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hidtired · 28 days

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Unfortunate Timing Prologue

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #norman reedus #angst #fluff #smut

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weretheones · 1 year

Text

To The Bone

Plot: You can’t stop shivering and Daryl can’t sleep. (Season 2-3 interim)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count:  1.2k (I can't believe I wrote something this short)

A/N: it has been so cold lately, hence this small, barely proof-read fic. I hope it gives u some warmth :*

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The farm fell and winter came.

There wasn’t a moment more heartbreaking to lose your home. Where the walls that fostered generations of Greenes would’ve warmed your heart, the cold and sprawling forest took their place.

Some nights the walls of a different home kept you warm. Homes that once belonged to people you would never know, absolute strangers that were just gone; dead or lost.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

Tonight, there were no strangers whose pictures still lined the walls— because there weren’t any walls. Only the forest and a small fire. Barely embers.

“They might see.”

Rick’s voice echoed in your head frequently these days. An hour wouldn’t pass before he had another demand to make. His last, before patrolling the camp’s boarders with T-Dog and Daryl, was to keep the fire down. Since the incident with Randall’s group and the herd that ripped through the farm, you had a pretty good guess who they were; the living and the dead. A fester of fear and exhaustion lodged in the back of your throat the night you lost the farm, and it’d kept you in line with Rick’s order since.

The fire was nothing but a soft glow. Enough light to see the colour of the fallen leaves beside your head, but that was it. No warmth and certainly no comfort was found in the glowing ashes.

Your shivering had started an hour ago and despite your best efforts to curl under the scratchy blanket, the damp floor of the forest chilled you to the bone. The others had fallen asleep by now, lulled by the aches of exhaustion and the body heat of their closest family, and if you hadn’t spent an extra hour on guard duty, you were sure Lori would’ve pulled you in alongside her and Carl. But the constant worries in your mind kept you awake and alert— so your guard shifts lingered longer and longer with each night, and by the time you retreated, your ‘bed’ for the night was only yours.

Months ago, when the farmhouse had been packed with suitcases and sleeping bags, you would’ve cherished the space. That was before the empty air became cold and bitter, biting at whatever slivers of exposed skin it could find.

Now, being alone felt almost like another type of fight. A struggle to just get through the night without catching frostnip.

There were footsteps ahead of you. It took a moment too long to register it— blame the exhaustion— but when you had, your mind was awake again. Light and calculated, they avoided the crunch of crisp fallen leaves like they knew the forest floor off by heart.

Daryl.

You knew it even before your eyes peeked open. Fighting against the weight of your eyelids, you narrowly watched his shadowy frame sneak through the sleeping bodies of your people, until he moved around the fire and behind you. Your eyes shut again and you listened for the soft rustle of him laying down a blanket.

Another shiver hit and your muscles clenched.

Beyond the clatter of your teeth, a second or two passed in silence. Eventually, your shiver subsided and your body relaxed again, but your jaw was still stiff from the frigid air. You yanked the blanket up further, covering you up to your red-tipped nose, and waited for the tension to pass.

Something touched your shoulder— a hand— and your head snapped to the side. It was Daryl, crouched behind you.

“’S jus’ me,” he mumbled.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer.

In one swoop, he draped his blanket onto yours and laid down on his side beside you.

“Come ‘ere,” his voice was low. Not only quiet but soft, like he was worried it might break if he spoke any louder.

The blanket helped initially, you felt an extra layer of coziness engulf you, but when he finally moved closer...

It was almost instant, the way your body melted into his.

So tender and whole that every bit of you that had frozen from the constant death and heartbreak cracked open. It’d been months since you felt even a hint of comfort, since you’d even been touched beyond Maggie’s supportive hand at your shoulder. The way you curled into him was almost instinct; your nerves, once turned to ice, finally thawed again and felt.

Against your better wishes, your voice shuddered, “Are you sure?”

His arm snaked around you, pulling you closer by the waist.

“Can’t sleep with your teeth clatterin’ so loud.”

You huffed a breath, huddling your shaky fingers closer to your lips to catch a moment of the hot air. Even with his body heat sinking into your skin, your body was still stiff with the last effects of the chill, and you shivered once more.

He moved you— you couldn’t register where his hands touched specifically, but there were spots of heat up your arms and around your shoulders, like the touch of his skin was separated by thick gloves instead of the thin sweater you wore. You vaguely registered how cold your skin must’ve been for the sensation of his touch to be so numbed. Without any protest, nor much thought, you followed his directions, guiding you deeper into him. Even if it hadn’t been for that pesky crush of yours making you a willing listener of the man, his body heat alone was enough to convince you entirely. As long as you never had to feel that cold and disheartened again, you’d do whatever he asked. His hands stopped moving when you were facing him, forehead touching his chest and face almost completely hidden under the blanket.

Save those big, beautiful eyes that you looked up at him with.

“Thank you,” your voice was smothered under the thick fabric, but he knew what you meant from your stare alone.

He mumbled something, but you barely heard it, finding distraction in the way his chest rumbled with the effort— or the quick pound of his heart.

Daryl wasn’t particularly known as an affectionate man, hell, the stories you’d heard of his interactions with Merle sounded more like resentment than love. And for a while there, when he pulled away after Sophia, you wondered if he knew love existed beyond what his brother defined it as.

His pounding heart made sense, then. A life of inexperience didn’t give him the necessary bravado for sudden, almost intimate, contact with a person he only met a few months ago. No matter how necessary it might’ve been with the dropping temperature, holding you in his embrace seemed like an understandable source of nerves.

The feeling along your back, the slow rub of his thumb down your spine, became less fuzzy as your skin warmed up. By the time you lost your last chill, his heart slowed to a steady pace, and you could even feel the way he’d chewed his nail down to the edge through your shirt.

Thump.

When you inhaled, the air was still cold, but it was tolerable.

Thump.

His heat sunk into you, deeper with every beat of his heart.

Thump.

Daryl held you throughout his sleep. You weren’t sure how inviting your body could have been after hours of lonely shivers, but he held you closer and closer as the night passed.

Perhaps he just needed a little comfort, too.

———————————————————————————

A/N: if daryl was ooc in this... no he wasn’t <3

also-- not sure if I should put a read more on this or not bc its so short... please lmk if it was taking up too much room in the tags/on ur dash :)

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this fic. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon / reader #daryl / reader #daryl dixon x you #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #Norman Reedus #daryl dixon imagine #norman reedus imagine #twd #madi writes

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celtic-crossbow · 6 months

Text

You Would Break Your Back to Make Me Break a Smile

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria era

Warnings: Poorly written smut

Summary: A run goes sideways, leaving you and Daryl to spend the night together in a remote cabin. Nothing new until feelings are thrown into the equation.

A/N: This was originally written for my old OC. It also explored asexual Daryl and there are still elements of that here.

You pulled the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth, concentrating on keeping your arm still. The urge to overthrow your opponent was strong, but you had to play fair. Cheating was not an option. It wasn’t until you were mercilessly pinned for the fifth time in a row that you considered cheating may actually be an option after all.

“Ugh!” You groaned quietly, struggling to free yourself.

“You’re the one wanted to play,” came the gravelly response.

You conjured an unimpressed scowl. “Again.” When he didn’t immediately move to oblige, you raised your brows, angled your head for a better view, and elbowed him. “Come on. Again.” A heavy sigh resounded, but he finally raised his arm and clasped your waiting hand, blue eyes avoiding your overconfident grin. Shaking out your shoulder in preparation, you blew upwards to rid your face of an unruly strand of hair and recited “one, two, three, four; I declare a thumb war!”

After three more failed attempts, you finally gave up but not without a massive pout and another jab at his ribs. You flipped unceremoniously onto your back, the point of his elbow resting just above the top of your head. Whether due to chivalry or something else, he had offered to sleep on the floor, but you weren't having that. The full bed was plenty big enough for both of you. It wouldn’t be the first time you had shared a bed. “Your thumbs are longer than mine.”

Daryl scoffed. “Right.” He drawled, the hand he had been using joining the other behind his head. He stared at the ceiling as the last rays of daylight began to crawl away from the looming shadows of the night. It was only a matter of time before he’d hear the familiar growls and moans and the ever unsettling bump of undead bodies against the outer walls.

“Wanna play Never Have I Ever?”

Your voice drew him from his thoughts with barely a start. “D’rather not.” You didn’t know. You didn’t need to know.

You let out a sigh. “We don’t have any liquor anyway.” A pause. “Truth or dare?”

“S’with ya?” He asked, regarding you from the corner of his eye. You didn’t answer right away; only wiggled around until your hip was pressed tightly against his own. He wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t flinched at the contact and continued to watch you.

“Nothing, silly.” You replied quietly. The need to be near silent when outside the protective walls of your home was imperative. It was also something the spitfire at his side struggled with even when that need was near dire.

Daryl narrowed his eyes but said nothing else. You had been around him long enough for him to catch the dismissive undertone. The run had gone smoothly for the most part: few walkers, a myriad of medical supplies and canned foods to fill your packs and a couple of milk crates, and even a few stale candy bars you had snagged for a treat on the ride back. It was the living, breathing trio that had been in the middle of stealing the car when the two of you had exited that became the problem. Shots were fired, drawing more of the undead. A bolt had taken down one adversary, the other two making off with the rusted Buick that was meant to be your way home.

So, you had set out on foot. The supplies sorted and consolidated to fit in your packs and one crate, Daryl had insisted you carry it so he could keep his crossbow at the ready. No more than a dozen walkers were tailing you, but they had been easy enough to either lose or dispatch once you had found the simple cabin that would be your shelter for the night.

