Hello! God... I'm not even sure how to start this.
Anyway. I'm doing this thing where the writer is kind of "introducing" themselves and all of that so you can obviously just skip this post if this doesn't interest you.
☙ You can follow me on my spam account @maggiespams !
☙ My name is Margaret, though I use the nickname Maggie (makes me feel less... I don't know, cold?)
☙ I'm above 18-years old and under 30-years old (I'm not exactly comfortable giving out my actual age, all I can say is that I'm not a minor).
☙ I'm french-canadian (in other words, Quebecer) and portuguese, which means English isn't my first language (though I believe my level is fairly decent).
☙ I use she/her pronouns.
☙⁎✴ favorite actors — robin williams. norman reedus. brittany murphy. johnny depp. morgan freeman. rose mcgowan. melissa mcbride. jennifer love hewitt. andy samberg. dacre montgomery. jacob elordi. amanda seyfried. amanda bynes. nichole bloom. america ferrera. octavia spencer. robert pattinson. ashley greene. rachelle lafèvre. matthew lillard. naomie harris.
☙⁎✴ favorite characters — daryl dixon. murphy macmanus. connor macmanus. harry odum. rick grimes. maggie greene. beth greene. sophie sheridan. daisy randone. clay jensen. zach dempsey. fiona gallagher. alice cullen. paul lahote. maddy perez. rue bennett. billy loomis. stu macher. billy hargrove. princess carolyn. sarah lynn. melinda gordon. calypso (tia dalma).
☙⁎✴ favorite movies — the boondock saints. mamma mia. pirates of the caribbean: on stranger tides. the boy in the striped pyjamas. six ways to sunday. uptown girls. saltburn. avatar: the way of water. scream. i believe in unicorns. girl, interrupted. midsommar. moonlight. dead poets society. freedom writers. precious. the shawshank redemption. bohemian rhapsody. beautiful boy.
☙⁎✴ favorite books — twilight saga. virgin suicides. lolita. the boy in the striped pyjamas. pride and prejudice. the counte of monte cristo. little women. wuthering heights. les misérables. the little prince. emma.
☙⁎✴ favorite artists — melanie martinez. frank ocean. lubiana. daniel caesar. erykah badu. sade. beyonce. lady gaga. queen. the smiths. the beatles. marina and the diamonds. cocteau twins. stromae. luidji. theodora. the unicorns. marvin gaye. minnie riperton. fugees. abba. tv girl. mac demarco. fleetwood mac. mac miller. radiohead. lana del rey. adrianne lenker. alex g. kimya dawson. the moldy peaches. tyler, the creator. the cure. wave to earth. blood orange. she and him. the marias. the softies. jeff buckley. rihanna. thee sacred souls. beabadoobee. amy winehouse. deftones. fiona apple. david bowie. mitski. ella fitzgerald. cigarettes after sex. men i trust. the cranberries. the sundays.
This is all I could think to give out... I genuinely hope that you guys will like the upcoming fanfictions/stories I'll release (more about it in the masterlist post).
This will be deleted when the fourth chapter will be posted. This is like a way for me to communicate that I didn't abandoned the project or anything, I'm still working on the next chapter (and it's supposed to be a lengthy one, so you guys will be served correctly).
It's just that I didn't have the time to focus on this project due to me moving and other personal issues... In short, my head is filled with a lot of stuff right now so... Yeah.
I don't have a date or anything to give you, hopefully by the end of this month it'll be posted.
Here's the masterlist, if you guys didn't see it yet!
Thank you for considering sending a request! Minus the fact that the ask box is available, it is currently closed as I'm focused on my main fanfiction. To prevent from being asked things I'm not comfortable writing, here are a few rules I've put in place!
What I'm comfortable writing
☙ Fluff
☙ Smut (Willing to explore a few things, depending on the ask)
☙ Angst
☙ Hurt To Comfort
☙ Happy Ending
☙ Sad Ending
☙ Character x Reader
☙ Female Reader
☙ WLW
☙ Slow Burn
☙ Established Relationship
☙ Friends To Lovers
☙ Strangers To Friends To Lovers
☙ Enemies To Lovers (Not concerning every character I'm writing for)
☙ Mutual Pining
☙ Domestic Fluff
What I'm not comfortable writing
☙ Character x Character
☙ Male Reader (This blog is Female Reader focused, sorry!)
