an important meeting with a client came up tonight. Guy and I are supposed to meet them for dinner.”

“When did that happen?” Y/N panicked, reaching for her phone to pull out her calendar. “I have nothing in the schedule.”

“It only was just confirmed with me when I was on the elevator to get up here,” Maggie explained to Y/N, holding her hand out to get Y/N to lower her phone down. “Guy was on the elevator at the same time and he reminded me of it. It’s a very important client and he wants me to be there.”

“Maggie,” Negan frowned, his jaw flexing and visible disappointment filled his hazel eyes. “You knew about this. About how important this was for the school. You were one of the big names on the list for people.”

“And I’m sorry this turned out the way it did, but work is more important,” Maggie stressed to Negan throwing her arm about in the air while she spoke. “I’d love to go to this with you because you know how much I love going places with you, but this is one thing I can’t get out of. You’re a big enough name.”

“But I’m for the film department. You were supposed to be the lead for the fashion department Maggie. That’s two totally different areas. People coming for that aren’t gonna wanna see me,” Negan stressed, standing up slowly. His hands pressed in over his hips, his body language showing that he was unhappy. “If you were gonna cancel, you should have told me long before today. That way I could have gotten someone that could replace you.”

“I can’t help it Negan,” Maggie defended herself placing her hand in over the center of her chest, her head shaking swiftly from side to side. “This only came about today. If I would have known that it was going to happen, I would have told you.”

A grunt escaped Negan’s lips and he rolled his eyes. A muscle was flexing at the corner of his jaw as it often would when he would get irritated or angry with someone. Maggie was waiting for some kind of response from Negan, but at this point? She wasn’t getting it.

“You know how it is Negan. Around Christmas time, my job gets really busy,” Maggie tried to defend herself realizing that she was losing in her defense with her last-minute cancelation. Looking around the room, Maggie’s green eyes locked with Y/N’s and she gasped. Snapping her fingers, she got Negan’s attention and pointed at Y/N. “Make Y/N go instead! She works here too. She knows my job inside and out. I guarantee she would be able to give the speech.”

“Maggie, they wouldn’t want me,” Y/N responded immediately realizing that she was a no-name. Whereas people actually knew who Maggie was. Sure, she knew the speech inside and out because she had written it for Maggie. As well as made a pdf along with a video for Maggie to share. There was no question that she knew this whole thing more than Maggie ever did, but that didn’t excuse that no one would want her over Maggie. “I’m a no one. No one even knows my name.”

“But you work hand-in-hand with me,” Maggie countered, standing up from the couch. Waving her hand back and forth between Negan and Y/N, Maggie was desperately trying to get the two of them to agree. “Y/N, you know that you knew this stuff.”

“She might have something to do tonight,” Negan stressed, shaking his head. It was obvious that he was still upset with Maggie. “This is very last-minute Maggie. For me, for her.”

“She never has anything she has to do,” Maggie defended herself and it had Y/N huffing out. Looking to Jordyn, Y/N noticed that Negan’s daughter was just watching the whole situation play out in front of her. “Come on Y/N. You know just as well as I do that if I need you, no matter what you are available.”

“It’s my job,” Y/N stressed to Maggie who grumbled under her breath and then lowered her head into her hand. With how Negan was reacting to things, it was obvious that Negan didn’t think she was a good enough replacement for Maggie. “He doesn’t want me there.”

“That’s…that’s not true,” Negan replied back with a sense of empathy over what she just said. “I don’t mind you coming, but…”

“Then it should be fine,” Maggie interrupted him so she could stop any worries or negative thoughts about the idea that she came up with. “All we have to do is have her replace me. I assure you that the speech is going to be great.”

“I don’t think you’re realizing why this is upsetting to me,” Negan grumbled under his breath noticing that Maggie didn’t seem to realize where the problem was. “I don’t have a problem with her stepping in. My problem here is that we promoted you. People are going to expect you to be there. And dropping out of things last second is not really cool Maggie.”

“Oh no, I understand that,” Maggie assured him, stepping to him and placing her hand in over the center of Negan’s chest getting their eyes to lock. “I understand that I will have to make it up to you. And if I didn’t have this last-minute meeting, I wouldn’t be doing this to you.”

“A lot of people are going to be disappointed,” Negan thought aloud, lowering his stare to watch Maggie stroking at the center of his chest. It didn’t take much to see that gradually Negan was getting less angry with Maggie. Sighing loudly, Negan shrugged his shoulders with his eyebrows bouncing up. “You do owe me Maggie.”

“And I intend to follow through,” Maggie whispered lifting her hand to tap lightly at Negan’s nose. Tugging at Negan’s jacket, Maggie got him to lower down enough so she could steal another kiss from his lips.

