Merle gets jealous when the reader interacts with other men so he finds ways to distract her
(Given it’s been so long since this blog has been active i’m really impressed by how many notes that it’s still getting so thank you very much everyone)
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None of this would have been allowed to happen if Merle hadn’t been allowed to go on a run by himself. You told Rick this several times. Merle managed to piss off almost everyone in the group by the time that you caught on to what he was doing.
Merle went a run by himself. He took the motorbike and a gun and headed for a supermarket that had been spotted on another run a few days before. He went without the metal prosthetic replacement for his hand, whining about it making it harder to ride the bike. He should only have been gone for three or four hours at the most.
You were worried sick. There had been something between you and Merle for a while now - something that nobody could put a name to, but it was certainly there. For the most part, people were just confused - they thought that you were just nice, and Merle just wanted to get you into bed. But it really wasn’t like that.
By the time that you heard Michonne calling that she could see Merle returning, nearly nine hours had passed since he left. You raced down to the gate, growling to yourself that you were going to kill him for taking so long - then you saw him.
“Shit, fuck” you breathed. Thank God there were no walkers about. You could just see him in the distance, walking along the road, pushing the bike. “I’m going to get him” you called to Michonne, pushing the gate open just wide enough for you to get out, grabbing the gun that was resting against the wall as you went.
You could hear her shouting not to go, but you weren’t listening. Keeping an eye out for walkers, you jogged along the road to Merle. He saw you coming and started to slow down, nearly coming to a stop. You cursed at him in your head - you wouldn’t take as long to get to him if he just kept moving. As you eventually got closer you could see he was limping, there was blood on his trousers and top, and you reckoned it was probably his. He was hunched over, pushing the bike with his one hand and his forearm, his teeth clenched in pain.
“What the Hell happened?”
“Good t’ see ya too” he grunted.
You took the handlebars from him, holding up the bike. It didn’t look too damaged, just a little more scratched up than usual, “What happened?”
“Came off the bike, ‘s all - still managed t’ pick up some stuff” he gestured to the rucksack swung over his shoulder.
“How badly are you hurt?”
He shook his head, “Leg’s fucked, so’s my back - couldn’t turn the damn thing” he glared at the bike.
You nodded, looking him up and down, “Does the bike still run?” he nodded, “Good” You swung your leg over and sat forward, “Come on”
He made one Hell of a face, “I ain’t riding bitch”
“Yes you are, get on”
He grunted, but accepted his fate, climbing onto the bike behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle, “Ya better not fuck up ma bike”
“No more than you already have today” you quipped.
He didn’t have a reply for once. He tried to sit up, all proud and strong, but it only took moments for him to slump forward against your back. He head was bowed against your shoulder, his arms only holding on just tight enough to stop him from falling off. He was exhausted. You could feel every harsh breath he took, the way his chest rose and fell against your back. Merle was a proud man, but he knew when he was beat.
As you got closer to home, he straightened up again - making sure no-one saw him wrapped around you like that. Because he wasn’t ‘soft or nothin’. Michonne opened the gate for you and you parked up, kicking down the stand only to wait and watch Merle as he slowly got off. Once he was up and leaning against a wall, you stepped off.
“I’ll take the bike to the workshop, see if anyone can give it a look over - you go get the doctor” you said. He huffed but went on his way.
-----
Merle had a fair amount of bruising and he’d pulled a few muscles, but he was going to be fine. He’d been prescribed rest and told he’d heal soon enough if he avoided straining himself.
You agreed to help him out with stuff, he couldn’t bend over properly, so he was going to need a little assistance from time to time. He didn’t like that, or, at least, he acted as if he didn’t. In truth he quite enjoyed the thought of having you hanging around.
Merle was determined that he was fine. He insisted he wasn’t in pain, he could manage by himself - but he only persisted with that so much. As soon as you offered your help, he would relent. But, with time, you could actually see him healing, and bit by bit you stepped back.
Which was fine. Until Merle decided it wasn’t.
Having had your company and assistance everyday for the last couple of weeks, seeing you laughing with the others, particularly the other men, sent pangs of jealousy through his heart. Merle was the kind of guy who would never admit to being jealous, he hated to even admit it to himself. To be honest, he didn’t like admitting any of his feelings to himself, his pain, his sadness, his anxiety... his jealousy... his incredibly strong feelings for you...
Merle didn’t intend to let you know he had ‘feelings’ for you. That wasn’t what he wanted. He just wanted you to be spending more time with him again. And he was pretty sure he’d figured out how to do that.
It was a few days later when you noticed Merle limping again. You’d been talking with Rick, “Hey, sorry Rick, excuse me - I’ll catch you later”
You made your way over to Merle, waving as you went to catch his eye, “Hey, are you okay?”