☙ Underage Characters x Reader Smut (Even if you're a minor yourself, I'm an adult and I'm not comfortable writing these.)
☙ Abusive Relationships
☙ CNC / Dub-Con / Non-Con
☙ Stepcest / Incest
☙ Abnormally Large Age Gaps
☙ Most kinks not explicitly listed under "What I'm Comfortable Writing"
☙ Cheating
☙ Explicit Self-Harm
Of course, if you're not sure whether your request respects these rules, feel free to ask beforehand! You can also send it directly, and I'll let you know whether or not I'm comfortable writing it (along with an explanation).
Here's the link to the list of characters I'm willing to write for — 𝜗ৎ
You're also welcome to request a character who isn't on my list, as long as they're from a fandom I currently write for.
꩜ Summary: A strange encounter leaves you questioning more than just the walkers roaming the woods. Back at the quarry, tensions, first impressions, and unexpected conversations make it harder to ignore the reality settling around you. As you try to adapt to this new world — and the people in it — a single conversation changes everything you thought you knew about the timeline you’re trapped in.
꩜ A/N: Woohoo! Third chapter! I put an easter egg in this chapter for the comics readers out there... English is still not my first language, so, sorry for any spelling mistakes or even could be harsh to the eye. Anyway! Have fun reading!
Masterlist
Previous || Next
Mouth slightly ajar, you stare at Daryl. Your fingers twitch on your sides before coming behind you to grip at the back of your thighs, trying to discreetly wipe your sweaty palms off using the fabric of your jeans.
His eyes scan your face for a few seconds before scoffing. “Gonna get yer ass killed if you stay here,” he grunts, adjusting the strap of his crossbow on his good shoulder. Daryl turns around, already heading back toward the camp.
When he doesn't hear your footsteps following him, he glances over his shoulder, glaring at you confusedly. “You comin' or wha'?”
You blink quickly, shaking yourself out of your shocked state before nodding. “Y—Yeah...” you say hesitantly. Your gaze drops to the walker’s corpse lying on the dirty ground. “Do we just leave them—it here?”
“The hell d’you wanna do with it?” His tone is a mix of confusion and impatience as he glances down at the walker.
You're taken aback from his tone. Not because it was a surprising attitude coming from Daryl, especially in the early seasons, but because you weren't used to people speaking to you that way.
You don't bother answering before letting out a sigh, bypassing him to head back toward the quarry.
Daryl is stunned for a second before shrugging it off, following after you with a grumble. He takes the time to look over at the walker on the ground one last time.
Now, sitting around a bonfire with a few people, you stare at the flames as hums and chewing sounds echo around you. You're deep in thought, just like this morning — and the whole day, for that matter — glaring mindlessly at the center of the circle.
The walker from earlier, the first and only one you had encountered, ignored you. How was that logical? Is it because normally you shouldn't be here? Could they even sense that?
The sun was setting down, making the atmosphere as quiet as it could be. Crickets sing around the quarry as the few remaining mosquitoes fly around the many bodies.
Your thoughts are cut short as someone taps your shoulder, the touch gentle but somewhat firm. You turn your head over your shoulder to look at the person, lightly raising an eyebrow you were met with a woman.
The said woman couldn't be older than forty, harboring short light brown hair with same color eyes. You didn't recognize her.
She nudges her head to the side, signaling you to get up and follow her, a hand behind her back. You get up from your camping chair, following her closer to the back of the RV.
Your back facing the others, you stare at the woman, confused. “...yes?”
She looks at you intensely before taking one of your hands with her free one, shoving her previously hidden palm into yours.
You look down to what she was handing you, your eyes widening in realization. “A gun? I—why would I—”
“(Y/N), sweetie, just take it,” she says, pushing it more firmly into your palm. “I saw you getting outta that forest with that... redneck. You oughta be careful.”
You were about to hand it back to her before a voice appeared behind the woman.
“Donna, don't be so judgemental.”
