Negan Smith X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Save Me, Save You Series Masterlist

Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV)

Pairing: Savior!Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Era: Saviors War (S7/8)

Series Warnings: canon-typical violence, character deaths (canon), guns, blood/injuries, explicit language, sexual content. (Individual chapters will have warnings as well)

Summary: When a dangerous new community attacks, life in Alexandria gets turned upside down. In an attempt to protect your people, you volunteer to meet the bizarre demands of the new community's eccentric leader, including becoming his wife. But along the way, you meet an old community legend, who has fallen down a dark path. Will you be able to save him, your people, and yourself, or will you be lost in the struggle?

A/N: This series follows the events of Seasons 7 and 8, but there are some adjustments in the timing of events for pacing purposes.

The Sacrifice

The Sanctuary

The Engagement Party

The Interrogation

The Promise

The Wedding

The Honeymoon

The Attack

The Graves

The Punishment

The Rescue (coming soon!)

Chapter 16 - The Babysitter (Save Me, Save You)

Summary - With the wives officially on lockdown, everyone tries to get by the best that they can. Some better than others, of course.

Chapter warnings - stitches, threats of violence, explicit language, alcohol use, guns.

A/N - this unexpectedly became one of my favorite chapters to write. A couple sweet little moments before shit really hits the fan ❤️

Series Masterlist

Tag list - @celtic-crossbow @rosegoldrosieee @heidiland05 @princesssparkle2024 @spectacular-skywalker @itwasntaphasema @duckybird101 @skulliecadaver-blog

At the sound of your name, you startle awake. Your eyes immediately look to the stack of books on your nightstand, and spot Wild Pursuits: A Comprehensive Exploration of the Arts and Ethics of Hunting safely still on the bottom of the pile. You exhale a breath of relief, before turning to whomever rudely interrupted your sleep. It’s Tanya and Frankie, of course.

“What?” you ask, not very kindly. You had stayed up late last night, trying to scrub the feeling of Negan’s hands off of your skin unsuccessfully before tossing and turning for hours, only falling into a restless sleep when the sun was already creeping up. 

Tanya shushes you while climbing onto your bed. Frankie is behind her, peeking out the bedroom door.

“You’ll never guess who’s on babysitting duty today,” Tanya whispers conspiratorially.

“Who?” you ask, sitting up.

“Come look for yourself,” Frankie shoots from the door. 

Throwing your covers into a giggling Tanya’s face, you quietly pad over to the door, crouching below Frankie to sneak a look into the living room. Through the small crack, you immediately spot him: in the same chair as last time sits Daryl, one arm resting along the top of the chair and the hand of the other cupping his chin, watching. As if sensing you, his eyes flick towards the door, and you quickly fall away, out of his sight.

“Right?!” Tanya chirps, taking your place at the doorway, peering out.

“I wonder what he did to get stuck with us,” Frankie muses. “Doesn’t he have more important things to be doing?”

“It’s probably because of his injury,” you respond, thoughtfully. Both of the women’s heads snap towards you.

“So that’s who you were late-night doctoring!” Tanya nearly squeals. You try to whack her with the back of your hand but she rolls out of your reach. She stands up and grabs Frankie’s arm. “We’re going out there,” she says to you. “Hurry up and get dressed before we take him from you.” Then she pushes Frankie out the door, while you sit there, rolling your eyes at them.

By the time you walk out into the living room - wearing a simple black tee-shirt dress, hair loose and flowing over your shoulders - breakfast had arrived. Apparently Negan didn’t trust the wives to get themselves food anymore, so a platter of eggs, toast, ham, and fruit sat on the bar, accompanied by multiple cups of coffee. Tucking your random book you grabbed from your pile under your arm, you take one of the coffees and shove a piece of toast in your mouth before moving to one of the couches. You curl into one of the corners, conveniently right across from where Daryl was sitting. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you. Instead, you open your book and settle in, only half paying attention to the scene around you.

The rest of the wives are helping themselves to the breakfast spread. Frankie and Tanya make their plates and move to sit on either side of Daryl, who accepts their presence with mild disinterest. 

Not to be discouraged, Tanya leans in towards him and asks, “Can I make you a plate, Dixon? There’s more than enough for all of us.”

“No thanks,” Daryl responds politely.

This is how most of the day goes by.

“Dixon, we heard you got hurt. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“‘m alright.”

“Want me to rub your shoulders? I used to be a massage therapist, ya know.”

“No thanks.”

“Hey Dixon, I’m gonna grab a drink, want anything?”

“Nah, ‘m good.” 

You can almost feel Daryl’s discomfort as your sister-wives - the voice inside your head makes a gross barfing sound - throw themselves at him.  You try to hide your smirks behind your paperback, but the low, scoffing sound from across the room tells you that he sees them anyway. 

Probably in an attempt to discourage them, Daryl takes to sharpening one of his hunting knives. He frowns, however, when this only interests them more.

“You must be so good with those, since you take such good care of them.”

“‘m fine, I guess.”

“Can you show me how to do that?”

“Nah.”

“Come ooooon.”

“Don’t think your husband would be happy ‘bout that,”  Daryl says, scowling at them.

When Tanya lets out a loud “hmph!” you can’t hold in your laugh. This draws all three sets of eyes to you, where you sit attempting to read, one hand fiddling with the stitches on your forehead.

“Quit picking at those,” Daryl snaps.

You immediately drop your hand. “Sorry,” you mutter. Frankie and Tanya stare at you, mouths agape. Cheeks burning, you busy yourself in your book again, and they eventually lose interest in you and go back to pestering Daryl. 

By midafternoon, after lunch and several more attempts from Frankie and Tanya to engage him in conversation, another Savior enters the living room, relieving Daryl of babysitting duty. He gives each of you a quick nod before leaving the room. The new Savior - the young kid, Alden - takes up his seat by the door, apparently boring the two wives sitting nearby because they grab their things and move to sit by you instead.

“He’s a tough nut to crack,” Frankie murmurs under her breath, stealing a glance at Alden to make sure he didn’t overhear.

“How did you do it?” Tanya asks breathlessly.

You just shrug. “I didn’t do anything.” This earns you a glare from the two women.

Before they can press you further, Arat appears in the doorway, calling your name.

“Let’s go,” she orders.

“Where are we going?” you ask, rising from your spot on the couch. You can feel Frankie and Tanya exchange a glance around you.

Arat smiles a nasty smile. “Doctor’s appointment,” she says, sneering as you approach her.

“What-“ you start to ask but you don’t get to finish as she grabs your arm and pushes you out the door.

Stumbling once but regaining your footing, you start making your way to Dr. Carson’s old office, trying not to give your escort a reason to shove the barrel of her gun into your back. Along the way, you have to press yourself into the wall to make room for a handful of Saviors carrying crates through the hallway. You try to crane your neck to see what they have, earning you another push from Arat. Glaring, you continue walking towards the doctor’s office, not sure what you were going to find there.

To your utmost surprise, when you reach it, you are met by Dr. Carson. But not the one that you are used to seeing here: inside the small office, unpacking a box of supplies, is Hilltop’s Dr. Carson. A gasp escapes your lips before you can catch it.

At the sound he turns around. “Ah,” he says, putting down the box of bandages in his hand. “My very first patient here.” He leans over, looking past you to Arat. “Thank you, you can leave us.”

“Not a chance,” she spits. “Wives are under watch, Negan’s orders.”

“Not in here, they’re not,” the new Dr. Carson says casually. “Doctor-patient confidentiality, ya know.” When Arat doesn’t move, he continues, “You can wait outside if you must.”

Scoffing, Arat glares at both you and the doctor before stepping out the door and slamming it closed. 

Still bewildered, you just stare at the doctor.

“I know,” he says. “I didn’t expect to see me here either.” He sighs, looking down. “I just found out about my brother today.” 

Realization hits you like a ton of bricks. “I’m so sorry,” you say softly.

But he just waves you off. “It was a matter of time,” he says sadly. “Especially with these people.” An awkward silence falls between the two of you. Breaking it, he claps his hands, declaring, “I hear you have stitches that need removing.”

“How-“ you start to ask but stop yourself. Daryl, you think, smiling. Typical. He must’ve run into the doctor after leaving your room. You nod to Dr. Carson, who motions to the patient table.

You sit on it, and watch as he prepares to take out your stitches, a million questions running through your head. How did you end up here? Is everyone okay? What about Maggie and the baby?

But it turns out that you don’t have to ask any of them. Gloves on, he moves in close, inspecting his brother’s work. When he begins to snip at the stitches, he answers your unspoken questions.

“She’s okay,” he whispers, barely audible. “So is the baby.” He turns, placing the discarded stitch on the tray he had pulled over. “Rick and a few others have visited the Hilltop.” Your eyes widen as he drops another stitch onto the tray. “They’re planning to fight.” 

Relief overwhelms you. Tears prick your eyes, but not wanting to disturb the doctor's work, you let them pour down your cheeks. They’re coming for me, you think to yourself. I’m going to be saved.

‘But what about Daryl?’ the small, forever pestering voice in the back of your mind asks. ‘Will they save him too?’

Yes, you tell the voice. They have to - they know him, they’ll save him from Negan’s grasp too.

‘Will they?’ the voice presses, doubtful.

They will, you continue. If they won’t, then I’ll make them. 

While you were arguing with yourself, Dr. Carson finishes removing your stitches. “All done,” he announces, sitting back to remove his gloves. “You’ll have a little scar, but nothing too bad.” He holds up the small mirror so you can see. Pushing your hair out of the way, you see the cut, now closed up and healing, and it makes you think of the scar Daryl has in his hairline as well. Matching again, you think, smirking.

Looking away from the mirror, you whisper, “Thank you.” Meeting his gaze, you try to show him that you are grateful for more than just the stitches.

“Thank me when we’re out of here,” he replies understandingly, patting your hands before standing up to open the door. Arat leans against the opposite wall, scowling. “She’s all yours,” he tells her. 

Without a word, she nods at you, and you follow her back to your rooms, mind reeling at the thought of your impending rescue. What is the plan? If anything is true about your people’s plans, they always started one way, then shit hits the fan, and then you have to improvise. What can I do to help from the inside? You already know Eugene was not sent here to deliver you a message, asshole that he is. Was someone else going to find their way into the Sanctuary? 

The next few days carry on with little excitement. Daryl’s been assigned to babysitting duty again each day, and Frankie and Tanya continue their quest to gain his favor to no avail. Meals continue to be delivered to the wives quarters, so you all have been confined to your living room or bedroom the whole time. The only exception to this was when Negan would send for one of you each night. You are grateful that he hasn’t called for you since the day he took you outside and then fucked you in the war room.

Daryl was still refusing to let anyone touch him or his wound but you, so you had to check his stitches and change his bandage in the small bathroom just off of your bedroom. You managed to sneak a few kisses but little else, with Frankie and Tanya talking loudly right outside the door, much to your chagrin. 

“They don’t quit, so they?” Daryl had asked while he held you, snuggled into his chest.

“No they don’t,” you answered him, eyes squeezed shut. “You’re like a shiny new toy to them, ever since you took me as your ‘reward.’ They’re hoping you’ll take one of them next.”

“Oh really?” he replied, chuckling. “Should I?”

You had pulled away, glared at him and said “I’ll kill you AND them,” which only made him laugh more. “I’m armed now, remember?”

“Yeah yeah,” he said, smirking, before pulling you back in for another kiss.

Were you being smart, carrying on like this with those two nosey women right outside the door? Not at all. But you craved Daryl like he was the air your lungs needed, and you couldn’t give up the opportunity to be with him, no matter how short or risky it was. 

Daryl wasn’t the best at expressing himself with words, but he had his ways of showing you how much he needed you too. His gaze frequently fell upon you, eyes flickering to wherever you stood over the shoulders of whomever was speaking to him. His hands found you, trailing up your side whenever you passed and taking up residence on your waist when he stood beside you at the makeshift bar. In your small moments of solitude, he held his forehead to yours, as if trying to press all of his unspoken words and feelings into your mind. You quickly learned the language of his eyes and his varying grunts. The stoic man was surprisingly easy to read, if one simply paid attention. And the more you did, the more of him you needed.

By the third evening of lockdown, everyone in the wives’ quarters was growing restless, even the Saviors stuck babysitting. Gary, the hotheaded, trigger happy one, was so pissed about being stuck in there that he got shitfaced at the bar, eventually falling off of his barstool. Negan was furious, and had him dragged out by his feet, and poor Alden had to take over for him again. Alden was young and a little naive, and the other wives quickly took advantage of that fact.

“Where are you going?” he asks Frankie and Tanya, who are making a beeline for the door.

“To Eugene’s room,” Tanya replies, unconcerned.

“But you are all supposed to be under supervision,” Alden tries to argue back in a small voice. The exchange has captured the attention of all in the room. You watch from your spot at the bar, as Lauren and Dawn peer over their magazines at the young Savior.

“That’s what Eugene is for,” Frankie shoots back, rolling her eyes.

“But Negan-” he starts but she doesn’t let him finish.

“Who do you think ordered us to go?”

“I- uh.”

“You wanna ask him yourself?” Frankie challenges him, staring him down. 

Alden flinches under her cool gaze. 

Smirking, Frankie takes Tanya’s arm and they leave the room.

You watch Alden slump back into his seat, appearing crestfallen. You quickly find the least repulsive whiskey behind the bar, pour a generous amount into a glass and bring it over to the kid. You hold it out to him, and he looks up at you with wide eyes before taking it.

“Don’t take any of that personally,” you tell him. “They’re like that to everyone.”

“Thanks,” Alden replies gloomily. He takes a sip of the drink, grimacing. You look at him apologetically before returning to the bar. Atop it sat a glass of wine for yourself and your journal, which you regrettably have not spent much time writing in since your arrival here at the Sanctuary. You were working on a detailed account of your time here and everything that you’ve learned about Negan and the Saviors, in case it came in handy later on. You did, however, leave out the specifics of your relationship with Daryl, lest it fell into the wrong hands.

Sitting at your seat, scribbling away, you don’t notice the door to the living room open again until you hear voices and your name in that oh-so-familiar Southern drawl. Closing your journal, you turn to find Daryl talking to Alden near the entrance to the room. Your heart skips in your chest, but quickly falls when you hear their exchange.

“Negan wants ‘er,” Daryl is explaining to the younger Savior, who can barely meet his eye. He just nods.

Daryl looks over to you, where you stand clutching the bar with white knuckles. He nods, indicating for you to follow, and you have to use your other hand to pry your fingers off of the cracked wooden surface. 

