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blushyeleven · 9 months

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Tickletober - DAY 1

Anticipation

ITS TICKLETOBER!! AHHH, im gonna try my best to keep up with all the fics😭 all of them have Jenna Ortega in them.. js maybe as a different character💀 but anyways.. happy tickletober everybody! <3

characters: lee!enid x ler!wednesday

Warnings: tickles, threats

𝑹𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓

“I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you” the sentence that left chills running down enids spine. It was inevitable. Enid couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about her ticklish fate. The biggest problem was it could be any day, any hour, any second. So she took Wednesdays suggestion, and infact, did sleep with one eye open. She shuddered at the thought of Wednesdays revenge. She knew it was coming but she just didn’t know when and that thought scared her the most

Naturally, she avoided Wednesday as much as she could, keeping small talk only when necessary and always being aware. It was Wednesdays favourite game, anticipation. She evilly snickered in her own head when she saw that enid was being extra cautious around her. It brought her some twisted joy in a way. Enid knew she was going to get tickled. Just a matter of when.. and where.

Wednesday wasn’t acting any different then she normally did, which scared enid more. She was just her normal, dark and monotone self. Almost like she forgot about her little devious plan.. but enid knew better. This was all a facade in her warped and sadistic game.

Enid was never one to absolutely hate being tickled but it was a little hard to be excited about something when you didn’t know it was about to face you.

Enid came through the wooden door to her shared dorm and quickly threw herself onto her bed. “Hello enid.” Wednesday replied, not actually facing the werewolf. Instead she was sat at her desk. “h-hey!” Enid stuttered slightly. “You seem a little.. shaken up.. you okay?” Wednesday asked with a twinge of evil in her voice, smirking to herself. “yup!.. all is fine!” Enid tried her best to not look intimidated by the goth girl, but Wednesday didn’t even have to look at the girl to know she was panicky. “Okay.. if you say so.” Again, the sinister tone lingered in her voice. Wednesday was clearly taunting the poor girl, she found it amusing.

2 days past and enid was still tickle-free. She was beginning to ponder how long this would last for. Did Wednesday really forget? (spoiler alert: ofcourse she didn’t) well, only time would tell. To tell the truth, enid was usually a very heavy sleeper. But with this awakening nightmare, it caused her usual heavy sleep to become very light and lucid. Quickly tiring enid out. A silly mistake really, but enid decided to go back to the dorm and have a nap. Just to recharge herself and bring up her energy levels and it was a bonus, wednesday wasn’t there. And it was soon enough before enids eyes closed and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Until she jolted awake at the sound of a door shutting, she didn’t know how long she was passed out for..but there she was, the goth pigtailed girl herself. “wow, somebody’s jumpy..” Wednesday mused seeing the startled look on the blondes face. “yeah I-..” enid rubbed her eyes. Not feeling as tired. She was right, the nap did help.

Until Wednesday looked at enid, her expression was unreadable as she started walking closer. Enids eyes widened and nervously shuffled back in her seat untill Wednesday was practically infront of her “Wednesday! I’m- I- I’m sorry!!” She clenched her eyes shut waiting for the amazing dreaded feeling to start.. but to her surprise Wednesday reached out her hand to fix a strand of enids hair that was sticking up. “You really are skittish” Wednesday smirked. Enid let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding “I wonder why..” Wednesday ended that rhetorical question with a squeeze to werewolf’s side, causing her to jump and let out a squeal.

That’s when the blonde realised, the imaginary timer above her head had reached 0 and Wednesdays just smirked and began squeezing at her side rapidly. Enid fell into squeaky laughter, trying to bat at Wednesdays hand. “Wahahait-“ “for what?” Wednesday mused and then climbed on enids bed and started scribbling after her sides. Enid squirmed and kicked but it was no use, the pigtailed girls hands still managed to find their way onto her sides. “IHIHIM SOHOHORRY!!” She shrieked. “I accept your apology enid, but no good deed goes unpunished” wednesday replied mischievously. “BAHAHAHAHAH!!” Enid was barking out laughter and thrashing about. Wednesday then moved her evil fingers up to enids ribs. “poor puppy has been nervous around me for 2 days, well, your getting what you deserve now” she cooed. “YOHOHOUR MEHEHEHAN!” Enid exclaimed through her helpless giggle fit.

“Well, can you blame me for believing in revenge?.. although It took a while.. this was definitely worth the wait” Wednesdays tone was extremely teasy, it was worse that all her words were spoken flatly with an edge of playfulness. Making enids face react with a pericing blush, painting her cheeks. “AHAHAHHAHAHAHA I CAHAHANNTTT!!” Wednesdays fingers then crawled their way up to enids armpits, clawing mercilessly at them. “BAHAHAHAHHA NOHOHOHO!! AHAHAH! DOHOHONNTT!!!! STOOHOHOHOHOPPP!!” Enid was howling with laughter, just letting it flow out of her mouth and filling the air. “Don’t stop? See.. I had my suspicions that you liked this and I guess I now know for sure” wednesday smirked and watched enids blush intensity. “SHUHUT UHUP!! YOU KNOHOW I DIDNT MEHEAN IHIT LIKE THAHAT!!” Enid tried her best to put up a protest and protect her secret, but who she was trying to pretext her secret from was the problem. If Wednesday wanted to find something out, she would. Plus it was painfully obvious. The blushing, the smiling the provoking. It was all little signs that enid did infact enjoy being tickled.

“well.. I wouldn’t put it past you.. it seems like something you would enjoy” Wednesday stated, skittering her fingers against enids stomach. “WHAHATS THAHAT SUPPOSE TO MEHEAN?” If she could, enid would look fake offended right now, but it was practically impossible through her outbursts of laughter. “It simply means that tickling is just something you, out of all people, would find enjoyable” Wednesday rephrased her statement. “SHUHUT UHUHHUPP!!” Is all enid could reply to that because it was true. Wednesday could pull the truth out of anybody. She was basically a walking, talking lie detector. And then came the dreaded question, the question that nobody could avoid. “Am I wrong?” The goth girl replied smugly. Enid thought it would be better to not reply then to agree with her so she just let herself laugh “now, I would say your silence is deafening but it’s not silent if your giggling like a toddler.” Her smug tone drove enid over the edge, it some how made her more ticklish. I guess Wednesday just had that affect on people. Untill suddenly Wednesdays hands moved back to enids armpits, seeing as it brought out the best reaction of her. Digging her black painted fingernails tigjt into enids hollows. “BAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH YOUR EHEVIL!!” “guilty as charged” Wednesday knew she was cruel. She never denied it or was upset about it. She actually enjoyed it. Enids laughter soon became more stretched out and breathy, her eyes watering. All classic signals that showed Wednesday her victim was close to their breaking point. Wednesday was cruel and cold-hearted, but she wasn’t that sadistic, not towards enid anyway. She saved that kind of sadism for her bother, pugsley. “AHAH.. AHAAHAHA… BAHAHAAH” enid was desperately trying to catch her breath through her hysterics, her glassy eyes letting water drip out of them slightly from laughing so hard. And that’s when Wednesday stopped. Retrieving her hands and letting enid sit up. The blonde girl was gasping for air but had the stupidest smile wiped across her face. To which Wednesday rolled her eyes and got up from her vibrant rainbow bed “I hope you’ve learned your lesson” she then started walking back to her side of the divided room. Enid was left sat there, breathless.

“Oh and sinclair, if you try to exact another tickle attack on me, I’ll lock you in my secret dungeon and leave you to rot” enid shuddered at that and didn’t attempt to tickle Wednesday again.. (another spoiler alert: she lasted 4 days, and ofcourse Wednesday got her revenge.. again..)

#tickle content #tickle #sfw tickle #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #jenna ortega #wednesday x enid #wednesday addams #wednesday #Wednesday Addams tickle #wednesday Addams ler #enid emma myers #enid sinclair #enid twd #wednesday is soft for enid #enid tickle

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florrentine · 2 months

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her boots and socks are placed neatly on a flat rock up and out of the splash zone as she finishes rolling up her left pant leg to her knee to match the right she's already finished before setting off on the precarious journey from shore to the middle of the stream. slippery rocks and the occasional brush against her foot ( a waterlogged leaf or a fish --- at least she's hoping that's what it was ) have her shrieking and cursing quietly to herself, but before long, she's standing proud in the middle of a slow moving current, goosebumps up and down her arms showing just how cold the water is. "c'mon. your turn. i refuse to look this ridiculous alone."

@aintashes ; ❛ there's no way in hell i'm doing that. ❜

she lifts her foot and drags it along the top of the water, enough to make a wave but not nearly enough to reach the shore. "guess it's a good thing we aren't in hell then," though the overwhelming amount of humidity down here that she's yet to fully get acclimated to might argue otherwise ----- but even on the hottest days back in new york city ( or london, for that matter ), wading into a stream like this had never been an option. ( well ... there were those fountains in central park she could've dashed into any time she liked, but the idea of having to sit in a holding cell in soaking wet clothes while the status of her student visa hung in the balance had been enough of a deterrent. )

"now you can either come on in, or i can walk all the way back there and pull you in. your choice."

#aintashes #inbox. › answered.#verse. › twd.#the fact i can hear him say that tickles me to no end

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starb4es · 1 year

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carl grimes tkl hcs !! :))

( this has rarl in it pls don’t cancel me:,( )

__________________________________________

lee

lee leaning switch

the first person who found out in the group was michonne

THIS POOR BOY , HES WAY TOO TICKLISH FOR HIS OWN GOOD😭

wasn’t tickled a lot when he was a kid , i mean sometimes but besides that he wasn’t tickled that much

he’ll give signs that he wants to be tickled ASHIEKEBSHSU ITS SO CUTE

like he’ll js steal things from people js to be tickled

HES GOT THE SWEETEST LAUGH / GIGGLE AND EVERYTHING

bro he cannot say tickle LMAOO

he gets flustered anytime anyone says it

anytime he wants to be tickled he’ll be like “ can you do that thing..? yk the tword..?”LMAOOO

when carl and ron would hang out , ron would be sitting next to him talking ab something boring and carl started zoning out. ron poked carls hip and he immediately started giggling , IT ALL WENT DOWN FROM THERE

lers that get him : daryl , rick , michonne, ron, and enid

literally loves being tickled by anyone but he will never admit that

rly insecure ab his laugh and smile:(

he covers his mouth every time he laughs or smiles

RASPBERRIES ARE LIKE DEATH ROW

he will literally die

BRO HE WILL START CRYING SO EASILY ( not in a bad way happy tears )

he’ll start screaming and screeching if you touch his hips bro.

his hips r his WORST SPOT

worst spots are his underarms 10/10, thighs 9.5/10, ribs 9/10, and hips 10000/10.

ler

OKAY SO HE BARELY EVERY TICKLES ANYONE

BUT WHEN HE DOES

THIS BOY IS SO MEAN STOP

bro he tickles people to tears when he wants to

lees he gets : ron, enid, daryl ( he tries )

he tickled ron once , bro ron actually died

ron was sleeping for the next three hours😭

he shows no mercy , its terrifying

GOES FOR HIS LEES DEATH SPOT FIRST

chases his lee down

HES SO SCARY STOP

HE WILL NOT STOP UNTIL YOU R BEGGING AND CRYING FOR MERCY

HE WILL PIN YOU DOWN LMAOO

he gives aftercare dw

i might have gone a little insane but wtv

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes #the walking dead tickle

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intoxicated-chan · 5 months

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ You and Daryl have been sneaking around your brother’s back, even more when he isn’t home. But your brother begins to become suspicious and worried, even more when Shane gives him a good idea of the guy you’ve been hiding from him.

