#twd x reader
Trinkets (Glenn Rhee x Platonic!Reader)
You collect items from significant points during the apocalypse.
TW: mention of suicidal thoughts and description of gore under the cut!
The first thing you ever collected was a pebble. It was the smoothest pebble you had ever seen, its shape so symmetrical you felt a compulsion to slide it into your pocket to treasure forever. It became a comfort to stroke it’s smooth surface, to calm your racing heart whenever you were nervous. It reminded you of a time when all of this had begun, and you were alone until he sat besides you.
There was a slight chill in the air. You tugged your jumper closer to your chest, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine. From here you could smell the acidic smoke drifting from the fire at camp; you couldn’t face them today. They were all laughing, chatting mindlessly as if they weren’t plagued with nightmares over what had transpired over the past few weeks. Nearly everyone sitting around that campfire had someone from their life before, someone they could trust and confide in, and those that didn’t had settled in so well it’s like they’d always been there.
You had no one.
You never settled in or found an old friend or family member by the craziest of coincidences. Just like always you could only rely on yourself. Sometimes that wasn’t enough. Sometimes when the memories of blood and gore become too much your body craves the familiar comfort of being pulled into an embrace, the weight of their body against yours enough to distract you for a precious few minutes. Here though? No one here had the power to do that, the fleeting touches of strangers only adding to your anxiety and not soothing.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you rested your hands behind you, feeling the pinch of the pebbles beneath as you looked up at the night sky. If there was one perk of the end of the world, it would be the way the stars shone so bright. Up there, there were galaxies and civilisations that you could only dream of. You weren’t even looking up at the stars in real time, the light taking so long to reach earth that you were a mere observer to history by simply looking up. You felt like those stars. Caught up in the past and trying to focus on the present, and failing miserably.
“Hey.” A voice broke you out of your stupor. You jumped, spinning around to have your heart rate calm when you realised it was Glenn. He was one of those that had arrived at the camp alone, his friendly nature allowing him to integrate into the group dynamic with ease. You envied him for that.
Meekly, you responded. “Hi.”
“You should come by the fire, it’s chilly out tonight.” You noticed how Glenn was shuffling on his feet, gesturing a hand behind him to the fire.
“I’m fine.” Your body took that moment to betray you. A visible shiver rocked your body.
“Okay… just know we’re here if you need us.” You heard the faintest of sounds, almost like a zipper being undone. A soft fabric fell into your lap. It smelt strongly of Glenn. You looked up at him; he merely shrugged.
This act of kindness brought a thin sheen to your eyes. This interaction was the first in a long time to remind you of what it was like to have a connection to someone, and for the briefest of blips, you were able to live in the present. Before you could help it, the words fell out of your mouth. “Stay.”
“Are you sure?”
A weak smile curved onto your lips. You had isolated yourself from the group, terrified of reliving the pain of the past, but in doing so you made yourself even more miserable. Maybe you did need a friend. “Just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I have to be lonely.”
He walked towards you. He stood close enough you could feel his body heat: you relished in it, feeling it warm your cold bones. “You’re not alone, you have us.”
His presence was slowly warming both your body and soul. For the first time since arriving at the quarry, you felt included.
As you’d patted the ground beside you, your hand fell on the pebble.
The second thing you collected was the tiniest, most delicate of feathers. It was a muted brown, having fallen off a chicken at Maggie’s farm. It had begun to fray with time yet you still held onto it as if it was made of gold.
You stood by the chickens and the hens, watching them chirp with a distant smile on your face. They reminded you of before.
“Would you like to feed them?” Maggie’s voice interrupted your day dream. You jumped five feet into the air. “Sorry, I just noticed you watching them. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
You nodded.
“Let me grab you some chicken feed, I’ll be right back.” Maggie dipped away from your line of sight. You returned to gazing at the chickens with a lazy smile on your face.
Maggie came back quickly, two baskets in hand. She passed you one, showing you to spread the feed near the chickens. You fell into a pattern of sharing the feed, enjoying the joyful clucks the chickens made.
“Can I ask you a question?” You nodded your head. “Your friends with Glenn, right?”
You thought back on your memories of him. Sitting under the stars at the quarry to help you feel more relaxed, him saving your life as a walker was about to rip into you when the camp was overrun, and how he comforted you when the incessant beeping of the timer attacked you at the CDC. As a group you had all been through a lot; Glenn was always there. He sensed your nervousness, your fear, and he could make it melt away with just a funny comment or a smile. Friend felt like a strange term to use for someone you classed as family.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Why is he such a prick?”
You froze, frowning. “He’s one of the kindest people I know.”
“Nice people can be pricks too.”
“Has something gone on?” Maggie stayed silent, her gaze fixed onto the chickens. You sighed. “He might have done a prick-ish thing, whatever it is, but I can tell you he is not a prick.”
“Good to know.”
“Do you like him?”
“Excuse me?”
“I see the way you look at him, Maggie, it’s kind of obvious.”
“Of course I like him. Why does it matter to you?”
“Because if you do, I need to give the "you ever hurt my friend” speech.“
"Save your breath.”
Maggie turned to leave, you placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What you two have is good. Please don’t throw it away.”
She left. As odd as it sounded, it was nice to be involved in a drama that didn’t involve walkers or blood shed.
You stayed by the chickens for a while, thriving in the normality of it all. The farm felt like it was frozen in time, taken from before things truly hit the fan. The chickens were clucking happily amongst themselves.
You felt a presence move besides you. From the corner of your eye you saw Glenn leaning against the chicken coup, looking down. Something was dripping off of his jaw.
“I’ve fucked up.” Glenn whispered, head bowed low.
Concern flooded you. The chickens long forgotten, you turned to focus all of your attention on Glenn, unable to hold back your gasp. His hat was damp, and what you had mistaken as sweat was a yellow liquid slipping down his face.
“What the hell happened?” You took his face in your hands, swiping the liquid away with a thumb. He shied away from your touch.
“Maggie cracked an egg on my head.” You opened your mouth to protest; before you could, he interrupted you. “I deserved it.”
“Is everything okay between you two?”
Glenn took a deep breath, setting his jaw. “I saw something I shouldn’t and now I’m worried for the group. For all of us.”
“I’m assuming it has to do with Maggie?”
“I saw her family, Y/N. I saw her brother and…”
“Aren’t they dead?” Glenn made no effort to confirm what you knew. The pieces started to fall into place as you realised Glenn was trying to tell you that the Greene family were hiding walkers on the very farm you took refuge on. As much as you wanted to be angry, you couldn’t help the squeeze of your heart. Having lost all of your family in the early days, you could relate. You imagined this was them holding onto hope for a cure.
Reaching out, you squeezed Glenn’s shoulder reassuringly. “What are you going to do?”
“What do you think I should do?” He was looking at you as if you held all of the answers. Since you two had become friends, you couldn’t remember a single time he had asked for your help. He was smart and resourceful, seeming to know everything. As much as you wanted to help him, all you could do was shake your head.
“Glenn…That’s not my choice to make.”
“You’re not going to tell anyone?”
“Only if you don’t want me to.”
Glenn seemed to sag in relief. In a voice so small you had to strain to hear him over the chickens, he confided. “I don’t know what to do.”
“No matter what, I support your decision.” You bumped him with your hip. “I think you definitely need to shower.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Glenn took his hat off of his head, spinning it around in his hands. “My hats ruined, isn’t it?”
“We can get you a new one.”
“No… I think I’ve grown out of it.”
You took the hat from his hands, turning it around. A glimpse of brown caught your attention. You inspected it further, making out the tiniest of quills. A small laugh slipped past your lips.
As delicately as you could, you pulled the feather out of the hat.
The third item you collected was a torn page of a book. It looked like it had been from a self help book, the advice cut off as the page ended. There was one line underlined three times in pencil.
Glenn lingered by the cell door, rapping his hands against the iron railings. You turned your head towards him, a tired smile on your lips.
