Slut for Fictional Men

25 (She/Her) Open to requests :) Ao3: Lucy_Dixon

[lucydixon]

Lucy | 25 | (She/Her/) | Multi-fandom Writer | Requests are Closed I love yapping!! y'all are free to ask me questions or message me about anything. I'm a retired party girl, and like to incorporate some of the things that I've experienced into my writing.

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[lucydixon]

A Spark in the Silence

Daryl Dixon Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Requests 𐴱 More Girl Nextdoor!Reader AU

Summary: You can't help but notice Daryl in class and make a split second decision when the kid in the seat next to you has something to say.

In homeroom, you couldn’t help but stare when Daryl walked in. 

No hood today. 

He was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt.

And- Christ.

You felt your mouth go dry as your eyes trailed down his arms. They were toned and straining against the sleeves of his shirt. Your gaze traveled back up to his face where you could clearly see a fading bruise on the left side of his face as he passed, eyes glued to the ground as he walked. 

You wondered if he had any friends or even maybe a girlfriend that Maggie didn’t know about. You sure as hell hoped not on the girlfriend front, but acknowledged inside of your own head that it was none of your business what Daryl Dixon got up to in his spare time. 

A boy sitting in the next row over made a comment that you had hardly heard and snickered to his friend.

You’d only been able to clearly make out the words ‘Dixon’ and ‘loser’.

Your head snapped to the side and before Maggie could stop you, you'd snatched up and tossed her eraser at the boy's head with as much force as you could muster. 

The corners of your mouth curled upwards as you watched it bounce off his temple and fly out of view, hitting the floor with a satisfying smack. 

He, and several other students, including your friend, stared back at you, slack-jawed. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little fucking rude?” You said lowly, glaring at him. 

“I-I Just-” the boy stammered, clutching his head and obviously not used to anyone being so blunt with him. 

“Shut up.” you muttered, facing the front with your arms crossed over your chest just in time to watch the teacher stroll into class, oblivious to your outburst.

“What the hell was that?” Maggie hissed, smacking your arm lightly.

“He deserved it,” you argued, shooting another harsh look the boy's way. “Fucking asshole” 

“Sure, but damn” She shook her head, trying to hide her amusement. “I think you scared the hell outta him.” 

If you’d looked, you would’ve caught Daryl staring intently at the back of your head, unable to decide if he was annoyed by your outburst, or amused. 

There was something in him that liked the attention, although, he’d vehemently deny it if anyone would have made a comment. He’d been seeing you out on the porch more and more and he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t curious. It was a quiet curiosity that had been firmly planted in his chest from the second that he’d laid eyes on you.

He didn’t understand why you were getting into his business.

Why did you care if that guy had something to say about him? He didn’t want it to look like he needed some girl to fight his battles for him, but the look on the kid's face was enough to bring a soft smirk to his own.

On his way out of class, He picked the eraser up off the ground and set it down on your desk while you gathered your things.

Your eyes met and you blinked at each other for a moment.

“Think ya dropped this.” He rasped, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. 

You smiled and opened your mouth to speak but before you could formulate a thought, he was gone.

You turned to Maggie, who looked just as surprised by the event, and tucked your hair behind your ears with pink cheeks. 

“Oh my god, did you see that?” you hissed, standing. 

“I mean,” Maggie scoffed, following you out into the hall “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen him do anything close to smiling.” 

“But that doesn’t really mean anything, does it?” you sighed, hugging your books to your chest “Do you think I should try and talk to him next time I see him?” 

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” Maggie said honestly “But that definitely was something.” 

“Right?” you smiled, “I’m gonna do it.” 

Pretty late, a few days later, you saw Daryl walking past your house and away from his own. 

Afraid he’d see you anyway and think you were stalking him or something, you cleared your throat and watched him freeze in his tracks. 

“You want a cigarette?” you asked quietly, just loud enough to carry across the yard without drawing attention. You’d seen him smoking a few times and figured that this was the most subtle way to grab his attention.

Daryl’s eyes darted from your front porch and the orange glow of your already-lit smoke to the road, contemplating. 

The lack of light offered enough cover that you might not see how swollen his face was, but it was a risk nonetheless. He’d been jonesing for a smoke before he’d even gotten home that afternoon, dismayed to find that Merle and his father were both out and struggled to find the resolve to turn your down.

Part of him wanted badly to know why the hell you’d thrown that eraser, but there was no way he could ask you without sounding at least a little interested.

Fuck it. 

Instead of answering, he just joined you on the porch, taking the pack and lighter from your outstretched hand, and sat up on the banister without a word.

“You ain’t afraid of your folks seein’ ya smokin’ out here?” He asked finally when the silence grew too comfortable. 

“No.” you shrugged “Pretty hard to notice if they aren’t here” 

If it hadn’t been so dark you would have seen that your answer had surprised Daryl. You looked pretty normal and even he knew that most people’s parents didn’t leave them alone for more than a weekend. 

He’d seen you smoking outside too many times to write it off as a one-time thing. 

“It’s just me and my dad” you explained after a too-long pause “He works a lot” 

“He work at a fuckin’ gas station or something?” Daryl asked, confused. What the hell kind of job was he working at night?