“Who me?” Merle smirked as you as you stopped in front of him, “What you so worried about little old me for?”
“You’re limping again, I thought your leg was nearly better?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I thought it was, but it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna stop giving me grief. Ah it’s not so bad, I’ll manage”
“No, maybe you should sit down? I wouldn’t want it to get worse again”
He gave a sigh but shrugged, “Well if you insist”
“Have you had lunch?’
“Not yet”
“Come on, I’ll make us something”
You didn’t see the grin on Merle’s face as you turned to give Rick a wave, letting him know you were off.
The same sort of thing happened again and again over the next week - whenever you were talking to another guy, Merle would somehow show up, either his leg or his back causing him bother. And you were always ready to help. At first nobody thought much of it, except that you were still being too nice, but then, they started to get suspicious - Merle would be fine when you weren’t around, then suddenly as soon as he saw you, he seemed to be in pain again, in fact, even if you were around the other women, he’d seem fine.
Rick and the others asked you how Merle was doing, commenting that it was odd that he seemed to get better then worse again. But you thought nothing of it, muscles were weird, stuff like that happened. But you were the only one who thought so.
After a week, you still thought nothing of it. But after two weeks you were getting concerned, wondering why this didn’t seem to be healing. After three weeks, with the scepticism from everyone else, you were beginning to wonder yourself. It had been nearly four weeks, and you were starting to see cracks in the facade.
You were sleepy, you’d been up late the night before and the little sleep you’d gotten hadn’t rested you very well. You were sitting under a tree, reading a book and trying to relax for once - then Merle walked past. For the first time in four weeks, that you’d seen, he wasn’t limping.
“Hey Merle” you called. You saw him jump, obviously not expecting you to be there, “hey”
“Well hey there, Princess, what you doing hiding about here?”
“Taking some time off” You got to your feet, watching him walk to you.
“Can’t say much to that”
You waited a moment, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else, “See you’re leg is better”
He blushed, “Uh yeah, seems to be doing alright today”
“That’s good - hopefully that’ll be it all better now”
“Uh, y-yeah” he scratched the back of his neck.
You folded your arms, waited a moment, “Merle?”
“...yeah?”
“Are you still hurt?”
Merle said nothing for a second, “uhh...”
You slapped his arm, “You asshole! I can’t believe you!”
“I’m sorry, I-”
“I have been so worried!”
“I didn’t m-”
“I’ve been exhausting myself worrying about you every day! I swear to God! I’m so angry”
“I’m sorry”
You took a moment, and a deep breath, “... you better be, seriously.”
“I am - I swear” Merle said quietly. He’d never expected you to react like this, he’d never wanted you to get hurt in any way.
You hated being angry at Merle, but, at the end of the day, Merle was Merle - and Merle occasionally made people angry. You gave a harsh sigh, “I don’t know if you’ve actually realised this but I do in fact care about you, Merle!” You turned your head away, trying to hide the tears that were forming in the corners of your eyes.
Merle stepped closer, gently putting a hand on your arm, “Didn’t mean to make you cry”
“I’m not crying” you mumbled.
“Yeah, yeah. Didn’t think you’d worry so much about me”
You glanced up at him, “Why would you think that? I worry about you literally every day”
“Didn’t think you cared so much” he tried to joke, but he couldn’t even convince himself.
You shook your head, “What was the point? Pretending to be hurt? You’ve still been doing just as much as you would have done anyway - nobody is giving you any sympathy; nobody but me...”
“Wasn’t about sympathy” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and stepping round in a little circle, “didn’t want any sympathy”
You rubbed your eyes, “So why bother?”
You could almost see the words on the tip of his tongue as he took long seconds to say, “I just wanted you around”
“What?”
He gave you an awkward smile, “Ya know, just, it was really... nice, having you around all the time, and I... missed that... and... I was kinda... jealous”
“... really?”
“Really”
You laughed, shook your head, and laughed again, “I love you Merle but you’re so fucking stupid”
He laughed, nodding, “Okay, but go back to that first bit?”
You wrapped your arms around him, relaxing and taking a long deep breath, “I love you Merle”
Hey beautiful people, my inbox is empty and i’d love some requests. I’ve updated my what i do, and I would really love you to send some amazing things. marvel, Game of thrones, walking dead, supernatural, and more. All those requests that you’re itching for, why not send them my way?
A/N: This is my first time writing anything based around Negan and it’s my entry into the “Fall into Negan” Challenge being hosted by @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash
There have been rumours flying around for a while now that one of Negan's wives dabbles in the black arts. It's said that she uses herbs and chants to curse those who have wronged her or her husband; that she uses archaic language and blood to seek supernatural vengeance and of course, where Negan is concerned, there is always a plentiful supply of fresh blood.
