Please can I request #1 and #21 from the prompt list for a Rick x reader!
prompts: 1- "Are you bit?" 21- "If anything happens to Y/N, you'll be dead before you hit the ground."
pairing: Rick Grimes x Reader
summary: Rick has a habit of treating you like you can't handle yourself, and when a newcomer in Alexandria asks you to go on a supply run with him, Rick inserts himself into the situation because he doesn't trust anyone in the community just yet, especially with you. And when the newcomer puts your life in danger, Rick loses his cool. (there's some fluffiness-ish at the end tho)
warnings: Rick is super protective and probably possessive. Asthma mention, if that even needs to be a warning?
notes: Evan is just a random made up character. I love a protective Rick story so I hope I did this justice. I'm super worried that Rick is out of character hhhhhhhh
The walls of Alexandria had a way of making you feel like a caged animal. For weeks now you'd been stuck inside, staring at the same faces, the same house walls, and the same rusty walls that kept you in. It all felt too neat, too secluded. After the chaos of the world outside, it was hard to feel comfortable in a place that didn't demand every ounce of you attention at every given second. The peace that was supposed to make you feel safe, only made you feel unsettled.
You had spent most of your time trying to adapt to this new life, but it wasn't coming as easily as you'd like. The need to move, to be out there where life still had the chaotic edge you were used it, gnawed at you constantly. Alexandria was safe, sure, but safety felt like a gilded cage.
So when Evan, a quiet new member of the community, approached you with a request, it didn't take much convincing for you to say yes.
"Hey, Y/N," Evan's voice was tentative as he caught your attention while you walked through the community garden. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
You paused and gave him a small smile, he'd never been anything but kind to you before. "Sure, what's up?"
He hesitated for a moment before continuing, his hands fiddling nervously with the sleeves of his shirt. "So, I need some help with something. It's not like a super big deal but... I've got asthma. I've been out of my inhalers for a while now, since before I even came here actually, and... I don't want to ask just anyone for help. But Deanna said maybe you'd be willing to help me out? There's a pharmacy on the outskirts of here. I'm sure it's probably been picked clean by now but I thought... maybe you could help me make sure there aren't any inhalers left behind?"
You raised an eyebrow, thinking it over. A run to a pharmacy for some medication? It didn't sound like much, but the idea of being outside of the walls, of doing something that felt like a true normal, was enough make you feel that itch to move again.
"Yeah, I'll help you," you said, surprising yourself with how quickly you agreed. "I could use some time outside the walls myself."
Evan's face brightened, but he still seemed a little uncomfortable. He glanced around as if he was unsure of how to proceed. "Really? Thank you, Y/N. It shouldn't take too long. We'll grab the stuff and head back, no problem."
Before you could say anything else, a voice cut through the air behind you, low and on edge.
"No. I don't think that's a good idea."
You froze in your spot, turning towards the voice. Rick was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and his eyes locked on you with the familiar intensity he held nowadays. He was never way from you for long, always knowing your exact location and what you were up to.
"What do you mean, 'no'?" you asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in your voice. "I'm just going to help Evan with a simple supply run. Nothing I haven't done before."
Rick's jaw shifted tightly as he spoke. "Not alone, you're not."
You exhaled sharply. "I've been out there just as long as you, Rick. I know how to handle myself. I don't need you to babysit me."
Rick's gaze didn't falter. "It's not about babysitting," he said, his voice unyielding. "It's about making sure you don't get yourself killed. I'm not sending you out there with someone I don't know. Not like this."
You could feel your chest tightening in frustration. You knew Rick didn't trust the community fully yet, but he had no reason not to trust you or your judgement. "I don't need you to protect me out there. I can take care of myself."
Rick didn't budge, he never does when it comes to anything that has to do with you or your safety. "You can go, I can't stop you from that. But I'm going to be with you, at least watching from a distance."
You felt a surge of anger bubbling through you. "I am not some helpless child, Rick! I can do this on my own."
His eyes softened for a brief second before reverting back to their defensive gaze. "I don't trust him," Rick said flatly, not even sparing a glance in Evan's direction. "And I can't trust you out there alone with him. You know we don't take chances anymore."
Evan shifted uncomfortably behind you, but Rick continued to ignore him completely. "I'm coming with you," he added, voice firm and final. "Whether you like it or not."
You bit your lip, your patience growing painfully thin. You were a grown woman who is capable of making your own decisions, and yet here he was, deciding for you. But there was something in the way that he said it, something in the set of his jaw that told you that arguing with him was going to get you nowhere.
"Fine," you said, trying to hide the bitterness in your voice. "But I'm not going to pretend I'm happy about it."
Rick didn't verbally respond, only nodded his head once. "Let's get moving then. Don't want to waste the daylight."
The walk outside Alexandria was quieter than you expected it to be. The tension between you and Rick simmered under the surface, but there was also a strange calm to it. You walked side by side, but there was an unspoken distance between the two of you. Evan kept to himself, falling a few paces behind. His face was a little flushed, obviously uncomfortable with the situation at hand.
"So, uh... this is your first time out this far, right?" Evan asked, trying to make conversation.