She turns her head, frowning. “Allen, sweetheart... I know what I'm doing.”
“No... No you don't.” Allen places his hands on her shoulders before offering you an apologetic smile. “Sorry 'bout her, nurse. She tends to be a little... old-fashioned.”
Your eyes widen at her implication. “I'm... I'm not sure Daryl is that harmful, Donna,” you utter her name hesitantly, trying to appear familiar.
She gives you a look. “I doubt that man is any different from his brother—”
“Donna.”
“What?”
Allen lets out a sigh. “Daryl—” he whispers the name. “—is the man who feeds you, us, every single night. Ain't you the one always complainin' 'bout those disrespectful youngsters nowadays? You're aren't much different right now...”
You watch them bicker for a moment before you officially get tired of it. You push the gun back into Donna's hand, smiling apologetically.
“Just... Take it back,” you say softly but firmly. “Daryl can be an asshole sometimes but he's not... whatever you think he is.”
Donna gives you a dejected look before reluctantly taking the pistol back. Her husband is quick to take it from her, hooking it to his belt.
They were both were about to bid you goodnight before Donna's eyes widen. She takes your forearm, a worried look on her face.
“You're not mad at me are you?” she asks nervously. “I wouldn't want my boys to be left out because I insulted your... boyfriend.”
“Acquaintances,” you correct her quickly. You make a mental note that those two had sons, apparently.
“Right... Billy and Ben would be very sad if—”
“I'm not mad at you. At all.”
Donna lets out a relieved sigh. She was about to dive in in another conversation before Allen, her husband, by the hold on her shoulders, guides her back to their tent.
You wave them goodbye before deciding it was also time for you to get some shut-eye.
Fortunately for you, no one tried to stop you from going as you walk toward the yellow tent. You open the flap eagerly before basically throwing yourself in, careful to zip back shut behind you.
You decided you would get more information tomorrow, as most people were already asleep or too busy eating.
You close your eyes, no longer fighting the exhaustion of the day.
You're woken up by the sound of laughter.
You shuffle your upper body up, groaning in exhaustion as you realize you didn't wake up in your bed. You had hoped the events of yesterday were just a dream of some sort, but no luck, you guessed.
Not wanting Amy to barge in like yesterday while you were still in your underwear, you get up from your sleeping bag, almost clumsily falling by how quick the movement was.
Your eyes scan the floor of the tent, trying to figure out what to wear. You note how you should probably go out to get some more clothes, if you were going to stay there, of course.
Eyeing your underwear, none of the colors matched unfortunately, you shudder in disgust as you felt as if you had worn them for over three days. You mentally tried to reassure yourself that it was normal before yanking the undergarments off of your body.
You fortunately find clean underwear before putting them on. You kneel on the floor of the tent to try and find somewhat clean clothes to wear.
After a few moments of searching, your hands find a blue and white striped knit top and a pair of capri jeans. You let out a satisfied hum as you did recall having something similar in your closet back at home. You slip on socks and the same pair of sneakers as yesterday, as they were the only thing you apparently had.
Your eyes stops had a little box on the floor, picking it up curiously. When you open it, you're met with pearl earrings.
Would it be bad to put them on?
After a few seconds of contemplation, you put the pearls on. You were used to wearing earrings all the time, so it felt like a relief to feel your lobes clothed.
Hair falls into your vision, making you grumble a few quiet curses. Right. Something was missing.
You didn't like having to deal with your hair, not that you didn't take care of them. More so that it was a waste of time for you. Why bother style your hair if you'd spend your whole day at the hospital anyway? You didn't see the point.
Your eyes catch a shiny fabric, all shuffled with other fabrics. You smile knowingly, snatching the shimmery cyan satin out of the messy pile of materials.
You were happy to see that the (Y/N) of this world had the same instincts as you.
You take the time to tie your hair in a useful manner, wrapping the satin scarf around your head, adjusting the make-shift bun you had tied. You let the excess of fabric fall onto your left shoulder, smiling at the feeling of baldness on your head.
You let out a relieved sigh before your nose catches a sudden odor. You raise your arm before regretting your decision.
