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Getting Adopted By The Survivors

Author’s Note: I’ve been rewatching the walking dead for the god knows how many times since lockdown began. I had this idea rollling around my head for a while so I wrote it down for ya’ll. How you enjoy. If this gets to 50 notes I’ll do a part 2

Grimes Family(Rick, Lori, Carl)

You were thirteen and found by Rick first

You were walking down the road, having been separated from your group by a herd just a couple days ago. He approached you on horseback, saying he was headed towards the city.

You told him not to go to the city and that it was dangerous but he wouldn’t listen and went anyway.

That evening he spotted you from the car, driving back to the camp. He got T-dog to pull over and pick you up. He brought you back to the camp where you met his family.

“I tried to warn you.” you told him. “Yeah, you did.” he chuckled and promised to help you find your group.

You left the atlanta camp with them, having nowhere else to go. You tried to keep Carl entertained when everyone was out looking for Sofia.

When Carl got shot you got upset. You tried to help around the farm or camp but everything you did just got you in more trouble. You eventually broke down, telling Lori you were sorry and you just wanted to help

Lori loving you as if you were her own. Insisting you share a tent with the grimes from day one.

Shane was especially sweet towards you from the beginning but you didn’t entertain him. You had more important things to do like help with the cooking and cleaning and babysitting Carl so that the adults could get work done.

 You calling Rick “Ricky boy.” and Carl “Twerp” when he gets on your nerves. Lori calling you “sweetpea” and Carl calling you “Stinker” when you get on his nerves.

Dale

You were fifteen and Dale’s neighbour before all this. It was just you, your dad, and the family dog. When the shit started to fly Dale offered you all a place in his RV

Later on your father got bit while looking for the family dog who got away. Dale mercifully put your dad down so you didn’t have to.

You bringing Amy and Andrea back to Dale and the four of you creating your own little family unit.

Dale would show you how to fix up the RV when it acted up. You would scavenge cars for parts the could be repurposed since you were faster than Dale.

Dale giving you chores to keep you out of trouble in the camp and refusing to let you do runs into town.

You and Dale taking turns keeping watch on top of the RV.

You always being the one to look after Sofia and Carl when the adults need to go and do stuff. This leads yu into becoming the ultimate babysitter, coming up with games and chores to keep the younger kids out of trouble.

You staying behind with Dale to help look after T-Dog when everyone goes looking for Sofia.

Coming to the farm and Dale and being his little yes man/woman/person. Him calling you “Sport”, “Champ” and “Kiddo.”

When Dale was attacked by the walker you took the gun from Daryl, saying how Dale put your dad down and you should return the favour. Telling Dale your sorry for not protecting him like he had protected you.

Turning cold and inconsolable the days after his death, and only Glen and Andrea really approaching you.

Andrea(Continuation of Dale)

It was after Dale’s death. He had saved you in the begining and you were completely distraught because of it, closing yourself off from the rest of the group, only really moving between the fields and the house.

You kept up your chores around the farm and kept the RV clean. That’s what Dale would want.

You and Andrea talking about everything the two of you had gone through and you breaking down in her arms.

Her teaching you how to fire a gun. Dale wouldn’t have approved but you needed to know now.

You trying to make her see that Shane doesn’t truely care for her the same way she cared for him. She doesn’t want to see it so you don’t push.

You and her being together when the barn burns down, later meeting Michone. You beg Michone to help Andrea.

The three of you surviving the winter together, later being taken to Woodbury.

You and Andrea trying to get Michone to see that Woodbury is a good place.

You supporting Andrea in everything but her just wanting you to be a kid again.

Her calling you “Sport”, “Champ”, and “Kiddo”, like Dale used to.

Green Family(Hershal, Maggie, Beth)

You were 8 years old and Otis and Patricia’s kid. You had been living with the Green family for a while, trying to survive together quite well Hershal let you ride the horses and Maggie had you feeding the chickens. It was boring being the only kid there though.

The first time you seen a kid was when a man in a sherif uniform came in carrying a boy in his arms, saying he was shot. Hershal looked after him right away while you looked from the top of the stairs.

You give your favourite teddy bear to the mother of the shot boy, telling her that the soft toy makes you feel better when you’re sick so hopefully it’ll make him feel better too.

You not liking Shane because your dad had come back every time he went out except for when he went out with Shane.

Lori picking you up and carrying you off the farm when it got taken over by walkers.

Beth and Maggie taking care of you during the 7 months on the road through the winter, singing you to sleep and telling you stories.

Herschel letting you sit in when he’s teaching Carol some basic medicine.

You and Carl didn’t get along that much cause he wanted to help the adults, not play with a little kid like you

Beth and you singing to baby judith in the Prison, always helping her take care of her when you weren’t taken up with chores and other business.

You being Hershal’s little medical assisstant, learning lots of valuable medical information and becoming a great help despite being so young

You eventually calling Hershal “Pops” after a while. Hershal calling you “Little Doc” and “trouble maker”. Beth and Maggie calling you “butthead” to get a rise out of you.

Dixon Family (Merle and Daryl)

You were ten and very good and moving through the crowds. You were too short and fast for a lot of the walkers to get a hold on you and your dad used that, making you go out to find food and supplies most of the time while he stayed holed up in your Atlanta apartment

You heard a man yell and you went to see what was going on. You found a man handcuffed to the roof with walkers trying to push the door down to get to him. He asked you to hand him the saw and you helped.

You brought Merle back to your Atlanta apartment, which your dad didn’t like so he beat you. It continued for a couple days where you’d go out and your dad would beat you for bringing back to little. One day Merle had enough and beat the shit out of your dad. The following morning your dad was gone.

You calling Merle “Mr. Merle.” and Merle calling you “kid.”

You believe everything Merle says because he swears he would never lie to you. He also teaches you how to track game in the woods. He also taught how to curse which made him laugh like crazy everytime you did.

You two getting picked up and going to Woodbury. You preferring to spend all your time with Merle instead of the other kids cause you think they’re stupid and weak and they bullied you cause you told them they were stupid and weak.

Merle and you spending all your free time at Woodbury’s library. Him reading to you. Him not minding you spending all your time with him since you reminded him so much of little Daryl. The two of you making a plan on how to escape Woodbury if it came to it.

The night the governor put Merle and his brother against each other you screamed at them to stop and cried, being held back by a woman. You cursed out the governor. When the smoke rose you grabbed a pistol off of one of the men and ran after Merle.

Staying with Merle and “Mr. Merle’s Brother” after Rick refuses to let Merle back. “You should go back with them, kid.” Merle would try to tell you. “I wanna stay with you, Mr Merle. Not that dickhead!”

Daryl became fond of you during the little time spent with just the three of you, especially how you had no fear of walkers and had no trouble letting himself and Merle know what you were thinking.

When you end up back at the prison you insist on staying outside the cell block with Merle. A woman named Carol came up to you “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sleep in here on a proper bed?” she asked. “I ain’t repeating myself to you dumb bitch!”. The prison gang informally refers to you as Merle Jr., regardless of gender.

Williams Family (Sasha and Tyreese)

You were 9. Your parents had been part of the group but didn’t make it. Since then Tyreese and Sasha took care of you the most. They would give up their food so you could eat and Tyreese would carrying you when you got too tired to walk.

They would call you “Buddy” and “Boo”. You calling Tyreese “Reeses” because his name reminds you of the candy.

When you arrived in the prison you found yourself enamoured by Carl. He was a kid too and he was able to shoot a gun and kill walkers. You immediately went to Tyreese and begged him to teach you how to use a gun, which he would repeatedly refuse.

You being the only one that could get Sasha to calm down when she gets a little riled up. 

You thought Sasha’s hair was the coolest thing in the world when it wasn’t tied down and just in one big fro. Her letting you braid it and tie it up for her, mainly to keep you busy for a while since your smaller hands needed extra time to handle her curls.

Tyreese’s girlfriend Karen referring to the two of you as ‘Big and small’

You telling them about Lizzie and how she thinks the walkers are people, so they ban you from playing with her. 

You getting stuck with Tyreese and Carol after the prison falls and keeping a distance between yourself and Lizzie, becoming very protective of Judith whenever Tyreese isn’t around.

When Lizzie kills Mika, you throw yourself infront of Judith and yell at her to stay away, this prompts Carol and Tyreese to run to you. Tyreese takes you and Judith inside while Carol handles Lizzie. Tyreese consoles you while you cry, telling him how worried you were she was going to do something to Judith

At terminus when you, Judith, and Tyreese are left in the cabin with Martin. You stab Martin in the neck when he lunges for Judith. When Tyreese asks where you got the knife, you admit to taking it off of Lizzie’s corpse so you could better protect him and Judith.

Chambler Family (Tara, David, Lily, Meghann)

You were 7 and the Chambler’s were your neighbours. You went to school with Meghan so your families came together when the end came. One day your mom went out to gather supplies and never came back.

You and Meghan kept each other busy, playing games with each other, though you were louder than Meghan which made Tara give out to you a lot.

You and Meghan take turns playing backgammon with her grandfather. Later you take turns playing chess with ‘Brian’, and he teaches you two how to play against each other but you both prefer to play against him.

Lily trying her best to be a good mother figure for you, trying to keep some semblance of normalcy for you and Meghan.

When Philip takes you all to the camp you’re initially more recluse, being in another strange new situation. You find yourself clinging to Tara and her new girlfriend during this time, following them around the camp.

Tara calling you “Bubbles” cause you seem to pop up around her out of nowhere.

You being there when Meghan got attacked and running to get Lily. You silently follow her to the battlefield at the prison and watch as ‘Brian’ shoots her. You crawled into the back of one of the cars to try and escape the onslaught of bullets. 

Later you see Tara leaving the prison with an asian man and run after her. She’s shocked to see you there but picks you up and takes her with you, which the man readily agrees to.

Glen pitches that they should teach you how to fire a gun so that you can defend yourself. You get plenty of opportunity on the road and by the time you find Glen’s wife your a crack shot, much to the horror of the other survivors.

You sleeping in Tara’s lap every night because she’s the only family you have left.

The Governor

You were 13 when you met him. You had been on the road on your own since your mom turned. Your aunt had refused to put her sister down and ended up being attacked. You didn’t have it in you to put them down so you left them locked in the shop.

He had been with a group and when he found out you were on your own he offered to take you back to his town. You said you’d go if he put down your mom and aunt. “I’m not strong enough to do it and they don’t deserve to be left like that.”

They agreed and you led them to the store. There they put the two woman down and took the supplies. He didn’t realise how young you actually were until you got upset at the sight of your mother but he already promised to take you back and there was lots of supplies at the shop.

You becoming a Mini Governor to the kids of Woodbury and rallying the ones old enough to join the army. “The governor works hard to keep you safe, it’s about time you helped!”

You being privy to all of the governor’s shady dealings.

You being introduced to Penny. Him referring to her as “Your little sister.” You being initially shocked but later being okay with it. You finding pretty hair pins and taking toys back to the governor for “When Penny gets better.”

You being able to boss around The Governor’s men as much as you want.

Andrea often being asked to keep an eye on you, but you actually being the one to keep an eye on her.

You and The Governor being left for dead then going back to Woodbury, buring it down in temper. You both survive together alone for months until he sees Meghan Chamber. Him telling you to stay put while he checks it out and to leave if he doesn’t come back.

He never comes back and you’re left alone again.

Father Gabriel

You were 14 when you went to the church. Your foster home had been over run and you were in desperate need for some spiritual help. You arrived just as he had returned from one of his walks. He said you could stay as all of god’s children deserved shelter.

You being too afraid to open the doors to let others in incase Gabriel says you can’t remain, so you sit in the back office with your hands over your ears. Every morning you go and pray for forgiveness

You being the one to run into town for supplies because you want to protect Gabriel and keep him alive. 

Being apprehensive when the survivors arrive, only lowering your guard a little when Gabriel explains how he saved him.

You reading the bible and learning to quote the scripture, mainly out of boredom then anything else. You and Gabriel getting into discussions on what each passage actually means.

You learning about Gabriel sneaking out of the church but not telling the other survivors. “If we need to get away from them it’ll be good to have,” you admitted.

You and Gabriel often talking about what the lord thinks of your actions, ultimately not being able to comfort each other much. 

You often defend Gabriel infront of the other survivors, not letting them get away with speaking any kind of ill towards him.

You only really disagree with Gabriel when he sells out the group to Deanna. This leads to you two having a big argument, him defending that Rick’s group are murderers and you defending that they have kept you safe. You ultimately lose your loyalty to him and stick with Rick’s group for a while.

When a herd surrounds Alexandria you reunite with Gabriel. You both beg the other for forgiveness. “You were a father to me when you didn’t need to be and I-” you began, your voice breaking. Gabriel held you close. “What matters is that we are together now, my child.”

Gabriel asking for your help to assist Rick in clearing out the walkers and you jumping to his side. The two of you drawing strength from each other.

merle was a creep at times but he was on his way to redemption. i love the idea of sort-of-brother-in-law merle that got to live a little longer and make an effort to be a better person.

this is assuming daryl's partner is a female, btw

❜ ─ more under cut ─ ❛

• merle realizing just how head over heels daryl is for you. he would give him HELL over it but at the end of the day he would be so protective over this little ray of light in his baby brother's life

• you think daryl can be scary when a guy's looking at you the wrong way? the guy's quite literally done for when merle finds out

• "merle, you can't say that, that's offensive-" "aw hell, y'all are some damn pansies!"

• "lemme know when you get tired of my little bro, i'll show you what a real man's like-" "you ever shut yer damn mouth, merle?"

• ^ he's not serious though. he just likes to get daryl riled up and thinks it's funny to see your nose scrunch up in disgust, even if he does end up getting clocked in the jaw for it

• when the brothers go on supply runs, merle points out necklaces or earrings they come across, encouraging daryl to take it for you because "women love shiny shit"

• he's always asking you when you're going to pop out a little boy so he can finally be an uncle

• "how ya know it wouldn't be a girl?" "ain't been a girl with dixon blood since i been alive, brother. ain't gonna happen." (if you and daryl have a baby, it definitely does happen)

• when the prison falls, you can't find daryl and there's no more time, so you end up running from the prison with merle

• he hates it

• like every second of it

• not necessarily because he minds your company, but moreso because this is a huge fucking weight on his shoulders

• your wellbeing is now his #1 priority because you're daryl's girl and that makes you family, and he has no intentions of letting his little brother down again

• so it's a lot of pressure

• plus you keep giving him that nasty ass side-eye like he pissed in your cornflakes any time he says something that he finds hilarious (it's actually just offensive), and he's starting to think your sense of humor is nonexistent

• you expect him to make some vulgar jokes or try to come onto you at any given minute, but to your surprise, he actually never does

• like i said, he was never serious and he only joked about it to mess with daryl. without daryl around, he's rather respectful of your space

• at night he tells you stories of his time in the military before he got discharged and went to prison

• please don't cry around him :) he likes you and all, but he would really rather cut off his other hand than have to try and comfort you - that's daryl's job

• the only time he manages to not be an ass when you're crying is when you mention worrying about daryl and missing him

• merle lets out a hefty sigh in response, ruffles your hair with his one hand, and admits that he misses him, too

Best Served Cold

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Warning: NSFW. Attempted SA. Unprotected p-in-v. I don’t condone cheating (unless it’s on abusers lol). Semi-public sex and getting caught doing it in a tent 🫣 Based on this kickass idea from @dilfsandmartinis (I'm so sorry it took this long for me to post the story) !! 💓

Your man returned to your tent that night like he did most others: slick with sweat and too tired for sex. At least not again, not with you. He would undoubtedly claim to have been checking the perimeter, standing guard like a good leader should, but any blind man in that quarry camp could’ve seen he was just boning Lori.

A lot.

You were really more offended that he thought you stupid enough to abide by his lies than the fact he was fucking someone else. That part wasn’t new—his dick never knew how to stay in one hole longer than a month or two—but in an apocalypse? With his newly-deceased best friend’s widow? That was low, even for Shane.

Which was why you felt no compunction yourself as you slipped quietly from your tent toward the water’s edge that night, pink vibrator clutched tightly in hand.

Useful little thing that it was, a six-setting suction device that worked wonders on your clit, even underwater. You figured since Shane couldn’t be bothered with you or your sexual pleasure so long as the former Mrs. Grimes was occupying his time, you’d make use of this sex toy instead and start really leaning into the “self care” you’d been craving for so long.

The water was warm all the way up to your chest, and the air around you tepid. You moved around, treaded in place, and finally reached comfortable bearings a couple yards from shore. You relished the solitude and silence.

The moment you felt the toy come to life in your hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Exhaling as you brought the tip close to your center.

“Shit.” Even the gentlest setting too harsh on your clit, you nipped your lower lip and bit back a whimper.

