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yanxidarlings · 2 months

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YANDERE TWD

REUNITED (yandere! big brother! merle dixon x male reader x yandere! big brother daryl dixon) (yandere! gareth x male reader) (rick grimes x male reader if you squint) NOTES: fair warning, this is some descriptive disturbing shit merle dixon counts as a warning on his own as well. this went in many directions i originally set out for yandere headcanons for the two, then got into the terminus arc, and ended with some pretty vague alluding to yandere. might write a part two)

imagine obsessive! possessive! big brothers! merle and daryl dixon. the dead begin to walk and they keep the darlin safe, meeting up with the atlanta camp. but the brothers won't let anyone get close to the darlin, not dale, not carl, certainly not shane or lori.

somehow, the darlin ends up going with glenn into the city on a supply run, only for it to go horribly wrong. the darlin insisted they head into a chemist to "look for medications" in case anyone in the camp needed them. but it was a lie. the darlin just wanted to find something to help merle with the inevitable withdrawal he'd go through once his supply of drugs ran out. the chemist is overrun by walkers but the darlin insists. "we can clear it!" they say to glenn "it'll be worth it for m- everyone" the korean gave the other a skeptical look. in the end, there was just too many, glenn thought he saw the darlin go down and reluctantly returned to camp.

"oi! shitface, you think you're a big boy now? can do whatever you want now everything's gon' to shit!" the raspy, harsh voice of merle dixon echoed through the camp. the redneck tramped over to the SUV glenn was parking. he remained silent as he turned the engine off. taking a deep breath, the young man exited the car, staring at the grass.

the older dixon stormed over, aggressively opening every door of the vehicle until he reached the boot. filled with supplies. "where the fuck is m/n" he growled, coming closer to the asian "he better be pullin up in another car" merle spat out. "i- it was" glenn stuttered out, looking like he was about to piss his pants "it wasn't my fault, m/n was being reckless, i had no cho-" CRACK glenn's face was soon bloodied and bruised, merle now on top of him, yelling out profanities as he beat the younger man. "merle!" the others quickly ran to pull the redneck off glenn.

"you fucking ch*ng-ch*ng bastard i'll rip-" merle was pried off glenn, who was now rolling around in agony, his face a bloody mess. "what the fuck happen'd" merle rasped out, although to glenn it sounded like a croak "where is he" merle was still being held back by t-dog and shane as he continued yelling. glenn avoided the rednecks furious gaze "the walkers got him" he finally spoke, looking down.

for a moment it looked like merle was about to cry, for a moment merle himself thought he was going to burst into tears like a sissy. "no he ain't" but instead he picked up his shotgun, and got into the drivers seat of the SUV.

that was how andrea, t-dog, jackie, glenn and morales ended up in the city. that was how merle got handcuffed to a roof by "officer friendly" and that was why daryl yelled in agony on that same roof. in the course of a day, he had lost the two most important people in his life.

but merle had survived by cutting off his left hand, and the darlin had survived by covering himself in walker guts.

"china- no- glenn- don't- help!" the h/c-et screamed, the sound of his own gun firing defeaning his ears. as one went down, another lunged at him, rotten teeth clanking together, desperately trying to knaw into his flesh. but he wouldn't die here. he couldn't. not when merle was 'relying' on him to get drugs. maybe then, the dixons would start to treat him as less of a clueless child and more of an equal.

after taking down a few, m/n jumped behind the counter, rummaging through the medications, looking for anything that might help with the withdrawal, or better, give merle his next fix. more of the dead came at him, but he just kept shooting, stabbing, hitting, anything to cause the fatal damage needed to end the dead's miserable 'life'.

BANG one was down BANG another BANG BANG BANG .. the slide didn't move forward as he shot his way through another round. shit. he was out of ammo "glenn!" he yelled out as a walker fell on top of him, wrestling it's way closer to his skin. all the korean could hear was m/n's screaming. which only attracted more walkers. he saw the medicine that m/n had thrown over the counter before going down, stuffing it into his bag, he creeped up closer to the group of walkers that had acculumated, following the sound of m/n's scream. until it stopped. "m/n?" he uttered under his breath, but the pile of walkers on top of each other told him the other was dead. with tears in his eyes, glenn ran out.

m/n struggled against the strength of the walker. it was freshly turned, he could tell. otherwise it wouldn't be so strong. kicking, punching, reaching for his knife, anything to save himself from becoming one of them. plunging his blade into the side of the walkers head, he quickly slit the once-man's throat. covering his face in the blood. before moving down to the abdomen. cutting it open, letting the walkers rotting insides pour out all over him, the ones that had piled on top soon couldn't distinguish the smell of living flesh from rotting blood.

he went silent, breathing shallowly, hoping, praying, they'd move off him and he could silently slip out. but when he was finally free of the chemist, glenn, the supplies they had gathered, and the SUV were gone.

he walked the dead-ridden streets of the once bustling city, covered in blood, hidden in plain sight. he kept walking (which then turned into a limp after getting hit in the ankle by a flying bullet) becoming weaker with each step, hoping to make his way back to camp. only to come to the end of the trainline leading into suburban atlanta. TERMINUS the building read "those who arrive survive" he heard a feminine voice call out from the speakers. maybe they have gauze. he glanced down at his leg, the sleeve of his shirt he had tied around it now dyed red.

"community for all; sanctuary for all" he saw a young man- perhaps just a little older than m/n was, staring down at him from the window. something felt amiss, off, but m/n had lost so much blood he didn't care. he stumbled towards the train station, stopping and starting as he debated his decision.

daryl, merle.. they'll be wondering he thought to himself, stopping for the 5th time, but i won't make it back he began walking again but they'll be looking for me he stopped, nearly tripping but the sudden lack of motion if i found this place they'll find it too he picked up the pace again, frantically moving towards the gates but- as he stopped himself once more, he finally tripped over. right onto the walker trap the train people had set up. his left ribcage was pierced by the sharp metal pole sticking out of the ground, causing the h/c-et to let out a loud screech.

before he knew it people had come out, the same man that had stared at him through the window moments earlier put his hand on the wound, causing m/n to flinch "we're you trying to get yourself killed?" the man mused, seemingly unphased by the active bleeding out that was happening in front of him. the man spoke more words that were muffled as m/n fell out of consciousness.

it was pitch black when he opened his eyes. not a shred of light to allude to the location. pitch black. m/n's hands brushed her his torso, feeling the gauze that was tightly wrapped around his chest. it all came back to him. the chemist, the walkers, glenn, the train people. he shifted his arms, feeling the thin material he was lated on, and the cold metal it covered. attempting to hoist himself up, pain shot through his body.

letting out a groan, he laid back down, closing his eyes. is this death. it certainly felt like it. the nothingness, the pain, it was all he had ever imagined death to be like. what felt like hours passed, the nothingness was almost comforting, how long had it been since he could lay like this and do nothing with no worries. it was all ended when the creaking of the door signaled to m/n that he was not in-fact dead.

the sudden brightness was blinding "you awake?" a masculine voice spoke. m/n's eyes began burning from the light, "i guess" he replied quietly, his eyes closing. "good" the male put down a plate next to where m/n laid "eat up. i know this isn't the warmest welcome, i would have liked to show you around first" the man chuckled, leaning down, seemingly to get a good look at m/n.

the man- who introduced himself as gareth, began speaking about the community- terminus. that they did whatever they had to for survival, that m/n would have to prove himself loyal if he wanted to become apart of the community. he wasn't sure how to tell this gareth guy that he was leaving as soon as possible to find his group.

the discussion started off normal as m/n finished his food, until gareth started talking about how lonely he was, as the leader of this terminus community. it only got creepier as gareth started to call m/n pretty boy, edging closer to him. m/n doesn't want to know what would have happened if that middld aged lady (gareth's mother), hadn't called the man away.

it quickly became evident to m/n that he was never going to leave. gareth locked him in the pitch black train car for hours on end, opening the door when there were armed men to prevent m/n from trying anything. gareth would sit with him and talk, running his hands over the male's body, stealing kisses, it was a reprehensive routine m/n had become forcibly accustomed to.