Yes, you had lost the car and had the grueling trek that would take at least most of tomorrow’s daylight hours before reaching that familiar gate, but neither of you were injured, you had food, and you were relatively safe for the night. So, what was bothering you?

“Hey, Daryl?”

Maybe he was about to find out.

“Hmm?” He had finally allowed his gaze to settle back on the ceiling only to have it find you once again. You were staring upward intently, a small crease between your brows. That ceiling must have been extremely interesting, the way you both seemed to get lost in it.

“Have you—ever been in love?” There was a hesitance, a shyness to your question that was evident yet unplanned, as you closed your eyes and your face twisted while a silent curse fell from your curled lips. ‘Nice job, idiot!’ You didn’t watch his reaction, positive that the question had caught him off guard. He didn’t move or make a sound, which had your stomach twisting into knots. This was not how you had wanted this conversation to start; not even close to what you had rehearsed over and over in your head since the prison. “I mean—have you—did you ever—that is to say—”

“No.” It was a simple but honest answer. Daryl had never found time for it; never found he wanted to make time for it. Sure, he had experience with women, thanks to his brother, copious amounts of liquor, and a few twenties scattered over the years of his youth, but no relationships of which to speak. He just was never a sexual being, lacking any desire and overwhelmed by peer pressure and pent up emotion. It was never about connection. He had never let anyone that close.

“Oh.” You weren't sure what answer you had expected. You thought maybe he would berate you for thinking he cared for such girlish notions. Perhaps he would laugh at you; tell you he had been a player like Merle. Instead, he had answered and was now staring at you from behind the fringe of hair that always found its way over his eyes. You managed a glance at him before you lifted one side of your jacket to study the zipper. “What about Carol?”

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “S’not like that with me an’ her.”

“Oh.” You repeated.

“Why?” He countered. And god, he was still looking at you.

You cleared your throat and turned onto your side to face him. Still, your eyes found everything in the room except his gaze. “Do you think it exists?” You avoided his question. Daryl watched you prop yourself up on your elbow, your dainty fingers reaching for the hem of his jacket. “Like—like there's someone out there for everyone?” You fiddled with a loose thread and glanced up at him from under your long, dark lashes. His handsome face held a mixture of exasperation and confusion. You would have giggled at his plight had your nerves not been twisting around like live wires in your gut.

Daryl Dixon was your best friend, a title he earned back when your little family was still new—even if you both would have vehemently denied it. He had appointed himself your protector, your instructor. He endured you at your worst, still managing to teach you how to protect yourself; how to survive. You had thrown actual weapons at his head while spouting insults that he didn’t even understand. Daryl had had no problem retaliating, using any and all information he had known of you to produce digs that would make your blood boil or your eyes grow wet. Actual friendship came later and more naturally than he’d probably ever care to admit. Daryl would actually request you to accompany him on runs, trusting you enough to have his back. Your once venomous verbal attacks had softened into banter accompanied by elbow jabs and hair ruffles. You began to enjoy each other's company.

Eventually, the brush of his fingertips over your bicep as he steered you out of harm’s way had begun to send electric pulses into your skin, kickstarting a thumping of your heart that was so loud in your ears, it would drown out the pandemonium around you. Your name from his lips would send shivers up your spine. The times you had bunked together, you found yourself stealing glances at him while he slept, kept watch, ate, worked on his crossbow. Everything he did was like seeing a unicorn. You were fascinated by him, in awe of this man who seemed to be born and molded for the end of the world. More often than not, he slept next to you, offering his warmth against the winter chill or his presence against the demons that knocked in your nightmares. He held you while you mourned those you had lost. Daryl was quite easily your favorite person. That, and more. And that is what scared you.

“Dunno.” The archer gave a halfhearted shrug. He couldn’t claim to have never thought about what it would be like settling down with someone; having a family. Settling with you, if he was being honest. Images often invited themselves into the forefront of his mind. You wearing his ring while you chopped vegetables for a stew you were making with Carol. You would bring him a beer and perch yourself on his lap while he had a cigarette on the front porch swing of the home you shared. You’d even steal the smoke right from his lips and take a long draw before offering it back. He’d seen your belly swollen and prominent under your sundress while you hung laundry on the line in the backyard. You cradled a tiny baby in the crook of your arm, leaning so that your family could see the infant’s face. He banished the visions with a minute shake of his head, sitting up and angling to the side so he could regard you properly. “S’this ‘bout, woman?”

Your mouth opened before snapping shut again with an audible click of your teeth. ‘Don’t chicken out now!’ Daryl’s expression was unreadable, and that alone was terrifying. All the time you had spent together, you were sure you had become fluent in Daryl Dixon. “I—” You sat up quickly, matching his position, not so much to face him but because you had needed to move before the words that were swelling in your throat came spilling out in the wrong order and ruined everything.

“Ya alright?” Daryl ducked his head to seek out your gaze, his curiosity getting the better of him. It was a strange conversation. He bit back the urge to ask if it was ‘that time of the month.’ Once upon a time, Carol had explained to him why that was frowned upon. “S’really on your mind?”

Was he imagining things or was the distance between you dissipating?

“It’s just—” You were chewing on your bottom lip, pulling your knees underneath you and then you were right in front of him, lowering to sit on your hip. His brow knitted, Daryl resisted the urge to move, holding his gaze on your face. He could feel your breath mingling with his own now, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to those shimmering irises. Peripherally, he could see your hands on either side of his face, hovering scant inches away.

“Is—is this okay?” You whispered.

Daryl didn’t answer, not right away. He was too busy trying to control the overbearing thudding behind his ribs. His breathing had picked up, and he was certain he may hyperventilate right there on the spot. ‘Too close. Too close.’ Someway, somehow, he still found himself nodding.

“Okay.” You breathed against his mouth, your lips tickling his own before meeting them in a gentle press. Your eyes fluttered closed while his widened and stared off into nothing, as if he could see right through you. Your hands finally rested against the sides of his face, your thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones. It wasn’t until your lips parted slightly that the archer snapped out of his stupor and reciprocated, placing his left hand over your right on his face while your mouths moved, slow and deliberate.

When you pulled back, just far enough to see his expression, his eyes slowly opened (when had he closed them?). You stayed that way for several heartbeats, searching one another. Your hands were still on his face, his larger fingers slowly curling around yours before he moved both to the sliver of mattress that remained between you.

Unfamiliar emotions swirling in his chest were making it difficult to breathe, constricting and contracting around his heart like a pulsating vice. A war was raging within him and there you were, patient and grounding while you waited for him to work through his inner turmoil. Your pretty eyes lowered as if you knew he couldn’t think while trapped under the weight of your gaze.

“Look, Daryl—”

“Don’t.”

You looked at him then. He was staring at your still joined hands between you, his thumb gently rubbing over your knuckles. His eyes were narrowed, a crease between his brows. He looked vaguely uncomfortable and you wanted nothing more than to reach out but something told you he wouldn’t dare let go of your hand at that moment. Several more beats of silence passed and he still hadn’t spoken another word.

You licked your suddenly dry lips, feeling an odd sense of panic. Was it time to defuse the situation? “We don’t have to talk about this.” You offered, keeping still when you felt his hand tighten around yours. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Do it again.”

“What?” It was your turn to knit your brows.

He still didn’t look at you but he angled his head back toward you. “Again. What ya did.”

“Kiss you?”

He gave a curt nod.

You hesitated. “Okay.” You lifted the hand he wasn’t holding to cup his cheek, slotting your mouth over his. He returned the kiss immediately this time, just as gently as before. Just as you thought of pulling back, his free hand came up to cradle the back of your head. Your eyes flew open for but a mere heartbeat before fluttering closed. You melted into the moment, only then noticing the enticing roughness of his chapped lips; the tickle of his scruffy facial hair against your skin. It was quite possibly the most tender kiss you had ever received. No clashing of tongues and teeth; only simple and soft movements of your mouths. You could easily become addicted.

He pulled back first this time, but his hand remained in your hair. Daryl tipped his head forward to touch your foreheads together. “Y/N.” He whispered, not really sure why. He just needed to say your name. The archer wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He knew how much he adored you, needed you in his life but this was too much. He felt like a raw, exposed nerve and wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go from here.

You pulled away then and Daryl’s head snapped up to watch you. You sat up on your knees and peeled your jacket from your shoulders before tossing it onto the floor. He all but gulped, sure of where this was headed when you reached for his own jacket.

Pushing one shoulder free, you moved to the next and risked a glance at his bicep, the muscles flexing rhythmically under his skin when he lifted his arm to toss the wadded-up leather over your head. Your pulse accelerated and you took a calming breath before reaching for his vest. “You can tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” You popped the first button free and then the next, flicking your gaze up to his but he was watching the nimble movements of your fingers. “Daryl.” He looked up immediately. “All you have to do is say the word.”

After a moment, he nodded almost imperceptibly. He watched you spread open his vest and push it from his shoulders. He shrugged it off so you could toss it over with your jacket. You sat back on your heels and grabbed the hem of your shirt, pausing for a moment to give him time to interject. When he said nothing, you pulled the garment over your head. With calculated movements, you reached for the front of his dark gray button-up, once again pausing. Daryl couldn’t bring himself to stop you. When the last button was free, you slipped your fingers under the fabric to part it. It was then that the archer felt panic bubble up into this throat, his eyes going wide. He grabbed your wrist so quickly that he hadn’t been aware of the action until he heard your gasp. “Wait—”

You stared at him, briefly alarmed before your eyes softened in understanding. The hand he wasn’t holding gently cradled his cheek. “I’ve seen them before.”