There are some who say that it's not true, that's it's all just an elaborate con designed to intimidate people. But Y/N has powers they can't even begin to comprehend. It also doesn't hurt her reputation around the Sanctuary; those who fear her keep their distance and those who don't.....well there aren't exactly that many people who aren't scared of Negan's twisted little wife.
That was how Y/N operated. She kept mostly to herself, even shunning the company of the other wives. It was preferable to be alone than to have to keep up the pretence that she actually cared for anyone other than herself and her husband. She wasn't particularly envious of the others; they barely registered an interest for her and she had found that lately, Negan seemed to be spending less and less time with his harem, instead choosing to come to her room most nights. In fact, for all she cared, the Sanctuary and all its residents could burn so long as she and Negan had each other.
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The only time that Y/N found herself feeling lonely was when Negan ventured outside the safety of the Sanctuary on supply runs. This time, he had only been gone for a few days but his absence was hitting Y/N hard. Their goodbye had been hasty, cut short thanks to a handful of walkers trying to get through the perimeter fence. A hurried yet passionate kiss was all they had time to share before she was unceremoniously hustled back into the building, out of harm's way.
Y/N found herself moping. Her magic was suffering as well as her emotional well-being. Not surprising since they were intrinsically linked but despite this knowledge, Y/N still struggled. She stormed around the Sanctuary, sending people scuttling out of the way as her face held the signs of her distress. Seeking solace, she made her way to the roof where she could be alone with her thoughts, where she could try and centre herself once more.
Hours later, long after the sun had set, Y/N was pulled back to reality by the sound of a convoy heading through the main gates. Gathering herself up from the floor, she raced down flights of stairs and through corridors to reach the ground floor, not wanting to waste a second before she could be wrapped up in Negan's arms once more. Practically flying out of the front door, she threw herself at him as soon as he stepped down from the cab of the truck.
"Well, that is one hell of a fucking welcome home, darlin'. You miss me?"
"More than you would ever know. I've been on edge for the whole time you've been away. I don't like being left behind."
"Well sugar, I ain't letting you go out there. You're way too much of a precious commodity. But I did find a little something that might help in the future."
Extracting himself from Y/N's seemingly vice-like grip, Negan reached up into the truck and pulled down a small, tatty cardboard box with holes poked in each side. Placing it in Y/N's outstretched hands, he followed behind as she walked back towards the steps that led into the Sanctuary. Ripping it open as she sat down, Y/N was greeted by the sight of a black kitten sleeping, curled up on top of a scrap of ripped up old blanket.
“Found him in an abandoned house a few miles away. Thought he could keep you company – after all, doesn’t every witch need a familiar?”
A smirk worked its way across Y/N’s face. She could just picture herself stalking through the building, the cat trailing behind her, hissing at anyone who got in their way. She stood up, the grin still etched on her face, and looked back down at Negan.
“He’s perfect. Now I just need to think up a name. I’m going to get him settled, then perhaps I can show you, my darling husband, just how much I missed you.”
Running was never a favorite pastime of yours, even before the apocalypse. Hell, even before you turned, you were more of a leisurely walk type of person.
Luckily, your vampire traits came in handy at the end of the world. Rather than waste time finding a working car with gas and hot wiring it, you just reverted to using your vampire speed. It was easier, and more discreet, especially when you were following someone.
Even so, you still hated running. If your lungs weren’t dead already, you were sure they’d be on their last rattling breaths. You had been following the convoy for about an hour, making sure to keep far enough back to not be noticed, but close enough not to lose them. Hopefully they would stop soon, you could only run this fast for so long, and you were flagging.
You wrinkled your nose as you kept pace. They didn’t stop to scavenge, but instead kept moving. Even though there seemed to be several potential neighborhoods you were passing. That told you two things. The convoy had already ransacked all the neighborhoods near their home, and they were highly organized. This group had reach.
But it was the smell that kept your attention. The smell of death was growing. You wondered if there was a herd nearby. That would throw a wrench in your plans, especially if the herd destroyed the group you were following. You were brought out of your internal musings when the trucks turned off the main road and you stopped.
It wasn’t the building that gave you pause, though the tall factory was impressive. It was the chain-link and concrete fence surrounding it. And the dozens of walkers chained to the perimeter.
“Well that’s what I smelled,” you murmured to yourself, as you stuck to the shadows, keeping out of sight.
The trucks were ushered through a gate, heavily armed men waving them through. There were also guards along the fence, and you spotted the glint of scopes from various vantage points on the factory itself. These guys took security seriously.
So you watched the coming and going of the people living in the abandoned factory. The community seemed to run like a well oiled machine. It was impressive, if not intimidating. You had to hand it to the survivors. Not everyone was equipped to deal with the end of the world, literally or figuratively. But these people were definitely doing more than just surviving. They were flourishing.