You glanced back at him for a moment. "Yeah, it's been a while. I'm just glad to be out for a bit. Being in a controlled environment after being out here for so long... can start to feel stuffy."
Evan nodded cautiously, his eyes flickering towards Rick. "Yeah, I get that. It's hard to adjust to all the 'normal life' things again."
You let the silence stretch between you, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees being the only noise as you approached the pharmacy. It was a small, run down building on the outskirts of the community. The windows were boarded up with only a few small gaps where light filtered through.
You pushed the door open, and the sound of creaking metal filled the air as you entered. Inside, it was eerily quiet. The shelves were mostly empty, but a surprising amount of remnants remained. You moved to the back of the store, where you found the inhalers on a dusty shelf tucked behind old ibuprofen boxes.
"I found them," you said, holding them out to Evan. His face lit up instantly with relief.
"Oh wow, this has got to be at least half a years worth. Thanks, Y/N. You don't know how much this helps me."
But then, a loud crash echoed through the building. You froze in place, and your heart pounded as the unmistakable shuffle of walkers followed the crash. The back door, that you had noticed looked rather weak, had been broken open by a group of them.
Evan's eyes widened in panic. "Shit! We need to go. Now!"
Before you could react, Evan rushed past you, knocking you back into one of the walkers. You hit the floor hard, and the walker immediately lunged at you. Its rotten hands reaching for anything it can grasp, and it's teeth clashing at you like a rabid dog. You scrambled, your breath quickening as you struggled to push it away, but it was too heavy.
That's when the gunfire rang out.
Rick's voice cut through the chaos. "Y/N!"
You turned your head just in time to see him storming through the back door, his gun raised and firing at the walkers to dead on precision. Within seconds, he'd cleared the room. The walkers collapsed in heaps around you with loud thuds.
"Are you bit?" Rick demanded, his voice frantic as he grabbed you by the shoulders, helping you up off of the floor.
You shook your head quickly. "No. No bites. I'm okay."
Rick's eyes scanned you over and over, ensuring there was no injuries done to you, no sign of infection. His hands were still on you, his grip painfully tight. As if he was making sure you were safe, truly safe, before he could think of letting you go from his grasp.
"Let's go," he said, his voice firm but tone softer. He moved his grip from your shoulders to one of your arms, guiding you toward the front door.
As you stumbled out onto the road, Rick turned on Evan. His eyes were cold and hard as he charged at him.
"If anything happens to Y/N," Rick said, "you'll be dead before you hit the ground."
Evan was completely still, his mouth opening to defend himself but no sound came out. Rick was towering over the smaller man so close, that you were sure Evan could feel Rick's ragged breath on him. Rick's gaze never wavered, his words hanging in the air like it was a promise he was daring Evan, or anyone else, to break.
"You need to learn that," Rick added, his tone sharp and solid.
The walk back to Alexandria was quiet, the only sounds being the crunch of dirt underneath your shoes. Evan stayed way behind, his steps heavy with guilt and embarrassment. Rick's presence beside you was comforting, but it also felt like a storm was brewing. He wasn't saying anything, but his hand was firmly placed at the small of your back, guiding you along.
When you finally reached the gates of Alexandria, Rick stopped and turned to face you.
"Don't go out with him again. I don't want you going out with anyone but me or from our group," Rick said quietly but firmly.
You crossed your arms, your frustration flaring again. "You're never going to trust anyone here, are you?"
Rick looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. "Not if they're going to put you at risk like that. I'll be damned if something happens to you because of their ignorance."
Later that night, after everything had calmed down, you found yourself sitting in the living room of your assigned Alexandria home, with your eyes wandering over the flickering flames of the fireplace. The noise from the others around you was muted, and you felt the weight of the day's events finally pressing down on you with full force. You could still feel the echo Rick's words, the way he had rushed in to save you, even though you hadn't even wanted him there in the first place.
You glanced across the room and found Rick sitting by the window, his posture tense as he stared out into the night. His thoughts were clearly elsewhere than in the moment. You couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at you earlier. Not just as a leader of the group you were a part of, but as someone who couldn't bear the thought of losing you.
Taking a deep breath, you stood up from your spot and walked towards him. He didn't notice your presence at first, but when you stopped in front of him, he looked up and met your gaze.
"Rick," you said, barely above a whisper. "Why did you really come with us?"
Ricks eyes softened slightly, and he exhaled as if he'd been holding his breath all day long. "I couldn't stand the thought of you being out there with someone who can't protect you."
You shook your head, taken aback by the sincerity and truth in his voice. "I'm not some helpless little lady, Rick. I've been through way worse completely alone. You don't have to follow me around with a safety net just waiting for me to fall."
Rick sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I know you can take care of yourself. But I care about you, Y/N. The idea of something happening to you out there, without me being there to stop it, kills me."
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing. "You don't have to protect me like that. You don't have to take that responsibility on."
Rick stood up slowly, taking a step closer to you. His voice was low and rough. "I can't stop. Not when it comes to you."
For a long moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, and the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you.
You finally spoke, your voice soft. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do that, Rick. But... I get it. I get why you do."