(A/n) ➳ I’ve decided to make my last post have a third part, I’m not sure if you guys are a big fan of reading long works. This isn’t my favorite works but hopefully you guys like it. P.S, REQUEST FOR THE TWD S1-3 ARE OPEN!! Read rules firsts! You can also check out my oncoming worms coming soon, expect the series ones. They might take awhile.

Word Count ➳ 1.5k

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, Season 2-3 Daryl/MODERN AU, angst-to fluff? Swearing, sexual content, overstimulation, protective sex, pet names (Darlin’, good girl, sunshine), biting (once), little blood, nonconsensual photo taking (Shane), swearing, mentions of a criminal investigation…

My The Walking Dead WIP

You clutched Daryl’s shirt as he relentlessly pounded into you. Your eyes rolled back, arching your back as moans escaped your lips.

Daryl gritted his teeth, his brows furrowing as he inhaled sharply. He panted heavily over you, holding onto your hips tightly..

Your body felt uncomfortably hot, the cracked window kept you cool. The winter breeze leaves goosebumps across your sweaty skin. Your thighs shook, you found it difficult to focus on one thing without Daryl taking you out of your thoughts with his cock.

You spoke incoherently, begging him to go harder, as if he wasn’t fucking you so hard that the headboard was slamming against the wall. He was a little surprised that no one came knocking to complain.

“D-Daryl!” You sobbed, tears falling from corners of your eyes.

He chuckled at your state, just moments ago, you were bragging on how you could take him for hours and hours with no break. You should really think before you speak.

“C’mom, use ya words.” Daryl teased you. “Beg for it darlin’.”

You let out a frustrated whine. “M-My brother is going to be home any second!” Daryl rolled his eyes, stopping his movements and pulled out. You whined again. “Daryl-”

“Quiet.” He hushed you. Daryl flipped you over, using one hand to push your head into the pillow and the other to grip your hip. He leaned down, his hot breath tickling your ear. “Words.”

“Just fuck me Daryl!” You cried out, now holding onto the pillow for dear life.

Daryl chuckled. “Good girl.” Then he slammed right back inside of you.

Your loud moans were muffled against the pillow, you shut your eyes at the overwhelming feeling. The coil in your stomach is growing, nearly unbearable. Even more when he’s pounding into that spot deep inside of you.

The sound of muffled moans, Daryl’s hushed grunts, and skin slapping was all that was heard… Besides the loud headboard.

You’re squeezing around him, it was pure bliss. Daryl bit into your shoulder so hard that he could taste blood.

You were on edge, it was almost to the point of hurting. Daryl could feel you clenching around him, he knew.

He too was about to come with a couple of hard and fast thrusts. “Daryl- I’m goin’-” You felt your entire body shake as Daryl came along with you as well.

You gasped when he slowly pulled himself off of you, you felt dizzy and breathless. Your heart pounded as you felt light headed.

Daryl slipped off the condom and tied it, tossing it into your little trash can. He came back to your side, his hand running over your back. “Can ya move?” You give him a slight nod.

That’s when you heard the front door opening and closing. Your heart dropped and you looked at Daryl with wide eyes.

“(Y/n)?!” Rick called out, you could hear Carl’s laughter running through the house. “Are you home?”

His only point of escape was your window… You pushed Daryl with whatever strength you had left. “Go, go.” You whispered. “Before Rick sees you.”

“Ya kiddin’ me.”

“I ain’t.” Giving him another push. “Rick is an officer, who knows what he’ll do to you when you’re caught.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Daryl grinned, ear to ear. “‘Cause I ain’t done with ya yet.”

“I don’t know, (Y/n)’s been actin’ suspicious ever since last night.” Rick ran his hand through his hair, holding his hot cup of coffee in the other. “I heard her stutterin’, refusin’ to get out of her room…”

“I think it’s obvious.” Shane replied, sitting next to him, watching over Carl who played in the yard. Rick looked at him curious. “She’s hidin’ someone. A man.”

“...No.” Rick shook his head. “She wouldn’t, she’d tell me if she was at least interested in someone.”

Shane scoffed at him. “When’s the last time (Y/n) told you she was seein’ someone? Or tell you anythin’ else about her life?”

Rick was ready to retort but he took a moment. When was the last time you told him anything? It would’ve been years ago…

He sighed, taking a small sip of his coffee. “...Who would she be seein’? Have you seen the people ‘round here?”

Shane begins to count with his fingers. “There’s Travis a block over… Matt-”

“The creep Matt or the mailman Matt?” Bringing his cups to his lips.

“Mailman Matt… Annie… Daryl-”

Rick choked on his coffee. “Daryl? As in Daryl Dixon? The one who’s place of work is under investigation?”

“Yeah, the guy has been ridin’ out ‘ere often.” Shane chuckled louder as he saw Rick’s horrified face. “He parks his bike a couple of blocks over. Makin’ sure no one sees ‘im.”

“How the hell you know this?”

“Who do you think brings you home after a night out?”

Rick groaned, setting his coffee down on the porch. “You thinkin’ to catch them screwin’?”

“No, I’m thinkin’ to catchin’ Daryl leavin’.” Shane leaned in closer. “Act like nothin’s wrong. You’re workin’ all night thursday, I have a feelin’ that Dixon is gonna pay a visit.”

“I keep warnin’ you Daryl.” You huffed, crossing your arms as Daryl sat on his bike. “You’re goin’ to get yourself into trouble with Rick.”

“Ya worried for me sunshine?” Daryl snickered, putting on his jacket. “Think Imma get hauled away?”

“Daryl-” He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt to bring you closer to him, placing a quick kiss on your lips.

“Quit yer worrin’, ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me.” Daryl sat back as the bike roared. “I’ll see ya soon.” Its distinctive hum of the motor loudly echoed.

You playfully rolled your eyes and waved him off, standing on the sidewalk as he rode away. You continued to watch until he was no longer in sight, you turned back to the house you shared with Rick, walking to the front door.

Minutes later, Shane looked over the photo taken of Daryl kissing you. He sighed, disappointed that his suspicions were right. You could’ve chosen any other person to sleep with, why did it have to be Daryl Dixon.

Shane knew that Rick wasn’t going to be happy with this news, he had to come up with a way to approach it with him.

He comes home in five minutes.

Rick was expecting to pass Daryl on the way home, but with his car window down to feel the warm breeze of Georgia’s summer, he heard a distant hum of a motorcycle.

He muttered no on his way, muttering no as he parked, no as Shane approached him, and no as he was handed Shane’s phone to show the photo taken.

He took a minute to breath and collect his thoughts, thinking of various ways to approach you about this. Once his mind was set, he took one deep breath and entered your room.

Rick looked around first, nothing seemed to be out of place, except new bedsheets.

You eyed your brother, confused on why he’s looking around your room. “Are you okay Rick?” You asked him, sitting up on your headboard.

“You ain’t gonna lie to me when I ask you somethin’. You ain’t gonna dodge the question, and you sure as hell ain’t gonna say that the woman in the photo kissing Daryl ain’t you.”

“Rick-” He shoved his phone into your hands, showing the said photo. Your heart dropped, it caught the perfect view.

“You gonna say anythin’?”

You looked back at the phone and Rick, handing it to him. “I’ve been seeing him for a couple of weeks.” You admitted.

“Where did you meet him?”

“The bar-”

“Which?”

“Does it really matter?” You picked at your lips, trying to keep eye contact. “Look, I’m sorry that I’ve been sleeping with him behind your back.”

Rick ran a hand over his face, taking a moment to process. “...I ain’t gonna stop you. But that means you can deal with the consequences. I sometimes be forgettin’ you’re grown.” You knew when he turned his head, he was stopping himself from crying.

You gasped, rushing over to Rick. “C’mon Rick! Don’t cry on me, I should be the one beggin’!”

He wiped his eyes and faced you again, collected. He placed his hands on your shoulders. “The brothers are known to get deep into shit. They got terrible reputations.”

“Rick-”

“Don’t say you love him.” Rick cut you off. “Love ain’t gonna always enough, understand?”

“…Yeah.”

“Go see him again, decide if this is what you want.”

“But I already decided.” You replied. “I know what I want, and it’s to continue whatever I have with Daryl.”

Rick took a moment before nodding. “Okay, okay. If this is what you want then I ain’t stoppin’ you.” He gave you a quick hug before leaving your room.

You looked him in the eye and said what you thought was right for you. Why was the doubt creeping in now? After weeks screwing Daryl behind your brother’s back, why now?

“Is this all a mistake?”

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 21 days

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Words: 5,818

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Reader pronouns: she/her

Era: the Whisperers

Warnings: language (lots of swearing always haha), typical TWD violence

Summary: Daryl finds himself in a tight spot in the woods when walkers are suddenly behaving in ways they shouldn't.

A/N: This is the first part of a news series! Thanks for joining me on another new adventure.

“How was it?” Carol asked, catching sight of Daryl as he came in.

The archer shrugged. “Got somethin’. Deer. Ain’t much. Was pretty scrawny, but better than nothin’. Dropped it off at the pantry,” he drawled. He hesitated and she saw it immediately.

“What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

Daryl shook his head and shrugged again. “I dunno. S’weird. I felt like somethin’ was watchin’ me out there some of the time.”

She leaned heavily on the counter, a tight frown growing on her face. “Something?”

“Or someone maybe,” Daryl said with a shrug.

The worry lines on her forehead deepened. “Well, did you see any sign of anybody out there? How close were you to here, to Hilltop?”