“What?”
“Wanna help clear the fence?” A spare knife was already in his hand, outreached towards you. Groaning, you threw your head against the pillow.
“I’m guessing that’s not a suggestion.”
“It’s pretty bad out there and I need company.”
“Ugh,” you climbed out of the bed, moving out of the cell. You jokingly knocked his shoulder with yours. “You owe me.”
“Yeah, sure.” He rolled his eyes, pushing your arm and sending a teasing smile your way.
“Is there a reason you’re asking me and not your girlfriend?”
“I miss my best friend.”
His words made your heart warm. While it had taken you some time to settle into the group like you had once envied him for, you were closest to Glenn. He had supported you, and you had supported him, more times than you could count. “Aw, I’m your best friend?”
“Well, there’s not exactly a lot of choice.”
Mocking offence, you kicked the back of his leg. He slightly tripped, turning around to give you a playful glare. “Oh fuck off.”
His words played on your mind as you methodically drove the knife into the walkers, watching them drop to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. It was the first time he had admitted out loud that he was your best friend, and all you had done was hit him. While it was something you both knew, it felt different hearing the words proclaimed out loud. Oh god, you thought to yourself, I’m a terrible friend.
“Glenn?”
“Hm?”
“You’re my best friend too.”
“Really?” He said breathlessly, pausing from killing the walkers. He was turned towards you and now you could feel the nerves bubbling in your gut. You had convinced yourself you wanted to tell him everything, and now your anxiety was sky high. Before you could think too much into it, you started to speak.
“Yeah, really. No one else tried as hard as you to help me fit in. I never told you, but at the CDC… I thought about it. For a split second I wanted to stay in that room with Jacqui and Jenner. The dead were walking, my family were dead or nowhere to be found and everything I knew had been turned upside down. But then you held me as I cried, and you fought to get out. I realised I had to get out for you.”
“I… I never knew that.”
Your head was bowed, words almost lost to the groans of the walkers. “I was ashamed.”
“There’s no shame in wanting to give up.” Glenn wiped the sweat from his brow. He turned to face you, his face the most serious you had ever seen it. “You got back up, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you too.”
Glenn reached towards you, wrapping you into a hug. You were enveloped in the scent of sweat and dirt but it was his scent. He held you so tightly you could feel the imprint of Hershel’s watch pressing into your hip but you didn’t care.
A loud animalistic growl made you both jump. Pulling out of the embrace, you both resumed trying to clear the fence. Time seemed to fly by as your arms grew steadily more tired and your back felt as if it was burning under the Georgian heat. The grip you had on the knife was slick. All of the undead blurred into one, until a certain walker caught your attention.
“Oh my god Glenn, look at this.” You gestured to a walker pawing at the fence. Nothing seemed abnormal until you looked at their chest, where a page had been pinned. One line in the book had been underlined.
The person that can help you is you.
Besides the underlined quote, a note was scribbled. “This is your sign to carry on.”
You could imagine some poor soul pinning the note to the walker’s chest. You imagined that walker falling on top of you, your arms weak, contemplating relaxing your arms for just a moment long enough to be torn apart. But then you’d see those words. You wanted to believe that someone placed that note there to save other people, it might have been the person who had turned, to provide a light when the world succumbed to the darkness.
Glenn plucked the page off of the walker’s chest, batting aside it’s probing hands. He handed it to you, a small smile on his face.
You rubbed the pebble, methodically stroking it’s smooth surface. The sensation brought you a sense of calm. It was so dark inside of the container you could barely see your own hand in front of your face. The hard floor provided a strange comfort as the trinkets in your back pocket pressed into you.
Things had changed rather quickly.
You never realised how fast you could go from having a group, to having no one. The prison fell, and in the chaos you didn’t see a single living soul. You could only pray that if any others survived, they didn’t follow the train tracks like you had.
Sanctuary for all, what a crock of bullshit.
You had fought viciously to get here, fending off walkers, the elements, mother nature and the nature of man. You were so relieved to see the Terminus sign that you ignored the feeling in your gut, and now you were sitting in container D, waiting along with your other captives for god knows what.
If there was one small mercy, it was that they didn’t take your collectibles. They had no use for a pebble, a feather and a loose page. They hadn’t hesitated to strip you of your hat and jacket.
A thudding sounded on the roof of the container. You didn’t even flinch as a gap in the roof appeared, a metal canister falling to the floor. You’d been here too many times to know what this meant.
The Termites entered the container, snatching at two men with you. You kept stroking the pebble, hoping they would walk right past you.
They walked towards you.
Dread filled you. There was safety of the unknown inside this container; but out there? You had been here long enough to know that the prisoners who left here didn’t return.
You swallowed your fear, fixing them with the coldest stare you could until the bag was thrown over your head. You were pulled harshly to your feet. You tried to thrash out of their grip but there was no use. You cupped the pebble so tightly in your hand you could feel your fingernails digging into your palm.
You were dragged for what felt like miles. You kept tripping over your feet. You found yourself hoping that you would always be walking, and never reach the destination that you were certain was going to be your death bed.
They threw roughly to the floor. You fell to your knees, the cool floor freezing you to the bone. In one swift movement the bag was ripped from your head.
The first thing you saw was grey. The room could only be described as grey. Grey trough in front of you, grey floor, grey walls. A table towards the back of the room was grey; the thing on top was not. You couldn’t hide your shock as you saw the body sat atop it, a leg missing.
The dots connected.
You were being held captive by cannibals.
You tried to swallow your fear. It felt like you were choking.
Four bodies were brought in besides you. You focused on them to distract yourself from the bubbling panic filling your veins. The bags were removed, your heart both soaring and sinking.
How ironic, that you would reunite in such dire circumstances.
At the same time you recognised them, they recognised you. Glenn sat besides you, his eyes wide with fear at your dejected state. Rick, Daryl and Bob were sat besides him, all gagged and bound like you were.
You tried to muster a smile, struggling to fight past the fabric tied around your mouth. All they did was stare at you, dumbfounded to have found a friend in this hell hole.
The first swing of the bat. At first you were confused, eyes following the sound. The man brought from your container was slumped over. The next moment, they had him pulled upright, slitting his throat.
You were transfixed by the red filling the trough in front of you. It never stopped. The man next to you started to panic, his worries quickly silenced with the swing of the weapon. His blood sprayed on your cheek as they slit his throat.
You felt a presence behind you.
It was at the minute you had the rushing realisation you were the next victim. Your body started to shut down. Memories of your life flashed before your eyes - the joys from before the apocalypse, eating ice cream at the beach and riding a bike until the sun dipped below the sky. They quickly transitioned to memories where the dead walked - you forced yourself to look beyond the bad, thinking about the day you made a friend under the starry sky, how he confided in you besides a chicken coup, and how he held you so tight when you revealed your moment of weakness.
Glenn was squirming beside you. If he wasn’t gagged you knew he would be screaming. You couldn’t muster the energy to try to resist. This was it.
You forced yourself to be brave. You didn’t want to be weak in front of your friends. You hoped with all of your heart that they would be able to escape this hell and make it burn to the ground. You sat with your back rod straight, staring defiantly at the Termite’s lingering around the room. The only indication of your fear was your shaking hands, your thumb seeking that pebble.
You looked at your best friend one last time, feeling the whoosh of the bat.
As more red filled the trough, a pebble, a feather, and a loose page fell to the floor.
Let’s Go Home (The Walking Dead x Reader)
Inspired by the gym scene in All of Us Are Dead, you get cornered in a storage closet by walkers, devising a plan that will have disastrous consequences. TW: graphic description of blood, gore and death.
All of Us Are Dead spoilers below the cut
The rain was thrashing down. The mud beneath your feet was making your steps unsteady yet you were still powering on. The moans of the undead behind you were relentless, acting as your adrenaline as you propelled yourself further on weak legs. Your legs were burning, the makeshift weapon in your hand swinging wildly by your side. Your breaths were leaving you in large huffs but you still pushed yourself faster, forcing your legs to carry you to the glass doors of the gym.