He leaned his head down closer to your, faces inches apart. "I'm sorry for following you when you didn't want me to. I just couldn't help myself."
You reached out and squeezed his hand, the touch warm and comforting. "I don't mind you following me. Just don't make it feel like you're watching over all the time like I can break at any moment, yeah?"
Rick smiled slightly, a flicker of something softer in his eyes has he straightened back up. "I can't promise that. But I'll try."
may i request carol & 20. "If you go, I'm going too." but reader saying that to carol? and perhaps it being one of the first things she says after a traumatic event?
prompt: 20- "If you go, I'm going too."
pairing: Carol Peletier x Reader
summary: After the traumatic events that happened at Terminus, you quit speaking. Not knowing any other way to cope. On the road, the group has completely run out of food, and Rick instructs a small circle of people to run through a small grocery store. When something bad happens on the run, and the person you care for most gets hurt, you find your voice to speak again.
warnings: Y/N character basically has PTSD, Y/N character basically threatening suicide, talk of a very bad injury, descriptions of bad shit that happened at Terminus, basic TWD gore, there is a happy ending though
notes: this is probably not what you had in mind, but it's just kind of where it went whoops. once the plot was in my mind I couldn't get it to go away bc I think Terminus is some of the most fucked up shit that happened in the show. still, I hope you like it!! please let me know your thoughts!!
After Terminus, the road didn't just take your energy, it took your voice.
You didn't lose it all at once. It started with fewer words in conversations you had. Then fewer answers to questions. Then fewer acknowledgements at all. Somewhere between the soot on your hands and the miles under your feet, speaking started to feel dangerous to you. Silence felt safer.
The other chalked it up to exhaustion, and they weren't wrong. The group was running on little food and even less rest. Every morning, you it in the face that surrounded you. Rick's eyes dull but scanning for threats, Daryl's shoulders hunched tighter under the crossbow's weight, Glenn's quick glances over his shoulder at Maggie like he was reassuring himself she was still there.
But for you, the exhaustion had teeth and was tearing you to shreds.
Your thoughts came in slow and heavy waves. Sometimes they stalled you completely, leaving you standing still in the middle of a cracked highway before you realized the group was almost ten paces ahead of you.
The memories didn't help you any either.
Terminus hadn't just been place where bad things happened. It had been a sensory nightmare burned into your mind. The stench of meat you didn't have the will power to think the name of. The metallic taste of fear in your mouth. The dull thud of boots on the concrete as you were herded to your own slaughter.
Talking felt like opening the wrong door. Like if you let a single sentence out, the rest of it would come spilling out after it. Then you wouldn't be able to stop the flow of word vomit that rushed out.
Carol noticed all of this.
She never asked you what was wrong. She never tried to fix it for you. She didn't push you to speak, didn't crowd you. She just... was there.
Close enough that she could always keep a watchful eye on you, without being too obvious. Near enough to pass you a canteen without comment or share a watch post with you without filling the air with an unwanted noise.
Once while walking down an overgrown service road, she muttered under her breath about Daryl's refusal to admit he was limping from a twisted ankle. You almost smiled. But it was like the muscles didn't quite remember how to do it.
Somewhere along the road, and without meaning to, you found yourself more worried about scanning for anything that could be a danger to her, instead of yourself or anyone else.
By the time Rick spread a map across the hood of a half rusted car, the group's food was gone. Not getting low, not just a couple of crumbs, completely gone.
"We can make it two more days on the water we have on," he said, voice level. "but we need food. Something solid."
Glenn pointed to a faded mark on the map. "Grocery store there. Looks hidden on the side of a back road. Might've been overlooked since it's not on a main road."
Daryl had already been down that way. "It's half caved in. But there's a back half that's still standing. Could be somethin'."
Rick's gaze swept across the entire group, trying to find the best candidates. "It's gotta be a small crew. Quiet, in and out. Glenn, Daryl, Carol, and Y/N. If you're not back in an hour and a half, we'll come looking."
The walk was quiet. Boots crunching through dry weeds that pushed up through the asphalt.
The store looked like it had been punched in by a giant's fist. One side was nothing but a slope of bricks and twisted steel. The other side still stood, the windows shattered long ago. Sunlight glinted off the shards scattered in the dirt like dangerous pieces of diamonds.
Inside, the air was stale and damp. Sunlight came through gaps in the roof, catching on drifting particles of dust. Shelves leaned at odd angles. Some were stripped bare, others sagging under the weight of warped cardboard boxes.
Glenn took off to the left side aisle's, with Daryl following after. You and Carol veered right.
The silence between you was not uncomfortable, your steps in sync as you scanned the shelves carefully. Then your eyes landed on the jackpot.
Three cans sat near the top of a shelf that tilted toward the center of the aisle. Maybe there was more hiding behind them?
Your stomach tightened in anticipation as you reached for the top one. You barely registered the faint groan of metal before Carol's voice cut through. It was loud and scared.
"Y/N!-"
The shelf all but threw itself forward.
It happened too fast and too slow all at once. The metal screamed at it tipped, all the boxes it held tumbled to the ground. Something slammed hard into your side, and sent you falling back first onto the hard dirty floor.