You swirled it lightly on your inner thigh, tried painstakingly as ever to acclimate yourself to the buzz of the rubber, but damn were you sensitive. Almost too tender to be touched, too ripe with excitement and aching for the feel of something on you, or in you, or just barely skimming the surface of your skin underwater.

A low moan escaped your lips the second the head drifted back to your clit. Your toes curled into rough, rocky terrain underfoot, and your breaths started to quicken. You made a gentle motion with your hips—a sweet, semi-circular thing you’d been doing over Shane’s lower half as long as you could remember—begging for more friction, needing more of that mechanical hum.

You pressed the button for a higher setting. The peaks of your pleasure soared to new heights.

You were helpless to the trembling of your knees and felt immensely grateful for the water’s aid in keeping you straight. You pressed the rounded tip of the toy even tighter to your core and didn’t heed a thing around you as you sighed several expletives under your breath. A jolt of bliss washed over your body.

Your eyes had just started to close in the first throes of that wild sensation, when a new sound startled you.

“Ya done pissin’ or what?”

You shot a look toward the shore and saw a slightly less-than cheery individual standing at the edge of it, the toes of his boots grazing the incoming waves.

You froze in place. You hardly knew what to say.

“Ain’t safe fer you out here ‘n you know it. Come on.” Daryl beckoned you with one hand and started to turn.

At what point was it appropriate to tell him you were naked?

You thought he could surmise from the fact you were neck-deep in the water and refusing to move that maybe something more was keeping you in. Daryl seemed clueless, however.

“I ain’t got all night, kid,” he snorted, “’f you don’t hurry, Shane an’ the rest of ‘em’ll be out and— ah.”

Ah.

At the last, he stepped on a pile of clothes folded neatly on the shoreline nearby, undergarments and all.

So this wasn’t a midnight swim or a late night piss at all, but a full-blown skinny dip. He should have known you weren’t the bikini type.

Awkwardly, almost begrudgingly, Daryl gathered what clothes of yours he could and chucked them closer to the lake. Then he turned on his heels and stalked up the beach without another word—fuming, it seemed to you. Once averted, though, Daryl’s face betrayed a look of horror. Like a parent who’d just stumbled upon a box of condoms in their daughter’s sock drawer after swearing she was still a virgin.

In the few short weeks since you’d been thrown together in this mess, Daryl had practically taken to you like family. He hated Shane ‘Shit-for-Brains’ Walsh most days, it was true, but the fact that you were you, and times were tough, and nothing seemed to occupy Daryl’s mind quite like the thought of keeping you safe, that he had to keep you close at all times. He just hadn’t imagined your proximity would turn this intimate so suddenly.

“Keep up,” he spoke more sharply than usual. Didn’t even wait for you to dry and dress completely before snagging your hand in his.

You glanced at your taut, hardened nipples poking up through the damp material of your tank top and suddenly wished you’d brought a towel. Or a bra. Your shorts, too, clung to your ass like a second skin and made you feel extra bare before Daryl’s eyes—even if he hadn’t spared a look at you once as you’d traipsed behind him through the woods.

When you tripped, he held you up; when you nearly ate shit over several rocky spots, he carried you over them. His eyes never strayed toward your body, though.

Once you’d made it to the clearing where your group had made camp, Daryl lowered you to the ground and still couldn’t find it within himself to look your way. You shuffled uncomfortably on your feet, now standing inches away from the tent you shared with Shane.

“Thanks for...that,” you said, flatly.

Daryl managed a curt nod.

Before you turned in, you decided to venture a look at Daryl’s chest, and you felt an influx of embarrassment. The taupe-colored cutoff he wore as a shirt was soaked with water. Instinctively, you brushed your fingers over the stain—as if touching it might dry the fabric, or else mask your humiliation at being the cause. You tried not to evince a hint of surprise at how sturdy he felt.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Daryl.”

You hadn’t thought any man was capable of looking more afflicted than Daryl did before, but somehow, incredibly, he appeared even more ill at ease when you touched him. You immediately retracted your hand.

“’S’okay,” he managed. He would’ve given anything not to be where he was, or who he was, at that moment.

Just when another apology leapt to your tongue—feeling even worse that you might’ve crossed a physical boundary you shouldn’t have—a twig snapped close-by.

You and Daryl jumped in your skin. You turned toward the source of the sound.

Shane was tugging his pants into place, pulling the zip up in haphazard fashion as he marched out of the woods.

He’d either been blowing Lori’s back out (again) or off to take a piss in the bushes. By the looks of his dazed and drowsy expression, you guessed it was the latter.

“Got a nice rack, doesn’t she?” Shane observed, careless as ever.

He walked past the two of you and unzipped the tent.

“I was jus—” Daryl started.

“Don’t care,” Shane cut in, “Goodnight.”

You were amazed at the level of nonchalance your fiancé exhibited. On finding you soaked to the bone and touching another man in the middle of the night, the old Shane probably would’ve laid Daryl flat on his ass.

But overprotective, possessive Shane was no more.

Before disappearing into the tent, Shane reached for your elbow. You barely got another glimpse at Daryl as you were ushered inside.

The tent was re-zipped in an instant, and you assumed Daryl would be quick to leave the scene, too.

You turned and saw Shane fumbling to unscrew the lid of his canteen. Taking several big gulps before re-fastening the top, tossing the jug to the side, and letting out a sigh.

“You get a look at the hard-on he had?” Shane chuckled.

You almost choked on your spit.

“What?”

“Pitched a tent in his pants bigger’n this,” he returned, gesturing to the polyester enclosure overhead. Then he got back to his feet, walked over to you, and kept going, in spite of your perplexed expression, “He must really wanna fuck you.”

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were more baffled by Shane’s serene demeanor or the fact that you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s boner. You decided to overlook the erection for the time being.

“And you don’t...care if he did?” Instantly chiding yourself for the twinge of indignation in your tone.

“Nuh-uh,” Shane said. His hands came to rest comfortably on your hips, and he seemed to be hearing your words without really comprehending what you meant. As usual.

If he picked up on the irritation in your voice, he didn’t show it. He just rolled the denim of your shorts between his fingers and pulled you closer.

“This,” he hummed, fingers sinking between your legs, “is not for him.”

And Shane was community dick. Made sense.

You didn’t attempt to conceal your annoyance this time as you rolled your eyes and pushed his hands away.

“Well maybe if Daryl asked nicely…” you trailed off, starting toward the bed.

Shane stopped you before you could. He took a firmer hold of your sides and showed the first real hint of jealousy in his eyes. You were almost glad to see it.

“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. Then, snaking his touch back down your legs—with the fabric of your shorts fisted in his hands this time—he continued amidst your quiet protests.

You were gripping his wrists, trying to keep them from moving any further. But Shane was insistent.

“He wouldn’t get to ask nicely, because I’d blow his fucking brains out before he ever got the—”

“Shane.” You were actively shoving his hands off now. You didn’t mind this envious side coming back to the surface, but you would not, under any circumstance, be Shane’s sloppy seconds the same hour he’d fucked Lori.

“No. You— you smell like—” you cut yourself off before the woman’s name could leave your lips.

“Like what?” Shane snapped. Suddenly intrigued to hear what you had to say.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but when you couldn’t, and when he pressed you again, you sputtered some nonsense about his drinking—how he reeked of booze, not Rick’s wife.

“Thought you liked it when I fucked you drunk,” Shane grinned, voice dripping with condescension, “Said it gave me stamina.”

You’d said no such thing. You groaned lightly as Shane managed to pull your panties and shorts, together, to your ankles. When he started to take them off at your feet, he hardly seemed to notice your nails dig in his shoulders, silently begging him to stop.

“Think I should invite Daryl back over? Let him watch me fuck you stupid?” Shane’s mouth was hovering close to your center, hot breaths fanning over your lower half.

In any other situation, you would’ve craved him here: on his knees, ready to suck and lick and dick you down like he always used to do. But things were different now, you had to remind yourself. Apart from the walking dead invading your world, there was no Rick in the picture, no semblance of platonic feelings between his widow and your fiancé—you felt physically sick at the thought of Shane touching you now. You tried to stand the instant he threw you on the bed.

“Shane, I don’t wanna—”

“Fuck? Yeah, I figured,” Shane shrugged as he tried to peel your shirt off your body.

“Then quit,” you hissed. You were starting to fear the fabric might tear if you held on any tighter.

When it seemed evident you weren’t going to give in on the top, Shane let go and turned to his pants instead. Pinning you down with one hand, he unbuckled his belt as you whimpered and pleaded that he stop. The sounds only made the mound in his pants more pronounced.

The two of you had dabbled in CNC before, but this was not that. No safeword, no fallback, no trace of consent between you, and to be frank, you were starting to get scared. The second Shane freed his cock from his boxers, you felt a surge of panic rise to your chest.

“Fuck— STOP!” Without thinking, you jerked your knee.

You hadn’t meant to hit his balls so hard. But you did. And he folded in half, seizing with pain, while you took that as your chance to slide off the bed, slip on your panties—and hightail it the fuck out of there.

Shane’s cries pierced the night air like a blade through rotted flesh. You stumbled, half-blind in the dark, and blazed a reckless path through the tents all around you. Weaving in and out of neighboring spaces, searching desperately for any lone, dim glow of a lantern to tell you someone was awake to hear your pleas if needed. But sadly, no tent was alight but yours, and the entrance to that was presently being torn open once more as Shane staggered out there himself.

“Y/N!” he bellowed.

In your haste, you’d tripped over Glenn’s knapsack. You scraped your knee, scrambled back to your feet, and tried with everything in you not to make a sound as you retreated further from Shane’s voice.

You probably looked feral, weaving in and out of tents with your knee leaking blood and your pupils grown wide with fear. You scampered fast across the rocky campgrounds and made a beeline for the woods.

Until Shane’s footsteps fell heavy mere feet away.

Quickly changing course, you dove for the nearest tent and ripped it open. When you slipped inside, zipped it up, and went crab-walking backward like a panic-stricken animal, you hardly saw much of anything else.

Had your pulse not been pounding in your ears and your gaze not glued to the front of the tent, you likely would’ve gotten a pretty good laugh at the sight behind you.

At the very least, a chuckle or a smile or a slightly sheepish blush would’ve been supplied in a second, seeing someone wide-eyed and holding his cock in a death grip just inches from your rear.

You’d unwittingly scrambled into the tent of a man who’d just been beating his dick off furiously to the thought of you—and there you were, sitting pretty in pure, unadulterated fear for the sight of your fiancé any second now. When you turned your head, your hand flew to your mouth.

“Dar— oh!”

Like before, your heads snapped in the direction of a new sound, quick to sense that it was Shane, and this time, you went crawling over to the archer without a second thought. Hardly noticing his pants were down, you leapt into his lap.

“Y/N—” Shane hissed as he tripped over something outside. You heard a clatter and a bang, the sound of a few curse words sputtered in vain, and a groan. Daryl’s arms snaked around your sides and pulled you closer.

“What’ve ya gone and done this time?” he whispered.

“Told him no,” you murmured back.

You pretended not to feel the singe of Daryl’s gaze boring straight through the side of your head. Then a little lower, to your near-bare lower half and shaking legs. It didn’t take long for him to piece together what had happened.

“Y/N,” Daryl started, far louder than you could bear. You shushed him swiftly, ignoring the flare of anger in his eyes that told you he was currently conjuring up fifty different ways to kill Shane and just aching to act on it.

“Don’t. Please,” you said.

“Did he—”

“No. I...kneed him in the balls before he got the chance.”

“Oh.”

Shane was pacing outside, like he knew you were somewhere close. He called your name every now and then, drew near enough to send you rigid with fear. Then Daryl would hold you tight, stroke your hair, or else just graze his lips on your shoulder to let you know he was there, and eventually, the fright would subside. You nestled yourself into that touch and felt something far kinder than fear for the first time in a long time.

You felt aroused.

Ever more inspired by the sound of Shane stewing, fuming outside within earshot and the nudge of Daryl’s member against your barely-clothed core. Well…you were tempted, to say the least. You just weren’t sure if Daryl would be on board for being your lightning-quick rebound fuck of the night.

You sighed as his hips moved gently against your own.

“You think maybe—” you started.

“Yeah?”

“—you might…tell me what you were doing before I barged in here?”

Even in the dark, you could sense a blush creeping up his neck. You loved to see a man like Daryl flustered.

“Oh, uh, that?” he said in half a chuckle. Glancing down at his groin and going back and forth between two thoughts in his mind, most likely. Tell you the truth or come up with a half-assed lie on the spot.

“Just…jerking off to you.”

He never had been any good at a bluff.

Your face visibly brightened in the dim glow of the tent. You tried not to let your elation get too far ahead of you, though, lest your voice raise above a whisper and draw Shane’s attention.

“Yeah? What about?”

Daryl never thought it possible for a woman’s enthusiasm in a question to turn him on, but yours did. He looked to your lips and swallowed, suddenly at a loss for how to answer.

“I…well…”

“You’re fucking dead to me, Y/N. If you don’t—”

Your fiancé’s voice was as close, and as terrifying, as it had ever been. You eased Daryl onto his back.

“Were you thinking of this?” you teased.

You made that soft semi-circular motion with your hips and watched a brand new face contort with pleasure. The footsteps outside hardly registered in your mind any longer, as your attention was singly focused on Daryl.

He fought a groan in his throat as you grazed your slick heat over his length.

You coated him with your arousal quicker than even you had expected. You knew you were turned on, but never had it been like that, where you were damn near dripping sweet nectar all over a man’s cock. You let a little whine leave your lips.

You couldn’t help it; your cunt rocked back and forth over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and made obscene sounds as you did. The archer’s hands found your hips and gently guided you up and down as his own moans struggled to break loose.

You could’ve stayed like that forever, you figured—if you hadn’t been so fucking wet that the head of his cock slipped inside of your heat the second you and Daryl bucked your hips together. An inch was quick to stretch to seven before you could think or blink or do anything else but groan in pleasure, and suddenly, he was bottoming out inside you.

“Fuck!” Daryl hissed.

“Daryl!”

“Daryl?”

Fucking Shane, of all voices you didn’t want to hear in that moment. Fortunately, he’d heard Daryl’s voice alone and not the sound of your moan, calling his name at the same time, for entirely different reasons, it seemed.

Daryl gritted his teeth as you bounced on his cock,

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for Y/N. You seen her, brother?”

Seen you, felt you, fucked you, yeah—he had.

Daryl closed his eyes and tried not to blow his load on the spot as you squeezed around him.

“No— no, I haven’t. Not since earlier,” he grunted.

“You sure?” Shane pressed, dissatisfied, “I heard her running around this way.”

You braced your knees against the ground and rode the man beneath you even harder, taking every ounce of resentment you felt toward Shane out on Daryl’s cock. Fuck if revenge sex didn’t feel nice when the object of your ire was standing right outside the tent.

You almost wanted to moan, wanted to whimper, but were quick to think better of it the longer you spent moving up and down his length. Seeing shades of lust in his eyes like never before, you just couldn’t bear the thought of having to pry yourself off any time soon.

Daryl sank his fingers into your thighs and sighed, leaving ten perfect crescents in their wake.

“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he murmured.

“Could ya— could you come outside and help me look?”

‘Come the fuck on’ seemed to be the silent, shared sentiment between you and Daryl as your bodies writhed fast against each other and your highs came close into view. You braced your hands against his chest and begged him not to answer with your eyes, but you also knew Daryl couldn’t not say something to him, either.

“I…I’m sure she’s fine.” Daryl tried, weakly.

He flipped you over so you were flat on your back, hands careful not to make much noise or cause you discomfort as he did. Cock never leaving your wet, greedy hole, he found it easier than ever to resume the pace you’d made above him—now pounding you quietly into his sleeping pad.

You gripped his back and, simultaneously, bit down on his shoulder to keep from letting out a shriek when he grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you. Tried not to whine when he hit it again. And again. And again.

Shane was growing impatient. Hovered close to the front of the tent so you could see the outline of his shadow.

“You got something better to do, Dixon?” he snapped.

Yeah, fuck your fiancée, Daryl thought with a smirk. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him even deeper.

That light, airy feeling preceding ecstasy was close at hand. You wanted to give in—let the levee break and just relish the sweet sensation quick to follow—but you knew you couldn’t. Knew yourself too well to be a screamer not to hold on a little longer, until Shane had left.

But the way Daryl’s cock was pumping in and out of you at present made it hard, to say the least.

“Just…tired, ‘s’all,” Daryl groaned close to your ear.

“Tired from what?!” Shane jeered, “Wrist been hurtin’ from how hard you’ve been jerkin’ it to Y/N, huh?”

You almost burst out laughing. Daryl quickly cupped your mouth. Fucked you harder to shut you up.

And shut up you did; but not for long, you feared. The faster he pounded you, the more that coil in your stomach came to swell, and soon enough you might—

“Eat shit, Walsh.”

“Just help me out. Please.”