Rick and Daryl were at the front of the group. Sliding through the mud, they clambered up the steps to the doors, ripping them wide open and ushering everyone inside. You all filed into the shelter, leaving muddy tracks behind you as you stepped into the gym, the dreadful weather outside casting little light into the room. You collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. Your lungs felt as if they were on fire. Each inhale was adding to the growing inferno.
“That was close.” Glenn sighed a laugh, sharing a nervous glance with you. You mirrored the action, unable to muster the strength to speak. It felt nice to stop for a moment, your body thanking you for the moment of respite.
“Maybe we can stay here for a…” Rick’s words trailed off as lightning struck. The sudden light lit up the room, giving you all a snapshot of the horror show you had just walked into.
The gym was crawling with walkers.
Your heart stopped in your chest. You prayed that if you stayed still and quiet they wouldn’t notice you; all hopes were dashed as the moment you locked eyes with them, they seemed to look at the group.
Any sense of relief you’d experienced disappeared in a flash. In an instant you were on your feet, kicking the walker closest to you. It tumbled to the ground, giving you enough time to fall behind the rest of the group as they piled into a storage closet, the door slamming shut behind you.
You pressed your back into the door, feeling the shake of the walkers. You grunted with the pressure. You stumbled on your feet as the pressure grew. The door opened a crack, just enough for walkers to poke their fingers through.
Terror flooded you as you realised - this place could be your graveyard. The thought fuelled you to push past the aching limbs and press harder into the door.
Maggie came up besides you, brandishing her knife and chopping the fingers off of the walker. Without missing a beat she pressed her upper body against the door, efficiently slamming the gap closed.
“Thanks,” you breathlessly thanked her, mostly occupied with keeping your feet planted to the ground.
She nodded her head in acknowledgement, her body too being shaken by the sheer force of the walkers.
Casting a glance over your shoulder, you saw Daryl, Rick and Glenn milling around the room, searching the contents. A shot of resentment coursed through you, especially upon seeing Daryl seemingly do nothing.
“A little help would be nice.” You snapped.
“We’re tryna find a way out.” Daryl was equally as snippy. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.
“Can you at least find something to bolt the door with?” A particularly heavy thud nearly pushed you away from the door. Your arms were shaking with the constant pressure. “We’re struggling here.”
“I got it.” Glenn rushed past Daryl and Rick, a mop in his hand. He manoeuvred between you and Maggie, sliding the mop in the door handle.
“Move on three?” You gestured to Maggie, who nodded in agreement. “One. Two. Three.”
The pair of you took a cautious step away from the door, watching the door with attentive eyes. The door bucked with the beating of the undead, the mop securing it in place.
Glenn appeared in your sight again, rolling what looked like a trolley filled to the brim with balls in front of the door. He engaged the brakes with his foot, smiling weakly. “Just in case the mop doesn’t hold.”
You didn’t want to think what would happen if that was the case. The trolley could only hold them for so long, and between you all, you didn’t have the weapons or manpower to overcome the amount of walkers you’d seen out there.
Tumbling to the ground, you took a moment to survey your surroundings. There were more metal crates of balls lined up against another wall, the balls different colours and sizes. Behind that was a bucket full of hockey sticks. You noted that in the back of your mind for later. A red eagle costume was hung up on one of the walls, a layer of dust having settled into the fabric. The walls were white, bar one that featured the school’s logo. A red eagle with the school’s name was imprinted into the brick. It almost made you laugh.
Despite all of this, there were no windows. You were once again reminded how school was a prison, and ironically long after your school years had been finished, you were captive once again.
You rested your head on your knees. Why did the most simple things have to go so wrong? All you’d wanted was to scavenge the school. It appeared to be quiet outside, leading you all into a false sense of security. Turns out, they’d been waiting for the prey to wander into the trap.
“So… what now?” Glenn asked out loud. You looked up from your knees, seeing him sat directly across from you with his arm wrapped around Maggie. You imagined your face was the mirror image of theirs - empty. You wondered if they’d also accepted their fate. You were mentally calculating how long it would take for you all to brave the walkers outside and die, or let nature do its work and kill you in two days. Either way, you had accepted that the only outcome of this situation was grief.
Rick rubbed his beard, his voice so small even the mice would struggle to hear. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” The words slipped out your mouth without meaning to. There was a venomous tone to it even you were shocked to hear.
“Y/N, give the man a break.” Daryl snapped.
“Oh fuck off Daryl.” You spat, trying to push down your rising anger. “If it wasn’t for him we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“He’s jus’ trying his best.”
“And his best is going to get us killed.” You sighed, looking up at Rick. “You’re meant to be our leader. So lead. Tell us how the fuck to get out of this mess.”
“If ya gave the man time to think -”
“We might not have that time!”
The pounding started harder on the door. Daryl huffed, striding towards you. Before you knew it he had you pinned against a grate, his hand scrunched up in your shirt. “Are ya gonna keep your loud ass shut or am I gonna have to do it for ya?”
“I’d like to watch you try.” His grip on your shirt tightened. For a second you thought his fist was going to fly into your face: as much as you hated him, you knew he wouldn’t do that to you. Daryl had a code and while you might be toeing the line to get a beating, you hadn’t passed the mark yet.
“They’re just scared, Daryl, let them go.” Rick placed a gentle hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Reluctantly Daryl let you go, looking as though giving in took a huge physical toll. You softly glared at the man, subtly readjusting the shirt he’d just scrunched up.
Glenn wandered over to where Daryl had you pinned, pushing the grate. “Guys, I think I have an idea.” He spun on his heel, counting the trolleys. “If we can tie these together, we can get to the door.”
“Glenn, you’re a genius.” You reached for the nearest trolley, pulling on the grate. It appeared to be sturdy enough, and once the brake was disengaged, you’d be able to move it. The most dangerous part would be the first part - pushing the trolley’s out - as there was no space in here to make the circle, but once the circle was secured? It would act as a fortress.
He smiled shyly. “Thanks.”
“Reckon we could add the hockey sticks to them? Break them so it’s like a javelin and let the walkers walk right into them?”
“It’s a good idea,” Glenn pondered, looking at the others. “It’ll take time.”
“We don’t have time.” You almost rolled your eyes hearing Daryl echo your words from earlier. Of course he would agree when it’s under his own circumstances. “We could flip the lids, crawl through.”
“We’ll get nowhere that way.” You flipped the lid of a trolley up. “It’ll be best for them to be tall.”
“You do know walkers can climb right?”
Instantly your back was straight. You crossed your arms. “Better than taking our sweet ass time by crawling across and having walkers crush us to death.”
“Yer such a dumbass.”
“Excuse me?” That spark of irritation was quickly becoming a raging fire of anger. You could feel your fists clench and jaw tighten the longer you were in his presence. “Want to say that to me again?”
“So not only are ya a dumbass, yer deaf too.”
“Come here you little shit -” You pounced towards Daryl, Rick grabbing you just in time before your body collided. You fought against his grip, trying desperately to get to Daryl, who merely stepped away from your flailing hands. This only angered you further, a growl of frustration ripping from your body.
“Can you two get along for just five minutes?”
“He’s acting like a child.”
“They’re actin’ like they’re hot shit.”
“Either way, one of you is going to be pissed. Let’s vote on it. Agreed?” Nodding reluctantly, you shifted out of Rick’s grip. “If I let go of you Y/N, do you promise not to scratch Daryl’s eyes out?”
“I guess.” You muttered underneath your breath, feeling Rick release your waist slowly. He stood nearby, one eye trained on you as if he expected you to lunge for Daryl at any given moment. You couldn’t blame him really.