By the time you were able to get yourself up, Carol wasn't next to you anymore.
Her entire body was underneath the shelf.
The sight didn't register as real to you at first. It was like your brain refused to admit that what was in front of you was your current reality.
Carol, your Carol, laid half pinned beneath the twisted frame of the metal shelf. Her right leg was bent at an angle that made bile crawl up your throat. Blood already soaked dark into the denim of her pants, pooling beneath her on the dusty tile.
You were moving before your thoughts caught up to you, both hands gripping the edge of the shelf and hauling with every shred of strength in your body. Your shoulders burned, your palms screamed. But the damn thing didn't even budge.
Carol was trying to move. And she was failing.
Her breath came in shallow, fast bursts. Her face was pale but set, jaw clenched together in unimaginable pain. Her eyes found yours, and the unspoken thing between you screamed louder than the blood that was rushing into your ears. Don't you dare leave me here.
"Move!"
Daryl's voice was like a shotgun blast directly in your ear. He dropped beside you, grabbing one side of the frame while Glenn took the other. The heaved, the metal screaming as it shifted.
The moment there was enough space, Daryl slide his arms under Carol's shoulders and dragged her free. The sound she made, the sharp intake of a breath she could barely get into her lungs, hit you harder than any scream could've.
Two walkers rounded the corner at the far end of the aisle. Glenn's pistol cracked twice and they dropped like flies.
"Go! That's gonna' draw in more." Daryl snapped, and you went as fast as your body let you. Feet pounding broken tile and lungs struggling for air against your gasps.
Outside, the sun felt too bright. The heat pressing down on you like a physical weight. The group wasn't far, but the distance stretched impossibly long until you were stumbling over the gravel where the group had stopped on the side of the road.
Maggie and Sasha had seen you coming, and had already starting getting the little med kit that had acquired spread out onto a blanket. Gauze, bandages, and half a bottle of antiseptic.
Rick knelt beside Carol, pressing a folded shirt so hard against her wound, it made you physically cringe. His voice was filled with worry, but he was trying his hardest to keep it calm and tight. "We can slow the bleeding. If she makes it through the night, she's got a chance. She can pull through this."
That 'if' cracked something inside of you.
You dropped to your knees beside her before anyone could react. Her skin was cold, her pulse a faint flutter against your fingers.
The words left you without an ounce of hesitation. Your voice was hoarse and raw from not using it for so long.
"If you go," you said, "I'm going too."
The silence that followed was almost tangible. You could feel the multitude of eyes on you, but you didn't care. You didn't look away from Carol. You meant every word you said.
They bandaged her as best as they could with what they had. Sasha cleaned the wound, Maggie wrapped it tight, and Rick was able to find another blanket in one of the many other abandoned cars to keep her warm.
While they did everything, no one asked you to move. They knew it was a lost cause, so they just simple worked around you.
The night was quiet except for the rasp of Carol's breathing. You sat cross legged beside her, holding her hand in both of yours. You could feel the faint thrum of her pulse, and you clung to it like it was the only real thing left in the world. Somewhere far off, you could hear the groans of a few walkers, and the wind hissed through the trees surrounding you.
You whispered to her, words you hadn't let yourself say in weeks. "You're okay. You're here. I've got you. Just stay with me." Sometimes you weren't sure if you were saying it for her or for yourself.
But again, just like the exhaustion, the dark had teeth.
It dragged you back to that place without warning. The metallic smell of blood thick in the air, the wet sound something heavy hitting the floor. The feeling of hands on your shoulders shoving you forward. You blinked the tears away that threatened to pour out, forcing yourself to come back to the now. To Carol's hand in your, to the faint rise and fall of her chest. That kept you grounded.
Hours painfully crawled past. Your muscles cramped, and your eyes burned, but you didn't move from your position. Not once. Every time her breathing hitched, your own lungs froze until she steadied again.
You'd been silent for so long, but now you couldn't stop whispering to her. Promises and pleas. Words you'd never say if she were awake, but wish you could.
Because you were afraid that if you didn't keep speaking, she'd slip away from you.
The first change was small. So small that you almost missed it.
Her breathing deepened, and the tension in her brows eased. Then slowly, her eyelids opened. Her gaze found yours. And after a long moment, she smiled the best that she could at you. It was faint, but it was really there.
"You think you could get rid of me that easily?" she rasped out, barely coming out above a whisper.
You couldn't help the way that it shattered you. A wet and shaky laugh broke out of you, mixed with a heartbreaking sob. You bowed your head until your forehead rested against hers, with tears slipping hot and fast down your cheeks.
She healed slow, doing it stubbornly as possible, arguing she could do more than her body could realistically handle.
Every day the group went further, and she walked farther and stayed on her feet a little longer.
You stayed right beside her. Always within reach. And bit by bit you started speaking again. First to only her, then slowly to the others. It wasn't much, but enough that everyone could feel the difference.