More people meant more sources of blood, if you got to that point and weren’t killed on sight. You could continue to subsist on animal blood, as you had been the past month, but it took twice as much to slake your thirst. Not to mention it wasn’t as palatable or substantial.
You weighed the pros and cons. More people means more blood. More people also meant more danger. You preferred to keep your affliction on a need-to-know basis, until you felt safe. And from what you gathered from watching, this group had a long hierarchy. If the wrong person found out what you were, it could spell disaster.
But, the truth of the matter was, no matter how much animal blood you drank, you would need human blood eventually. With your age and your willpower, you could probably last, at max, another two months without human blood. After that, it would be a free for all.
You stood up, brushing the dirt and debris off your pants. If it all went tits up, hell, you’re a vampire. If you had to fight your way out, you would. For now, you just had figure out your point of entry.
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Simon was leading a convoy back from the Kingdom. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, a headache brewing behind his eyes. Ezekiel was, a character, to say the least. All the renaissance fair reject shit was something he put up with since the community supplied them with fresh meat. But it didn’t mean he liked it. He just wanted to get back to the Sanctuary and sleep.
He returned his focus to the road, narrowing his eyes when he saw movement. A group of walkers were converging on the side of the road. A small figure seemed to be dodging the walkers, swinging a machete.
Simon flashed his lights, and pulled over, the two trucks following him doing the same. He got out of the cab, taking his gun from his holster.
He shot one walker that was creeping up behind the woman. She turned in surprise before continuing her assault on on the walkers.
The other Saviors looked to Simon for instruction.
“Well fucking shoot them,” he said exasperated, raising his gun to take another shot. The soldiers followed suit, mowing down the walkers with ease.
The woman wiped off viscera that had coated her button up, but kept her machete out, eyeing them warily.
“You okay doll?” Simon asked, keeping an eye for more walkers. One of her eyebrows jumped above her dark glasses.
“Doll? I’d be insulted if you didn’t just possibly save my life,” she quipped.
Simon chuckled.
“That’s right I did, you gonna say thank you?”
“I might, but I suppose that depends on what kind of “thank you” you want in return,” she said, tightening her grip on her machete.
“Easy now,” Simon said, raising his hands in defense.
“Why don’t we all put our weapons away, and you tell me your name?”
____________________________________
Even though you could have dispatched the small group of walkers with ease, you needed to be seen as capable, but not a threat.
Luckily you had timed it right, and the group you had been stalking actually stopped to help. You tried not to wince as they used their guns to ‘save’ you. Gunfire was always rough on your delicate hearing.
So they had guns, and weren’t afraid of wasting ammo. The leader of the group was an older man, maybe mid to late forties. It was hard to tell, people seemed to age faster nowadays.
You dropped your machete to your side, but didn’t sheathe it. You could decapitate at least four of the group before anyone knew what was going on.
Your eyes darted imperceptibly fast under your dark glasses, as you took in your ‘rescuers.’ There were ten total; all armed, fingers off the trigger, but that could change in a moments notice. It was a mix of men and women, so at least they were equal opportunity. You tilted your head slightly, picking up on an additional four, still in the trucks. You could decipher who had been in the group longer than others, their eyes staying trained on you, rather than the few newbies who seemed to dart from you to the mustached man, and back to you. They were clearly unsure to what the procedure was in the case of finding a random survivor. Or, this was against normal procedure.
You sheathed your machete, a sign of compliance, before reaching down to grab your bag.
“What’s in the bag?” the mustache asked, resting his hand on his hip and his pistol.
You tossed the bag to the nearest soldier, keeping your face straight as he fumbled, nearly dropping both your bag and his gun.
“Go ahead and look. Just some clothes, food, a book,” you said offhandedly. The soldier opened your bag, and showed the contents to Mustache, who nodded and your bag was tossed back at your feet.
“You don’t have any other weapons?” he asked.
“Other than my cutting wit, no,” you replied with a toothy smile.
Mustache groaned.
“Great, another smart ass.”
“I’ve been told we tend to flock together, so I’m not entirely sure what that says about you,” you said with a shit eating smile.
You held out a gloved hand.
“Y/N,” you said.
“Simon,” he responded, taking your hand in his. Even through your glove, you could feel the warmth of his hand.
It was always a surprise to feel the heat coming off humans. Your own skin had been cool like marble for the last several decades. It was sometimes unnerving when people felt how unnaturally cold she was, hence the gloves she wore. Saying she was anemic, only got so far.
“You alone?” he asked.
“If I wasn’t, I’m sure you’d know by now. But yeah, just me, myself and I.”
Simon nodded thoughtfully, and stroked his mustache.
“Are you looking for a group?”