As a group, you decided it would be best to keep the lids of the trolley’s high, Maggie and Rick agreeing with your stance. Daryl did little to hide his displeasure at the end result but said nothing. You could sense his foul mood from a million miles away.
You focused on the task at hand, tying ropes to the trolley’s and securing them together. Your hands grew tired of the constant movement and you could feel his searing glare into your back. You tried to pass it off and carried on, the weight of his gaze growing heavier and heavier with each passing minute.
Your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands. Before you could control yourself, you spun around, seeing Daryl staring at your trolley with the lid flipped high. “What?”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“We voted, get over it.” You turned to continue the task at hand. You could sense his annoyance still. This time when you turned on your heel, it wasn’t a threat you were spitting his way, it was a promise. “If it goes wrong, I’ll take responsibility.”
Daryl nodded, seeming content with your response.
The argument now settled, you all continued to fix the trolley’s and put the plan to action. Time flew past, and soon, the plan was ready to be executed. You stood by your crate, your grip on the metal bars slick as your heart banged loudly in your chest. This was the make or break moment.
Rick stood at the front of the line. He cast a glance at you all from over his shoulder, sensing the nervous tension. “Are you ready?”
“Better now than never.” For once, Daryl said something and you didn’t want to punch him. You were grateful he had spoken up, your own words lost to the panic building in your chest.
Rick removed the mop from the door handles. He opened the doors.
There was no going back now.
As a unit, you all pushed the trolley’s out into the gym. Rick and Daryl took out the nearest walkers, rushing back towards the trolleys to form a circle. Hurriedly they tied to ropes together, binding the trolleys together into a circle shape.
Laughing, you smiled at Glenn. For the first time since you stepped into the gym, there was an ebb of hope lingering in the back of your mind. Maybe this wouldn’t be your death day after all. “It worked.”
“Don’t speak too soon.”
Together you began to push your makeshift shield towards the door. Slowly you began to feel resistance from the other side, the smell of the undead quickly becoming overwhelming. Progress started to slow as more walkers catapulted themselves at the shield. You desperately tried to beat away walkers impeding the progress; each time a walker fell, another would take its place.
The walkers were just too strong. They kept pushing over the top, fighting to make their way in. Your arms burned with effort as you struggled to keep the shield intact.
“Make ‘em tall, great idea Y/N.” Daryl snapped, his muscles bulging as he pushed the shield forwards towards the doors.
Anger surged through you. You tried to focus on that, and not on the ebbing strength. “We would have died in there!”
“An’ we’ll die out here!”
You tuned out Daryl’s mumbling, focusing on keeping the grates as close together as you could. With each passing second more walkers were making their way towards the contraption and it was harder to keep them at bay.
The hope you had started to feel was disappearing with each walker. A thin sheen of sweat was coating your body with the sheer exertion of the task. Your body was fighting to stay alive and your brain was convincing you to keep trying, it’ll all work out.
Maggie cried out. A walker had managed to creep through a crack, grabbing her tightly. It tugged her towards the grate, it’s jaws growing closer to her skin. Your body moved before you could process what was happening, stabbing the walker in the skull. It’s grip fell from Maggie. You frantically grabbed the sides of the grates, pulling them closed.
A sharp pain lit up your hand. Instinctively you pulled your hand back; it was too late. The world seemed to stop as you saw the teeth marks imprinted into your skin. Blood poured down your hand. Your death warrant had now been signed and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.
No one had noticed your turmoil, too busy at keeping the walkers at bay.
“Y/N, get your act together and help us!” Daryl snapped, pushing harder against the grate to no avail. The amount of walkers now swarming the shield was making your greatest asset your greatest weakness.
You smiled sadly at Daryl. Looking at him you saw all of the unresolved fights, the hatred you had towards him. You never could admit the reason you hated him was because you saw so much of yourself in him. And now, you would die without ever having a chance to repent for all the hurtful things you’d ever said to him.
Clearing your throat, you looked at him with blurry eyes. “I said I’d take full responsibility.”
He stared at you blankly as you jumped on top of the crate, pushing the walkers away with your hands. The walkers clawed at you but you didn’t care, your death had already been sealed, there was nothing else that could be done. You felt a sharp tug on the back of your shirt pull you off of the crate. You fell to the ground with a harsh slam. You relished the pain - it reminded you that you were still human.
“The hell you think ya doin’, playing hero?” Daryl snapped, pulling you to your feet.
“It’s too late for me!” You cried out, pulling yourself from his grip. His hands released you, watching with confusion as he noticed how you cradled your hand. Your hand, that had the imprinted teeth marks and dripping with blood. You felt his eyes draw to it. You swore you saw sadness cross his face. Shakily, you smiled. “Just let me help, okay?”
Before anyone could protest, you pushed yourself over the shield. You started dragging the walkers away from the moving shield, watching with a sense of hope as it started to move slowly across the room. You didn’t care about the walkers at your back; your friends were in trouble.
You walked towards the shield, helping pull it towards the doors. A pair of jaws hooked themselves around your shoulder. Your face twisted in pain and yet you kept pulling, your hand tightly gripping the top of the grate.
Another jaw latched onto you. This time you couldn’t disguise your agony as you cried out. Tears streamed down your cheeks.
A hand fell on top of yours. Daryl’s stricken gaze bore into your own as he started screaming at the top of his lungs for them to leave you alone. His grip on your hand tightened. He was borderline hysterical as he watched you be ripped apart, yet still pulled the shield to the door, your movements growing weaker as more blood spurted from your wounds.
More jaws attached themselves to your body. There was no use in hiding your pain as your friends watched you be torn apart.
You prayed he saw the apologies in your eyes, how you wished he would one day forgive you for the unfounded hatred you had towards him. You were grateful that despite everything that had transpired between the two of you, he still comforted you in your final moments on this earth.
“Let’s go home.”
You disappeared into the walkers, using the last of your strength to send a silent plea to whatever higher power was listening.
Please, help them get home.
Fast and Furious (Daryl Dixon x Platonic!Reader)
A run to an abandoned office building gives you chance to flex some skills Daryl didn’t know you had.
It was meant to be a simple run. Alexandria was running out of supplies, the runs were getting more desperate, and the bags getting lighter. So when Daryl stopped the car outside of a derelict office building, switching the engine off, you weren’t exactly surprised. The places you could scavenge within the radius of Alexandra were getting slimmer by the day.
Who knew, maybe it would be a secret gold mine.
“You know, I used to work in a place like this.” You gently shut the door behind you, tugging your bag onto your back.
Daryl glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his lip quirking up. “Oh yeah?”
“Hard to believe, I know.” You laughed, looking up at the building. Fading memories of your old job flashed across your mind - endless paperwork, the high shrill of the phone’s, and the relentless tapping of keyboards. Even thinking of it made your muscles itch to move.
“I don’ think I’ve ever seen ya sat still for more than five minutes.” He quipped. “If yer so familiar, ya might be able to lead us to the good stuff.”
You hummed in agreement, moving towards the building. The car park was bustling with cars, some with blood smeared on the inner windows. Some had a thin layer of dust coating the furniture inside. One car even had the boot opened. Quickly rummaging around the contents, moving aside the bags, you grinned to yourself. Pulling out a tire iron, you gave it a practice swing, feeling the whoosh as you struck air.
“Anything good?” Daryl leaned against the car.
You shrugged. “If we had all day, then maybe.”
He grunted, pushing himself off the car. “Then stop dallying around and get to it.”
Sighing, you gave one last look at the boot and moved towards the building. The closer you got, the knot of dread in your stomach started to grow. The amount of cars versus the number of walkers you’d seen didn’t make sense. The windows of the building were too dark to see anything.
Finding an open window, you gestured Daryl over. He jogged towards you, glancing up at the gap. He hooked his fingers together.
You stared at his hands, and then at how high the gap was. You looked back at him again. “You expect me, to get up there?”
“Ya know I can’t.”
“Right, your back. Sorry, grandpa.”