He knew that. You had tended to so many wounds during your time together, but insecurity ensured that he acknowledged the cursed existence of the mars on his flesh. With a deep breath through his nose, his hands replaced yours to slowly rid himself of the shirt, the fringed edges of the cut-off sleeves tickling his skin. You grabbed it up and twisted your body to add the garment to the ever-growing pile. Your breath caught in your throat as his calloused fingertips brushed your skin. With a quick glance, you smiled softly at the bare curiosity in his gaze. You turned almost fully away from him while unsnapping the clasp of your bra, letting it slide down your arms and to the floor with a quiet sound.

You looked over your shoulder, your head lowered so that only your eyes were visible. He could see the slight squint of your sparkling orbs. You were smiling at him and his heartrate quickened at the thought of seeing the expression clearly. He remained oblivious of his own expression and the fact that his rare grin and the soft whispers of his fingertips were solely responsible for the way you were looking at him.

You turned then, returning to your knees, giving him a clear view of your smile—and your naked torso. Daryl felt the heat rise in his face and travel all the way to the tips of his ears. He’d seen a naked woman before but never so calmly; so intimately.

You noticed his discomfort and tilted your head thoughtfully. “It’s okay to touch me, Daryl.” Your voice was quiet and soft, like you weren't sure if he’d follow through with the gentle command.

And he didn’t.

The archer determinedly kept his eyes on your face. It was cute but you’d never tell him so. You moved closer, the air between you scarce enough to take Daryl’s breath. Your lips ghosted over his while your fingers trekked a featherlight path down his arm before settling on his hand. You wrapped your hand around his and lifted it to place his palm on your left breast, keeping your fingers secure enough to ground him.

“I want this.” You whispered against his mouth. You felt his fingers twitch before his thumb swept slowly over your nipple. You drew in a sharp breath and closed your eyes. Your skin felt chilled at the sudden loss of his touch when he quickly retracted his hand. Your eyes reopened to find his flickering back and forth between your gaze and your chest.

The sudden press of his mouth on yours had you gasping again before you settled, bringing both hands to his shoulders. His fingers danced over your skin again, his other hand joining the first to stimulate both pebbled buds with gentle twists. How many nights had you dreamed of him touching you like this?

You hesitantly swept your tongue over his bottom lip before withdrawing, testing his reaction. You didn’t want to push him past his comfort level; no matter how badly you wanted him. When his mouth opened and you felt him lick against the crease of your lips, it was over. Your hands moved to his hair, fingers tangling in the greasy strands to pull him closer while you drank in the smoky taste of him. Daryl seemed to be finding a tentative level of confidence, twisting to bring one leg onto the bed, bent at the knee. His rough hands left your chest to slide down your sides, fingers hooking into your belt loops and using them to pull you closer. You let out a squeak which the archer eagerly swallowed before you broke apart, both panting. Your foreheads rested together, Daryl’s eyes closed while you scrutinized him for any sign that he may not want to venture further.

“Daryl?”

“Will ya take these off?” He questioned hoarsely with a small tug on the loops of your pants. You answered with a nod, pulling his hands away so you could back off the mattress and stand. Daryl watched you intently, your slender fingers popping open the button before sliding down the zipper. When you had shimmied the pants down to mid-calf, you bent to undo the laces of your boots, toeing them off along with your socks. The archer couldn’t help but smirk when you straightened. Of course you weren’t wearing underwear.

“I’ve shown you mine. Will you show me yours?” You purred, crawling back onto the bed.

Daryl scoffed and put his hand on your face while he stood, giving you a playful shove. You laughed quietly, but still reached for his belt. He tried to take a step back and you quickly released him.

“Do you want to stop?”

He was wearing that expression again, uncertainty warring with desire. He wanted you. God, did he want you in every way he could possibly have you. The heat that had begun to pool low in his belly was not unfamiliar yet unnerving. This would change everything. You could never go back to what you already had. And would you understand him? Would you accept him for all that he was?

And for all that he wasn’t?

“No.” Goddamnit, he wanted to try. He stepped forward again but you didn’t reach for him. “S’just—” he hesitated, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. This beautiful creature was sitting bare and you wanted him, of all people. What if he couldn’t be what you wanted? “Don’t usually care ‘bout this kinda shit.” He thought for a moment that he very well might vomit. You were sitting on your heels now, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. You looked like you were working out some complicated math problem in your head. Daryl barely suppressed his flinch when it was obvious you’d reached a conclusion.

“Sex.” You stated matter-of-factly at the same time the first sound of a walker clumsily stumbling into the side of the cabin brought both your gazes to the door. You could barely see one another now, day having given way to night several moments ago and your one candle giving the place a gentle orange hue that neither of you sought to complain about when it was dancing across the skin of the other. There were no windows but the archer wondered if the light could be seen through the cracks in the old door, barricaded as it was.

When the snarls and shuffling continued to pass you by, you looked to him again. Daryl was looking at the floor, any expression hidden behind the curtain of his hair. You remained quiet. He had heard you, so you would wait him out. Pushing would only make him withdraw. You sat back on your hip and pulled the dusty blanket up to cover yourself for the time being. If sex really did make him uncomfortable, having a conversation about it with your goodies saluting him from the bed would not help matters.

“Yeah.” Daryl finally spoke after a few more moments. “S’not just—” he paused to shift his weight from one foot to the other, “just ain’t never been important ‘less Merle was chasin’ some tail. A distraction’s all it were.” He sighed, crossing his arms with his hands in his armpits. He looked so uncomfortable that it made your heart ache.

You nodded, not even sure if he was looking at you. “When was the last—”

“‘Fore the world went to shit.”

A while then. You chewed the inside of your cheek. You suddenly felt too exposed, pulling the blanket up further. Where do you go from here? With another glance at him, there was another sharp twinge in your chest. For a man made for the end of the world, he appeared incredibly small and vulnerable right now. “Will you come sit down?”

From the way he angled his head, you could tell he looked at you. A heartbeat passed and he dropped his arms, his footfalls near silent as he approached the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight and you found he chose to sit surprisingly close to you. Your knees were barely pressed against his hip.

You were still utterly naked under that old blanket; your heartrate had picked up speed at his proximity. You couldn’t tell if you were anxious or aroused and you wondered if you should get dressed and deal with the latter on your own once you returned home instead of pressing him further. “Do you want to keep talking about this?” You gently probed.

“Not really,” was his immediate response. Your mouth opened to comfort him but he cut you off. “Guess we have to, though.”

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Nah, s’okay. D’rather talk to you ‘bout it than anyone else.”

You smiled softly and felt confident enough to reach for his hand. Your movement brought his head to turn toward you and he didn’t flinch away when your fingertips brushed his. After a moment, your tongue darted out to wet your lips and you took a breath. “Since the end, have you ever, you know? With yourself?”

He seemed to deflate, the shake of his head so minute that you would have missed it had you not been so keenly observing him.

“Do you ever have the urge to?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Somethin’s wrong with me.”

“Daryl.” He looked up at you, blue eyes piercing through his dark hair. It hit you like a freight train. “There is nothing wrong with you.” You could only imagine how he must have felt around his brother. How isolated, how different. You wondered if he had ever told his brother, but decided against asking. “A lot of people just aren’t that into sex, old world and new one.” His steady gaze never wavered. You smiled and let go of his hand to brush his hair away from his left eye before wrapping your fingers around his once again. “You’re just Daryl. And that’s more than okay.”

“Huh.” He muttered after a moment, eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“If it’s okay to ask though,” you ventured. Your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, you squeezed his hand, “how were you feeling just now? With me?” You added with a shaky breath. He didn’t retreat, so that was good. You still didn’t want to push him into anything he didn’t want, but rather help him figure out what it was he did want; sort through his feelings. If he turned you down, you would be disappointed, of course. But his comfort, his safety, and well-being; those came first. If you could never have him in that way, you would live with that.

“I, uh—it weren’t a bad feelin’.”

So it was a good feeling? Maybe? Shit. Now what? “Okay, okay.” you nodded. “Do you want to call it a night then and just—”

“No.”

His hand squeezed yours so fast that you nearly squeaked in surprise. You did, however, let go of the blanket you held against your chest with the other hand. “Sorry,” you mumbled, pulling the fabric up once again before Daryl grabbed your wrist. You watched him chew on his lip, his eyes overflowing with something you had never seen there before.

“Wanna try. I‘ve wanted to try with ya for a long time.” His Adam’s Apple bobbed while he swallowed around the words. “If ya ain’t changed your mind.” The statement came out more like a question, his voice quieter with a slight tremble.

‘ve wanted ta try with ya fer a long time.

You felt the swirling motion of butterflies in your stomach, your heartrate skyrocketing as you allowed the blanket to fall. Moving slowly, you twisted your wrist in his grip to clasp his hand and pressed forward to throw a leg over his lap. Sitting on his thighs, you gently took hold of both his hands and placed them on the curve of your hips. “We’ll take this slow, okay?” You reached to push back his hair so his eyes were visible. He gave a jerky nod, fingers twitching against your skin.

“Alright.”