“No,” you laughed, unable to help yourself. “He’s a trucker. Usually comes home after a couple weeks, depending on how far out he’s got to go.” 

“He buy you smokes?” He rasped.

“God no,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “I buy ‘em at the quick stop on Maple.” 

“The gas station?” Daryl asked with a furrowed brow, turning towards your slightly “They didn’t card ya?” 

“Nope.” you grinned “Never tried to buy your own cigarettes?” 

“Nah,” He shook his head, looking a little bewildered. “Always figured they’d turn me down” 

The movement made his swollen eye visible and you did your very best not to stare.

“Well,” you smiled softly “You should try it sometime.” 

“Not that I mind sharing.” you added quickly, with pink cheeks. 

Daryl didn’t ask any more questions. 

He didn’t thank you for the cigarette either. He just stood and left you sitting there without a word. 

In homeroom the next morning, Daryl sat in the second to last row instead of his usual seat in the back, closer to you. It very well might’ve had nothing to do with the night before, but your mood noticeably improved regardless.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Maggie had asked tiredly from next to you, resting her head in her hands. 

“Nothing.” you smiled softly to yourself. “Just have a feeling. It’s gonna be a good day.” 

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[lucydixon]

Drunk Walk Home

Daryl Dixon Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Requests 𐴱 More Girl Nextdoor!Reader AU

Summary: Riding home from the party with Merle, Daryl gets the fright of his life when you step out onto the road. Warning: Risky behaviour, Passively suicidal actions

Daryl had never been a big fan of climbing into his father's truck with a drunken Merle in the driver's seat.

He'd offered once to drive them home after a party, not having had as much to drink that night as his older brother, and had been cuffed upside the head and laughed at for even suggesting it.

It was a lot easier to just let Merle do whatever he wanted and be glad he had a ride at all. So, Daryl never brought it up again.

The next time he'd been dragged out for a night of drinking with one of his brother's buddies, Merle clipped a post on the way home and the two of them had gotten out of the truck wordlessly and stared at the chipped paint for a full minute. It wasn't a big dent, but the paint was scraped down to the metal and the damage was glaringly obvious.

They'd both caught a lashing for that one, but Merle had been a lot more careful about driving drunk after that night, so Daryl hadn't put much thought into it since.

He'd been a little distracted that night.

The interaction the two of you had in the kitchen at that party, regardless of how short it had been, was plaguing his thoughts relentlessly.

He could admit to himself that you were pretty. That he'd spent a little more time watching you over the last few weeks than was normal.

But, who wouldn't?

He'd spent most of his life without anyone living in the house next door. It was only natural for him to be curious about you.

It wasn't often that people moved into the rural town. Just about everyone he'd ever met had been chomping at the bit to get the hell out of Senoia.

He wondered where you got your cigarettes.

He'd spent the last few years plucking the odd one out of Merle's packs, sometimes his father's if he was feeling brave, but you seemed to always have a pack in your hand.

You were out on that porch of yours smoking at all hours of the night and had to be going through at least a pack a day, which must've cost you a pretty penny.

Where did you get your cigarette money?

If your family had enough for you to chain smoke 24/7, why did you live on his run-down block? There were only three houses out that far in the woods. His, yours, and the burnt remains of his childhood home.

He hadn't actually seen your family.

He'd seen a man the day you'd moved in and there was a truck in the driveway every so often.

He wondered if your parents worked odd hours.

Daryl had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost missed the figure stepping out onto the road less than 50 yards in front of the truck barreling through the night.

"Merle stop!" He shouted, heart pounding in his chest as he flung his first into his brother's arm.

The elder Dixon slammed on the breaks, jerking them both forward in their seats as the truck skidded to a stop.

The two of them were wide eyed and breathing heavy, blinking at the empty road in front of them.

"What in the goddamn-" Merle immediately started cursing, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Before he could finish his sentence, Daryl was out of the truck and inspecting the pavement, half-expecting to see a body under the still-idling vehicle.

But there was nothing.

Over the sound of the old engine, he could faintly hear what sounded like hysterical laughter, only growing louder as time went on.

By then, Merle had gotten out of the truck and was grumbling under his breath as he followed his brother to the roadside, where you were laying in the dirt, chuckling to yourself.

Daryl was stunned. He’d watched you step out into the road. you must've dive rolled out of the way just in time to avoid becoming a stain of the pavement.

He wondered what the hell was going through your head while you were standing there waiting for the truck to plow right into you. 

“Aw, Jesus Christ.” Merle groaned, clearly annoyed by having to stop “See? She’s fine. Didn’t even hit ‘er” 

“Probably gave her a fuckin’ concussion or somethin’” Daryl grumbled, crouching down to scowl at you and your bloodied knees. 

“Hey.” Merle nudged you with the end of his boot. “You good Doll face?” 

You took a deep breath, trying to stop laughing, and nodded. 

“Well, there ya go.” He gestured towards you with an impatient look.

“You need a ride or somethin’?” Daryl offered stiffly, which Merle made no effort to encourage and instead groaned in frustration. 

A part of him wanted you to say no. He knew full well that it would be awkward as all hell riding back to the neighbouring houses with you wedged in between the two of them on the bench seat.

“Said ya live on Hartley, Right?” 