“Watch yer mouth.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You muttered as reluctantly, you placed one of your feet in his cupped hands. Planting a hand on his shoulder, you ignored the churning in your stomach as Daryl pushed you towards the gap. The window ledge was within touching distance.
“Give it more oomph!”
With a grunt, he pushed you up further. At last you could grasp the window ledge. Your upper arms burned as you pulled yourself up towards the gap slowly, and ever so slowly, you crawled through the gap. You could feel the bottom of the window pane pressing into your spine but you pulled yourself forward, until eventually, you flopped onto the floor on the opposite side with a resounding thud.
Springing to your feet, you pressed your back against the wall, tire iron raised high. Your heart was thudding in your ears. You strained to see anything in the room, cursing the windows so high and the light so dim.
A beat passed, then two. Nothing.
A breath of relief ripped free from your lungs. Shoulders loosening, you shouted out to Daryl, letting him know you were okay. His response was a grunt. Shuffling could be heard on the other side, next thing you know your bag was catapulted through the window.
You jumped out of your skin, grasping a hand to your chest. “What the hell!”
“Did ya want ya bag or not?”
“A warning would have been nice.” You muttered under your breath.
Moving through the dark, you cursed as you accidentally walked into the edges of desks and tripped over bins. Eventually you managed to find the area your bag landed, fumbling around until you found your torch. Switching it on, you started to carefully dance around the desks, seeking out a door. After a few minutes of searching, the faint glow of an emergency light drew your attention. Drawn to it like a moth, you took a step towards it, the gap between you and the door closing. Your hairs stood on end as you saw the door shake. Groans followed.
Cautiously, you stepped away slowly, putting as much distance between the door and you as you could. You carried on your search for a door.
“Y/N?” A hint of worry echoed in Daryl’s voice.
You back hit an old filing cabinet. The metal thudded. The walkers moans grew louder and the shaking door more incessant. You didn’t want to risk talking. Turning your torch towards the window, you flicked it on and off twice - your secret signal to Daryl that you were alright. He must have seen it as he stopped prying for your whereabouts.
Stumbling around, you tripped over your feet. A slight jangle echoed throughout the space. You froze, holding your breath as you waited for the incessant pounding on the fire exit to calm down. Curious, you shone the torch in the direction of the noise. At first, you saw a glint of metal, and then the key fob.
You almost jumped for joy.
Snatching up the keys, your mind whirred with the possibilities. You could take it back and scavenge it for spare parts. You could use it as another car so more survivors could search for supplies further away from camp. Hell, even the thought of being able to drain it of petrol felt like a blessing. Maybe this trip wasn’t as much of a waste after all.
A loud clattering drew your attention. The pounding of the walkers behind you attacked your ears. Your palms started to sweat as you hastily pocketed the keys, lifting the tire iron and torch in the direction of the noise.
A crossbow dropped through the gap. A disgruntled red neck followed. He jumped to his feet, snatching up the crossbow and lifting it up high. He spun around on his feet, body tense. Daryl opened his mouth to shout, his words catching in his throat as he saw you, partially blinding him with the torch light and deep lines ingrained in your forehead.
“…You’re okay?”
You stared at him. “Yeah, I told you.”
“I heard jack shit.”
“Daryl, I did the secret signal. You know,” you moved the torch and clicked it on and off twice.
Daryl stared back at you with an equally blank look. “Y/N. It’s day time.”
“And.”
Daryl sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How the ever loving fuck was I meant ta see that.”
The words processed for a minute. With the gap being so high, and the sun outside drowning out the torchlight, he wouldn’t have been able to see it. Meekly, you offered an apology. “Oh.”
“Dumbass.”
You wanted to curse him out, when a random thought struck you. “Wait, how did you manage to get in here?”
“Found a dumpster around tha corner.”
“So you’re telling me this all could have been avoided if you used your damn eyes?” Your mind was telling you to keep ranting when you paused. The rumbling from the behind grew even louder. “That’s why I didn’t say anything!”
“Ya could have said.”
“That was the problem!”
“Ya could have said quietly, ya don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“Excuse me for being concerned you wouldn’t be able to hear me, you-”
“Don’t say it.”
“You -”
“Don’t.”
“Pensioner.”
“Yer a lil shit.”
You opened your mouth to snap at him again. Your jaw hanged open as the distinct sound of doors slamming attacked your senses. Spinning around, you saw a stream of walkers flood through the open doors, grinding jaws and arms reaching towards you.
“Run!” Daryl pushed you forwards, sending an arrow into one of the walkers, argument forgotten. You followed his instruction without complaint, dashing through the office and throwing open the nearest door you could.
The pair of you sprinted through the corridors, dodging the arms of the undead. They started to pile out of the other rooms, desperately seeking your flesh. It seemed like they had been in hibernation - and they were starving. Your lungs were burning and calves aching but you carried on, following the emergency lights until you saw the dim glowing sign.
“This way.” You pulled the back of Daryl’s vest, making him stumble backwards. He followed you blindly as you ploughed through the emergency exit, knocking over the walkers who had been lingering behind it.
You had gone from the frying pan, into the fire.
The car park was deserted when you first arrived. Now, you could barely make out what was ten feet in front of you, the way crowded with bodies. All attention turned to the pair of you.
“Where the fuck did they all come from!” You exclaimed, feeling a hand tug you backwards. Stumbling, you fumbled for the knife at your belt, slicing the strap off your backpack. Their grip fell away, the backpack swinging awkwardly on your back as you sprinted towards the car you came in.
“Get to the car!”
You ducked out of the way of prying hands, swinging the tire iron endlessly. Your biceps were on fire yet you couldn’t stop, you had to keep swinging.
“This way,” Daryl shouted, beckoning you to follow his steps. Dutifully you were hot on his tail, choking on the thick smell of death in the air.
You could see where he was leading you. Up ahead, you could make out the roof of the car you had arrived in. It was swarming with walkers.
Daryl cursed, sending another arrow into the nearest walker. “Car’s surrounded.”
You spun around, trying to desperately search for any high ground where you could wait them out. All you saw was walkers. All you saw was your fate being sealed with each passing second.
You were close to accepting your death when you remembered the keys pressing into your back pocket.
The group had endured so much. They all were survivors, you were a survivor, you weren’t going to allow this shitty day be your last one on earth.
You prayed to whatever higher power was listening that the batteries in the key fob hadn’t died. Scooping them out of your pocket, you pressed down. A car on the opposite side of the car park, where there were slightly less walkers, beeped.
Without a second thought you pulled Daryl with you again, driving your tire iron into the walkers who came a little too close. You were grateful when the car was within reaching distance, yanking open the driver’s door and throwing yourself into the seat, slamming the door sharply behind you. Hands started to palm the glass.
Daryl was breathing heavily next to you, looking at the walkers, then at you. “Now what?”
You sent a second prayer up above, sliding the keys into the ignition. A weak splutter of the engine answered. Adrenaline rushed through you, coursing through your veins as you hoped you weren’t about to make a mistake.
“Make sure you have your seat belt on.”
“Wha-” He couldn’t finish his sentence, robbed of his voice as you pushed the accelerator to the floor. The car shot forwards, tossing walkers around you to the side. You paid no mind to the thunk of bodies slamming into the roof and metal of the car, gunning the car forwards.
Seeing a gap, you engaged the handbrake, swinging the car to the side and sliding into the gap. You drove forwards, trying to see an exit in the sea of walkers, the scenery blurring around you.
“Can you see a way out?” You asked Daryl, spinning the car again in an attempt to dodge more walkers.
Daryl was gripping the door handle for dear life. He risked a look back to where you had come in, only managing a weak shake of the head. You muttered a few colourful words underneath your breath.
“Can you hold?” You sweetly asked Daryl, an idea forming in your mind.
“Hold what?”
