the walking dead valentines

All of You – Part 4 (I Love Her, Rick) – Happy Valentine’s Day!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Daryl x Reader Smut Warning! 18+ Only! NSFW

Summary: Y/N convinces Daryl to let her come to Alexandria with him, after fighting with him. Makeup Smut ensues as she convinces him to take her along. They drive to Alexandria and meet Rosita and Rick, Rosita is pissed at Daryl, and Rick contemplates how to deal with the new situation. Daryl takes Y/N home. Smut AF. Post-Negan AU.


Originally posted by sail-not-drift

“But, I don’t understand! Why do you have to go?!” You shout to Daryl as he shoves a few shirts into a bag and searches his eyes around the room, zipping up the bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

He locked eyes with yours and his eyes dropped in sadness a moment before facing you again.

“I have to go, Y/N. They’re my friends… The only thing left I got in this world, besides you.” He gestured to you, his breath heavy as his heart pounded with nervous energy. He didn’t want to go, he wanted like hell to stay with you and spend his life wrapped in your kisses, but he owed Rick and everyone else so much more than that.

“I’ll come with you!” You say quickly as your stomach did flips at the thought of Daryl leaving you.

Daryl smiled softly at you at the thought, quickly shaking his head and his eyes turning sad again.

“Nah. I don’t want you out there.” He nodded outside the window, toward freedom.

You grit your teeth and glare at him, as he pulls a Negan and presupposes you can’t do whatever the fuck you want. You fold your arms and stare at him defiantly.

“Besides, I don’t know how Rick and everyone is gonna take you…” He says, staring at you biting his lip, hating having this conversation.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You snap angrily, shaking your body sassily about, with your arms still folding tightly around you.

Daryl’s eyes fall to the floor, staring harshly at it, “ You know, Y/N…” He says softly, not wanting to look you in the eye.

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Aphrodisiac - (Negan x Female)

@This is the first fic I have ever written.Feedback is SUPER welcome. If people enjoy this, I’ll write a part 2. 

I chose the Valentine’s Day prompt from flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash’s 2k Writing Challenge. I did pick the prompt as @asshatry but I’m posting it here on my new side blog. 

I want to give a BIG THANK YOU to @my-achilles–heel for not only editing this, but for making me feel so welcome in the thirst squad. <3 You’re the best.

Warnings: Fluff and a little bit NSFW 

Synopsis: Negan wants to make her his next wife. She’s always turned him down, but now it’s Valentine’s Day and that man can be persistent…. 

I woke up that morning already in a bad mood. Maybe I had slept funny or was tossing and turning again. I wasn’t really sure. I kicked my legs over the edge of the bed and stretched, hoping the movement of my muscles would cause an overall feeling of relaxation. It did, but the feeling subsided way too quickly and I cursed softly under my breath. It was going to be a long day.

Then I remembered what day it was.

Valentine’s Day.

The dreaded, lovey-dovey holiday for all the romantic couples looking to rub it in everyone’s faces that their love is pure and strong. Bleh.

Somehow there was a silver lining to the dead coming back to life because the heart shaped candies and roses were a thing of the past. Now, holidays were a little more toned down, and I kind of preferred that.

I had been living at The Sanctuary for only a few weeks and before that, I hadn’t even known what day it was. Little things like that didn’t matter when it came to survival. But here, in this world…in his world, I could embrace those little things again. The date. The time. Being safe was a luxury that allowed attention to detail.

But there was a reason I was dreading today, and his name was Negan.

Originally posted by rikkisixx

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The Drama Squad: TV Night

After the SQUIP incident the group just stuck together and started hanging out. One of the group’s favorite activities is watching The Walking Dead together Sunday night. Jeremy and Michael had already read the comics, Rich and Jake like the blood and gore, Christine appreciates the acting while Jenna blogs her reactions. Chloe does not care for the show but she likes it when Brooke holds her during the scary parts. This night also consists of a lot of junk food, with everyone bringing the worst possible food. The champion currently being Rich’s Chocolate Unicorn Pizza, the only known ingredients being chocolate and rainbow sprinkles. No one besides Rich himself and Michael are willing to eat it. As of the latest seasonal hiatus the group has started watching Stranger Things and are anticipating season two’s release.

Negan attempting to write a Valentine's poem for Rick...
  • <p> <b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b>*Writing*:</b> Roses are red,<p/><b></b> Your eyes are blue,<p/><b></b> Be my new bat?<p/><b></b> Because I wanna go swinging with you-<p/><b>Negan:</b> - Wait, I don't wanna share him!<p/><b>*Scribbles, writes*:</b> I wanna go fourth base with you-<p/><b>Negan:</b> - What am I, fuckin' 12?!<p/><b>* Scribbles, writes*:</b> I wanna hit you like a home ru-<p/><b>Negan:</b> - I can't do this rhyming shit! RICK?! JUST COME HERE AND GET ON THE FUCKIN' BED!<p/></p><p/></p><p/></p>

smefd  asked:

I'm a big fan of The Walking Dead. So if a Negan like character was introduced, which companion would he pick to kill as an example. Probably excluding Strong from the lineup because there is no way he would kneel to a human. I know this is kind of dark, eh whatever.

Trigger Warning: Violence, gore, and disturbing dialogue.

Strong’s head skipped across the concrete like a stone over water, then skidding to a stop and rolling so his yellow eyes pointed back towards the group. A trail of blood followed his head, a crimson line along the black concrete between his torso and his decapitated skull.

Pickman sighed, dropping his baseball bat to the road with a thunk and leaning against it, looking almost comical, like a Pre-War silent movie star posing with his cane. But instead of a cane, it was a gory, smooth mahogany thing, darker where the mutant’s blood stained it. “You know, I really didn’t want to have to do that,” he sighed. 

He turned back to them, swinging on his heel in one smooth motion and raising his free hand. “I didn’t! A domesticated mutant’s worth an awful lot to the right people. Besides the fact that mutants produce a great deal of blood when drained.” He paused, then raised his eyebrows in admittance. “Then again, mutant blood clots too fast to paint with. It’s too thick and unwieldy. Doesn’t make the right kind of art.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” Cait spat, blood and spittle striking the pavement. She tried to pop her jaw, felt it ache where his men had knocked the tooth out.

“Am I?” Pickman walked closer. Didn’t swagger, didn’t pretend. He knew how much power he wielded. He needed no posturing to cast fear into anyone’s heart. Blinking innocently, he leaned down, looking into the girl’s bruised face. He delicately tucked a loose strand from his ponytail behind one ear. “No, my dear. Sick implies that there is something wrong with me. That I interpret the world incorrectly. No, I understand exactly what I am doing, and why I do it. I am not sick. I am conscious. More so than all of you.”

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