You cupped his face and brought your mouths together once again. This time, there was no hesitance when you opened up to him and beckoned his tongue. The gentle push and pull of the kiss lasted until the need for air became dire, and Daryl pulled away from you only to ghost open-mouthed whispers across your jaw and down to your pulse. Your fingers moved to his hair again and your head fell back, offering the expanse of your throat to him. He nipped and lapped at the flesh between your ear and the junction of your shoulder, earning a breathy moan when he latched on to tattoo a kiss onto the surface. The archer couldn’t help but shiver and moved his hands to splay them open across your spine, tipping you so his mouth could properly explore the valley between your breasts.

His tongue and lips wandered aimlessly, and he found himself perfectly content in connecting the myriad of freckles that were littered across there. He found all of them adorable, especially the ones that traveled around the rims of your ears. Maybe he’d tell you that one day soon. Like this, he could almost forget the anxiety attempting to claw its way through his ribcage and get lost in warmth of your skin beneath his lips and at the mercy of his tongue. He moved slowly, probably too slowly but eh, he was rusty. He barely remembered any of the other experiences and, truthfully, he didn’t care to in the least. He would be more than fine pretending they had never happened.

“Daryl.”

He shivered at the sound of his name falling from those lips. The same ones that were parted and panting while fingers twisted in his hair, urging him onward. He kissed across the swell of your right breast, tongue teasing a circle around the nipple before he pulled it between his teeth and bit down. The sound you made was intoxicating and he was plenty willing to elicit more of the same from you just before he felt your hips press down and grind against him, successfully making him see stars and release his hold on you in favor of hissing between his teeth.

Feeling him go rigid, you sat up straight, breathing heavily. “What’s wrong?” You panted, tucking his hair behind his ears while searching his face for answers. “Are you okay?”

Daryl blinked a few times before finally realizing you were talking to him in close proximity. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, m’fine.”

You narrowed your eyes. He was still completely tense, his fingers digging into your back with enough force to bruise. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. S’just—”

“Just what?” You watched him closely. So far, he’d yet to move but then his hands were sliding down your back to firmly grasp your hips and— “Oh. Oh!” Sudden understanding rang clear when proof of his desire for you could be felt through the fabric of his trousers. Your brain warred between smugness and sympathy. You had made him feel that way but it had been so long that it had taken him by surprise. “What do you want to do from here?” Whisking away a section of hair that had fallen back into his face, you otherwise remained still.

“Get up.” He stated hoarsely. It came out a little rougher than he’d meant, but you’d obeyed so he wouldn’t linger on it.

You sat in the center of the bed and watched him stand. You were grateful for what little you had done, for the things he had shared with you. If this was how he chose to end the scenario, you would smile and support him fully. There could be a next time. He was obviously attracted to you. This was enough. Whatever he felt comfortable giving you was enough.

Crawling to the top of the old bed, you pulled down the covers on the other side before reaching for your discarded clothing. You stopped less than halfway through the motion when you heard the zipper of his pants. Looking back to him, you found him toeing off his boots while his undone trousers remained on his hips. For the moment.

“Daryl?”

“C’mere.” He beckoned you with a finger, curling it under your chin as you crawled closer. The archer bent to meet you halfway and captured your lips in a desperate embrace, pushing down his trousers and stepping out of them. The kiss continued even as he struggled to remove one sock at a time, balancing on one leg and causing you to giggle against his mouth. “Shuddup.” He retorted with no real heat. Finally both hands came to cradle your face and gently pull your back.

“You okay?” You slurred, eyes dark and lips swollen.

“Yeah.” Daryl tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to catch his breath as he took a moment to just drink you in. “S’not gonna be—”

“I don’t care.” Careful to keep your eyes on his face, you guided him to sit with his back against the headboard, throwing a leg across his lap to hover over him. It would be over quickly. That was a given. But that wasn't the point. “I want whatever you’ll give me, Dixon.” You kissed him gently. “I just want you.”

“Yeah?” The corners of his mouth twitched up into a ghost of a smile. “Ya got me, woman.”

You both groaned as you lowered onto him, Daryl’s face twisting into such a grimace of barely contained pleasure that you were surprised it wasn’t already over for him. “You good?” Your voice sounded small and breathless even to your own ears, but Daryl’s didn’t seem to be working at all. He gave a jerky nod and pulled you toward him, your foreheads meeting as you both breathed through the new feeling. “Let’s just—stay like this for now, yeah?” Another barely there nod, bumping your heads together.

Your eyes drifted toward the wall when a walker stumbled into the building. Daryl flinched but didn’t move. It was hard to ignore a threat that close but as long as you remained quiet, that wall would remain between you and the undead shambling along outside.

Another tender kiss to his lips before you trailed along his jaw, feeling him exhale shakily against your neck. You allowed your mouth to roam further, your tongue dipping out to taste the salt of his skin over his pulse. You could feel it racing away there, almost vibrating. His fingers flexed on your hips, his breaths now coming in shallow pants. There was a slight tremble to his frame making it clear you couldn’t remain this way much longer lest he combust. You pulled away, cupping his face for your thumbs to gently rub over his cheekbones. You didn’t need to say anything. He nodded in spite of the silence.

Your breath caught in your throat when you moved, releasing as a low moan as your eyes fluttered closed. He felt sublime. Judging by the choked off noise that came from Daryl, he was feeling exactly the same about you. You kept your movements slow and deliberate. Soon enough, he was rocking up to meet you.

“You, I—” He was gritting his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead and running down to his chin to drip onto his chest. Still rocking, you placed your finger over his lips and then replaced it with your own.

“I know. It’s okay.” You whispered. He pushed back on your hips, moving you off of him. You wrapped your fingers around him, pumping in slow, languid strokes. There was a mere heartbeat before he gathered you against him with your arm trapped between you, every muscle and tendon frozen hard in blissful agony with a breathy moan of your name against your shoulder. Oh, how you wished you could see his face as he came undone. His warmth flooded over your hand and onto both your stomach and his, his hold unyielding even as his body twitched and shook while you gently coaxed him down from his high with hushed reassurances and tender kisses against his neck. When the spasms stopped and his hold loosened, you gave him a few moments of just resting against you to catch his breath while your fingers carded idly through his hair.

“How're you doing, Dixon?” You broke the silence with a calm whisper, slightly leaning away to encourage him to move. Daryl carefully laid back against the headboard, eyes still closed and looking more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. “Hey.”

His tired blue eyes slowly opened, blinking lazily before settling on you. “Hey.” When he brought up a hand to graze his knuckles over your cheek, it seemed to be too heavy for him to hold long. His arm fell back to the bed a moment later. “M’sorry.” He mumbled, a furious blush deepening the color of his already flushed face.

“For?”

He scoffed. “Obvious, ain’t it?”

“It was perfect.” When he grunted in response, you laughed quietly. You smiled, kissed his cheek, then you crawled off of him. Before he could even focus on the mess left behind, you had returned with a packet of WetWipes from your pack. They were expired and not very damp but got the job done.

It was hard not to focus on your touch while you worked, so he opted to reach for a strand of your hair, curling it around his finger tightly. You carried on cleaning both of you up like it was just a natural thing, Daryl’s face reddening once again when you went about wiping him down like you had seen him naked a hundred times.

He leaned toward you to reach for your shoulder, sliding his fingertips over your warm skin. You grasped his hand to press a gentle but chaste kiss to his palm before standing to retrieve your clothes. You were smiling when you turned back.

You were pulling your shirt down over your head as Daryl fastened his belt and sat down on the mattress to lace up his boots. Sleeping naked was not an option when beyond the walls of your home unless you didn’t mind leaving those things behind and showing up at the gates in the nude.

Opting to leave your jacket on the floor, you crawled up to the pillow and laid down. Daryl did the final checks to make sure everything was secure and then returned to sit against the headboard, clearly offering to take first watch. For a man that had just experienced his first orgasm in years, he sure was tense.

“Why don’t I take first?” You offered. You climbed up to mimic his position. Daryl looked like he might argue but soon nodded and moved down the bed putting his left arm behind his head.

Finding just a smidge of courage, you reached over to toy with a long strand of his hair. “So.”

“So?” He titled his head back a little to look up at you.

“That a—one time thing?”

The archer lowered his head again, looking back to the ceiling directly above him. “Did ya want it to be?”

“Nope.”

“Then it weren’t.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Do it again in the mornin’?”

“Absolutely.”

648 notes · View notes

gutsby · 6 months

Text

Honey Trap

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v, breeding kink, some wildly unethical investigative techniques, graphic descriptions of violence and gore. Feral Daryl gone wild (and primal), courtesy of this lovely request.

“In espionage terminology, honeypot and honey trap are terms for an operational practice involving the use of a covert agent, to create a sexual or romantic relationship to compromise a target.”

In your mind, the sex was incidental to the mission.

You didn’t have to feel guilty about fucking the man’s brains out if you never meant to do it in the first place.

That was what you kept telling yourself as he shoved your face into the mattress and continued to pound you senseless. When he yanked your head back and nearly dislodged the hair at the roots with the force of each thrust, leaned in close to your ear and smirked.

“Keep grippin’ like tha’ and I’ll put a fuckin’ baby in ya.”

An honest mistake.

He flipped you onto your back and all but devoured your lips, rutting his hips so hard you thought he might displace your cervix as well. Every inch of your taut, aching walls drew him in and clenched him like a vice. You kissed him back, goaded him on, bounced an obscene cadence over his cock, and almost felt the first inklings of fatigue strain your muscles when he dropped his hand to your clit and started rubbing circles.

“Ah, fuck!” you cried, “Just like that, Daryl.”

An innocent slip of the tongue, really.