You didn’t explain as you lowered the window next to you, unbuckled your seat belt and grabbed the tire iron. You pulled yourself to perch in the gap of the window. Daryl shouted your name in a panic, quickly sliding into the seat and taking control of the pedals. “The fuck are yer doing!”
“We need to get a clear view.” You pulled yourself further out of the window, grabbing onto the rails above the car. Squinting against the bright sun, you twisted around, eyes desperately searching for a way out.
“Look out!”
A walker was a hair breadth away from you. You drove the tire iron into it’s skull, it’s head snapping backwards. It crumpled to the ground in time for another one to take it’s place.
“Daryl!” He swerved the car out of the way. Your centre of gravity was thrown off. Your hands slipped from the rails. The world suddenly turned upside down. Blood rushed to your head. Your legs were clenched tightly inside the car window, the only thing keeping you attached to the car. “What the fuck!”
“This was yer piss poor idea,” Daryl berated. You were far too concerned with making sure you didn’t fall out of the car to snap at him for his tone.
“Just pull me up!” Your arms swung blindly above, trying desperately to grasp for the space near where you thought Daryl’s hands would be. His fingers connected with yours just as a walker began to reach for you, it’s rotting stench blocking your nose.
The world quickly righted itself as Daryl pulled you up so you were seated in the window again. Not wasting a second, you swung the tire iron at the walker. It’s blood sprayed onto your cheek.
“Please can ya come back in?”
Reluctantly, you gestured for Daryl to move out of the driver’s seat, shuffling back into position. The car juddered as you changed driver’s, purring brilliantly as you pressed the gas to the floor. You spun the car around again, one time, two times, then shot forwards, hitting as few walkers as you possibly could.
Seeing a small hill, a plan formulated in your mind. You didn’t give yourself chance to second guess yourself. Pressing down harder on the gas, you pushed the car towards it, the speed increasing with every second. Daryl was gripping his seat belt tightly, screaming your name at the top of his lungs in terror.
The car flew over the hill, cresting the gate surrounding the office and for a moment, you felt weightless. The feeling of flying was quickly dampened as you both jolted, slamming harshly into the ground. Smoke was curling out from under the hood and you’re fairly certain all of the tyres had flattened on impact. With a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw the walkers pawing at the fence.
You were alive.
A cheshire like grin spread across your face. Breathless, you exclaimed. “That was fun.”
Daryl turned a dark shade of green. It took him a minute to gather himself; he managed to utter one word. “How?”
Bordering chaotic joy, you laughed. “I used to go joy riding with my friends.”
“I’m drivin’ next time.” Daryl shakily spoke.
It would take a very long time for Daryl to get in a car with you behind the wheel again.
Home Sweet Home (The Walking Dead x FemTeen!Reader)
Your group is seeking shelter when you stumble upon your childhood home. Inspired by thisrequest.
When you stepped out into the street, you knew. The tarmac beneath your feet was blood splattered, walkers ambling around decayed beyond recognition. You didn’t need to see the facial features or hear the voices to identify the walkers surrounding around you. From their clothes alone you realised these were people you once classed as friends.
The walker with a broken ankle, dragging it behind them used to be Mary. The walker with the baseball shirt and the number 5 pasted on the back was Ronnie. The walker with half of it’s face ripped off caused you the greatest pain - that was your best friend, Bailey. From the shallowness of their skin and maggots writhing you guessed they passed a long time ago. There was a pang in your heart.
This was the street where you grew up.
Past the blood and viscera you could see the ghost of what this street used to be. The yard where Mary held her BBQ’s. The one window pane was a different colour from the rest as Ronnie shattered it hitting a baseball too hard. The back garden where you camped with Bailey, chatting about nothing at all until the sun rose and smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. If you closed your eyes you swore you could feel the hard seat of a bike beneath you, the hollering of your friends filling your ears until you went deaf.
“Y/N, look out!”
You rose out of your nostalgia to see a walker pounce towards you. Falling to the floor, you grunted, your back flaring in pain. You had no time to focus on the ache, hearing the distinct clatter of your knife falling outside your reach. Panicking, you grabbed the thinning hair of the walker and pulled it’s head backwards, putting as much space between you and it as possible.
Your breath caught in your throat. Even in a crowd of a million people you would be able to recognise that face. Despite the fact this walker had a cavity where an eye should have been, and skin so thin you could make out the colour of it’s skull, you saw a loving, smiling face grinning at you. That face was a mirror image of your own.
You fought past the growing film coating your eyes. Swallowing thickly, you tried your hardest to separate your memories and reality, feeling the rush of wind with each clamp of it’s jaws. Your grip on the walker weakened as the hair began to pull away from the scalp. Tendrils of hair floated to the floor as you desperately pushed your spare arm up, trembling muscles pushing the gnashing jaws away from your own.
A katana pierced the skull.
Blood splattered on your face. Her blood. All you could feel was the dead weight of her corpse pinning you to the floor. Your jaw was slack. The image of the sword entering her head played on repeat. You could feel the blood hitting your face again.
“Come on!” Michonne grabbed you, dragging you to your feet. You felt yourself snatch up the knife you dropped. You let Michonne pull you along, slashing any walkers - your friends - out of your path. You knew it would be a bad idea; you felt your attention keep getting drawn to the walker crumpled on the floor, the virus having moved her corpse now silenced.
The group moved further down the street, taking down the few walkers that wandered in front of them. You watched with an empty gaze as Daryl sent an arrow into Mary’s head, as Tyresse sent his hammer into Ronnie’s skull and as Rosita drove a knife into Bailey. One by one your ties to your old life fell to the ground, like a puppet with the strings cut. Each blow felt like a dagger being driven into your heart.
You pushed past your grief. You reminded yourself that they were dead long before you got here. No, it was a good thing you came here. They’d finally been put to rest, you tried to convince yourself and failed miserably. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to join the fray, shuffling besides Michonne with her hand still gripped tightly on your arm.
A low rumbling broke the serenity. The roaring of the engine grew louder with each passing second. All backs went straight. Your heart thrummed erratically in your chest. Walkers were predictable, people were not.
Rick was the first to move, running towards the nearest house and beckoning you all to follow. Your steps faltered as you saw which house Rick was shouldering his way into. Daryl was helping, the door not moving an inch.
Without thinking, you distanced yourself from the group, tightening the grip of the knife in your hand. You tried to convince yourself you’d use it if you had to; if you recognised the face, you weren’t sure you would have the strength to do it.
You rushed into the back garden, shoulders loosening when you saw the open window. They always had a habit of leaving the bottom window unlocked. You forced the window up, pulling yourself into the gap, ignoring your burning muscles and dragging yourself into the kitchen. You tumbled into the kitchen sink noisily.
For a second you froze, waiting to hear something. A beat passed. All you could hear was the steady thud of Rick and Daryl trying to break into the house.
You kept your eyes forward, trying to quieten the booming memories in your mind. The engine was growing louder.
You reached the front door. A bookshelf was blocking the entrance. Mustering all of your strength, you began to pull the shelves away from the door, grunting and muttering under your breath. Your muscles burned inch by inch, the furniture moved. Sweat built on your brow as your brain frantically ran with the scenarios where you just weren’t quick enough.
Another pound on the door. The door shook with the effort. With a final grunt you pulled the bookcase away, watching Rick all but fall through the entrance. The group all filtered in behind him, slamming the door shut with a final thud just as you heard the engine roar down the road.
Rick looked at you, slightly out of breath. You half expected him to berate you, brows rising as you saw him smile at you. “How do you always manage to save our asses?”
You shrugged nonchalantly, giving him a weak smile in return.
Abraham slapped you on the back. “Great job Y/N, I was starting to think I should have worn my brown pants.”
Rosita hit Abraham with the back of her hand, shaking her head at him in amusement. He just shrugged, a brilliant grin on his face. “We hunkering down here for the night?”
Your heart sank. You’d rather have faced the strangers in the car than spend a night reminded of everything you had lost.