“Yeah.” you frowned, suddenly looking embarrassed. “It ain’t far, I’m good to walk” 

You pulled yourself to your feet without either of the brother's even thinking to offer you a hand up, and swayed a little, seemingly more aware of the fact that you were outnumbered by two men on a dark street. 

“I’d better go,” you muttered, walking past both of them and their truck. 

Daryl clocked the sudden shift in your demeanour. You'd clearly recognized them for what they were and wanted to get the hell away. He didn’t blame you, if anything, it was the most normal thing he’d seen you do up until that point.

He found himself wondering where the sudden burst of survival instinct had come from after walking out onto the road like that.

You didn’t turn until you were far enough that you'd be able to sprint for the trees if you needed to. When you did, you were grinning. 

“Hey!” you shouted “Y’all really shouldn’t be drivin’ after that much drinkin’. Coulda killed somebody.” 

You chuckled under your breath and veered off into the trees while Merle barked out a drunken laugh, clamping a hand down on his brother's shoulder.

"See?" He gave him a good shove towards the truck "Told ya, she's fine. Nuts, but fine."

Daryl watched you go, shaking his head. 

He sat perched in his window until he saw you emerge from the woods an hour later, following the orange tip of your cigarette up to your porch before falling back onto his bed with a sigh.

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[lucydixon]

Too Cool to Notice

Daryl Dixon Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Requests 𐴱 More Girl Nextdoor!Reader AU

Summary: You attend a house party to kick off the school year with Maggie, and find yourself intrigued by a familiar looking boy and his older brother. Warning: Underage drinking

You 'd spent a full hour fussing over what to wear before settling on a denim skirt, a black tank top and your hot pink cowboy boots, knowing full-well that they made you look insane.

It had been a point of contention inside your head. Two sides of you going back and fourth, trying to decide if you wanted to lay low and keep any and all attention off of you, or bask in the curious stares like you would have the year before.

You'd stared at yourself in the mirror for half an hour after getting ready, feeling yourself slip back into the numbness that had seemed to consume you whenever you thought about life before losing the two people closest to you.

In the end, you'd had to run the bathroom tap until the water was boiling hot and stuck your hand under it in an effort to shock your system back to normal.

It took two pulls from one of the whiskey bottles on top of your fridge to get out the door once you got a handle on yourself.

The long, dark stretch of rural road seemed endless on the way to the party. Luckily, Maggie had slid a crudely-drawn map across the cafeteria table that day at lunch after you'd adamantly turned down a ride from her older brother, unsure you wanted her to see how run down your house was. You could just barely make out the details in the moonlight.

Maggie was standing out front when you got there and frowned when she caught sight of the cigarette dangling from your lips, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Those thing’s’ll kill ya.” She tsk’ed, only half joking as she pulled you in for a brief, but unexpected hug. 

You rolled your eyes and put it out on the sole of your boot, carefully tucking it back into the half-full pack. 

The girl had gasped loudly and taken an abrupt step back to look down at your feet before you could so much as tuck the carton back into your bag. “I love your boots! Where did you get them?”

“My birthday a couple years ago” you smiled, feeling a slight pang in your heart as you recalled how excited your mother had been to watch you unwrap the expertly wrapped gift. 

It had been clear that she'd seen your smile grow strained. That she'd clocked the stutter in your heart rate somehow. But, Maggie was kind enough not to mention it and ushered you inside instead, excitedly rambling about the promise of free liquor clearly highlighted on the invitation.

Despite having known Maggie for less than a week, you found yourself hoping desperately that the friendship would stick.

The two of you ducked inside the house, glancing around the packed room and sharing nervous, but excited smiles as you took in the state of the party.

There was easily a hundred people milling around the house in various states of intoxication.

The music blaring through the speakers in the living room was near-deafening and you found yourself popping your jaw as you followed Maggie towards the kitchen. 

You were immediately introduced to Lisa, a tall, gorgeous blonde who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else as she sat perched on the dining room table. Despite her initially bored demeanour, she’d enthusiastically greeted you both before mixing up a horrid concoction of liquor and juice that you'd chugged as soon as the cup was slapped into your hand. 

As the mixed drink combined with the dwindling effects of the whiskey you’d had before leaving your house, your nerves fizzled out completely and you felt more at ease than you had in months. 

“Slow down!” Maggie had laughed, shaking her head in mock-disapproval as she palmed her own drink “She pours heavy.” 

You just shot her a toothy grin and took a second drink from Lisa with a shrug, listening as the girls gave you the rundown on the rest of the party goers. 

Within a few hours, you were pretty sure that you could point out every couple in the room and spout a lengthy list of gossip you’d absorbed about each one. You were having a great time and found yourself infinitely grateful that Maggie wanted to be your friend and had invited you in the first place. 

Lisa was a little snarky, but was kind enought to you throughout the night, continuing to play bartender and mixing the three of you outrageously strong drinks.

You were all well passed buzzed and giggling as you played ‘smash or pass’, trying to be discreet.

“I can’t believe you don’t think he’s cute-” Maggie had sounded horrified after you'd ‘passed’ on a boy who had graduated two years prior, but froze as more people came in through the door.

“Oh great” She scoffed “The Dixons are here” 

You followed Maggie’s narrowed eyes to the two newest partygoers, surprised to find the boy you'd seen in your neighbourhood a few times since you'd moved, accompanied by a taller man who had to have been his brother.