Separating, Negan sighed loudly and looked to Y/N. Throwing his hands up in the air, he seemed at a loss for words, “Are you available to replace Maggie tonight? If you came to the event, it would help me out. Having someone to talk is better than having no one to talk. I’d owe you one.”

The look in his hazel eyes were almost pleading and it made Y/N’s throat go dry. Giving a small nod of her head, Y/N knew that she couldn’t turn Negan down when he was asking her for a favor, “I’ll find a way to make time.”

“I’ll text you over the details as soon as I can. Thank you for doing this Y/N,” Negan stammered, his dimples prominent while he thought of something more to say. “I just have to find a way to make it make sense to the board.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal honey,” Maggie reached out to squeeze over Negan’s shoulders and then headed back toward her desk. Negan went to say something to bicker back with Maggie, but the way he slouched forward showed that he knew that it would have been useless to do so anyways.

“I think me and Jordyn are gonna take off. We are supposed to meet one of her friends at Bryant Park for some ice skating,” Negan informed the two of them, reaching out to help Jordyn up from the couch. “We’ll make sure to drop this guy off first though so we can make sure he can be with rest of your collection.”

“Thank you again!” Jordyn boasted, running to Y/N to give her another big hug. “You always have the best gifts.”

“And you always give the best hugs,” Y/N hummed, giving Jordyn one final big squeeze. Standing up from the couch, Y/N gave Negan a nod not sure how she should say goodbye to him at this point. When they were close, they were hugging all the time. Now, it just felt awkward. “I hope you both have a good time.”

“Oh, I’m sure she will,” Negan curled his arm around his daughter’s shoulders pulling her in closer to him. “Thanks again Y/N.”

“I’ll call you tonight after everything,” Maggie waved goodbye to both Negan and Jordyn as they worked their way out of her office. There was a fake smile plastered over Maggie’s features when they looked back at her from where they were standing by the elevator. Once they were on the elevator and it was closed, Maggie finally relaxed and slouched forward. Looking to the latte that Negan had gotten her, Maggie groaned and shoved it out toward Y/N. “Take this. I don’t want it.”

“Well I don’t want it after you’ve drank from it,” Y/N muttered, her eyes looking down toward the cup with disgust. “We’re close Maggie, but I’m not really interested in sharing germs with you.”

“Oh please, my germs are perfect,” Maggie pushed the drink further toward Y/N who had to grab the cup otherwise it may have spilled everywhere. “I don’t care what you do with it. Just throw it away. That was disgusting. I can’t believe you allowed me to throw away my other latte for that.”

“Maggie, I can’t make you do anything,” Y/N countered moving over toward the trash to throw away the latte that Maggie no longer wanted. Almost immediately after throwing out the latte, Y/N gasped when Maggie threw her the bag of food that Negan had brought for her. Luckily she caught it after fumbling with it for a moment. “You want me to throw this away too?”

“You can eat it. I already had breakfast,” Maggie explained searching for something in one of her drawers. “I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet, so it’s perfect for you.”

“Thanks Maggie,” Y/N set the bag on the corner of Maggie’s desk. Moving over toward the couch, Y/N knew that her laptop was on the coffee table that was in front of it and there were a lot of things she had to get started on.

A loud, exaggerated gasp was heard making Y/N jump when she looked to Maggie who had shot up from the seat that was at her desk, “Damn it Y/N! Couldn’t you have at least wiped off the seat? We should have gotten you a towel or something with how wet you were.”

“Sorry Maggie,” Y/N apologized, fighting hard to avoid rolling her eyes at her overreaction.

“And you didn’t even get through all the e-mails?” Maggie stammered provoking a long sigh from Y/N in response. Great, today was obviously headed for a shitty day. “You’re slacking a little bit.”

“It took longer to get back to the office this morning with this storm and walking,” Y/N explained, getting comfortable on the couch and preparing her laptop. “Also, Negan and Jordyn showing up distracted me for a few.”

“Those sound like excuses Y/N,” Maggie suggested, tapping her fingers on the desk. Suddenly it felt like Y/N was being scolded by someone of authority and like Y/N was a child. “You know what I say. If you have to make excuses about things not being done it means that you’re not taking your job seriously and I need you to take it seriously.”

“I’m not being dismissive with my job, Maggie. I assure you I’m taking things very seriously,” Y/N declared with an uncomfortable sound. It felt like her throat was closing up with Maggie’s green eyes still staring out at her. “What do you want me to say Maggie?”

“I want you to tell me it won’t happen again,” Maggie stressed and it had Y/N faintly laughing. “Is that funny? You know that you only have this job because you were my best friend Y/N. I could probably find someone that is more eager to have this job.”