Chest tightening, you follow him out into the hallway. You stay a few paces behind him, trying to calm the terror burning in your lungs, making it difficult to breathe. A wheeze squeezes out of you, drawing Daryl’s attention and he’s on you, hands gripping each of your upper arms, cerulean blue eyes boring into your own wide ones.

“Breathe, princess,” he murmurs softly. He helps you to take a few strangled breaths, eyes never leaving your own. 

“What does he want with me?” you manage to choke out, swallowing your panic the best you can.

To your surprise, Daryl smirks. “Nothing,” he replies. Then he breaks into a very big, very rare smile. “I lied.”

You open your mouth to ask what he means, but Daryl takes your hand in his large one and hurries you along. The two of you nearly jog to the familiar stairwell where you used to look for him, and he pulls you up the steps to the top landing. He quickly unlocks the door, and the cool air engulfs you like an old friend.

Stepping out into the night, you take a deep breath of what feels like the freshest air you’ve ever breathed. You close your eyes to take in as much of it as you can. Days of being locked in your tiny apartment had felt like being suffocated, but being up here felt like learning how to breathe all over again. Your chest immediately loosens, welcoming the crisp cold air. Spinning around in it, your eyes fall on Daryl, leaning against a low wall, watching you with a small smile on his face.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully.

“Fer what? I haven’t even shown ya the surprise yet,” he replies with a sparkle in his eye.

You gasp. “A surprise?!”

“C’mere,” he says, reaching out a hand that you excitedly take. He leads you further down the roof, away from the door. When he steps aside, you find it: in the middle of the roof, strung up between two large vents, is a hammock. 

You look up at him, speechless. His cheeks burn pink, and he scratches the back of his neck, looking away. “I know it’s not much, but-”

“It’s perfect!” you shriek, jumping up to kiss him on the cheek before running towards it. You sit on one end, your weight pulling it down a bit as you slip out of your shoes, then lay back, letting it level out. Above you, there’s no sign of the building that has become your prison; all you can see is the tops of the nearby trees and the endless starry sky. 

Sighing with delight, you look back at Daryl, watching you as always.

“Come on,” you call to him. “There’s plenty of room for two up here.”

Hesitantly, Daryl walks towards the hammock, and you shimmy over towards the far side to give him room to sit. Keeping his boots on, he turns and lays beside you, rocking the hammock, causing you to roll into his side. Instead of shying away like he would have a week ago, he reaches an arm across for you to lay on, and you curl into him.

Together, the two of you lay there, looking up at the clear night sky. A gentle breeze causes the hammock to sway like a baby’s cradle. The only sounds are the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. No walker growls, no gunfire, no stress. You wish you could bottle this feeling up and take it with you, opening it in your most dire times of need. But instead you just sigh.

“You alright?” Daryl asks, his low voice vibrating against you.

“Yeah,” you answer lazily.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing really, just enjoying the moment,” you say with another sigh. 

Relaxed and wrapped around Daryl, you can’t help but picture what life could’ve been like all these months if he had returned to the prison when he meant to: sitting around campfires, laughing with friends; looking after the children together; going out on runs, knowing someone always had your back; ending each long day, exhausted but happy, in each other’s arms. The fantasy squeezes your heart tight and makes your eyes water.

“You think you would’ve liked me back at the prison?” you ask him suddenly.

Daryl, of course, just scoffs. “Nah,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, “I barely like you now.”

“Hey!” you protest, leaning up on your elbows. You go to poke him and chastise him, but he catches your hand and uses it to pull you in close. Landing on his chest, lips just inches from his, your breath hitches. Daryl’s hand snakes up to cup your face before pulling you in for a deep, languid kiss. You feel him smile against your lips, and your heart flutters in your chest.

When you pull away, Daryl’s still holding your face, rubbing a thumb along your cheekbone.

“I just want you to be happy here,” he says, barely above a whisper.

It feels like a shot to the chest. How can I possibly be happy here? you ask yourself. Your thoughts trail back to Dr. Carson’s words from the other day, about Rick and your people meeting with the Hilltop to plan how to fight back. You remember your determination to bring Daryl with you when you were rescued. How can you tell him any of this, when he’s making distinct efforts like this, with the intention of making you want to stay? I can’t tell him any of this, you think, swallowing hard.

Instead of answering aloud, you kiss Daryl again, long and slow, before snuggling back into him, head on his chest. A man of few words himself, he accepts this and pulls you in closer. 

The two of you stay this way for a while, until Daryl startles and snaps his fingers. “I almost forgot,” he says, reaching a hand into the pocket of his worn out jeans. He pulls out a keyring with a single key dangling from it. “Fer you,” he holds it out to you. “So you can come up here whenever ya want.” 

You take the key, holding it tightly to your heart. “Thank you,” you say for what feels like the millionth time with him. You lean up to kiss him again.

Suddenly, machine gun fire rips through the air. Daryl jumps up so quickly that it causes the hammock to flip, spilling you out onto the ground.

“What was that?” you yell, rubbing your freshly skinned elbow.

“I don’t know,” Daryl replies, running towards the edge of the rooftop to look over. You jam your feet back into your heels, and run to his side. Looking over, you don’t see anything. You strain your ears to hear, and the next time you hear the gunfire, the sound comes from behind you.

“It’s coming from inside,” you whisper, fear lacing your voice.

“C’mon,” Daryl grunts, grasping your hand as he breaks into a run for the door. You quickly stash the keyring in your bra as you try to keep up. 

Daryl flings the door open and leads you inside, not bothering to lock it again. The two of you rush down the stairs when he stops you, pushing you behind him while he looks out into the hall. Deciding it’s clear, he pulls you along behind him, one hand on you, the other unsheathing one of his knives. You swallow hard, wishing you had your knife on you, feeling stupid for being unarmed. 

When you and Daryl take another turn, you come across multiple Saviors running the opposite direction, armed to the teeth. Daryl grabs one of them by the back of his shirt.

“What’s going on?” he demands.

Eyes wide in fear, the Savior shouts three words you didn’t expect to hear: “We’re under attack!”

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

august 25, 2010

Delilah's eighteenth birthday was a tragic one. She spent it in a hospital room, watching her father connected to life-support machines. Carl stayed by the bedside, holding his father's hand, his sobs muffled in the blankets, while their mother stood just outside the door, speaking animatedly with a doctor. Shane tried to calm her, gently placing a hand on her arm.

Delilah felt suffocated in that hospital room. She curled up in a chair in the corner, hoping her father would wake up, but everyone knew, except Carl, that this wouldn't happen. At least, not now.

Carl's sobs grew louder, echoing in the empty room. Delilah had to fight back her own tears at the sight of her little brother in such distress. His desperation was palpable, especially when he offered to donate his blood to help their father.

She rose from the chair and went to Carl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He immediately sought refuge in her embrace, letting go of their father's hand and clinging to her with all his strength, tears soaking her shirt.

"Will he wake up?" he whispered. Delilah stroked his hair, trying to soothe him.

"I don't know," she replied. His sobs grew louder at this, and she felt a pang of guilt for not fully comforting him, but she didn't want to lie. She understood how these things worked, she knew what her father's job entailed, and unfortunately, their mother had prepared her over the years for such a possibility.

But Carl was young; he couldn't grasp what was happening, not yet. "Everything will be okay, Carl. I promise," she whispered like a mantra, holding him close until his cries began to soften.

The door to the room opened, and their mother entered with Shane, both looking devastated. Delilah knew what this meant. The doctor had no good news, and that could only mean one thing: Rick Grimes had very little chance of survival.

"Let's go home, kids," Lori whispered, her gaze never leaving her husband. "Let's give Dad some time to recover." Her voice was barely audible, but they got up anyway, Carl still in his sister's arms as they left the room in silence, followed by Shane.

"I'll take you home," Shane offered. "Go get some rest, and we'll wait for news from the hospital. Don't hesitate to call me for anything; it's what Rick would want."

"Thank you, Shane," Lori replied, accepting the comforting embrace he offered. It made Delilah shiver, and she held Carl even tighter. There was something wrong, something she had never seen before in Shane's eyes, and it was something she wished had remained hidden.

“How's your dad?”

“I don't know. He's in the hospital, and from what I understand, there isn't much good news. I just hope he gets better soon,” Delilah replied over the phone, pacing back and forth in her room. “It was a really shitty birthday present.”

Camilla chuckled on the other end. “I can imagine, but things will get better. I wanted to drop by to see you all, bring something for you and Carl, and even Lori, but my mom won't let me leave because of some weird news on TV.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that. It's probably another hoax. Tumblr is full of them lately. People losing their minds and doing stupid stuff. Did you see that post?”

“Which one?”

“Liza reblogged it. Apparently, cannibalism is making a comeback,” Delilah joked, unaffected by the macabre video circulating online. “It's probably fake, almost certainly, but it's one of the weirdest trends in the past few weeks.”

“Ew!” exclaimed Camilla. “And you watched it? You're crazy; I don't know how you don't throw up at that stuff.”

Delilah shrugged, taking a bite of the apple in her hand. “It's fake anyway. I doubt a group of lunatics would go around America eating people without getting caught. And the person filming it is way too calm.”

“You're weird, girl, let me tell you,” Camilla sighed on the other end. “Ugh, I have to go. My mom is freaking out over this news and wants to go back to Mexico to stay with relatives. She seriously sounds like a crazy woman!”

Delilah laughed. “Alright, see you tonight?”

“I don't think so, especially if my mom keeps this up. Talk to you tomorrow, girl!”

When she finished the apple, she tossed it out the window into the neighbor's garden, unconcerned about the complaints she would hear the next day. Her curiosity was piqued by her mother’s worried voice coming from the kitchen, apparently talking on the phone.

She left her room, peeked into Carl’s and quietly closed the door, seeing him asleep on the bed with one of their father's hoodies as a blanket. The sight made her heart ache; seeing her little brother in such a state broke her heart.

"Is everything okay?" she asked her mother as she came down the stairs, entering the kitchen where Lori was barricading the windows with blankets, blocking out the light. "What are you doing?"

Lori turned, surprised by the intrusion. Her face was full of worry. "Help me," she ordered, tossing Delilah some blankets and heading to the living room.

Delilah started to panic, confused by Lori's strange behavior. "Mom, what’s going on?" she asked, raising her voice, but Lori didn’t answer her directly.

"You're not going out tonight."

"What?! Why?" Delilah exclaimed, dropping the blankets. "You can't do this to me, it’s been planned for weeks! Mom?" She felt her anger rising, irritated by her mother's behavior.

She watched Lori move frantically around the house. "No one is leaving. Now help me until Shane gets here," Lori said, turning to look at her, and Delilah was shocked to see the pure terror on her mother’s face. Her anger turned into sheer fear.

"Mom?" she called. "Mom, what’s happening?"

Lori stopped, running her hands through her hair. "I don’t know, honey, I don’t know. Shane called from the hospital saying something’s happening, people are losing their minds, biting other patients. It's chaos in there, just like in the city. Everyone’s trying to leave."

"Leave from what?" Delilah asked, confused.

"I don’t know, something they mentioned on TV. But now help me and wake Carl up, we need to get ready to go," Lori resumed covering the windows. Heart pounding, Delilah went to wake Carl.

Delilah watched the landscape outside the window. The sky had grown dark, and they had been driving for hours, not knowing exactly where they were headed. She had heard Shane mention a refuge in downtown Atlanta, and the initial plan was to reach it as soon as possible. However, it seemed the entire city had the same idea, as they quickly found themselves stuck in traffic, an endless line of cars ahead of them.

“Wait here,” Lori said to the two kids as she got out of the car, followed by Shane, who went to talk to other people who had also stepped out of their vehicles, realizing they wouldn't be able to get out of this traffic jam anytime soon.

Delilah watched Carl looking around, alert. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, leaning her head against the window. “They’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

Carl turned to her. “How can you be so calm?”

“I’m tired,” she answered simply, closing her eyes to block out the external noises: people shouting, arguing, and especially the car horns blaring. “If you sleep, time passes faster.”

“I’m not sleepy, I want Mom,” Carl said, shifting on the seat to look outside, searching for Lori. “They’re coming back!” he exclaimed when he saw Lori and Shane returning with some other people.

“See? I told you it’d be okay,” Delilah said, growing more exhausted with each passing minute. She soon fell asleep, succumbing to the embrace of Morpheus.

But her peace was short-lived. Loud noises jolted her awake, and she noticed the car was now empty. Panic set in as she frantically looked for Carl, hoping he hadn’t wandered off to explore. Relief washed over her when she saw him with a group of people, playing with a blonde girl.

Shane and Lori were near their car, looking up at the sky from where the noise originated. Delilah joined them, also looking up, trying to understand what they were watching.

Lori took her by the shoulders, hugging her. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in her ear, stroking her hair. “As long as we’re together, it’ll be okay.”

The noise grew louder, and planes flew overhead. It didn’t take them long to realize where they were headed. Delilah followed Shane, who entered the woods, moving in the direction the planes were flying, with Lori right behind them.

“What’s happening?” she tried to ask, but her voice was drowned out by the roar of more planes passing overhead.

They stopped when they emerged from the woods near the highway. Delilah brought her hands to her mouth, horrified by the sight before her. Atlanta was being bombed, and even from that distance, they could see the explosions, the city lighting up in flames.

The refuge was gone, just like the normalcy of their entire world.

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Home?

“The world’s gone to shit.”

“Don’t talk like that, Delilah!” her mother scolded while thanking Emily for finding mushrooms to eat. “There’s only one way to know.”

“Asking Shane when he gets back?” asked the blonde, who was perhaps a few years older than Delilah.

Around them, a large group of people kept themselves busy in any way they could, trying to fill the empty moments and be helpful during this crisis. It was a kind of routine, something that allowed everyone to feel useful.

Delilah, however, seemed unable to adapt like the others. It had been a week since they had gathered at a mountain clearing, hoping they were far enough from the city to avoid attracting any of those things. Yet, every day, she found herself just watching the people moving around her.

The only useful thing she had done was help Daryl Dixon skin a squirrel. Daryl was a peculiar man—gruff, yet always ready to lend a hand around the small camp.

She glanced at her mother from the corner of her eye as she saw her stand up, looking for Dale, an old man with his beloved RV, to inform him she was going for a walk. Dale preferred spending his time on the roof of his RV with binoculars, keeping an eye on the surroundings and ensuring everyone was safe.

The man nodded, and Delilah looked away, feeling a strange sensation in her stomach. She knew that every time her mother left the camp when Shane was absent, it meant they were meeting secretly. Delilah knew what they were doing, and the mere thought made her nauseous.