Even from across the room, you could see just how blue their eyes were. 

Aside from having ten years on the younger Dixon, the taller of the two had his hair buzzed almost clean to the skin in what looked like a military haircut. His gait was confident and relaxed as he sauntered his way through the crowd, openly leering at girls and roughly nudging any obstacles in his way

The younger one’s hair was just as long as it had been days before, somehow blonde although you could have sworn it had looked brown when you saw him stomping off into the trees. It was hard not to notice the mole on his cheek and the way he hadn’t once raised his head high enough to make eye contact with anyone.

Despite the hair blocking most of his face, from what you could see, he was cute. 

Real cute.

“Smash.” you muttered under your breath.

“I’ll save you the trouble,” your new friend looked horrified by the comment “Those two are bad news. Best steer clear.” 

“Unless you want a joint,” Lisa interjected before taking a large swig of her drink, “Merle Dixon sells the best weed in town.” 

“Yeah,” Maggie rolled her eyes “And god knows what else.” 

“Which one’s Merle?” you asked, still blatantly staring at the brothers who by that point, had made their way to the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. 

“The older one.” Maggie nudged you to break your gaze “Quit staring!” 

“I’m just looking” you rolled your eyes “What about the other one?” 

“That’s Daryl.” Lisa shrugged, “He’s supposed to be in our grade, but hardly shows up to class.” 

“I think they might be my neighbors or something,” you said absently, allowing your eyes to wander back over to the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure I saw Daryl the other day.” 

“I hope not for your sake,” Maggie said seriously, pulling your attention “Everybody knows that their dad’s a drunk” 

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Lisa added, watching Merle smack the red solo cup out of some poor kid's hand and start downing whiskey straight out of the bottle. 

Daryl was leaning back on the counter, looking like he really didn’t want to be there, which only made him seem more mysterious.

Maggie and Lisa seemed to have dropped the Dixons as a conversation topic, delving into a detailed account of the previous years grad prank that had been, as Lisa described it, ‘legendary’. You struggled to stay focused, offering halfhearted laughs here and there, fixated on the younger Dixon across the kitchen. 

Eventually, you excused yourself to the bathroom, insisting that you didn’t need them to come along.

On your way back, you couldn’t help but wonder if Lisa had been serious when she’d said that Merle sold weed. 

You’d tried smoking pot for the first time a few weeks before while packing up Joey’s room. There had been a jar of weed at the back of his sock drawer and you had stared at it for what felt like hours before trying to roll yourself a joint. 

You’d used a page torn out of the bible your mother had gotten you as a child, no longer wanting anything to do with god or church. 

If god was so great, how could he have let this happen? How could he have taken your mother and Joey?

The joint was a pitiful thing. Loose and unsealed, no filter or anything to keep you from inhaling chunks of poorly ground bud, which, of course, is exactly what happened. 

You thought you might like it if you had been able to figure it out on your own, and found yourself contemplating if it was worth asking. You hadn’t really enjoyed it the last time, but you’d do anything to outrun the grief you was fighting to keep at bay.

Surely you’d be able to pay him an extra dollar to roll you a joint. 

Your eyes tracked the younger Dixon’s movement in a blatant stare as you took your sweet time getting back to your friends, hoping that, just once, he’d meet your gaze. 

When he did, it had lasted half a second before he was looking away, eyes hidden by his long hair. You frowned, wondering what his deal was. The way the girls had talked about him made him out to be some kind of psycho. Always fighting and abrasive, never one to keep any friends around. 

You just couldn’t help it. 

Surely you weren’t the only person in this town intrigued by his mysterious demeanor. Daryl was a good-looking kid and that whole dark and stormy thing he had going on was beyond enticing. 

You tried not to look so obvious when you went into the kitchen under the guise of pouring yourself another drink.

You'd nodded cooly to the younger Dixon, reaching next to him for a half-full bottle of vodka. 

You’d gotten so close to brushing up against Daryl that he’d caught a whiff of your perfume, flooded with the smell of vanilla as he leaned slightly further from you.

He’d felt you staring throughout the night and wondered why, sneaking glances of his own when you weren’t looking. 

He didn't speak, but he did look back at you. 

“I think we live on the same street.” you continued, filling your cup with two fingers of clear liquor and introducing yourself “I just moved into the grey house.” 

“Daryl,” he muttered, taking a long sip from the beer in his hand. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in your ridiculous boots with slight amusement, well-masked by his scowl. 

If he'd been a bit braver, he might've told you that he’d already known that you lived on the same street. Although, he had not intention of ever letting you find out that he’d been periodically watching you sit on your porch and smoke from his bedroom window. The last thing he needed was for some chick to go around telling everyone he was being a creep.

At least now he knew your name.

When he didn’t make any further attempt to talk to you, you took the hint and wandered off, slightly discouraged, but not before calling a ‘nice to meet you’ over your shoulder first. You could feel his eyes on the back of your head as you downed the last of your drink and tossed the empty cup into the garbage bin across the room. 

Once you cleared the corner, you steadied yourself, lightheaded. 

You’d always had a problem knowing when to stop but figured this was about as clear of an indicator as you’d get. If you stayed any longer, you’d keep drinking and surely embarrass yourself.