“No, it’s not funny at all,” Y/N bit down on her bottom lip, getting angry that Maggie was now threatening her position over a few unanswered e-mails. Maggie would be lost without Y/N. So even the idea that Maggie would threaten her job was amusing in itself. “Sorry Maggie, I’ll make sure to get things done faster from here on out.”

“See to that,” Maggie breathed, her eyes going back to the screen to skim over the things that were still left on the computer.

From the couch Y/N stared out at Maggie. After four years at this company, Y/N didn’t even have a desk. She did most of her work from Maggie’s couch or used Maggie’s desk whenever she wasn’t there. Even though Maggie had gotten her this job where they were supposed to be partners, they weren’t even close.

In this moment, it was hard not to consider life and her choices. A promise to Maggie’s father had caused Y/N to become a slave to her best friend. One where she did all the work to make Maggie look good. All Maggie was in this company was a face. Y/N wasn’t really sure what Maggie really did other than share what were mostly Y/N’s designs and ideas. Y/N did everything for Maggie and she didn’t even make a quarter of what Maggie did in terms of salary.

There were moments where Y/N considered if she should really keep putting up with this. Putting all her efforts and talents into Maggie when she didn’t get any recognition whatsoever. Why had she wasted this much time doing this to begin with? For some reason today, everything was just hitting Y/N harder and it was stressing her out more than normal.

There was a knock at the door that drew both of them to look up. Guy Vixen stood at the door, gazing upon Maggie. As always, the owner of the company was dressed in something unbelievably expensive. Vibrant colors added emphasis to his look making sure to always have him stand out. Guy was originally an English model that took advantage of the sources he had and became one of the most successful fashion designers in the world. No matter when you saw Guy, his appearance was always perfect. His nails nicely manicured. His dark hair gelled to perfection. You couldn’t miss him in a crowd. That was for sure. Not just because he was a good-looking guy, but also because he wouldn’t let you miss him. He had to be the center of attention no matter where he was.

“Well don’t just look at me with those doe eyes. Are you ready?” Guy had been holding the door open, his hand waving at Maggie to get up.

“Of course,” Maggie stood up quickly, fixing the dress that she was wearing. Smoothing it over her hips, Maggie moved around the desk and gave a big smile. “Let me grab my notes.”

Watching Maggie’s movements, Y/N knew that in the corner of the room was the drawings for the presentation that Maggie was supposed to do. Yesterday they had talked about them since Y/N had finished them off for Maggie, but it seemed like Maggie was oblivious to them.

“You,” Guy snapped his fingers at Y/N to get her attention. Well that was a first. Usually Guy was oblivious to her existence. Now? Guy’s brown eyes were gazing her over and she felt her heartrate quicken. Suddenly Maggie’s warning was repeating in her mind about what she was wearing. “What are you wearing?”

Damn, Maggie was right. Looking down, Y/N tugged at Negan’s shirt that he had given her to wear in order to warm up, “It’s flannel?”

“Cute,” Guy simply stated, his head tipping to the side. A surprised expression flooded Maggie’s features that Guy would even say something like that to begin with. “It’s very vintage.”

“Thank you,” Y/N offered up a weak smile, not sure how to respond since that wasn’t the response that she was expecting.

“You ready?” Maggie outstretched her hand to grab a hold of Guy’s arm.

“Yes darling, let’s go,” Guy started to lead Maggie away, but Y/N cleared her throat.

“Maggie,” Y/N called out to Maggie who looked frustrated that Y/N would even call out to her in the first place. “Are you forgetting something?”

“What could I possibly be for…” Maggie started, but Y/N nodded over toward the corner of the room where the materials for the presentation were. A sudden realization flooded through Maggie and she swiftly headed over toward that corner to grab everything. “Yes. You were right. Wouldn’t want to forget these.”

As they were leaving the room, Y/N started to go back to work only to hear Guy whisper, “Who was that again?”

“It’s my assistant,” Maggie muttered under her breath and hearing that made Y/N let out a tense, muted laugh. And there it was. The true label that Maggie had always planned out for her. Y/N was a fool to assume anything else. And each day only proved to her how she was going to be stuck in this very role until the end of time.