“Is that an offer? Do you guys have dental?”
“Roof over your head. Food. Protection,” he listed.
“And to get that?” you probed.
“Let’s just leave that for the boss man,” Simon said leading you to the truck. He rested his hand on your lower back.
“Easy there Burt Reynolds,” you said, pulling away from his touch. He smiled slyly and removed his hand slowly, giving you a wink.
He took you to the back of the truck, where another soldier was waiting with zip ties.
“Just a precaution doll,” he said when he saw you pause.
You held out your hands, knowing you could break them easily. After the soldier secured your hands, another took your machete.
“I’m gonna want that back later, please and thank you,” you sassed, as you climbed into the back of the truck, plopping down in the center of the bench.
Simon just shook his head.
“Alright, everyone load up. Let’s get home.”
————————————————————
The ride to their base was relatively quiet. You took the the time to not only survey your riding companions but to note the distance you rode and turns the truck took. If they took you anywhere else, other than the main base you found days prior, you would know.
You were sandwiched between two burly men, with a woman in front of you. She had her pistol sitting on her lap, a bored expression on her face. You seemed to have gotten the stoic group, not much for conversation. Either that or they didn’t want to talk around you. Which was fine, you were used to being alone.
The smell of human blood was enough to lift your spirits. If this worked out, then you’d not only have a place to stay, but hopefully a source of food too.
The truck took the final turn, and the truck slowed. You could hear the groaning of the dead on the fence and the creak of the gate.
When the truck stopped, the two men sitting next to you pulled you to your feet.
Your appointed guard took point, getting out of the truck first, before nodding to the men. The duo helped you out of the truck, keeping a firm grip on your arms.
A booming voice caught your attention.
“Well who did you bring me Simon? I know she’s not one of Ezekiel’s.”
You were brought to another man, this one almost as tall as Simon, but more built, whereas the Burt Reynold’s mustache twin was wiry.
He had dark hair peppered with white, a leather jacket, and a baseball bat wrapped with barbed wire propped on his shoulder.
Simon shooed your guards away, and held your elbow.
“This is (Y/N). Saw her fighting off a group of walkers.”
The man, obviously the leader, raised his eyebrows and gave Simon a wink.
“And you decided to play Knight-in-shining-armor eh? Don’t blame you, she’s pretty cute,” he said, not caring if you heard him.
“Well then (Y/N), my name is Negan, and this-” he said, gesturing at the busy community.
“Is my humble abode. Sanctuary.”
You glanced around, as if taking in your surroundings for the first time.
“Looks like a pretty safe place,” you said evenly, nodding your head in acceptance.
Negan grinned, obviously proud of his home sweet home.
“Oh and it is. But to keep this place safe, we have rules. Number one, I’m big dick in charge. What I say, goes.”
He glanced at your face curiously, and pointed to your face using his bat.
You could smell the blood permeating the wood, a mix of walker and human blood that would always linger in the porous wood.
“So Simon says-” he started sharing a quick smile with his right hand man, laughing at his joke. “-Take off your sunglasses. I don’t like talking to people when I can’t see their eyes. Too many untrustworthy folks nowadays.”
You brought your bound hands up to your face, and pulled your sunglasses off. You folded the stems, keeping your eye protection securely in your hand.
You squinted a bit, it was still fairly bright out, being middle of the afternoon. You forced your lids open, and allowed your eyes to semi-adjust to the light.
“Apologies Mr. Negan. I have photophobia. My eyes are a bit sensitive to light,” you said looking at him.
Your eyes, which were a normal color before your turn, now were several shades lighter. It gave your eyes a sort of pastel color, usually only achievable with contact lenses.
Negan and Simon took turns studying your eyes, watching when you would avert your gaze when a particularly strong beam of light would hit them, but not when they were looking directly at you.
“Well whaddya know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes so pretty,” Negan declared, motioning for you to follow him into a shadier spot.
Simon followed the two of you, keeping close in case you decided to try something.
“So (Y/N), what can Negan do for you,” he asked, referring to himself in third person.
“Well the real question is what can I do, to stay here?” you asked.
Negan slapped his leg.
“Shit, you picked a good one Simon. Ready to follow the rules and everything. Look at her, eager to do some hard work. Don’t that just beat all.”
“There are three levels here. Those who work for points in exchange for food, clothing, and the like. Maintenance, cooking, or scrubbing shit. Saviors, like my man Simon here, who do the scavenging and are my trusted soldiers and lieutenants.”
“And the third?”
Negan smiled toothily.
“Ah, the third. I alway save the best for last. The third position, only handed out to a special few, is to be one of my wives. Mine to have and hold in holy matrimony, in exchange for whatever you could possibly want in this life.”
He looked you up and down.
“Even under that layer of dirt, I can see you’re pretty sexy. What do you say? Wanna be wife number three?”