You found Maggie and Lisa and said your goodbyes, zipping up your coat on your way to the door. 

“How are you getting home?” Maggie caught you by the wrist as you was leaving, glancing at you with concern. 

“I’m gonna walk?” you answered slowly “Ain’t very far” 

“My brother Shawn is coming to pick us up in an hour, do you want to come with us? I bet he wouldn’t mind dropping you off.” 

“No thanks,” you smiled politely, trying not to look too drunk, and gave her a half nod before turning on your heel. “I like to walk.” 

“Are you sure?” Maggie called after you “It’s really no trouble!” 

“I’m good” You shouted back without turning around “I’ll see you Monday” 

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[lucydixon]

OH MY GOD LUCY HI YOU'RE ALIVE THE INTERNET HAS MISSED YOU

GLAD TO BE BACK! I've missed the internet too <3

[lucydixon]

Girl Nextdoor!Reader Backstory Headcanons

Daryl Dixon Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Requests 𐴱 More Girl Nextdoor!Reader AU A/N - This is the first thing I've written in months so be nice 😭

Summary: A little context to better understand how we got here and learn what makes our girl tick. Warnings: Grief, Self harm, Neglect, Loss of a parent, Loss of a sibling, underage drinking, underage smoking

꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who lost her mother and older brother in an accident and is drowning in grief.

꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who is left to live with her never home, truck-driver father, who isn't doing much better and isn't used to actually parenting. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who is uprooted and moved to Senoia Georgia the summer before her Junior year of high school. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who finds herself living in the middle of nowhere, on a street with 3 broken down-looking houses, and a neighbour around her age she only sees in passing. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who quickly grows used to being left at home for weeks at a time with a wad of cash while her father works all over the country. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who picks up smoking less than a week after moving and smokes herself hoarse every night for a week. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who can't get out of bed some days. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who puts her cigarettes out on the inside of her arm when she needs to remind herself that she's real. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who hates being alone but is stuck in a quiet tomb. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who used to love reading, but can no longer get through a paragraph without feeling suffocated. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who's father sees his late wife in her face and can't stand the sight of her when he is home between jobs. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who polishes off whatever's left of the whiskey the second her father walks out the door and crawls up the stairs to hide under the covers. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who is immediately taken under Maggie Greene's wing on the first day of school and finds herself feeling something other than grief for the first time in months. ꩜ Girl Nextdoor!Reader, who can't help but stare at the mysterious neighbour boy.

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[lucydixon]

Daryl Dixon x Girl Nextdoor!Reader AU

Daryl Dixon Masterlist 𐴱 Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Reading List 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Moodboard side-Blog 𐴱 How to make a Request

This was originally going to be a long fic, but I had too many random scenes to bother tying them all together. So, instead, y'all are getting this AU, where I'll post little bits and pieces of the story. I'll keep this masterlist in chronological order for you, but I might post out of order in real time <3

Legend: ཐི♡ཋྀ NSFW 𐴱 𓆩♡𓆪 SFW 𐴱 𓆩♱𓆪 Angst 𐴱 𓆩✿𓆪 Fluff

✦ Girl Nextdoor!Reader Backstory Headcanons A little context to better understand how we got here and learn what makes our girl tick. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪 ✦ Too Cool To Notice You attend a house party to kick off the school year with Maggie, and find yourself intrigued by a familiar looking boy and his older brother. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 ✦ Drunk Walk home On your walk home from the party, you find yourself feeling a little reckless when you see headlights coming towards you. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon x Merle Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 ✦ Trust Worn like a Bandage Your neighbour/sometimes friend turns up after a fight in rough shape and reluctantly lets you help tend to his wounds. Girl Nextdoor!Reader x Teenage!Daryl Dixon 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪 ✦ Nightmare Daryl finds out you've been hurting yourself for months and is terrified that he's going to lose you to your own hand. He has a fitful sleep that ends with him gasping awake and reaching for you in the dark of your room Teenager!Daryl Dixon x Neighbour!Reader 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪

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[lucydixon]

Delete the posts about my pelle, you wretched whore.

Nah, I think I'm good. Don't send out non-anonymous asks if you don't wanna get read to filth.

xoxo <3

[lucydixon]

You fucking whore, Pelle Ohlin is mine, you bitch, die raped.

Jesus Christ. 💀

[lucydixon]

Hey besties, Long time no talk. This is probably the longest I've gone without writing in years. It's certainly the longest I've gone without posting since I started this blog. Obviously, I bailed on March of pain halfway through and haven't posted since. A lot of you have reached out over the last couple months with no response.

I don't know if I triggered myself with all the angst, or what, but I slacked a little on some of my meds and went off the rails for a second there. Worry not, though! I am back on track and keeping my shit together. I will not be resuming March of pain and haven't written anything in over a month. I don't know when I'll have new material for you guys, but I do have a bunch of snippets from the Teenage!Daryl Dixon x Girl Nextdoor!Reader AU sitting in my drafts. Let me know if you guys want to see them and I'll start posting. Outside of those, I likely wont be posting much until I'm back to writing regularly.

Thank you to everyone who was checking in, I'm sorry for disapearing. Love, Lucy.