“Oh—!” you blurt, your nose scrunching up at the smell of sweat before exhaling. “Okay... I'm definitely bathing tonight.” Your voice is filled with embarrassment, even if you were the only victim of the smell as of right now.
You get out of your tent after a few moments of silence, almost falling face first into the ground as you forgot to be careful.
Your feet take you back to the center of the quarry, where the main group usually gathered.
“Since when do you wear scarves on your head?”
You turn your head to the side at the sudden question, seeing Amy and Andrea sitting in camping chairs, seemingly waiting for the radio to make a sound.
Amy, the one who had asked the question, looks at you with a smile and a raised eyebrow. “I mean... Don't get me wrong, you look good.”
You shrug, walking closer to their level, plopping down next to Andrea. “It's a habit I took from working at the hospital, it saves me the worry of my hair looking a certain way,” you explain, looking down at the radio.
“Oh, yeah, I guess that's smart!”
Andrea hums, nodding her head, agreeing with her little sister.
“So... What are we waiting for?” you ask, nudging your chin toward the radio.
“We're waiting for a signal, I guess,” Andrea says, an unconvinced look on her face. “It's been twenty days. No signals.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “Twenty days? Twenty days of what?”
“Of the outbreak? (Y/N), you told me you were keeping count!” Amy jumps in, confused by your question.
“Oh! Yeah, right...” you say after a moment, letting out an awkward chuckle. “I lost count, sorry.”
You feel a sense of dread form itself in the pit of your stomach. Had it really been only twenty days since everything started?
Didn't Rick wake up on the sixtieth day?
You're screwed.
Thank you for reading!
Interactions and reblogs are welcomed and greatly appreciated, thank you in advance.
꩜ Tag list: @magi-the-writer
(don't hesitate to comment below if you want to be tagged for every updates!)
꩜ Summary: You wake up in a yellow tent with no clear memory of how you got there. At first, everything feels strangely calm — soft light, scattered belongings, and the distant sound of life outside. But as you explore your surroundings, small details begin to feel wrong, and familiar objects raise more questions than answers. When voices finally reach you from outside the tent, that fragile sense of safety begins to fall apart.
꩜ Disclaimer: Before you join the submarine and fully navigate this story with me, I must warn you of a few things! This The Walking Dead fanfiction contains original characters. I must say, I've never been a fan of those type of fanfiction but I did not want the main character (you) to follow Rick and/or Daryl like a little duckling who has no idea how to manage herself. If this type of fanfiction isn't your thing, I'm sorry, but I just wanted to explore different themes that the series does not include or briefly included. (Oh, and I needed sacrifices...) I will also try my best to make this fanfiction poc friendly! I can't imagine how annoying/frustrating it is when the writer obviously describes a white woman when it says "x reader". Oh, and this fanfiction won't be always canon since I've decided to save some characters (but I won't kill off any characters who are supposed to live either)!
꩜ Summary: As another quiet morning settles over the quarry camp, you struggle to shake off the strange sense of disconnect that’s followed you since waking up. Between awkward conversations, laundry duty with Andrea and Amy, tending to Carl’s injured hand, and uncovering small pieces of a life you don’t fully remember, the camp begins to feel both comfortingly familiar and deeply unsettling — but after taking a walk alone through the woods in search of a moment of peace, you come face to face with something that leave you questioning far more than just your place in the apocalypse.
꩜ A/N: Second chapter! I'm very proud of myself for posting it a week after the first one because I'm not known for being consistent and usually is stopped abruptly by writer block (which is a pain in the ass). English is still not my first language (when will that change may you ask? Never) so sorry for any grammar and/or spelling mistakes, or even sentences that might be harsh to the eye. Thank you for taking the time to read this and hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
Previous || Next
You spend a good fifteen minutes staring at the other tents and dead fires, the blackened wood staring right back at you.
The sound of your shoes is almost inaudible on the grass as you walk away from your own tent. Your feet drag you toward the most recognizable thing that the quarry held, Dale's RV.
The man himself is on top of the roof of the large vehicle, looking at the horizon, probably to see if any danger was coming toward the camp. You look up, squinting as the sun hit right above this area.