Daryl hauled his crossbow off his shoulder and shrugged. “I didn’t see shit. And I was a ways off but not far enough. Close enough that if somebody is out there, they’d probably stumble their way here eventually. Made sure nobody could follow me back but—” He chewed on his bottom lip anxiously. “I dunno.”

Carol looked worried and her eyes drifted to Henry where he stood with Alden and Earl, already starting his blacksmith training.

Daryl reflexively reached for his knife in its sheath, meaning to check the sharpness of the blade. He swore when his hand grasped at air. “Fuck!” he growled.

“What is it?” Carol asked.

Daryl sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, annoyed. “I must have left my knife out there… Prob’ly set it down after I gutted the damn deer. There were walkers comin’ and I was in a hurry.” He sighed heavily again. “Shit. I’ll go back for it tomorrow. See what else I can see out there. I can’t shake the damn feeling somethin’ was out there.”

Carol nodded, her brow still furrowed.

“Ya heard anything from Michonne? How’re the kids?” Daryl asked.

Carol’s expression dropped. “Haven’t heard. We’re still… not talking. She’s keeping Alexandria closed off.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hums, swinging his crossbow back up on his shoulder. He was about to go on, but Tara, Jesus, and Aaron come running up. They exchange greetings and hugs before Daryl excuses himself to find some place to crash with Dog for the night.

Carol puts her arm around Henry’s shoulder as they watch him wander toward the barn. “I guess he’s not so bad,” Henry comments. “Henry!” Carol scolds him, but she can’t help laughing a little herself.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning Daryl woke early like usual, plagued by the same old restlessness that never seemed to have a cause or a cure. He wanted his damn knife back, and that nagging feeling was still bothering him, like a tickle at the back of his brain, some itch he couldn’t reach to scratch. That feeling he had been watched the day before. He assembled his gear, grabbed a spare knife, and set off beyond the walls of Hilltop and back into the woods, retracing his route from the day before.

It was easy to retrace his steps. Even if he hadn’t known the woods like the back of his hand by then after his six years of wandering, the circle of vultures and noisy cawing of ravens squabbling over the gut scraps of the carcass drew him. He prepared himself in case there were walkers feeding too. He found the gut pile easily and started to search the ground nearby for his knife. He felt through the leaf litter and kicked over sticks and through nearby bramble but his search was initially fruitless. Did the damn thing sprout legs? What the hell… It wasn’t until he stood up in frustration and really scanned his surroundings that the glint of something silver caught his eye.

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as they landed on the metallic object. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and stood on end. He found himself carefully surveying the entirety of his surroundings again, straining his hearing for any sound of movement, squinting into the shadows cast by the large trees overhead. He cautiously approached the nearby tree trunk, watching where he placed his feet, waiting for someone to pounce like this was a trap and he was the mouse going for the cheese.

His knife was hanging from an arrow shot into the trunk of a huge oak, dangling from a leather strap. Daryl carefully slid it off and inspected it. It looked just as it had the day before, except for the addition of the makeshift loop in order to hang it from the arrow. Oh—and it had been sharpened? The blade was honed to perfection. And the arrow was something else… He grabbed and pulled on the shaft, but the head broke off and remained buried deeply in the tree. He could tell, however, that it had been handmade. The fletching was of stiff, black, glossy feathers with a slightly iridescent sheen. He spun the shaft between his fingers and watched the way the light shone on them, shifting from plum to emerald to shining sapphire blue and then back to deep night. He glanced over his shoulder, frozen, listening.

He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but he knew one thing for certain now; he wasn’t imagining that feeling of being watched. But who was watching and why would they bother to hang a found knife in case its owner returned? Most people would have considered it a good find and kept it for themselves. He maintained it religiously as a rule. It was in perfect condition. Not that he was complaining… but it seemed fucking peculiar.

As he turned toward home, a raven let out a series of raspy croaks overhead and took flight. The wood was so quiet that Daryl could hear the wind through its wings as it flapped past and wheeled upwards, disappearing into the canopy of the craggy trees.

Daryl began to slowly search the area for any sign of someone, but was surprised and even more perplexed when he couldn’t seem to find a leaf or twig out of place. Not even a damn partial footprint… an impression in the ground. Nothing. The archer scoured the area thoroughly for the next couple hours, knife back in its sheath and the mysterious arrow shaft with its inky black fletching clutched in his right hand. He kept his eyes open for game, but it seemed to be making itself as scarce as clues were. There were seemingly endless game trails, old and new, and he walked them as systematically as he could. It was the easiest way to get around. Step off to either side and the blackberry brambles and vines would tear at your clothes and skin, biting in and drawing blood. That alone should have made it easier to figure out if someone was lurking around, but he found neither track nor trace… With the day wearing on and no sign of anything else out of the ordinary, Daryl conceded and decided to head back to Hilltop. At least he had his knife...

It was nearly dark by the time Daryl could see the walls of Hilltop ahead. Carol happened to be up on the guard platform when he returned, though Henry was absent. “Find anything?” she asked, surveying his expression as he came inside and the walls closed behind him. He was as stoic as always.

His hand went to the handle of his knife, replaced in its sheath. “Yes and no,” he drawled. Furrows appeared in Carol’s forehead. “Found my knife. But it was hangin’ up on this,” he said, holding up the arrow he still had clutched in his hand. “Stuck into a goddamn tree like somebody was waitin’ for me to come back for it.”

“That’s strange,” Carol murmured. She took the shaft and examined it, running a finger along the glossy black feathers at the end. Her eyes met Daryl’s, sharp and wary. Her expression was questioning. Daryl shrugged and shook his head. “I ain’t got a clue. I spent the whole day over there, crisscrossing the trails lookin’ for some sign of who was out there and all I was left with was this damn arrow. Not a boot print, not a broken twig, fuckin’ nothin’. ‘S’like it was left by a damn ghost.”

“Why would someone would pin it up for you to find again? Why wouldn’t they just keep it?” she questioned him, handing the arrow shaft back. Daryl shrugged.

“Dunno…” he murmured, twirling it in his hands. He looked around at the afternoon shadows crawling slowly over Hilltop and sighed. “How’re things? Henry?” he drawled, patting Dog’s head absently.

“He’s… doing okay,” she said, smiling. “I think it’s going to take him a little time to find his place here. But Alden and Earl have gotten him started.”

Daryl nodded. “Can’t be easy tryin’ to figure out bein’ ‘round other kids his age for the first time,” Daryl commented.

“No,” Carol said. “But I’m sure he’ll figure it out,” she added with a tight smile.

Daryl looked up as Jesus, Aaron, and Tara were suddenly making their way down the hill toward him and Carol with grim expressions.

“S’matter?” Daryl drawled, fiddling with his bandana absently as they came to a stop in front of him.

“Early this morning, Aaron and I found Rosita collapsed and exhausted out in the woods. She fired a flare. She and Eugene were working on something when walkers came up on them. Eugene’s hurt. She said she left him in a barn and was trying to get here for help. She’s in the infirmary,” Jesus explained.

“Eugene is still out there,” Aaron said, looking at Daryl. “We could really use your tracking skills. I don’t want to risk him spending another night out there.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. ‘Course.” And the three of them, Daryl, Aaron, and Jesus (and Dog) prepared to head out and search for Eugene.

They headed back toward where Aaron and Jesus had found Rosita and Daryl realized it wasn’t far from where he’d shot the deer and forgotten his knife. He pondered this, but didn’t say anything to Jesus or Aaron. He did, however, continue scrutinizing the ground closely for any sign or Eugene or anyone else.

They came to the edge of a large field and Daryl stopped dead. “What the hell?” he drawled. Aaron and Jesus stopped beside him, squinting at a herd in the field moving in concentric circles.

“Have—have either of you ever seen walkers do that before?” Jesus asked. Both Aaron and Daryl shook their heads.

“Never,” Daryl said, his gaze sharp as he studied the swirling horde. “C’mon. We ain’t got long before dark.” He led the way again with Dog out slightly in front. Moving through the woods as silently as possible, Daryl knew they were now very close to where he’d shot the deer. The hair on the back of his neck prickled again and he stopped as a gust of wind suddenly kicked up at their backs. “Stop,” he said suddenly, throwing up a hand. Jesus and Aaron stood still. “I can hear ‘em,” Daryl drawled. “On the wind.”

Straining their hearing, Jesus and Aaron heard the growls on the wind now too. “They’re following,” Aaron said, glancing back. Through the trees, wandering shapes could barely be seen. “Did they see us?” he asked.

Jesus stared at the incoming herd, suspicious and at a loss. “I don’t know. But we better keep moving.” Night had fallen by the time Daryl was able to trace Rosita’s trail back to the barn. They found Eugene huddled in the cellar. He was nearly incoherent, shaking and sweaty. “C’mon. We gotta go, Eugene,” Daryl insisted.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked concernedly as soon as they had hauled him up from the hidden cellar.

“I took a bad step and dislocated my knee,” Eugene said, still shaking.

“Well, if it’s dislocated we can just pop it back in,” Daryl said, his brow furrowed.

“No. No, listen to me,” he argues, wiping sweat from his brow. “The herd that followed us here is on its way back.”

“I saw their tracks,” Daryl drawled, not understanding his frantic tone and his trembling. “They’re gone…”

“No. It’s not. It’s already been through here twice. It’s lookin’ for me,” he insisted. “Eugene—” Jesus started. “No! We have to get out of here before it comes back! This wasn’t a normal run-of-the-mill bunch of wandering dead,” he says in his Texas twang.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, wide-eyed and unsettled by Eugene’s behavior.

He lowered his voice. “When they passed us by, we could hear them—they were whispering to each other.”

Everyone exchanged confused and stunned glances. “You mean they were—talking?” Aaron asked.

Eugene was almost crying he was so frantic. “I know how it sounds! But Rosita heard it too. She’ll corroborate!”

Suddenly, Dog barked. The herd was back and inbound.

Daryl rushed to look out the window. “Shit,” he swore. “They’re gonna cut us off… Look, you two get him outta here. I’ll distract ‘em, lead em away so you can cover some ground. This dun make any damn sense,” Daryl said, pacing the length of the barn.

“They shouldn’t have doubled back like that and they definitely shouldn’t have followed us to the barn,” Jesus agree, shouldering Eugene’s weight with Aaron.

“It ain’t right,” Daryl agreed. “Alrigh’, go. Go! I’ll lead ‘em off. Go! C’mon boy!” Dog rushed after Daryl as the other three made their way slowly in the opposite direction.