it all changed the day the hunters attacked. m/n was in his train car, as usual, listening to the outside screams, wondering if the attackers were dead or alive. he knew they were alive when one pried open the train car door, and threw them self on him. he was then thrown into a cramped train car with other terminus residents, where the hunters hand picked who to assault and slaughter each day. he and gareth spent their days huddled up together, talking about their lives before. had m/n not accepted the hunters offer to leave the train car if he worked for them, gareth wouldn't have lost his mind. but m/n was desperate to get away. from the train car. from terminus. to find his family.

but the hunters caught him trying to leave. they did their absolute worst to him and then threw him back in. when the termites took back terminus, gareth locked the leader of the hunters and m/n into the same train car. "this is what you deserve" he told him, before locking the door shut.

perhaps it was years, perhaps it was months, maybe it was only a few hours. the horrors of the train car began to unfold, as the man who had once led the attack on terminus lost his mind: pouncing on m/n at random, screaming for hours straight, trying to eat m/n alive when they'd be deprived of food, ripping his ear off in hungered insanity. as m/n laid there bleeding from his ear, he decided either i escape or i die. had running worked before? no. was he willing to die trying? not really, but a man would do anything for freedom, and that's what m/n did.

the hunter had fallen asleep, a fatal mistake, as m/n wrapped his hands around the mans unshaven neck and squeezed. within second the man awoke but m/n was relentless, not letting go until the other went limp. i just have to wait now he cried to himself, hands shaking. calming, he began to strip the man of his clothes and use the fabric to restrain his limbs.

waiting for the termites to open the door with the meal made of human flesh felt like an eternity. the familiar sound of metal scratching and creaking filled m/n's ear, who quickly sprung into action.

grabbing the reanimated hunter by the hair, he guided it in the direction of the door, throwing it towards the woman holding their plates. she screeched as the hunters corpse sank it's teeth into her flesh, blood pouring from the wound.

m/n grabbed the woman's gun and bolted as the nearby workers aimed their guns at the walker, taking it down swiftly, but m/n had already gotten out of the train car. hiding behind what once was his cage, he shot at every person who came into view. eventually making his way to the fence, through the woods, he didn't stop running until the sound of gunshots stopped entirely. even then, he kept running. he ran for what felt like hours until his lungs couldn't take it anymore. collapsing onto the dirt, heaving in and out.

woodbury had fallen, it's entire population now living in the prison nearby. rick had relinquished his leadership, insisting the prison be governed by a council. he often went on runs by himself, to get away from it all, to look back on his actions, to find lost survivors. it wasn't everyday rick grimes came across a twenty something perhaps younger male covered in blood, breathing like he had never tasted air before. well, usually the young men were walkers. but this one was very much alive.

"please don't" the male groaned out, eyes wide, as rick approached with a knife. "who are you" he drawled out, kneeling down to get a good look at the other. the young males face was bruised, his hair covered in blood, an ear was missing, and the male was emaciated. "uh" the male seemed to have to think about it, as if he hadn't spoken to another human in years "m/n" he finally puffed out, bringing his hand up to his head, where the left ear once was.

rick's hands brushed m/n hair out of his face, causing the male to flinch away "how many walkers have you killed" the older man finally asked after several moments of silence. m/n just stared at him, as if to say he hadn't been keeping track "how many people have you killed" still, the same look. "water" "what" rick narrowed his eyes. m/n used his free hand to shakily point to the man's bag, where a bottle of water was latched on to the side.

rick was silent as m/n chugged the water down "do you have anything sweet?" "no i don't" "oh" something about the boy felt familiar. didn't glenn mention originally going into atlanta to find a boy with a similar description? maybe it was just that the male reminded him of his own boy in a way, or maybe he had already developed a fondness for m/n. "i have a camp" rick looked m/n in the eye "we have walls, food, a community, a doctor that can look at your wound" he added.

the h/c-et shook his head "not again" rick furrowed his brows "what" the boy started to pick himself up "i gotta, um" he started feeling around the ground for his gun, "gotta go" he finished as he felt the handle of the gun. stuffing the weapon into his belt, he stood up, using a tree as a crutch. "c'mon kid, you're going to die out here" rick leaned forward and took the gun out of the others hand "no im not! give it!" m/n lunged forward, only to awkwardly fall into rick's chest, sinking down back to the ground.

"you've got two bullets left" m/n looked up at rick with a glare "either you come back to my camp with me or i just wasted my water on a dead man" m/n held his glare until the sun got into his eyes. "whatever" he looked down, hoisting himself back to his feet with the help of rick's hand.

daryl squinted his eyes as the evening sun glared down, merle had stolen his motorcycle. again. the older dixon was always going off on fun runs without informing anyone beforehand. perhaps because the redneck had never really been accepted into the group like daryl was.

taking another bite of his pork chop, daryl grunted at carol who told him to go in and get some rest. but why would he want to rest when all he could think of when his mind was unoccupied was his baby brother, the boy he had pretty much raised, who was now probably a rotting corpse in atlanta. but daryl still held out hope that m/n had gotten out, that he was safe, that he would find him oneday. this was why he never rested, these thoughts would creep up in the younger dixons head.

the sound of his motorcycle rumbling told him that merle was back. the older dixon sauntered over to daryl, a cigarette sat between his thin lips, "look what you're big brother merle got you, darylina" he pulled a pack of cigarettes out his pocket, sliding it into daryls pocket. daryl said nothing, staring into the distance; was that rick? the figure was too far away to discern.

"dad!" carl called out, jogging down. "look what i- m/n?" the young grimes exclaimed as he came closer to the pair. rick carried the half-conscious boy through the gates "you know this guy?" rick looked at carl, who flicked the hair out of m/n's face to get a better look "he was with us back in atlanta, we thought he died on a run"

daryl's heart stopped, did he hear carl right? they were pretty far away. standing up, he threw the pork bone aside and marched towards the two- three. when he finally came close enough to see the persons face, he had to stop himself from tearing up in front of carl and rick "m/n" he uttered out quietly. the father and son came to a halt as he approached "you knew this guy back in atlanta" rick nodded at daryl "'course i did. he's my brother" daryl was quick to take m/n off rick. he wanted to cut the mans arms off just for touching his precious brother.

daryl rushed m/n into the prison, settling him in his cell, "go get hershel" he told carol, who looked just as perplexed as merle did as he walked into the cell. "m/n!? i thought you was dead" he breathed out, shoving daryl out the way, who was quick to push back, both wanting to be as close to their younger brother as possible "where'd you find him" merle looked over at rick, who was standing out front the cell "in the woods, looked like he'd been running"

rick moved aside as hershel came in, merle reluctantly stood up as hershel sat to access m/n's condition. "he's lost a lot of blood" hershel examined the ear hole where the flesh and muscle had been ripped from "we should have bob look at him, but from what i can see he needs bandaging and antibiotics" daryl grunted "i ain't letting no stranger touch him" he ushered hershel away, taking m/n's hand in his own "i found antibiotics on last weeks run, that gon' be enough" merle looked over at the old man, who nodded "we'll have to see how he reacts"

neither daryl or merle left m/n's side whilst waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. it was strange. no one in the prison had ever seen either of them so worried for or attached to someone. but for the six days and nights m/n spent unconscious, his body fighting off the infection from his wounds, recovering from the months of maltreatment.

when m/n finally opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings, daryl was leaned against the wall at the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the boys face "sleep well?" was the first thing he said after the two had stared at each other for what felt like an eternity "yeah" m/n spoke softly.

"i should have never gone hunting that day" "am i dead" the two spoke in unison. daryl breathed out "no, never gon' let that happen" he shuffled closer, laying down next to the youngest dixon.

daryl stared at m/n intensely, until merle was roused from his sleep "m/n, i told you not to go out of my sight" he grumbled, sitting forward. m/n looked up at the metal frame of the top bunk "i just wanted to get you some narcan" merle stared at him, blinking away tears "didn' have to risk your life for it" he pursed his lips "i ain't worth you dyin'" he added quietly, sitting back, his eyes not leaving m/n's.

the room went silent for a moment "maybe not, but you're my brother" m/n closed his eyes for a moment "do you guys have pop or candy here?" he questioned hopefully. merle let out a chuckle "i found a can on my run today" he chuckled out, before going quiet "i chugged it on the spot"

"you piece of shit!"