Daryl shook his head and fucked you harder, much to your chagrin. You didn’t want him to stop, but you needed him to, in truth, or that swollen thing inside of you just might get the better of you and burst. You pressed your hands to his chest and tried to whimper something softly, but Daryl just hushed you with his hand to your mouth and kept on at that breakneck pace. Your eyes rolled back, your legs started to shake, and if Daryl hadn’t had to tear his attention away to say something to Shane, he might have seen how close you were to blowing your cover…before it was too late.

With one more stroke inside your wet, sensitive hole, you felt a cord inside you snap and a flurry of wild, unbridled bliss take over, stronger than you’d felt in ages.

A shriek desperate to escape your throat, your teeth raked down Daryl’s flesh with the force of it, and, instinctively, the man yanked his hand away and yelped.

You hated to do it, but the feeling was just too good. Your lips parted to release one of the most lewd and obscene sex screams of your life—with Daryl’s name following over and over as you came.

Daryl’s eyes grew to half the size of his face, it seemed. Stilling inside you, feeling your sweet, hot juices flow down him in waves, he sat there and couldn’t quite decide if he was more turned on or terrified.

When Shane tore through the fabric of the tent and charged inside, he figured it out pretty quickly, though.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Warnings: NSFW. Every TWD character is drunk in this. Unprotected p-in-v. Soiling Michonne’s decorative towels and almost drowning Eugene. Carol-mandated makeup time with Daryl turns to edging and angry sex.

And the Oscar for Best Faked Orgasm goes to…

“Y/N,” Daryl groaned, shooting his load deep inside you.

You arched your back and curled your toes, even let out a sultry little gasp for good measure. Forced your walls to clench around his cock then pulse, periodically—you counted a silent one, two, squeeze in your head every so often and tried to make it so your tremors felt authentic. You practically had this shit down to a science by now.

Women like you weren’t built for quickies. You needed more time to cum, no matter the occasion.

You simply couldn’t and wouldn’t ever make it to climax with fifteen seconds of foreplay followed by Daryl throwing you up against the counter and jackhammering you hard on the edge for three minutes max. This wasn’t a porno, and you didn’t have a clit made of firecrackers.

Men like Daryl couldn’t stand the thought of you not cumming every time you had sex, though, so you sought to ease his mind on the matter during times you knew it was a physical impossibility to reach bliss. A liar you were not, but an occasional teller of euphoric fibs? Hell, you might’ve been tempted to dabble every now and then.

You adored the way he looked down at you when he finished, chocolate locks matted to his forehead and a smile shining bright on his face. He was tender and sweet, always gentle to pry you off of the sink, and he’d be watching you with admiration all the while.

Rick and Michonne’s booze-fueled pool parties had that effect on you both—always scrambling for a spare room to fuck in the second you arrived like you’d forgotten how good the other one looked dressed in swimwear.

Daryl shimmied the bottom half of your lime green bikini back up your legs and patted your rear with affection.

“I think Rick would be proud,” he said.

“I think Michonne would be pissed.”

You glanced down at the lovely little decorative towels Daryl had used as a sweat rag and made a mental note to wash those back at your place. You yelped when Daryl dropped his hand back down to your heat.

“Still sensitive?” he smiled.

“Uh huh.”

You were already trying to slide past his frame toward the bathroom door, where the sounds of the party outside were growing louder each minute. In truth, you knew that spot where Daryl’s fingers had almost grazed would have been a lot more sensitive had you actually just came, and that tell alone would have given your act away. You couldn’t have that, so you quickly pulled him in for a kiss and pushed his hands back up to your hips.

Daryl’s tongue traced the seal of your lips and parted them for a far more passionate kiss than you’d expected. You let his tongue roam anyway, but inside, you felt slightly confused as to why your boyfriend was still so…horny when he’d just blown his load a minute ago.

You moved languidly toward the door as Daryl continued to kiss you. He was touching your waist a little strangely, the more you came to think of it. Maybe frisky from the whiskey?

Your hand reached the doorknob the second his did. Daryl pulled away and let the corners of his mouth twist almost cruelly in a grin before turning the handle and nudging you out.

You shuffled a few awkward steps past the door. Daryl was hot on your heels, hand at the small of your back when his lips returned to your ear—just for a second, this time. He leaned in close, now, and murmured real low:

“I know you faked it.”

Then he pushed you forward again, only for you to trip over your own two feet trying to turn and face him.

“What?” you hissed. Playing dumb.

But if you could play dumb, Daryl was more than happy to play stupid as fuck. He ignored your outburst altogether and waved at someone behind you, pretending not to see you staring up at him with exasperation painting your face.

“Eugene! Swim trunks look great.”

Across the room, Eugene extended a lengthy ‘thank you’ and told Daryl that he, too, was looking snazzy, and you knew better than to try and pry Daryl’s attention away. Reluctantly, you turned around and made every effort not to show your present emotions on your face. In truth, you were nervous as fuck wondering what Daryl might do now that he knew you’d faked your climax.

You could try and make it up quick. Minimize the fallout.

The second Eugene departed, and it was just the two of you standing in the kitchen, you shamelessly reached for the outline of Daryl’s dick in his shorts.

Daryl swatted your hand away.

“My penis only goes where it’s appreciated,” he told you quietly, feigning that same stupid smile that signaled to everyone else who might pass by that things were fine.

They weren’t. Daryl probably hated your guts right now.

His seed was still dripping from your cunt, and you longed for the feeling of having him inside you, whole. But you got the sense that that wasn’t happening any time soon, as Daryl promptly greeted two more familiar faces and obliged you to mingle too. You faced Rosita and Abraham with a thinly veiled look of despair, and you gathered that the former picked up on it pretty fast.

“What’s up?” Rosita asked, pulling you to the side while Daryl and Abe chatted.

“I fucked up bad, like— legitimately screwed the pooch.”

“What did you do?”

You pursed your lips and felt the burn of Daryl’s glare over Rosita’s shoulder, sensing then that you’d probably be better off just keeping your mouth shut.

Hurriedly, you said under your breath,

“IfakedanorgasmandDaryl’sreallymad.”

“Daryl’s mad at what? Why?” Rosita said, shrill as ever.

You wanted to clamp your hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Daryl was quick to find your form lingering on his periphery and took your waist in one arm in a lasso-like motion. You guessed you’d be taken off to the slaughter any minute now—which was just getting chewed out by Daryl or given a half-dozen grumpy looks. You almost would’ve preferred the knife to the throat.

Confirming your worst fears, Daryl raised a beer with Abraham and suggested you all go for a swim.

That sounded like a setup if you’d ever heard one.

Perhaps overwrought with paranoia and a few too many Twisted Teas, you found your feet shuffling as slow as you could toward the thick sliding doors and Rosita at your rear asking what the hell was going on.

You made a big, fat ‘O’ with your hands and shook your head, hoping she’d understand—and Daryl wouldn’t see. It turned out neither of your wishes were to come true in that moment, and your boyfriend only pulled you closer to his side while the four of you strolled outside.

“Real mature,” he muttered.

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted.

“Could we please talk at a level most humans can hear?”

That last interjection was Eugene, sidling up to the group with his floaties already strapped to his biceps. You eyed the man, then his beer, then his bright red flotation devices, and hoped like hell Daryl wasn’t about to start playing drunk trivia now that your genius friend was plastered. Or worse yet, encourage him to swim.

“How many lies does the average woman tell in her life?”

You really needed to start keeping your hopes and dreams to yourself. You glared at Daryl.

Eugene was already devising some half-baked formula in his brain, or else retrieving another far-removed factoid that he’d learned on a game show in 2005, and presently answered Daryl’s question with a quirk of his brow.

“I…can’t say it’s a gender-dependent question, my friend. If I were to make an educated guess I’d give—”

“A million more for men,” Rosita interrupted, flashing a wry smile at Abraham, “Most men lie like they breathe.”

“Amen!” Carol called from the tiki bar. You loved and you hated Alexandria’s grown-up parties sometimes.

“Well maybe— maybe men lie more to get sex, but women lie about sex.” Daryl shot the most conspicuous look in your direction, and you’re fairly certain Rick and Michonne shared a look of, ‘Ah shit,’ simultaneously.

Inside, the two were secretly hoping they’d catch wind from the babysitter that Judith and RJ wanted to be picked up, or else learned that a horde of walkers had laid siege on one of the outer-facing walls, because they knew from experience that these fights never ended well. The last time you and Daryl ticked each other off in public there had come a very loud and very obnoxious karaoke rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Silver Springs’ sung drunkenly between the two of you, and frankly, no one at the party wanted to see a repeat of that.

You wrested your arm out of Daryl’s hold and took a seat opposite Carol at the bar. Nodding when she offered to pour you some tropical concoction with a lot of rum, then pretending not to see Sasha eye Daryl warily.

“Whiskey dick give him trouble?” she murmured to you.

“You say his brother’s name in bed?” Rosita quipped.

“First off, he’s dead,” you said, before dropping your voice to a whisper, “Second, it wasn’t the whiskey or anything, I just…couldn’t cum, so I faked it. That’s it!”

You figured if Daryl was airing out your dirty laundry for the whole group to hear, you might as well beat him to the punch when it came to your closest friends. You could tell Sasha was trying hard not to smirk.

“That’s…that’s it?” she reiterated.

“Just now,” you mumbled, “Don’t tell Rick and Michonne, but we were holed up in the bathroom an—”

“Anyway, okay, no details but you told a little lie, so what?” Sasha proceeded without a hitch.

Carol waved the margarita she was making in vehement agreement and handed it over to you. Telling you to drink, now, with her eyes as soon as she caught a glimpse of Daryl’s disgruntled expression across the way.

“Yeah, so what? You told a fib to keep his ego intact, what’s the harm?”

“I’m saying!” You pointed to her before taking a sip.

“I think honesty is the best policy,” Daryl declared out loud like he’d just discovered the Atlantic.

At his side, Eugene eyed him up and down as if to say, ‘What the fuck are we talking about?’ You surmised that probably only half the group understood what was going on between Daryl and you, but most got the gist that the two of you were beefing. Again. Carol proceeded to drain her piña colada like her life depended on it, and Abraham and Rick suddenly gained interest in something inside.

Daryl wasn’t backing down. In fact, he raised his voice.

“And if she’s willin’ ta lie once, who knows how many other times she—”

“Be fucking for real,” you rolled your eyes, “I wasn’t faking most other times, and you know it.”

“Most times? So ya did it other times?”

“Folks, I cannot say with utmost certainty that this is a healthy coping mechanism for a relationship like y—”

“Shut up, Eugene.”

You could tell just how incensed Daryl was by the color of his cheeks. In a world that almost never raised the hue above a baby pink, you were alarmed to see him turn a shade or two shy of crimson. You knew something lewd or unkind was likely to flare behind those cobalt eyes any second now.

“How many times for Spencer, then?” Daryl growled.

He knew that shit was off-limits. A happenstance situationship that started and ended long before you’d ever dated Daryl. Now he was just being mean.

“Alright, guys, how about we take a second to cool off?” Michonne was using the same voice she assumed whenever trying to talk Judith or RJ out of a cranky mood. You saw Daryl already had the insolent pout of the children down pat, that was for sure.

“Maybe if you’d asked Leah she would’ve said the same,” you spat.

Daryl abandoned his beer and moved closer to you, just narrowly checked by Sasha’s warning touch and even more persuasive gaze. He paused for a second, crinkled his nose, and seemed to be considering something a moment or two longer before finally deciding to be petty.

“At least I didn’t have to ask Leah to swallow.”

That was it. You reared back and chucked your bright pink strawberry marg directly at Daryl’s head, unleashing a string of unsavory names as you did so. Daryl easily side-stepped, and the next in line to receive the airborne drink was Eugene. Completely defenseless, per usual, and not at all prepared to be hit in the face by a plastic glass filled with syrup, liquor, and slush, the man was a sitting duck.

He shrieked the second it struck him below the eyebrow. His hand clamped over his eye, and he stumbled back a few steps.

“Eugene!” came more than one voice, including your own.

The mulleted man wailed and spun perilously on his heels, trying blindly to make a beeline for the house but ending up walking straight into the pool ahead of him. Your whole party jumped to their feet and scrambled after him.

Apart from the aid of his arm floaties, the man was completely unable to swim—and still blinking fiercely through a sheet of strawberry-flavored ice as he flailed about in the water and cried for help.

Sasha, Rosita, Michonne, and Daryl didn’t hesitate; all four dove head first into the pool to save their friend.

Two hours had passed, and you and Daryl were still in time-out—courtesy of Carol and Michonne.

Deprived of your right to drink, smoke, fight, or fuck (at least not with condoms), you and your boyfriend had been placed in indefinite non-solitary confinement sitting perched outside the hot tub with instructions to make up, or else. So far, no words had passed between the two of you, and it had just started to rain.

Daryl waved to the kitchen window, where Carol was watching you both with narrowed eyes.

“Can we come inside now?” he groaned, motioning to the storm clouds overhead.

Carol gave him one emphatic thumbs down and turned to stir her broth on the stove.

This was your group-imposed “getting along” punishment: stay outside until you make amends. You kicked your feet in the bubbling water and cursed yourself for ever thinking it was a wise idea to stroke a man’s ego and fake an orgasm in the first place.

Then you lowered yourself into the water, seeing as there was not much else to do.

“Ya tryna be human stew? Get out,” Daryl snapped.

“Great, maybe Carol can throw me in her soup and I won’t have to continue this stupid fucking conversation.” You knew the dangers of swimming in a rainstorm, but you didn’t want to give Daryl the satisfaction of knowing you’d stop for his sake. You sank deeper into the hot tub.

Daryl slid across the wet slab of rock and concrete and reached for your shoulder.

“Quit bein’ difficult.”

“Quit being pushy,” you said with an ineffectual splash in his direction. His fingertips still seared hot on your skin as he touched you just above the shoulder blade.

“Oh, was I also bein’ pushy—” Daryl cut himself short.

You looked up, curious. Still refusing to budge.

“Pushy when?”

“When you took your pretty ass outta this tub before you got struck by lightning.”

Daryl received an unamused scowl in return. When you pressed again, he bent down and took you underneath both armpits, hauling you out of the hot tub with infuriating ease.

“Or when I…wanted to have sex and you clearly didn’t.”

Ouch. You jumped back in the water with an even deeper frown.

“I still wanted to have sex, Daryl! I just couldn’t get off as quick as you.”

“So you lied.”

You hastened to the other side of the mini pool when Daryl climbed inside. Your back flattened on the rock, and your eyes shot him a critical look as if to say, ‘I ain’t coming out.’

“Technically, you never asked,” you shrugged.

Daryl scoffed and straightened his own posture on the opposite end of the hot tub, feigning amusement but likely inflamed with irritation inside.

“I touched— I rubbed your pussy to see if you were sensitive. Don’t that mean somethin’?”

“Means you didn’t ask me shit. I never said I came.” You folded your arms across your chest in defiance, but deep down, you knew that a lie by omission was still a lie. Daryl’s facial expression communicated as much as he swam in your direction.

“So you couldn’t…ask me to wait a little longer to help you finish?” Daryl approached you close enough to graze your knees, so you felt obliged to press yourself harder against the wall, “Ya know I’d eat the cum out yer pussy if I knew it’d get ya off, sweetheart.”

Indeed, you knew. You should’ve known better than to accuse him of selfishness or inadequate communication—Daryl was a generous lover, and one who was always willing to wait, whether that meant delaying his climax or putting a pause on sex altogether. You felt an unlikely shiver in the boiling hot water when your boyfriend’s frame slipped between your legs beneath the surface.

“Even if I’d finished first, ya know I’d lick ya clean and make that pretty pussy cum all over my face an’ fingers. Ya do know tha’, right?”

He wanted to hear you say it. His hands had just started to trail a slow course up your legs as you released a shaky breath and nodded your head.

“I know, baby, I just— I just like seeing how riled up and sweaty you get when you fuck me for a quickie. You always seem so…satisfied pulling out I just hate to make you get hard all over again on my account.” Your voice was quieter then, breaking off in the gentlest whimper when Daryl’s knuckles grazed your heat.

Then, with the other hand, he moved your fingers to feel how hard he was under his swim trunks.

“Thought ya knew me better’n tha’,” he tsked you softly as he rubbed your hand up and down the length of his clothed erection, “I’m always hard fer ya, honey.”

You swallowed and sighed the second you felt him throb in your hand underwater. You wanted him now.

When your fingers fumbled for the drawstring of his shorts, however, Daryl nudged your touch away. Brought his own to the bottom of the bright green bikini you were wearing and slipped a digit underneath the fabric.

“This poor little clit,” he lamented, circling just lightly enough to draw breathy mewls from your mouth.

You spread your legs even wider to allow him access. When he pulled you to his chest, you felt his heart thrumming as fast as yours was. The light drizzle of rain overhead was growing heavier by the second.