One evening while you were sitting beside her on the hood of an old car, you watched the sunset paint the sky in streaks of orange and pink.
can you do prompt 47, rosita x fem reader. It’s like y/n and Rosita knew each other before or in the beginning and were a thing then shit happened and they got separated or they broke up if you set it before, and they’re at a party in alexandria and Rosita comes up to y/n for the first time after y/n has been there for like a week with her group and they talk about their past and the good times over drinks and by the end Rosita is mid sentence about something Eugine did that was so dumb and pissed her off but y/n kisses her and when they pull away she goes “sorry I couldn’t resist, you’re cute when you ramble about things that piss you off”
idk if that makes any sense but yh :)
prompt: "You come out here a lot?"
pairing: Rosita Espinosa x Female!Reader
summary: After a breakup before the apocalypse, Y/N and Rosita reunite again in Alexandria.
warnings: drinking beer? a breakup, and talking about having to survive.
notes: this is kind of short and sweet I hope that's okay! I'm really loving writing for Rosita!!!
You thought you'd left Rosita behind in the old world.
Not in the physical sense, that would've been easier to grieve. But in the way of "she's not coming back" sense. The "our story ended before the dead even started roaming" sense.
Back then, it had been messy. Ugly words thrown like knives across your tiny apartment. There was never any cheating, no betrayal, nothing like that. Just the kind of fight that leaves your throat raw and your hands shaking because the person you love the most feels a million miles away while sitting right in front of you. You'd accused her of not loving you enough. Not being around enough. Not wanting to be around you. She'd hit back with a hard and defensive anger that only confirmed your worst fear. She had told you, 'Well maybe you're right.'
She left your apartment with no other words. No closure. No communication. Then 8 days later, the world ended.
And now, after months of scavenging, hiding, starving and killing later, you were standing inside the gates of Alexandria. You were smelling baked bread and fresh cut grass for the first time in forever, and then she was there.
There girl who you had loved more than anything, was leaning against the armory railing, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her face tilted toward the late afternoon sun. She looked almost the same, maybe more muscles than you remembered, and harder around the eyes, but still...it was her. Still beautiful in that sharp edged way that made you notice her even when you didn't want to. That made her irresistible even when you hadn't seen each other in so long.
Her gaze slid across the yard, and you swore you felt it before you even saw it. Your chest tightened like you'd been caught doing something wrong. You felt frozen in your spot. She looked at you and her expression was completely unreadable.
You just looked at each other. No words, no motions, just looking.
Then she turned back to whoever she was talking to before, and you turned away before the gravity between the two of you could pull you closer to her.
You looked for her after that. You couldn't help it. It wasn't obvious, you didn't want people to talk, but you lingered near the training grounds, and took extra long delivering food to the watch posts. Even volunteered for shifts you thought might overlap with hers. But every single time you missed her.
After a few days, you convinced yourself it was for the best that you hadn't seen her. You'd already survived losing her once. You didn't need to open that wound again.
A week later, some woman named Heather decided that Alexandria needed "a night to cut loose" and hosted a decent sized party at one of the pavilions.
Your group got dragged into it by sheer social pressure of being new to the community, and for the first hour you made a real effort. Sipping beer, smiling politely at anyone who looked at you, and letting the music feel the awkward spaces instead of retreating back to the home you were given. But the laughter was too loud and the lights were too damn bright. You weren't used to this kind of thing anymore. You weren't used to letting your guard down and having a little bit of fun.
So you slipped out of the back where no one was standing, letting the night air cool your skin that felt hot and sweaty by being surrounded by so many people. The crickets were loud, but soothing. The laughter coming from the pavilion was muffled, just a faint pulse in the distance. You leaned against one of the wooden posts, watching the sky through a crowd of trees.
It felt good to be away from the press of bodies, from the normal conversations you weren't sure you knew to return anymore.
Footsteps in the grass broke your quiet time.
"You come out here a lot?"
Your chest tightened instantly at the voice. It was lower than you remembered, and smoother, but with that familiar edge that could slice through silence like it was nothing.
You turned, taking a deep breath in.
Rosita was standing there, two beers in one had clinking together. She walked toward you like the distance between you didn't make your heart ache, like the last time you'd spoken hadn't been an ending.
She held out one of the beers to you. "Figured you might need a refill."
You took it, careful not to make any contact with her fingers.
"Thanks."
She nodded toward the pavilion. "Had to find a quiet place, huh? Too many people?"
You huffed a gentle laugh. "The pavilion's a lot better when there's not a party going on. Being alone just listening to the crickets can be... peaceful."
She smirked faintly, leaning on the post beside you. "Yeah. I get that."
The silence between you now wasn't the same as before. This one had history. It was certainly heavy, but not unkind.
"So," she said finally, glancing over at you, "how the hell did you make it this far?"
You shrugged, taking a slow sip of your beer. "Luck, I think. Good people. A few bad decisions here and there that somehow worked out. You?"
"I'd say the same," she said, her eyes drifting toward the trees. "Ran with Abraham and Eugene for a long time, I'm sure you've met them by now. We...saw a lot. Did a lot."
That opened the floodgates.
You told her about the winter in the woods, about the night you almost froze to death because the firewood wouldn't catch no matter what. She told you about walking for days with no food or water, about losing people she didn't have time to properly mourn.