The longer these gut-wrenching blows and digital strokes continued, the closer you got to the cusp of your release. Were Daryl possessed of even a modicum of civility, you suspected he might have treated your cunt a little kinder, but frankly, the man was all animal in bed. He was a primal being, so cruelly in tune with his baser nature that every time he fucked you raw it was all tongues, teeth, and trembling lips whispering the filthiest, most repugnant things you’d heard in your life. He’d said it had something to do with him being a hunter by trade; you were never quite convinced of it, but you let him breed you like a rabbit all the same.

Presently, Daryl peered down at you with the haziest, most fucked-out look you’d ever seen grace a man’s features. He’d pushed one of your legs straight up to your chest. Two or three thrusts was all either of you had in you from that point on; with the introduction of this new angle, and that added pressure, you both went spiraling toward climax in a matter of seconds.

You threw your head back on the pillow while Daryl tore out of you, wringing his cock over your stomach until every last drop of him had painted that plane of skin.

You melted into the bed. Daryl sopped up the remains of his arousal with a washcloth, brushed a couple fingertips across your belly, and kissed your navel with affection. Then he collapsed to your left for a spell of silence.

A couple minutes later, as if on cue, you both rose from the bed and started dressing yourselves.

You felt no shame in being the first to light up this time. Tugging the pack of Pall Malls from your back pocket, you stepped outside and went fishing for your lighter.

Your eyes captured the dawn of the fresh day rising low on the outskirts of the field, and you smiled. Stuck one muddied cigarette between your teeth and lowered it to the flame you’d brought to life in the other hand. Then you took a seat on the front stoop, stretched your legs out as far as they would go, and watched the morning take shape before you. You took a contented drag.

Operator would have your head if he could see you now.

This was, without a shadow of a doubt, not part of the plan. The fraternizing, frolicking, even semi-regular fucking of your test subject strayed so far beyond the bounds of this mission, and your own ethical norms, that you’d almost forgotten what you were meant to be doing on that brisk November day.

Operator hadn’t forgotten; his aides had assembled the decoy last night. Half a mile from the comfort and calm of your little log cabin, there lay a steel-jaw bear trap nestled under a pile of bright red leaves—‘Real, real red, remember that, honey’—and above it, a target. A leaf a little larger than the rest would be arranged at the top of the mound with a circle drawn on its front, signaling for someone to step there and ensnare their foot.

That was the crux of his plan. Easy as pie.

The rest of this project, by contrast, had taken months of dedicated reconnaissance on your part—tracking and trailing behind this guy, your target, Daryl Dixon. You’d been charged with monitoring the man’s every move with painstaking attention and studying his habits, too. Was he a creature of the night or awake first thing in the morning? Was he rash, wise, or flighty, demonstrably equipped to handle life’s ugliest challenges or liable to run at the first sign of trouble? Most importantly, was he a threat to your community back home or a viable asset? That was what Operator wanted to know.

That was what you had set out to find.

The sex was just an unintended byproduct of that pursuit. Hazard of the job, you kept reminding yourself. You hadn’t lost sight of Operator’s goal at all; you’d simply been obliged to take a different route to get there.

As it turned out, Daryl had caught you in the woods just a few short weeks into your covert surveillance scheme, so you’d been forced to improvise.

Stripped of your anonymity and afraid of raising suspicion in the target, you’d tried striking up a friendship with him. It was Daryl that had been the one to tamper with the platonic seal of that liaison. On one particular occasion that found you tracking the same animal, he’d taken you by surprise and knocked you flat on your ass at the riverbank. He dicked you down, marked you up—even sank his teeth into the flesh of your neck while pinning you down—and made it patently clear that you two were a thing from that point forward.

You weren’t keen on monogamy, especially in this cheap and tawdry context, but damn if it wasn’t nice to have a warm, sturdy body next to yours every once in a while. The last month had passed in an amalgam of quiet, comfort, and peace, before eventually giving way to the foreboding sobriety of this morning, as you always knew it would. You found yourself growing sick with fear.

This was the day you made good on your promise to dear old Operator and brought his plan into action.

Shortly, Daryl joined you on the stoop.

“That’ll kill ya someday,” he snorted, watching you take another toke.

Above your head, he beckoned you with two fingers to pass the cigarette his way. You pretended not to hear.

Daryl scoffed.

“I give ya all eight inches of me, and y’can’t spare me a single one’a yers?” he said, tipping his chin to the tobacco product lodged between your lips. Pleading with you now.

“Seven,” you corrected him. You exhaled.

Without another word, you straightened up and started off toward the woods. Daryl stood, seemingly stunned a moment before bounding after you.

“Eight!” he repeated.

You watched the man emerge in your periphery as he started to trot alongside you. A direct line of sight wasn’t required to spy the indignation on his face.

“Six and a half,” you scrunched your nose, passing a quick but deliberate look over his lower half.

Daryl glanced down at his crotch and, for a second, came to wonder if the appendage hanging between his legs had possibly shrunk in the dozen-odd years since he’d measured it last. His gaze strayed to the ground, then his boots, then his groin once more before turning to you. The smirk at your lips was evident from a single look.

“Fuck you.” He bit back a laugh of his own as he gave you a shove.

Musings on Daryl’s penis length turned gradually to other, more routine topics like hunting, fishing, and the four new love bites you’d found scattered down your body that morning—‘Will you please try to control that rabid fuckin’ mouth of yours next time, Dixon?’—and before long, the two of you were deep in a discussion of what the weather would be looking like in the next few weeks.

Daryl was convinced you’d see snow, you insisted it was still too early to tell, and together, you trudged side-by-side over a stretch of land that was just then starting to make your stomach turn. Gleaming red leaves littered the ground.

Daryl lifted his arms above his head to gesticulate something big and broad, telling you storm clouds were sure to start rolling in, when suddenly, you stopped.

“Why don’t we check the traps?” you asked.

Daryl stalled his steps too, turning to you with a puzzled look.

“Which ones?”

You pointed to a patch of crimson-colored foliage down the way. Daryl followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“I dun’ remember settin’ any traps there,” he said. He eyed a cluster of brambles enveloping the spot and sincerely couldn’t recall ever setting foot on the terrain.

“Just check it. Please.” Your voice was starting to strain.

Up ahead, you saw an unusually tall stack of red sassafras leaves pooled at the base of a tree. Crowning that mound was a circle in black.

You nudged Daryl’s shoulder.

“Go on,” you urged.

Begrudgingly, he set off. The sounds of his footsteps reached your ears a little louder as he stalked his way through the clearing, evidently less than thrilled to make the trek amongst a swarm of thorns.

You watched him walk, at length, to the locale you’d directed him, and you knew there’d be no animal caught in a snare when he checked it. There’d be no body, no trace, no thing to be discovered beneath that brush, and by the time he’d jerked his head up to sneer that he was right, it would be too late.

You padded over to the pile of sassafras leaves and stared down at that ring of dark ink.

‘Like a burst of little ant bites,’ Operator had told you as he’d fluttered his fingers over your ankle. That was all it was and all it was ever meant to be: a nip at your leg and a couple superficial cuts to your skin. Operator’s right-hand man, a guy by the name of Dwight, had set the trap up himself and had rigged it to where the steel jaws of the thing would clamp your ankle with a lot less force than it normally would, all while giving the appearance of having your calf bit in half.

‘Dixon’s gonna be trippin’ over his nutsack to set you free,’ Operator had predicted, grinning wide as he said it, ‘but Dwight’s got the trap outfitted a little differently—ain’t no pryin’ this thing off your foot without the help of a bona fide professional, see?’

‘It won’t hurt you any— just...tough to take off is all.’ Dwight had added, casting a nervous glance at Operator.

‘Right. Painless.’

Those parting words rang a vicious course in your skull as you stood above the contraption now. Legs shaking something awful and feet refusing to move, you tried to swallow your fears and damn near hurled them all back up when Daryl’s voice broke out a moment later,

“Ain’t nothin’ here!”

Your cue. You lifted your foot.

“Honey?”

No time. He’d spot you any second now.

With all the glamor and ceremony of a person approaching the scaffold, you brought your foot down.

The moment your heel struck the plate—the one you knew was buried deep within those leaves—a pair of springs roused the jaws of the trap in less than an instant and snapped your calf within its teeth even quicker, it seemed. You hardly had the time to react, much less retreat, but when the thing came down and caught you in its grip, you sure as hell knew it had you.

This wasn’t an ant bite, a hornet sting, or a flesh wound from a swarm of horseflies. The trap sailed straight through flesh and bone and made a jarring crunch once its teeth had reconvened across your lower leg. A fragment of your shin splintered out through the skin.

You were screaming bloody murder before your body ever hit the ground.

It was quite possibly the dumbest endeavor you’d ever attempted, but your fingers clawed frantically at the jaws of the trap, trying to pry them apart.

“FUCKING FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

You watched blood jet from rows of jagged puncture wounds.

You heard footsteps thunder ahead, then halt, then give way to the sight of a set of hands thrusting in, joining your efforts to extract the steel from your flesh.

The metal fangs didn’t move.

“Down, down, down, push down— oh God, no, move it there—” Daryl was scrambling, frenziedly trying to tell you to press your foot on the springs to constrict them.

You couldn’t feel your foot, much less move it. You tried jerking your knee upward instead.

Another shriek tore through your chest when every one of your lesions took a hit—unyielding steel shredding more of you than you were of it.

Daryl seized your thigh and eyed your widening gashes.