----

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[lunajay33]

Precious🩵

Summary: Reader gets separated from Daryl at the start and finds a farm with a wonderful family, she finds out she’s pregnant and one thing leads to another and a new group settles onto the farm

•Masterlist•

I waited for Daryl at our little house in the small town we grew up in, I had been gone to the city for the day when everything happened, I was able to find a car and drive back home praying that Daryl would be there waiting for me but I knew it would be a long shot, I waited for a few days until the food ran out and decided if I was ever going to find him again then I’ll have to go find him myself

So I pack up my bag with essentials, clothes, water, snacks that were left over and weapons for Daryl’s hunting collection, I drove for what felt like forever no signs of human life only blood and rotting corpses who some how took over the earth

I came to the interstate seeing the cars upon cars piled up blocking my way so I turned around hoping to find a back road to get around when I spotted a sign “Greene’s Farm” if the farm was still standing maybe it could have some food or more water, as I pulled up the drive way to a large white farm house people filtered out, it felt surreal to see people, live people

I got out of the car as the came down the stairs, it was an older man a girl around my age and a younger blonde, then what seemed to be an older couple and a younger boy

“How’d you find this place?” The man with the white hair asked

“I’ve been on the road looking for my husband, I got turned around in the road and saw your farm sign, I just need some rest” I say as I run my hand down my belly

When I went to the city when everything happened I found out I was pregnant and I was over the moon about finally starting a family with Daryl but now I’m scared, scared about delivery, this baby never meeting their wonderful father

The man noticed my movement and his harsher demeanor changed to one of pity

“Come dear we’ll get something set up for you”

They let me settle in the spare room after feeding me some eggs and fresh fruit, the house was cozy and they are lovely people but I can’t help that feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling I always got when Daryl would be gone too long, he always soothed me even if he didn’t talk much he showed me comfort with actions of love and care

Whenever he scrounged up enough money he’d buy me little gifts, he got me a silver necklace with a bow on it which I never take off, I never got a wedding ring because I refused and said we should keep the money for the future and that I don’t need some diamond to show my love for him

“Knock knock” I look up to the doorway and see Maggie standing there with a wide smile

“Daddy wanted me to check on you, well both of you”

“Oh yes I think we’re okay, I only found out about two weeks ago”

“That’s when you first had symptoms?” She asked as she sat next to me on the bed

“Yeah, the nausea and a little bump”

“I’d say you’re about two months pregnant then, signs only show up later, does the father know?” I shock my head feeling my heart clench in pain

“I never got the chance, I don’t even know where he is but somehow in my heart I believe we will find our ways back to each other” she ran a comforting hand up my back and smiled

“You’ll find him sweetheart you never know what might happen!” She said before she left the room giving me space to finally rest

It’s been 2 months now on the farm and it was peaceful for some reason this farm has gone untouched from the world that’s filled with death, I haven’t stopped looking for Daryl, every other day I’d search farther and farther out but there was no sign, as I was walking back to the farm I saw two men and Otis running through the field, I got back to the house and Maggie told me of everything that was happening, Otis accidentally shot the boy who Hershel was working on now

I sat outside on the steps as the young boys father came out obviously in shock covered in blood, he sat next to me completely disheveled, I took a rag I had in my pocket and wiped some blood he smeared on his face

“Hershel is a good surgeon and a great man, your son is in good hands” my words seemed to calm him down and what he needed right now was a distraction it seems

“I remember when my wife found out she was pregnant with Carl, we were young but I was excited this little life was gonna be born, so how far along are you?”

“About 4 months now, I’m not sure if it’s a boy or girl, I got separated from the father when I found out but I’ve kept looking, I know he’s out there, he’s a stubborn man but god is he strong and pretty smart too”

“Yeah I know the type, got a man like that back in our group, we lost a little girl and he’s been looking for her day and night”

“Maggie should be back soon she must have found your group by now, it’ll be okay” almost as if she heard me I see her horse ride up the field with cars following, then I hear the rumble of a motorcycle and it brought back so many memories I had with Daryl, when he’d work on his bike I’d sit with him, when we’d go for a drive at night together, moments I kept dear to my heart, zoned out in nostalgic thought I didn’t notice the group coming to the steps

“Y/n?” The grumble to the voice that I fell in love with, I look up to see him standing there just as the day I last saw him still as handsome, I couldn’t stand up fast enough before I was pulled off the stairs and into his arms

“I can’t believe it’s you, I looked everywhere, I missed you so much Daryl” I cried into his shoulder as his group was most likely watching this moment unwind

“It’s me sunshine, I found ya” he pulled back and we just looked into each others eyes for some time before he looked me over stopping abruptly on my belly

He opened his mouth but he seemed to be at a lose for words

“It’s yours if that’s what you’re wondering?”

“My baby?” He asked placing his hands on either side of my bump

“Yeah our lil baby Dixon”

After everything settled down and people set up tents I decided to stay with Daryl since they were using my room for Carl, I was sitting across from him on my sleeping bag and he couldn’t take his eyes off my bump

“Do you want to feel?” He thought for a moment before he nodded, I lifted my ivory dress just above my belly feeling his warm hands caress my bare skin

“How did this happen?”