Somewhere between the third and fourth beer, you both started moving. Slow laps around the community, just talking. The air was cool, the houses dark except for the occasional flicker of candlelight.
By the time you realized it, you were standing in front of your place.
You sat on the front steps, and she joined you without asking. She didn't need to. The conversation softened into something more fragile and old.
"Remember our Friday nights?" she asked suddenly.
You smiled before you could stop yourself. "Popcorn, bad action movies, you pretending you hated every single one we watched even though you continued to pick them out."
She smiled lightly, you could tell she was replaying the memories in her mind. "They were tolerable...sometimes."
You both laughed, and the sound felt foreign and familiar at the same time.
She shifted, pulling one knee up, and started telling you a story about the man named Eugene who she survived with, how he'd tried to "optimize" the storage system and ended up collapsing an entire shelf of canned goods. The more she talked, the more animated she got. Her voice rising, her hands gesturing, and her eyebrows furrowing.
God, you missed this. Missed her.
Without thinking, maybe it was the booze or the swelling of old emotions, you reached over and kissed her.
For a heartbeat, she froze. Then her hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The kiss was warm and familiar, beer on her breath, and the faint scent of gun cleaning oil clinging to her clothes. You stayed like that for a long moment, lost in the moment.
When you finally pulled back, you murmured, "I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist. I forgot how cute you are when you ramble about shit that pisses you off."
A laugh slipped from her, soft and genuine. Then, quietly she said, "I missed you. I never stopped thinking about you. I always knew you'd survive in this fucked up world."
You swallowed hard. "I missed you too. I hope maybe... we can get back to where we were before all of this happened."
She held your gaze for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. Me too."
You hesitated, then asked, "Would you... want to spend the night? The bed they gave me is pretty comfortable."
Her smile was small but certain. "Yeah. I'd like that."
Can you make a one shot with prompt 29 and 10? The reader thinks Daryl isn’t very interested anymore and wants Spencer or someone to help her make him jealous and he gets angry and yeah. That would be great!❤️
prompts: 29- "Will you help me make ____ jealous?" 10- "You need to back off."
pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
summary: Daryl is distant after moving to Alexandria, and Y/N can't take it anymore. After Y/N asks Spencer to help her make Daryl jealous, Daryl loses his shit.
warnings: Angsty, but there's comfort at the end. Someone gets punched.
notes: I love Daryl so much. He's literally my favorite character in the whole entire world. Pls PLs PLS send in more requests for him!!!
Before the gates of Alexandria, before the running water and clean clothes, you and Daryl had been in the same rhythm for months.
Life on the road didn't leave room for distance for one another, not the kind that went unspoken. You moved together, fought together, and sat beside each other at the fire made by the group every night. Daryl wasn't exactly a man of many words, but you were quick to learn his quiet ways of speaking. The way he'd nudge a can of beans toward you before eating himself, the his eyes scanned for any potential threats when you walked ahead of him, and the way he'd stand guard a little longer if you were the one sleeping and were next to take the shift. It had been enough.
Now the walls of Alexandria stood tall and clean, and Daryl Dixon might as well have been a ghost to you.
At first you told yourself it was just the adjustment period. The others seemed to be settling well. Rich and Michonne walked the streets like they belonged there, you saw Carl exploring different areas with Judith in her stroller, and Carol dressed in clothes that she had only ever talked to you about wearing. But Daryl... was the same. He'd step inside the house you were assigned long enough to get a drink, or if you nagged at him enough to change his dirty shirt, but then he would just vanish again.
If you caught him in the evenings, his hands would be filthy, his shirt covered with dirt and sweat, and his face more unreadable then it had ever been before.
He didn't sleep close to you anymore. Only on a rare occasion would you wake up to him in the bed with you. Usually, you would find him asleep downstairs on the living couch next to the front door, like he was still on watch.
You knew he didn't trust this place, that was written in his scowl every time Deanna talked about community, and every glance he shot at the open gates when someone went on a supply run.
But it wasn't just Alexandria he was avoiding, it was you, too. And that hurt you more than you could ever admit.
That afternoon you ere at the dining table, cleaning the blade of your knife when the front door creaked opened.
Daryl stepped in with this boots heavy on the floor, and sweet darkening the front of his shirt. His hair was sticking to his forehead in damp strands, and he smelled like pine needles and gasoline.
You didn't look up right away, this was the new normal. "Where were you?"
Daryl didn't miss a beat. "Out."
"Out where?"
"Just out."
You set the knife down harder than you meant to, the metal clinking against the wood. "That's all you ever say anymore. 'Out'. Like I'm supposed to just not care that you disappear outside the walls for hours."
"Ain't nothin' to care about," he muttered, shrugging his bow off of his shoulder.
"It's everything to care about, Daryl. You're never here. I wake up alone, I eat alone, I go to bed alone more than half of the time. I barely see you anymore."
Daryl froze for only a second, then set his crossbow on the floor. "Don't start with me."
"Start what? Asking the man I love where the hell he escapes to all day long?"
His eyes snapped to yours, glaring and squinting. "Ain't about you."
The lack of more than one sentence was starting to get you heated. "It sure feels like it's about me," you shot back. "Feels like maybe you just don't want to be here with me, at all."