Shane had been her father’s best friend and had recently returned with the news that her father was as good as dead in that hospital. Since then, her mother had thrown herself into Shane’s arms. Maybe out of desperation, but Delilah couldn’t find a good reason no matter how she looked at it.

“How are you?” Emily took Lori’s place, sitting closer to Delilah. “I know it’s not easy.”

Delilah shrugged. “Doesn’t change much for me,” she lied. “The gnats are bothering me more than this shitty situation, to be honest.”

Emily nodded. “Then you’re handling it better than many others.”

“We can say that. There’s not much we can do, in the end, whether we like it or not.”

Let me know if there are any more adjustments or details you’d like to add!

Delilah wanted to believe her own words, to find a light within that abyss, but it seemed impossible. She felt exhausted; sleeping with the constant fear of dying was something she wasn't used to and probably never would be.

Learning to live differently, finding a new balance—that was what they needed to do, and Delilah was afraid she wouldn't be able to manage it. She couldn’t accept that her world was truly over; everything that once mattered now meant nothing.

Emily sighed, getting up to go to her sister. Delilah knew she was drawing more and more glares each day, always sitting on the same log doing nothing. But she couldn’t bring herself to get up and help more.

Sometimes, she helped Daryl skin his catches or sat under the umbrella with Dale, watching the landscape while he obsessively scanned the area. She felt like she was going crazy, having to look after Carl because her mother was too busy screwing her dead father’s best friend.

Carl interrupted her thoughts, practically sitting on her lap, forcing a smile. "Hey, troublemaker, what’s up?"

"Nothing. Mom told me to stay where you could see me," he said, returning to playing with the toy cars Shane had given him. "And I’m bored."

Delilah hugged him, resting her head on his. "I’m bored too."

She glanced over at her mother, venturing into the woods under the watchful eyes of several survivors. Her mother’s affairs weren’t exactly a secret. Delilah felt almost embarrassed, uncomfortable with her mother’s behavior, as if her betrayal struck her on a personal level.

She could hear Andrea whispering to Emily, the curious looks from Carol. It wasn’t a secret, just like the fact that her mother had been married until a few days ago.

"Come on," she said, turning to Carl as she stood up and took his hand. "Let’s go bother Dale up there."

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The October breeze sent a shiver through Delilah as she sat atop Dale's camper. She found the spot strangely comforting; observing the world from above allowed her to feel a semblance of control over her life.

She hadn’t shed a tear since what she considered the apocalypse began. She couldn't feel anything but a deep emptiness inside, like she was a soulless body, just like the dead roaming their land.

Sometimes she woke in the middle of the night, gasping, hoping to find herself back in her bed, with Carl tucked under the covers after a bad dream, or her mother coming in to wake her, smiling at the sight of the two siblings.

But nothing was the same anymore, even though many struggled to accept it. The world had changed, and with it, the people. Her mother was a perfect example; it had been two months since the world ended, and the woman she once loved now only evoked disgust in her, just like Shane. Shane, who she had once had a crush on as a child, who had taught her to ride a bike, was now just a stranger.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Dale took a seat next to her, resting his rifle on his lap, ready if needed. “I know you’re scared, we all are. But we have to stick together and find a way to move forward.”

Delilah glanced at him, chuckling. “Is that a nice way of telling me I should get off my ass and help?”

The old man laughed, his laughter echoing in the quiet morning. They were probably the only ones awake at that hour, except for Dixon, who preferred wandering the woods over staying with the group. Delilah couldn’t blame him.

“You know what?” Dale turned to the girl, curious about what she meant. “There’s nothing worth my time. I don’t want to go picking mushrooms or berries with Emily, fishing with Andrea, or doing laundry with Carol and the others!”

She sank deeper into her chair. “I want to be really useful, to have a purpose. Helping Daryl, for example, or going into the city with Glenn, Andrea, Merle, and T-Dog. Not stuck here, in a glass bubble because my mom is paranoid.”

“Your mother cares about you and Carl; it's completely understandable why she wouldn’t want to throw you into the middle of all those walkers. I get it, it's a mother’s love speaking.”

The two fell silent after their brief interaction, listening to the birds' chirping and enjoying the last rays of sun before winter. October was unusually warm that year, but nothing guaranteed the winter would be the same. They had to prepare for a possible sudden cold snap.

Delilah wrapped herself in her red leather jacket, perhaps a bit too heavy for the mild weather, but the warmth reminded her of home, when everything was normal.

Home—a concept that had lost all meaning in a few weeks. None of them had a home anymore, even though Lori insisted that as long as the four of them stayed together, they were home. But Delilah had never heard anything more ridiculous.

Shane wasn’t home, and her mother might as well leave if it were up to her. She couldn’t look her in the eye anymore; the only thing her presence reminded her of was the constant orders. Do this, do that.

A noise from the woods caught Delilah's attention, causing Dale to jump to his feet and aim his rifle in the direction of the sound. Soon, the figure of Daryl emerged from the trees, with squirrels slung over his shoulder. The man shot a glare at Dale and gave Delilah a quick nod. She obeyed, quickly climbing down from the camper to meet him.

“Here,” he handed her the squirrels before heading back into the woods. Delilah watched him until he disappeared, finding him to be a particularly intriguing man. Without wasting time, she settled into her usual spot, took out her knife, and began making a circular cut around the tail.

When she finished, her hands were covered in blood, but at least they would have something to eat. The sun had fully risen by now, waking up the rest of the group and starting the daily chores. Carl soon joined her, clinging to her side out of boredom, following her around all day until Sophia invited him to play with the other kids.

In a way, she envied them as she watched them run around the camp, seemingly unfazed, as if they were just at a summer camp while she was stuck rotting in her usual spot. T-Dog had joked that she’d probably wear a hole in the log from sitting there so much.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Lori's voice came from behind her as she placed a kiss on Delilah's head. “Did you sleep well? How long have you been up?” Delilah shrugged.

Lori sighed, placing her hands on her hips, clearly distressed. She knelt in front of her daughter, trying to catch her eye. “Delilah... please look at me,” she said, taking Delilah's face in her hands, forcing her to make eye contact. “I know it’s tough, but—”

“No, don’t lecture me. You don’t have the right when you’re sleeping with Dad’s best friend,” Delilah interrupted, her tone harsh. Lori was taken aback, left speechless. She looked at her daughter, mouth agape, unable to find a defense because, in reality, she didn’t even know how to defend herself. “Do you really think you're being discreet? Everyone here knows! And you don’t know how ashamed I am that you’re my mother. You come off as nothing but a slut right now. You jumped into his arms right away, you didn’t even mourn Dad.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” Lori snapped, but Delilah stood up, leaving her mother alone, ignoring her calls. She had no intention of wasting time arguing about something that should never have been up for debate.

Hearing the commotion, Shane got up from the chair where he was cleaning knives and grabbed Delilah's arm. “Is everything okay?”

She looked at him, wondering if his kindness and concern were just a ploy to win her over, but she had no intention of playing his game. “Don’t touch me, you disgust me,” she snapped, shaking off his arm and walking away, hoping to find some peace and quiet.

Shane turned to Lori, confused, and seeing her devastated expression, he quickly pieced together what had happened. He rubbed his forehead, unsure of how to handle the situation, knowing that from now on, working with Delilah would be even more challenging.

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“What are you doin’ out here, kid?” Daryl's voice startled her. She turned quickly, noticing him sitting under a tree, working on his crossbow. “It’s dangerous.”

“I needed some space,” she shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “What are you doing?” she ventured to ask.

He looked her up and down, a perpetual scowl on his face. “Stuff.”

Delilah stared back, unfazed by his usual cold demeanor. Gathering her courage, she sat down next to him, leaning against the tree, hoping he wouldn’t shame her by sending her away. To her surprise, he said nothing, only casting the occasional sidelong glance.

“Not here to comfort you, if that’s what you want,” he said abruptly, making her turn to him. His eyes were fixed on his crossbow, his thick fingers adjusting a loose string.

“I just need some silence,” she replied, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze rustling the leaves above them, the sunlight warming her face. Finding moments of peace in this new world was rare. One always had to be on guard, and Delilah just wanted to rest for a few hours. Surprisingly, Daryl let her.

They stayed there for what felt like hours, lulled by the chirping of birds and occasional laughter from the camp. Her tranquility was abruptly cut short when Daryl nudged her foot with his boot. She opened one eye, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Get up. I’m going huntin’.”

“Can I come with you?” Delilah's request seemed to put Daryl in a quandary. He looked at her with annoyance, but she took it as a victory that he didn’t immediately say no. She stood up, brushing dirt and leaves off her pants, following him into the woods. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He stopped, turning to her and pointing a finger in her face. “Stay behind me. Don’t make noise.”

Delilah mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, earning an eye roll from him. She would do anything to break the routine, and if that meant staying silent as a mime, so be it.

She drew a knife from her belt, ready for any unexpected encounter with one of the undead. Daryl moved through the forest as if he knew it like the back of his hand, his steps silent despite his size. Occasionally, he would stop, aim his crossbow at the treetops, and fire, hitting a squirrel that fell to the ground, lifeless. 

He handed them to her, instructing her to tie them to a rope he gave her so they could carry more than a couple at a time. She obeyed, finally feeling genuinely useful for something other than playing house.

The sun was high in the sky, indicating it was probably early afternoon when they were drawn to a strange noise. “What the hell is that?”

“Sounds like an alarm,” Delilah said, moving next to Daryl, trying to determine the source of the noise. But another thought invaded her mind. She turned to him, panic rising inside her. “Won’t it attract the walkers?”

Daryl seemed to come to the same conclusion because he nodded and started retracing their steps. “Let’s get back to camp. It’s not safe.” She followed him like a faithful puppy, worried he might leave her in the woods with no way to find her way back because, if she were completely honest, she hadn’t paid attention to their direction.

It took them a while to return to camp, but when they arrived, they noticed the alarm had stopped. The source was a sleek red car. She turned to Daryl, hoping he might appreciate a good engine, but when she looked, he was already heading back into the woods.

She sighed, guessing they had only returned so he could ditch her there, getting rid of her presence. “Jerk,” she muttered, placing the squirrels near the makeshift kitchen and turning back to inspect the car.

“We’ll get some good parts for the RV from this,” Dale said, coming up beside her, examining the engine to check its condition. Delilah grimaced. “Do you really have to tear it apart?”

The old man smiled, leaning over the hood. “We need the parts. Besides, believe me, you’ll find another nice car. Not like anyone can do much with them now.”

“Dad!” Carl’s shout made her turn quickly, searching for her little brother. When she saw him, her knees nearly gave out. If not for the car, she would have collapsed.

Carl and her mother were running toward a man in a sheriff’s uniform, and Delilah thought she might be losing her mind. Maybe she had hit her head somewhere or was having a stupid hallucination. Maybe it was finally her time; maybe she was truly going crazy.

But when her father picked up Carl, falling to the ground and holding him as if his life depended on it, she realized her father was really there. Rick Grimes was alive.

Her heart tightened in her chest as she watched her mother hug and kiss him, but it couldn’t distract her from the fact that her father was alive. She saw him cry with joy as he embraced his family, then pull back slightly to look around, asking Lori something.

Delilah moved from where she had been leaning against the car, meeting her father’s eyes before running toward him. He caught her in his arms, lifting her off the ground and kissing her head, repeating how much he loved her like a mantra.

For the first time since the end of the world, Delilah Grimes cried in her father’s arms.

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“Can I come with you?” Delilah asked, approaching the group preparing to head back into the city to search for Merle Dixon and the bag full of guns. Rick didn’t even turn around before responding.

“No, sweetheart, it’s too dangerous. Stay here with your mom and Carl.”

“But—”

“No way, Lilah, don’t even think about it.” Rick insisted, giving her a kiss on the head before setting off with the group towards the city, once again leaving the rest of the camp to fend for themselves.

Delilah sighed, returning to her usual spot until Carl approached her with a smile. “Wanna come catch frogs with us?”

Delilah glanced at Shane behind the boy, noticing how his demeanor had shifted since her father's return. The mere thought made her nauseous, but what worried her most was the change in his gaze—possessive, dangerous.

“Uh, okay,” she agreed, letting the two boys lead the way while maintaining her distance from Shane and staying silent until they reached the women at the river, who were washing clothes.

It was a sweltering day for October, but none of them complained, instead relishing the warmth. They had been lucky to find a quarry so close to camp, providing them with fish and water to sustain them.

“I can’t catch anything,” Carl whined, his feet in the water, while Delilah watched from a rock, not entirely convinced to join them in the cold water.

Shane glanced around, then turned to the boy. “Yeah.” The atmosphere between the two was tense, different from just a few days ago, and Delilah was curious about what had happened, what had been said, to change their relationship so drastically.

In all the years Shane had been part of family events, dinners, lunches, and birthday parties, there had never been such a strange tension between them.

“They’re smart, they stay underwater,” Shane added.

“Maybe they’re just not interested in you,” Delilah commented. Her remark wasn’t entirely ignored, but Shane chose not to respond beyond a tight smile, not letting on that her words had irked him. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper in front of Carl.

“Little bastards, they know something’s up. That’s why you have to do it the old-fashioned way.” Shane proceeded to explain a rather pathetic plan to Carl, to which the boy responded with lukewarm enthusiasm.

Shane lay in wait before diving into the water, splashing Delilah. At least Carl seemed to be enjoying himself, laughing as he watched Shane thrash around in the water and warning him about the frogs swimming towards him.

There were no frogs, but that was a detail Delilah chose not to share with Carl.

When Shane sprayed water towards Carl, it hit Delilah square on, causing her to stand up and try to wring out her clothes. It wasn’t the time or place to get sick from a sudden gust of wind.

"Come on, Delilah! It's just a game!" Carl exclaimed when he saw her walking away from the quarry, a little sad that his sister had left. "Wait for me!"

He left the net in the water, moving away from Shane and trying to catch up with Delilah, catching her by the shirt. "You're not mad, are you? It wasn’t Shane's intention to get you wet."

"No, Carl, I'm fine. I just don't want to get sick, that's all," she reassured him, and the boy looked at her in silence. "I promise, pinky swear." She extended her little finger, and Carl smiled, hooking his with hers. Shane caught up with them shortly after, soaked from head to toe, a serious look on his face as he watched Delilah crouch down to Carl's level.

She took him by the hand, leading him out of the quarry to dry him off and make sure he didn't catch a cold either. Once she was sure he was in dry clothes, Delilah insisted he take a nap to recharge his energy, especially since there was nothing else to do, trying to fill his time as much as possible.

But voices outside the tent woke him up, also stirring Delilah from her daze. "What's going on?" he asked, yawning and stepping out of the tent, his sister following soon after.