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ficnation · 1 year

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Chapter 4: The Night Disturbance

Series: Way Down We Go // Season 1 Word count: 3100 Pairing: Rick Grimes x Female! Reader; Shane Walsh x Reader; Daryl Dixon x Sister! Reader Warnings: usual twd themes (e.g. descriptive gore, death, use of weapons, violence, cursing) A/n: We should meet twd family in the next chapter or two B) I hope ya’ll enjoy it <3 If you’re not on the taglist but you’d like to be added let me know!

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

You sauntered toward the army green tent, shuffling your feet and trying to prolong the walk there. A displeased frown was already growing on your face. You weren’t in the mood to hear your younger brother’s stinging words the whole night. You didn’t even want to sleep in that cursed tent with him, but it wasn’t like you had a say in it. Merle decided he was going to take watch for the night, and he ushered you away before you could even open your mouth to protest. You didn’t point out his questionable eagerness. You were just simply done with his shit.

“Ya gettin’ in or what?” Daryl’s gruff voice sounded from inside the tent right when you stepped over to open the flap.

You rolled your eyes and slipped in through the opening, zipping it up all the way behind you. Because of the humidity coming from the lake, mosquitos seemed to appear out of thin air and lurk around every corner. You could no longer count the number of itchy bumps on your skin. Just thinking about it made you furiously scratch your arm.

“Stupid fuckin’ mosquitos,” you cursed under your nose, crawling into the sleeping space of the tent and flopping down on the hard floor. The blanket you laid on didn’t do much to isolate your back from the unforgiving coldness of the ground beneath, and you knew another uncomfortable and freezing night had just started for you.

“Ya want som’ thyme for it?”

Your eyes snapped wide open at the words, and you propped yourself up on your forearms to look at Daryl. You had to make sure you didn’t just imagine him speaking to you in a fairly calm voice. The archer avoided meeting your eyes, lying beside you and looking up at the disgusting green color of the tent’s roof. You shook your head in disbelief at his offer before retracting your gaze.

“It’s hideous, right?” You let yourself fall back down, staring at the canvas above with a raised brow. You waited patiently for Daryl to find the courage to speak.

A small flashlight was lying by Daryl’s feet that was pointed at the roof to illuminate the whole tent with delicate yellow light. It was the only thing that saved you from jabbing him with your elbow or knee while moving around the tent. The tent was so small it barely fit two people, and keeping at least some kind of distance between each other was challenging and awkward. The idea of lying squashed like sardines with your younger brother, who seemed to hate your guts, wasn’t exactly inviting.

“Didn’ know it was like tha’,” he started, his fingers nervously tapping at the covered ground. He fell silent after those words escaped his lips, and for a moment, you thought that was all he had to say before he turned toward you, boring his blue eyes into the side of your face. “If ya jus’ said somethin’ earlier…” he trailed off.

“I couldn’t,” you defended yourself, fingers playing with the stretched-out hem of your shirt. Nervously, you rubbed the black fabric between your thumb and pointer finger.

“Don’ bullshit me.” Daryl scoffed at you, rolling his eyes. You looked at him, offended and kind of hurt that he didn’t believe you. You had no reason to lie to him. “Ya were jus’ scared shitless to admit ya fucked up. Yer whole gettin’ outta ‘ere and bein’ better than us bullshit didn’ work out.”

You sat up in shock, staring at the space in front of you. The scowl on your face could be seen probably from miles away, but you tried to snuff out the rage that started to boil in your blood. “Daryl fucking Dixon, what the hell did you make yourself believe?”

“Tha’s the fuckin’ truth! Ya always been the self-righteous one. Thinkin’ ya can do better, leave us behin’. Guess it was time for ya to fuckin’ wake up,” he spat out the words, his jaw clenched tightly.

You snorted at that, pulling your legs up to your chest and crossing your arms over them. The scowl fell off your face as quickly as it made its way there. You didn’t seem phased by what he said anymore. You rested the side of your face on your arms as you looked him right in the eye.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never as much as thought that you are less than me and I never will. Merle? Sure, he’s a dealer junkie that sleeps in a cell every few days. He doesn’t even want to be better,” you explained, shaking your head sadly.

The mere thought of your older brother’s shenanigans made your eyes roll involuntarily. Since you could remember, he was always dragging you and Daryl into trouble, getting you into parties with local junkies and prostitutes, stuffing drugs down your pockets so you could sell his stuff to your friends. He justified himself that no one would dare to harm a hair on your head if he was around, but he was never truly there for you when shit hit the fan. Juvie, military, prison—he was anywhere but home. Yet he believed he was your hero, “saving you” from Will—the evil dragon—but it was all play pretend. You and Daryl saved each other without his—so-called—help.

“I wanted you to go with me because I knew you wanted more from life. You aren’t dumb, Daryl. You could’ve had any job you fucking wanted.” You stared into his blue eyes, a melancholic smile on your lips. “You’re so much smarter than me and Merle combined,” you continued, and at your words, Daryl rolled his eyes and snorted ungracefully.

“Ain’t much of a compliment,” he mumbled, making you chuckle.

You swatted at his arm playfully. “You know what I mean, asshole.”

“Wha? Not my fault ya and Merle have half a brain combined.” Daryl raised his brow at you, challenging you to argue with him any further. He propped himself up on his forearms just like you did minutes ago. You exchanged cheeky smiles in silence for a moment, but then the air shifted back into seriousness.

“Will we ever be good, Daryl?” you whispered more to yourself than to him.

You wished you could goof around carelessly like you did before you left the trailer park. You wished everything would just go back to how it was back then—more than ten years ago. It wasn’t possible, though, and you knew it. You weren’t the same person anymore, and neither was he.

Daryl’s eyes bored into your skull while he contemplated quietly. “Someday… Someday we will.”

Even if it wasn’t necessarily the answer you wanted it to be, it was more than you had expected. You accepted your brother’s words with a nod of your head, lying back on the floor and turning away from him. You curled your legs up to your chest and pulled the sleeves of your shirt over your palms, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Good night, Daryl,” you mumbled out before your eyes closed.

“Night, kid,” he replied, throwing his own blanket over you before he turned off the flashlight and rolled to his side, back to back with you.

The relentless rustling and groaning from outside woke you up in the middle of the night, disturbing your already shallow slumber. You sat up startled, rubbing the sleep off your bleary eyes. Your mind still hasn’t caught up to your current situation, and you didn’t really know what the groans foreshadowed.

“What’s going on?” Daryl asked, sensing your sudden change in position.

He reached out to turn the flashlight on, but you quickly caught his arm and stilled it. Or maybe it was his ankle; you couldn’t really tell in the dark, but at least the action stopped Daryl from continuing. You strained your ears to make sure the noises that awoke you were really there, but you didn’t hear anything anymore. You breathed out a sigh of relief before falling back like a log onto the blanket beneath.

“It’s nothing. Just my imagination,” you mumbled out.

The moment you closed your eyes, determined to go back to sleep, another growl sounded from outside the tent, this time louder than before. You shot up again, accidentally jabbing Daryl in the side with your elbow. The man let out a pained grunt before he sat up as well, straining his ears.

“Daryl, we need to get out of here!” you whispered in a panicked tone, throwing the blanket off your body. It didn’t do shit to help you stay warm at night anyway. “It was one of the undead.”

“No shit,” he growled out, barely audible, already scrambling around in the dark in search of his crossbow and your rifle.

It was crazy how quick the noise made all the tiredness disappear from your body. The adrenaline surged in your blood, and the screaming in your head to run or fight was louder than any other thought. You’ve never felt safe in this world, but before the outbreak, you could at least hope for a better tomorrow; now, you didn’t think it was possible.

Despite the darkness, you somehow managed to slip your sock-clad feet into your boots and stuff the flashlight into the pocket of your pants. The both of you crawled over to the entrance as quickly and stealthily as it was possible. You took the rifle from Daryl’s hand and swung it over your shoulder. You let him fumble around with the tent’s zipper, staying behind and trying not to let the panic swallow your whole being while you waited.

“C’mon,” your brother ushered you out of the tent quietly, letting you step outside before him. “Sounds like more than jus’ one of ’em to me.”

You stumbled blindly outside. The moonlight filtered through the canopy of leaves above you like a dulled and dispersed spotlight. Your eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, so the night seemed surprisingly bright. You didn’t have time to admire your surroundings for long. Since the canvas no longer muffled the noises, you could hear the familiar growling clearly, and Daryl was right—there was definitely more than one stumbler in your little camp.