That hit him. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened, and how he cracked his neck before he looked away from you.
"I'm goin' for a walk. It's too stuffy in here," he said, his voice final, daring you to argue against it.
And just like that, he was gone again. He picked up his bow again, and his boots were thudding on the porch before you could say anything. The door slamming behind him made you feel like maybe he was never going to come back.
You sat out on the porch steps not long after, your elbows braced on your knees and your head in your hands. The air smelled like fresh cut grass and distant smoke. You tried not to think about how much easier it was for him to walk away than to stay and talk.
Then Spencer Monroe strolled up the sidewalk to your house, to make your day even worse.
"Hey," he called, that lazy and smug tone already getting on your nerves with one word.
You sighed, lifting your head, forcing yourself to respond. "Hi, Spencer."
"Everything okay?" he asked, all false concern, and very bright eyed.
"Fine."
He smirked like he didn't believe you, and was hoping he could shoot his shot with you while you were vulnerable. "You know, if Dixon's too busy sulking to notice how gorgeous you look even when the world is run down, I could-"
Then, mid sentence, a wicked little thought slipped into your mind.
"Spencer," you interrupted, straightening up, "can I ask you for a favor?"
You swore you could see his pupils dilate at the thought of getting able to do anything for you. "Always. What is it?
"Will you help me make Daryl jealous?"
He had a physical startled reaction to that. "Um... are you sure about that? Because I don't think he's the kinda guy who's gonna like that, uh, not that I'm scared of him or anything. He just already doesn't like me much."
"I'm not asking you to propose to me," you said flatly, even though it was amusing to see the cocky asshole seem shaken up at the idea of Daryl being furious at him. "I'm just asking asking you to play along."
He hesitated, then shrugged like his pride wouldn't let him say no, even though he clearly wanted to. "Alright. But you owe me one. I'm serious."
"Oh, I'm sure I will," you said, already thinking ahead about what you could do.
"You know," Spencer said as he cleared his throat, "my folks are throwing a big party tomorrow night. It's their anniversary. The whole community is invited. I think it could be the perfect place to put on a show."
If you could get Daryl to actually come with you, it could actually work. You smiled for the first time that whole day.
"Perfect."
By the next evening, you were upstairs in the bedroom you and Daryl barely shared anymore, sifting through through the closet that was prefilled with clothes from when you first arrived. You found it, a simple red dress, silky and bold, and the fabric felt cool against your fingers.
It felt almost alien to slip into so fancy, so...normal. But when you caught your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but straighten your posture just a little, fully taking your appearance in.
You were adjusting the strap of the dress when the front door creaked open downstairs.
Daryl's boots hit the floorboards, and in seconds he was in the bedroom doorway. His clothes smudged with dirt, sweaty, and greasy hair falling into his face. His eyes swept over you, and his whole expression shifted into something mostly unreadable, but you thought maybe a little dark.
"What's all this?" he asked, his voice low.
"There's a party at Deanna's home," you said without turning to face him. "An anniversary celebration. I'm going to make a good impression for the group."
His lip curled slightly. "It's not our job to kiss ass to these people."
"It's about trying to fit in. About showing we're not just a bunch of wild animals they let in off of the streets."
He chuckled once. "Sounds stupid."
You finally faced him, trying your best not to sound too hopeful. "You could come with me. Be a part of this?"
He shook his head once, and replied flatly. "Nope."
"Fine," you snapped, turning back to the mirror. You knew there was no use in arguing with him. He wasn't even trying to hear you out, or even humor you. You were cursing yourself for even thinking this plan would work. That he would want to accompany you to an outing, be seen with you. That he would act like you two were more than just housemates now.
You brushed your fingers through your hair and could feel the venom that laced your voice. "Stay here and sulk. I'll gone alone. I'm used to it."
But of course he wouldn't stay at the home you were supposed to share. You heard the front door slam before you'd even finished putting your shoes on.
Spencer was waiting outside the Monroe house when you arrived, leaning against the porch railings in a definitely too tight button up shirt.
"Wow," he said, his eyes traveling up and down your body, making you shudder. "You clean up good, Y/N."
"Thanks," you replied shortly.
"Where's Daryl? Thought he was supposed to be the star of tonight?"
"He didn't want to come."
His smirk widened just enough to make your stomach start to turn.
Inside, the place was warm and loud, the air thick with laughter and the smell of wine and home cooked foods. People you didn't know shook your hand, complimented you on your dress and offered you drinks.
Spencer stayed close, brushing against your arm as you moved through the crowd and leaning in close to talk to you over the music.
At one point, while you were chatting with a couple you'd seen walking around the neighborhood before, you felt his arm slide around your waist.
Your body stiffened and went cold. "Spencer-"
He bent his head toward your ear, so close that you could feel his breath on your cheek. "Seems like someone did want to come make an appearance tonight."
You were about to shove him off when you heard his voice. The rough and low voice you had come to love. It was unmistakable.
"Have you seen Y/N tonight?" Daryl was asking Rick somewhere behind you.