As if feeling your stare, Dale turns his head toward you. He gets up from his low seat, adjusting the strap of his shotgun on his shoulder before putting on a smile.
“Well, hello,” he says your way. “Sleep okay? Me, Andrea and Amy were starting to get worried. You never sleep this late.”
You stare at him, unblinking, as if he might disappear within the next second. After a moment, you shake yourself out of it.
“Uh—yeah...” you say, a little louder than necessary.
Awkward.
You feign a cough. “My sleeping bag was... somehow comfier than normal, I guess,” you add with an uncertain smile.
Dale makes a face, unsure of why you were acting that way, before his smile widens. “That's great news then!” He says, his tone mixing up with a hint of confusion.
The awkward moment is cut short as someone pats your back, the force pushing you a bit forward as you weren't prepared for it.
“What's up with you today?” Amy asks as she sees your body sway from the impact of her affectionate pat. You turn to look at her, hiding your sweaty palms in the back pockets of your jeans.
“Nothing—it's just...” You say defensively. Surely you couldn't be figure out the first twenty minutes here. “Ever woken up confused? I mean... I don't know. I guess I forgot our situation for a moment,” you add, hoping that would satisfy her.
“Oh, yeah. Totally,” Amy says, offering you a smile before linking her arm with yours. “Come on now. Andrea's gonna be pissed if you miss laundry day again,” she says, dragging you away from the RV, toward the lake. Her hand raise to wave goodbye to Dale, the man offering her the same gesture.
You were still very confused as to what was happening right now.
Scrubbing someone's shirt beside Andrea and Amy, you mostly keep to yourself as the two sisters chatted. Deep in your existential crisis, you don't notice the looks they give you.
Andrea lets the cloth she was scrubbing fall into the metallic basket, staring straight into your skull. “What's up with you today?” she asks dryly.
You look up at her. “I've heard that before.”
She sends you a look, raising her eyebrows. You let out a quiet sigh, shrugging as you let the shirt fall back into your own basket.
“It's stupid,” you start, unsure of how to get yourself out of this situation.
“I'm sure it's not.”
Your eyes fidget all over her face before doing the same for Amy's, who was also staring at you, scanning them.
And as you open your mouth, you hear a yell coming from your right. You turn your head around as the two other women stand up in concern.
Carl, followed closely by Sophia, Eliza and Louis, runs toward you three. You stand up as he stops right in front of you.
“I cut my hand,” the boy says, raising his hand to show the damage. “Mom said to come to you.”
Your eyebrow raise at the end of his statement, both of your hands coming up to take his smaller one. “It's not deep... What happened?” You ask, making sure to soften your confused tone as you look at the damage.
You had quite the medical background, having pursued nursing studies after secondary school. You suppose your... alternative self had roughly the same experience, considering you were apparently the designated nurse of the camp.
You’re extremely confused when the boy starts rambling about a branch being a little too sharp, but you assume that’s just a kid thing.
“Go ask your mom to disinfect it. Do not use hand sanitizer,” you say, your tone balancing firmness with softness. “Water mixed with a bit of salt is perfect... Go on. I'm going to check something in my tent.”
And with that you abandoned Andrea and Amy to the laundry task, ushering the four children toward the center of the quarry as you jog back toward your yellow tent.
You shuffle your tent open, rummaging through the few bags and scattered belongings on the ground in search of the black tube. After a moment, you come up empty-handed.
But you do find car keys.
Which means you have a vehicle.
Keys in hand, you leave your tent in a hurry to the cluster of cars scattered around the quarry. Pressing the lock button, you hear a single honk and see a flash of blue in the corner of your vision.
You turn your head and push on the same button, a Toyota Echo 2000 honking back at you.
You basically throw yourself into the driver's door, clumsily trying to open the door before face palming when you remember that you had locked the vehicle. Twice.
You unlock the car, entering it with a sigh. Opening the glove compartment on the passenger side, your eyes brighten at the sight of the tube you'd been searching for.
You snatch it, deciding to explore the vehicle later.
You find Carl a few moments later, his mother gently rubbing a wet cloth on the palm of his hand. “Did you put salt in it?” you ask, your eyes still on the boy as you pull a nearby camping chair to sit on it.