This was not the makeup session Carol or Michonne had envisioned when they’d sent the two of you off to talk. You and Daryl just happened to make amends a little differently than most—semi-publicly, sometimes.

“Can’t imagine how bad it’s been achin’ since I last fucked that pretty little hole,” Daryl continued, index and middle finger now rubbing lazy circles over the spot where he’d pried your bikini to the side.

You sat, spread eagle with your mouth ajar and your eyes on his. Oh, how he loved you like this: partly supine and looking so pathetic. His fingers worked even faster.

“Been needin’ daddy’s touch, has it?” he teased before moving his digits to your slick entrance. Then, pressing just a finger inside and feeling your walls instinctively contract, “Now tha’s a believable squeeze.”

He smiled and you realized he knew a real clench from a fake one by now. That dramatized show you’d put on for him earlier almost made you feel ashamed now, gathering just how good a proper fingerfucking felt when you actually gave your boyfriend the chance to try.

He pushed another finger inside and curled them both with expert precision. You let out a helpless moan the second he grazed your g-spot.

“Baby, I need it,” you whimpered, “I need to cum so, so badly.”

Daryl nodded as though feeling your pleasure—and pain. He worked a vicious rhythm against your cunt and let a smile spread across his lips the longer he watched you writhe and moan amidst the hot, churning waters. When your stomach started to flutter and your entrance gave a warning pulse, you didn’t even need to inform him of your impending climax; you closed your eyes and prepared for the sweet bliss in expectant silence.

That was, until, Daryl retracted his fingers and climbed out of the hot tub.

Sorely misled ecstasy withered before your eyes.

You whined. Louder than you meant to.

“Daryl!”

Your boyfriend had taken up a spot standing at the side of the hot tub, pretending to be so overcome with heat exhaustion that he just couldn’t stay in a second longer.

He wiped his brow and watched you smugly.

“You say sumn’, sugar?” he asked as he sat down on the water’s edge to plant a kiss at the top of your head.

“You’re sick,” you muttered, dodging any additional condescending smooches by scooting over. When Daryl slowly leaned down toward the water, you scowled.

Then he patted the wet slab of concrete beside him.

“Jus’ want you to cum on my tongue. C’mon.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world—clearly he couldn’t eat you out underwater, so he was just being kind to give you a place to sit while he tonguefucked you silly.

You pretended not to notice the smirk twisting at the corners of his lips as you climbed out of the hot tub and reluctantly followed his motions.

Your legs spread just a little, now perched at the edge of the sauna while Daryl sank back in the water and positioned his head perfectly with your core. A sidelong glance to the nearest window showed that Carol had disappeared from the kitchen, but you knew you would have to make this quick.

Without ceremony, you yanked a tuft of Daryl’s wet hair and guided his face even closer to your heat. Far past the point of pleasantries, you pulled your bathing suit to the side and presented yourself, bare as ever, to Daryl’s eager tongue and lips.

Your boyfriend supplied you with both in an instant, dragging his tongue up the whole length of your slit with a groan. Wanting to savor the taste, were it not for your quiet pleas for him to finish this, please, Carol could be back any minute.

Daryl lapped between your folds, happy as ever, and left a series of suctioned kisses on the spots where he knew you needed him most. Gripped your thighs in either hand, pulled your bottoms so far he almost snapped the fabric in half, and practically devoured that needy cunt.

The man was a pussy-eating prodigy, to put it mildly. He dove deep between your thighs like oxygen was the furthest thing from his mind and sucked on your clit as if it were a lifeline. Your back arched out of instinct, legs clamping on either side of his head and chest rising and falling in stuttered breaths. You moaned and felt Daryl’s own grunts join the reverberations shaking your body; for a second, you thought you were almost seeing stars.

When Daryl inserted two fingers and swirled his tongue around that sensitive nub, you were certain that moment was soon to come.

“Mmm, just like that, baby, fuck,” you breathed, rutting your hips ever slightly against his face. Daryl, soaked with your arousal and waves of scalding water, just held his place and kept licking over, and over, and over.

Your grip fastened harsher in his hair the second a pleasant coil pulled tight along your tummy. You planted your calves on either side of Daryl’s neck, braced your body to the concrete, and felt a heady bliss make its second appearance of the night.

A quiet slurp marked the sudden disconnect between Daryl’s mouth and your aching core. You almost fell off the edge of the hot tub as your mind and body both stopped devastatingly short of full climax. This time, you almost shrieked.

“DARYL!”

“Got a tongue cramp. Sorry.”

Too bad he was grinning from ear-to-ear with no trace of a muscle spasm anywhere on his face. You splashed him with a massive wave and went scrambling to your feet.

“Fuck this. I’ve got a vibrator at home.” You were already pulling your panties back in place, muttering some less-than kind words under your breath, and kicking yourself twice for ever believing Daryl was mature enough to treat this as anything other than a game.

“Hey! Baby, wait!” Daryl called after you. Then he was getting up and getting out too.

“You blame me for fucking around, and you— you go and pull some shit like this?!”

You waved a silent, dismissive hand when Daryl started after you, trailing hot on your heels with a look that almost would’ve seemed apologetic had he not been fighting a laugh the entire time.

When his hands landed on your shoulders from behind, you moved to shrug him off and told him, with a finger supplanting your words, to get fucked. You groaned internally when Daryl pulled you in for a tight embrace.

“It’s called edging, sweetheart,” he hummed in your ear.

“It’s called being an asshole and shutting my orgasms down on purpose.” You wriggled to free yourself from his arms but found the man behind you unwilling to cooperate; in fact, the more you struggled, the more snug his grasp got. You battled against his far superior strength no longer than a minute or two before Daryl plucked you right off your feet and into a bridal hold.

“What do we say when we really wanna cum?” he asked, almost patronizing. Then, as if to put a finer point on it, he ambled toward the edge of the pool and swayed your soft, soaking frame over it.

“You’re fucking crazy!” you hissed, still wrestling against his chest.

You sensed that might not have been the wisest choice of words given your current predicament, but Daryl didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“Did I hear a ‘please’ in there?” he asked, rocking you back and forth over the water’s edge.

“Please put me down.” Your voice was low and importunate, eyes warning him just the same.

“O-kay.”

And down you went. Into the pool. Your boyfriend still cradling you in his arms while you thrashed and splashed and called him every profane name in the book.

You’d just swept the wet mass of hair from your forehead when Daryl pinned you to the wall. Your back was flush to his chest, and his breath was hot on your ear.

“Promise y’ain’t gonna fake it this time?” Daryl murmured through gritted teeth, one hand yanking your swimsuit bottoms to the side and the other pulling his own down his hips.

You gripped the side of the pool and cast a quick look to the kitchen. Carol was nowhere in sight, but who knew how much longer she—and everyone else—would be gone? You bit your lip when Daryl dragged the head of his cock between your legs.

“We can’t do this, Dar—”

“I said, are you gonna fake it? Pretty simple question.”

Your folds had already parted with his length in between them, hole pleading for his entry when all he had done was rut his hips in place and tease your slit. You pressed your ass right into him and tried hard not to whine as you sensed your cover could be blown at any moment. Daryl nipped at the skin behind your ear and repeated his question, this time enveloping your frame with his when he bent you over the side of the pool.

Your eyes flickered to the warm glow of the kitchen, and you felt the rain come down even harder—your vision, with the distance and the downpour, was almost totally obscured.

Fuck it.

“Promise I won’t— I swear.” Your voice now scarcely above a whisper.

That seemed to satisfy Daryl well enough. No more than a second later, he was plowing inside you, gripping your hip for support and your hand in his own for what seemed to be encouragement of sorts. You squeezed his fingers back as soon as the first influx of pleasure rolled through you.

“Quiet, quiet for me, baby,” Daryl warned close to your ear, gaze scanning the house for any new onlookers, “Jus’ stay. fuckin’. quiet.”

He wasted no time railing you from behind—an impressive feat for a man standing halfway underwater—and simultaneously kept a lookout for your friends inside. Before him, you’d folded like a lawn chair over the wet concrete, yielding to each thrust like you were born for this position and made to take his cock. Then your walls clenched around him, whimpers came loud and fast, and the rain beat a shrill cadence all around.

Daryl dropped a hand to your clit and smiled the second you whined and almost bucked him off. Finally, that sweet sensitivity was back.

He knew from two false starts and more hard edging than you ever would have liked to endure, you wouldn’t last long. You felt a pressure on your neck bringing you up to his chest and those same, ardent lips almost charring your skin when they pressed above your ear:

“Who’s a good girl?”

Another sharp thrust in your cunt.

“I am,” you cried, clawing at his wrist the second his fingers started tightening around your throat. Almost unable to bear it, but loving it all the same.

“Gonna be honest with daddy ‘bout those orgasms?” Daryl chided, “Make a mess of daddy’s cock like yer s’posed’a?”

You nodded as best you could with your throat trapped in his hold and your lips damn near turning blue the second he got to kissing them. Your back arched into his chest, and your body convulsed with pleasure the deeper he went. Daryl loved the way you watched him as he did.

That was what he’d missed. That was what he knew you couldn’t muster in your piss-poor performances of late, what had tipped him off to the truth of your euphoric state with times like today. This was what he needed to see every time he fucked you from now on—if he had to spend a lifetime or two trying to get you there, so be it.

Daryl caught your lips in a long, heated kiss before bottoming out inside you. The sharp nudge to your insides and the brush against your most delicate spot was more than enough to push you over the edge.

Bliss broke through your body like a bat out of hell, and your moans rang loud in Daryl’s mouth as he fucked you through it. And, sadistic motherfucker that he was, he actually smiled when your teeth sank through his lip and drew blood from the surface.

All he cared was that you came, no bullshit this time.

As a metallic tang and an ecstatic trance washed over you, your body went limp in Daryl’s arms. He pulled out, still hard, and rubbed a hand over your ass underwater.

You could feel him beaming with pride right behind you.

But, just when he moved to turn you around, a sight in the bushes sent your heart in your throat. One dark patch of foliage shook with unusual force a few yards away, and you heard some sticks break as someone, shielded by leaves, appeared to lose their balance.

Daryl’s grip on you locked, then tightened, then dropped altogether when a clumsy form came tumbling out.

“EUGENE!”

Walker Bait

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Warnings: NSFW. Protected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Hatefucking, facefucking, and lots of dirty talk, leaning heavy on the “enemies” in the enemies-to-lovers trope. Mentions of a variety of sex toys and other filthy materials, including a blueberry-flavored condom and a walker wearing nipple clamps. 6.5k words.

“All ya gotta do is suck it.”

You were eye-level with the length of it now, all but staring down the barrel of the gun, so to speak. You wetted your lips, shifted uncomfortably on your knees. Then, almost reluctantly, you looked up at Daryl.

“What if it gets in my mouth?”

“It won’t.”

Daryl gripped the base of it with a sturdy hand and guided it closer to your mouth. You made a face as if to recoil, but Daryl was adamant. Insistent. One more false start and he’d probably just shove the thing down your throat. A man of many virtues he may have been, but patience was not among them.

“If I’d known you’d take this long I would’ve done it myself,” he scoffed.

You had just begun parting your lips to allow him entry, but on hearing this, you forced them shut, frowned, and opened them again just to retort:

“Why don’t you, then?! You wanna suck this shit so bad, be my guest.” You were already wobbling back onto your feet, wiping the dirt off your jeans and watching Daryl’s face turn even redder.

“‘Cause I’m teachin’ you, dipshit,” he snapped, “Can’t even tie yer fuckin’ shoes, but I figured ya maybe could siphon gas this once. My bad.”

And there it was: smug, shitstain Daryl ready to jump down your throat with another show of superiority. You couldn’t track, couldn’t forage, couldn’t hunt, couldn’t suck the gasoline out of a car or even put the hose in your mouth. You were useless in his eyes, and he was never shy to make sure you knew it. He looked you over once and hardly seemed to see you at all—just narrowed his eyes and flung the plastic tube in your direction.

Because Rick and all the rest of them were home, and you were here, scoping out the remnants of a seedy one stoplight town miles away, Daryl felt far more at liberty to act like a dick. He would’ve rather anyone been by his side but you, and he let you know as much, but somehow, in some sick and absurd twist of fate, you had been obliged to tag along. You sensed it was because you were the newest addition to Alexandria. And, quite frankly, because you sucked at every other task you’d been given, sucking gas out of cars was all that was left for you to do.

So easy a walker with a dislodged jaw could’ve done it. But you couldn’t. And Daryl despised you for it.

“Figure it out,” he muttered, turning on his heels to stalk off.

You weren’t sure if it was the irate glint in his eyes or the air of condescension in his tone, but you were floored. He’d made two, maybe three steps in the opposite direction when he felt something strike the black leather on his back. He turned again, dropped his gaze to the ground, and saw the plastic hose at his feet. When he looked back up, you were quick to trail behind, stomping past him without a second glance.

“Suck it yourself, asshole.” And you couldn’t help it; you gave him the finger over your shoulder.

You didn’t need eyes in the back of your head to see the rancid, sullen scowl plastered flat across Daryl’s face. Didn’t need ultrasonic hearing to catch him curse beneath his breath and kick something at his feet. You just kept walking in the other direction and hoped with everything you had he wouldn’t follow.

When you’d made it a ways down the street and Daryl hadn’t bothered to chase after you, you breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could raid the mini mart and loot canned foods to his heart’s content or prove himself useful in fifty other ways, and you could just explore.

From the looks of it, you were at the heart of this defunct podunk town and had virtually every amenity at your fingertips.

A barbershop on your right and a dive bar on your left, two boutiques with their windows all busted in, an unsightly patch of grass that once passed as a park, and one lone Texaco, almost treacherous in the light of day as it stood without a single car stationed at its pumps. “NO WAY OUT” emblazoned on a makeshift placard and half a dozen bodies littering the sidewalk before you.

Nothing quite like that small town Southern charm.

Against your better judgment, you went fishing in your back pocket for a few familiar friends to lift your spirits. First, the near-spent package of Virginia Slims, then the lighter, then your Walkman and headphones. An admittedly lethal combination for any would-be survivor of the apocalypse—limiting your hearing and crippling your lungs was no way to live in a world like this, Carol always warned before she snatched both culprits from your hands—but you didn’t care today. You were most of the way down the street and turning down a side avenue; if any walkers were in the vicinity, you figured you would’ve heard them moaning and groaning and dragging their boney asses behind you long before. By all appearances, you and Daryl were totally alone.

You thumbed one miniature flame into view and brought it close to the cigarette you had clamped between your teeth. Then you deposited the lighter back in your pocket, snapped your headset over your ears, and fiddled with the portable cassette player until the strains of some archaic Molly Hatchet tune went spiraling in your ears—“Bounty Hunter,” by the sounds of it.

You were walking at an easy pace now. Took a left off Main and strolled quietly onto Sheppard Street, careful to dodge every bottle, beer can, and rotting body you could. You took a drag and ogled some of the saddest storefronts you’d ever seen. Windows all blown to bits and insides looking like shit as every place appeared to be looted.

It wasn’t until you’d walked a little longer and made your way past the epicenter of the havoc that you saw any spot worth looking at. Where it seemed every other place for food, clothes, firearms, or frozen yogurt along this stretch of road was ransacked and dilapidated, you noticed one building that wasn’t.

In fact, it stopped you dead in your tracks and warranted a triple take to ensure you were seeing things properly the first time you saw it. Blinking with disbelief in the face of this scorching Georgia heat, came your first, unfathomable, ‘What the fuck?’

Juicy Peach Pleasure Shop—Take a bite inside!

There were some sick, twisted people in this world before the turn, that was for sure.

You made a beeline for the entrance.

Admittedly, you’d seen your fair share of funky ass sex shops in your day, but this one took the cake. All shuttered up and seemingly untouched since the world first went to shit—because who in their right mind was robbing a pocket pussy emporium in the midst of the apocalypse?—the store was in surprisingly pristine condition.

The inside was probably tiny and grimy and crawling with walkers—but it was also now your only hope to make yourself useful to the Alexandria community, you thought.

You quickly came to realize that this store would allow you to supply a truckload of sex toys and offer every adult back home the opportunity at a kinkier recreational outlet. With a stockpile of vibrators, ball gags, and anal beads alike, you could finally show them you were good for something. Maybe even worth keeping around, in spite of your subpar siphoning skills and the fact that you’d scared off nearly every animal Daryl attempted to hunt.

You’d be a Juicy Peach pioneer, and one that was likely to meet with tremendous success, if you could just…get the damn door open.

You gave the handle several violent shakes and thrust your body against the door, to no avail.

The sun’s rays were relentless on your back and already bringing a sheen of sweat to your skin, try as you might to keep your cool. You fooled around a few more seconds with the knob, found it hopelessly stuck in its position, and were about ready to abandon the task altogether when you felt the glass begin to give way. Instead of pushing the door, all you had to do was pull it open.