A few crickets chirped suddenly somewhere close to you, making you gasp, startled. You winced and pressed your palm tightly to your mouth to repress any other sound from escaping it. Daryl’s quickened breathing told you he was just as stressed by the thought that they could hear the tiniest sound you made as if the quiet rustling of the bedding could make their eyes snap toward you at any moment. This time you were lucky—the stragglers didn’t seem to have heard you.

You wanted to ask Daryl about Merle and his whereabouts, about what you were supposed to do and where you could possibly run to, but you didn’t dare to part your lips again. You could feel your heart hammer furiously in your chest, making your whole body tremble in a gracious dance to its rhythm. Tired of waiting for something to happen, you moved forward in a crouch, burying your fingers in the leaf litter to keep some semblance of balance. For your own good and sanity, you hoped you were as stealthy as you imagined yourself to be after months of sneaking around different places—that you were not supposed to be in—with the Red Devils.

You scrambled for the nearby bushes outside the small clearing occupied by your tent and vehicles. In the distance, you could see the silhouettes of the undead shuffling around the pickup and Merle’s bike.

Speaking of which—where the fuck was that asshole? You were sure he wasn’t dead—he couldn’t be—but the silence was weirdly disturbing. Your older brother was the loudest and most obnoxious man you’ve ever met. It was suspicious of him to be quiet even in a situation like this. He was born unable to keep his mouth shut.

Once you and Daryl were safely hidden behind the bushes, you grabbed the hem of his vest, tugging at it to get his attention. “Where the fuck is Merle? He was supposed to be on watch,” you asked, gritting your teeth in annoyance.

“How the fuck should I know?”

Before you could retort back, you saw something moving in the distance behind Daryl. It took you a second to realize what was coming, and if it wasn’t for the moon shining so bright in the sky—you didn’t even want to imagine what could’ve happened. You pushed your brother with all the force you had left in yourself, making him fall flat onto the ground, twigs and dirt tangling in his light brown hair. You followed in his steps immediately, throwing yourself face-first onto the litter. A sharp shining object swished past your lying forms milliseconds after, cutting through the air where Daryl’s head just had been. The knife rammed into the ground at your feet. You didn’t move for several moments, both breathing deeply with eyes wide open in shock and relief.

“What the fuck?!” Daryl snarled as he scrambled to his feet, looking in the direction the weapon came from.

“Bet my right hand we just found Merle,” you scoffed, standing up on shaky legs.

You dusted yourself off, but it didn’t help much. Your pants were still mucky, with dirt, leaves, and twigs sticking to the fabric like glue. You quickly gave up trying to pry them off, remembering there were more important things you had to deal with first. Everything else could wait, but before you’ve dealt with Merle and the creepers, you had to keep your guard up and eyes focused on your surroundings.

“Over ‘ere!” you heard your older brother’s voice call through the forest, not a care in the world about the goddamn undead.

Daryl took a look at the camp you’d left behind. The stragglers shuffled around the clearing, looking for their next meal. They either didn’t hear Merle’s booming voice or were too distracted by the smell of squirrels’ remains that were thrown out carelessly by the edge of your camp.

You walked over to your older brother, and before anything could be said or done by any of the men, you punched Merle straight in the face, making him step back in pain and shock. His hand shot up to hover over his bleeding nose. Your clenched fist hurt, but the pain was good—it was worth it.

“You pull shit like that one more time, and I swear I’ll stick that knife so far up your ass.” You scowled at him but raised your hands in the air as a gesture of peace when Daryl stepped between the two of you and sent you a scolding stare.

“Damn, Baby. Thought ya were walkers lookin’ for some goodies.” Merle chuckled at his own words, and it took all strength in you not to push Daryl out of your way and hit him again.

“I don’t fucking care what you thought we were,” you growled out through clenched teeth. “Daryl could’ve gotten seriously hu—”

“Can ya both shut yer mouths? Ya can bicker later after we get outta ‘ere,” Daryl cut you off, his eyes trailing around the forest to ensure there were no other infected around. His fingers tapped the crossbow nervously.

You ignored him, slipping your rifle off your back to clutch it safely in your hands before you continued in a hushed voice, “Why didn’t you wake us up?”

“Wasn’t gonna disturb yer beauty sleep.” You wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his stupid face. “Figured it’s jus’ two creeps, should be easy enough tah get rid of.”

Daryl scoffed dismissively at Merle’s stupidity, not even sparing your older brother a glance. He started walking in the opposite direction of your camp, his crossbow ready to shoot in his hands. You followed after him, and so did Merle, although he protested about leaving your things—mainly his bike—behind.

“Don’t know how he threw that knife, he’s as high as a kite,” you stated, catching up to your younger brother. You matched his pace, glancing over your shoulder from time to time, making sure Merle didn’t wander off in his delirious state.

“Don’t matter. He ain’t even thinkin’ clearly. There were four of ’em at least.” Daryl shook his head, already exhausted by the situation at hand.

“What are we gonna do about him?”

At the exact same moment the question left your lips, Merle tripped behind the two of you and fell on his ass with a grunt that preceded a clamorous: “Fuckin’ hell!” The faint groans in the distance made Daryl, and you freeze in your spots, heavy feet glued to the ground. They didn’t sound that far away. The realization made you come unstuck, and you jogged over to your older brother.

“Damn it, get up!”

You grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to his feet while he giggled like a fucking schoolgirl. Who put themselves in a state like that in the middle of an apocalypse? It wasn’t the time and place for that. You didn’t get it at all; if he wanted to live, he had to be able to fight, not trip over his own feet every five seconds. Yet Merle proved himself to be untrustworthy and unable to look after his own ass once again. No wonder he failed at making sure you could get at least a few hours of sleep safely.

“I swear Merle, whether you are my blood or not,” you started, grunting when he threw his arm over your shoulder, “I will leave you here to get eaten by those monsters.” You tried to keep moving forward, but the weight he leaned on you didn’t make it easy.

“I ain’t seein’ any creeps’ ere. Say we’re pretty safe, dontcha think?” It took everything in you to not kick him away and say you were done.

Daryl watched your backs in silence. He had no idea what to do either—despite spending the last ten years with him one-on-one. You still couldn’t believe he survived it without putting a gun to Merle’s head—or maybe he did, but decided not to pull the goddamn trigger.

You heard the groans getting closer, another one joining and a third following. The shuffling and rustling of leaves told you there were more of them than at the camp. You watched the horror build up in Daryl’s eyes as he tried to tell how many of them could possibly be straggling toward you.

Then all hell broke loose.

@yttricuz @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelf-x @jessica-mikaelson18 @spidergirla5 @depressedfrog2 @kpopandharry @daryldixonstorm @clemscult @lonewolf471 @btsiguess-kpop @notquitecannon @the-daily-multi-fandom-post @xhannahbananax03 @sourwolf-sterek32 @wonderful-writer @apolloloki97 @huffledor-able541 @phoenixblack89 @yolobloggers @sexyseabass @sweetpotatospock @whiskeypowder @witch-of-letters @capsiclesdoll @kingtwhiddleston @incorrectcapsicle @queentorresstuff @witheringblooddemon @hopefulatrocity

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itshelia · 4 months

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Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

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moonxnite · 5 months

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y’all ever fantasize about a fictional character a little too hard to the point you’re convinced you should be admitted to a mental hospital?

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sleepyangelkami · 1 month

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smut's fun. have you ever read soul crushing, heart aching, head throbbing comfort that makes your eyes burn out of your head to the point where you just have to crawl into a ball because your inner child feels so safe? haha... yeah smuts fun.

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natti-ice · 2 months

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A man with a pretty face and a slutty waist.

#eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #sirius black x reader #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #james potter x reader #finnick odair x reader #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon x reader #remus lupin x reader #steve rogers x reader #tom riddle x reader #peeta mellark x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader

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cinnamoodles · 1 month

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smut is great but do you know what’s better? heart wrenching, soul twisting angst that makes you want to cry (take my money)

#spencer reid x reader #jason todd x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kageyama x reader #cedric diggory x reader #daryl dixon x reader #dick grayson x reader #din djarin x reader #steve harrington x reader #azriel x reader #john price x reader #jake seresin x reader #charles leclerc x reader #chris evans x reader #homelander x reader

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allagogtoreblog · 1 year

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feral4daryl · 5 months

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masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

summary: while looking for his crossbow around the house, daryl ends up finding a pile of your dirty clothes and... used panties of yours. and when no one's looking, he decides to have some fun with them.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl is in his late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18), not entirely proofread, smut, mean!daryl sort of, corruption kink, daryl being an absolute pervert, panties sniffing, daddy kink, masturbation, cussing, daryl imagining himself doing the dirtiest things to you (unprotected p-in-v, squirting, face fucking, praising, loss of virginity, cunnilingus and i think that's pretty much it)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: please proceed with caution, this piece of work portrays a few extreme or unusual fetishes, so if you're not comfortable with any of those i've listed above please do not ready this. the idea that inspired this work originally belongs to @dilfsandmartinis.

if there was something daryl absolutely hated, it was the feeling of uselessness.

since andrea had mistaken him for a walker and shot him from afar, grazing his head, useless was exactly how he felt, having to lay down on a bed the whole day and night, doing absolutely nothing but be left alone with his own thoughts. and oh, what a disgraceful fate.

everytime he wasn't focused on hunting, fighting or surviving in general, the farmer's sweet younger daughter flooded his mind. your hair, your face, your stupidly adorable sundresses, everything about you was so... distracting.

daryl wasn't ever the kind of guy to simp for a woman, but that one specific girl made him feel emotions and sensations that were hidden deep within his being for years, maybe even decades. feelings he thought had vanished from his heart a long time ago were now blooming all over again, like he was some stupid teenager looking at a playboy magazine for the first time.

there was something about your innocence, your adorable mannerisms, your sweet voice and your kindness that had awakened something in him, something he wasn't quite sure what it was.

no, he wasn't exactly a young man. and while being aware that you were very young, he couldn't help but feel so guilty for having those feelings. whenever you bended over to pick something up, he had to fight demons not to have a glimpse of your panties. he often wondered how could you be so careless by exposing yourself like that, even if you didn't do it on purpose.

and there was him again, thinking about you. it's like no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they were like water, always finding a way in.

he huffed, feeling defeated. he knew he was still recovering from the incident, and that he should rest, but why was he following orders around anyways? he wasn't a damn puppy. plus, everybody else had left him there to go looking for sophia. he wanted to be able to help too. he was alive after all, and if he was alive, he believed he should be on his feet.

so that's what he did. he slowly lifted his right foot, resting it on the floor, then he did the same with his left one. his body reluctantly lifted itself up, and he immediately could feel the consequences for laying down for so long, his back killing him and his vision a bit foggy. anyways, he ignored any discomfort and started walking slowly, his head still a little dizzy.

then, he remembered he needed his trustworthy crossbow, he couldn't just leave unprotected like that. he looked around the room he was settled in but it was nowhere to be seen. he knew it was still in the house, so he left the room. he started walking down the corridor, his eyes attentively looking for any signs of his crossbow. he was even starting to think that his mates might've hidden it to force him to stay in the house when he spotted a halfway open door.

his calloused hands pulled it open, revealing a small bedroom, all pink themed and stupidly decorated. no, his crossbow wasn't likely to be there, it just looked like it belonged to one of hershel's daughters, but it was like something was calling him in.

he stepped in the room and it almost looked messy. the dressing table on the corner had lipsticks, combs, all sorts of make-up and girly stuff all piled up and... a perfume.

it was happening again, images of you flooded his mind and it was like he could almost smell you. oh, your sweet scent had the power to make him hard like nothing else. just by looking at that small bottle, just by imagining your scent, he could feel little shock waves travelling all the way down to his cock, threatening to awaken it.

he knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong thinking about a much younger girl like that. and it was even worse considering that you were the daughter of the man that provided him shelter in such difficult times. it felt ungrateful.

when he saw you for the first time, he didn't think much of you. he was actually careful, treating you like the stranger you were. and even when time passed, he never really got close to you. now and then you tried to share a word, even if just a little bit, but it seemed useless since he would reject all your attempted approaches. he didn't hate you like he tried to after acknowledging his disgusting desires for you, but he just couldn't allow himself to interact with a girl that made him sick to his stomach for all the wrong reasons.

your sweetness was almost annoying. the entire world had gone to shit, for goodness sake! dead bodies walking around and eating all the people they could find. how could you act so clueless all the time? daryl even wondered if you had ever seen a walker before, if you knew what was really happening out there. after all, it was very obvious that you were a daddy's girl, always protected under your father's wing.

but strangely enough, acknowledging that only made him protective towards you. he was always somewhat watching, always around you making sure you were safe and he barely knew why, he just felt like he should.

so he didn't stop himself from reaching over to your small perfume bottle. the design was very simple, no labels to be seen, time had probably faded it away. the cap was baby pink and heart shaped, and when he removed it, he immediately brought the bottle to his nose, giving it a gentle sniff.

fuck.

now, he was 100% sure that was your room. the fragrance was the same one that filled his nose and made him drunk in you everytime you walked by. he wondered if that was the scent he would feel if he ever hugged you, burying his face into your chest.

in that moment, he couldn't think about anything else, not rick, not carol, not his chores, not surviving, not even sophia. you were everything that he had in his fucked up mind.

he wouldn't feel so fucking guilty if his thoughts were only about your innocence and sweetness, but they were also dirty as fuck. countless were the times when daryl imagined groping you, running his hands all over your delicate body, feeling every texture, squeezing every junk and listening close to your every little whimper. he would pull your hair, gently at first, just to get it off your face and neck so he could pamper them with little wet kisses, gently scratching his teeth along them. he imagined he'd have to keep you on your feet himself, since you'd struggle to because of how weak your knees would get at all the sensations he would provide you and...

wait, no.

what was he thinking? was he out his fucking mind? he needed to stop those absolutely disgusting thoughts right away. he couldn't keep having those thoughts about you, not when you're out taking care of such important business with the others. he put the perfume bottle back on the dressing table, determined to let all that go. he knew he couldn't just let himself get so distracted like that over something so mundane and unimportant as his own sexual desires but then...

...he spotted a basket filled with clothes when he turned around to leave. his mind immediately started to rush all over again, and for the 100th time that day, he turned careless. he slowly approached it. shorts, tops, pants and so on could be seen at the top of the pile.

in that moment, he had totally forgot why he had entered that bedroom or even left his bed in the first place. he couldn't even remember the existence of his crossbow or his duties.

and then... he gets an idea. he starts going through the pile of dirty clothes and in no time, he finds your panties. they were white with a pink ribbon on the front, a clear reminder of your innocence. for a moment, he just looks at it, contemplating the possibilities. then, he remembers seeing you in it when you bended over to pick some off the floor the day before. he remembers catching a glimpse of it under your yellow sundress when you went to change his bandage.

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

if just your perfume ignited such vile desires in him, he couldn't even imagine what your natural scent could do to him. and he was oh so curious to find out. he still felt guilty, but that man had been sex deprived for so fucking long, he didn't even masturbate very often. he knew damn well he was about to commit a big mistake, maybe even starting something he was sure he couldn't finish, but he finally made up his mind.

he flips the small piece of cloth over, eyeing the soft-looking lining of the panties. he gulps, feeling his mouth water right away. god, what was he doing? what was right, what was wrong wasn't even important to him anymore. he just wanted to embrace his sickness.

there was a small stain on the lining, probably from you wearing it. just that sight alone was enough to get him off, and once again, he found himself having to face that tingling sensation inside his pants. he knew damn well what that meant and what was about to happen. but honestly, he couldn't give a single fuck anymore.

in one quick motion, he brought the fabric to his face, giving a long sniff while he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. that fucking scent of yours got him drunk the moment it filled his nostrils. so intense, so feminine and raw, daryl couldn't remember the last time he felt that type of pleasure, or if he had even felt anything like it before.

it made him needy like a horny teenager. he felt himself going back to puberty when all he could think about was jacking off day and night. and it was all your fucking fault.

daryl palmed himself through his denim pants, never taking your panties off his face not even for one second. the natural scent of your cunt was more than successful to make him hard as a rock, the sensation of being in his pants started to get uncomfortable as his dick grew bigger and bigger.