Wow, he really went there. You could see why some ladies would take him up on his offer. He was attractive, there was no denying that. And there was nothing wrong with easy, but you didn’t think you’d be able to survive that way. Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t work, and you had never been one to sit around. The audacity of the offer was what really threw you. He didn’t even know you. He must really think with his dick when pretty ladies were on the line, especially when his position as leader was stable. He was indeed king of this castle.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing, and hoped your face seemed more shy and less flabbergasted.
“If it’s all the same to you sir, I’ll work for my points. Not really big on sharing.”
He laughed, not at all insulted by your decision.
“Well, I am big enough to share, but if you change your mind, just let me know.”
He pulled out a knife, and cut your bonds. You rubbed your wrists more out of habit, than from pain or loss of circulation. He kept the knife out, and rested the tip on your chest.
“I’m only saying this once, and I say it to everyone, so don’t think I’m singling you out. You follow the rules, you work, and we will get along nicely. I’d hate to add you to the fence club,” he said, nodding his head in the general direction of the walkers chained to the wall.
You kept your gaze firm, but not combative.
“Yes sir.”
He laughed again, and re-sheathed his knife.
“Welcome to Sanctuary.”
——————————————————————————
Whatcha guys think? Let me know! Writing Negan was super fun.
Fandom: Walking dead
Prompt: Rick Grimes x Reader where he saves you from a walker?
Word Count: 915
Character: Rick Grimes
Reader Gender: Female
Warnings: Nothing.
Author note: Bit of awkwardness and fluff for your thursday afternoon!
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Going on runs were never easy, especially not when you weren’t talking to the person you were on a run with. You’d heard Rick talking the day before about not wanting to go on a run with you, and you found yourself wondering if that was because you weren’t exactly the strongest. You weren’t Rosita, or Michonne, or even Maggie. You seemed weak in comparison to any of those, you guessed he really only tolerated you because you were Daryl’s little sister. You stayed quiet in the trunk, the stereo blasting some old eighties music, which you didn’t mind too much, you’d always liked older stuff than the music that came out before the apocalypse.
“Everything alright?” Rick finally asked, causing you to look over at him. “Fine.” You responded. “You didn’t have to come you know, Daryl would’ve or I could’ve gone with Aaron.” You suggested, shrugging your shoulders, and then glancing over at him. “I said I would go on the next run, especially seeing as how far we’re going. It made sense.” Rick responded with a shrug. “Didn’t you need to be around incase Negan shows up?” He shook his head once again, causing the cab to fall into silence as you continued to drive.
You drove in silence for the most part, the conversation starting every so often, but then failing once again, making the drive one of the most awkward you’d experienced in a long time. Noticing Rick Yawning, you glanced away, biting on your lip. You’d always had a crush on Rick and he looked so cute when he was tired, you’d noticed after the prison fell, travelling with him, you couldn’t stop looking at him sometimes. “Want me to take over?” You asked softly, glancing at him. Rick smiled. “No it’s alright. We’ll pull over soon and make camp for the night.”
This was awkward and you found yourself getting frustrated, you were going to have to sleep in the back with him tonight, but with things already so awkward the idea of this made you feel very nervous. Glancing over at him once more, you then quickly pulled your eyes away. “How much further till we’re there?” You questioned softly. “We should be there tomorrow about midday as long as we set off early.” He explained causing you to nod and smile. “Alright, sounds good.”
Rick glanced at you once more. “Are you sure everything is alright?” Feeling the truck stop, you glanced at him and nodded, before climbing out and looking around. You were exhausted, not because you were tired but because this silence was tiring, neither of you talking, when you’re meant to be working together. Letting out a small sigh, you walked a little away from the truck, completely forgetting to keep your wits about you; you were too busy being caught up in why Rick didn’t like you.
“Y/N!” The sound of a shout caused you to turn around. Coming face to face with a walker, you went to reach for your knife, but it was too late, the walker was on you and you were taken down onto the ground. Fighting with him, you tried to get him off. “Rick!” You screamed, as you tried to get him off of you. He was quickly pulled off of you and stabbed in the head. You lay there on the ground, looking down at the dead walker for a moment, before taking Rick’s hand as he pulled you up. “Are you alright?” Nodding softly, you glanced down at the walker. “Yeah… I’m alright.”
A moment later you glanced at him and sighed. “I’m sorry.” You whispered before walking off toward the truck. “Y/N.” Feeling his hand on your arm, you turned around and looked at him. “Yes?” He looked worriedly into your eyes. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, causing you to pull your hand away from him. “I’m sorry I’m not stronger, I’m sorry that I’m not like the others. I know you didn’t want to come on this run with me because I’m not strong like them.” You admitted looking away from him, taking a breath to stop yourself feeling sad.