If you were around anyone else but yourself and the dead, you probably would’ve blushed. Would’ve taken a peek at your surroundings, perhaps lifted one half of your headset off your ears and tried to listen to see if anyone had heard. But no, you forged ahead, as careless and oblivious as you were engrossed in the present song’s guitar solo.

Should you have bothered to do either, you likely would’ve heard a set of feet sprinting in your direction and seen someone reaching for you in a hurry. Would’ve caught a glimpse of the stranger’s left hand before it clamped over your mouth or the right as it closed around your own on the door handle and yanked it back. The next thing you knew, you were being hauled inside and held tight against someone’s body, all but immobile in their grip and struggling to gasp for air.

Then a breath, hot on your ear as the person pulled you closer:

“Herd. Don’t move.”

You tensed in Daryl’s arms and watched the scene unfold before you. Just outside the store’s boarded windows, a super-sized group of geeks began to descend on the street where you’d just been standing. Seeing them shuffle, stumble, groan, and hiss their way down, you shuddered to think you hadn’t heard them at all—and would have been overrun in a minute if Daryl hadn’t intervened just then.

The man’s hand remained glued to your mouth, sensing you might shriek as you watched the horde grow in size.

Slowly, he backed you away from the door and started looking around.

“Daryl, I—” you began in a whisper, turning around to face him.

Before you could continue, a half-rotted corpse rose from the floor a few feet away and started toward you and Daryl. You fought your first inclination to scream, remembering your current predicament, and opted instead for a frantic, furious wave of your arm as you pointed behind Daryl.

The man leveled his crossbow in a blink and had a bolt lodged in the walker’s skull even faster. You watched the body crumple to the ground, just before another one of its companions came rounding the corner.

This time, Daryl slipped his dagger from the sheath on his belt and in a single, swift maneuver, drove the blade through the walker’s temple. You watched with widened, paralyzed eyes as this one, too, dropped fast to the floor. But when it did, you still couldn’t bring yourself to displace your gaze, for something bizarre had snagged your attention.

“What in the everliving fuck is tha’?” Daryl breathed, eyes stuck to the same sight as yours.

That rank, decayed biter had a pair of nipple clamps fastened to its chest.

Just as your mind raced to furnish the man with an answer, Daryl took a sweeping look around the place and scrunched his nose.

“Is this—”

“Daryl, I can explain—”

You watched the anger flare in his eyes as he turned.

“You got us trapped in a sex shop?” Daryl snarled.

Though neither of you were in a position to speak too far above a whisper with the walkers outside, it was painfully obvious that your partner was yearning to yell in your face. In an instant, he got within an inch of it and stood towering over you, seething between gritted teeth:

“Risked our lives for a fuckin’ vibrator?”

“How was I supposed to know?” you whispered back, gesturing wildly to the window behind you.

Daryl’s fingers curled into fists, and for a second it seemed like one was primed to strike the nearest surface, but he stopped. Unclenched his hands and simply glared down at you.

“Ain’t you a peach,” he muttered, low and slow, “Ain’t you a goddamn useless little peach, huh?”

He took off in the other direction, probably in search of a back exit.

You stood and silently scolded yourself for feeling even the slightest inkling of arousal at the last, sarcasm-soaked insult. What the hell was wrong with you?

You hung back another minute or so and weren’t surprised in the least when you heard Daryl groan out loud, coming to find the back door barricaded all the way to the ceiling.

“Sonovabitch!”

Taking one, apprehensive look out the window, you observed the herd hadn’t budged. They were moving and milling about, to be sure, but the bulk of them hadn’t wavered from the shop’s front stoop, leaving you and Daryl prisoners within these four walls.

You flinched when one of the walkers bumped its near-fleshless head against the glass. Silently, warily, you backed away and hoped it wouldn’t stray any further.

At length, none of them did.

Nearly an hour had passed before you could tear yourself away from the window, watching each doe-eyed, groaning monster outside like your life depended on it. Then Daryl came staggering back, all but drenched in sweat and slashed every which way down his arms. He’d been prying whatever stuff he could get from the exit, only to find that the door itself had been boarded up and jammed shut. The herd hadn’t stirred.

Daryl had barely been able to look at you when he demanded you start looking—for batteries, rope, whatever the hell you could find in this “depraved place.” You’d gone searching without another word, and the pair of you had been radio silent ever since. Combing over aisles of porn flicks and cock pumps and pretending like this wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing either of you had ever had to do.

When the opportunity to slip somewhere else first presented itself, you took it.

Toward the back of the store, you found a set of changing rooms. All cluttered with boxes and other junk but nevertheless a potential treasure trove for supplies. You eased your way in.

To your relief, there were only two half-rotted walkers making their rounds amongst the wreckage. You knifed them both and went calmly about your business.

And for awhile, it was just that—business. You were ecstatic to find two pairs of boxcutters, a dozen rolls of tape, and more rope than you knew what to do with. You had loaded your arms chock-full of finds, were just about to step outside to show Daryl, when a clothes rack caught your eye.

You turned your head and stopped to take in the sight.

On a single, flimsy hanger at the center of the shelf, there dangled a baby pink lace lingerie set.

You hadn’t seen anything that tantalizing, lithe, and sheer in a long, long time. You were practically drawn to it, feeling your feet shuffle clumsily in its direction and your arms drop every last item they held. Surely, then, you embodied everything a Victoria’s Secret salesman could’ve dreamed—so singularly focused on that stupid piece of clothing that you were literally stepping over dead bodies to get there.

If Daryl could see you then, he’d probably slap you upside the head.

“This ain’t a fashion show, sweetheart, we got the dead beatin’ down our front door!” You could almost hear him now.

Almost. Any hypothetical harangue from your supply run partner and every other pressing concern, it seemed, was lost on you now. All you knew was lace embroidery and plunging necklines, satin fabrics and fuck-me mesh open gussets.

You were clothed in the garment quicker than you could say, ‘Bad idea.’ You did a spin in the mirror.

A thousand dumb ideas danced before your mind’s eye as you placed your hands on your hips, moved your shoulders in sync, gave your ass a little shake. It was ridiculous, but you just hadn’t thought of yourself that way in so long; it was like you were staring at a brand new reflection. Years in a noxious, nightmarish world like the one you currently inhabited would do that. Turn a person into a bloodless stoic, so focused on the means of survival that they couldn’t even say a simple—

“What the fuck?!”

Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw Daryl’s form appear in the corner of the mirror. You quickly covered your tits and turned back to look at him.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Daryl, I—”

“You off yer fuckin’ rocker or sumn’?” Daryl spat, striding right over to you, “We got a whole pack of walkers champin’ at the bit to get us outside, and yer in here playin’ dress up?!”

Daryl clenched his jaw and shoved the clothes rack to the side, sending it tumbling over the two dead walkers with a crash. You hugged your arms to your chest even tighter.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, to try and apologize once more, Daryl shoved a thick, angry finger in your face.

“If you go and get yer dumbass devoured by a dildo-wielding geek, tha’s on you. I ain’t fuckin’ comin’ ta save ya no more.”

Damn if the man didn’t have a way with words, even when he was fuming out the ears.

You glanced down and immediately wished you hadn’t. Or had, sooner. Your blue-eyed nemesis was currently sporting the largest hard-on you thought you’d ever seen.

Daryl looked down too and seemed only to grow in his anger, if that were even possible, as it appeared he was infuriated at the sight below him. Enraged with his own erection.

You almost would’ve found this predicament amusing if you weren’t still afraid Daryl might throw you over his shoulder and feed you to the herd outside. Deciding to play it safe, you kept your mouth shut and stood with your hands clasped in front of you. Eyed the outline of his dick only once. Okay, maybe twice.

When your eyes traveled back up to his face in a nervous gaze, you found that Daryl was glaring at you. A hand hovered uncertainly above his belt buckle.

“Fuck it.” You heard him say under his breath before suddenly reaching for you.

Your whole body tensed in his calloused hands as he shoved you toward the door, gripping your wrists behind your back and thrusting you ahead.

You dug your heels into the floor, uselessly, trying to stop your vicious path past the changing rooms and into the store. Your eyes widened as you saw an even larger horde amassed beyond the front door, and for several, fleeting seconds you seriously thought that Daryl might throw you out there.

“Daryl, please,” you wailed, thrashing against him, “I didn’t mean it, I was being stupid—you don’t have to do this!”

At the center of the store, Daryl stopped. Spun you around shortly to face him.

“What?”

“Don’t feed me to the herd, please, I’m begging you.” Your stomach clenched with fear.

Daryl’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. If you weren’t so goddamn terrified, you would’ve detected that tiny change was in fact amusement.

“‘M not gon’ feed you to the walkers, girl,” he grunted, all matter-of-fact. Then, just as calmly, “‘M gonna fuck you over this counter.”

Oh.

It seemed your World War Z nightmare-fantasy had taken a pornographic turn. The meaning of his words hardly registered in your brain before he shuttled you off to the cashier’s counter at the front of the store. Before you knew it, you were lying flat on a cold, glass surface and staring straight out into a sea of undead faces a few yards ahead. You swallowed.

You flinched with another grating sensation, this time at your wrists.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Daryl binding your hands together behind your back. Where he had obtained the black BDSM rope in the time it had taken him to bring you here was beyond you.

“Not to be a Debbie Downer here or anything, but isn’t this...kind of…dangerous?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the walkers outside the window.

“Don’t care.” Daryl pulled the rope even tighter.

“But they can hear us if they’re right outside.”

From your vantage point, it seemed Daryl was ready to yank your hair and pound you senseless. Instead, he smiled. Gave your ass a light pat.

“Then you’d be wise to keep tha’ pretty mouth of yours shut while I’m fuckin’ ya, sunshine.”

Daryl pressed one quick kiss on your shoulder before bounding off in the other direction. You shimmied helplessly against your restraints as you tried to flip yourself over.

“You’re sick, Dixon. You’re a sick son of a bitch, I hope you know that,” you whisper-shouted after him. You doubt he heard you but had a sneaking suspicion he’d already seen the soaked-through spot between your legs to disprove it even if he had. You pressed your head to the counter and cursed your primal instincts for turning your lower half into an uncomely mess every time a man twice your age said something mean to you.

You would’ve liked to have leaned back—or, rather, forward—and said a big ‘fuck you’ to Molly Hatchet as well for getting you into this bind in the first place, were it not for the sound of Daryl’s footsteps returning.

“Listen, I learned my lesson, Dar. If you could just untie me, we would be a lot better off figuring out a way to escape this place than—”

You yelped as something smacked your ass. It wasn’t Daryl’s hand.

“Ouch!” You strained against the rope once more, only succeeding in wiggling your ass before Daryl’s pleasantly occupied eyes.

“C’mon now, it ain’t tha’ bad, honey. Stuff’s meant to feel good,” he chided. Another strike on your ass check punctuated his words.

He was right; it didn’t really hurt. Just felt strange, all bent over and exposed before him like that. You glanced back and saw the crop in his hands, the smug look on his face, and for a second, you did feel a twinge of pleasure as you imagined him doing much more.

You whimpered when he spanked you again—this time, with the flattened palm of his hand.

“Better?” Daryl quipped, grinning.

The second you nodded your head, you heard the sound of the crop clatter to the floor behind you. Daryl swiftly took your ass in both hands and started kneading the skin. Really digging his fingers into the flesh and sending shockwaves trembling all through your body.

“Rick’s the only reason yer here, y’know,” Daryl said behind you. You yelped when he smacked your ass again, and you curled your toes into the linoleum below.

The man rubbed the spot as soon as he’d struck it, palming your skin like it was the softest, smoothest thing he’d ever felt.

“Thinks you’d be an asset.” Another slap on your rear.

“I told him he don’t know wha’ the fuck he’s talkin’ ‘bout. Said you were ‘bout as useful as a one-legged man in an ass-kickin’ contest.”

You fought back a chuckle. That was pretty good.

And when he spanked your ass another time, the sting didn’t hurt as much. You propped your chin on the surface beneath you, pursed your lips, and actually suppressed the threat of a moan.

“I said ya were a liability,” Daryl continued, “Didn’t know no fuckin’ manners neither.”

At that, you were tempted to speak, almost wanting to defend yourself against his baseless accusations. But Daryl stopped that from happening, as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and arched your back up to meet his face, half-standing.

“I think ya need me ta teach ya some manners, how ‘bout tha’?” he growled in your ear.

If the warmth pooling between your legs couldn’t answer for you, you decided words would have to do. You nodded and said, “Uh-huh.”

Daryl threw you back onto the counter and gave your ass another brutal smack.

“‘Uh-huh’ don’t sound too polite to me, sugar,” he said sharply, cruelly. He didn’t soothe your backside with the pulse of his fingers and stood back from you instead.

“Yes...y-yes sir,” you stammered out, legs trembling underneath you.

Your feet were slightly raised, all but standing on tip-toes to keep your body propped up against the counter, and you were suddenly aware that your cunt was plainly exposed. The open gusset in your lacy attire seemed to have spread even further, swelling with the size of your now-engorged folds and probably displaying yourself to Daryl in all the worst ways.

The man groaned behind you.

You sensed some fabric shuffle, the clink of a belt come undone, and finally a tongue—pressed flat against you and licking a stripe up your oozing heat.

You shuddered forward on the tabletop and let out a lewd-sounding squeal. Your eyes widened at the sight ahead of you as you swore you could’ve seen a walker turn their rotted head in your direction outside. Daryl clamped a hand over your mouth.

“Now tha’s— what we’re not gonna do,” he whispered through gritted teeth, “We’re not gonna make one fuckin’ sound so the geeks out there can stay right where they are. Ya hear me?”

Daryl’s hand moved to your throat and pinched it in a vicious grip when you didn’t answer him.

“Ya hear me?”

You managed one strangled ‘Yes sir’ and left your lips parted as Daryl placed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on them. He stepped back again.

You heard some other quiet stirrings behind you as Daryl fiddled with something above your back. Frankly, you were already too lust-struck and cum-hungry to care, breathing out in soft, gentle puffs of air as you tried to rein in your reeling mind. You watched the walkers for a minute, tried to ground yourself in the unsavory reality all around you—the precarious position you were currently standing in, as one stray stumble of one of those undead shitheads might veritably mean the end of you and Daryl’s lives as you knew it—and you sighed. Scanned your eyes across the sea of wretched, fleshy heads and wanted to hurl.

At present, Daryl stroked your lower back with the tips of his fingers.

“Y’know, it’s been real tough ta find anything useful here,” he mused aloud, running his touch over your skin and sending a flurry of goosebumps in its path, “Ain’t nothin’ worth keepin’ here, really—‘cept maybe some dirty magazines.”

You internally rolled your eyes. Good for you, Daryl.

Then he lifted his hand and dragged it down a little further, causing you to clench your legs and snag your bottom lip between your teeth.

“But I got curious, see…” Daryl’s forefinger followed the contour of your ass and slid down between your cheeks, traveling lazily ‘til he reached your aching core. He sank that same finger deep between your folds and circled around in your heat, eliciting a strained whimper above as he gathered your juices.

“Daryl—” you whined.

“Don’t interrupt,” Daryl growled, slapping your pussy.

You winced and let out the smallest of moans. Daryl smirked.

“I found some stuff,” he resumed, “Might actually make this little trip worthwhile.”

You panted in your current position, hardly hearing a word he said.

When he lifted something else to your heat, you did quickly sense that his wasn’t any part of his hand, or even his cock. You squirmed in place but didn’t speak.

“Found batteries,” Daryl declared, as though it were the grandest discovery he’d ever made.

“Ya know what batteries are good for, darlin’?” You could almost hear the grin in his voice.

Before you could answer, you felt a fierce pulse at your center. A tremor, a throb, an artificial oscillation.

A vibration.

You moaned.

Daryl twirled the tip of a pink vibrator against your clit and pressed.

So overcome with that raw, potent jolt, you couldn’t help it when you cried, “Fuck, Daryl!”

Daryl didn’t cover your mouth, but he did withdraw the device from your slit for a moment, just to whisper in your ear to shut. the fuck. up. The two of you ogled the swarm of walkers once more and stood in muted suspense. Waiting for one to turn toward the glass.

Not a single set of eyes drifted in your direction.

Bent over you with a buzzing vibrator at your core, Daryl couldn’t deny the rush was...addictive. He pushed the thing a little deeper and smiled when you stifled a moan.

“Ya might’ve been right comin’ all the way out here after all,” Daryl teased, “This shit’s way more fun than suckin’ gas, don’t ya think?”

You buried your face in the glass and wanted to scream when Daryl’s fingers started sliding in and out of your hole.

You were being so good, not making a sound, eyes all but welled up with tears at the pleasure that was coursing through your body. Daryl rubbed your back with his other hand and seemed to be treating you a little gentler now.