“Don’t!” he bellowed, far too late but shouting it anyway, “Honey, no, no, please—”

He scarcely knew what he was saying, and you barely heard him. You were draining blood like a stuck pig and losing color in your face even faster. Your head started swimming with the loss of every drop.

Just as you swayed and tried to steady yourself in place, Daryl’s eyes darted to the space right behind you, where a cluster of walkers were shuffling out between the trees.

He clambered for his cross-bow and got back on his feet, moving fast against the pack to start picking them off one-by-one. As he lodged bolts in their brains and took knives to their eyes, you sat there and grabbed your knee, savagely wrestling the steel while red began to flood your vision.

This time, it wasn’t blood but a violent, blinding rage.

“You fucker!” you screeched, raking your fingers over the immotile trap, “Goddamn cocksucking fucker!”

You gripped the thing even tighter in your hands and wrung the metal like it was somebody’s neck—that of Dwight, or Operator, or anyone else to blame for this grotesque horror before you.

They’d set you up. Dwight hadn’t rigged it any safer; he’d boobytrapped the fucking bear snare to make it snap your leg in two. And Operator had given the order. Their goal wasn’t to feign an injury so much as it was to maim you, indelibly, so Daryl would have no choice but to bring you back to his home in Alexandria, and keep you there. You couldn’t believe you’d been so naïve. Every fiber of your being, it seemed, pulsated its wrath beneath your skin.

So wholly immersed in this fit of rage and all but dead below the knee, you shook that rough, bloody stump like it was somehow to blame for your predicament. Heedless of the fluids that came leaking out, of the damage sure to follow, of the sound of Daryl returning beside you in a hurry and begging you to stop.

“Those bastards,” you wept through wet, baring teeth.

Your words barely registered in Daryl’s brain. All he knew was that he needed to prop you up, keep you conscious, and find some materials for a makeshift tourniquet in the next couple minutes. Just as he started to map out that critical move, though, a memory flashed before his mind. Suddenly he was sprinting back across the way he’d came to the bag he’d dropped in the clearing. Almost tripped over his own two feet fumbling to get it open.

You closed your eyes and started to rock back and forth.

“Channel four, do you copy?”

“Dixon to channel four. I have a— a woman in need of emergency help. She’s hurt real bad.”

“Dozen miles out, ‘round Culpeper and Stevensburg.”

You moved your hands from your calf up to the crown of your skull, kneading the skin like it just might banish the waves of nausea and delirium that were starting to take root. Your vision was spinning and dimming each time you chanced to look around you. Colors all bled together.

Your companion kept rattling off names and places and ‘do you copy’s ‘til it seemed he’d turn blue in the face talking into that radio. At length, another voice crackled across the line, and Daryl stopped dead in his tracks,

“Jesus?”

You froze in place too.

In the throes of this blunt trauma-induced hysteria, you sincerely thought Daryl might be talking to a higher power just then. You opened your eyes and tried to wave him over as your body seized with fear. Unfortunately for you, the man was busy barking into the receiver.

“Tell him I ain’—” you whimpered, clawing the air out in front of you, “I ain’t ready.”

Upon seeing your gestures and the poor, frightened look on your face, Daryl stopped once more and dropped to his knees down in front of you.

“’S’wrong?” His eyes already surveying your body for any further signs of harm.

You sniffled, “I ain’t ready to see Jesus just yet.”

“Wh— how come?” Daryl knit his eyebrows together.

“Too many sins on the soul, Saint Peter’ll beat my ass.”

Your mind had worked itself up to a fever pitch at this point, your words coming slurred and near-incoherent. Daryl blinked for a second until it all clicked in his head. Then he said softly, almost wanting to smile,

“We’re not goin’ to meet our Maker, hon, he’s just a friend’a mine.”

“Where’d you find her, Daryl?”

You jumped at the sound of the radio and started to scoot back—dragging the bear trap in tow. Your leg had already gone numb to all sensation, but Daryl saw a thin strip of flesh go peeling off as you moved. He caught your arm and held you firm in place.

“Don’t move, baby,” he pleaded, “Yer just makin’ it worse on yerself.”

Then, to Jesus: “Found her on a— a supply run this morning. Please hurry.”

The man on the other end of the line gave his assent, asked a couple more garbled questions, and shortly ended the conversation. Daryl discarded the radio just as fast and crawled over to take your head in his hands as soon as he did. He shook it fiercely back and forth as your eyelids were just then threatening to close.

“Hey, hey, stay with me, Y/N,” Daryl spoke over and over, patting a desperate measure on your cheeks.

Your complexion was bloodless. Sweat, dirt, saliva, and streaks of garnet red all stained your person in a gory sort of mosaic, too gruesome for Daryl to tear his gaze from.

He pinched your face and pleaded hard, voice breaking, “Honey, stay here— I-I need you awake.”

You swallowed and nodded to nothing at all, eyes scanning the skyline and seeing great globs of gray invade your vision. You were bleeding, seeping, oozing that awful red stuff and feeling it pool about your feet, but there, on the horizon, there was little more than tiny spirals of gray. The sight brought Daryl’s prior weather prediction to mind, and presently, you managed a smile.

“Storm’s comin’,” you mumbled.

You weren’t sure when it started or how it arrived, but a rainfall did reach you at length. Daryl had gathered you up in his arms and squeezed you tight to his chest, rocking you side to side and begging you not to die—‘Die? I feel fine’ you’d grumbled as sparks and flames and fairies danced quietly before your eyes—when droplets of moisture came trickling down from the sky.

That rain went from a drizzle to a downpour in a matter of minutes, and all Daryl could do was drag your two bodies under the shade of a tree and hold you to him. You weren’t sure how long you waited there.

Despite your best efforts, you suspected you might have dozed for a minute or two, because when your eyes had snapped back open from what felt like an extra long blink, you heard footsteps shake the earth beneath you. You glanced down with bloodshot, bleary eyes and saw some fabric fastened tight around your leg and a medley of blue, black, and red painted all down your calf.

“Ew,” you said aloud, your consciousness hovering somewhere far above your head. It was like this body wasn’t yours at all—a mere wax-made effigy, and a shitty one at that—so you felt a bit more at liberty to speak your mind.

Frankly, you didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

Before you knew it, you were being seized by your arms and legs, and you hardly even questioned it.

“Get the door, Rick, dammit.”

“Watch her foot, watch her foot!”

“Fuck’s sake, I got it.”

From what you could make out, you were being hammock-carried by three burly men who were blinking hard against the sheets of rain coming down and shouting extra loud to be heard over the downpour. At your side was a long-haired, handsome sort of guy with eyes the color of the Mediterranean; at your head, another blue-eyed, bearded stud that could’ve easily been a cop in a past life; at your feet, a terror-stricken, and very shirtless, Daryl, holding a healthy foot in one hand and a mangled, steel-shredded lump in the other.

If you weren’t currently bleeding to death, you almost would’ve reckoned this a lovely time to visit Paris.

The trio eased you into the bed of their battered S-10 Chevy. Your head lolled into the lap of the cop, and Daryl squeezed your hand. Then he stepped back over to help his Fabio dupe of a friend at the foot of the bed, and they slowly brought your leg to rest at an elevated level. The two exchanged a few hushed words.

Your eyelids were feeling especially heavy at this point and nearly primed to close, when all of a sudden, the cop tensed below you.

A rough, calloused hand pushed the strap of your tank top a little to the left—and not at all in the way you were hoping—and sharply, the man’s voice broke out:

“Daryl, she’s been bit.”

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine #fanfic

602 notes · View notes

starshipsofstarlord · 6 months

Text

Using You

Summary -> you love him, you really do - he’s your best friend, however you’re scared if you choose to be with him you’ll lose him; you’d already lost too much. However, Daryl thinks that you’re using him to distract yourself with sex. It’s up to you to prove him wrong (2.9k)

Warnings -> 18+ minors dni, smut, unprotected sex, unrequited love (or so Daryl thinks), oral sex (male receiving), shower sex, angst, fluff, mentions of death, swearing, smoking

The bed was cold whilst your body continued to be heated by another, shoved up against the wall, with a large masculine hand covering any sounds that threatened to escape from your lips.

You were lost, the Governor had attacked the prison, leaving all of your friends and family to run for their lives and evade the invading walkers that had entered through the broken fences.

And so here you were, in the home of a stranger that was probably dead, being fucked by the archer, clawing at his broad shoulders to escape the loss of your reality that haunted you each time that you closed your eyes. If anyone could understand the horror that tormented you each time you closed your eyes, it was him.

There was no need for words, there were other distractions that were far more pleasant. And you had found it with his dick inside of you, stretching your walls to the point where you felt lightheaded.

Daryl was your best friend, this was seen as wrong on so many accounts, but since the first time you couldn’t find the strength to not repeat your actions. The initial act had made you addicted to feel your bodies intertwine, however it was all physical. And that was exactly what you craved, any emotions didn’t matter, the chances were that you were going to die out here anyways, so it was in your best interest to enjoy the time that you had while you were alive.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum Dar.” You mumbled against his palm, puffs of air from your nose creating friction against his hand, as your eyes began to roll back upon their own accord.

The man that was bringing you so close your release grunted in reply, aware that he would shortly follow with his own euphoric bliss, he mashed his hips closer to your own, wanting nothing more than to be as deep within you as possible.

He continued to thrust, until you reached your peak which gave him the go ahead to race towards his own, quickly pulling out of you before he could fill you up, to his own dismay. And as soon as you were both finished you crawled out from his grasp, standing on your own two legs and shuffling through your clothes, tugging them on to conceal everything that you had already exposed to him.