Daryl and Dog pounded the pavement as fast as they could until they reached a dilapidated trailer house on the side of the road, not too far from the fork where he’d separated from the others. Daryl hurriedly heaved himself up on the top and withdrew some firecrackers from his bag, flicking his lighter, and lighting the fuse. He tossed them out onto the pavement and they soon were popping and banging with a burst of sound that echoed up and down the lonely road. Dog barked at the herd in the distance and Daryl watched as some of the walkers began to turn toward him and away from the direction of Eugene, Aaron, and Jesus. “Keep ‘em comin’ boy,” he called down to Dog, squinting in the fog and darkness.

All was as it should be at first; the walkers were following the sound. And then suddenly, they weren’t. The ones who had veered off were suddenly pulled back the way they had come as if drawn by some magnetic force correcting their course again. Daryl couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He hurriedly hushed Dog and stared, bewildered and desperate as the horde continued in the direction of his friends.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit!”

Daryl hurriedly slung himself over the edge, hung from the edge and then dropped down onto the ground. Dog ran up beside him. Huddled in the grass, he wondered frantically what to do. He had to get to the others—they wouldn’t know what was coming until it was too late. But how?

“Fuck it,” Daryl muttered, straightening up and dashing across the road into the brush on the other side. He followed parallel to the walkers, trying to get ahead of them so he could reach the others, but it was hard as they walked on the old highway and he had to scramble through windfalls and brambles, Dog bouncing in front of him. He found the path of least resistance suddenly cutting closer and closer to the road and the horde.

Overhead, lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Daryl ducked low in the shadows, eyeing the progress of the walkers, constantly trying to pass them and stay hidden. Soon the developing fog was closing in around him and he could barely see ten feet. Suddenly, Dog let out a low growl and Daryl froze, sensing some mass behind him. His hand twitched to his knife and he withdrew it. He spun and was face to face with a lunging walker, its hands raised and slashing like claws. He struck with his knife and it dropped. Daryl stumbled backward and swung his bow off his shoulder as his back hit the trunk of a large tree. He fired a bolt as another figure emerged from the fog reaching for him. Dog leapt and attacked as another walker stumbled forward. Daryl readied his knife again. They were closing in. He was hemmed in on all sides, the tree at his back, and as he stood, trying to prepare himself, panic threatening to drown him as he faced the certainty of his own death, he did hear the whispers.

Kill. Kill him. Kill. Tear. Rip him apart. Kill.

“Dog! Here! Get back!” Daryl yelled, waiting for the next of the circle of walkers around him to lunge. He watched with confusion as a huge walking, lumbering toward him, was struck by an arrow, seemingly rained down from above. It fell with weight in front of him, tripping up another. Then Daryl was suddenly struck hard on the head by something which then tumbled down over his shoulder.

Distracted, he looked to see a rough-looking rope ladder with wooden steps cascading beside him from out of the tree. Another walker jolted forward, snarling, and Dog clamped down on its head and didn’t stop biting until it lay still. Daryl kicked another back to keep it off Dog. He craned his neck to look up the ladder, up into the huge old oak tree, but he could see nothing high up in the darkness and haze of the fog. There was a sudden moan and snarl and Daryl found himself holding off a walker at arm’s length, grappling with it to keep its snapping jaws away from his neck. There was a sharp swish and a rush of air and the walker he was fighting went suddenly still, an arrow buried in its face. Daryl had half a moment to note that the fletching was black as midnight before it fell at his feet.

More of the dead pressed in. He stabbed two more and another arrow from above pierced the head of a third. He glanced back up at the tree and the dangling ladder. Did he have a choice? He looked back at the circle of walkers pressing ever more closely in. Another couple began to stagger forward. Dog barked frantically, facing them bravely, trying to protect Daryl. No choice. He had no choice. “Dog! C’mon! Up! Get up!” He seized the bottom of the ladder and pulled it slightly out, using all his weight to hold it taught as Dog let out a nervous bark and then ran up it like a ramp at full speed, scrambling a little against the trunk and more vertical steps near the top but finally disappearing into the darkness under the eaves of the tree. Daryl heaved out a final breath, slung his bow across his back and scrambled up after him. He felt fingertips on his ankle and kicked hard to free himself but the grip was strong. Another rush of air and the sharp sound of a passing arrow and the grip disappeared.

He climbed, heart racing, until he arrived at a surprisingly large wooden platform, built in among the thick branches. He spilled onto it and lay flat on his back, trying to catch his breath. Dog surged forward, anxious paws tapping, and licked his face.

Daryl startled as a dark figure moved beside him and quickly heaved the rope ladder up, rolling it into a neat coil and dropping it onto the platform before retreating again to the other side to lean back against a particularly large offshoot of the tree trunk. Daryl hurriedly rolled over and sat up on his knees, squinting into the darkness. Below, the growls and snarls seemed even louder and he could still hear the faintest rustle and hush of whispers woven in among them.

Dog circled and sat beside Daryl, peering with interest at the dark-clad figure. Daryl waited with bated breath for a long time to see if they would speak. They didn’t.

They were set back in shadow and he couldn’t make out much about them at all until lightning burst overhead again and he could barely see that they had on a sort of dark cloak with a hood and clutched a bow in one hand.

There was an increasing roar of crackling and rustling all around him and Daryl realized that it had started raining, but he felt no drops falling on him. Looking upwards, he saw with the next burst of lightning that there was another platform above him. He glanced back down at the figure. They were still unmoving. He watched as they set their bow aside and then raised their hands and pushed back their hood. Another fork of lightning lit the sky.

He gulped. His heart did a strange lurch in his chest. He was staring at you, and you were staring back at him. He was at a loss for anything to say. Below, the growls and snarls went on and on…

You were studying him carefully, your eyes narrowed, lips parted a little and slightly pursed.

He attempted to clear his throat, but it felt tight all of a sudden. “‘M Daryl,” he said, having to nearly yell over the torrent of rain and continued rolling booms of thunder.

You reached for your bow again, not taking your eyes off him.

“I—I think ya just saved my life. And Dog’s too. Well—I know ya did,” he said lamely, trailing off.

Instead of responding, he watched as you slung your bow on one shoulder and then turned and started to climb up the large vertical branch you’d been standing in front of with an agility and speed that was astonishing.

“Wait—hey!” he called after you.

But the tail of your dark cloak was already licking around the platform above and you were gone. Dog trotted over to where you’d been, sniffing and then looking up the branch. He let out a low whine and wagged his tail.

“What the fuck?” Daryl muttered, climbing to his feet and going to stand where you’d been. He examined the tree trunk, half-expecting to find steps or footholds drilled in that allowed you to climb so swiftly but there was nothing but the rough bark of the tree. He ran his fingers over it. He couldn’t imagine how you’d gotten a hold. Another bright burst of lightning shot through the sky and a loud boom of thunder rolled. Daryl backed away from the edge and sank down in the middle of the platform beside his pack and crossbow. He hauled his bow onto his lap, set another bolt in the flight groove, and drew it back so it was ready to fire in a hurry if needed. There he sat, rigid, staring into the darkness around him, Dog at his side.

His heart sank as he thought of Jesus, Aaron, and Eugene. He hoped they were safe. What a massive fucking misadventure this had been. But as he sat clutching his bow, wondering who the fuck you were, why the fuck you’d helped him, where the fuck you’d gone now (up the tree?), his mind did continually wander back to the whispering... He’d heard it. Exactly as Eugene had said. And the herd had behaved unlike any other he’d ever seen. They’d doubled back. They’d ignored the lights and sounds of the firecrackers. They’d rerouted. They seemed to move with purpose. They didn’t just wander. He didn’t know what it meant, why it occurred, but it was terrifying. _ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl awoke with a start when Dog let out a soft woof and he shot upright, grappling for his bow. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially being twenty-five feet in the air, but he had finally succumbed to exhaustion when the storm had passed in the wee hours of the morning. His back was stiff and tight from sleeping on the hard wood and he attempted to stretch to relieve the worst of it but was far too aware of you staring at him.

Now, he was looking back at you in the light of morning where you’d just climbed down on another ladder from the upper platform. This ladder passed through a hole in the platform above and he again remembered how skillfully you’d ascended without it the night before.

You were still dressed in mostly black, but the cloak and hood you’d worn during the night were gone. Along with your bow and a quiver full of arrows, there was a small bag slung across your body and you knelt and slipped it off. You flipped it open and pulled out a thermos and a chunk of crusty bread. You thrust them toward him and he eyed them somewhat warily. You finally just set them down and then stood, shifting your bow and quiver to the side, and leaning back against the tree trunk in the same way you had the night before. You crossed your arms over your chest and surveyed him.

Your eyes were bright and the colors seemed to flash in the morning sun. Daryl gulped and then cautiously reached for the bread and thermos. He unscrewed the top and sniffed its contents. Steam rose up and it was accompanied by an earthy and slightly sweet smell. Hot tea. Tea… in a tree? He was baffled. Did you have a fire up there somewhere? A stove? What the fuck? he thought for the hundredth time in a day’s time.

He looked up at you again and set the thermos aside. His eyes flickered down to your quiver. The feathers of the fletching were all glossy black. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Ya found my knife the other day.” A long beat of silence. You were unreadable. “Why’d ya—hang it back up for me to find?” he asked. “Ya knew I’d come back lookin’?”

Still nothing.

“Were ya watchin’ me out here before?”

Silence.

He was getting slightly annoyed. “Christ, d’ya speak at all or—”

“Yes,” you said suddenly. “I do.”

Now, Daryl’s mouth was hanging partially open.

“But I’m not in the habit of speaking with strangers.”

“Well,” he straightened up a bit, clearing his throat, “’M Daryl. And this is Dog,” he said, ruffling the Malinois’ fur. He waited to see if you’d reciprocate the introduction but you merely shifted a little. Daryl chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

“How’d you get mixed up in that mess last night anyway?” you asked him. You couldn’t help studying his every little movement closely, watching for a microscopic flash that something was off, waiting for him to suddenly reveal himself to be something… dark. But you saw nothing like that. Not yet, anyway. But he was obviously strong, capable. Careful, you cautioned yourself mentally.

Daryl’s stomach turned as he thought again of Eugene and Aaron and Jesus. He scolded himself for not thinking of them until now after waking up. “S’kinda a long story,” he drawled. “I was tryin’ to lead ‘em away from somewhere. Guess it backfired.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Lead them? Of course it went wrong,” you said, looking at him like that was the most obvious thing ever, or maybe more like he was a fucking idiot.

His brow furrowed low over his blue eyes. “What d’ya mean?”

“Well, the shepherds, obviously,” you said, deadpan.

“The—who?”