“Well remember that night you came back from the bar with Merle and I was wearing my pink sundress you love” realization dawned as a blush crossed his face

“Yeah that’s how it happened” I laugh missing how easily it is to embarrass him

“Where have you been?” I asked as we laid next to each other

“Found a camp outside of Atlanta with Merle, idiot went and got himself stuck on a roof don’t know where he is now, then we went to the CDC and that was a bust then that leads to now finally some sanity with ya”

“I’m just glad you didn’t get bite, the farms been secure so I haven’t had any troubles”

“And ya never have to with me ‘round”

It’s been 6 months and Daryl and I had a beautiful 1 month old baby girl, it was painful giving birth but with Daryl by my side it made it a bit easier, hopeful

She was a wonderful little thing, barely fussy, brown hair light blue eyes just like Daryl, and he was over the moon about her he praised me over and over for giving him such a gift he treasured

We were able to move into the house to make it more comfortable for the three of us, we named her Lily because Carl thought it suited her perfectly so we just went with it

I walked into the room seeing Daryl sat on the bed with her in his arms her little hands reaching to pull on his now grown out hair, I sat beside them curling up to Daryl’s side

“She loves you so much D”

“Not as much as I love her”

“You know I think she’s your favourite”

“Nah she loves us both sunshine, I love ya”

“I love you too Daryl, forever”

[wrtzia]

In another life - bsf!Carl Grimes

Summary ; In which one Reader gets bitten. Takes place after the prison fall.

Warning ; Sadness, kinda su!c!de ? (Reader stops themself from turning), mention of death, I think that's all.

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∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──

When you first met him, it was in Atlanta. You were just two kids whose life took an unexpected turn. You wouldn’t qualify yourself a kid anymore, even if every adult liked to call you one, especially Glenn. Sure you were only 13, but after everythings you went through in those two years, you clearly grew up a lot.

You were reckless, the both of you were. You were each other's other half, identical. You always considered him your best friend, and you were his as well. He was there when your lost your brother, your dad, even the squirrel you decided to adopt at Hershel's house. You were there when Shane told him he lost his father, there when he lost his mother, but you weren’t there anymore.

You were the one leaving.

After the fall of the prison, you, Carl and his dad locked yourself into a house. His dad was in pretty bad shape so the two of you explored the village to find supplies. You went inside a house, where you and the boy separated ; you walked up the stairs and into a room, where two walkers were. Your knife pierced the first one’s brain but before you could turn to the second, your shoulder was bitten. You let out a scream, well heard by the brown who rushed upstairs to kill it.

Now you were back where you had first left Rick, asleep on the couch. You were sitting on the floor, your back against the wall, Carl beside you. He was sitting with his knees near his chest and his head on them.

“..I can’t lose you too..Not now” Carl’s words were shaky, his eyes teary even though you couldn’t see them. “..Not after Mom and with Dad like that..” you look at him, your eyes showing your own fear. Dying has always been one of your biggest fears, right after spiders. But now you know that if you die, you wouldn’t be alone. You would join your family, the group members, and Carl’s mom.

And you will be able to take care of him.

A single tear left your eye, “I’m sorry, Carl.’’ your shaky hand grabbed his before weakly squeezing it. “..But I’ll look after you. And Judith..I’ll stay with you, I promise. And the old you will join me in years when you’ll die. ..I’ll wait for you”

Carl’s eyes meet yours, scanning your face before eventually letting out a sigh. His hand wipes his wet cheeks as he says, “I'm gonna miss you..A lot..” the boy shakes his head, “we’ll see again..? Promise ?”

You let out a small smile, “In another life.” He nods, thinking about your words. “..In another life..” The both of you glanced at the knife in your hand before meeting eyes. That's not what neither of you wanted, but when someone gets bit, dead is the only solution. Before Carl could speak, your hand squeezed the knife. “I’ll do it, myself.”

After everything he went through, Carl doesn't deserve to kill his best friend. He doesn't need another trauma. He looks at you and hesitantly nods as you use the last of your strength to get up. With the help of Carl, you lock yourself in a bathroom and take a big breath.

For 5 minutes you just stayed there, sitting on the toilet lid, the knife in your left hand. Your whole body was shaking, both from the fear and weakness. You gave a last look at the door before grabbing the letter you wrote a few minutes after getting bit. On it, you wrote your feelings to Carl, going from how you were thankful for his friendship to how in another life, you two would be married. 

Your shaky hands put the letter beside you, making sure to not put it too near so that blood wouldn’t stain it. “I can do it.” you close your eyes and bring the knife to your temple, the sentence running in your head as you take your life away. ‘’In another life, Carl.’’ 

And with that, your heart takes his last beat, leaving your best friend alone with a dying dad. 