“Might as well, let’s split off, make sure this place is safe, grab anything that looks useful and meet in the kitchen.”
“Roger, roger.” Daryl agreed, acting as a catalyst for everyone else to follow suit.
Everyone was paired up, searching the rooms in the house for anything useful. You were left standing in the entryway alone. It wasn’t anything personal. You were quiet and reserved, and people respected that. They would have your back in a fight but you certainly wouldn’t be the first person someone approached for a conversation, unless they wanted it to last all of five seconds. At this time you were grateful for the solitude.
You squeezed your eyes shut, scrunching your hands in fists. You had survived so much, you could survive one night in your childhood home. Still, you felt your life play before your eyes as you saw yourself running into your mother’s arms after a long day of work, her spinning you around. You walked through the memory, moving towards the stairs. An onslaught of the past rushed towards you. Dancing down the stairs, only to break your toe on the banister. Your parents holding your hand while the doctors examined your injury.
It’s like you were being drawn to her room. You had no care for ensuring the house was safe - this would always be your safe place - you only needed to reach where your heart desired. Gently, you nudged the door open, breathing a sigh of relief when you noticed no one was in there. The curtains were closed shut, only streams of dimming light brightening the space.
You didn’t need light to go where you were going. You found yourself standing outside the wardrobe. Hands shaking, you opened the door.
Her clothes.
A cautious hand reached out. Her favourite sweater. You slowly lifted the soft material to your cheek, freezing in place. Tears streamed down your face. The times she comforted you by wiping your tears away with this very sweater. You tried to muffle your sobs as you tried to re-enact the memory, gently sweeping the material under your flowing eyes. A shuddering breath ripped out of you. A tsunami was brewing.
She did it better.
You didn’t hear the door squeak open. Your shoulders shook with the weight of your grief. You resisted the urge to look out of the window and find her corpse amidst the street.
“Y/N?” A comforting hand fell on your shoulder. Immediately, your body stiffened. You shrugged their hand away. “Are you okay?”
“Fine, Glenn.” You shortly responded, praying that the dark of the room hid the glistening of your eyes. “I was just checking if there were any clean clothes for us.”
“Good idea.” You knew he didn’t believe a word you were saying. As if to prove a point, you ripped the clothes from the hangers, uncaring about the loud clatter of the hangers tumbling to the floor. You shoved them towards him.
“See if Maggie wants any.”
“Y/N… You can talk to us, you know that right?”
You couldn’t even muster a weak smile. He wouldn’t believe it anyway. “I know Glenn. Thank you.”
“We worry about you.” Glenn sighed. He looked as if he was going to reach out towards you again, before thinking better of it. “Just, please, talk to us every now and then, yeah?”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing now?”
“You know what I mean.” He sighed, holding the clothes to his chest. “Guess I’ll take these to the kitchen then.”
When he disappeared, a well of emotion tumbled out of you. You turned back to the closet, determined to find the sweater. All the clothes were now in a bundle on the floor. Desperately you rifled through them, the panic growing steadily with each passing second.
It wasn’t there.
Jumping to your feet, you threw the door open, running down the stairs. You forced yourself past Rick and Carl, nearly falling down the stairs in the process. You found Glenn in the kitchen, the bundle of clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor. The panic subsided; only slightly.
As casually as you could, you moved towards the clothes pile, going through the contents. Panic began to bubble in your chest as you couldn’t find it again. It felt like you were going through the five stages of grief.
“Hey Glenn, doesn’t this kinda look like -” Maggie walked into the room, a photo cusped in her hand. Your heart fell out of your chest as you saw her wearing the sweater. You tried to play off the rising panic but to no avail. The room felt like it was closing in and all of the memories were threatening to suffocate you. “Oh hey, Y/N, you okay?”
You couldn’t remember nodding. You must be an impeccable actor as she smiled, gesturing the picture to you. “I was just about to show Glenn this. I swear, she could be your twin.”
You took the picture from her hands. You had every intention of playing it off as a crazy coincidence - all of those thoughts flew out of the window as you looked down at the photo. It was from when you and your parents had gone to the beach. Your parents were gazing at each other lovingly while you stood between them, grinning madly. There was a crumbling sandcastle in front of you that you presented with pride.
You were so happy.
Water dripped onto the picture. It marred your smile. Frantically you wiped at the tears, only for more to take their place. Your shoulders shook with the effort of keeping the storm at bay.
“Place’s clear. There was only a walker in the basement but we dealt with it.”
The tears only flew faster.
“The hell’s wrong with her?”
Maggie spoke so softly you couldn’t hear her over your crying. “This is her home.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. You stood in the middle of the room, alone, trying to fight the overwhelming emotions possessing your body.
Maggie took a tentative step closer. You didn’t protest as she pulled you into her arms. You grasped at her, clinging to her like a newborn. You breathed in deeply, hoping for a hint of her scent on the sweater that remained.
There was nothing.
Michonne broke the silence. “Did you recognise anyone outside?”
Wordlessly, you nodded your head.
Rick sighed. “It’ll be dark soon. We’ll bury the dead at first light.”
“Are you sure that’s the most logical thing? With the high volume of walkers and our current exhaustion I don’t think we should be expending energy unnecessarily.”
“Shut the fuck up Eugene, she’s a kid.” Daryl smacked Eugene upside the head, sending him a venomous glare. Eugene shrunk under his gaze, opening his mouth to defend himself when you interrupted him.
“Eugene’s right.” You sniffled, pulling yourself away from Maggie. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. He’s just being a prick.”
“Like always.” You heard Carl mutter under his breath. A huff of a laugh slipped past your lips through the tears. Carl looked up at you, almost embarrassed you heard him. That embarrassment faded when he saw the slight curve of your mouth.
“Uh,” you cleared your threat in an attempt to stop it cracking constantly. “The walker in the basement, did it have this watch on?” You passed the picture to Daryl. He looked at it, then passed it back. He was silent for a minute.
“’M sorry.”
Another silence passed through the group. You felt like you were in the eye of the storm, being battered with debris, body aching and slowly giving up. All eyes were on you as you kept your gaze fixated to the floor, determined for them to not see you break down more than you already had. You knew you were kidding them all - they could see the tears dripping onto the floor.
In a voice so small it was almost illegible, you muttered. “Can we bury them together?”
That night you had a restless sleep. Childhood memories were incepted with demons and walkers clawing at happiness.
By late afternoon, you were standing in the backyard of your childhood home, looking emptily down at the two mounds of fresh dirt.
Hope was the deadliest weapon. For years, ever since you realised you would never return to this street the way you knew it, you hoped that they would be okay. That those you held near and dear to you were somewhere surviving, looking up at the same night sky as you were. It was what fuelled you to take that extra step when your feet were throbbing, what pushed you forwards when your stomach was riddled with a gnawing hunger, and what kept you living. Now that you knew the truth… You wondered how you could move forwards when you were constantly looking back, looking back at her corpse that signified the death of your naivety.
You weren’t sure about what the future would hold, or if you would ever recover from the loss of your family. The fate of the group was unknown but that didn’t cause you any anxiety anymore, for the worst thing that could have happened, had already happened to you. You didn’t know if you would survive long enough to see the hairs on your head turn grey. There was one thing you knew for certain.
Your childhood home was now a graveyard.
No Lone Wolves Here (Daryl Dixon x Platonic!Reader)
An Alexandrian party is too much for you after your time surviving. Thankfully, your friend Daryl understands exactly how you’re feeling.
The party was bustling with life. It felt odd, to be surrounded by so many people in such small quarters, actual clean clothes adorned on your body and the heavy sound of chatter attacking your senses. After surviving with the dead for so long, it was strange to be living with the living. That’s why you separated yourself, clinging to the quietest corner of the room. You merely watched all these people interact with one thought in your mind - how can they act so normal?