You straightened up, perplexed as you stared back at him. “The shepherds.” There was no understanding or recognition on his face. “Of the dead.”

Daryl only stared back at you, utterly confused.

You shook your head a little. “Couldn’t you hear them?” you asked him.

Finally, he nodded. “Ya mean the—the whisperin’?”

“Yes. It’s the shepherds,” you said again.

He still looked confused. You sighed and walked over the coiled ladder and nudged it off the edge with your foot. “Come down. I’ll show you.”

Daryl watched you slip down with ease and then glanced at Dog. “Stay, boy,” he said, and he followed more clumsily down the ladder behind you, feeling cautiously with his boots for the next step. He felt overly large and awkward behind you. When he planted his boots back on solid ground again, he was surprised to see the number of dead walkers lying at the base of the tree. You had shot more than he’d noticed the night before in all the chaos. Most had a thick arrow shaft capped with black feathers protruding from its head. You went about collecting your arrows. You paused at the last one and gave him a significant look before rolling it over with your boot so it was facedown. You bent and Daryl moved closer. “Here. See?” You pointed at the back of the head. At first, Daryl didn’t understand what he was supposed to be looking at. You withdrew a knife from your hip with a skillful movement and slipped the blade up the back of the head. It was as you did this that Daryl finally saw the lacing, like a shoelace, on the back of the head.

“What the hell?” he growled.

Once the lacing was cut, you gripped the scraggly hair on the top of the head and tugged. The whole head seemed to come off at first until he realized it was slipping off like a mask. You held it up with a disgusted look on your face for him to see.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he drawled. He turned the body back over and found himself looking at a person. Not one who had ever turned to the undead, but the very human-looking corpse of a person dead from your arrow the night before. He stood up, in slight shock.

You dropped the horrifying mask to the ground. “They wear skins, herd the dead. They walk with them. Control them,” you said. “The shepherds.”

“Why?” Daryl asked.

You didn’t answer, simply stared at him stony-faced, sheathed your knife, stuffed the arrows you’d collected back in your quiver, and climbed the ladder back up into the tree.

As a last thought, Daryl grabbed the mask and crammed it into the inside pocket in his vest. Then, he followed you back up.

Daryl found you sitting at the edge petting Dog when he pulled himself back onto the platform. The bread and thermos were still sitting there in the middle and his hunger reared its head. He grabbed the bread and sank down beside his pack and bow again.

“What d’ya know ‘bout these shepherds?” he asked you again. “These—Whisperers?”

Your eyes flickered up to his face and then back to Dog as you picked a burr out of his coat. “They almost killed you last night. What more do you need to know?”

“Alrigh’…” Daryl drawled, biting off another piece of bread. “Ya ain’t even gonna tell me yer name? Where ya came from?”

Your eyes snapped up to his face again. “You don’t owe me your backstory and I certainly don’t owe you mine,” you said. You stood abruptly as the croak of a raven sounded nearby. “You led that herd right to my tree—”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. “Ain’t like I did that on purpose. I didn’t know somebody was livin’ in a fuckin’ tree—it coulda been any tree in a thousand.”

“But it wasn’t. And I saved your ass—”

Daryl was slightly incredulous. “Ya want another thank you? Or an apology?” he asked, standing.

Your hand reflexively strayed to your knife as he rose to his full height. “And now I’ll have to move—”

Daryl continued to stare at you, baffled. The raven croaked again nearby. “Why the hell did ya even save me and Dog?” he asked.

“Should I not have?” you retorted. Abruptly, you tore your eyes from his face. “I think it’s time you go. I’m sure your people are worried,” you said, patting Dog once more time.

“Hang on—how d’ya know I got people?” Daryl pressed you.

“You have people,” you said.

“Do you have people?” he asked.

You ignored his question. “I can fit a harness on your dog to lower him down,” you said.

“Forget it,” Daryl growled. He shoved what was left of the chunk of bread into his pack and slung it across his back. He shouldered his crossbow. “Thanks for breakfast. Dog. Shoulders, c’mon!”

Daryl bent his knees and Dog propelled himself onto Daryl’s shoulders and balanced there. Daryl was bowed slightly under the weight and you watched, somewhat amazed as he navigated the edge of the platform and climbed the ladder back down. You leaned over and watched Dog jump down. Daryl readied his crossbow in his hands, prepared to set out.

You couldn’t resist having the last word. “Daryl,” you called down. He looked up. “You didn’t thank me, technically, for saving your life.”

Daryl peered up, disbelieving. “Last night, I said—”

“You stated a fact, that I did,” you interrupted. “That isn’t a ‘thank you’.”

He swore under his breath. “Hey, what the hell is your problem?” he growled back.

And for the first time, Daryl saw you smile, and his stomach seemed to somersault in his midsection. Just then, a huge raven swooped in and perched on your shoulder, letting out a raspy noise as a greeting and ruffling its feathers as you scratched beneath its bill affectionately. “Bye, Daryl. Be careful of the shepherds. And I’ll ask that you just go and forget about me.” And with that, you disappeared, and the ladder behind him slowly began to raise as you reeled it back up.

Daryl had seen a lot of shit in his time since the world fell, but this? You? Some mysterious woman living in a tree with a fucking pet raven? What the fuck... This was something else entirely. Forget about you? Not fucking likely.

#daryl dixon x reader series #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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dixons-sunshine · 3 months

Note

daryl and wife reader having a mini 3 year old daryl and shes sassy like her mama also shes really smart and daryl just being the best father and husband to be ❤️❤️

Daddy's Little Girl | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: Life in your little home in Alexandria was amazing. You had a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter you couldn't be more proud of, especially since she brings out parts of your husband you couldn't help but admire.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, post the building of the bridge

Warnings: None.

Word count: 965

A/n: This sucks so bad. I didn't really know where to go with this and scrapped so many attempts, so I'm sorry for the bad quality. I hope this is still somewhat enjoyable at least.

Rick never went missing in this because I'm in my feels after seeing him look for a gift for RJ.

It's not a major plot point, but there are mentions of Rick in this. Also, my default name for any fics involving Daryl having a daughter will be Hazel because I've grown to love the nickname I came up with for my last Dad!Daryl fic, which is Hazelnut.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

“No, Daddy. You can't.”

“'Course I can,” Daryl retorted playfully, taking the purple crayon from his daughter's hand. “Yer not even usin' the crayon, Hazelnut. Yer jus' holdin' it while yer colourin' with the red crayon. I need the purple more than ya do righ' now.”

Hazel huffed and folded her small arms over her chest, sending Daryl her version of a glare that the archer found absolutely adorable and amusing. “Not fair, Daddy. Gonna use it soon.”

“Until then, I'll use it. Once you need it, jus' ask, alrigh'?” Daryl told her, and chuckled when he saw her huff again and reluctantly continue to draw with the red crayon.

Daryl looked up and locked eyes with you, amused smiles on both of your faces. You were seated on the couch with Dog's head resting on your lap, fixing up one of the archer's favourite shirts while he entertained your daughter as she waited for Michonne to come pick her up for a sleepover with RJ. Daryl looked back down at his piece of paper and continued on with his drawing while you continued on with fixing up his shirt.

You silently listened to Hazel's happy babbling, smiling fondly at the father and daughter duo drawing stick figures and shapes. Suddenly, Hazel huffed again and threw the crayon down in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What's wrong, baby?” you asked, glancing at your daughter.

“I don't want to draw anymore,” she declared, crawling over to Daryl and clambering into his lap for a hug.

Daryl instantly dropped the crayon in his hand and embraced her, pulling her into his chest. Hazel nuzzled her face into his neck, giggling at the kisses Daryl placed on her face.

“It tickles, Daddy,” she giggled, bringing her small hands up to his stubble.

Daryl smiled and abruptly stood up with Hazel in his arms, eliciting a yelp of surprise from her that was quickly followed by more laughter. Daryl spun her around while placing more playful kisses all over her face, careful not to drop her. Dog jumped up from the couch with a happy bark, circling around Daryl as he wagged his tail happily.

You laughed at the shrieks of laughter that fell from your daughter's mouth. “Don't drop her, Daryl,” you warned him when he stumbled slightly. You turned your head when you heard a knock on the door.

“Never,” Daryl replied, placing one final kiss on Hazel's cheek before placing her down on the floor. He ruffled her hair before stalking over to the door, you getting up from the couch and trailing behind him.

Daryl opened the door and the two of you came face to face with Michonne, who had RJ perched on her hip. She smiled at the two of you in greeting, rubbing RJ's back soothingly.

“Hey, guys. Is she ready to go?”

Daryl hummed and turned around, calling out to Hazel. “Hazelnut! Auntie Michonne's here!”

You grabbed the sleepover bag that you had placed near the door earlier that day and handed it over to Michonne. Hazel's footsteps got louder until she ran up to you, hugging you before hugging Daryl. She then turned to Michonne and took her outstretched hand.

“Bye, Mama. Bye, Daddy.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Be good for Michonne and Rick, okay?” you greeted her.

She nodded and took off with Michonne, happily conversing with RJ while they walked. You closed the door and locked it, turning around to face Daryl. The archer smiled at you and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

You were confused but soon hugged him back, nuzzling your face into his chest. Daryl placed a soft kiss on the top of your head before resting his chin there, slightly rocking you side to side.

“Not that I'm complaining in the slightest,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss against his chest. “But what's with the hug?”

Daryl remained silent for a moment. “S'jus' 'cause I love ya. And I can't believe how lucky I am to have ya and Hazel in my life.”

“Well, believe it, Dixon. I love you so much. So does daddy's little girl,” you replied, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“I love ya both too. Yer the most important people in my life. I'd die fer ya.”

“Hopefully it never comes down to that. You're dying a very old man if I can help it,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Daryl wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Dun' worry. I ain't plannin' on dyin' on ya anytime soon.”

You smiled at him. “Good to know. That's really good to know.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #norman reedus #norman reedus x you #norman reedus x reader #dad!daryl dixon #dad!daryl

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celtic-crossbow · 5 months

Text

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 14

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; minor discussion of cold symptoms; allusions to prior CA; allusions to prior SA; sexual themes; thoughts of suicide.

When Daryl woke, his head wasn’t pulsing as it had been before he’d given in to rest he so desperately needed. The symptoms were still present but improved. If he wasn’t still so tired, he might have engaged in a bit of self-loathing. How could he let himself get so run down? He had people to protect. He had you to protect.

Drawing in a deep breath, he managed not to cough even when he felt the tickle at the back of his throat. He groaned at the effort of opening his eyes, the pale light on the top of the walls coming from the moon. He had slept all day. Shit. Nothing could be done now, other than maybe offering to take watch from whoever was on duty.