[lucydixon]

Hey! Really fucking random but Im look for a specific blog and I remember the old user which was childOfeden. I'm asking you because when I searched it up an old post of yours popped up. Do you know the new name of the account? Thanks so much lol

Bestie, I hate to tell you, but I think she deleted her blog. None of my links to her posts work anymore, and I haven't been able to find her blog for months at this point. If I'm wrong and you end up finding it, please let me know!

[lucydixon]

Girl I love your writing but you stop doing LOC fics and when you do it’s like..only agnst like don’t get me wrong I kinda like it but could we get some happier stuff?

Babe I’m doing March of pain 😭 everything I’m dropping lately is angst.

Fair tho, I’m sure I’ll do some fluff when it’s over as a treat <3

[lucydixon]

Hey I'm new here

I was wondering if you could write a Faust oneshot

He taking care of her after an episode of heavy $h

I'm going through a really bad time in my life And I found comfort in him, and in your writings here

I really like your writing and the way you organize everything so neatly <3

XOXO♡

Techinically, I'm not taking LOC requests rn, but because of March of pain, I had to do it. It's not too heavy, but I hope it helps even a little.

<3

[lucydixon]

A Dose of Reality

March of Pain 2026 Masterlist | Clyde Masterlist | Rory Culkin Masterlist | Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Pinned Post

A/N: Fun fact, I've had to use Narcan easily over a hundred times, and let me tell you. That shit is like magic. The first time I used it, I was alone, shaking like a leaf and near tears, but holy shit. Watching it work was so fucking cool. If you don't know anything about Naloxone, I'd highly suggest looking into it. Especially if you or anyone around you is using any kind of drugs.

Summary: Clyde finds you unresponsive after experimenting with harder drugs for the first time. He finds himself having to Narcan you and perform CPR. Warning: Angst, Drug use, Drug overdose, CPR and rescue breaths, Brief mention of a needle, Overdose reversal, Whump.

This is Day 16 of my March of Pain writing challenge, where I post a whump piece inspired by a list of prompts every day. Prompt: Overdose WC: 578 Words

It was a little too quiet when Clyde came to.

The two of you had been up late partying and he'd passed out not long after you'd shut your eyes. It didn't feel like he'd gotten much sleep though.

His eyes swept across the room, landing on the red glow of the alarm clock accross the room.

3am on the dot.

Christ, he'd barely gotten two hours.

You'd both popped a handful of pills a few hours before. An assortment of unlabeled tablets that were cheap enough that he hadn't asked many questions. The effects had been immediate. You'd started nodding off and Clyde had managed to drag you to bed before you passed out.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face and turned towards you.

The first thing he'd noticed was the soft rattling sound coming from your throat.

Your lips were blue.

You were breathing, but just barely.

"Shit." Clyde breathed, shaking you by the shoulders roughly. "Baby, wake up."

You were limp in his arms.

"C'mon." He muttered, dragging his knuckles over your sternum hard enough to bruise.

You didn't flinch.

"No, no, no" his eyes darted from your face to the door frantically before he decided to start shouting.

"Help!" He screamed, still trying to draw some kind of response from you "I need some help in here!"

Johnny burst into the room only moments later, looking panicked and sleep rumpled.

"What are you-" He started, but trailed off when he saw what was happening "Oh."

"She won't wake up!" Clyde was sure he was crying, but couldn't find it in him to care "I don't-"

"Narcan kit." Johnny's brain seemed to reboot and within a half second, he was sprinting back down the hall.

Clyde was glad that someone else was able to do the thinking.

You'd stopped breathing altogether by the time he came back and Clyde had started to give you CPR clumsily in his panic. He had to pause his efforts when Johnny tore back into the room, fumbling with his cellphone.

He was quick to tear open the Narcan kit as soon as it hit the matress beside him, shouting for Johnny to call 9-1-1.

He managed to snap the top off of the ampule, but his hands were shaking too badly to get the needle into it.

He knew how to use it. you all did. But knowing in theory, and actually having to use it on someone he loved were entirely different.

"I-" He sobbed, trying so hard to focus while Johnny rambled to the 9-1-1 operator, trying to give them a picture of what was going on. "I can't get it!"

"Fuck," He sucked in a breath and forced himself to focus, finally managing to draw up the lifesaving medication.

"C'mon, baby." Clyde muttered under his breath as he plunged the needle into your thigh, rubbing the skin hard after the spring pulled the needle into the syringe. "Come back to me."

"It's not working." He breathed shakily, going back to doing chest compresions and rescue breaths "Jesus, fuck. It isn't fucking working."

"Give her another one." Johnny called out instructions from the dispatcher on the other side of the line.

All Clyde could do was nod and try again to draw up a dose, hitting you in the arm this time.

It only took fifteen seconds for you to sit up suddenly, gasping for air like a switch had been flipped.

Dividers and Banners by me. for more graphics, check out my side-blog @dividers-are-us Taglist:@maxxiemoa @electrifiedphylacterysaga @lofied @iith1um @somegirl29 @slvt4subchratt

[lucydixon]

The Colour of Pain

March of Pain 2026 | Faust Masterlist | LOC Masterlist | Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Pinned Post 𐴱 Moodboard side-Blog | Requests

Summary: You're having a tough time after finding Pelle, Faust finds you after you've hurt yourself and takes care of you. Warnings: Angst, Self harm, Mentions of suicide, Blood, Whump

This is Day 15 of my March of Pain writing challenge, where I post a whump piece inspired by a list of prompts every day. Prompt: Self Harm WC: 981 Words

You'd been struggling since you'd found Pelle.