“Where ya goin’ now?” Daryl shook his head, walking towards you to wrap his burly arms around your waist. You closed your eyes and tugged his grip away from you, reaching into your pocket for the pack of cigarettes that you had found downstairs.

“Outside. You coming Dixon?” You didn’t wait for a response, and he was complied once dressed to follow after you, sitting on the steps of the forest surrounded house.

There was no sign of any walkers, only sparse bodies that you had taken down when finding the hideaway, it made the world almost feel normal, but you couldn’t fool yourself. It would never be the same again, it was a danger just to breathe let alone travel anywhere, you’d learnt that from witnessing how many of your friends had died through the last couple of years.

Daryl looked at your form, taking in every speckle marked on your skin, each scar that peaked out through the articles that you donned upon your body. You were the reason he had kept living, striving for something better, and he needed you to know that… even if it killed him.

“Y/n.” You hummed in reply, not daring to look at him, watching the silent trees in front of you rather than adorning him with attention. “Y/n, I- fuck, I love ya dammit!” That seemed to have gained your focus and you stared at him with wide eyes, Daryl stood, pacing on the shabby porch, waving his hand in your direction, and running the other at the back of his head.

“Never mind. Was a stupid thing ta say, jus’ forget it.” He went to walk inside but you rushed up, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around to face you - his greatest fear. If anyone else would have handled him in such a way, they would have been scared for their life, but you knew him, all the good and bad, and the traumas he had survived through.

“I won’t forget it.” You pried, serving him a sad smile. “But you don’t love me like that, I’m your best friend. You’re just saying that because of the things we’ve been doing, I don’t want you to confuse yourself. You’re allowed to care about someone without it having to be romantic.”

“I ain’t confused.” Daryl stared at the ground, kicking his boots against the rotting wood beneath him. “I love ya, always have. Was just too scared to say it, afraid that you wouldn’t love me back, clearly I was righ’.”

“Daryl don’t.” You warned him, you could feel your heart breaking from the broken, hopeless expression that he weaned in your direction. “It’s- I do love you. I do! But there’s no point in starting something that we won’t get to finish, I’m not going to live forever, not in this world. And the last thing I want is for you to blame yourself if you lose me!”

“You ain’t going nowhere.” Daryl stated, stepping towards you once more, nervously reaching his hand up to embrace your jaw. “I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you. Yer stuck with me.” He would

“We should go back inside.” You flicked the cigarette out and stepped on its stub, prepared to walk past him to enter the doorway, however he stopped you. He leant down, pecking your lips quickly so he wouldn’t be hurt if you didn’t reciprocate it. “It’s getting dark.”

You spoke softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside with you. If you were to leave Daryl to his own devices he would no doubt disappear into the woods to clear his loud head, and that was the last thing that you wanted.

Everyone else was already lost, out of sight and possibly deceased. You wouldn’t allow Daryl to leave you, you needed him by your side. If it weren’t for him, you probably wouldn’t have made it out of the prison that you had called home.

“I ain’t scared of the dark.” He muttered gruffly to himself as he walked over to the kitchen area, rifling through the cupboards to see if he’d missed anything within his initial inspection. “Don’t need ya keeping me locked up like some pet.”

“Daryl, that’s not what I meant.” You rolled your eyes, wishing that he could understand your rejection of a relationship. You’d had your heart broken far too many times, despite trusting Daryl, to risk something so important in the new world. “I’m turning in, you can either come and join me, or sleep on the couch. Just stay inside please.”

If he wanted to go hunting in the morning you’d happily go with him. The last thing you wanted was for him to be ran off by some walkers or men with bad intentions like the Governor. You didn’t want to be alone, you couldn’t be alone.

If you were left by yourself, you’d see no point in staying inside. It would mean that you had lost everyone, and you couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Fine. Guess I’ll keep yer bed warm since that’s all you wan’ from me.” You wanted to turn on your heel, to fight back with your own words, but that would only spark his agitated fuse to a whole new extent. To be at each others throats could be the difference between life and death in some worldly situations, and you’d rather live with him hating you than him risking to take a bullet or a bite for you.

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes but you harshly blinked them away; it was always your route of dealing with emotions, to shelter them away. But you were struggling with knowing that Rick may have been beaten to death by that dreadful, power hungry dictator, Carol was god knows where when the prison fell, Judith could…

No. Thinking like that wasn’t helping matters. You couldn’t think of the horrid things that could have taken place after you and Daryl ran.

But guilt was bubbling within you as you thought of how Daryl had opened up to you, and you had outright and in the moment pushed his affection away. You wanted nothing more than him to shamelessly be allowed to love you, but once more, the prison had proved that if anyone chose to care about you they died.

It was exactly the same in the old world. You came into this new one after the outbreak with nobody, and you had found a family of people that would have never interacted in the past. Yet you’d lost your family again. It was heartbreaking, and you’d been foolish enough to practically stab Daryl in the chest.

But he had to understand, somehow it really wasn’t him. It was you. You were a torch that brought a plague of mourning to those that surrounded you, and it wouldn’t be fair for him to pursue the grim reaper herself. Even if he wanted to, he would only end up in more pain.

It would be your time eventually to leave this earth, and it wouldn’t be fair for anyone to miss you. Instead they should in theory be relieved that you were gone, it would mean that their chances of not dying had thickened.

Silently you crawled onto the bed frame, Daryl watched you. You wanted nothing more than to cut into yourself and sob, however you had no intention of doing it when he was present, you had upset him, acting as the victim would only infuriate him. For all the time that you’d known him, if he was resenting someone or something in his mind, he was quick to snap if they pissed him off.

Your head fell onto the pillow as you faced the wall on the left side of the bed, it was large enough for the both of you, and so you felt the mattress dip behind you, from where Daryl had joined you.

It was stupid of you to have pushed him away, you yearned for his arms to encase your waist to comfort both of you, but after your outburst of insecurities, you didn’t deserve it. Not in your eyes, and definitely not in Daryl’s.

To fall asleep easier, you closed your eyes and imagined that you were in the cell block you had taken for your own in the prison, in your bunk without any company. In the morning, you would see all your friends and the people that you had saved from Woodbury eating their rations of breakfast that Daryl had hunted and Rick had farmed. You wished you could remain asleep forever so that you wouldn’t return to the scarce reality where you were picking up your own broken fragments of your shattered mind, and that you could mentally remain in the time where everything was easier and you felt happier.

You had fallen into a deep sleep until the early morning, you groggily sat up, noticing that Daryl was no longer by your side, facing away from you.

He was gone, and it made you panic, until you came to your senses and noticed his crossbow in the corner of the room, and the hush sound of the shower in the room next door. It was a surprise that this place still had access to water and that when the outbreak happened it hadn’t been shut off, it must have had its own power source to conduct such a blissful thing.

And so once your eyes were completely open and you had rubbed the exhaustion and spilt tears from your sleep out of them, you stood, tip toeing towards the bathroom, and noticing that the door wasn’t completely closed, it was ajar just a little, and you could see Daryl’s build stood there under the falling water, the scars on his back enticing you closer.

You shouldn’t have been doing this, you had pushed him away for a reason, but your heart ached to be close to him. You did want him, all of him, in every way there was, but if you started falling down you were certain that you would never stop. It was cease to be something of light of heart, and you would have to mourn someone else that you loved.

He must have heard you, he was swift when it came to tracking, so it came as no surprise. “Wha’ d’ya want?” He asked, eyeing you suspiciously, thinking you only wanted to have another escapade as just friends. You shook your head, eyes threatening to spill over as you realised this was the moment to take the risk. The risk that had your breath getting caught in your throat, and the risk that threatened the happily ever after you dreamed of.

You’d rather be loved by Daryl than have regrets in regards to your friendship. All along you had been fooling yourself, to think that the two of you could ever be less than lovers.

“I meant it when I said I loved you. I’m scared- I want to be with you, I just don’t want to lose you.” He stared at you, watching as you chewed your lip and tugged nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “But we have nothing else to live for than each other. I can’t ignore how I feel, I’ve been doing it for too long.”

The rest that you had gotten had really cleared your head, and as much as you were scared of the future, the priority was to live just another day. “I mean’ what I said, yer stuck wit’ me.” Daryl stated, turning to face you completely through the foggy glass, and your eyes examined the seriousness on his face. “Get in ‘ere, I need ya.”

There was no argument from you, it took you less than a minute to strip yourself of your clothing, aware that this time wouldn’t be a distraction. It would mean more, or everything since the pair of you were lacking any emotional barricades between you now.

You stepped into the shower, walking until your head leant against Daryl’s chest, and his arms encased you, as you mumbled against his skin. “I’m sorry I tried to push you away.”

“I’m sorry I was a jerk.” He replied, holding your face so that he could breathe against your lips. “Didn’ mean anything I said, ‘cept that I love ya. Always have, was jus’ too scared to say it before, figured we had nothin’ more to lose.” He gripped your waist, his knuckles turning white under the cool spray of the shower head as he pulled you flush against him so that you could feel the affect that you had upon his body.

“We don’t.” You agreed, grabbing gently at his shoulders as you met his gaze and the two of you simultaneously leant toward one another. Your lips met, slowly, exploring this newfound feeling of requited love, giving all you had away. Your fears were gone, they didn’t matter anymore, they were locked away in the back of your mind as Daryl effortlessly lifted you up and into his arms, resting you between him and the tiled wall.