“Aw, tha’s my girl,” he said, words ripe with condescension. He traced his palm up the length of your spine and kept fingering you quietly. You barely even noticed that the vibrator was designed to hook inside you, still punishing your clit as it quivered away at the sensitive spot within your walls.

“Who woulda thought all it would take ta shake that disobedience away was a couple’a fingers in yer cunt and a stupid little toy.”

You were far too close to your release to give a shit about his patronizing speech; you bucked your hips against his hand, his front, and gritted your teeth as a tender bubble of pleasure grew deep within your belly. Then, to your surprise, you felt Daryl clasp your fingers while they were still knotted with rope behind you and squeezed them.

“Tha’s a good girl. Cum all over me, make tha’ pussy feel nice f’me, c’mon.”

You followed his command in short order and released all over his hand, humping his fingers and humming through a muffled shriek as you came.

Daryl beamed with pride and hardly had it in him to look away, notwithstanding the growing throng of walkers close ahead of you. He uncurled his fingers, slid them out, and took a nice, long taste of his hand while he watched you writhe underneath him.

“Take it out!” you hissed, thrashing against the vibrator still buzzing within you, “Take it out, take it out, take it out!”

In truth, you’d never felt so fucking good in your life. You surprised yourself when you stood there another couple seconds and came again, clenching repeatedly over the tiny pink toy and groaning into the condensation-dampened glass.

“FUCK!” you screamed, this time with no hint of restraint.

Daryl’s eyes bulged out of his head, and he yanked the thing out of you. Gaze darting to the window in a petrified look.

One walker paused in place and craned its neck with the slowest of motions. It stared blankly at the window before it but didn’t move. Daryl saw its mouth open and close, wheezing something violent, and stared another few seconds before shuffling back to its previous path. Daryl closed his eyes.

“What did I say about—” he started to whisper down to you, but you cut him short,

“We need a safe word or something, Daryl. This is too fuckin’ risky.”

You were right about that. Daryl straightened up and tucked the vibrator in his pocket, before wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Yeah? How ‘bout ‘Walker Bait’?” he muttered, rubbing his face.

Then he was fumbling with the rope around your wrists and loosening it up. His heart was still thudding in his chest, scared half to death with the narrow miss you’d just had, though he didn’t want you to see it. He turned around as soon as you’d gotten free.

“Fine by me,” you grumbled back.

You watched Daryl disappear down a random aisle and felt obliged to cross your arms over your chest, pivoting back to the walkers with a wary gaze.

And, just when you started to wander back into the recesses of your mind, watching the swarm grow thicker and thicker and starting to doubt you’d ever escape this nightmare, you felt Daryl’s hands on you again. Squeezing your hips and turning you to face him.

“Jump,” he ordered.

You did as he said and locked your legs around his waist, welcomed by the familiar feeling of the counter behind you as Daryl pressed your bodies into it. He half-braced you against it, half-held you in his arms as he fingered something small and delicate beneath you.

Your smile widened at the sight of a condom wrapper being torn in two, and grew even bigger when you caught a glimpse of the rubber itself.

It was bright blue and littered with ridges. You laughed.

“The hell is that, Dixon?” you asked, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle your amusement.

Daryl gingerly dragged the cobalt-colored condom over his length and made a face.

“Ain’t a single damn rubber here for normal people,” he grunted, “This one’s fuckin’ blueberry flavored.”

At the last, neither of you could contain your laughter as you both stared down at the bizarre blue condom stretching over Daryl’s cock. You scooted forward just a little.

“Never a dull moment with you, is there, Dar?” you said as you pushed his chest lightly. Telling him to step back so you could hop down and sink to the floor in front of him.

Daryl sucked in a breath as you took his shaft in your hands. He slapped a hand on the countertop and squeezed when your tongue darted past your lips.

Surely he couldn’t get a fruit-flavored condom and not expect you to give it a taste.

With the base of his cock between your fingers, you licked a long, wide line up his dick and moaned.

“Doesn’t taste much like blueberries,” you hummed, feigning disappointment as you gazed up at Daryl. He gripped the counter even harder and gritted his teeth to suppress a groan.

Regardless of the unsavory artificial flavor, you took the head of his cock between your lips and sucked. Bobbed your head up and down over his length as though trying to get a real mouthful of those so-called berry juices. You found yourself sorely dissatisfied with the taste but more than compensated for this loss in the form of Daryl’s throaty moans above you. It seemed he was letting loose on the restraints to keep quiet and finally gripping your hair, rutting into your mouth.

“Ah, honey, tha’s’it. Tha’s a good little slut,” he panted as he pushed you further down on his cock.

You tried not to gag when he grazed the back of your throat but couldn’t control the reflex. Daryl groaned even louder above you.

In a second, you were plucked off his bright blue boner and taken back into his arms, then shoved on the surface behind you.

“I ain’ fuckin’ waitin’ no more. Ya done achin’ for daddy’s cock?”

You nodded that you were. You readily accepted Daryl’s lips on your own and his tongue pushed deep in your mouth as he showered you with a string of sloppy kisses. Shifted you in his arms almost viciously, frantically, before bringing you down on his cock.

The second you were fully impaled on him, the two of you groaned. You bucked your hips and he rutted his, bouncing you up and down again and again with no time at all to adjust to his size.

All that could be heard in the deserted store was the sounds of your skin slapping against one another, punctuated every now and then with strangled moans and stifled whimpers. You steadied your hands on either one of his shoulders and stared, deeply, in Daryl’s half-hooded eyes. He panted out a breathy sigh as you clenched around him.

“Tha’s right, girl, fuckin’ take it. Take this fuckin’ cock like it’s yours,” he growled.

“It is mine, Daryl,” you bit back, grinding even harder, “Tell me it’s mine.”

Daryl’s jaw seemed to slacken just a bit, evidently aroused by the sound of you talking so dirty to him. In a blink, he was digging his nails in your sides and saying,

“It’s yours, baby. All fuckin’ yours.”

If someone had told you at the start of the day that this was how your dreaded supply run with Daryl would go, you wouldn’t have believed them. As your once-despised partner drilled you even deeper and caught your lips in a frenzied kiss, you still almost couldn’t comprehend it now. You bounced, and you writhed, and you rolled your desperate hips against him, but how in the fuck did this happen?

The moment Daryl dropped his thumb to your clit, you decided you didn’t care.

Your walls hugged him even tighter as he drew loose circles all over your swollen nub, and your head fell back. Daryl held you even tighter.

“Gonna cum again f’me? Gonna cum all over this cock?” he goaded you as your heels dug deep in his lower back.

All you could do was nod again—bring your lazy, fucked-out gaze back to Daryl and murmur in what hardly felt like words to you at all:

“Y-yes, daddy, yes.”

Daryl smiled at the sound of that word on your lips and thrusted his hips even harder, fucking you fast to build the friction on your sensitive, trembling walls.

That, paired with the flick of his thumb on your clit and the narrowing eyes holding you tight to his gaze—wordlessly coaxing you to cum for him now, make daddy proud—sent your senses spiraling into ecstasy. You released all over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and gripped him harder than you ever had before.

Before another scream could escape your lips, Daryl yanked you closer for a kiss and attempted to swallow every sound as his own orgasm surged inside him. You felt the man move both hands to your sides, seize them, and all but crush the bones beneath his fingers as he fucked you hard against the counter. He shot his load in the condom and groaned against your mouth.

Two former enemies, fucked out like a couple of crazed fools, stayed glued in place and blinked back at one other like you hardly understood what had just happened. Grinning nonetheless.

As Daryl leaned in for one last kiss, the pair of you froze—something rapped against the window.

The two of you turned and almost swore you could’ve felt your stomachs fall to the floor.

The herd of walkers outside, seemingly doubled in size, now stood at full attention at the storefront. Every undead, rotted head turned straight to face you.

They looked real fucking hungry.

ʚɞ𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝ʚɞ

-`♡´-𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐛𝐫𝐨! 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-`♡´-

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Something I thought about and my sleep, waking immediately to write. 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠.

DISCLAIMER:*𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩!*

Summary: Carl wishes he could put he seed inside you so bad.

WARNINGS: panty stealing, Carl being pervy.

Words: 42

Stepbro! Carl, who steals your dirty panties and wraps them around his hardened cock, dragging them along his while you shower. Just to throw them back into your hamper covered in his cum, he so badly wishes he could put inside you.

Taglist: @carlsdarling

Daryl gets flustered seeing y/n thong when she bends over and needs her now. Established relationship, jealousy, mostly gentle but sub reader, extra points for ass man Daryl. <3

Can you grab this for me?

A/N: love this idea❤️ thanks for requesting, love writing for you all!

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, yeah yeah yeah 18+

“Daryl!” You yell out, your voice echoing through the empty abandoned house.

You waited, arms reaching, standing on your tippy toes trying to reach a can of food in the cabinet of the house you and Daryl were searching. The counter was filled with trash and covered in dust leaving no room for you to be able to jump onto the counter in your usual manner in times like this.

“Daryl!” You call out once more, irritation lacing your tone this time.

You hear a thump from the upstairs before he comes flying down the steps to your rescue, fear suddenly coursing through him. He stops abruptly, watching you try to jump up to reach something in the cabniet, just hoping your finger tips would be able to touch it.

He couldn’t help but notice everytime you jumped your shirt rose up slightly, revealing the straps of a red thong, siting just above the hem of your jeans on your hips, his face instantly curling up into a smirk, your head snaps back to his, you were frustrated, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to help me grab this?” You snap, wondering why a shit eating grin was covering his face.

Daryl snorts at your attitude. Suddenly feeling the blood from his cheeks rush to his lap at the thought of you bent over that counter in that very sexy red thong.

“Oh, I’ll help ya grab somethin’.” He smirks, slapping your ass and giving it a slight squeeze emitting a small yelp out of you.

“Daryl!” You swat at him.

He effortlessly reaches up grabbing the can, handing it to you. Your cheeks red at his actions. You mumble a small thank you suddenly feeling shy as you lean down, pulling your bag from beside the counter and putting the food in it.

Once again, in Daryls favor you flash him with your thong once more.

“How many times ya gonna flash me with these?” He asks, his fingers catching the string of them and letting it snap back against your skin. “You been wearin’ these all day?”

You try to stand up but his hands instantly push your back down, leaving you bent over in front of him. Your breathing hitches when a pair of warm hands catches your hips, touching the exposed skin from your shirt raising up.

“Y-yes.” You stutter suddenly feeling stupid, you didn’t even realize that you have most likely been flashing people all day,

The jealously was surging over Daryl. He kept thinking about everytime you bent over who was looking at you and who saw what was only his to see? The thought made him want to go home and beat every man at Alexandria bloody.

“M’ the only one who gets ta see this.” He rubs his hands down to your ass, smacking it again. “Ain’t that right?”

“Yes, Daryl.” You breathe. “All yours.”

Daryl knew exactly how to get you to fall apart in his hands, sometimes with a single touch. It was one of things you hated most about your relationship with him, how at anytime, anywhere, you were ready for him.

His fingertips softly ghosting your skin, he runs them over your sides to your stomach, unbuttoning your jeans.

“Daryl,” you stop him, grabbing his wrist. “What if someone sees? Rick and Michonne-“

“Don’t care.” He says unphased. “Need ya, so bad.”

You slowly let go of him with shaky hands, you shiver against his touch, revealing in it. Your eyes close as his hand dips into your jeans, his finger tips running up and down the already wet thinned cloth of your thong.

“Shit, Y/N.” He grunts. “Yer already so wet and I ain’t even done nothing to ya.”

You blush. “Always ready for you, Dar.”

You could feel his erection against your ass making you more needy. You try to wiggle onto to him but his hand stops you smacking you harshly, you whimper.

“Needy little slut ain’t ya?” He chuckles.

“I need you, please.” You pant.

Oh, he needed you more. He thought. Your clit was now throbbing, you were basically dripping, you knew by now your panties were drenched. You were aching for him in every way.

His finger dips inside your thongs, you gasp as his finger tip runs up and down your wet slit, easily moving. He’s teases your enterance making you groan in frustration.

“Don’t be a tease.” You breathe, voice hoarse and needy.

“Oh like how you been today?”

Your head falls in pleasure as he gives in, easing one thick finger inside you, stretching you out. He continuously hits your sweet spot deep inside you. Your hips buck back to him, causing him to add another finger, you moan. Your thighs start to shake as your body starts reaching your climax, not being able to hold yourself up much longer.

“Daryl, I-I’m-“ you moan, your walls convulsing around him. “Gonna cum.”

Daryl smirks, suddenly his hand come out of your pants, fingers covered in your arousal. You clench around nothing, still throbbing. Aggravation floods your body. Your body turns to face him quickly, pushing his shoulders back, he doesn’t even budge.

“What the fuck was that for?” You snap.

“Not coming unless it’s on my cock, pretty thing.” He says, pulling you back into him. “Only I can take care of ya pretty little pussy, remember that.”

Your anger fades away as his lips attack your neck, softy and gently. You quickly break the kiss to yank your pants off, he unbottons his quickly. His hands go underneath your thighs signaling you to jump which you do, he catches you with ease, backing you up against the closest wall.

Your throw your arms around his neck as he kisses your neck again, he grabs his erection putting it against your soaking wet entrance, his tip rubbing up and down your slit, you whimper, your grasp tightening on him.

“Ready?” He whispers and you nod.

He flexes his hips, his erection sliding into you, filling you up. He grunts as he bottoms out, you gasp, enjoying the feeling of him stretching you out as pleasure shoots across your body.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his rythym speeding up. “Miss ya tight little pussy so much.”

“Ah,” you moan, burying your face into his warm neck.

His hips continue to rock into you, pushing you harder up against the wall. The wet sounds filling the air. He felt amazing in you causing you to throw your head back against the wall.

“Dar,” you whimper. “You feel so g-good.”

“Yeah baby?” He says through clenched teeth.

Your legs wrap around him tighter, you could’ve sworn you felt him in your belly. His breathing labored, you clench around him, pulsing. Your hands twist in his hair causing him to groan in pleasure. You snap, your climax coating him as he releases inside you.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, breathing heavily into your neck. “Fucking hell.”

“That was,” you start, your breathing matching his. “That was amazing.”

He pulls out, leaving you empty, missing the feel of him. He sets you down and your legs wobble a bit and he catches you quickly, steadying you. You giggle as you hold onto his wrists.

“Can ya walk?” He grins, full of pride.

“What can I say, Dixon? It’s all your fault.” You smile.

You slip your pants back on, along with your thong, feeling the sweet stickiness from his climax dripping out of you, you groan, the sticky feeling between your thighs being too much.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re dripping out of me, literally.”

He laughs pulling you into him, sweetly kissing your lips and tapping your butt before releasing you.

“What can I say? It’s all your fault.”

Daryl finds you hurt and alone

You kept your leg pressed against the door as the walker pounded on it. Your hand was pressed firmly against your shoulder. The blood was seeping through the shirt you had pressed against it staining it deep red. The door opened a little and you threw yourself against the door closing it again.

You should have stayed running. You should have stayed going you might have found a way out, or even a door with a damn lock. A door with a lock would have been amazing right now. But here you were, stuck in a janitors closet bleeding out, with no lock. It was the bleeding out thing that made you stop, you couldn’t stay going.

You were so tired, your body was sore and every now and then your vision would spin for a second or two.  So here you were stuck in a bloody broom closet four walkers outside the door and you with no way to kill them. You weren’t sure waiting them out would do, you weren’t sure you really had that in you.

You closed your eyes and sighed. ‘I’m sorry’ You whispered to the air. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do this, I promised but I couldn’t do it’ The idiot you had been on a run with had started shooting up the place bringing walkers from every nook and cranny. There had been too much, you had exhausted your supply of weapons. 

Now you would end up walker chow.

You jumped as there was a thud outside the door. Then another. And another. You felt the pressure on the door begin to lessen. Then a fourth thud. And the groans were gone. Silence outside the door. There was someone there.

You pushed yourself off the ground. The world span and you stumbled falling against the wall. When everything went back to its rightful place you reached out opening the door.

It swung open and you were met by a pile of dean walkers. Each with an arrow through their head. You looked up. Your eyes landed on the most perfect man alive, at least at this moment.

Daryl Dixon.

You let a weary smile spread across your face. Daryl began to lower the bow he was holding against his shoulder. ‘Daryl’ You breathed putting your hand out leaning against the doorway. ‘Y/n, hell happened?’ He started forwards. You just smiled at him again before the world went dark

The bright light that was hanging above you forced you to keep them closed. You tried to roll over but you were constricted. Pain flared through your shoulder and you groaned. You tried to move you hand to cover you eyes from the light. A rope bit into your wrist. ‘Y/n?’ You had never heard so much fear in someone voice. ‘Say anytin, lemme know yer alri’ You wanted to talk but when you opened your mouth all that came out was a groan.