“Y/N…” Rick whispered taking a step closer and grabbing your hand. “I didn’t want to come on this run, but not because you’re weak… Which you’re not by the way, you’re far from weak!” Rick said looking into your eyes. “I didn’t want to come on this run because I didn’t want to betray Daryl.” Looking at him confused, you found yourself tilting your head slightly. “What do you mean betray Daryl?” You questioned in hardly a whisper. “I mean that I’ve had feelings for you since before Terminus and I wanted to be with you, but… I didn’t want to betray your brother by being with you.”
His words caught you off guard; you’d never expected to hear something like that. “Rick…” You whispered softly. “He loves you like a brother, and well I’m his sister, I think he’d want us to be happy.” You mused, seeing Rick starting to smile. “You mean that you…” Pulling Rick close, you kissed him softly. “I like you too Rick.” Grinning, he pulled you closer and kissed you passionately, his fingers running down your sides as you did. “We should get some sleep…” You suggested, as you broke the kiss, slipping his hand into yours, he led you to the back of the truck, both of you knowing you’d not get that much sleep tonight.
Really silly request, but what about a (sort of) one-side Daryl/reader? Like Daryl gets a crush on this survivor who's found wandering around Alexandria and is brought in to heal up. After her full recovery she starts saying she need to leave. More than once Daryl asks her to stay, but she replies she needs to search for her family, because she's eaten up by guilt to not know if they're still alive. (It's not that she doesn't like him, but she has this delusional urge to know) - anon
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Daryl saw you first when Michonne brought you into Alexandria. You looked exhausted, one arm over Michonne’s shoulder as she helped you to walk. Michonne had you bag over her other shoulder, the only thing you were carrying was compound bow and a handful of arrows. You were limping, and your feet were dragging, you were trying to speak but the words were stuttering and and faint.
Michonne yelled for help and Daryl and a few others immediately rushed to your aid. “She’s dehydrated, probably starving - but she’s not been bitten. Someone tell Deanna that I’ve brought her in. I’ll take her things, someone get her to Denise, she’s not going to stay standing much longer”
Daryl nodded and went to support you, but as soon as he took a step, you lost consciousness and began to fall. Daryl caught you instantly, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to Denise for medical attention.
Michonne was right, you were starving and dehydrated, and probably suffering from sun stroke. God knew how you’d survived this long. You were bloody, but aside from small scrapes and scratches, you weren’t seriously injured in any way.
It took a day or so come back round. You still looked ill, dark shadows under your eyes, generally breathless and exhausted. Daryl had been coming in to check on you, partly because you were new and nobody knew you, and, though it seemed highly unlikely, you could pose a threat, and also, because there was something about you that had caught his attention, in a way that he’d never experienced before.
He’d stuck his head in the door for the fourth time that day, to see you sitting up, drinking some water, struggling to keep a hold of the glass.
“Hey,” Daryl said, the roughness in his voice coming across soft, “the sleeping beauty’s awake” He hadn’t honestly meant it as a compliment, just that you’d been asleep more or less since you got here.
You smiled weakly, putting down the glass, “Yeah, finally managed to open my eyes”
“How you feelin’?”
“Better than I had been” you nodded.
“I’m Daryl”
“I’m Y/N”
“What happened to ya?”
You took a breath and a sigh, “I got seperated from my family by a huge group of walkers - my Uncle had all the supplies...”
“How long ago was that?”
You shook your head, “A week, maybe longer? I’m not sure”
“Sounds like you got here just in time then”
“Guess I did”
It took a few more days until you were fully on your feet, but once you were healthy enough Daryl showed you around and introduced you. You liked Daryl, he was quiet but he wasn’t scared to speak his mind.
He was nice to you, genuinely nice, which was such a beautiful change from how the world had become. If the world wasn’t falling down around you, you might even have been interested. But that’s not how the world worked anymore.
Daryl was hooked on you though - every moment you spent together he could feel his heart beating stronger in his chest. Talking with you was easy, he never found himself without something to say. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he felt so comfortable with another person.
He admired your strength, mentally and physically, your resilience, and calm. He could have sworn he felt his heart break when you said;
“I need to leave”
“What? How come? There’s a place for you here, you can be safe here, I-”
“I’m sorry Daryl,” he could see the tears coming to your eyes, “but I need to go find my family, I need to know that they’re alright”
Daryl was flustered, the thought had been niggling at the back of his mind, but he’d not wanted to admit to himself that there was a possibility that you’d leave. “Then I’ll come with you - help you find them. We can bring them back here, they can all be safe”
You shook your head, “I can’t ask you to leave Daryl”
“You don’t have to ask”
“Daryl,” you said softly, “You’re needed here. It’s more important you’re here, protecting everyone, than off wandering the highway with me” Neither of you said anything for the longest moment, “Thanks for everything Daryl”
You gave a soft sigh as you turned away from him.