They saw much of the group heading towards a side of the camp, and they decided to join them, holding Carl's hand in case there was danger. She kept him behind her, acting as a shield until they stopped in front of a rather bizarre scene.

Delilah approached Carol. "What's happening?"

The woman shook her head. "I have no idea. It seems like it's been going on for hours. The heat must have gotten to him, poor thing."

A man named Jim was digging holes in the ground, and the most frightening and chilling thing that gave Delilah goosebumps was the fact that they were human-sized. She held Carl close, worried that Jim had really lost his mind and was about to do something foolish.

"Jim, why don't you stop?" Shane tried to talk to him, but the man continued undeterred, acting as if he hadn't heard him, and given his condition, it was highly likely that he hadn't.

The sun beat down harder than ever, and Delilah found herself compelled to take off her jacket to avoid risking heatstroke; her shirt was sticking to her back due to a thin layer of sweat that was starting to cover her forehead as well.

"What do you want?" Jim's voice was hoarse, tired, and irritated.

"We're all just worried, that's all. Dale says you've been here for hours."

"And so?" the man seemed genuinely confused, looking around to take note of the worried and frightened faces of the rest of the group.

"Why are you digging? Are you heading to China, Jim?" Shane tried to lighten the mood, ignoring the clear signs of stress in the man in front of him.

Jim raised his arms, smiling sarcastically. "What does it matter? I'm not hurting anyone," and he resumed digging.

"If not yourself, then, Jim, it's 37 degrees now. You can't go on like this," Delilah realized it was hotter than she thought, not imagining that October could become so hot even though it was normal to have high temperatures around this time where they were. Not this high, though.

Shane approached him, preventing the others from understanding what he was saying, and in no time, he had Jim pinned to the ground, forcing him to stop. "It's for your own good, Jim," he said.

Delilah took Carl away from the scene, not wanting him to witness such acts of violence not so much for fear that he would get strange ideas, but because she knew how much he cared about and admired Shane; she didn't want to ruin his vision of him. She ignored his complaints, assuring him that Shane was more than capable of handling the situation on his own.

But Delilah knew she couldn't protect Carl forever, especially since that same evening the first attack would reduce the group and bring death into their existence.

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Delilah watched her father talk into the walkie-talkie while looking out at the city of Atlanta from a distance, lost in his conversation with someone she had no idea about. It still felt strange to her, surreal even, that her father was there with them and not in a hospital turned into one of those walking dead.

It was a miracle.

But the peace after the previous night's attack had been shattered. The now smaller and frightened group no longer felt safe in the woods and intended to move towards the CDC in the hope of finding some answers.

She watched Carl and Sophia reluctantly say goodbye to Eliza and Louis, the only other children in the group, before heading down a different path, most likely never to see them again.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?" Rick put an arm around his daughter's shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug as they watched the same scene. "I promise you, everything will be fine. I swear."

But Delilah didn't know if she could believe that. She had learned more than once since the beginning of this new world that things wouldn't always go the right way, yet a part of her wanted to believe it. She rested her head on his shoulder, letting his gentle touches soothe her in the hope of dispelling the fears that formed in her mind every day.

"I want to believe you," she whispered, pulling away when she saw Shane approaching from a distance. She excused herself, moving away from the two men and joining Carl, who was now watching Jim with an expression of distrust.

She couldn't blame him. It had only been a few hours since they discovered he had been bitten, and the idea that he might turn into one of those things made everyone tense, scared that something like last night's incident could happen again. "Hey, little man."

Carl barely turned, his gaze still fixed on the man tied up under the tree. "Want to help me finish putting away the stuff? I need your strong arms to move all that gear, or I'll be here until tomorrow."

She tried to lighten the mood with humor. It was hard to put on a smile that wasn't genuine, but she did it for Carl, for his safety.

The boy nodded slowly, walking towards the last tent that needed to be packed up, and Delilah followed shortly after, closing it all up and loading it into Dale's RV for the journey.

She took one last look at the breathtaking view they were leaving behind, hating the fact that such tranquility was a result of the world's end and not just a simple family trip. She climbed into the RV with the others, silently complaining about the fact that they had brought Jim along in the hope of finding a cure at the CDC.

Dale glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he drove, feeling pity for the girl's lack of liveliness. He had gotten to know her a bit during those weeks they had spent together and found her to be a bright girl, perhaps too bright for her own good, and in a normal life, she could have been very successful with that sharp mind.

He sighed, seeing the light in her eyes dimmed, knowing there was nothing that could restore it. In this world, you had to learn to survive, or you perished.

"Damn," Dale exclaimed as he saw smoke billowing from the RV's hood, pulling over in the middle of the road to check if the damage was severe. "This old clunker won't last much longer."

It took Delilah a moment to realize they had stopped. With her eyes closed, she'd been trying to block out Jim's agonized groans from the back, where he was starting to lose his mind.

She leaned forward to look out the window, noticing the entire group had halted. Rick was next to Dale, inspecting under the RV's hood. He gave his daughter a reassuring nod before returning to his conversation with Dale.

She settled back into her seat, trying to get some sleep. She had no idea how long they'd be stopped or on the road, what awaited them at the CDC, and certainly didn't want to face it with only a few hours of rest. It was hard to get a good night's sleep under their conditions, but inside the RV, she felt somewhat safe, if not for Jim.

She growled in frustration when she couldn't relax, the man's presence too overwhelming. She opened her eyes when she felt movement, the RV rocking slightly, and soon after saw her father making his way inside.

"Everything okay?" she asked, watching him head toward where Jim lay, drenched in sweat and his face twisted in agony. She went silent, pressing herself against the seat to overhear their conversation.

Rick stood by the bed. "We'll be back on the road soon, don't worry."

"Oh, Christ. No," Jim moaned. "My bones… my bones are like glass, every little bump…. God, this trip is killing me. Leave me here. I'm done." He looked at Rick, resigned to his horrible situation. "Leave me here."

His request stunned the entire group, making the rest of the journey solemn as they lost another member. Delilah watched through the window as Jim's figure under a tree grew smaller. She closed her eyes when she saw him put the gun barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger.

Delilah woke up when she subconsciously felt the RV stop, realizing they were in front of what she assumed was the CDC.

"Are we here?" she asked, stretching, her muscles stiff from the position she had slept in all day. Dale nodded and got out, grabbing his rifle and waiting for everyone to disembark before closing the door. "Wow."

The entire group paused to take in the scene before them; abandoned military vehicles were everywhere, barricades at every corner, but the most disturbing sight was the hundreds of bodies scattered across the area. They were careful not to touch them, unsure if they were truly dead or the walking dead.

The putrid stench of the corpses made Delilah gag, forcing her to turn away from the group and vomit the little food she had eaten. She felt the acidity of her stomach in her throat and was grateful when someone placed a hand on her back and handed her a bottle of water, until she saw who it was.

"Alright, keep moving, let's go!" Shane ordered quietly, understanding that the less attention they attracted, the better. Delilah cringed as she felt his hand still on her back. "Thanks," she muttered, handing back the bottle and shrugging off his hand.

She quickened her pace to rejoin the group, ignoring Shane’s intense gaze boring into the back of her head. Carl reached out his hand to his sister, and she took it, squeezing tightly, not wanting to be separated again.

It felt like navigating a minefield. Glenn pointed out a few walkers with his rifle, who were wandering aimlessly instead of lying still. Carl’s grip tightened painfully on her hand, making her wince slightly from the pain.

The odor grew more pungent, and Delilah had to cover her nose with her arm, like many others in the group. When they finally reached the CDC, they found the shutters closed, the place seemingly barricaded from the inside. The faint glimmer of hope within each of them began to fade.

“Walkers!” Daryl shouted, rushing forward and firing his crossbow. Glenn and Dale joined in, trying to protect the group as they desperately searched for a way in. “You led us to a graveyard!”

“He made a decision,” Lori said, letting go of Carl’s hand and moving closer to Rick.

Daryl snarled, “A bad decision! Look around, damn it!”

“Shut up. You hear me?” Shane snapped, getting in Daryl’s face and escalating the situation. They started shoving each other, making enough noise to attract even more walkers.

Rick tried to calm things down, but even Shane seemed to lose his patience. He argued that they were at a dead end and if they stayed there any longer, they’d all be dead. Suddenly, the shutters began to move.

The group fell silent, watching hopefully as the shutters slowly rose just enough to let them pass through. A voice crackled through the speakers.

“Get inside! Quickly!”

The faint hope that had almost vanished suddenly returned. Delilah squeezed Carl’s hand tighter, almost pulling him along as they ran towards the entrance. Once inside, the shutters closed behind them with a definitive clang, shutting out the chaos and the walkers.

Rick led the group down a dimly lit hallway until they reached a large metal door that slowly opened, revealing a tired but kind-looking man in a lab coat.

“Welcome to the CDC. I’m Dr. Edwin Jenner,” he said, his voice weary but welcoming. “You got here just in time.”

The group exchanged uncertain but relieved looks. Delilah felt a semblance of safety for the first time in ages, hoping they had finally found a place to rest and, maybe, some answers.

Rick stepped forward. “Thank you for letting us in. We didn’t know how much longer we could hold out out there.”

Jenner nodded, his eyes scanning the tired and worn faces before him. “We’ll do our best to help you. But you need to understand... there aren’t many answers here. Just attempts and hopes.”

Delilah, still holding Carl’s hand, knew those words held the harsh truth of their new world. However, even a glimmer of hope was better than the complete darkness they had been facing.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

She had no idea how long she had stood under the hot water, but she couldn’t bring herself to step away from the soothing sensation she had missed so much. When she finally emerged from the shower, wrapped in a bathrobe, it felt like she was in a dream.

The room had a single bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and finally, some privacy. If it weren’t for the barricaded window, it might have felt like a hotel room.

As she started getting dressed, a knock on the door startled her. “I’ll be right there!” she called out, quickly pulling on some clean clothes. She hurried to the door and was surprised to see Dr. Jenner standing there, gloves on and a kit in hand.

“May I come in?” he asked, stepping inside and setting the kit on the desk. He looked at her for a moment. “Please, take a seat. I need to draw some blood.”

Delilah sat down and extended her arm. Goosebumps rose on her skin as he took her wrist and gently straightened her arm. “Why? None of us have been bitten or sick.”

“It’s protocol. I’ve already drawn samples from your family. Nothing to worry about,” he said. He didn’t smile or offer any reassurance, but his straightforwardness brought her a sense of comfort.

She nodded, watching him tie a tourniquet around her bicep. Curiosity got the better of her. “Where are all the other doctors? Shouldn’t this place be full?”

Jenner glanced up for a second before returning to his task. “I’m the only one left.”

“How did they die?”

Jenner paused, swallowing hard. “Various reasons, but there wasn’t an attack here at the CDC.”

Delilah felt a chill despite the warmth of the room. “So, why did they leave?”

“Some left to be with their families. Others... gave up.” He didn’t elaborate, but the weight of his words hung in the air.

“Gave up?”

“Losing hope in a place like this can be worse than the infection itself,” he admitted quietly, focusing on drawing her blood. “When you’re faced with the end of the world, not everyone can keep going.”

Delilah looked at Jenner, seeing the exhaustion etched into his features. “How do you keep going?”

He didn’t answer immediately, finishing up and placing a bandage on her arm. “I keep going because I have to. Because if I don’t, then all those people who gave up did so for nothing.”

She watched as he packed up his kit. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Jenner nodded, pausing at the door. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

As he left, Delilah felt the weight of his words settle over her. She lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The world outside was falling apart, but in here, they had a chance. It wasn’t much, but it was something to hold onto.

She decided to join the group in the cafeteria, smiling at the sight of such a peaceful, almost normal scene. "Have you been here for long?" she asked, noticing Glenn struggling to contain his laughter and maintain a serious demeanor.

The boy handed her a glass of red wine, and Delilah thanked him, wetting her lips with the intense red liquid. "Can I try?" She almost spat out the wine when she heard Carl's question, and after briefly glancing at her mother, she passed him the glass.

The table fell silent as everyone watched the boy take a sip of the wine, grimacing in disgust as soon as the liquid touched his tongue. They all burst into laughter, and Delilah hugged her little brother, tousling his hair. "You're a big boy now."

"Come on! Leave me alone," Carl tried to squirm out of her grasp, but she didn't let him go.

The two siblings began to playfully wrestle, ending up on the floor with Delilah on top of Carl, pinning his limbs and tickling him. The boy turned red from laughter and the effort of trying to flip his sister over, but to no avail.

"I surrender! I surrender!" Carl shouted, waving the white flag, and Delilah got up, giving him a hand to stand. When the group started applauding, she took a bow before sitting down again to fill her stomach that she had emptied earlier.

During dinner, as it started to get late, the group began to disperse to retire to their rooms for a good night's sleep. Carol took the opportunity to take Sophia and Carl to a room resembling a library to read them a book before bedtime.

Even Rick and Jenner stepped away from the banquet to discuss what Delilah presumed was their overnight arrangements. When her mother left to follow Carol, she frowned upon seeing Shane, a little tipsy, following shortly after.

She started to get up, but Glenn's hand pulled her back into her seat, making her smile at his tipsy appearance. A faint smile was present on his features, his head slightly tilted to the side, the bottle of red wine in his hand.

"Stay here," he slurred.

Daryl, on the other side of the table, chuckled, catching Delilah's attention as she turned, unaware of his presence. She thought she was alone with the Asian boy. "Good luck with that," he said.

"What do you mean by that?" Both struggled to understand what he was saying, as alcohol muddled his words and made it nearly impossible to comprehend. Delilah chuckled, getting up and offering him an arm. "Let's go, Glenn, let's get you to your room."

"Oh, and then you'll stay with me?" The suggestive comment made Delilah pause in her tracks, supporting him with one arm and giving him a light smack on the back of his head. "Ow!"

"You're drunk, Glenn, watch what you say," she scolded, pulling him away from the wall he had leaned on.

The boy followed her, leaning on her for support when his head spun too much. In no time, they found themselves in front of his quarters, a few doors down from hers. “Where’s your key?”

“Uh…” The boy let go of her arm and began patting his pants pockets until he found it, smiling and holding the keys up to her eyes. “Ta-da!”

Glen struggled to insert the key into the door, his hand wavering left and right due to his state. The girl had to stifle her laughter when she had to catch him as he leaned against the open door.

“You’re really wasted,” she said, struggling to carry him to the bed and throwing him onto it with all the strength she could muster. She turned to leave, feeling the alcohol she had drunk beginning to get to her. “Goodnight, Glenn.”