Your every instinct was telling you to run, to find a quiet place to spend the rest of your night. You wanted to ditch the bottle of beer that was cradled in your hand, the liquid still brimming the top. You couldn’t drink. No, you had to stay focused.
“Hey, Y/N.” Rick sidled up beside you, eyes raking your tense stance. It didn’t take a body language expert to sense that you were on edge. “Enjoying the party?”
“Depends on your definition of ‘enjoyment’.”
“C'mon, try to loosen up a bit.” Rick sighed, rubbing his beard. He placed a friendly hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “I know it’s hard, but can you at least try? These people welcomed us into their home.”
Rick’s begging eyes broke your resolve. As much as you loved your corner of solitude, there was only so long that you could put off interacting with other people. Nodding your head, a bright smile lit up his face. The action nearly knocked you off your feet. It had been so long since you had seen him smile.
You had to do this, for your friends, your family.
“You got this.” Rick gave your shoulder a final squeeze, before disappearing back into the crowd. You wished he stayed by your side and helped you navigate the treacherous waters of normal conversation. God, you couldn’t remember the last time you made small talk.
Fighting your trembling hands and racing heart, you threw yourself into the fray. You felt eyes draw towards you as you suddenly realised you could not remember how the hell to approach a stranger for a conversation. Don’t even get you started on small talk.
Nervously, you sipped your drink. The foul tasting liquid did nothing to soothe your nerves. Maybe it would be better if you got another drink.
Weaving through the people, you managed to find the kitchen. You released a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding at the sight of the empty room. You were becoming aware that your palms were sweaty.
Drink cradled to your chest, you searched the table for anything other than beer. After a few minutes you came up short, disappointment shooting through you like a bullet.
“Looking for a drink?” A voice behind you questioned.
Your heart jumped out of your chest as you spun around, already thinking ten steps ahead as to how you could incapacitate the threat. You froze when you saw a man standing there, no older than early twenties, looking at you with a raised brow.
“Someone’s jumpy.” His remark dug under your skin. He had no idea what you had been through to get to this paradise. Ignorant prick. Still, you promised Rick you would try to be friendly. You huffed a laugh, hoping it would hide your annoyance.
“You’re with the new group, right?” You nodded your head, really wishing he would stop looking at you. There was nothing sinister in his gaze, just a glint of curiosity that you weren’t sure how to respond to. “I’m Jake, nice to meet you.”
His open hand hung between the two of you. You stared at it, not entirely sure what to do. If you shook his hand, that would give him the advantage to exploit your weaknesses. You settled for nodding at him, forcing a small quirk to your lips. “I’m Y/N.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
Suddenly you didn’t get a good vibe. You wanted to tell this man to mind his own business but all you could think of was how brightly Rick smiled. He wanted to make this place a home; you had to try to make this work. Reluctantly, you shook your head up and down.
Jake moved closer, skirting around you to grab another drink. He took the lid off with the edge of the table, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “It’s so boring here. It’s wild to think the world is… gone when everything here is so normal. I bet you have some stories.”
Your mouth ran off without consulting your brain. “None of which I’m sharing with you.”
Jake immediately backed away, raising his hands in surrender. You wanted to do nothing more than yank the drink from his hand and smash it over his head. He was still smiling. “I wasn’t trying to pry, just making friendly conversation.”
“Feels more like an interrogation to me.”
“Is it? Because to me it seems like you have a difficulty opening up.”
“To me it sounds like you’ve never heard that curiosity kills the cat.”
He smiled playfully. “But satisfaction brought it back.”
“Not to be rude, but I’m not going to tell someone I’ve just met my life story.” All thoughts of grabbing another drink forgotten, you moved past him to leave the kitchen. His hand shot out and grabbed your arm. Before you could process what was happening, you had his arm pinned to his back, him whimpering.
“Don’t touch me.” You warned, releasing his arm and leaving the kitchen. Rick’s wish be damned, you tried, maybe you could try another day. All you knew was this house was suffocating and it felt as if your lungs were going to explode.
You saw glimpses of your group as you tried to find a way out. They were laughing, smiling, drinking, and acting like the perfect citizens. The thought of doing the same made you feel sick. At this point you had evolved into a survivor and the white picket fence lifestyle didn’t suit you.
Aaron appeared in your vision, stepping out in front of you. You stopped in your tracks, legs itching to start moving again. “Y/N? Are you okay?”
The concern in his eyes made you want to run further. Desperately, you managed to squeak out a request. “Can I leave?”
“Sure, sure.” Aaron smiled at you sympathetically. “I’ll show you the way.”
With Aaron as your guide you escape your prison, breathing in a large lungful of clean air. As soon as you stepped outside you felt your shoulders loosen and your heart calm.
Aaron closed the door behind you. “Want me to walk you home?”
Home? Did you really have a home here? You declined his offer, shoving the bottle of beer towards Aaron and practically running down the stairs and out into the street. The steady rhythm of your feet hitting the ground brought a strange sense of calm over yourself, until finally you could rid yourself of the anxieties the Alexandrian welcome party had brought you. Jogging to a stop outside the group’s shared house, you weren’t all that surprised to see Daryl sat on the steps, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.
Slightly out of breath, you nodded to the seat next to him. Daryl shuffled over wordlessly, and with a deep sigh you sagged into the space. The acidic stench of smoke hit your nostrils.
“Thought ya were at the party.” Daryl puffed out a plume of smoke. You watched it curl into the air and fade away.
“I’m not really the party type.”
“Me neither.”
“Now that does surprise me.” Daryl eyed you up from the corner of his eye. You smirked, knocking your shoulder against his. “Look at us, a pair of socialites.”
Daryl chuckled. “I’d rather not play pretend when I know the shit that’s goin’ on out there.”
You looked at the walls, at what they were keeping out, but what they were also keeping in. “These people know nothing of suffering.”
“You were like tha’ once.” Daryl stubbed his cigarette on the floor, grinding the ashes into the wood, leaving a burn mark.
“Yeah but I wasn’t a blind idiot.”
“Yeah, 'cause you still are.”
You mocked a gasp, pushing him playfully with your hand. “Remind me why we’re friends.”
“Bold of ya to assume we’re friends.”
“Right, because we’re family.”
“Damn straight.” Daryl leaned backwards, his hands supporting him. “Why’d ya leave?”
You sighed, looking down at your hands. When you lived outside the walls they were always caked in some kind of dirt or blood. Now they were so clean you could make out the creases in your skin. “They wanted entertainment and I ain’t no performing monkey.”
“Amen.” He shuffled across, so the space between you was smaller. His body heat warmed your chilled bones.
Minutes of comfortable silence passed between the two of you. It had always been this way, you could happily chat for hours or say nothing at all. It was the company that mattered. Having once been renowned for being a lone wolf, Daryl had broken free from his shell and embraced the relationships he formed with others. It was hard to believe that when you first met him, he was the loner everyone was intimidated by.
“This place feels like a fairytale.” Daryl mused, looking out at the picture perfect scene. Even the moan of walkers could barely be heard.
“All stories end.”
Daryl grunted in agreement. “I just hope it’s a long fucking story.”
“Are we normal, Daryl? For not fitting in here?”
“Were we ever normal?”
You hummed.
“I don’t think bein’ different is a bad thing.”
“No, I guess you’re right.”
Daryl smiled at you cheekily. “Aren’t I always?”
You laughed, grateful that while everything else was changing, you would still have your friend by your side.
kidnapper: we have your daughter
negan: no, i don’t even have a daughter
kidnapper: what? but it says ‘daddy’ here under your name-
negan:
negan: YOU KIDNAPPED MY GIRLFRIEND, YOU BASTARD
negan: WELCOME TO YOUR FUCKING FUNERAL
daryl: i’m back
daryl: remember that guy who catcalled you on the way to the armory? i burned his house down
y/n: okay. did you get the guns we need for the run?
daryl:
daryl: i’ll be right back