His tired gaze slid back down, stopping abruptly when he found your arm on the mattress, your hand resting on his. He was careful when raising his head to get a look at you. You were curled on your side, head pillowed on your other arm. Had you left him at all?

He watched you sleep until his neck protested the awkward angle and he let his cheek rest against the pillow. Would he be able to slip his hand from underneath yours without waking you? Should he put you on the mattress before he left for the watchtower? Why was everything about his companionship with you a fucking guessing game?

Daryl laid there quite a bit longer, actually trying to go back to sleep, but several things stood in the way of that. He was on the mattress with a pillow and a blanket while you slept on top of the thin sleeping bag on the floor. He was accustomed to sleeping on hard surfaces. He grew up with punishments like being locked in the bathroom for two days, forced to sleep in the grimy tub. When he had taken to the woods at such a young age, the forest floor became his bed.

The more he thought about that, it eventually brought him around to the place from which he had rescued you. You likely had no bed either. The sleeping bag was probably an upgrade from that situation.

Then there was your smaller hand on his. His thoughts were taking a swan dive right into the gutter. He tried to focus on the simplicity of it. You either wanted to comfort him while he was under the weather or you needed the comfort yourself.

Regardless of his efforts, he always ended up imagining pulling you onto the mattress and burying his face between your legs; how you would whimper and whine for more friction but he’d take his time to taste every inch of your pussy. He’d show you how intimacy was supposed to feel. Not pain or fear. He wanted to show you soft touches with heated fingers, whispered reassurances, connecting with someone on a level that would leave you feeling safe and wanted.

He wished like hell he could show you all of that because it was what he needed too.

Your fingers carding through his hair while he slowly rolled his hips into you. Your soft lips on his collarbone, painting a wet, burning trail down to his cock. Your nails gliding up and down his spine while you held him against you afterwards. Your touches would be without judgment when you’d feel the ridges of a scar. You’d kiss each one of them and he’d let you.

When he felt his eyes sting, he turned his face into the pillow. He had to get away from you. He was too deep into the habit of running from feelings triggered by things he could never have. He’d been doing it for as long as he could remember. It kept him safe, kept whatever shriveled mess of a heart he had protected from further damage.

He’d been keeping his distance when he wasn’t training you. He’d wander the fences or skulk out into the woods. And when the desire for you became too strong, he would go into the showers and allow himself to have you in his mind before taking each scene he played out and locking it up tight.

It was when he’d realized that he wanted more from you than your body that he became really ill at ease. He wanted you, as a whole. He wanted to be the one to give back what those cowards had stolen from you. He wanted to see you smile and laugh while knowing he helped bring you there. As much as he wanted it, he was a coward in a different sense. He had nothing to offer you. He was broken beyond repair, too afraid he’d use your fragmented pieces to only patch himself up while leaving you shattered. You deserved so much more than what he could ever hope to give you.

Your fingers twitched against his hand, forcing his self-deprecating thoughts onto the back burner. He rubbed his face against the pillow, afraid of any tears that might have managed to escape. That’d be all you needed. He finally faced you to find you peeking over the edge of the mattress. You were silently blinking at him until you knew he was awake, then you sat up with a smile.

God, he wanted to hear you talk again.

“Hey.” Daryl whispered, voice still rough from the cold he’d brought on himself. You tilted your head and gave him a small wave that took your hand away from him. He found it alarming how much he missed it so quickly.

When you touched him again, it was your palm to his forehead. He knew he was still slightly feverish, could feel it in the slight ache in his joints and the lingering fatigue. The way your mouth turned down just confirmed what he already knew.

“S’jus’ a cold. M’fine.” He waited until you lowered your hand to sit up. He really was okay, aside from feeling like shit. He’d definitely felt worse before and wouldn’t be made an invalid by a silly head cold. “M’ gon’ see if I can help on watch.” Daryl began to slide down the mattress to grab his boots, brought to a stop by your hand on his bicep. You were already shaking your head before he even looked at you. “Told ya m’fine.” His body chose then to betray him with a barking cough. Your frown deepened.

You were a persistent little thing, weren’t you? He watched with something akin to amusement, unable to find a single trace of annoyance, while you crawled onto the mattress and sat back on your knees. You brought your other hand to join the first, tugging lightly but incessantly.

The way you looked at him, big doe eyes shining in the pale light, actually kindled a feeling of guilt at wanting to leave. You shook your head again, appearing frustrated with yourself. It must have felt horrible to be unable to speak. With the way you mouthed the words, it was obvious you were trying. Daryl wished again that he had reached you sooner, that he could have stopped those bastards from touching you. He just couldn’t understand how all of this wasn’t his fault.

You shuffled on your knees to sit next to him, pressing your palm to his forehead, then his chest, and shaking your head. He didn’t need to hear the next word you mouthed to know what it was.

“Please.”

If you wanted him to stay that badly— to rest, he supposed —then he couldn’t deny you. He owed you that much.

“Alrigh’, m’a stay.” You beamed at him, resulting in a fluttering feeling in his stomach that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant. When he realized he was staring, he quickly looked away, somewhere over your shoulder.

You bounced on your knees for a moment and then crawled back toward the edge of the mattress, both actions nearly making the archer groan. He bit the inside of his cheek until the metallic taste of blood coated the side of his tongue. He felt like some horny teenager.

Luckily for him, you spared him from yet another self bashing by flopping onto the sleeping bag. You appeared settled and content but Daryl still wasn’t having it.

“Nuh-uh. If m’gonna stay, ya gotta take the bed.” You sat up, brow drawing inward into what he assumed was your attempt at intimidation. If he wasn't serious about getting you to take the mattress, he might have chuckled. “No arguin’, woman. Take the damn bed.”

You shook your head and crossed your arms for added effect, only making you that much more adorable. A slender finger pointed at him sharply before you made a fist and coughed into it.

“I’ll live. Don’ need no mother hen.” He grumbled. He was two seconds away from scooping you up and depositing you on the mattress himself. Your easily triggered fear was the only thing giving him pause. When you still refused to budge, he made to get up. “Fine. Goin’ ta take watch.”

This time, when you caught his wrist, your bottom lip was out and there was no resisting the half smile that ticked onto his face, albeit briefly. You scowled at him then, sitting back on your heels and tapping your chin. Your finger stilled as your eyes narrowed, staring pointedly at the pillow. Your expression was troubled.

Daryl’s amusement faded. “Hey, wha’s wrong?” He asked quietly. Showing so much concern for someone outside of walker attacks and crazy men with undead battle royales was so new to him. He had never been a comforter. A protector in recent months, sure, but never a comforter. He just didn’t have that quality about him. Yet you continued to pull at threads he didn’t even know were sewn into him.

You shook your head slowly, remaining still for another moment, but then you were moving. Your face was set in a determination Daryl had yet to see from you, leaving him curious. You slid the pillow over and then the blanket before grabbing the edge of the sleeping bag and dragging it up onto the— Shit.

By the time his brain caught up, you were already pointing at him then to the pillow then yourself and to the sleeping bag.

“Ya wan’ us both ta sleep on the bed?”

You nodded, still looking more determined than made sense.

“Nah. No.” There was absolutely no way. He and Carol had shared sleeping areas before but that was Carol, his best friend. He had never used thoughts of her to pleasure himself. Until you, it was an automatic thing. Stress relief, chasing the high, before and the two times after the turn. He didn’t need to imagine anyone. Now, it was always you. “Not a good idea.”

You tilted your head, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You wanted to say something, it was obvious. He could take a stab in the dark as to what it was.

“I know that yer offerin’ somethin’ tha’s hard fer ya n’ I ‘preciate it. Ain’t a good idea.” He hadn’t realized he was rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip until he bit down on the skin. “Think I should jus’ go n’ take watch.” His voice strained on the last word and he coughed. Still, he tried again to get up, only this time, your arms wrapped around him from behind with your cheek pressed between his shoulder blades.

Ah, fuck.

You were trembling. He thought, at first, that it was because you were getting more and more upset. That was probably at least part of it. But then, the most surprising thing.

“Please…stay.”

Daryl inhaled sharply. Your voice was so rough from disuse, the energy it took for you to force out the words must have been draining. You slumped against his back but your grip on the front of his vest held true. You’d finally spoken. And it was for him. Rough or not, it was like a soothing balm straight to his soul.

He loosened your fingers with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed and twisted to get a look at you. Your eyes held a tired resignation. This was your final attempt before you’d give up and he didn’t have the heart to deny you.

“Okay.”

You didn’t smile this time, only giving the smallest dip of your chin in a nod. The archer’s insides were twisting and flipping with emotions he didn’t know how to handle, but he crawled past you pushed the pillow over to the sleeping bag. You didn’t argue. Then he gripped the blanket and moved it further, nearly to the very edge of the small mattress. You’d both have to lie on your sides to fit and it would be much closer than he was comfortable with, but he continued regardless, his mind moving too fast to be able to focus on the anxiety.

You had already laid down before he finally took his spot, thankful that it was close to the wall and he could press himself back a little further. Why he laid down to face you was anyone’s guess. He made a valiant attempt to avoid your gaze until your palm pressed against his forehead again. Why didn’t he flinch away from you? He despised being touched. Nothing made sense. His eyes met yours despite his reluctance, and he could see the relief pooling there. You had been so worried over a cold.

Maybe it was because he’d taken care of you while you recovered. Maybe it was because you wanted to show kindness to prove it hadn’t been taken from you with everything else. Maybe it was because—

He shut the thoughts down, sealed them up tight. Your fingers brushed across his forehead and swept back the fringe that always fell over his face. Maybe he should cut his hair so you wouldn’t feel the need to do that. You drew back your hand and pressed it against your chest, your eyes trying hard to close when you were obviously fighting against it. He turned over, away from you. It felt like his only option, both to ensure you’d sleep and to keep himself in check.

He must have exerted more energy than he’d realized because it was mere moments later when the thoughts ceased and he knew nothing more.

You watched silently as his breaths deepened and evened out. The congestion from the cold gave each breath a wet, smothered sound but he was okay. Truthfully, he wasn’t even very warm. A low grade fever at best but he needed to stay in bed to get over the mild illness. If he pushed himself, you knew it would last longer, maybe even worsen. You couldn’t help but be reminded of being so sick because you were forced to work when you hadn’t felt well. Then you were tossed inside your cage with a pack of several cough suppressants. You had been so close to taking them all and hoping it did you in. Now, you were glad you didn’t.

You would have never met Daryl.