“Wait,” he tried to sit up but sank back down when dizziness overcame him. “Stay, please?”

Delilah turned to look at him, searching his eyes for any sign of malice, but saw only a boy around her age, alone and scared. She closed the door and sat beside him, gently stroking his shoulder. “Are you okay, Glenn?”

The boy slid to the floor, leaning against the mattress, and Delilah followed, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. The atmosphere between them had shifted dramatically; the lightheartedness and carefree attitude from a few minutes ago had been replaced by the heavy weight of their reality.

“I don’t know…how to feel,” Glenn said, staring at the wall in front of them. “I can’t stop wondering how my family is, if they’re okay. If they’re alive.”

Delilah didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t the best at comforting others, especially someone she didn’t have a close bond with. She rested her head against his, hoping the silence wouldn’t be too oppressive for him.

“Everything will be alright, Glenn, I promise,” she said. But what Delilah didn’t know was that not everything would be alright. They would face many obstacles on their journey, and not all of them would leave them unscathed.

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Another Day

Delilah watched the countryside roll by through the camper window, her head occasionally bumping against the glass due to the road's bumps. No one dared to speak during the journey, each of them a little more disappointed than the other about being back on the road.

She had been right to distrust the doctor; the man had decided to blow himself up along with the CDC due to his lost hope. Perhaps the silence was tied to that—the realization that there was no way to return to their old lives was finally sinking into their minds.

Daryl passed them on his motorcycle and she glanced in the rearview mirror to see the car behind them, feeling a pang in her heart as she saw her family laughing and smiling. She felt misplaced, somewhat guilty, for not being able to find anything good in their situation.

It might have been a selfish thought, but not even the idea of still having her family consoled her because, in the end, each of them was dead.

She sighed and looked back at the road ahead, straightening in her seat when she saw the beginning of a highway blocked by several cars. "What the hell..."

Glenn stood up and took a seat between her and Dale in the front, trying to hear what Daryl had to say once he returned on his motorcycle.

"Can we get through?" Dale asked, turning off the engine, but the man just shook his head before moving on to the car behind them.

Glenn grabbed a map, checking their location. "Maybe we should turn back; there's still time. There's a bypass—"

"We can't waste fuel. It's already a miracle this thing is still running," Dale said, cautiously driving through the traffic, trying not to touch the abandoned cars. Delilah stared in shock at the scene ahead of them; the line of cars stretched as far as she could see.

"All these people..." she commented as they passed a car with a corpse inside. "It's strange they left everything here."

"These cars have probably been here since the beginning, maybe a few months. You can't blame them for trying to escape the city; they must have wanted to reach relatives or some safe place."

"Damn," Glenn said, the further they went, the worse the condition of the cars became. Many were wrecked, windows and doors shattered, some overturned or off the road, and Delilah couldn't help but agree with him.

"Can we get through there?" Dale squinted at the cars ahead. Daryl stopped and shook his head, indicating they couldn't pass between the cars, and, as luck would have it, the engine started smoking again. "Damn it!"

Everyone sighed, stopped again by not one but two obstacles. Dale turned off the camper, and Delilah took the opportunity to get out and get some air. The sun provided a bit of warmth now that the days were starting to get shorter and colder. Yet it still seemed too hot for the end of October.

Her mother came up behind her, placing a hand on her arm. "What's going on?"

"The reactor is smoking again, and we can't get through," she replied, pulling away from her, ignoring the hurt expression on her mother's face. Instead, she took the opportunity to go to Carl and greeted him with a kiss on the head. "God, you stink."

"Hey!" the boy exclaimed, pulling away and trying to hide a laugh. "Not like you smell like roses."

Delilah stuck her tongue out at him before running off. Carl, pretending to be offended, started chasing her. They ran around until Rick called them back. "Carl, stay with your sister. Got it? And Delilah, keep an eye on him while you look for useful things in the cars. Don't wander too far, okay?"

Both nodded, and Delilah grabbed Carl by the shoulder, pulling him close. Rick took the opportunity to hug them. "I love you guys."

"We love you too," Carl replied before grabbing his sister's wrist and dragging her toward one of the cars. "Come on, Lilah! Let's go." 

"Take it easy, no one's chasing us, Carl," Delilah sighed, rolling her eyes before starting to check the car next to the one Carl was inspecting. They found nothing useful in the first few cars, so they moved on to check the next ones. While Carl rejoiced at finding some snacks, Delilah discovered something she would treasure.

She pulled out a dagger with a black handle and a gleaming blade from under a pillowcase, examining her reflection on its surface. She tied the sheath to her leg and slid the blade inside, keeping it close to her.

Delilah stood up and exited the car. When she turned to look for the rest of the group, she was puzzled to see her father with his rifle raised towards them and Dale on top of the camper with binoculars.

A chill ran down her spine as her father motioned for them to come closer. She slowly turned around, her face paling when she saw a horde of walkers just a few meters away. "Carl!"

She crouched and whispered to Carl, who was a few steps away from her. The boy turned to her, confused. Delilah gestured with her head towards the direction of the horde and brought a finger to her lips to indicate silence.

Carl, crouching as well, moved closer to Delilah, who took his hand and began to guide him towards their father. When they reached him, he pointed to a car. "Get under there and stay quiet."

Delilah dragged a trembling Carl under the car with her, covering his mouth when he started to hyperventilate. She tried to calm him, assuring him that everything would be alright while observing their surroundings. She managed to spot her mother with Carol under a car a few meters away and Sophia alone under the car next to them.

The horde slowly reached them, and Delilah had to cover her nose against the putrid smell emanating from the decaying bodies. Nausea rose in her throat, but she forced herself to swallow it down and remain silent.

Carl moved closer to her, burying his face in her jacket and stifling his sobs.

Sophia began to panic, which in turn worried Carol. Unfortunately, luck was not on their side, and Sophia's whimpers caught the attention of one of the passing walkers.

Very slowly, the walker bent down, almost collapsing onto the pavement under the weight of its decomposing body. Sophia screamed in terror and scrambled out from under the car. Delilah couldn't see where she went, but her heart pounded as the walker turned its head towards them, likely drawn by their scent.

"Go, go!" she pushed Carl to the side. The growls of the walker grew louder as it spotted the girl, baring its broken teeth and decayed flesh.

Delilah dodged, trying to avoid the long fingers reaching for her. She drew the dagger she had found earlier, driving it into the walker's head with all the strength she could muster. The blade sank into its skull with a sickening crunch, splattering blood everywhere, including on Delilah's face.

She stood still for a moment, in shock, as she stared at the now truly dead body. "Delilah!"

Her father's voice reached her ears muffled, and a pair of hands grabbed her arm. As if waking up, she began to struggle. "It's okay, it's okay."

She got to her feet, still shaken, until someone wiped her face with a cloth. "It's okay..."

Her mother's voice calmed her, and she allowed herself to be enveloped in her arms. Her heart slowly returned to its normal pace. Once she was calm, she turned, looking around for her father.

"Where's Dad?" she asked.

"He went after Sophia, everything's fine."

"Stop saying everything's fine! It's. Not. Fine!" Delilah enunciated each word with anger, and the rest of the group gathered near them. "Stop repeating it, face reality, Mom! It’s driving me crazy every day, this belief that everything will be okay. Just look around! There's nothing left, nothing. Nada."

Lori stared at her, mouth open, shaking her head. "Delilah, don't—"

"Don't say this, don't do that, don't go here, don't go there. Enough! I'm sick of this air of authority!" Delilah's voice rose, uncaring if any walkers were still around. "You haven't acted like a mother for years, and now? Now you think you can tell me what to do or how to behave? What to say?"

"Don't talk to your mother like that," Shane marched towards her, positioning himself between her and her mother, his look sending chills down the young woman's spine, but she kept her head high. "And you stop trying to be a father. Carl and I already have one."

Delilah's venomous comment sparked something in him; she saw a switch flip in his eyes and wondered if she had gone too far. She swallowed, waiting for a response, but none came. She stepped out of the spotlight, retrieving her dagger from the skull of the walker she had just killed.

She remained inside the RV for hours, watching the rest of the group move the cars to make space for the camper. She felt immature, like a child, treating everyone with the silent treatment, but it seemed the only way to calm her anger.

As the sun slowly set, Carol began to panic more than before, nervously checking the direction her daughter had run off in. But when Rick and Daryl returned empty-handed, all Delilah could hear were her cries.

She felt pity for the woman; from what little she had seen and guessed, Carol didn't come from a happy marriage, and now Sophia had vanished into a forest filled with creatures that wanted nothing more than to sink their teeth into her skin, tearing her apart to devour her.

What a macabre new reality it was, something Delilah never expected to live through, only to read about in apocalyptic novels. Footsteps approached the RV, causing the girl to straighten, expecting someone to scold her for the scene she had made with her mother a few hours earlier. But it was her father who appeared at the doorway.

The man enveloped her in a hug, and she had to hold her breath; blood and sweat, a pungent odor. She hugged him back. “Thank God you’re safe.

The night was strangely silent. Delilah decided to position herself on the roof of the RV, using the excuse of checking the perimeter in case of another horde. The truth, however, was different. She needed time to think, to understand if it was possible that there were others like them or if their fate was sealed.

"Your head's smoking worse than the RV's reactor, kid," Dale said, taking a seat next to her, rifle in hand. "Is it about your mother?"

Delilah shook her head, lowering it to look at her hands. "No, I don't waste time on that."

The man smiled. "Well, you actually have a lot of free time," he commented, eliciting a smile from the girl. "But really, Delilah, what's bothering you?"

"Do you think we're alone?" she turned to him. "Is there anyone else out there like us, someone who wants to live, not just die out of fear of trying?"

The question seemed to confuse the old man for a moment. "Of course, there are a lot of people in the world. Someone else must be out there, but you have to be the first to want to live. Otherwise, how do you expect to move forward?" He smiled gently at her. "I try to see the world through your eyes, a teenager whose normalcy was ripped away, bringing pain, death, and suffering prematurely. It's something no one should ever face, but to live, you have to make a difference now. And you, Delilah, are you willing to make a difference?"

Dale didn't know it yet, but looking into the girl's eyes, he would see that in the not-too-distant future, she would indeed be part of a great change. He would never find out, and one day, Delilah would be grateful, knowing that the old man's opinion of her and her actions would not have been positive.

"No, I don't want to make a difference. I just want to live in peace, to have the security of not dying tomorrow..." her voice was barely louder than a whisper as she looked back up at the star-filled sky, smiling at its clarity.

When she was in school, she hadn't believed her science teacher when he told her that the skies were polluted by the amount of light and electricity, but at that moment, under the stars, she couldn't help but agree.

Delilah pointed at the sky. "That's Orion, probably the most famous constellation in the world."

"Do you like the stars?"

"No," Dale laughed at her immediate response. "But Carl does. I don't know why. He watched Star Wars once, and from that day on, he started studying every constellation in the sky. I don't know the reason, but even now, he points them out to me when he can't sleep at night."

"He's a good boy, Carl. Very bright, like you." Delilah blushed at the veiled compliment. "It's a shame he has to grow up in this cruel world. If growing up was difficult before, now it will be much harder. He'll be exposed to cruelty and violence; it's a pity to ruin a soul as pure as a child's..."

The truth was painful, raw, and yet Delilah couldn't help but nod at the old man's words; Carl would grow up differently from her, deprived of the beautiful teenage experiences and everything that comes with youth.

The peace and serenity of the night slowly lulled Delilah into the world of dreams, protecting her for a few hours from the grotesque new life that awaited her in the coming months, promising her a few hours of normality.

But that peace was interrupted the next morning when the first rays of sun touched her face, waking her slowly. Muffled voices, still dulled by sleep, caught her attention, and she tried to wake up to understand what they were saying.

Unable to catch much, she decided to climb down from her perch on top of the RV, finding the entire group a few meters away. "What's happening?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"We're going to look for Sophia. We're splitting into two groups. Shane and I will head east, while the rest of the group goes west. This way, we can cover as much territory as possible and have a better chance of finding her," Rick explained, his words punctuated by a sob from Carol, who wrapped her arms around herself, desperate.

Dale stepped forward, his expression serious. "I'm not leaving my RV here."

Delilah looked at Dale and then at her father. "I don't want to go into the woods. It's full of those things and insects. I'll stay here with Dale."

"Delilah, it would be better if we didn't separate too much," Rick approached his daughter, concerned. "Please, don't make this more complicated than it already is."

Delilah knew the chances of the girl still being alive were slim; surviving the night alone would have been difficult. But it seemed like the only way to convince her father to let her stay.

She saw the conflicted expression on her father's face twist into a grimace. He shook his head until Dale approached, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on her, I promise."

Rick stared at Dale intently before sighing and nodding reluctantly. "Okay. Fine, be careful, alright?" He gave Delilah a hug before heading off with the rest of the group towards the woods beside the highway. Carl waved at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh.

Once the group disappeared from sight, Delilah turned on her heel, walking towards the direction of cars they hadn't yet inspected. Dale's voice stopped her. "Where are you going? Don't make me break the promise I made to your father, kid."

"I'm looking for something useful. I won't go far, I swear. And if we find some medicine for him," she pointed to T-Dog leaning against the RV, his bandaged and bleeding forearm, "it would be better. We both know it will get infected very soon."

"Very reassuring," the man chuckled, hiding a grimace of pain. The wound was already getting infected, and at this rate, it would be nearly impossible to stop it before it spread through his system.

"Be careful!" he shouted, and she, already on her way, raised a thumb in acknowledgment.

The cars had already been scavenged by someone in the early days of the apocalypse, Delilah thought. Many were empty or destroyed, showing signs that someone had left their mark. Despite the initial bad luck, she managed to find something relatively useful, more for entertainment than necessity.

She emptied a black backpack she found in one of the cars, filling it with comic books for Carl and melee weapons like daggers, Swiss army knives, and tools that could be useful for Dale and his RV.

She also grabbed some canteens, rejoicing when they were still full of water. She didn't care if the water was warm or had a strange taste, indicating it had been there for a while. Water was water, and ever since they left the quarry, they often risked running out of potable water.

One car in particular caught her attention, a black SUV almost entirely intact, unlike the cars around it. Curious, she approached it, cautious and alert when she heard a strange noise coming from inside the vehicle.

She drew her dagger, ready to kill a walker if necessary, but a whimper made her lower the weapon. She checked the interior of the SUV, the passenger door open, and found no corpses. What struck her instead was what she saw on the driver's side, busy devouring a packet of what she recognized as chips.