You knew it. Faust knew it. Everyone did.

You'd moved out of the house immediately. Same day. Just, packed your shit and ran until you found a soft place to land.

Your soft place had been Faust's couch. It was the first place you could think of that made you feel safe.

Since the two of you had first crossed paths a few months before, there had been something building between the two of you. You flirted and Faust tried, but was too shy to do much more than blush and knock his shoulder into yours. You'd never had a friend who you'd been so touchy with, or who was equally touchy back.

You didn't want to be Faust's friend.

You wanted to come home to him at night and lie in bed together. To build a life away from the bloodied attic of the house out in the woods.

But, you'd kind of shut down after that day. It wouldn't have been fair to let things progress with Faust while you were crashing on his couch. You were carrying too much grief, and weren't thinking straight.

So, you left.

You moved into a shoebox apartment above a bakery and shut yourself inside for days at a time.

Sometimes, Faust came over. Others, it was the rest of the boys, trying to coax you out to a gig or to the pub down the street. You wouldn't go though. It was hard enough to force yourself to go to work. There was no way you'd be able to manage a crowded room, even if your friends were there with you.

Being alone so often gave you too much time to think.

You thought about how you'd ruined whatever had been budding between you and Faust by pushing him away. How the phone calls checking in on you were becoming less and less frequent, not that you ever picked up when it rang. You were pretty sure Faust was the only one still calling.

The night hadn't started any differently than every other since you heard that gun go off down the hall.

You'd grabbed a bottle of wine on your way home from work and collapsed, face down on your couch for an hour, not sleeping, but not entirely awake either.

You ate a peanut butter and jam sandwhich for dinner and washed it down with the entire bottle of merlot.

But then, your arm started to itch.

For some reason, you thought of the way Pelle used to drag a blade over his skin. The blood that would drip down his arm until it dried, or you wiped it away. He'd never really had a straight answer for you when you asked why. would just shrug and mutter something about checking if he was still alive. If there was still blood flowing through his veins.

You weren't so sure in that moment that you were alive. That blood flowed beneath the surface of your skin.

You felt for a pulse, two fingers pressed against the side of your throat. Sure enough, there was a steady thump. Maybe a little faster than usual.

But, it didn't reassure you like you thought it might. It wasn't enough. You needed to know for sure. Needed to feel as close to your friend as you possibly could in your grief.

You weren't even really thinking when you stumbled into the bathroom, rifling through the medicine cabinet clumsily, knocking everything off the side of the sink as you went.

Your fingers wrapped around the packet of razor blade refills on the top shelf and you let out a soft sigh of relief, sinking to the floor in a daze.

You hadn't heard Faust come in.

While he'd been helping you move, he'd swiped the spare key right in front of you and you had never said anything. He hadn't used it before, though. In your mind, it was so you could call him if you ever locked yourself out. But, to him, it had clearly come from a place of concern.

He found you sitting on the bathroom floor, staring wide eyed at a large gash on your forearm after knocking for far too long without a response.

If you hadn't looked so surprised by the obviously self-inflicted wound, he might've felt a spark of anger beneath his concern. Faust hated that you'd locked yourself away. That you weren't letting him worry about you or help. You weren't even picking up the phone anymore.

He wasn't sure what had prompted him to come see you in the first place. It had been like you'd tugged on a cord connected to his heart from accross town. Like his body knew when yours was hurting.

Faust thought abuot saying something.

Maybe asking you what had happened despite it being very much obvious once he'd seen the bloodied blade laying on the tile.

He knew that if he did ask, you wouldn't answer him.

You'd barely flinched when he gently pulled you to your feet and out of the bathroom so he could park you on the couch with a tea towel wrapped around your wrist.

Instead of asking, he waited patiently for your eyes to focus and spark alive with recognition when you finally snapped out of it. The question was clear in his own gague. More of a 'why didn't you call me?' then a 'why did you do it?'. He knew why you'd done it. Knew what it was like to spiral and need a tether.

Your bottom lip shook, and gave him a look so full of guilt and pain that he couldn't bring himself to make you speak. He settled for pulling you into his lap and holding you close until you'd cried yourself out.

Only then, did you let him properly take care of you.

Dividers and Banners by me. for more graphics, check out my side-blog @dividers-are-us Taglist: @maxxiemoa @rhadnjv @slvt4subchratt @vio-2100 @shokihomin

[lucydixon]

Lucy babe I love your writing, I think I've read all of your works!