That alone, his friendship, almost made all you’d been through worth all the ugliness. He was enough to encourage you to pull your voice from the confines of your mind and force it over your tongue. It had been both a physical and mental battle and a tremendous effort.

You didn’t remember much before your time under Big Jazz. It was like everything human had been beaten out of you, taken away and placed under lock and key, the latter held by each man that put their hands on you for their own pleasure. Little by little, you were reclaiming those pieces of yourself. You could remember men from before, the ones that broke your heart in a much more humane but still painful way. Normal relationships.

Not one of them looked at you like Daryl did.

The archer hid behind a mask of indifference, but you could see past that, having been the victim of men who were truly complacent to the hurt they caused. Daryl was different. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. There was always a hint of remorse if he raised his voice. Now, he even made the effort to walk away and gather himself before coming back to make it right. He only sometimes apologized verbally, that just wasn’t his nature. But he didn’t need to. His eyes gave him away.

Regardless of the hesitance you still felt toward everyone, it was improving. Even with that gnawing anxiety, you felt drawn to the archer. And when he was close enough, there was a stillness in your soul that you could get lost in. You found you wanted to and that was daunting.

Now that the two of you were settled, you no longer felt tired. You wanted to watch over him, make sure he rested adequately. You wondered if you should go get him some soup and tea like you had planned.

“Daryl?” Carol’s voice carried up the stairs. There was a moment of silence and then the sound of boots on metal. You sat up, your eyes on Daryl, who had yet to stir. He must feel awful if he wasn’t responding to outside stimuli. Once you saw the silver hair, you put your finger to your lips. Carol stopped just shy of the top step when she saw you, her gaze sliding over to the archer and then back to you. A cheeky grin lit up her face.

You pursed your lips in distaste. “No.” You whispered, finding the word harder to say in Carol’s presence. “Sick.” You took a deep breath, calming your suddenly frazzled nerves. The situation between you and Carol was still tense, but you could feel the slight shift, something just naturally healing itself. Maybe it was because you subconsciously knew what happened to you was out of her control.

“Sick? What do you mean sick?” Carol took another step, looking panicked. You held up a hand, absently placing the other on Daryl’s back as if the gesture would coax him into staying asleep. He did. The other woman froze, staring wide-eyed at your hand and a knowing smile replaced the previous grin.

Your hand swiftly retracted. “Cold.” You coughed, verbally communicating felt like it was literally dusting off your vocal cords. “Broth? Tea?”

“I’ll bring you both some. It sounds like you could use it.” She turned and took a step but stopped to look over her shoulder. “It’s nice to hear you talking.” There was a slight jerk as if she started to move and forced herself to wait. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. For what happened to you. I know I… I let you down and—”

“Okay.” You whispered, smiling gently. It was still difficult to believe her words. After all, you clung to them when you first arrived and they shattered in your hands. You tried for a reassuring smile, apparently coming close enough that she returned one and called ‘be right back’ from her descent.

Daryl coughed beside you but didn’t wake. It seemed a shame to wake him for food but he didn’t eat at all the day before. You didn’t know much about caring for a sick person but it was a given that the body needed energy and energy came from nutrition. Maybe it would take Carol a while to find some and the archer could sleep a little longer. He’d slept so much but he must have needed it to not wake as easily as he usually did.

You ended up lying back down beside him and watching him sleep. Watching over him like he had watched over you.

Carol didn’t take long to return. She had found a can of chicken noodle soup, and it wasn’t even expired! She thought anyway. Who knew what the date was anymore? The tea was actually an easier find. Apparently everyone wanted coffee but tea was in abundance. Peppermint tea with as much sugar as could be spared. Bowls and mugs were steaming when she arrived with them. They needed to cool a bit and that gave you time to rouse Daryl slowly.

Or so you thought.

When you shook his shoulder, he bolted up and pressed himself against the wall, grasping for his knife on his thigh, appearing even more feral when he realized it wasn’t there.

“Daryl.” You whispered, both to calm him and because your throat ached. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, not quite awake. You reached for him, palm up, but didn’t touch him. “Safe.”

The shift from panic to confusion to realization was gradual but you waited him out. You knew what nightmares could do, how they could leave you feeling lost from reality in those first few moments if you wake suddenly. You hadn’t realized he’d been dreaming at all, he was so still.

He finally eased down onto his knees, chest still heaving. To your surprise, he hesitantly placed his palm on top of yours for only a second before pulling it back and falling over onto his ass, his back against the wall.

“M’sorry.” He rasped, wiping at his face tiredly. The rough breaths turned into a cough and then a sniff. He didn’t appear to be crying so that one could be chalked up to a runny nose.

“Tea.” You carefully lifted one of the cups and offered it. He accepted with little reluctance, staring into it blankly.

“Yer still takin’.” He croaked, wincing before taking a sip. You hoped it had cooled enough. You received your answer when he hummed appreciatively.

“Yeah.” You took a sip of your own, sighing in relief at the gentle, soothing burn.

“Thought I dreamt it.” He was watching you over the rim of the mug as he tilted it to his lips.

“Dream of me?” You teased, feeling bad when he sputtered and spit back into the cup. Still, you chuckled. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.”

You couldn’t help but notice he didn’t answer. Your stomach fluttered pleasantly, a feeling you remembered from the before. It was both terrifying and relieving. You sat your tea back on the tray and held your hand out for his. The archer took one last sip and relinquished the mug. You traded it for a bowl, giggling when he tried to sniff it but his nose was too stuffy, making him scowl.

“Eat.” You urged, lifting the spoon to your lips. Studying your soup, you could remember your mother making it for you when you were young. Mixing it with water and cooking it until it was all you could smell. You weren’t a fan of the obviously processed meat but the broth was always just what you needed if you were feeling poorly.

You lifted the spoon to your mouth, distracted by a slurping across from you. Your eyes lifted to gaze from beneath your lashes. Daryl had placed the spoon on his lap and was simply drinking the soup from the edge of the bowl. The childlike mannerism had you giggling all over again. You couldn’t remember the last time you had smiled so often. It made your cheeks hurt.

Daryl went still. He lowered the bowl, his face red, his eyes lowered. Had you embarrassed him? It wasn’t something that bothered you. You found it endearing. Yet, you didn’t know how to voice that without shaming him further. So, you did the next most logical thing.

Blue eyes flitted up when you tapped the spoon against the edge of the bowl and then placed the utensil on your lap. Reaching for his bowl, you rested your palm below his hand and pushed for him to lift it. He obliged with a confused frown but then you were taking back your hand and lifting your own bowl, drinking the broth from the edge. You made no noise, where he slurped at his own loudly. The red hue of his cheeks was fading but he wouldn��t look at you.

That was okay because, that way, he didn’t see you smiling from behind your bowl.

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rite4fun · 11 months

Text

long hair, don’t care

rewatching twd series again and i’ve made it to the negan arc and i don’t think i’ll ever get over the “pee pee city” line 😭

with that said, enjoy some fluffy fluff 🤭

••

the lamp casted a yellow hue in the room, the only noise being the light sounds of your footsteps as you got ready for bed and the running water coming from the bathroom.

you’re just settling into bed, a large shirt covering your frame when the door opens and daryl is walking out, towel drying his hair before shaking it out messily.

you admire his glistening broad shoulders and the dip of his waist as he walks to the closet, disappearing for a few seconds before reappearing with just his briefs on. he makes his rounds, checking the door, the window and then the door again before standing near the end of the bed, stretching his arms out and up as he attempts to crack his back. he rolls his shoulders, wincing and grabbing one to massage the sting away.

you frown, lifting the blankets up as you crawl towards him, “come here”

he listens as he sits on the edge, back facing you as you settle onto your knees behind him before resting on your haunches, shuffling closer until his warm body was between your thighs. your fingers dance up his back before pressing down over his shoulders.

you listen to the soft grunts he lets out at your ministrations, rubbing out the tight spots of his body, knowing it will help him sleep better. his hair tickles at your fingers and your eyes take in the wet strands of the back of his head- thinking just how much he hair has grown as the ends are beginning to flip out.

“hairs getting long..” you say it offhandedly, a pure observation of your thoughts but his body tenses in your hands.

“i can get ‘t cut” his voice is timid, insecurity heavy in his tone which only confuses you more.

“i like it” your fingers ruffle the curly strands, your compliment brushed off as he scoffs, “what?” he only shakes his head before dropping it heavily, finding his lap to be more interesting as you scoot more to his side; hoping to get a clue on his change of mood by his facial expression but all you can see is more hair that had fallen into his face at his new position. you reach out, tucking it behind his ear, “what is it?”

he shrugs, a flush high on his cheeks in embarrassment as he purses his lips, opening his mouth before shutting it again; seemingly stuck in some internal battle of lying or telling you just what was on his mind. you wait patiently, hand rubbing soothingly over his back as you scoot closer to him and pressing a reassuring kiss to his arm. leaning away, you catch a glimpse of the soft smile he attempts to bite back before it’s gone and he is back to chewing on his lips.

you don’t bother pushing anymore, prepared for him to get up and finish getting ready for bed but then he takes a deep breath, “merle..” he shakes his head again, “he used ta make fun of me- would say i looked.. gay”

it’s takes you a second to think of a response, knowing that if you took too long, he’d read too much into it and shy away again at opening himself up to you, “hm.. you like it long?” instead of focusing on the negative- you decide to redirect, hoping he’d voice his honest opinion on the matter but all you get is another shrug, “well i think you look very sexy with long hair”

he finally looks to you, fully expecting you to be making a joke of him but you only smile softly with a hint of mischief, “stop”

“i do!” you defend yourself with a soft laugh as he dismisses your flirting. you lean closer to his face, hand going back into his locks to playfully tug at it, “can get a nice.. good.. grip when i want too, especially when you-“

“tha’s ‘nough” his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into him as you giggle into his chest.

“i wasn’t finished!” you squeal as he lifts your body into his arms, tossing you lightly back onto the bed before climbing over you; his heavy warm body pressing yours further into the mattress. his hair drapes like a curtain over both your faces and you reach up, twirling a piece along your finger, “i mean it. i like it long. short too.. whatever you want, i’ll still love you” the sentiment is sweet and daryl softens at it, “it might take time to get used too but if you wanted to shave your head-“

“alrigh’” he rolls his eyes, shoving his face into your neck and biting playfully at your collarbone; the tickling of his scruffy chin against your soft skin, sending you into a fit of giggles.

he smiles at the sound before pressing kisses along the area, gratitude filling him to his core at being so lucky to be with someone like you.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader fic #norman reedus #the walking dead #twd x reader #daryldixon #fluff #rite4fun

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 8 months

Text

close to home | chapter seventy four

plot: the return of the whisperers sends the reader into a spiral

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,872 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: enjoy the next chapter lovelies

Josie was giggling wildly as you blew raspberries into her stomach. The four-month-old baby sitting on your lap had blossomed into one of the most giggly babies, and you couldn’t resist tickling her or making her laugh somehow.