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I don't really like the end, but that's the best I could come with. Let me know if I made any spelling mistakes, or how to write better ! Any advice is welcome !

My request are open ! :)

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@katscloudy

[cmdr-graves]

10:47am. He's been in that meeting for-fucking-ever. Lieutenant Maroni has never been one for patience, she likes things to be convenient. Immediate. Waiting makes it feel like her skin needs to bitten off - usually by her. Instead she's opted for gnawing on one of Phil's good pens, some kind of punishment for taking so long, even though she knows it's likely Hershel holding him back.

Either way, she got him coffee. The good coffee, from off-base. Two brown sugars, four shots of espresso, topped up with scalding water and a splash of cream. Specifically cream. She may or may not have threatened the barista to get it right.

She'd tried behaving when she first got into his office, sitting in the visitor chair, keeping her hands to herself - that lasted all of about five minutes. She's now sat in his chair, chewing on his pen, reading through his paperwork and judging his handwriting, and she makes no attempt to hide it when she hears him come in.

"Joder, por fin. Kept me fucking waiting, jefe."

There's already a pinch behind his eye as he steps into his office. As much as he tried to avoid the bureaucracy with the Shadows, he just couldn't seem to escape it.

His eyes flick from Maroni to his clearly disturbed paperwork, then the chewed pen in her hand, and lastly the cup of coffee on his desk. Rabid fucking dog was right.

In a better mood, he would have thanked her before he grabs the paper cup and took a swig. Now, however, she only gets a look of approval when he tastes it.

"Jesus, don't you start naggin' me too." His foot connects with the leg of his chair she's sitting in. "Get up."

[dixondystopia]

~A day to remember~

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Authors note: This was written for @dixons-sunshine ! Hope you like it :)

Summary: ~Today is the day you and Daryl get married~

Word count: 1k

Warnings: None! Just fluff

As dusk settled in, the sky began to paint itself glorious shades of orange and purple, the undersides of clouds glowing a soft shade of pink. With the beauty of spring came the blooming of wildflowers, the fenced in yard of the prison speckled with the multicolored buds. They had handled the few Walkers that had lined the fence an hour prior, leaving the space quiet, a rare amount of calm settling in. It was perfect. It was set.

Daryl stood with his hands behind his back, chewing on his bottom lip to deal with the nerves. He was dressed the nicest you had ever seen him; he wore a button-up flannel shirt Carol had found for him. He had begrudgingly let Carol brush out his hair as well, acting as though it was a hassle when in reality he was glad for the assistance. For the first time in his life, he wanted to look nice. For you, and only you.

Hershel was standing next to him, a book in one hand and a crutch tucked under his other arm.

There was no music, other than the sounds of songbirds and the wind, but that was ok. Silence was a treasure in itself.

Rick and Michonne stood at one end of the matted down section of grass, both looking towards Daryl with small smiles. When Hershel gave them a small nod, Rick extended his elbow to Michonne. She watched him for a moment before taking his arm, smiling as she did so. The two began walking down the make-shift aisle.

Glenn and Maggie followed them, hand in hand. They were followed by Carol and Beth, who held Judith, the toddler grinning as she threw flower petals about, fully enjoying herself.

Finally, it was your turn.

Everyone watched as you slowly walked down the aisle, white fabric trailing behind you. Your dress was absolutely stunning. You and Maggie had found it on a supply run, the marbled white wedding dress in somehow perfect condition. Beth had taken it upon herself to decorate it further with the blooms and buds of wildflowers, turning it into the beauty it was today. The dress, while it was the most beautiful dress Daryl had ever seen, was nothing in comparison to you, the most beautiful amazing girl he had ever met. His girl. His bride.

Daryl smiled broadly as he watched you, his face filled with love and pride. A warm feeling filled your chest as you smiled back, taking careful steps as you walked towards the man you were about to marry. Your hunter. Your love.

Finally you had taken those last few careful paces towards Daryl, standing in front of him, looking through your veil into the eyes of your soon-to-be-husband.

Hershel waited a moment before speaking. “The world is not broken,” he began. “It is bruised and battered, but not lost… This world brought two people together. As partners. As lovers. A broken world wouldn’t do that. A shattered humanity wouldn’t unite people with love.”

Daryl glanced at Hershel, watching him as he spoke. He had always doubted humanity, especially now with what the world has become. But you, his love, the one person he deeply, truly loved, was here. You were with him, hand in hand. Maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t as lost as he thought.

“Here we stand, where two people will unite their love with marriage. Let us listen as the bride and groom read their vows to one another,” Hershel spoke, and gave a nod to Daryl, who chewed his lip a moment before speaking.