Lori turns to look at you, hands resting on her hips. “I did,” she says, nodding to herself. “Do you—do you need me to go get bandages, maybe?”
“If we have some, yeah. Dale probably has that in his RV.” You had absolutely no idea if what you've said was true, but you figured people usually stocked that kind of things in RVs.
You show the tube to Carl as to include the boy in your conversation. “Polysporin. This may be the best thing man invented,” you comment, a smile appearing on your lips as you squeezed the clear gel on your index finger.
“Why?”
You gently spread the gel over the thin cut, massaging the substance into his skin with a circular motion. “Because this can heal a lot of things. It's an antibiotic—you know what antibiotic mean right?” you start, glancing up at the twelve-year-old, still massaging the gel into his palm.
He nods, even though it was obvious he had no idea what you were talking about.
You exhale through your nose, your smile widening. “It's a medication that you either, inhale—like pills, for example—or apply directly to the infected area, like the gel I'm using,” you start, observing his expression. “—it's to get rid of all the mean bacteria around and inside your wound.”
Lori finally comes back, roll of bandages, scissors and tape in hand. She hands you the items, resting the palms of her hands on her son's shoulders. She gives an appreciative smile. “Thank you for doing this.”
“Being useful is the only thing I know,” you mumble out, wrapping his hand firmly before cutting it. Making sure it sticks, you pat the back of Carl's hand. “Come see me later, we'll apply some more.”
You ruffle his hair clumsily, unsure if you were actually allowed. Lori sends you a smile before you get up from the chair, walking back toward your car.
Entering the vehicle, you close the door shut as you observe the interior. You open the glove compartment, sighing as you found mostly junk. You open the sun visor above the driver seat, immediately spotting a picture tucked into the small shut mirror. You take it, bringing the picture closer.
There was you and your mother, the picture probably taken by your father. Both of you wore toques and winter clothes, your own hat falling on your face as it was too big. Your mother held a Tim Hortons cup, as she was always of coffee fanatic, something you did not pick up.
Something in the pit of your stomach tighten as you did remember this picture.
You smile despite yourself at the memory. It had been your first winter in Montreal, this much snow being something quite new for you and your family.
After a moment of just staring at the picture, you continue exploring the vehicle. You find yet again junk and trash.
You exit the car, sighing as you didn't have a clue of what was currently happening.
You had taken the time to go on a walk. Which may seem stupid for everyone else back at the quarry, but you couldn't stand another second around fictional people.
You clumsily walk deeper into the forest, the cicadas singing louder as you approached them. You mentally hoped that you wouldn't cross path with a walker as you did not pack a weapon.
Stupid, you think to yourself.
But who could blame you? It's not like being in a fictional apocalypse was an every day occurrence for you.
Perhaps the universe wasn't on your side because just a few minutes later you bump into a walker.
You freeze, as it was the first time you saw them in person, the walker snarling and groaning your way lazily. You were about to push it away when you realize that it had completely ignored you.
It limps away toward the camp. It doesn't go very far as a sudden bolt pierced its brain abruptly, the walker falling on the ground with a faint thud.
Your eyes stay lock on the corpse as Daryl passed you, sending you a look before taking back his arrow from the body.
He cleans the dirty edge using his pants before turning to look at you.
“The hell you're doin' out here, nurse?”
Thank you for reading!
Interactions and reblogs are welcomed and greatly appreciated, thank you in advance.
꩜ Summary: You wake up in a yellow tent with no clear memory of how you got there. At first, everything feels strangely calm — soft light, scattered belongings, and the distant sound of life outside. But as you explore your surroundings, small details begin to feel wrong, and familiar objects raise more questions than answers. When voices finally reach you from outside the tent, that fragile sense of safety begins to fall apart.
꩜ A/N: I'm actually shitting my pants right now... Uhhh I hope this first chapter will get you interested in reading the rest! English is not my first language, so bear with me if there's any spelling mistakes, or even sentences that are harsh to the eyes... I really tried to correct myself! Anyway, have fun reading!
Next || Masterlist
There's nothing more that you like than sleeping.