"Shit, I can't believe it," Delilah laughed, catching the attention of Dale a few meters away, also searching for supplies in the cars. Curious about what had surprised the girl so much, he approached her.

"Everything okay?" When he reached her, he saw her half inside an SUV, reaching for something. He raised an eyebrow when he heard a high-pitched whimper, something the girl certainly couldn’t have made.

Delilah emerged from the SUV, holding a puppy that looked like a Doberman. The pup squirmed in her arms, trying to bite her hands in vain as she held it up in front of Dale.

The man smiled in surprise. "Oh my god, look at that. And what are you doing here, huh?"

"I'm keeping it," Delilah said, ignoring the man's changing expression. She looked him straight in the eyes. "Yes, I know it's a commitment. But Mom and Dad never got me a dog when I was little, and besides, it could be useful, don't you think? We can train it to help us, like a guard or for hunting."

Dale seemed to weigh her words carefully before speaking. "That's not what I meant, Delilah, but I think we can't afford another mouth to feed. And if it starts barking when there are walkers around, it could cause trouble."

"I'll take care of that, and the food. Don't worry." He couldn't bring himself to tell her it was a bad idea again, to scold her for being an extra burden on the group, because he had never seen the smile she now had on her lips.

She looked like a normal teenager again, carefree, as she gazed dreamily at the puppy as if her life depended on it. "Hmm, alright. But it's your responsibility."

Delilah kept smiling. "Even if you had said no, I would have kept it anyway, but I appreciate it."

The puppy quickly adapted to the girl's presence. After a few hours, it began to follow her like a duckling, curious about every place she inspected. She was grateful for its innate loyalty, as she hadn't found anything resembling a leash and losing it would have hurt more than helped.

Luck seemed to be on her side that day. She managed to find not only dog food but also human food, although it would need something to cook it with.

"I found some pasta, a lot of it, in one of the cars down there," Delilah emptied the backpack onto the hood of a car next to the RV, showing the loot to her two companions. "I didn't find any medicine for you, T-Dog, just some Tylenol, but I don’t know how much that will help..."

T-Dog's condition seemed to worsen by the hour. The heat, stress, hunger, and thirst certainly weren't helping his mental state, and he was starting to delirious. It appeared that T-Dog wasn't a fan of their new companion, creating a comical scene when the curious puppy approached him, only for T-Dog to shoo it away with a bark.

The puppy looked confused, then trotted back to sit next to Delilah.

Delilah petted the puppy, trying to hide her worry about T-Dog. "We really need to find some proper medicine for him," she said softly to Dale.

Dale nodded, his expression serious. "I know. But we've already searched most of the nearby cars. We might need to go further out."

"Maybe Rick and the others will find something when they come back," Delilah suggested, though she didn't sound very hopeful.

"Let's hope so," Dale replied. "In the meantime, we'll do our best to keep him comfortable and hydrated."

Delilah continued to comfort the puppy, who was now nuzzling against her leg. "I think I'll name you Orion," she said, looking down at the little dog. "Since we found you under the stars."

Dale smiled at that. "Orion, huh? That's a good name."

As the day wore on, Delilah and Dale did what they could to care for T-Dog and the puppy, while keeping an eye out for any threats. The small moments of normalcy, like naming the puppy, helped them keep their spirits up in the midst of their dire situation. But the weight of their reality was never far from their minds, and they knew that every decision they made could mean the difference between life and death.

"Can we really trust this? I mean, a woman on horseback comes rushing up to us, giving directions to a farm where the rest of the group supposedly settled. Does that seem odd to anyone else?" Andrea cast a skeptical glance at the puppy nestled in Delilah's arms, incredulous about their new companion. "And a dog? Seriously?"

"What the hell do you want?" Delilah shot back, holding the sleeping puppy tightly, unaffected by the bumps in the country road. Her temper had worsened upon hearing that her little brother was in critical condition with a bullet wound in his stomach.

Throughout the ride, Delilah couldn't stop her leg from trembling or keep herself from biting her cuticles, nervous and anxious about Carl's situation. Was it intentional? What had happened? But the worst thought that crossed her mind was one.

Had it been Shane?

The woman on horseback hadn't explained much, only that her parents were at her farm, and her father, apparently a doctor, was taking care of Carl. Delilah hated to admit it, but she had to agree with Andrea that everything seemed too strange.

Dale, sitting in the driver's seat, glanced at the two women in the rearview mirror. "I understand your concern, Andrea. But we don't have many options right now. If Carl's in danger, we need to get to that farm and make sure he's alright."

Andrea folded her arms, clearly unconvinced. "I just don't like it. What if it's a trap?"

"Then we'll deal with it," Dale replied, trying to sound reassuring. "But we can't ignore the possibility that Carl needs our help. And if this farm is as safe as she says, it could be a good place for all of us."

Delilah stayed silent, stroking the puppy's fur absentmindedly. The prospect of her brother being in danger overshadowed any doubts she had about the farm. She wanted to believe that this woman was telling the truth, that her brother was getting the care he needed.

As they continued down the bumpy road, Delilah couldn't shake her anxiety. Every bump and jolt seemed to echo the turmoil in her mind. She kept replaying the events in her head, trying to piece together what had happened and how they had ended up in this situation.

Finally, the farmhouse came into view, a large, welcoming structure surrounded by fields and a few scattered outbuildings. Delilah's heart pounded in her chest as they pulled up to the main house.

"Sembra troppo bello per essere vero," commented Glenn as he walked alongside Delilah toward the porch where the woman on horseback was waiting for them on a chair.

"I agree. How have they managed to live so well for these months? How can you tell me no one has stumbled upon this paradise?" Delilah called the puppy back after it did its business, its uncoordinated steps following her closely.

Glenn laughed when the puppy reached them, looking up at its new owner with large, round eyes. "He adores you, it's incredible."

"Let's hope so, that way he won't think about running off one day."

They walked in silence along the long driveway until they reached the porch. "Did you close the gate on the road when you came in?"

"Yes," Delilah replied. "Do you have a rope or something I could use to tie the dog outside?"

She didn't want to be rude by bringing the puppy inside the house. They needed to be cautious in this unfamiliar territory. The woman, who seemed a few years older than Delilah, nodded and went inside, returning shortly with an actual collar and leash. "Thanks."

Delilah ignored the puppy's whines as she put the slightly too-large collar on it and tied it to the railing. She took its muzzle in her hands, giving it a kiss on the nose. "I'll be right back, okay? Wait here."

She didn't stay to listen to the conversation between Glenn and the woman, instead entering the house to find someone who could tell her where the rest of her family was. Anxiety gnawed at her insides, fearing it might be too late and that Carl's life had been cut too short.

But from one of the doors emerged an older man with white hair and a beard. He looked her up and down, his hands stained with blood and a rag slung over his shoulder, which he used to wipe his hands. "You must be Delilah. Your parents and brother are in that room," he said, nodding toward an open door with a soft light spilling out. "He's out of immediate danger, for now. My boy and one of your group went to get some things I need to perform surgery on Carl. The bullet shattered, and I need to remove all the fragments before they cause a hemorrhage."

Delilah felt a wave of relief wash over her, but it was tempered by the knowledge that Carl wasn't out of the woods yet. She rushed to the indicated room, her heart pounding in her chest. Inside, she found her parents, Lori and Rick, standing by Carl's side. Her brother lay unconscious, pale but breathing.

"Mom, Dad," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Lori turned and embraced her tightly. "He's stable for now, Delilah. We just have to wait for Hershel to get what he needs to finish the surgery."

Rick placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll get through this. Carl's strong."

Delilah nodded, trying to hold back her tears. She took Carl's hand, feeling the warmth of his skin, and silently vowed that they would make it through this together.

That night passed more slowly than expected, and in a somewhat selfish gesture, Delilah decided not to spend too much time in the room where Carl was resting, terrified at the thought of watching him die before her eyes.

She chose to spend the night outside on the porch, wrapped in her red leather jacket and stroking Orion's short fur as he lay beside her, quickly falling asleep. A young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, was kind enough to bring her a low glass vase with some water for the puppy.

Delilah stayed awake, staring at the wooden wall in front of her as if it could get up and run away. She didn't know what to think; by now, almost everyone had gone to sleep, and Delilah was left alone with her thoughts until the door opened, letting the woman from earlier step out.

She took a seat on the rocking chair opposite Delilah, watching her closely. Pulling her knees to her chest, Delilah rested her chin on them. "Carl had a seizure, but he's okay now," the woman said.

Delilah looked up, finally acknowledging the woman's presence. She nodded almost apathetically at the news. She wanted to react, to cry or scream, but no emotion seemed to come out of her. It was as if she had become an empty shell of emotions in just a few hours. The sensation of emptiness, as if she no longer had a heart, grew stronger with each stroke of bad luck.

"I'm Maggie, by the way."

"Delilah."

The two girls fell into silence, simply keeping each other company during that night that seemed to last forever. The silence didn't become heavy as the hours passed; instead, it became an escape from all their problems.

"Do you believe in God?" Delilah suddenly asked, not taking her eyes off Orion, making Maggie think she had imagined it. But when she looked up at her, waiting for an answer, she realized that the question had indeed come from her mouth.

Maggie thought for a moment before responding, "No, I used to, though. Before... all of this. Going to church was the norm for my family, but now? Pff, now God doesn't exist."

Delilah chuckled. "True. If God existed, I'd let myself get killed just to go up there and kick him in the ass for bringing this destruction upon the earth."

The two girls laughed. "Don't let my dad hear you; he'd have a heart attack if he heard what you just said."

"I'll keep that in mind," Delilah pretended to lock her lips shut with an imaginary key.

Maggie sighed, shivering in the cold breeze that began to blow. "Then, if I'm being honest, I believe that in this situation, we have to seek justice ourselves, not pray to God."

Delilah nodded, agreeing with the woman. She found her company pleasant, a breath of fresh air amidst the chaos they found themselves in; an absurd thought crossed her mind, she thought, but for a moment, she doubted the nonexistence of God because just the night before she had wondered if anyone else could be alive in that apocalypse.

However, if God existed, Carl wouldn't be fighting for his life.

Her attention was drawn away by the sound of an engine behind her, and even Maggie stood up, confused as to who it could be, but her expression changed drastically when she saw a blue pickup truck pull up in front of the house.

Delilah stood up, recognizing Shane's face, and a question immediately formed in her mind. Where was his companion?

Rick, Lori, and Hershel hurried out of the house, reaching the man and enveloping him in a warm embrace. But the look on Shane's face sent shivers down the girl's spine. Something wasn't right.

"Carl?" he asked, passing the backpacks she carried on her shoulders to Hershel, who hurriedly took them inside.

"There's still hope," Rick reassured him, weakened by the continuous blood transfusions. Hershel paused, as if noticing something, and turned to Shane, his expression worried. "And Otis?"

Shane shook his head, lowering his gaze. "No... he sacrificed himself. We were surrounded. He told me to run, to save Carl."

Hershel, though somewhat shocked, nodded. "Don't tell Patricia. Not yet. I need her." He went inside, closing the door behind him, leaving the group reunited. Now his main concern was to save Carl.

To say Delilah was worried in the following days would be an understatement. Since Shane’s return, the atmosphere had grown tense. The search for Sophia was still ongoing, and the constant missions into the city to scavenge for useful items like medicine kept her exceedingly busy.

Orion was an excellent companion. Despite being just a puppy, he quickly learned basic commands and, strangely, hadn’t barked even once. Delilah made a mental note to keep her dog away from Shane; the man seemed to have changed drastically in just a few days, and the looks he gave her when they were close made her feel uneasy.

She felt in danger.

Hershell had been kind enough to offer them shelter until they regained the strength to leave the farm. Carl was slowly recovering, allowing him to step outside and get some fresh air.

His reaction was priceless when he saw the puppy. "A puppy! Where did you find him? Can we keep him?"

Delilah felt a hollow pang in her stomach, seeing her little brother so enthusiastic when just days before, he had been on the brink of death, fighting between light and darkness. She smiled, patting Orion’s head. "Yes, he’s already ours, and his name is Orion."

Carl’s eyes lit up. "I knew you’d pick a good name."

Carl continued to cuddle the puppy, who was more than happy to receive all that attention. "I found him after you left. That night, I talked with Dale about your obsession with stars and the Orion constellation, so it seemed like a fitting name."

It was a recurring thought that she didn’t feel part of the group. She couldn’t find common ground with anyone except Carl, his father, and Dale. Not even with Glenn did she feel comfortable or accepted, especially now that he was following Hershell's daughter around like a lost puppy.

This made her feel like an outsider, behaving like one, and finding solace in an unexpected friendship. Beth had initially approached her with a request to see the puppy, then gathered the courage to ask for help with the chickens in the coop.

Initially, a bit taken aback, Delilah was cautious about why the girl had decided to ask her for help when, unlike the rest of her group, she hadn’t done much to contribute, barring the two times she went into town with Maggie to search for medicine. Eventually, Glenn took her place on these excursions.

Now, she and Beth spent hours in the garden or simply sitting on the porch talking. Beth was an intelligent girl, perhaps too kind and fragile for the harsh world outside the farm.

However, Beth had a major flaw—her intense pessimism.

"Don’t say that, Beth. Maybe the world has changed, but that’s no reason to stop living," Delilah reassured her, watching Carl and Orion play in the field. Beth had expressed a lack of will to live, contemplating death more than she should.

"What is there to live for, Lilah? You've seen what it’s like out there, better than I have. How can you say that death isn’t better than living now?"

The question caught her off guard; she had those thoughts herself. "Because you have people who care about you, who love you. The world is already cruel enough; there’s no need to add more burden to their shoulders, don’t you think?"

Beth shrugged, not answering her question. Delilah put an arm around her shoulders, inviting her to lean on her. Perhaps, if they stayed on this farm, everything would turn out fine; they could have a future worth living for.

However, her positive impression of the place changed drastically when, the next day, Glenn revealed to the group that dozens of walkers were hidden inside the barn. Everyone was having breakfast when he broke the news, and the entire group froze mid-motion, Delilah included, her mouth agape.

“You’re joking,” she responded incredulously, but seeing the disturbed expression on Glenn’s face, she knew it wasn’t a joke. It seemed too good to be true—a safe place, far from the world’s problems.

In no time, the group made their way to the large barn, with Orion sniffing the ground ahead of them. He stopped a few meters from the doors, standing still like a statue before returning to Delilah and sitting by her side. "Hey, what’s wrong?" she asked, kneeling to pet him. But what caught her attention were the barn doors beginning to shake.

The entire group took a few steps back. Delilah fell to the ground as the growls of the walkers and their hands clawing at the wooden doors made her pale. Deep down, she had hoped that Glenn had imagined it all—that it was a bad dream or a trick of his mind.