“Y/n…” he dropped his gaze momentarily before looking back up at you, face coated with blush. “Y/n, ya have been by my side through everythin’. Through all the highs and all the lows. Ya are my sunshine in this world. My light at the end of the tunnel. Ya are what keeps me going… I don’t have words to express how much I love ya… I promise to be by your side through everythin’…To protect ya and love ya for as long as I live.”

You smiled at him wildly, cheeks flushed red. Your chest filled with butterflies and a deep feeling of love unlike anything you had ever experienced. His words meant more to you than any other words ever had. You looked into his eyes through the veil.

“Daryl, you are the love of my life. I can’t imagine what this life would be without you. With you I feel safe. You are my home, my light, and the one person I am truly, deeply in love with… I promise to be there for you, to be by your side with whatever the world has to throw at us. I love you, and vow to be with you forever.”

Daryl smiled, face flushed with love and emotion. Eyes welling with unspilled tears, he squeezed your hands, feeling as if he did not deserve someone as amazing as you.

Hershel smiled, waiting a moment before continuing. “Daryl, do you take Y/n as your lawfully wedded wife?”

Daryl smiled, eyes never leaving yours. “I do.”

“Y/n, do you take Daryl as your lawfully wedded husband?”

You looked into the eyes of your love, announcing without hesitation, “I do.”

Smiling, Hershel said the words you and Daryl had been waiting to hear for a long time. “I announce you to be husband and wife… You may now kiss the bride.”

You had never seen Daryl blush so much or smile so wildly. You leaned up to kiss him, and he met you halfway, cupping your cheek. There was so much more to this quick kiss than any of the other kisses you had shared before. You were officially his, and he was officially yours. Bound together forever by marriage, united by love unlike anything you had ever felt before.

The few present guests cheered, but it all sounded muffled as you separated, smiling up at the man you had fallen head over heels for. The man who had protected you, loved you, and had always been by your side through everything. Your husband, Daryl.

[just-a-gamer-daydeamer-girl]

Ok so I have a lot of ideas for stories in my head, one of them is a rewrite of PLvsPW but I already have three unfinished fanfics that I started that I want to finish, and it’s not even the only ace attorney or professor Layton story I want to write, I got tons of other stories I want to write! So I’m just gonna give one of my favorite piece of the story I came up without there and hopes that it will satisfy that part of my mind. (I wish I could just focus on one project but nooooo… I keep hyperfixatening on a lot of different stuff)

For a bit of context, I wanted to keep Phoenix and Maya a bit of a mystery in this reimagining, how and why they are in Labyrinthia is different than in the original story and is told how they got there later in the story, not at the beginning. Hence Phoenix’s new attire, it will take a bit more deductive reasoning to figure out that they aren’t from around here, trust between the Amaricans and the British team will be a bit more of a slow burn as a result.

As for why Layton started crying…. Phoenix had to learn the hard way that people are flawed by nature, even himself is flawed and can’t live up to his own unrealistic ideals (farewell my turnabout) so while he respects the Professor he keeps in mind that Hershel is a person just like him. Layton on the other hand is a man that has a lot of high expectations placed on him, from other people and even himself with his whole ‘gentleman’ thing. So when he hears those words, they are the kindest thing anyone has ever said to him in a very long time. He starts crying and doesn’t know why.

Any other fanfic writers out there feel free to use this interaction in any of your works. (Not just for these two)

[d1xonss]

During the apocalypse

❧ As cheesy as it sounds, Rose and Daryl definitely fell in love at first sight. Though neither of them really knew it in the beginning, the yearning was always there. (Everyone could see it but them.)

❧ One of Daryl's love languages are acts of service; hence why he's always jumped at the opportunity to teach Rose whatever her heart desired. How to shoot a bow, how to drive a motorcycle, always giving tips on tracking, etc.

❧ Interlocking pinkies instead of holding hands.

❧ The two of them always manage to have a conversation with just their eyes alone. If something's wrong, they'll immediately lock gazes from across the room to read the others' expression. If someone says something funny, their first instinct is to look at each other as they try to hold in their laughs.

❧ Both very sarcastic, especially with each other.

❧ Daryl always waits for her. Whether she's coming back home after a long run with Rick or staying up later than usual gossiping with Maggie. He waits for her.

❧ There are times where Rose senses when Daryl is in a grumpier mood than usual. They can always read each other within seconds of being in the same atmosphere. She notices his unusual quietness. But usually after some sweet talk and a fair number of kisses, she always gets him to crack a small smile.

❧ Late night talks. Especially on Hershel's farm and the long winter that followed. The two would spend hours just talking and sharing stories from the past.

❧ Rose has definitely put little braids in Daryl's hair before.

❧ She's also doodled on his arms. Coloring his tattoos.