“Wish we never had to leave ‘ere, wish we could stay here like this forever,” he spoke against the flesh of your neck as he released kisses to everywhere he could reach. His hand that wasn’t supporting your weight grabbed his cock, tracing the outside of your cunt, causing your breath to hitch, a gasp escaping you as he pushed into you.

He huffed against your warm skin, feeling how your pussy fluttered around his length, as your hands wove through his hair. Once you were fully adjusted, he began to rock into you, pulling in and out, relishing in the glory of your bodies colliding.

Your lips found purchase on his again, silencing the loud moans that threaten to spill over and alert any nearby walkers of your destination. “Fuck. You feel so good Dar.” You whimpered, your eyes closing to avert the falling water from joining the pleasure emitting tears that were spilling, as you felt the notion of love beginning to creep upon you.

Daryl reached down, rubbing at your clit, which causes you to fall over the edge. The edge of endless love, that you had been too frightened to witness. You came around his cock, drenching him with his affection as he pulled out and you instantly dropped to your knees, too weak to stand up.

He leant down to help you, however your mind had different ideas, as you leant forward and shoved his cock in your mouth, gifting the man above you with surprise. His hand rubbed at your scalp adoringly as he heaving inhaled and exhaled, lightly thrusting into your mouth.

You happily choked on his cock as you stared up at him with eager eyes, wanting nothing more than to feel his cum slide down your throat. And the release didn’t stretch out much longer, he emptied his first load since realising that you loved him, and you drank it down without any resentment.

This was all he had wanted, for a long time, to feel as though he mattered more than a tracker and a hunter. He wanted to be loved by the woman of his dreams, and after a dragging of unrequited time, he had finally, for the first time, gotten what he wanted.

You.

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lazyneonrabbitt · 3 months

Text

Hunters Ink

Tattoo artist!Daryl Dixon x Reader

One tattoo leads to many more when you fall head over heels with the artist.

You made your way into the shop, quickly engulfed in old rock music and the buzz of machines. The place was packed.

An older bald man welcomed you, a bright smile on his face after he had notified his client. "What can I help ya with, sweetheart?"

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to go about things. "I'd like to get a tattoo."

The man gave you a soft laugh. "Well tha's a given, why else walk into our shop, huh? Now, you got a picture withya, or do ya need sum time to look around fer inspiration?" He motioned around and pointed at the walls adorned with designs.

"I brought something" You fished in your bag for the piece of paper that held the print of a dog's paw.

The man took in the print and called someone else over.

"Daryl! C'mere, this one's yer business." When he turned back to you his voice went softer. "Mah brother does what ya want, my style ain't good fer the lil' details. He'll take over, yeah?"

He handed your paper over to his brother, who looked it over. "Where d'ya wan' it?" You went over all the basic details, where, how big and if you had any other tattoos already. You shared the reasons behind the pawprint and got a couple of placement suggestions before deciding you wanted the piece on your lower arm.

The appointment was quickly made and you left with Daryl's artist card and a warm feeling inside.

The day of the appointment came up quick and you made sure to follow the advice you were given. You had a good meal beforehand and brought some sugary sweets and drinks with you.

"C'mon over, cutie. Got yer paw ready for ya." Daryl came to collect you after you hadn't moved when he called you.

"I got the whole day for ya, so we'll go at your pace, yeah?" His gravely voice was so calming, it really helped with the first tattoo nerves.

"Thanks, really appriciate it." You gave him a sweet smile as you watched him cut different sizes of your tattoo and asked for your hand. "Let's see which size looks best."

Daryl held the guessed sizes to the chosen spot on your arm. "I think the second one?" He took it and held it to your arm once again at your decision and after taking it in you decided it was good.

"Aight, go sit and I'll get it ready for ya." You followed his every move as he talked through the whole stencil making process and came back to you.

With minimal peach fuzz removal and proper cleaning the stencil was on your arm and you were admiring the idea of what it would look like when it was done.

You were ready to go.

Daryl's touches were featherlight, so precise and focused you were almost scared to speak from the moment he held tour wrist to place your arm on the stand beside the chair.

"M'gonna start, do a lil' line ta see how ya handle it." He rubbed something on the stenciled skin and moved the buzzing, inked up machine to your skin, keeping and eye on you as well but you barely gave a kick when he drew the first line.

Daryl gave you a proud smile and went to work. "Ya can ask ta tap out anytime, need ta keep ya as comforable as possible."

You watched his hands work your skin. The way the muscles in his arms tensed at every precise movement and the way his hair was tied back for the work was hypnotising to see. The outline was done before you knew it with how distracted you were by his own large collection of ink.

"How'r ya holdin' up? S'not so bad ain't it?" He came back with a glass of soda for you to give you both a little break.

You admired your arm, the skin all red from the scraping but it didn't hurt that bad. "I'm good." You started, giving yourself a moment to form a sentence. "You're so.. so much softer than you look?" God what were you saying? That was nowhere near a compliment.

"Ya thought we're all as loud as Merle? Loud music, loud angry mouth?" You shyly nodded as his correct assumption. He was being so sweet to you, making sure you were still good every few moments and it warmed your heart to know such kind people were still around. You just didn't think they looked like that.

With the way his heavy boots stomped through the room and the chains on his pants jingled with each step you'd expected short, snappy answers and the all black attire didn't feel welcoming at all before.

But now as you stared at him while he was answering a phone call you couldn't help but let your mind wander off.

You were mesmerised with the ink covering his throat, the wings that followed the natural lines of his body almost perfectly, and every other piece that disappeared into the neckline of his shirt. Even the nude lady laying over the top end of a knife on his lower arm was pretty to you, and you never though the silouhette of roadkill would hold your attention like it did.

"Didn't your mama ever teach ya it's rude ta stare?" You were so deep in thought you hadn't heard the door bell jingle when Merle came waltzing in. His voice pulled you from your daydreaming so fast you got embarrassed. With your head ducked down you glanced over at Daryl who was still on the phone, but he did look back at you with a smile and winked at you. He flipped off his brother with his free hand and went back to writing on a scrap piece of paper and ending the call.

"Ya see me on the phone from outside the window and ya still come in like tha'?"

Merle only laughed and went over to his station to set up for the day. Their back and forth bickering kept up for a bit but it didn't bother you with Daryl smiling through all of his comebacks.

"Darlene, when will ya learn it's still mah own shop, so I can do whatever the hell I want." Merle was at the printer, reading his client's designs while Daryl wiped the excess ink off your skin. "Your shop? Aight how 'bout ya start doin' all the supply orders too, then. Watch ya run outta paper towels halfway into a client's piece."

Merle only yammered some insult in return and went back to working in silence.

Now that his brother was finally quiet again Daryl could continue working without interuptions, having constatly removed the machine from your skin as he replied to the conversation.

A couple of times you thought he was done when he went to move away, but eaxh time it was small top ups and detailing, making sure all the small lines of fur were copied over from the stamped pawprint of your dearest friend were copied over onto your body.

"Ya still like me after today?" He was cleaning up his station while you were admiring his work in the mirror and saw him smile at you in a way that had your stomach do a flip in the best way, already thinking up a next piece so you could come back.

"Ofcourse I still like you! You got me exactly what I wanted, thankyou." You were back at his station, letting him clean your arm for the last time with his gentle touches, but not without a soft "Sorry." before wiping away the excess fluids and wrapping it up for you.

"I'll give ya this, tells ya how ta care fer new ink. And this, on the house." You accepted the paper and aftercare creme and made your payment before you shared goodbyes and you went on your way.

As planned you came back to the shop four weeks later to show the healed piece, not needing any touch ups and getting compliments on taking good care of it.

Instead of heading out immedately you stuck around, looking at the walls until Daryl's voice caught your attention. "Ya wanna ask somethin'?"

You looked at him before averting your gaze again, somehow feeling it was wrong to already ask for a new tattoo. You heard Daryl chuckle. "Ya want somethin' new, dontcha? Tell me whatya got in mind."

He had stopped to lean over the front counter and gave you a knowing smile. "Ya were starin' at the animals, want one o'them?" He looked over and pointed at the frame that held a part of his flash designs and you carefully mentioned liking the rabbit, but not the overall dark theme of the collection.

"Lemme draw ya a pretty bunny and i'll send ya the picture, 'kay?" You immediately loved the idea. The way Daryl's animal desings held so much emotion had you excited he was designing one just for you. "Yeah, that would be amazing. A softer, maybe less dead bunny." You smiled whe he slid over a piece of paper that held your info he copied from your previous appointment, but the phone number section still open. "Fill tha' in for me? Fer the books."

Maybe it wasn't the smoothest way to ask for your number, but he had it now along with a reason to text you.

Not long after you got your bunny, then came some flowers added around it and eventually you were getting custom pieces drawn by Daryl every time you had some money to spend.

Ofcourse it wasn't all you. Daryl had figured out where you worked and made sure to leave you very generous tips to add to your tattoo funds, just so Merle wouldn't figure out you weren't paying full price anymore now that you were getting so close.

"No way he just left you that much--" your work bestie squinted at you as your gaze followed Daryl out the door after he had paid way too much and headed out. "Is he your boyfriend?" You looked at her with a frown and swatted her arm. "Shut up, oh my god we're just friends.."

The truth was, you were both too scared to ask the other out, so seeing each other at the shop and the lunch place was what kept you both close for now.

A/N: This took so much longer than I planned, I hope the hype for this one hasn't left yet!!

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl

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