But in that moment, there was no doubt: the family was keeping the dead like animals.

Her thoughts raced as the group stood in shock. The reality of their situation was sinking in fast, stripping away any sense of safety they had felt. Delilah looked at Orion, who seemed to sense the danger too. She knew they couldn’t stay here any longer. This wasn’t a sanctuary—it was a ticking time bomb.

As the others began to discuss their next steps, Delilah’s mind was already made up. She needed to protect Carl and Orion. The bond she had with her brother and the silent understanding with her puppy gave her the strength to face the grim reality.

In a world turned upside down, every moment of peace was fleeting, and trust was a luxury they couldn’t afford. Delilah stood up, brushing the dirt from her clothes, and looked at the group. They needed a plan, and they needed it fast.

The third chapter on ao3 was sooo awesome!! Ricks daughter getting separated from them at the farm is such a cool idea and it’s gonna create so much conflict eventually when they meet again! Her thinking they abandoned her and everything! So so good.

I’m so curious about Rick and Delilah’s relationship, he and Carl were so close but we didn’t see much of her and Rick! It’s gonna be very interesting when we eventually get to Alexandria

Can’t wait to read more of this, really love it!

i love you anonymus! i really appreciate your support, especially since i wasn't sure about this story <3

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

No Heaven, Only Trouble

"We can’t do this!" Delilah dropped into a chair by the campfire. "As much as I find it disturbing, it's not our place, nor our decision to make."

The group fell into silence. Some agreed with the young girl, others did not. Hours had passed since they discovered the barn, and the peace they'd briefly found had vanished into thin air. Lori held Carl close, staring at the flames dancing before her eyes.

She looked up to meet her eldest daughter’s gaze, stifling a sigh when she found nothing in them. She was worried about Delilah—worried because the once vibrant teenager, full of life and promise, had lost her spark, her expression now empty and blank.

But what she hated the most was that, due to wrong choices, the mother-daughter bond was lost forever. She could no longer comfort her. Delilah pushed her away.

Carl was the only one who still seemed to love her unconditionally. Lori fought back tears, closing her eyes and resting her head on Carl's, gently stroking his back while the group resumed their heated debate.

"We’re not safe! We have to do something, or those doors will give way, and in the middle of the night, we’ll be torn apart by the dead."

Delilah’s patience was wearing thin. Lately, she felt like she was losing her mind. "Shane, does anything I say go in one ear and out the other? Damn it! We can’t just do whatever the hell we want, especially when Hershel wants us out of here as soon as possible!"

Shane turned to her, furious. "You have no right to make decisions, kid. These are adult matters! You can’t understand what’s best for the group. If we followed your idea, we'd all be dead by tomorrow morning!"

"Stop!" Dale stood up, stepping between them. "There’s no need to get worked up. We have to stay united," he sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through what little hair remained.

Shane, still furious, sat down on one of the logs. The silence that settled over the group only made Delilah more anxious. She glanced around, trying to calm herself. She knew that snapping back at Shane, especially in his current state, wouldn’t lead to anything productive, so she bit her tongue, forcing herself to think about something else.

She reached out to stroke Orion, who was sleeping next to her chair.

After a long silence, Rick stood up and headed toward the house. No one asked him what he was going to do; instead, they all remained in their places as if any movement might spell disaster.

Delilah fixated on the flames, watching their mesmerizing dance. If she concentrated hard enough, she could make out shapes moving hypnotically within the fire.

And that’s how she fell asleep—watching the figures dance in the flames, while Orion curled up on her lap, shielding her from the early November chill. The days had grown short, colder, and the group's concern was how they'd keep warm if Hershel refused to let them into the house.

"What the hell are you doing?" Delilah jolted awake, jumping out of her chair. The sudden movement sent sharp pain through her stiff muscles. The brief peace and tranquility she'd enjoyed while half-asleep vanished as the surrounding noise rushed back to her all at once.

Orion, still sounding like a puppy, began barking at the distant commotion and his owner’s sudden movement. Delilah looked around, confused, until she spotted her group rushing toward the barn in the distance, beyond the fence.

What she saw next confused her even more. "What the hell..." She shook off her drowsiness and sprinted toward the group, now gathered in front of a chilling scene that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her father was leading a walker on a leash.

She couldn't hear the conversation yet, still too far away, with Orion following closely behind her. Her heart pounded wildly as she saw Shane pull out a gun and shoot the walker her father was leading, right in the head.

Delilah froze in her tracks, watching the scene unfold before her eyes.

The cold, dry November air clung to her skin, her breath quick and shallow as she watched an old family friend open the barn doors, releasing a small herd of walkers into the open.

Shane was the first to open fire. Moments later, Andrea grabbed a rifle, and a few others followed suit, taking the same initiative to finally put down those who the Greene family had once considered part of them.

Delilah wanted to feel something—anything—when Beth’s screams pierced the air, or when she saw the blonde girl lay down beside the body she believed to be her mother, clinging to the last shred of hope that these people could somehow return to who they once were.

But what made Delilah’s breath catch wasn’t Beth’s cries or the moment the body beside her tried to bite her. It was when the entire group’s attention snapped back toward the barn doors.

She wanted to join them, to cross the fence and hear what they were saying, to better understand what was happening. She bent down to scoop up Orion when he began whimpering and trembling, holding him tightly in her arms as another wail of despair cut through the air.

This time, it was Carol who collapsed to the ground, falling to her knees, supported by Lori. The group blocked Delilah’s view, preventing her from seeing what had caused such a reaction in the woman who was already so broken by life.

But maybe it was something Delilah didn’t want to see.

The apocalypse had changed her, just as it had changed everyone. It had hardened her, made her more pessimistic, perhaps even more indifferent than she’d been before the world fell apart. Yet, when she saw the fragile figure emerge from the barn, she felt a sharp pain in her chest.

Sophia, or what remained of her, limped out of the half-open door. The once youthful, terrified face had been reduced to decaying flesh, slowly rotting away.

Delilah didn’t want to imagine what the scene looked like up close because, even from this distance, she could see how badly the young girl had deteriorated. Carol’s sobs grew louder, not stopping until Delilah’s father, after glancing around for a moment, approached Sophia and placed the barrel of his gun to the back of her head.

A single gunshot echoed across the field, startling Orion in her arms.

When Delilah saw Carol break free from Lori’s embrace and rush to her daughter’s lifeless body, she turned away, heading back to her small spot by the fire, unable to watch the heartbreaking scene of a mother grieving over her child.

Lately, Delilah’s coping mechanism seemed to be avoidance. She no longer asked questions or involved herself in conversations, especially after her last argument with Shane. As the days went by, she spoke less and less, often spending entire days in the company of Orion, and occasionally, Carl.

Carl. Delilah had noticed his change too—a preteen forced to survive in a world like this for months. What worried her wasn’t that he was in danger—she knew Carl was tough—but that he might be shutting down emotionally, just like she was.

Since Sophia's official death, Carl had become cold toward everyone. He no longer spoke to Shane and avoided his presence altogether, snapping back at Lori and acting in ways that were entirely unlike him.

Delilah had always been good at observing people, and recently, it seemed like that was all she could do. Tensions were at an all-time high since the barn incident, and she was exhausted—exhausted by the awful situation, tired of the people around her, and weary at the thought of having to find another place to stay once her father and Glenn returned with Hershel.

Yet, perhaps she wasn’t as observant as she thought, because she hadn’t noticed Shane leave, nor had she seen him return with her mother until they parked. Confused, Delilah got up from her chair and approached them.

Andrea immediately rushed to hug Lori. "Oh my God, are you okay? We were so worried!"

Delilah eyed her mother warily before stepping aside when Carl elbowed past her to run into Lori’s arms. She lifted him off the ground, holding him tightly. "Yes, I’m fine. I was in an accident."

"She was attacked," Shane corrected, standing uncomfortably close to Lori, much to Delilah’s displeasure. Lori rolled her eyes, setting Carl back on the ground before glancing around, searching for someone in the small crowd that had gathered.

"I’m fine. Really. Where’s Rick?" she asked, worry filling her voice when she didn’t see him. She looked at Andrea, then at Maggie, who had stepped out of the house to check on the situation.

Her gaze finally landed on Delilah, distant and unfocused, as if she were looking at her from far away. "Haven’t they come back yet?"

"Not yet," Delilah replied, pulling her red leather jacket tighter around herself and stifling a yawn.

Not in the mood to stand around waiting for her father and Glenn to return, Delilah turned on her heel, ready to head back to the makeshift camp. But she was stopped by the sound of her mother’s frustrated, angry voice.

"You bastard."

"Lori—"

"He’s my husband!" she shouted, shoving Shane. The small group watched, confused and on edge, ready to intervene if Shane reacted poorly.

"Lori, I’ll go look for him!" Shane’s raised voice drew out the rest of the Greene family from the house, all of them watching nervously, fearing there was some imminent danger.

What none of them seemed to realize was that the danger was already right in front of them—one of their own. Dale glanced at Delilah, then back at the escalating scene before them.

Delilah’s body flooded with rage when Shane grabbed her mother’s arm, causing Lori to wince from the force of his grip. Before she could think, Delilah launched herself at him, grabbing his arm.

"Don’t you dare touch her, you asshole!" she growled through clenched teeth, but within seconds, she found herself on the ground. The left side of her face stung sharply, like an injection, and her ear rang for a few seconds, disorienting her. It all happened so quickly that Delilah didn’t even realize what had hit her, though hearing her mother’s screams and the shock from those around her made it easy to figure out.

A metallic taste filled her mouth as a pair of hands helped her up to her knees. Her mother knelt in front of her, reaching for her face, but Delilah recoiled, a sharp pain shooting through her left side.

"Get away," Lori snarled at someone behind her daughter. Footsteps retreated from the scene. "Are you okay, honey? I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry," she whispered in Delilah’s ear, wrapping her arms around her and stroking her hair, just as she had when Delilah was little.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

In the fading light of late afternoon, the room was enveloped in a heavy, almost palpable silence. The old Dale crouched slowly toward Lori, holding a damp cloth. Her face, marked with faint scratches from the incident earlier, was fixed on Delilah, who in turn glanced at Carl standing beside her, his face tight with worry.

At twelve years old, Carl’s large, innocent eyes, which had already seen too much, betrayed a barely concealed anxiety. He kept his gaze fixed on his mother, trying to be strong as if his mere presence could ease Lori’s pain. 

“Don’t worry, Carl,” Lori murmured as Dale handed her the cloth so she could gently tend to her wounds herself. “It’s nothing serious.”

Carl nodded, but his expression remained unconvinced. He watched every move Lori made, as though fearing that even a slight touch could cause her more harm. Lori attempted to smile at him, but the tension in the air made any reassurance seem inadequate.

His eyes darted from his mother to his older sister, who sat across from him in an armchair, her expression betraying nothing. Delilah watched the scene with her arms crossed, her face flushed with the lingering anger from the earlier argument. Her irritation was not just for Lori, but for herself as well. Shane had hit her—a family friend she had once considered almost like an uncle. Her mind replayed the moment she had tried to intervene, to stop the explosive argument, and the violent response she received in return.

She had known Shane was a danger for a long time, but the fact that he had escalated to hitting her was a different matter. Shane was a ticking time bomb, and the moment when he would explode seemed closer than ever.

The silence between them was thick, and Carl couldn’t help but notice the palpable tension emanating from his older sister. He moved closer to Lori and took her hand, a simple gesture that seemed to promise his unwavering support.

Lori sighed slightly, drawing everyone’s attention. “I can’t believe Shane would do something like this,” she said finally, her voice heavy with bitterness.

“He’ll do worse,” Delilah snapped, lifting her gaze to meet her mother’s eyes. Her voice was sharp, brimming with barely contained rage. She couldn’t understand whether Lori was truly blind to Shane’s danger or too infatuated with him to see it. “He’s a threat. One of these days, he’ll do something that gets us all killed.”

Lori fell silent for a moment, her expression strained but composed. She tried to maintain a facade of calm, but the tension between them was undeniable, and Delilah could sense it. Carl, meanwhile, had not taken his eyes off his mother, his face reflecting the weight of something he didn’t fully understand.

Dale looked up from his task, his wise and weary eyes meeting Delilah’s. There was no need for words between them. Delilah knew he understood, that he shared her concerns. There was a silent understanding between them, a bond forged over time, perhaps because Dale had never been as naive as Lori seemed to be.

“Shane has his issues,” Dale said slowly, his voice calm but with a gravity that left no room for disagreement. The tone, though measured, was a warning. “But hitting someone… that’s not justifiable.”

Delilah pressed her lips together, her heart pounding. That wasn’t the point, not entirely. “It’s not just that, Dale,” she said, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions. “Shane is unstable. He always seems on the verge of… exploding. You can’t tell me you don’t see that too.”

Lori clenched her hands, trying to stay in control. “Delilah, it’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is!” Delilah interrupted, her words flowing like a flood. “Lori, you refuse to see it. You want to protect everyone, but he’s a ticking time bomb, and when he explodes… we won’t be ready.”

Carl lowered his gaze, visibly shaken by his sister’s harsh words, and Lori seemed about to respond, but it was Dale who spoke up before another argument could erupt.

Delilah’s words had clearly hurt Lori, who had realized she had lost her child the moment she called her by name.

“Delilah is right about one thing,” Dale said slowly, locking eyes with Lori. “Shane is going through a rough patch, and if we’re not careful, that rough patch could become dangerous for all of us.”

Lori closed her eyes for a moment, the weight of Dale’s and Delilah’s words pressing down on her like a stone. When she opened them again, she seemed more weary. “I won’t let him hurt anyone,” she finally said, her voice low but firm. “I’ll handle it.”

The girl couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Oh really? And how?” Delilah’s tone was sharp, biting—nothing good could come from it. “I’m not sure your approach is quite suitable right now, don’t you think?”

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the distant ticking of a clock. Dale looked down at the floor for a moment before slowly rising, as if his bones were burdened with unbearable weight. He exited the room, unwilling to participate in the family argument he had tried to avoid.

“Delilah—”

“No!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and leaping out of the chair. “No! You can’t say anything! You’re putting yourself and Carl in danger just because you can’t control yourself! None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gotten so close to him in a moment of weakness!”

Lori’s eyes filled with tears, humiliated by her daughter’s words. But the harshness didn’t stop there. “Because that’s what you are. Weak.” Delilah jabbed her finger at Lori’s chest before storming out of the room, her anger surging through her veins as she slammed the front door behind her, ignoring Orion’s cheerful greeting on the porch.