just palming himself wasn't enough.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, inserting one of his hand in his briefs to catch his hard cock in it, freeing it for the first time in a while. his angry-red tip was literally pulsating while a clear and sticky liquid dropped down his length.

he wasn't able to hold a small grunt as he wrapped his calloused hand around his cock, the rough sensation of his fingers causing him to feel a jolt of pleasure so fucking delicious and guilty at the same time. the archer brought his hand to his mouth, catching some of his saliva to use as lube.

oh, how he wished you were there. he'd make sure you'd get his cock nice and wet with your spit so you could rub it up and down. and then, without warnings, he'd just shove it down your throat, forcing you to prove how much of a good girl you could be just for him.

and just for him. he wanted you all for his own. daryl never really liked to share, specially when it came to a girl like you, so princess like, so adorable looking. your plump lips looked so fucking perfect, and they would look even more wrapped around his big cock.

knowing how fragile you were, he knew you would definitely choke and gag on him, struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. he would whisper sweet encouragement words to you like “tha's it, tha's ma good girl”. he imagined how he would hold your head in place and keep a hand on your throat so he could feel his cock while he aggressively pumped it in and out, making you drool all over him. “just like tha', yeah, show daddy how fuckin' good ya are fer him”.

in his imagination, you would look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, with a mix of uncertainty and desire to make him proud. “am i doing this right, daddy?” he could almost hear your voice saying it whenever you would take him off his mouth to catch your breath for a moment, never disconnecting your small hand from his thick length.

he started pumping faster, squelching sounds were all that could be heard in that silent room, a proof of his degeneracy. the grunts and stifled moans were only getting harder and harder to hold back. he was sticking those panties to his face and sniffing on them like his life depended on it, like he was a desperate virgin.

a virgin. he wondered if you were one. you sure looked like it, your dad never let you out of sight for long enough for you to try something like that, he supposed from what he knew about your relationship. he imagined how would it feel like to be the one to pop your cherry for the first time.

oh, he would teach you so many things, everything he knows. he would guide you through it all along, teaching you where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick. he would make your virgin little cunny cum so many times it would get all puffy and red. he even wondered if he could make you squirt, stuffing you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot over and over again until you were a quivering mess, squirting all over his skull tattoo. and yes, he would make you lick his fingers clean, your sweet little tongue dragging across them, and then, he would kneel down in front of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet release, attacking your sensitive clit and slit with his lips and tongue.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he was so fucking eager to taste your slick, to revel in your salty taste. he imagined how fucking good the smell he was getting from your panties was from the actual source. he would lick it all, your lips, your slit, even your ass, but he would give special attention to your little clit, flicking his tongue on it, making it cum again just for him. he would never grow tired of it.

and when he felt you were finally ready for him, he would bend you over just like you used to do so absentmindedly. he would be gentle at first, but knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for too long before absolutely railing the shit out of you, making you cry out and scream his name in pleasure and pain.

and when he flipped you over on your back, he would be able to see the bulge on your lower belly caused by his big cock inside you. just by imagining that he felt himself getting close to the edge. he would press his hand on it, making the little room inside your pussy even tighter. fuck, he imagined the sweet sounds you would make just for him.

all those dirty thoughts and your sweet scent from your panties were more than enough to make shivers run down his spine and his whole body tremble. he kept his eyes shut tight as he licked a stripe on the lining of your panties, trying to get some of your delicious taste. meanwhile, he hadn't stopped his hands not even for a second, harshly rubbing his cock up and down until it was too much.

in a strangled moan, his cock started shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum onto the floor, the dressing table and pretty much anything that was around. he couldn't remember the last time he had such an intense orgasm, the sensation making his mind completely empty except for your image.

his movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. he sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. he opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

you. standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

a/n: i know, i'm disgusting. i'm sorry. (just a quick reminder, english isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing lmao, and tysm if you read it this far)

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fordaryl · 4 months

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REMEMBER.

minors dni. 2.6k words. smut. daryl dixon x fem!reader. protective daryl. hint of size kink. strength kink.

It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.

Safety lets you forget.

And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.

"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another growling walker down.

It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.

You drag the door of the container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the walkers. It would be if it weren't for Daryl. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.

One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.

One is fine. You can handle one.

Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on Daryl. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.

You kick the walker you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.

Locking it is another story.

You have no hope of accomplishing that.

Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Daryl keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.

Then one gets shot down. Daryl, is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Walkers you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.

They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Daryl anymore. He's either dead or hiding.

Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.

You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.

“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”

Any second now... any second they'd find Daryl and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.

"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.

You hold your breath.

"Well check it out then!" another demands.

Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.

You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the walkers are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Daryl would be watching... waiting. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.

"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of your sights, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking."

You know what'll happened when they find you. It's the same thing each time. You're prey to people like these—something to hunt in a world without consequences for that kind of thing.

Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.

"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage—vulnerable. Not a threat. "I'm—I'm unarmed."

Then a bright light blinds you.

"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims. Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"

There it was. Little. Thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Daryl more time.

"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.

You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Daryl was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something.

You just had to stay alive.

"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.

You get muffled laughter in response. Guards down. Distracted.

"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."

They're flash lights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.

Five. You count five. If you kill two...

"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger, a little less distracted.

The rest ignore him. Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. They're hands send a wave of repulsion through your body as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their touch feels against your skin.

The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.

"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm says, clearly irritated and impatient.

"But—"

"Now."

His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of walkers, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.

Then, only a few steps later—you're stopped. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."

You blink away the burn threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...

The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry walkers. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."

There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.

But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?

You were dying tonight if Daryl was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...

Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.

You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all.

The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.

Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.

You were nothing. Prey.

The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the head before he can get hands on his own weapon.

The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though, those moments with an enemy weapon pointed at your head always do.

But then Daryl is there, strangling the man with a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck you spot the bodies behind him.

He'd been waiting for you.

You watch him stand, hair hanging in his face and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Then his eyes are on you.

Then his hands.

Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky.

You nod.

"You did good," he says, that deep gravel back in his voice. "So good, sweetheart." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point to rest at your clavicle. "We gotta go," he says. "Stay close for me, yeah?"

—————

The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs. To the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.

His thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you.

"You like that sweetheart?" His voice is almost sweet as his lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. "Huh? You like that?"

You nod with a small whine, pressing your hips back into him—desperate.

He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your slippery, spongy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.

"Fuck," he grunts. "You need me here? Huh? You all fuckin' empty?"

"Yeah," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."

His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely, his warmth seeping into your skin from his calves to his hot breath on your neck.

"What do you need?" he asks. As if he doesn't know; as if he didn't always know.

"You."

"Hm?" he hums, sweet and coaxing. "How?"

You reach blindly to find his wrist, gripping it firmly. "Hold me tight," you gasp between jagged breaths. "Please... Please."

His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas.

Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he fucking knows.

He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you; like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.

Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. It's temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he'd buried himself deep; once his cock was guided safely into your throbbing cunt.

You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.

Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats. He mumbles this way as he teases; as he plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink of desperate sobs as he guides his cockhead over your slippery, throbbing cunt... over and over.... and over...

Saying he liked you needy was an understatement.

Then, eventually, he slips inside. Just the tip.. and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.

This is when he gives you a hint of his strength. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his strong arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.

He keeps you there, just with a taste of that fullness—a taste of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he says, simple and a little croaky.

You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily—his lips chasing yours as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Daryl," you gasp eventually. "Now. Please."

His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck.

Then he pulls you down to meet his cock, to fuck himself deep. It's hard, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his neck weakly as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.

Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.

You nod weakly in response.

His fingers press into your skin moments before he's moving, fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his messy thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.

He's got you.

His breathing is quickly transformed into uneven pants as he attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... aren't you, baby? Hm?"

One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.

"My girl," he grunts. "My needy little girl."

It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips and tugs you down to meet him as he uses you, each thrust a slapping of skin and punching a helpless sound from your lungs.

Strength. Everything you've been forced to remember.

"Daryl," you gasp. "Daryl, fill me. Please."

His fingers dig a little more into your skin, his hair falling over his eyes. Then his lips part, a grunt... a broken, "Fuck."