Your throat was dry and you couldn’t talk. You turned your head to the side to open your eyes but the glare off the light was still to harsh. You tugged on the ropes harder wiggling your hand to see if they’d come off. ‘I’m sorry’ You heard a whisper. ‘D-d’ You growled and you felt something press against your temple. A gun.

You began to struggle more. Pain flared through your shoulder but you were only concentrating on one thing, talking. You tried to croak out his name. ‘I shoulda got there sooner’ You hear the click of it being loaded. ‘M-me’ You groaned. ‘Da-daryl’ You felt the gun press harder into your temple.

And then it disappeared. ‘Y/n’ His voice was closer and you felt the bed you were lying on dip. ‘Say sometin else’ You cracked open an eye to see him leaning close. You felt a hand on your face as he brushed the hair off your face. ‘S’me’ You grunted. ‘Li-li-’ You nodded towards the bright light. 

His hand disappeared. ‘Hershel’ He called as the light clicked off. With the new darkness of the cell you were able to open your eyes. You were met with the sight of Daryl frantically untieing your hands. ‘We had te do it, just incase’ He glanced up at you. You nodded ‘Ah, nice to see you awake’ You looked to the door of your cell.

You tried to push yourself up but Daryl pushed you back down. ‘Not until you get the all clear’ He grumbled giving you a small rare smile. ‘Daryl, grab me some water?’ Hershel patted his shoulder. Daryl looked up at him shrinking from his touch. He nodded giving your hand a quick squeeze before leaving the cell.

Hershel looked back down at you. ‘You’ve been out about three days’ He nodded to the drip coming from your arm. ‘He’s been sitting in here everyday, as much as he can. Only left twice to grab some things for you and come back’ He told you as he checked you over. He furrowed those bushy white brows when he seen your shoulder. ‘You took a turn for the worst yesterday’ He leaned away from you. Then he was back with a needle and thread.

Daryl walked back in just as he was finishing stitching you wound again. ‘Blow a stitch?’ He asked with a flask of water in his hand. ‘Seems like it’ Hershel nodded to you. ‘She’ll need the water’ Daryl dropped to his knees beside you. ‘Take it easy for a week or two’ Hershel told you as Daryl helped you sit up. ‘Bedrest for at least two days’ You took the flask from Daryl and began to drink deeply.

You let out a long sigh licking you dry lips. ‘Thanks’ You croaked. Hershel was gone, he must have left when you were drinking the water. ‘Least I could do’ Daryl stood and sat on the edge of the bed facing you. ‘For what? You got me outs there, few seconds more and I wouldn’t be here’ You smiled up at him. He shrugged. ‘Few seconds earlier ye wouldn’t have been in there, That-’ He nodded towards your shoulder. ‘-wouldn’t have happened’  You shrugged with your good shoulder.

You leaned forwards and pressed your lips to his cheek. ‘Was perfect timing Daryl’ You whispered in his ear pressing another kiss to his cheek after your words. He gave you a shy smile when you pulled away. ‘Hershel said you stood guard’ He looked away . ‘And don’t give me the whole it was for the safety of the group thing’ You watched him shift.

He sighed and turned to you. ‘It had te be me, I had te put you down. I couldn’t let anyone else’ You nodded understanding. You had been with Daryl the longest, if it was anyone you would have wanted it to be him. ‘Thank you’ You took another gulp of water. ‘Thought I lost ye’ He looked away from you not wanting to show the vulnerability.

You reached out taking his hand in yours. ‘I ain’t dying Daryl, you ain’t that lucky’ He looked down at your hands as you chuckled at your joke. ‘Hope I never am’ He looked up at you. He reached his other hand out and wrapped it around the back of your neck.

He leaned forwards and pressed his lips to yours. It was a quick chaste kiss and he pulled away. He watched you a cautious look on his face. You let a small giggle fall from your lips. ‘If almost dying only got me that I don’t want to know what I have to do for a longer one’ Daryl smirked and leaned in again.

This time the kiss was longer and he held you tighter. You smiled when he pulled away. ‘Ye lost a lot eh blood, sleep’ He leaned up and pressed a kiss to your forehead his lips lingering on your skin. You nodded and he helped you to lie back down.

You turned over onto your good side. Daryl pushed your hair off your face and kissed your temple, the one he had pressed his gun to earlier. ‘Thank you’ You smiled at him. He nodded before sitting back down onto the floor on the other side of the cell.

He shot you one last smile before you closed your eyes very thankful Daryl had found you just in time.

death era, part one. bellamy blake x fem!oc

summary 📣: with a cross over of the 100 x the walking dead, a group of young adults find themselves amongst a zombie apocalypse

warnings 🚫: violence, swearing, and...

slater’s note 🗯: i just decided to pull the trigger and post this because i’ve been wanting to for awhile (and for my followers/cobra kai fans, i’ll be posting requests soon)

nights like these made athena glad she’s alive. those nights are rare, but they were real and they happened, but only for a little while. 

the wind rustles through her hair while the pitch dark night sky had a tint of navy blue in it. the stars were bright and she just let it all seep into her skin. eyes closed, head tilted back, while her lips were pressed in a relaxed line, breathing in and out with relief.

the fire makes sounds like small twigs breaking beneath the pressure of ones foot, it’s almost too loud, too bright, but it created heat and athena needed heat if she was going to get through the night, at least while she was conscious.

athena exhales, lowering her eyes back to the small fire inked out in orange and yellow, so pretty but so dangerous. it could take out the whole forest if it wasn’t tamed. 

everything was so pretty and peaceful in that moment, but like she knew, those moments were rare and barely happened, so when she heard the real break of a branch, not the fire, she was ready and not surprised that the peaceful moment came down shattering, like broken glass.

she had the gun pointed at a man who was quick to throw up his hands in surrender, but his legs continued to move, slowly, and steadily. 

“stop moving.”

“calm down, little girl, i’m just here for the heat.”

“the heat isn’t to share so stop fucking moving,” she wasn’t scared, people like him didn't scare her. the kind of people who traveled alone and put up the defense that they weren’t scared when deep down they were just cowards who stole things that weren’t theirs. 

she cocked her gun, following him as he made the movements to begin to circle her. she knew that trick, it was one made to intimidate people, to catch people a little off their guard. when would they strike? what would they do? how would they do it? 

his hands were still up, that meant he was stalling and he was thinking of a plan. she had her gun still raised, athena wasn’t concerned, he could come charging at her and he’d be another life added to her list, “you come any closer now i’ll shoot you.”

“i don’t believe you, little girl,” he stopped right across from her, the fire flaming up his body from the angle he was at. his hands lowered slowly but he still kept his shoulders up in hesitation, like he was trying to figure her out. 

the nickname angered her, it made her think he must have done it on purpose to defy her, to anger her from her calm exterior, but from the position he was in made her think otherwise, he didn’t seem that smart.

“you don't have to believe me, it’s just what’s gonna happen.”

he breathed out, “i just want to share the fire.”

everyone wanted fire but not everyone was willing to share it. there was always that hesitation in the back of everyone’s brain the gnawed away, wondering whether or not if in the moment you were going to die, that that person, that stranger sitting across from you, were they going to kill you?

athena, she wasn’t afraid to die, it was like her whole life she had been preparing to do so. everyone died, it was the outcome of everything and you couldn't prevent it. 

no one should be afraid to die.

she pulled the trigger, air exhaling out from her nostrils in some sort of relief of pressure, “it’s not yours to share.”

she watches his body sink to the ground, folding to his knees before falling over on his side. no one should be afraid. 

not even the cowards.

“you shot him.”

athena froze, she could feel her heart in her throat.

so he wasn't alone...

she flipped around just like before with her gun raised just as high, pointing at the more built man who looked quite opposite to the man she had just shot. this man was younger, and yet more built. he had muscle and meat on him while the other one looked to be only skin and bones. 

“he wouldn't leave.”

“you didn't ask him to.”

“i asked him to stop moving.”

“he did.”

“he would have killed me.”

“now how do you know that?”

she pursed her lips, the feeling of air almost felt entirely pushed out of her throat like she was suffocating. this man for some reason made her feel a lot more nervous than she usually was with other people. 

it was because he didn't seem scared, he seemed comfortable, like talking to her was a normal thing and they were only old friends who just came across eachother. and those were the type of people that worried her. 

“i just wanted him to ask you some questions,” he finally said, his arms lightly raising as if to caution her more than himself, “just some questions, nothing dangerous.”

“questions can be dangerous,” she mumbled quickly, her arms beginning to hurt from the position she had been holding for so long and uncomfortably. 

“not the ones he was asking.”

“then why didn't you ask them yourself?” she quirked a brow, “you seem to know you were going to get your friend killed but if you knew your questions weren't dangerous how come you didn't ask them yourself?”

she stumped him, he pursed his lips while exhaling audibly through his nose, “i’ve been watching you, i knew you would've shot before he had sat down, and look at that, i was right.”

she was caught off guard, her posture and hold on the gun slightly weakening as she narrowed her brows at him, her jaw clenching. that was her worst nightmare, being watched, but it had never actually happened before because she was good at what she did, she was silent and could sense things very easily. apparently not as well as she thought. 

“I've been watching you,” he repeated, licking his lips slightly and quickly, “i think you can help me-”

“why would i help you?-”

“because i’ll kill you if you don’t.”

she scoffed, slightly tilting her head to the side while her eyes were closed a bit, “that’d be really nice wouldn't it?” she lowered her gun, turning her back to him, no longer perceiving him as a threat, not as a big one anyways, if he wanted to kill her, he would’ve already, if he wanted to hurt her, he would’ve done that the moment she shot his friend or even during the moments he had been supposedly watching her.

what he said was a stupid thing to say. 

“dying is a luxury not all of us are privileged with,” she mumbled, looking back up at the blanketed sky full of bright stars that could light up a room like a lamp, “you’re gonna have to come up with a better threat if you want me to help you.”

he presses his lips together, watching athena discreteetly before rubbing his face in frustration while tipping on the back of his heel. the man before her was not used to rejection, and athena could tell even with her back turned to him.

“you’re athena,” he mumbles, saying it precisely as if he was about it give her a whole speech, already having a new plan. 

he was hoping to pull this one out later, but he hadn't planned to be practically laughed at after his key sentence that was supposed to start it all, I'm going to kill you. 

it made her freeze, tightening her grip on the gun she still had in her hand. 

her name, how the fuck did he know that?

him knowing her name seemed to be scarier than the threat of death. 

“you’re athena, and you’ve been alone for how many days now?”

he continued to stare at the back of her head, waiting for her to just turn around with the shocked expression he just knew she had on. just waiting for her to turn around so he could redeem himself, so he could have the upper hand once again.

but the truth was, he never did have the upper hand. if he wanted it, he would have had a gun pointed to the back of her head, he would have been the one to confront her instead of using that poor skeleton man already bound for death. 

athena was always the one with the upper hand. the hand gun now once again pointed to him, her body turned just as he wished but not with the expression he had expected. 

she glared, her eyes in slits as she was just daring him to make a move. 

“you leave me alone now,” she whispered, her voice filled with so much will and power that he couldn't mistake it for anything else, “i don’t care who you are or how you know my name, just get the hell away from me before i blow your brains out.”

the 100/bellamy blake in a zombie apocalypse.

summary 📣: what the 100 cast and bellamy blake are like in the zombie apocalypse

warnings 🚫: swearing, ZOMBIES!1!1!

slater’s note 🗯: uh yuh i love the concept of the 100 x the walking dead/zombie apocalypse so...

➪ he’s a natural born leader that at first is very cautious on allowing others to join his group but then when he creates a camp and starts to rebuild (like alexandria, hilltop, the kingdom, etc), he’s very eager on allowing people to join

➪ he has such a soft spot for people who have sob stories and that honestly betrays him in the future, especially with children apart of other groups, trying to bait him to bring his community/camp down

➪ this man honestly loved being the leader when the apocalypse first started but as it continued on and things got rougher and rougher, it bears on his shoulders and the fun that he saw in it at first just leaves his head

➪ he holds literally all his pain/feelings in because he doesn’t know how to do anything else

➪ he needs to make sure everyone is safe, he’s the type of person to do headcounts every second anytime they’re doing scavenging runs in large groups

➪ “hey, where’s murphy? he was literally here a second ago?”

➪ or “octavia, you run off again... i’ll beat your ass.”

➪ man literally has no patience in the zombie apocalypse

➪ he goes psychotic/m.i.a at some point in time before he becomes a full community leader and like chops off zombie heads for fun and puts their blood/guts on himself so he can walk in their herds without being eaten (ex: like nick clark in ftwd)

➪ that’s so weird to say sorry 😭

➪ but deadass low key feel like he becomes depressed at some points but what keeps him going is making sure others he cares about are alive and well

➪ octavia is a literal wandering butterfly during the start and he has to work his ass off just to make sure she doesn’t die

➪ like she literally is so fascinated by the walkers/zombies that she’ll try to get as close as she can and almost die only for bellamy to pull her away quickly scolding the shit out of her

➪ “o, how many times do i have to tell you? the dead is not to be messed with.”

➪ octavia and lincoln are apart of two different rivalry groups, sort of like a romeo and juliette complex

➪ bellamy and octavia are such a badass duo, like her with her sword that she like finds in a museum (or something like that???) and bellamy with like a hatchet trying to get their group to safety

➪ raven is still the brain of the group and bellamy’s right hand man when it comes to getting out of tight situations with other rivalry groups

➪ she scolds him 24/7 and everytime he approaches her with a problem and before he can get a word out about it she’s like:

➪ “what’d you do this time?” or “who’d you piss off now?” and “what problem do i have to fix for you this time dear bellamy?”

➪ murphy is a literal MENACE 

➪ he’ll get himself in more dangerous situations than octavia and he does it so much it’s to the point the group doesn’t even try to help him

➪ he struggles real hard when nobody does anything for him but ends up having to save himself

➪ low key just dramatic and sarcastic but he’s what deadass keeps the group going even though he’s 99.9% reason of why most arguments start

➪ “shut up murphy, you don’t even know what’s going on” or “murphy you’re a fucking dumbass” or “murphy, the reason you’re even alive is because of me”

➪ anyways to end this, i’ll just say, at night, when bellamy needs to calm down, he stares up at the stars and just exhales, searching for the big dipper or signs he can recognize

taglist 🗞:

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@phantompogues

death era.

part three of n/a.

ricky rocks. okay now the story is going to get moving.

“hey, hey, relax.”

the light shimmering of sun peaking through the forest trees flooded into athena’s eyesight like anguish. her head throbbed and all she could get out was a groan while her body rolled slightly around on the forest floor in attempt to bring her back to life and recreate feeling within her limbs.

her eyes squinted into slits as the feeling of sleep wore off into the ground and reality hit her harder than bellamy did. he didn’t kill her like he said he would, she was alive, and she could really feel it now. 

she struggled in her position, a feeling of paranoia striking her fast as she half expected bellamy would be right there to watch her become accustomed to the blow to her head and the large deep cut swelling in her right shoulder—she almost thought it was him who had pressure on the wound.

but she was mistaken, it was a girl. 

that’s all athena could make out as she tried her best to adjust her eyesight on the girl with the half-assed lift of her head.

“steady yourself there, blue,” a groan once again resonated from athena’s mouth as the girl moved back a bit, more sunlight flooding into her sight and more pain as the girl pressed harder onto her shoulder causing blood to leak out beneath her hands. 

“someone sliced you huh,” she tilted her head a bit, more or so mumbling to herself as she examined athena a little more, pursing her lips. “smacked you across the head too.”

athena only grunted in reply, her eyes rolling into the back of her head at the pain. the girl grabbed her forehead, tilting it back and forth and up and down, trying to see where the blood of the wound on her head resonated from. 

“i need to patch you up,” she huffs, “you're gonna need stitches on that shoulder of yours and i don’t even know what to do about the rest of you.”

the girl clicked her tongue, sitting back, letting go of athena’s shoulder hesitantly while she made a move to her pack, but she heard the click of a gun making her tightly close her eyes in regret. it was difficult to find good trusting people anymore, even ones that were injured, they always seemed to be the most hesitant. 

“who are you?” athena pushed past the urge to wince as she had increased the pain in her shoulder. the gun bellamy had used to knock her out had been left graciously a little ways up and past her head. 

“octavia,” she had her hands raised as she turned back around slowly, “my name is octavia and i just want to help you, okay?”

“no one just wants to help,” athena mumbled, just barely coughing her words out.

“listen, i don’t care what you think, but you need stitches, and the bullet in your leg pulled out.”