Suddenly Daryl grabbed your hand. You looked back at him to see tears in his eyes, “I don’t want you to go”
“I need to. I’m sorry... I’m sorry” You started to walk away, not able to look back.
“When you find them, come back here, Y/N, please”
“Once I’ve found them” you called back, “I promise, once I’ve found them I’ll come back”
Hey guys, I got bit by the Walking Dead bug. So that combined with that Simon dream from last week or so, got me thinking about a fanfic series. Not sure if I want do do ReaderxSimon or a little bit of ReaderxDaryl... maybe both. :P So without further ado.. a prologue/teaser for Reciprocal Altruism.
The end of the world. Everyone speculated how it would happen, if it would happen. The choices were endless, each more outlandish than the last; nuclear war, asteroid a la the Armageddon movie, collapse of the world’s ecosystems, humanity enslaved by alien overlords, the list goes on.
You had been around long enough to hear all the theories. Every year it seemed some zealot was screaming how the world was going to end, but the Earth kept spinning, regardless of what the crazy man filming himself in his basement foretold. Predictably, when the dead rose and started walking, everyone seemed to lose their goddamn minds. No one wanted to believe it was true. It was only when faced with shambling, rotting corpses that had no remorse for eating your flesh, did people even comprehend that the world was changing. No more day time television, Starbucks, or lazy Sundays. It was either survive, or die.
Still, it wasn’t that shocking for you. Technically, you’d been dead for over 50 years. Well, undead...ish. A vampire, nosferatu, strigoi, lots of names tied to lots of legends. But it wasn’t all Bram Stoker and Lost Boys. Or whatever fictional story happened to be trending. The Twi-hard years had you rolling your eyes.
The sun while irritating didn’t make you burst in flames, or heaven forbid, sparkle. You were actually quite fond of garlic, albeit it was in short supply now. Church grounds and crucifixes didn’t repel you physically. In fact you had spent many of your years and travels admiring the old architecture of the churches of Europe.
You did, however, have to rely on blood for sustenance. And with the undead roaming around, gnawing on anything living, your food supply was becoming more scarce. Luckily for you, your nose was very sensitive, even filled with the scent of death. So, tracking a human was hardly difficult. It was staying that proved a challenge.
You had joined various groups since the end of the world, some lasting longer than others. Broaching the topic of drinking blood, and being a vampire had its ups and downs. How would you start that conversation? When would be the appropriate time? Once your strange situation was revealed, some people, while wary, had jumped at the chance to have you in their group. You needed less sleep than your human counterparts, were stronger than most, could dispatch the walking dead with ease, and most of all, you could smell the rotting corpses from a mile away. All of these protections were gladly accepted in exchange for blood. It was a game of choosing the lesser of two evils.
You never took more than you needed, sometimes even less than a pint. You also took care to cycle through donors. After all, it would do you no good to protect your food source from threats, only to be the cause of their demise. So you watched over your flock, a strange guardian, while they kept your thirst at bay.
There were times, when you came across those that would harm you or your companions. In those cases, you drank your fill. You took no pleasure in killing. Even the worst that dared to threaten your way of life were quickly drained, and the brain was destroyed. No muss, no fuss.
Unfortunately, playing happy family wasn’t always the case. For some, the idea of vampires existing on top of the world being overrun by the walking dead, was too much. Filled with fear and distrust, you were more dangerous than a walker. Usually you were able to discern which group would be more amiable to your situation, as it were. Sometimes you made mistakes.
Since the end of the world, you had been shot at least 10 times. Someone had even attempted to stake you. Suffice to say, people had relied on fiction and attempted to apply it in real life. Though you couldn’t fault them for being afraid. You may have been top of the food chain before the end, but now, you just wanted to survive, just like everyone else. And for that, you needed humans.
And so you wandered, trying to find both a steady food source and maybe a companion or two. After all, whether human or immortal, the end of the world could be very lonely place.
It was quiet. The suburb you had found yourself in had been ransacked long ago. The walking dead even seemed sparse. The town was dead, literally and figuratively. But the town was on a central hub of highway, just out of DC, one that you noticed had recent use. And so you waited.
You sat on top of one of the tallest buildings around. The sunlight was irritating your eyes, but you had your trusty side shield sunglasses, which blocked most of the harmful rays. You had spent five days on that roof, keeping an eye and ear out for any indication of life.
You were about to pack it in and search somewhere else when you heard it. The telltale noise of vehicles rattling. You scanned the horizon, squinting as you saw the glint of glass and dust kicking up in the distance. They were heading west. You stretched, having been stuck on that roof for awhile.