He falls over you as he floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full—just like you asked. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lung fulls of air. "I got you."

#daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon x reader #x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

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celtic-crossbow · 4 months

Text

Y/N, giggling: You sneeze like a girl.

Daryl: How ‘bout I pound ya like a boy?

Daryl: …

Daryl: Tha’ didn’ come out righ’.

Y/N: I know what you meant. Your place or mine?

Daryl: Yers.

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kausstar · 3 months

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i just know they hit that one spot. every time. each thrust.

#♰ ݁.﹒porn material #i’m ovulating #it’s bad #the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #andrew lincoln #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #norman reedus

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ficnation · 1 year

Text

Chapter 3: Forgiveness

Series: Way Down We Go // Season 1

Word count: 3154

Pairing: Rick Grimes x Female! Reader; Shane Walsh x Reader; Daryl Dixon x Sister! Reader

Warnings: usual twd themes (e.g. descriptive gore, death, use of weapons, violence, cursing), death of a child (mentioned), daryl is kind of an asshole

A/n: It’s been a long time coming but the third chapter is finally finished! It took so long but I barely have time and motivation this year ;-; But here it is! I hope ya’ll enjoy it <3

If you’re not on the taglist but you’d like to be added let me know!

☁ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁

☁ 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁

☁ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ☁

Your ragged breath and the chirping of nearby birds were the only sounds that could be heard. Daryl stared at you with wide-open eyes and mouth gaping like a fish. He had no fucking idea what to think or do. His thoughts turned into a jumbled mess while you stood there with your eyes and fists clenched shut.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Merle’s muttering was the only thing that disturbed the silence. He was too stunned and not high enough to say anything more.

You sniffled, wiping the tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand. None of you had the tiniest idea of what to do now that the cat was out of the bag. Were you supposed to elaborate or wait for them to ask questions? Should they even ask questions? It wasn’t a typical situation that just happened to anyone from time to time. You killed seven people. Seven.

The quick beating of your heart was even more frustrating than the thoughts running through your head. It felt like it wanted to jump out of your chest and fall onto the leaf litter with a wet splash of blood. You wrung your hands nervously, avoiding your brothers’ eyes on your person. You had no idea if you could even look them in the eyes after this confession.

“I-” you started, looking for words to explain yourself, but Daryl’s stern glare made you shut your mouth before anything else could come out of it.

Your younger brother pointed an accusatory finger at you before striding towards you, taking long slow steps as if you were going to run like a spooked animal before he could reach you. No one could tell if the look in his eyes was rage or anguish, or maybe it was both mixed with confusion.

“Ya jokin’, right? Ya think tha’s gonna make me forgive ya?” You shrug your arms in defeat, focusing your gaze on his boots. “Then yer fuckin’ wrong,” he whispered menacingly, his breath brushing over your cheeks.

“Hey!” Merle shouts, taking Daryl’s stance so close to you as threatening, but he doesn’t move. “Ya get yer ass away from ‘er!”

His support didn’t make you feel better at all, and you knew it would only fuel Daryl’s outburst. You shuffled away from both of them, but instead of distancing yourself, you tripped over a tree root and landed on your bottom with a grunt. Nothing was going the way you hoped it would.

“I’m not Will. I ain’t gonna hit ‘er, asshole,” your younger brother said through clenched teeth. The broken look in his eyes made your heart pound in your chest, and it hurt.

You wanted to get up from the ground and tell him that you didn’t think he was like Will for even a second. The urge to hug him tight and let him know he’s nothing like your father was hard to resist. But you had to hold yourself back, afraid that you’d just push things further.

“I can explain everything. I can tell you why I couldn’t come back,” you tried, looking him right in the eyes. “Please, just give me a chance, Daryl.”

You decided it wasn’t worth it when you saw the anger simmering behind his irises. His face looked even angrier than before, almost frightening. And you couldn’t help but wonder how far things would go if you continued to try to reason with him. You were afraid that he’d scream at you to go back where you came from; what you were even more afraid of was that you knew you’d do that.

Daryl leaned down until he was inches away from your face. He grabbed your shoulders and squeezed them tightly, forcing you to look at him. There was a fire burning bright in his eyes, and you didn’t know if Daryl wanted to kill or just beat you senseless. You knew he wouldn’t do anything like that, not to you. No matter how much he hated you, your mother raised him right.

“I ain’t gonna listen to yer bullshit story. Nothin’ is gonna make me forgive ya for leavin’. Not even pity.” You gulped, feeling the lump in your throat constricting. He shook you a little, probably trying to scare you half to death, which he succeeded in doing.

“I just want to fix this.”

It angered Daryl even more, so he shoved you further onto the forest floor, ignoring Merle’s shout. You’ve never felt so pathetic in your life like in that moment. You’ve never been the one to plead for forgiveness.

“What did I fuckin’ say?!” He screamed in your face again.

It was impossible to keep your tears under control anymore. You didn’t know what to do anymore. Your brother hated your guts, and you doubted anything could change that.

Your lower lip trembled, your vision blurring, and the tears stinging at your eyelids, and all you could manage was a muffled: “I understand.”

He released you, letting you collapse on the grass as he stood up. Without another word, he disappeared into the forest.

“Shit, I almost forgot this guy’s temper.” Merle’s voice suggested he was pretty amused by the whole situation. He was never the one to take anything seriously for more than a few minutes.

“Don’t think he’ll ever lose that. None of us will,” you mumbled out. You were still reeling from the events that unfolded minutes ago. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, forcing yourself to stop crying so you could gather your thoughts.

“So what now?” Your brother asked. It was a good question that you, unfortunately, didn’t know the answer to.

You shrugged your shoulders and opened your eyes. “I... I guess I need to figure this shit out myself. Don’t know what I should do yet.”

“Ain’t gonna be an easy task makin’ ’im forgive ya.”

“Well...” You frowned, rubbing your forehead in thought. “If he’s planning to hate me forever, then maybe I should consider going back out there on my own.”

That brought a frown to Merle’s face as well. “Yer bein’ serious right now?”

You nodded slowly as Merle gaped at you, but both of you knew that he wouldn’t let you leave. The truth was, you couldn’t bear the thought of being alone after finding them, but what choice did you really have? It seemed like you were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Before Merle could say anything, his eyes snapped toward the sound of twigs breaking and leaves rustling in the distance. You exchanged looks, but neither one of you made any movements. You held your breath, craning your neck to see if anything was about to jump out of the bushes.

Seconds passed, seconds that felt like hours to both of you. The forest was silent except for the occasional bird chirping and the wind blowing through the trees. Neither of you dared to make a single movement, just listening to the sounds around you.

Suddenly, a loud thud came from the direction of the previous noise. You jumped up from your place on the ground, ready to fight whatever was coming your way.

But nothing came.

You waited for a few more moments, but still, nothing happened.

“What the fuck,” Merle muttered, throwing his hands in the air in anger.

He could swear something was hiding in those bushes, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to poke the bear. If he wasn’t going to do something about it, then you would. You bit your lip, hesitating for a couple of seconds before standing up. You walked forward cautiously, glancing at Merle every now and then.

You weren’t prepared this time when you caught a glimpse of something moving in different shrubs behind your brother.

In a split second, you lunged toward Merle, pushing him aside. A rotten hand painfully pulled on your arm, making you drop forward on the grass. You scrambled to your knees, loudly gasping and desperately trying to kick the undead away from you.

His skin was pale, his hair messy like a rat’s nest and black as pitch. But his cold dead eyes that gave you goosebumps were the ones that told you he had been dead for a while.

The straggler growled loudly, getting more aggressive with every second. It snapped its jaw closer to your face making you turn your head to the side to keep more distance from it. You kicked your leg, hitting it straight in the gut, moving it a few inches away with the force.

There was a sound of breaking twigs, and suddenly Merle appeared beside you. In his hands was a large branch that was almost bigger than him. He swung it at the creature, sending it flying backward, far away from you.

Merle hit the straggler again right on the head, this time with full force. The impact caused its’ skull to crack, and soon enough, blood spilled from its eyes and nostrils. The creature dropped dead.

“Shit, tha’ was somethin’.” Merle dropped the stick and nodded his head in approval of himself. “Still got it!”