Spencer turned you both around just in time for you to see him, standing by the front door with his eyes already locked on to you...and then dropping to Spencer's hand that was still firmly placed on your waist.
Rick caught it too, stepping himself into Daryl's path, trying to get him to calm down and think about what he was doing. But it was useless. Daryl was already moving, and getting closer by the second.
"Y/N!" he barked out, the name slicing through the chatter of the crowd.
He stopped in front of Spencer, finger jabbing hard into his chest. "You need to back off."
You stepped away on instinct, but Spencer just scoffed. Spending the evening with you, and drinking more beers than you could count, had given him some drunken confidence. "Relax. I was just keeping your girl entertained since you didn't want to show up and show her off. I think I might keep testing my luck-"
Before Spencer could finish his last sentence, Daryl's fist connected with his jaw, and Spencer hit the floor almost instantly.
The crack of Daryl's fist meeting Spencer's jaw silenced half of the room. The other half gasped, chairs scraping across the floor, and glasses clanking against tabletops as people shifted away from the commotion.
Spencer laid on the hardwood floor, clutching his jaw, and his eyes wide with shock more than pain.
"Daryl!" Rick's voice cut through the air as he shoved his way forward. He got a had around Daryl's arm just as he looked like he was ready to pounce again. "Outside. Now."
Daryl's breath was ragged, and his chest was rising and falling hard under his, what you noticed, was a clean shirt. His eyes never left Spencer, and you could see the muscle in his jaw ticking.
You mumbled an apology to the nearest cluster of guests before following the two men out, heat flashed across your skin from every single set of eyes in the room that was focused on you.
Rick dragged Daryl out onto the porch, giving him a tough shove towards the steps.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" Rick hissed, the veins in his neck popping out.
Daryl jerked his arm free from Rick's. "What's the matter is that asshole had his hands all over her."
You stepped onto the porch just in time for both of the men to turn in your direction.
"Daryl-" you started, but he was quick to cut you off.
"You lettin' him touch you like that now?" His tone wasn't loud, but the way it cut straight through you made you feel like you could throw up everything in your stomach.
"You weren't here," you shot back. "You're never here! You disappear all day, every single day, and I-"
"This ain't about me-"
"Yes, it is!" You yelled, stepping down the steps, forcing him to meet your eyes. "None of this would've happened if you were just with me instead of running off every damn time I try to talk to you!"
Rick glanced between the both of you like he was weighing whether to stay, but then muttered something under his breath and went back inside to presumably do damage control. Leaving the the porch to you and Daryl alone.
Daryl's gaze darted away from you, like the gravel under his feet were more interesting. "I ain't comfortable here," he muttered. "I don't trust this place."
You shook your head, frowning slightly. "I know don't trust it. I know you hate the walls and the rules and the fake smiles. But that's not the problem, Daryl. The problem is you don't even try. You don't let yourself be here with me. Not really."
His hands flexed at his sides. "It's not 'cause I don't want to be with you."
"Then why? Why do you act like I'm not worth staying around for? Do you know how much that hurts me?"
That got him. The thought of him hurting you wounded him more than you could ever know. His head came up fast, his eyes narrowed. "Only reason I even do stay's 'cause you're here. Cause I know you're safe behind these damn walls from all that shit out there. If you weren't-" He cut himself off, his shoulders tense and taking a deep breath. "Don't matter. Point is, I'm not going anywhere 'cause of you."
You stared at him, the heat in your chest warring with ache in your throat. "You have a hell of a way of showing it."
"Doesn't mean I don't care," he said gruffly. "Just... I ain't good at just sittin' still. It's not right to be this...normal anymore. Feels wrong."
You exhaled slowly. "I just... I feel like you're losing interest in me. Like you're slipping away from me, and one day you're just not going to come back to me."
His jaw worked as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words. Finally he sighed, "I'm not in losin' interest. Ain't ever gonna lose interest in you. I'll...I'll try more. Be better. Just... I don't want you thinkin' I don't care."
It was quiet between the two of you on the way back to the house, but not the same heavy silence that had been hanging between you for weeks. His hand brushed yours once, then stayed there, his fingers curling loosely around your own as you walked the dimly lit streets.
By the time you reached the porch, his thumb was rubbing slow circles against your knuckles, almost like he didn't realize he was doing it. It was the most affection he had showed you since you arrived to Alexandria.
He let you go in the home first, shutting the door behind himself.
In the bedroom, you kicked off your shoes, the red dress sliding against your skin as you moved. Daryl lingered in the doorway watching you for a moment before deciding to step closer.
"You look real good tonight," he said quietly, almost like he didn't want you to hear it.
You smiled faintly. "Thanks. Would've been nice if you'd been there with me."
"Yeah," he admitted. "Would've been nice. Definitely would've looked better with you than that asshole."
When you slid under the covers, he followed close behind, not just lying beside you but pulling you in until your back was against his chest and his arm tight around your waist. He buried his face in your hair and let out a breath that warmed your neck.
For the first time in weeks, you felt his presence not just beside you, but with you.
"You alright now?" he whispered.
"Yeah."
"Good," he said, pressing a light kiss to your bare shoulder. "Not gonna let you feel like that again."