❧ PET NAMES! Daryl absolutely melts every time Rose calls him "love”. Knowing that name is reserved specifically for him. And he adores calling her sweet things just as much if not more. (“Angel” is her personal favorite.)

❧ He's known to be a little jealous at times, but surprisingly, Rose is exactly the same way. They're very protective of each other.

❧ Subtle touches of reassurance when a serious problem occurs.

❧ Daryl is always watching her. Picking up on each expression or movement that only he would be able to read. Hovering close by in case she ever needs help. Lowering his voice to talk to her in a room full of people, making sure she’s okay while his hand always subconsciously lingers on her waist. He doesn’t play about his girl.

❧ If it’s not already obvious enough, Rose definitely wears the pants in the relationship. One certain glance from her would immediately put him in his place if he had done something wrong.

❧ When it comes to cooking, Daryl surprisingly excels, while Rose on the other hand could burn water. But that's just another thing he enjoys teaching her.

❧ When Daryl gets in his own head about things, Rose is always there to reassure him. Sometimes it takes time to get him out of that negative mindset considering how stubborn he can be. But in the end, she always holds him close to her heart while he reluctantly nods in agreement as he listens to her soothing and comforting words.

❧ Endless inside jokes.

❧ Daryl always leaves little random notes for Rose, always signing his initial at the bottom with his sloppy handwriting as if she wouldn't know who it was from. And he always makes sure to finish it off with a little heart as well.

❧ They always have been, and always will be each other’s peace.

NSFW

❧ Realistically, their sex life was definitely not perfect in the beginning. With Daryl's lack of experience and Rose's insecurities, it took a while to find a rhythm they were both comfortable with. But it's safe to say the awkwardness didn't last very long;)

❧ Rose loves his hands. How big and rough they are. How they touch, squeeze, and pinch every single part of her like he could never possibly get enough. It makes her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

❧ Their favorite position is cowgirl. Rose loves to take control, and Daryl loves watching her take control.

❧ The age gap between them definitely turns her on.

❧ Daryl is a legs man. He loves gripping onto her thighs as he pounds into her, as if the act was almost grounding to him. They’re just so plush and perfect, he can’t help himself.

❧ The act itself is either soft or rough depending on how long it’s been since the last time they'd been intimate. There’s no in between.

❧ A guilty pleasure of theirs is getting messy when it comes to sex. Their bodies covered in a thin line of sweat while he's smearing his cum all over her breasts, always finishing with lots of sloppy kisses.

❧ Another one would be spitting in each other's mouths.

❧ Rose loves leaving kisses along his tattoos, feeling him shiver at the ghost of her lips on his worn and tattered skin.

❧ Daryl hadn't ever really thought about or considered any kind of kinks before. He never really saw the appeal. But when Rose tugged at his hair for the first time…he then understood what all the fuss was about.

❧ And Rose on the other hand is big on praise. She likes to be reassured and treasured during something so passionate, and obviously Daryl has no problem delivering. (Calling her things like, "pretty girl" "sweetheart" etc.)

❧ It almost goes without saying that Daryl absolutely loves going down on Rose. Any day, any time. It doesn't even matter if he's in the middle of something important. All she has to do is ask.

❧ Sometimes cigarettes are involved. The secondhand smoke only makes their minds hazier and blissful, blowing the nicotine in each other's faces.

❧ They can't ever take a shower together without it leading to something more.

❧ Depending on how safe it is wherever the group is staying, (the prison, Alexandria, etc.) Rose and Daryl are very active. Every day or every other day. Maybe even twice a day if there's time.

❧ Daryl whimpers. Specifically when he's eating her out.

❧ Rose loves to tease him. Whether it's through words or brief touches or just a plain innocent look, it gets him every time. Which often leads to him hoisting her up over his shoulder to carry her toward the bedroom.

❧ When it comes to Daryl receiving oral, it's not a very common occurrence. Simply because he doesn't feel like he needs it. Though Rose is always insistent on treating him every once and a while, he always prefers giving than receiving. Wanting to put her needs before his own always.

❧ It doesn't happen very often with how scarce supplies are, but every once and a while if Rose finds anything lacy and pretty, she puts it in her bag to take home. And it's always quite a surprise when Daryl receives this particular fashion show. Something that's for his eyes only.

❧ While loving her thighs, Daryl also loves her ass. He always gives her teasing pinches and even some playful bites all while thrusting into her. He loves seeing the little marks he makes on her skin.

❧ They're practically obsessed with each other. Which is exactly how it should be.

AN ~ Okay, I love writing these. I truly just couldn't stop once I started, and I feel like they turned out pretty perfect. I hope this was worth the wait since I've been meaning to get to these for a while now<3

And as always, thank you for all the love! xoxox

See part one here