The comforting sensation of being wrapped in fluffy blankets, creating a warm cocoon around your being was everything you could ever wish for. And fortunately for you, that sensation came every single night, as you purposely had bought soft fabrics to suffocate yourself each day.
You always enjoyed sleeping with nature sounds. Never too loud, as you were quite the light sleeper, and the loud noises could possibly ruin your night.
You smile contently at the sounds of crickets and cicadas around you. Your limbs stretched lazily as you felt a warm sensation, as if the sun was hitting your whole body.
After a moment of just enjoying the moment of coziness and calm, you open your eyes.
You're met with yellow.
A dread feeling forms itself in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes widen as your upper rises, never leaving the warm and endless yellow that was over your head.
Finding the courage to break the stare, your gaze shifts lower, observing your surroundings.
Your legs fidget under the covers before stopping entirely when you realize that you were sitting inside a green sleeping bag. Your breath quickens in confusion as you shakily unzips the sleeping bag.
You crawl out of it, feeling the hard sensation of the groundsheet, small and sharp pebbles digging into the palms of your hands. You let out a quiet and annoyed wince at the feeling before fully getting up, being awkwardly stopped by the low roof of the tent.
The cicadas outside kept singing, now a few chirps echoing along with them, as you look down at yourself. You knock over a water bottle, it being fortunately closed, into the ground by accident as you tried to sit back down. The feeling of having to bend down your upper body as you were standing up was incredibly annoying and awkward.
Plopping back on the sleeping back, your eyes observe the inside of the tent. There's a few clothing items scattered around, blushing at the sight of what looked like one of your pair of panties on a closed lantern. You snatch the item, examining the pattern of the fabric.
You trace the lace of the plum underwear, the ribbon mocking you.
"Those actually belong to me," you whisper under your breath, as if scared of concretizing the moment. Your eyes shift back up to continue to examine the inside of the yellow tent.
You stretch out your arm to grab the nearest backpack, tugging the heavy item with a bit of a struggle. Your heartbeat had slowed down as the minutes passed, the warmth of the sun above having its way of calming your nerves.
You zip open the backpack and you're met with what you'd consider a junk backpack.
Protein bars being the first thing you see. You take one of the few you apparently had, eyeing the brand. You compare it to the others, noting how all of them somehow contained chocolate chips.
The next thing you get out is a sunscreen bottle, the smiley sun mocking you in a way. You put the bottle next to you, having the dreadful feeling that you would somehow need it.
Your hand digs deeper before being stopped by the crinkly sound of plastic. You pat the item before getting it out.
Your eyes widen at the sight of red Bigfoot feet. "Oh, my God," you say, a bit more loudly than you intended, bringing the package closer to your face. "Allan Candy... Wow! Can't believe I have that."
With a newfound eagerness, you rip open the package, plopping a foot into your mouth. You hum at the taste, chewing slowly as if to memorize it.
Your exploration and candy savoring moment is abruptly cut short as a dark figure appears infront of the closed tent opening. Your eyes stay on the figure, the soft sweetness melting inside your cheek as you freeze.
The figure seems to hesitate before it's joined two others. From the outlines of their bodies, you can see a man and two women.
The man and one of the women seems to bicker before the other feminine figure stepped closer to the opening, her fingers tracing the top of it.
"(Y/N)?" A soft voice echoes behind the yellow entrance. "Are you okay in there? You've been inside for a while now."
Your breath hitches, your heartbeat picking up. Her hand trails down to the zipper on the tent, starting to open it. You look down at yourself to see if you were at least wearing something decent, which you were definitely not, being only in your underwear.
Your hand reaches out to the nearest blanket, hiding your partly naked body as the tent opened.
You're met with... Amy?
Your eyes stay still on the woman as she eyes the inside of your tent, her eyes stopping at the opened package of raspberry candy.
"You said you were going to share next time," Amy says, her tone light, even as she feigns annoyance. "And honestly? I can't believe candy is the first thing you eat in the morning. I thought better of you," she scolds you.
You blink at her words, shocked by the normalcy of the situation. "W—what?" You stutter out.
She lets out a sigh, already exiting the tent. "Dress up! It's the end of the world, dumbass, not a family brunch." And with that, she disappears, leaving with the two other unknown figures.