I just now started posting my writings too (for totally different fandom) and as my fav writer here I wanna ask - do you have any tips for beginners? No matter what kind of advice, I'll have anything. Cause seems like posting here is much different experience than just writing for yourself and I'm a bit self conscious ;(

Glad you're liking my stuff, bestie <3 Sorry for the late reply, I've been all over the place lately. When I started sharing fanfics, I was on AO3 for years before shifting to Tumblr. I'd always written long fics before, but discovering one-shots and headcanons opened up a whole new world of inspiration for me. I started writing for a multitude of fandoms and have really enjoyed myself. I was terrified to post my first fic. Looking back on it now, it's nowhere near as good as anything on this blog, and I've considered deleting my earlier AO3 posts many times out of self-consciousness. I'm glad I didn't, and I probably never will. It's really cool to look back and see your progress over time. People still occasionally engage with them, and a few really seem to have liked them. When I started moving towards tumblr, I posted a one shot for the first time just to see if anyone cared, and it sort of spiralled from there. I've heard a lot of people say that you shouldn't care about engagement, and just write for yourself. Hell, I think I may have even said it a few times. As much as I'd like to not care, I do. Engagement isn't everything, but it's a huge motivator when you can see that people like what you're putting out into the world. Its a good way to meet people in your fandoms and make friends with your moots. Even when there was one or two people interacting with my fics, it made me want to keep writing. What I'm really trying to say is, just go for it. Make your blog anonymous like mine and post something you've written, tag it so that people can see it, and see what happens. The only reason I feel confident posting as much as I do is knowing that none of you actually know who I am. It's a safe space, and anyone who disturbs it can easily be blocked. Post your fics, babe. I don't think you'll regret it.

PS. DM me or something, I'd love to check out your stuff when you do start posting <3

[lucydixon]

March of Pain 2026 Masterlist | Mike Masterlist | Rory Culkin Masterlist | Main Masterlist 𐴱 Taglist 𐴱 Pinned Post A/N : This is so late, sorry 😭 I swear I'll catch up

Summary: Mikey comes home clutching his side and bleeding all over your carpet after a deal gone bad. You take care of him.

Warning: Angst, Blood, Stabbing, Hurt/Comfort, Whump

This is Day 14 of my March of Pain writing challenge, where I post a whump piece inspired by a list of prompts every day. Prompt: Stabbed WC: 677 Words

You hadn't expected to see Mike that night.

He was supposed to be out with Sicky doing whatever it was that the two of them got into when they were out running shit for Leff. You had some idea, but liked to pretend that your boyfriend had an entirely normal job and just sometimes worked the night shift.

It was harder to pretend when he came home hurt. Usually with a black eye or a bruised jaw.

You'd have prefered either of those to the loud, frantic knock on your door.

For a moment, you thought that it might be the cops looking for Mike. You were frozen at the dining room table, hand still clutching the glass of wine you'd been about to sip. But then you heard the strained, wobbly voice of the man you loved calling out to you from the other side and shot up to rip the door open.

You were so shoked by the state of him that you couldn't speak. Not at first.

Mike was clutching his side, propped up against the door frame to keep himself upright. His t-shirt, peeking out from under that damn leather trenchcoat he always insisted on wearing, was soaked in blood.

His cheeks lacked their usual colour, eyes glassy and red rimmed, as if he'd been crying.

"What the fuck?" Was all you managed to choke out, heart racing in your chest as panic washed over you "Mikey, What the fuck?"

"You got a first aid kit?" His voice was shaky as he shot you a crooked, weak smile.

"Yeah." You breathed, steping out of the doorway so he could stumble inside with a pained grunt. "Yeah, I do."

Your hands darted out to steady him as you kicked the door shut behind him, guiding him over to the diningroom table.

"What happened?" You called over your shoulder on the way to the bathroom to find the first aid kit, frantically throwing open the cabinets and drawers before rushing back with the red and white box clutched tightly to your chest.

Mike was swaying in his seat a bit when you returned, eyes drooping shit.

"You've gotta stay awake, baby." you gave him a nudge, setting up accross from him. "Show me where you're bleeding."

With shaky hands, Mike pulled up the side of his shirt, wincing with every jerky movement to reveal a deep cut a few inches long just above his hip, steadily oozing blood.

"Jesus fucking-" You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, stunned, before rushing to grab a handful of gauze to hold pressure over the wound. "What-"

"The deal went bad." He groaned, weakly trying to pry your hand away from the painful spot. "one of them had a knife."

"Yeah, no shit it went bad!" You snapped, "Where the hell is Sicky? He just let you walk home like this?"

"I don't know?" It came out whinier than he'd intended, but fuck, it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. "I just fucking ran."

"I ran like a fucking coward."

"You ran because they had a fucking knife, and they were trying to kill you." You corrected as gently as you could, although there was still quite a bit of bite in your tone. "You need stitches, Mikey. I can't do that here."

"You need a hospital."

"I can't just go to the hospital." He shook his head right away, near frantic "They're gonna call the cops and then I'm fucked."

"Then we say you fell while holding a knife or something." You tried, "we can't just leave this, Baby. You didn't lose too much blood, and it doesn't look too bad. But, I'm no doctor, and even I can tell that this isn't gonna close up on it's own."

"Please." You pleaded with him, blinking up at him with eyes full of concern.

"But Leff always says-"

"Leff isn't here." You shook your head dissmissively. "I don't give a fuck what that asshole has to say."

"Mikey."

"Yeah." He nodded finaly, gnawing on his bottom lip "Okay."

Dividers and Banners by me. for more graphics, check out my side-blog @dividers-are-us Taglist:@maxxiemoa @electrifiedphylacterysaga @lofied @iith1um @somegirl29 @slvt4subchratt