“Be your own biggest fan, huh?” you mumbled to yourself, looking at your brother in disbelief. You got up from the ground on wobbly legs. “You think more of them are gonna show up?”

“How the hell would I know? Haven’t seen ’em so close to our camp before.” Merle scratched his head in thought, looking at the corpse, while you walked up to it and crouched down to check its pockets. “Plunderin’ corpses is yer niche now?”

You didn’t respond, taking a pack of cigarettes from the dead man’s jacket. You checked twice, but there was nothing else in his clothes. No weapon, no ammunition. That was a shame. You could’ve used some more bullets. It was something that you could never have enough of.

“Ya think I should keep the stick?”

Days went by quicker than you expected, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. Daryl still avoided you like the plague, Merle started to get on your nerves, and the undead seemed to mostly dodge your little settlement. Although you had to kill a few stragglers that wandered into the campsite, neither Daryl nor Merle thought they posed a real threat.

You were sharpening your knife in peace, whistling a quiet melody to soothe your restlessness. You woke up with a weird feeling that didn’t let you sit on your ass for longer than five minutes. It pricked your nerve endings, making pure annoyance shoot through your whole body.

Why wasn’t anything happening when your entire being screamed that danger was near? You couldn’t understand that and decided it was most likely because you weren’t used to peace. You lived your whole life on the edge of your seat, always in a state of run or fight.

“Wha’s wrong with ya?” When you stood up from your place to scout out the surrounding bushes again, Merle sighed. “Gnawers ain’t gonna jus’ appear from nowhe’, Baby. They don’ jump off planes with parachutes to hunt us down.”

“You say so?” You rolled your eyes at his comment, kicking a stray rock away from your pathway. You didn’t know what you expected to find there, but you were unsuccessful. “Nothing,” you mumbled out with resignation, walking back to the log and falling back down on it.

“Wha’ were ya hopin’ to find, huh?”

“I’m just restless. Do you think staying in one place for so long is a good idea?” Your fingers played with a loose strand on the hem of your shirt while you waited for Merle to give you some half-assed reassurance that’d do nothing to soothe your nerves.

“Don’ know. But we’re still alive, tha’ counts,” he mumbled barely coherently, never taking out the cigarette from between his lips while his hands were busy disemboweling a squirrel. It was a sight that wasn’t new to you but amused you just the same as years ago.

A comfortable silence has fallen between you for a few minutes. You looked around, your eyes already searching for Daryl before you could even think it through. He walked around the nearby trees, picking up thick branches for the nightly bonfire. He looked peaceful for the first time since you’ve reconnected. It was all it took for the guilt to swallow your heart again.

“Darylina gonna forgive ya real soon. Don’ even worry ’bout it,” Merle started the conversation once more. “Ya ain’t gonna tell yer older brother wha’ the Atlanta fuss was all ’bout?” He looked up from that damn bloody squirrel, piercing through you with his Dixon blue eyes. Your mother’s were of the same exact shade. It was one of the few things you still remembered about her.

The subject you tiptoed around for the last week finally crawled up to the surface. No matter how much you tried to avoid it, it had to be discussed at some point. That point inescapably came, and even if you weren’t ready to give him an explanation, you forced yourself to tell the story. He deserved to hear it just as much as Daryl.

“If you really want to hear about it…” you began, taking a deep breath in to stabilize your shaky voice. “I was working as a taxi driver. A simple job that paid the bills. I met some shady people there, Merle. And they were a lot fucking worse than those in our neighborhood. That kind that gave out opportunities to gain lots of money and didn’t take no for an answer.”

“Gang shit?” he asked, his entire attention focused on your story. He even forgot about the squirrel and his cigarette, listening carefully to your words. Never before has he acted like that. It has made you feel a lot calmer.

You noticed Daryl in the corner of your eye, glancing time after time in your direction. He was listening in on the conversation, trying to be discreet. You had to admit, he sucked at being discreet. But you continued with your story; it wasn’t about making him forgive and understand you anymore. It was about getting it all off your chest.

“I don’t even know, to be honest. They didn’t look like a gang, they looked like rich businessmen that needed someone else to do their dirty work. I couldn’t say no to them, they didn’t let me. They put me in a car, told me to wear some satanic devil mask and drive whenever and wherever they asked. And I did exactly what they told me to. Not because I wanted that money but because I was afraid of what they’d do to me if I refused.”

You could feel tears pricking your eyes at the memories of living in the unknown, not knowing why you were going somewhere and who or what you’d be driving around. Guns? A dead body? Murderers? You always tried to keep to yourself when fulfilling your “duties,” living in a permanent state of fear of what’d happen to you. But there was no getting out of it. Once you were inside the circle, even prison wouldn’t help you. They’d off you right after getting caught just to ensure you wouldn’t blabber on them.

“Tha’s wha’ they do.” Merle nodded his head in understanding. Whether he knew that from personal experience or from movies he watched, you weren’t sure, but he had an idea of what you were talking about and where the conversation was heading.

“One day, they told me to get in the car, gave me some weird tiny clicker and put the navigation on.” You stopped for a second to wipe off the tears running down your cheeks. Taking another shaky breath in, you smiled faintly and awkwardly at Merle. “Once I was there they called me on my phone, told me to press the button. I… I thought it was supposed to open the gate. Instead, two cars in front of me blew the fuck up.”

“Those motherfuckers… I swear tha’ if they’re not dead already, I’m gonna make ’em regret survivin’ for so long. Gonna cut their dicks off an’ stuff ’em down their throats,” your brother spat out those words with clenched teeth. His leg continuously bounced up and down in annoyance.

“No survivors. The newspaper said there was a child in one of those cars,” you continued, sniffling. You felt numb and guilty, and it was exactly what you deserved. You deserved to feel so much worse for what you’ve done.

Merle didn’t comment on that. He got up from his spot and walked over to you, pulling you into his arms while his hand caressed your hair soothingly. Your brother was never good at words, but his actions made the emotional barrier in you break into pieces; you couldn’t hold it together anymore. Sobs wrecked through your body while your hands grabbed Merle’s vest tightly, holding onto it for dear life. His clothes muffled your cries while you buried your face in his chest.

You needed that.

The sky has turned dark before you could even notice. Only when the stars started shining over your head did you become more aware of your surroundings. It wasn't really smart to walk around in the middle of the apocalypse with your head in the clouds, but you made an exception for yourself just this one time. You promised yourself it wasn't going to happen again. You needed to be focused on your surroundings more than ever.

You didn't do anything productive that day, sulking around and thinking through your every goddamn life decision. Merle and Daryl, let you be, now hustling around to set up the bonfire and cook some squirrel meat over it.

You looked over at them when your stomach grumbled loudly, and with a sigh, you decided it wouldn't be such a bad idea to join them.

"Ya feelin' better?" your older brother asked, passing you the squirrel meat on a sharpened stick.

Daryl raised his head at Merle's words, his eyes looking over to you to see for himself if you were alright. As much as he has convinced himself that he hated your guts, deep down, Daryl still cared, and he couldn't fight off the habit of checking up on you with his gaze once in a while.

"Not sure. But I'll be alright," you assured, twirling the stick between your hands mindlessly. "I have to be."

You caught Daryl's stare from across the bonfire, and you sent him a sad half-smile, making him retract his eyes back to his task.

You didn't know whether it was because of your talk with Merle or something else, but the atmosphere around the three of you had changed. You couldn't feel the tension and the hatred anymore. It gave you hope that someday it'll all be better.

@yttricuz @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelf-x @jessica-mikaelson18 @spidergirla5 @depressedfrog2 @kpopandharry @daryldixonstorm @clemscult @lonewolf471 @btsiguess-kpop@notquitecannon @the-daily-multi-fandom-post @xhannahbananax03 @sourwolf-sterek32 @wonderful-writer @apolloloki97 @huffledor-able541 @phoenixblack89 @yolobloggers @sexyseabass @sweetpotatospock @whiskeypowder @witch-of-letters @capsiclesdoll @kingtwhiddleston @incorrectcapsicle @queentorresstuff @witheringblooddemon

#the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #rick grimes x reader #shane walsh x reader #daryl dixon x sister!reader #merle dixon x sister!reader #dixon reader #y/n dixon #twd #female reader #x reader #way down we go #the walking dead x female reader #the walking dead rewrite #ficnation #WDWG

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