She sat on the porch steps, stroking Orion’s soft fur and shivering as she heard footsteps approaching, too familiar to ignore. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Shane stopped briefly in front of her before passing by without a word and entering the house.

She watched him go, the door closing behind him, and made herself a promise. 

If Shane wasn’t dead by the end of the weekend, she would ensure it herself. And that’s how she fell asleep, plotting the death of someone who had once been a core part of her life.

The next morning, Delilah woke up still sitting on the porch steps as a car approached and stopped a few meters away from her. It took her a moment to adjust her vision to the sunlight, but as soon as she recognized her father emerging from the car, she sprang to her feet, ignoring the slight dizziness she felt, and rushed to meet him.

Rick enveloped her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her head. "You're here," Delilah whispered against her father's chest, her voice cracking with exhaustion and emotion. For a moment, all the pain, anger, and fear seemed to dissipate. In that instant, she was simply a daughter in her father's arms, finding a safe haven in a world that seemed increasingly unstable.

Rick held her tightly, sensing the tension in her body. He was tired too, weighed down by everything that had been happening, but he tried not to show it. "Everything will be okay," he murmured in a deep, reassuring voice. "I'm back."

Delilah clung to those words, as if they could really bring order to the chaos surrounding them. But deep down, she knew Rick's return wouldn't solve everything. Not with Shane, not with the mounting tensions. Still, in that moment, it didn’t matter.

Within seconds, the sound of the engine and Rick's presence woke the rest of the group. The doors of the house flew open, and those who had been outside rushed to meet them. Lori was the first to arrive, with Carl right behind her, his face a mix of anxiousness and hope. From the porch, Dale descended with a calmer pace, but there was a look of relief in his weary eyes.

Delilah slowly detached herself from Rick's embrace and turned just in time to see Glenn stepping out of the car, visibly exhausted but relieved. He pushed back the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and gave a nod to the others, a half-smile that couldn’t completely hide his fatigue.

From the passenger seat, Hershel emerged more slowly. His gnarled hands braced against the doorframe for leverage as he climbed out with a serious but determined expression. The journey seemed to have taken its toll on him, but his confident gaze at Rick and the others spoke of his commitment to help, just as he always had.

Lori moved closer to Rick and hugged him tightly, while Carl clung to his father's jacket, seeking comfort. "You found Hershel," Lori murmured, her voice a mix of relief and concern.

Rick nodded, looking intently at his wife. "Yes, he's with us. We have a lot to discuss."

Glenn approached Delilah, giving her a light pat on the shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "Everything okay here?" he asked softly, noticing the faint bruise forming on her cheek, though his attentive gaze sought answers in the expressions of those who had stayed behind.

As Rick tried to recover from the intensity of the moment and Hershel approached slowly with Glenn by his side, a growing tension began to permeate the group. Lori, Dale, and Carl exchanged questioning glances, noting that Rick, Glenn, and Hershel seemed more worried than expected.

It was Delilah who first noticed something strange. The car trunk wasn’t completely closed, and a faint vibration was coming from inside. She moved closer, her heart pounding in her chest. As she reached for the trunk to open it fully, Glenn tried to stop her with a quick "Wait!" — but it was too late.

The trunk swung open entirely, revealing a young man inside, bound and with a dirty cloth around his mouth. His eyes were wide with terror, and he struggled weakly to free himself. Delilah took a step back in shock, and in an instant, the rest of the group gathered around the trunk, their faces a mix of disbelief and concern.

“Who the hell is this?” Dale asked, his voice rough and incredulous, his face etched with concern.

Rick stepped forward, his expression tight. “His name is Randall,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed on the young prisoner.

Lori’s voice was filled with disbelief. “Rick, what’s going on?”

Hershel spoke up, calm but with a serious tone. “He was involved in a bad incident; we had to help him… but the problem is, he’s not alone.”

Delilah stared at the young man, her heart pounding even harder. “What do you mean? Where does he come from?”

Glenn cleared his throat, searching for the right words. “He’s from a group… an armed group. We don’t know how many there are or where they are exactly, but we have reason to believe they could be dangerous.”

Carl, who had been silent until then, stepped forward, looking at Randall with wide eyes. “And what are we going to do with him?” he asked, his voice full of curiosity as he watched the young man lose consciousness.

Rick clenched his jaw. “We need to decide. We can’t just let him go without knowing if he’ll bring his group here.”

A heavy silence fell over the group. Each member looked at Randall, but also at each other, searching for answers that no one seemed ready to give.

In the living room of the house, the atmosphere was charged with tension. Everyone had gathered around the central table, except for Delilah, who stood in a corner of the room with her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the group.

Her father’s face was marked by worry, while Rick took his place at the center, his expression grave.

Randall had been locked in the cabin a short distance from the house, at a safe distance, after Hershel had to tend to a deep wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“We can’t let him go,” Rick said firmly, breaking the silence. His tone was authoritative but heavy with responsibility. “If we do, he might return to his group and lead them here. We don’t know how many there are or what they’re capable of.”

Glenn, sitting next to him, nodded. “Rick’s right. We can’t take the risk. His group could kill us all. We need to think about our safety.”

“The bar, in town,” the old man began, “we heard them talking. They seem to be a large, disorganized group. We can’t underestimate them.”

Dale clasped his hands, his face pale with anxiety. “But we can’t kill him. We can’t... become like that,” he said, his voice trembling yet resolute. He looked at Rick with intensity, as if searching for a shred of humanity in this desperate situation. “There’s always another solution.”

“What solution, Dale?” Shane interjected, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed defiantly on Rick. “There’s no time for half measures. This kid knows where the farm is. If we let him go, it’s only a matter of time before he returns with armed men. We need to do what’s necessary.”

Lori, sitting next to her husband, removed her hand from her mouth and looked at Shane in confusion. “How do you know that?”

Rick looked to Hershel, the head of the household, waiting for him to confirm what he had told them in the car. “Randall knows our family, or at least he knows Beth and where she lives. They went to school together and he’s from the area. It didn’t take him long to recognize me despite the severe blood loss.”

Delilah, in the corner of the room, followed the conversation with keen eyes, saying nothing. She was there, a silent and invisible presence, but every word echoed in her mind. She bit her lower lip, her hands pressed tightly against her chest. Shane, as always, was direct, but there was something unsettling in his manner. It wasn’t just concern for safety. It was something darker.

It was a thirst for control and power over everything and everyone.

Dale raised his hand, cutting through the argument. “Hold on a minute.” His voice was calm but laden with a wisdom that could not be ignored. “We can’t make a decision like this so quickly. We’re still human, or at least we should be. Killing this boy... it’s not justifiable. We don’t even know if his group will come looking for him.”

“We can’t afford to make mistakes,” Shane retorted, his tone growing harsher. “Dale, you’re living in the past. We’re not in that world anymore. We need to protect ourselves. We have to be realistic.”

Then T-Dog spoke up, his voice low but resolute. “Maybe we can find a remote place and leave him there. Without means to return or dangerous weapons. We give him a chance, but not enough to pose a threat.”

Rick considered those words for a moment, but Shane shook his head in disapproval. “That’s just another waste of time. He could still survive and come back with others.”

The debate continued, with voices rising, creating a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Delilah, however, remained silent, watching the chaos unfold before her. Inside, she felt a mix of fear and anger. Her heart pounded harder every time Shane spoke. There was something wrong with him, something that made her increasingly uneasy.

Eventually, Rick stood up from his chair, his decision etched on his drawn face. “We’ll decide tomorrow morning,” he said with a firm tone, looking at each of them. “Tonight, we keep him locked up. No one does anything until we’re all in agreement.”

The voices quieted, but the atmosphere in the room remained tense, as if an inexorable time bomb was ticking away.

The next day arrived with an eerie stillness. The morning air was crisp, but there was a palpable tension hanging over the house. 

No one had slept well, and each step seemed heavier than usual, laden with the weight of the decisions they had to face. The sunlight filtered hesitantly through the windows, almost reluctant to illuminate the scene that was about to unfold.

In the living room, Rick, Lori, Shane, Dale, Glenn, and Hershel had gathered again. Delilah was already there, as she had been the night before, seated in the corner and watching in silence.

She had spent the night in a state of wakefulness, her thoughts in turmoil. The idea that everything was on the verge of collapsing wouldn’t leave her mind. And damn, if her intuition wasn’t spot on.

Rick was the first to speak, his voice heavy and resolute. “We’ve all had time to think about this,” he said, looking at each face present. “We can’t ignore the risk. Randall knows our location, knows where we are. But we can’t make a decision without considering the consequences.”

Shane, who had never had much patience for long discussions, stood up abruptly, shaking his head. “We’ve already talked enough, Rick. Randall has to die. End of story. If we let him go, we’re all dead. He’s a threat, and you know it.”

Dale, as he had the day before, raised his hand to stop Shane. “Hold on, Shane. Killing a kid like this, in cold blood... we can’t do it. It would make us monsters. We need to find an alternative.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, as if each word could spark a dangerous flashpoint. Rick looked between them, trying to find a balance between their positions. But it was clear that the decision was wearing him down.

Delilah was exhausted. Exhausted by the arguments, the increasingly difficult moral choices, the people around her who seemed incapable of seeing what was really happening. It was as if no one wanted to admit that, in the end, they had all changed. Their humanity was fragile, hanging by a thread, and she no longer knew what to cling to.

She slowly stood up from her chair in the corner of the room, trying not to draw attention. No one noticed her movement. They were all too engrossed in discussing Randall, the risk he posed, and what they should do.

Delilah quietly slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her. She took a deep breath, savoring the fresh morning air. A day away from it all. She needed to escape, even if just for a few hours.

Outside, Orion was waiting for her. She petted him on the head, feeling his soft fur between her fingers. “Let’s go, buddy,” she whispered, and together they headed towards the woods surrounding the Greene farm.

The sun climbed high in the sky as Delilah walked through the forest, finally feeling some semblance of peace. The leaves crunched under her feet, and the wind rustled the trees above her. Orion ran ahead, exploring, his tongue lolling out in excitement. 

Delilah no longer thought about the tension in the house. She no longer thought about Shane, Rick, or the moral dilemma regarding Randall. She was alone, at least for a while, and that was enough.

She spent the day wandering aimlessly, following the winding trails of the woods. She sat by a stream to drink some water, watching Orion play with the stones in the water. Time seemed to stand still.

But as the sun began to set, an odd sensation crossed her skin. A sudden shiver. She looked around, noticing the forest growing darker, and with it, a sense of danger seeped into her heart.

“It’s time to go back,” Delilah whispered, her voice almost breaking the silence around her. Orion, her loyal pup, followed immediately, but there was something strange in the air. Something... wrong.

Every step she took towards the farm seemed heavier, as if the forest itself were closing in on her. The familiar sounds of the wind through the leaves had changed. There were no birds singing anymore, only the unsettling rustling of branches.

The air had grown thick, suffocating. Then she heard it: a low, guttural groan. Her blood ran cold. It was a sound she knew all too well.

She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. A walker.

Without thinking, she began to walk faster, trying to hold back the panic rising within her like a dark wave. Her steps quickened, but not fast enough.

Another groan. This time, it was closer. Too close. Orion began to growl, his hackles raised. Delilah spun around, and what she saw took her breath away: two walkers were emerging from the trees, their grotesque, twisted forms illuminated by the last rays of the dying sun.

Terror struck her like a punch to the stomach. "Run!" she screamed internally, but the voice in her head sounded too weak, smothered by horror. With Orion by her side, she started to run, but the ghastly groans of the walkers never ceased. Each step felt more arduous, more painful. The sound of the walkers dragging through the dry branches was an unshakable nightmare.

Her heart pounded so violently she feared it might burst. She leaped over tangled roots, dodged branches whipping her face, but the walkers never stopped. They were slow, yes, but relentless. Every time she looked back, they were there, getting closer. Their twisted hands reached out toward her, hungry for flesh.

When she finally glimpsed the farmhouse in the distance, relief swiftly turned to horror. Flames. She saw them even from afar, enormous and voracious. The tongues of fire enveloped the house, consuming everything.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her legs trembled. "Dad!" she cried out in desperation, but her voice was swallowed by the crackling flames. "Lori! Carl!" No response. Only the chilling sound of the fire devouring everything and the hissing wind carrying the acrid smell of ash.

Delilah ran, ignoring the pain burning her muscles and the tight knot in her chest. When she reached the yard, the scene that greeted her was worse than any nightmare.

Walkers wandered amidst the flames, stumbling like infernal shadows, grotesque and made more monstrous by the firelight. The farmhouse was devastated. There was no one. No sign of the group. Only destruction and death.

Orion barked furiously, trying to keep the walkers at bay, but Delilah couldn’t focus. The world around her was a distorted chaos. Where was her father? Where was Lori? What the hell had happened?

She searched desperately through the debris, her hands trembling as she rummaged through the charred remains. Every corner of the farmhouse was a heap of wreckage. The barns had collapsed, and the animals were gone. Smoke burned her throat; each breath felt like a fiery assault on her lungs.

But what was most suffocating of all was the silence. An eerie silence, broken only by the guttural sounds of the walkers and the relentless crackle of the flames. She was alone. Completely alone.

Orion continued to growl, but Delilah could no longer think clearly. The horror, fear, and anguish overwhelmed her. As the flames grew higher and the walkers drew nearer, she realized that this world had collapsed. There was nothing left. Nothing and no one.

She looked around with the dreadful awareness that she would die there, in that moment, if she didn't leave, but she couldn't risk abandoning her family behind. Assuming they were still alive.

She tried calling out their names again, but to no avail. Until she heard the distant rumble of an engine.

For half a second, a huge smile spread across her face, comforted by not being left behind, until she saw the camper heading in the opposite direction. She screamed at the top of her lungs, running towards the camper and waving frantically to be seen, but the white vehicle just accelerated away.

They had abandoned her.

Now, it was just her, the fire, and the encroaching darkness.

Requests!!

I do smut(🔥) angst (☁️) and fluff (💐)

Leave requests in the comments

Fandoms I write for and characters:

Marvel-

Bucky Barnes

Natasha romanoff

Wanda Maximoff

Steve rogers

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The Walking Dead-

Daryl Dixon

Rick Grimes

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Supernatural-

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Castiel

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The Vampire Diaries-

Damon Salvatore

Stefan Salvatore

Elijah mikaelson

Kol mikaelson

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The last of us-

Joel Miller

Ellie Williams

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OBX-

JJ maybank

is there anyone interested in me writing for stranger things, twd, criminal minds, or wbb?

if you send me requests i’ll love you forever