You stay silent for a moment, the pit of your stomach setting still as the door of your tent flaps with the wind.
You hurry your body off the sleeping back, trying to find proper clothes. You wiggle yourself into a nearby pair of jeans, happy to see they weren't high rise before sliding your upper body into a black camisol.
The top stopped a little under your belly button, disappointed setting in your heart as you didn't have a mirror to see how you looked. Your head turned from side to side, trying to find a way to look at your bottom, an habit of making sure your ass didn't look fat, in a bad way, of course. You frown at the sight of the lace of your panties sticking out, pushing the fabric down to hide it.
You slip on a pair of socks then the only sneakers you had, climbing out of the yellow tent clumsily.
The wind brush against your hair, pushing it off of your face in a refreshing way. You look up, squinting as the sun peaked through a few tree branches that was draped over your tent.
You turn your head to the side, a bit surprised to see other tents and little dead bonfires.
You had a bad feeling about this.
~~~
Thank you for reading!
Interactions and reblogs are welcomed, thank you in advance.
☙ As of right now, I'm mainly writing for the fandoms/characters below, but will likely expand the list as time goes on. *(feel free to suggest me shows to watch!!!)
☙ Genres that I write are fluff, smut (+18) and angst.
☙ I only write x Reader fanfictions.
☙ All of my fanfictions are implied to be for female readers with she/her pronouns.
☙ Feel free to send in a request when it will be open! (Please read the Request Guidelines before submitting).
☙ Yellow Submarine Masterlist (Daryl Dixon X Female Reader)
☙ Tides Of Temptations (Negan Smith x Female Reader Smut)
Content Warning: smut (+18), very badly written smut below (and I don't mean grammatically speaking...)
Author's Note: My first ever post on here... Kinda nervous! Also first time I ever write smut. I can't believe Negan is the first character I post about to be honest... Very surprised by myself.
Your brain melted at every thrust Negan delivered into your quivering body, your nails clawing at his back desperately.
The man above you lets out a groan mixed with a chuckle, rising on his palms so he can look at your face properly. “Ah... Sweetheart, easy, easy—!” he says, his pace not wavering.
Reluctantly, your nails leave his back, coming down to grip the blankets cradling your head. Letting out a sharp cry at a particularly brutal thrust, Negan bends down to crash his lips against your softer ones.
“Negan—! Negan...” you moan, your voice shaky and breathy as your eyes blink open.
The man shushes you, his tone teasingly mocking. His hands come down to your hips—lifting them slightly—forcing the arch of your back to deepen. He groans at the slight change of angle, sliding a hand from your hip to your chest, toying with your breast eagerly.
The feeling of his cock pounding deeper into your walls makes your eyes roll into the back of your skull, your mouth opening in a shameless moan.
You hear Negan laugh at your noises, the hand that had been squeezing your bosom raised in the air for a second before slapping it playfully back down.
The pain heightens your pleasure in the weirdest way—not that you particularly care—shivers running down your spine.
“I think... I'm close...!” you whine.
“Yeah?” Negan utters, sweat dripping onto your face as he slumps his weight on top of you. His thrusts become a bit more sloppy, clumsy—meaning he’s as close as you are to that hill. “Take it, baby—take me.”
His thumb slips between your bodies, reaching down to where you’re connected. He rubs your bundle of nerves messily, groaning against your ear as your walls clench tighter around his member.
The sudden—even if awkward—assault overwhelms your poor, abused mound. Your cunt pulses around his cock as you come with a cry, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to press him closer.
His thrusts don’t falter as he pounds you through your high, biting where your neck and shoulder meet in desperation.
It takes only a few seconds for Negan to follow, slamming his pelvis against yours in one sharp movement.
You pant and moan quietly as you feel his seed flow inside you, purposely squeezing his member tighter—as if to tease him.
You feel him chuckle lowly against your neck as his whole body slumps onto yours, humming with satisfaction.
“Your sweet pussy is perfect,” he whispers into your ear before kissing your cheek affectionately.
You hum back, tired, smiling at his words as you close your eyes—ready to meet Morpheus.