“what?-”

bam. 

being knocked upside the head twice in a day was not healthy, especially for someone in the condition athena was in. octavia wasn't sure how the girl had such a strong hold up still, she knew she’d probably be a mess if she had a cut deep in need of stitches and a bullet stuck in her thigh, but the thing was, athena was out of conscious, if she wanted to scream, she couldn't have. 

when athena woke up, she felt like she couldn’t move. she felt as if her thigh had tons of bricks inside of it, weighing her down to the forest floor. the realization that bellamy also shot her hit her hard; what was the point? to slow her down? to let her slowly bleed out and die? that being him feeling less guilty with the possibly that she’d survive?

athena felt like she was about to throw up, her eyes twitched in pain when her shoulder took over most of her thoughts, pain was the only thing bouncing around in that head of hers. 

octavia, the girl who knocked athena in the head, also the girl who had saved her from bleeding out, sat a couple feet away, rummaging through something. it made athena swallow when she just barely raised her head to peak. 

octavia was going through her pack. that alone would have set athena off but she couldn't do much from the position she was in, and this girl saved her after all.

“i’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mess with my things,” she gazed up at the darkening sky, her stomach rummaging around in anxiousness as well as pain, “it’s rude.”

octavia froze, but then relaxed when realizing the girl couldn't do anything, even if she tried. “just trying to figure out who you are,” she mumbled, flipping through a book, a journal, but it wasn't athenas, part of it wasn't anyways. 

“hate to break it to you, but i’m a nobody.”

“you must be a somebody if you can get ahold of an m4 carbine,” she mumbled again, before putting away the journal without much examination, sliding over to where athena began to get up. 

“how’d you get a military gun?”

“they’re not hard to steal.”

“yeah but they’re hard to find, they’re rare and fucking dangerous.”

“how do you know that?”

the pair of young girls stare into each other's eyes for a good moment, each studying one another. there's more than met the surface, and the both of them knew it.

“that journal, it keeps track of hits, but most of them aren't recent... that isn't yours, is it?” 

oh. so she did study it. 

“how do you know so much about the m4?”

“where did you get it?”

“at a base off the interstate.”

“which one.”

“i don’t remember.”

“okay,” octavia’s face laid blank but there was still a layer of skepticism that littered her brows as they were slightly pinched together. she knew. “can i ask why you were bleeding out when i found you?”

“some prick-” she slightly gasped as she adjusted her position, “decided to let me suffer instead of kill me like he promised.”

“why?”

athena cringed, slightly turning her head, “i wouldn’t give him what he wanted.”

octavia didn’t push on from there.

“when’s the last time you ate?”

"why do you want to help me so bad?"

"because human decency is hard to find and i know if i was in the exact position you're in, i'd want help."

oh.

athena didn't say anything in return because she couldn't agree. octavia, this girl before her, was a better person than she was. in todays world, it was everyone for themselves.

"now, when's the last time you ate?"

**

"why are you alone?" for the past hour athena were trying your best to ease into the presence of octavia and her strangely positive attitude. she were propped against a tree, sitting across from the girl as she seemed to of been tying pieces of grass to one another.

"i have people," she spoke, her tone a lot lower than it had been before. it was like instantly her mood had dropped and she was now dejected. "we got split up."

"so, you're alone now."

"but with reason."

"with reason?" athena arched a brow, examining her closely now.

"i'm looking for someone."

"the rest of your group?"

"no," she shook her head, "see, half our group was split in half, and i got split from them."

athena didn't press on. there was something about this topic that was obviously upsetting and the girl wasn't as up for talking about it as anything else. athena was also finding it difficult to talk to her in the first place, it seemed she was almost hiding something with how restricting she was with her words now.

"do you have people?"

stupid question.

"no."

"why not?"

athena had to be careful answering this. she had many reasons as to not trusting people, not to be in a collective group, but saying the wrong thing could place a bad atmosphere on the both of them, "most of the people around here are dead."

"and the live ones?"

"usually want to kill me... if you couldn't tell."

she lightly smiles, and silence settles over as the both of them thought. she wanted to say something, athena could tell, but she was hesitant, "my people aren't like that."

"what are they like?" athena shouldn't have been entertaining the idea, she knew that, she knew where octavia was going with that statement.

"you should find out."

athena shook her head, "you don't have to do that."

"do what?"

"offer me a position in your group. you've already done enough for me," she internally cringed at her sweet words, "if anything, i owe you."

"then help me find them," her voice sounds slight enlightened as an idea pops into her head.

"what?"

"help me find them, pay me back that way."

shit.

"octavia-"

"athena, you said it yourself, you owe me and what's holding you back from doing so?" she was now drawing closer to her, "listen, i stay with you for a week, help you heal, and when you can walk, you help me, deal?"

she's now right next to her, making it hard for her to look anywhere but at octavia. everything was screaming at her to not agree, to stick to her ground rules. but something overruled that power as she starred deeper into octavia’s eyes and saw something she hasn’t seen in a long time; hope.

"deal."

navigation.

@thecraziestcrayon @mynewnamedoesnotmatter @cc13723things @black-rose-29 @reality-runaway @let-love-bleeds-red @rudypankowisdaddy @the-anxious-youth @kitkat-mini @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem

death era.

part four of n/a.

ricky rocks. no bellamy fans out there 😐

two weeks.

athena was losing her mind and she had learned an awful lot about some girl she barely knew in the first place. she was crazy, that was her first thought because there was no way someone was as determined and positive as she was in the midst of an apocalypse.

days counted down, leading nearer and nearer to when she’d have to pay up. which was something that athena dreaded. ever since her hostile encounter with bellamy, she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of putting herself in the position of encountering more strangers.

the only thing that kept her stable? ironically was the same thing driving her insane; octavia.

even if the girl was quite strange, athena found comfort in her presence and she relieved her from the pain that was graced upon her body within the last three weeks. athena almost forgot about the weight of death that was constantly weighting on her everyday.

but now, since the bullet wound was on the edge of fully healing and the cut seared into her shoulder was beginning to fully scar over; she was on the move.

the woods seemed so abnormally cloudy than usual. cloudy and cold. athena could barely see three feet in front of her.

athena was on the top of her senses as she looked around the barely visible landscape; her lips pressed into a thin line, thinking over all the possibilities of dying right in that moment. there were a lot, all varying from tripping over a log and smashing your skull on a rock to unintentionally finding a walker. 

she glanced over to octavia who looked around in a less tense movement than her; her eyes closing with some form of content as she seemed to be consuming the cold air that seeped into her pores. she welcomed the unfamiliarity that surrounded them. it made athena uneasy and even a little bothered by the way she seemed so.. happy. 

“i have a feeling...”

“you said that half an hour ago,” athena gave her a pointed look, as if telling her whatever she was thinking, it wasn’t going to work out.

“have faith, little goddess,” her lips turned upwards into a small smile, eyebrows raising up as if returning her the rough look but with softer eyes.

athena ignored her, focusing back in front of the path she walked, careful not run into a hidden tree or trip over a log. walkers were the least of their worries at that moment.

“you sure this is where you came from?”

athena was leery that of octavia in this sense. they were wandering far from the road and in a maze of trees that you couldn’t tell apart from any other part of the woods. she didn’t understand how the girl found any of it familiar.

“just trust me, athena.”

“yeah, i’m having a hard time with that,” she mumbled to herself, stepping carefully over a thick fallen tree, not looking for really anything specific.

“just relax.”

“yeah, i’m also having a hard time with that as well.”

octavia resists to the action to roll her eyes too hard at her hard headed friend. the past two weeks had been frustrating on octavia’s end and her patience had been wearing so thin due athena’s untrusting and almost hostile nature.

it was obvious athena has problems revolving around communicating and the presence of a caring person, but it was understanding—you couldn’t trust people during this time. but with how much octavia had proved herself to be a good person—and athena was still so conflicting with her existence, it had become hard not to just drop everything and ditch her for the dead.

octavia wondered if athena was always like that, even in the before.

“you really think they’d wait-“

the sound of light cackling made athena stop her speaking, her eyes going everywhere at once. the sound was so startling for she hadn’t heard a laugh like that for awhile. her heart was throwing itself up in her throat as she clasped her gun tightly, senses turned up more than ever.

octavia had stopped walking as well, her eyes gliding across the white misty blanket in front of them carefully, almost hoping to see past it in hopes of matching the cackle with a form or face. but she wasn’t unnerved, she had almost heard a laugh like that every day of her life, especially after the apocalypse. 

the laugh rose through the air again, bouncing against the trees and ripping through the fog, reaching the two girls once again making octavia widen her eyes, her back straightening in realization. 

“murphy.”

“what—wait octavia, where are you going?”

athena’s eyes widen as she watched the girl take off into the blinding wall of white, her small form disappearing fast, making athena’s heart pick up and chest tighten, completely at a lost as to what had just happened before her eyes. 

“octavia!”

she knew she shouldn’t have yelled, she didn’t know why she did either because once octavia found her people, she would never have to deal with any living, conscious person ever again.

and if octavia wanted to run off into the fog, that’d make it faster and easier for athena to carry on.

but something had begun to eat away at athena’s mind the moment octavia took her fast step towards the unknown laugh. she owed it to not only the girl herself, but to octavia’s people to keep the girl alive and well, despite her being a pain in the ass.

it was hard to keep up with curiosity.

“‘tavia!”

athena’s word froze out into the open air as she breathed roughly, her stride increasing in speed and length as she continued to chase the girl through the milky woods. it begun to hurt, worse that ever. she felt as if the stitches in her shoulder would pop or the wound in her thigh would start bleeding with her feat hitting the unknown trek roughly and harshly. it was the all too quick, and hesitant movement that pained her. 

“oct-“

her body slammed into the back of another, almost knocking to the ground of crisp leaves.

“they’re here...” she whispered, her figure stable to the ground in such a calm manner as if she hadn’t taken off so fast and unexpected moments ago, “i can feel it.”

athena stared at octavia blatenly with her mouth opened wide in a dumbfounded manner, “are you fucking crazy?” she wanted to smack the girl on the back of the head, but didn't die to still being so shocked. 

“octavia?”

athena freezes, turning around quickly to see a figure emerging from the fog. a girl, with loose strands of brown hair flying everywhere from the ponytail she had in. she seemed to be out of breath like she had been sprinting just like the two of them, her chest heaving up and down drastically.

“octavia, oh my god,” she scoffs happily, rushing to the girl before wrapping her arms around her tightly, “we thought you were dead.”

athena stares silently, holding her gun awkwardly till her hears the mumble of words from octavia, i’m not thanks to her.

she shook her head, still not understanding what was happening, nor processing it as quick as the ditz before her. how did they just... find each other? athena looked away from the pair, her eyes immediately landing onto more figures that began to become more and more visible from the fog.

athena raises her gun rather fast out of caution when two figures slow out of their running stance, quickly raising their hands in caution as well as shock. 

“woah there kid,” a boy says quickly, eyeing her up and down, before landing flat on her gun, his eyes lighting up for a split moment.

“athena, it’s them,” octavia puts herself between athena and the boy, pushing the weapon away from them quickly, “my people.”

athena tilts her head back, as if steadily leaning her body away from the black haired girl unsurely, tightening her grip on the rifle. she wasn't too sure about this. too many people, too many unknown faces. 

“yeah, people, ever seen them before?” the boy raised his eyebrows, laying his hand on the barrel of the gun, pointing in downward, almost mocking her, “looks like you’ve lived in a hole for the past six years.”

“you don’t look any better pal,” the girl besides him mumbles, speaking for the first time as her eyes observed the landscape. she seemed unsettled and hesitant with where they were located, like there were something wrong—but not at all concerned as to who athena was.

athena kept her gaze on the dirty blonde haired girl, analyzing her carefully before the girl returns her own gaze. she seemed to hold a cautious stare when looking at athena and maybe it was because of the gun she was holding.

“i knew you’d wait up murphy,” octavia says, holding a proud smirk on her face as she looked up to the boy who had a couple inches on her.

“not like it was my choice,” he said, “can’t control mother nature.”

athena slightly winced at the sass in his voice and statement, implying he would’ve left if the fog hadn’t been holding them up, but octavia didn’t seem to be bothered for she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly with a satisfied smile. 

murphy seemed to accept the embrace right away despite his seemingly negative behavior directed towards her.

it was sweet.

athena felt a sense of slight awkwardness as she stood, gripping her gun tightly. she hadn’t been around people for the longest time. octavia alone was hard enough to handle, she didn’t possibly know how to handle a whole group. so she returned her gaze back to the girl who stood next to murphy, who seemed to be continuing to analyze the layout of the forest, as if memorizing it, thinking of the best ways to find a way to guide through it.

“where’s bell?” octavia broke the silence, turning to the first girl who had shown through the fog, she only shrugged her shoulders, not really giving a concern to the person in mention.

“i don’t know, once i heard your voice, i took off,” she crossed her arms, seeming to set back into a mode of seriousness, but yet she didn’t seem so concerned. 

“i’m sure he’s close behind,” murphy mumbled, his expression now dull, lips pressed into a thin line, “if not, i’m sure it won’t be hard to find his large boot tracks.”

“so you guys just left him?”

“it’s not our fault he’s slow,” the other girl mumbled, her eyes now back on athena, analyzing her more. she realized she looked more annoyed than cautious. she looked smart, like she could be a tracker and her mind spoke more than her actual mouth.

“so you going to introduce your friend, or do we have to find out ourselves?” murphy sighed, looking back to athena who froze under mention.

“this is athena marrisen, found her in the woods on the look for bell,” octavia motioned to her, but athena didn’t move at all nor said anything.

everything was so off putting.

“so you go to look for your brother, but come back with a lost looking puppy who can barely hold her gun,” murphy looked athena up and down with a blank gaze, “great.”

“bellamy can handle himself, he found his way back to you guys, right?”

bellamy.

athena’s brows scrunched up as she looked up to octavia, but before she could say anything she heard the loud stomps of a heavy set of shoes. athena bit her lip, eyes on the ground as she begun to process things.

“bellamy, oh thank god.”

her eyes flew up to the man who emerged from the fog, dark curly locks, a red cut that begun to heal stretched across his cheek bone, his large built body making his way out of the blinding fog. her eyes widen, feet moving faster than her mind could process.

“you son of bitch,” she's quick to throw the large rifle to the ground, practically leaping towards the man, gripping his collar tightly, pressing the knife she pulled from her belt loop to his throat, “you fucking asshole.”

“you,” he finally processed who had him a knife point, his eyes widening before glaring quickly despite the layer of surprisal wrapping around his mind, “how the fuck are you alive?”

“really thought your bullet would kill me? i’m just trying to survive, remember?” she spits, pressing her knife harder against his throat.

“it wasn’t meant to kill you,” he spat back, “it was meant to make you suffer.”

“blue, let him go,” a sense of urgency in octavia’s voice filled athena’a ears as she grabs onto her shoulder lightly, not necessarily surprised bellamy had a knife to his throat, but confused as to why it was athena of all people. 

“you know her?” bellamy narrowed his brows, looking to octavia who was trying her best to pry athena off his neck.

“bellamy, you know her?”

“bellamy’s the one who put the bullet in my thigh.”

“yeah we got that already,” murphy was leaned against one of the trees barely surrounded in fog, completely unbothered and relaxed.

if bellamy’s throat was slit right in that moment—which there was a high percentage that’d happen—it wouldn’t bother murphy as much as the others. better bellamy than him. 

“raven,” bellamy’s eyes search for the girl who was leaned behind octavia, “get her off of me.”

the first girl to appear from the fog narrowed her brows, “wait, bellamy,” raven dumbfounds, inching closer to you, “this is the girl?”

“what girl?”

“bellamy said he may have had found the answers to all of our problems,” she smirks, leaning on the tips of her toes to see the side of athena’s face better.

it catches her off guard as she hesitantly looks as raven, her face slowly turning to meet the girls curious and smirky gaze. it was the wrong move to say less because right as she turned her cheek, bellamy had knocked athena to her ass.

a loud groan resonated past her lips as he now hovered over her with the knife now pressed into her throat, “maybe this time i won’t make the mistake-“

athena clocks him on the side of the head with her fist before he could finish his sentence, his stance becoming weaker but still hovered over her.

“bellamy, don’t kill her!”

but all of octavia’s yelling and pleading was only background noise as athena continue to bash away at the side of his head before finally brining her knee up between his legs, kneeing hard.

it causes him to groan loudly, curling into a ball by the side of her and it was like a routine now because she was now pointing the firearm he had in his belt loop at his temple, but it was like she forgot she was around his people, strangers. 

and athena of all people knew not to trust strangers.

the cautious girl, the girl who seemed smart; sent a blow to the side of her head, knocking athena out almost immediately. 

navigation.

@thecraziestcrayon @mynewnamedoesnotmatter @cc13723things @black-rose-29 @reality-runaway @let-love-bleeds-red @the-anxious-youth @kitkat-mini @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem

Daryl Dixon x OC.

my obsession with Norman Reedus is unhealthy. 

I don’t know why but I can see Dog doing this 😂

Imagine: Dog with your’s and Daryl’s baby.