You smiled down at your daughter’s beautiful face before you scooped her up and pressed kisses on her fuzzy little head. Her hair was as dark as her daddy’s, with eyes as blue as the ocean not fifty yards from you.

“Ya ready?” Daryl asked from behind you.

You nodded and handed him Josie and watched his delicate touch. He gently bounced her up and down and kissed her cheek, only making her giggle even more. Which made Daryl smile so wide it made your heart flutter.

“I’m glad we brought her.” You leaned against the dresser. “I’m glad we brought all the kids.”

“Me too,” Daryl agreed quietly, focusing on his daughter. “We gonna have to bring her back lots so she can see the ocean.”

You grabbed your metal bow and ran your hands along the two names Daryl transcribed. Daryl Dixon and Josie Dixon, one on each limb of the bow. So, the two of you always knew what you were fighting to get home to.

“I’m excited to finally get to use this,” You shouldered the quiver and the bow. “Even though I’ve been practicing since you got it for me, killing walkers over the fence is not the same.”

Daryl didn’t answer you, and you looked over at him. He was too engrossed with Josie, playing with her in his arms. “Earth to Dixon. We got places to be.” You teased.

“How ‘bout ya go out there and I stay here?”

You snorted and walked over to him. “How about we both stay here?”

Daryl was about to agree to that when you both heard Michonne calling for you. He sighed loudly and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Can’ ever get a damn minute.”

“Come on, old man. We got people to train. Let’s drop Josie off with the other kids and get going.”

***

You walked alongside Judith and Michonne, the bow heavy in your hands. You weren’t using it as an archery weapon today. You were using it as a sword. With the tips as blades, you needed more practice hand-to-hand with it than with an arrow. Which is what you’d been doing since arriving at Oceanside a few days ago.

So you walked with Michonne and Judith as Aaron called out formations and made calls. You glanced around at all the faces you rarely got to see. Most of them needed training to deal with walkers, and if the whisperers did return, they needed it for them, too. They needed to practice fighting in a group, in formations.

It reminded you of simpler times back at the prison.

Michonne called out for the hand-to-hand combat, and you followed her through the opening in the ranks toward the steady flow of walkers. You could feel Daryl’s eyes on you, ensuring you were okay.

The first walker you approached was gnarly. It was blotted with seawater, and its skin seemed like it was almost melting off. Seaweed was curled into openings in its body.

You grimaced as you twirled the bow in your hand before striking. With one sweep, the tip of the bow cut its head in two, and its body dropped. You spun around, ducking as another walker reached for you. With a swift kick to its back, it dropped. You grabbed your machete, tossing it in the air to catch it on a good angle, and brought it down into its skull.

When you heard Michonne yelling, you looked up to see Jerry and Ezekiel moving away from the door to the boat. Within a second, the door and the wall itself fell, and a dozen walkers poured out.

You smiled.

Formations were made as the training group launched an organized attack. You brought down walker after walker using the blade of the arrow. Each time it cut through a water-logged skull, you felt your adrenaline rush. Each twirl of your body, each pull and push. You felt more alive than you had in months, finally outside the walls of Alexandria.

You, Michonne, and Daryl took care of the outliers while the main group took on a majority of the walkers. So when they were all dead, everyone was breathing easier.

“That was actually fun,” You said as you approached Daryl.

“Ya sick sometimes, ya know that?” Daryl said to you as you washed the tips of your bow off in the waves. “Ya say the craziest shit sometimes.”

You laughed and slung the bow over your shoulder. “I’ve been locked away for months. This is the first time I’ve been out of Alexandria. Let me have my fun.”

Daryl swung his arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple. “Uh-huh, let’s just hope our daughter ain’ inherit ya psychopath genes.”

***

You were standing barefoot in the water with Josie on your hips, watching your friends pull in nets of fish. Kelly and Connie were among them, and you waited impatiently to speak to them. Something was off with Kelly, but you weren’t sure what it was. And Connie signed too quickly for you to understand. They arrived this morning, and you hadn’t had the opportunity to say hi to them.

But finally, she noticed you and the sisters walked over. Connie immediately cooed over Josie, and you were more than happy to let her hold your daughter for a while.

I’ve been working on my signing. Needed something to keep me from going crazy, you signed.

Connie gave you a surprised look. Damn, I finally see you again and you had your baby and are signing better? All I’ve done is garden.

You and Kelly shared a laugh, and she spoke as she signed. “Looks like you learned quite a bit. We heard her name is Josephine?”

“Josie for short. She’s four months old, happy, and healthy.” You said, your hands moving quickly so Connie could understand.

The three of you started talking about the mask Judith found earlier and the few search groups that went out to see if they could find anything. You all seemed worried, but you tried to reassure them that, hopefully, it was just the storm that brought it in. Still, with your luck, you doubted it.

Eventually, Daryl found you, and Kelly and Connie had to go back to work. So you soon stood smiling at Daryl while he held Josie.

“Carol don’ seem right,” Daryl said, his voice low. “Imma take her out and talk to her away from everyone. Wanna make sure she’s good. Ya gonna be okay here?”

You gave him a look and took Josie from his as he passed her on. “Yes, I think I will be perfectly fine, surrounded by all our friends. Go. Make sure she’s okay. She’s been on that boat since before the summer started.”

Daryl kissed the top of Josie’s head and then yours. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I’ll save you a dirty diaper.”

Daryl gave you a look as he walked away, and you laughed quietly and looked at your baby. “What do ya say, sweet girl? We save daddy a dirty diaper. Mommy doesn’t need to clean anymore ever again.”

Of course, the four-month-old only tried to grab your nose as a response, but you smiled regardless. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you fed, sweet girl.”

***

“(Y/N), where do babies come from?”

You looked up from a feeding Josie to see Judith staring at you with that quizzical look she had. It reminded you of her older brother. You cleared your suddenly dry throat. “Why are you asking about that?”

“Well, you and Daryl had a baby. And Michonne had a baby with Dad. I just wanted to know.”

You bit your lip as you switched Josie around. Judith had seen you breastfeed a million times by now because she wanted to know everything about everything. Still, you kept yourself covered. “Well, when two people love each other and decide together that they want to have a baby, they have to, um, have a special type of hug.”

Judith gave you that look that told you she wasn’t buying a word.

“Look, babe,” You said, “Why don’t you ask your mom this question, okay? I think she would much rather have this conversation.”

“But I wanna-.”

“Jude,” You gave her a warning tone. “I know you’re curious, and I love that about you, but right now, I’m trying to feed Josie. Do you wanna stay and talk about something much more interesting?”

She smiled and sat down on the couch next to you. “Can you tell me a story about me? About when I was a baby?”

You hummed as Josie finished, and you could finally start burping her. You stood up to do so, gently rocking her. “A story about when you were a baby. Okay, well, let’s see… did I ever tell you about what happened after we lost the prison?”

She shook her head.

“Well, I was with your aunt Carol and an old friend named Tyreese. We managed to get you out when you were probably about Josie’s age, maybe a little older. And we were on the road with you for days, missy.” You glanced at Judith, who was smiling.

“I bet I made lots of noise.”

“You sure did,” You smiled at the memories from so long ago. Had it really been so long? “But we kept you safe. And then we found our family and brought you back to your dad and brother.”

“Is that why mom used to let you take me outside the walls? Because you’ve taken care of me for so long?”

“Probably.” You said. Technically, you knew Judith longer than Michonne did. But you didn’t need to tell Judith that. Instead, you settled with a nicer version. “I’ve been caring for you your whole life, babe.”

Judith smiled and came over to you. She tickled Josie’s foot and looked up at you. “Just like you will for Josie. And I’ll watch over her, too.”

You chuckled and cupped her cheek. “Exactly. Now go find RJ and play, okay?”

***

An hour later, most of the scouting parties were back. Daryl was still off with Carol, but you weren’t worried about the two of them. Nothing could bring down those two. You’d told Michonne about Judith’s questions, who seemed less than thrilled.

You had just settled Josie in at Oceanside’s mini daycare for all the community's children when a bang louder than an explosion came from above, and you watched with wide eyes as something burned its way into the atmosphere.

“(Y/N)!”

You quickly grabbed Josie again and went to Michonne and the kids. Before you could even try processing what had happened, Eugene was calling from Alexandria with an urgent message, so you all ushered to the radio to listen to him rattle on about forest fires and tell Michonne we needed all communities pitching in.

Oceanside was a scramble as you and Michonne barked out orders. Groups were divided up, and water was getting geared up.

You were in the middle of talking to Connie when Daryl came to you. “We gotta get Josie with the other kids. Ya gonna stay with her?”

You shook your head and looked at the dark clouds of smoke a few miles west in the sky. “No. We need every hand we can get. There are enough people staying back to watch the community and kids. Judith will look after Josie.”

Daryl nodded and took the baby from your hands. “I’ll drop her off, I heard Michonne yellin’ for ya.”

You kissed your daughter’s head briefly before telling Daryl you’d meet him with the rest of the prepping community.

It killed you to leave your daughter because you hadn’t really left her since she was born four months ago. But the fire was important. So you looked back for only a second to see Daryl getting her settled with the rest of the kids, and then you went to find Michonne.

***

It was well into nighttime when the community got to the fire, and you worked tirelessly alongside Daryl and Michonne to get the gear out. You helped Daryl get the makeshift water tank on his back, and then he helped you into yours.

When you got the fire, you felt like passing out. It had already spread decently and was climbing up several trees. You looked up at Daryl, who seemed just as worried as you. And it didn’t help that you were in Alpha’s territory.

“Daryl…” You said.

He glanced down at you, and you could see the sweat on his face already. You knew yours matched. “Let’s just stay close, okay? Don’ need to be worryin’ ‘bout ya.”

You didn’t argue because you felt the same.

So you and he worked on the south side of the fire with Cyndie and a few other women from Oceanside, spraying water and hitting it with mopes as fast as you could. It seemed like nothing you did was helping, and the smoke was making you feel sick. You only paused to get more water, and when Daryl made you put on his handkerchief to keep from inhaling too much smoke.

Everyone worked until the sun rose, and still, the fire was blazing. That was also when more walkers started showing up. Someone wheeled over the cart of weapons, and you handed Daryl his crossbow and then grabbed yours.

You’d only taken down a few when more trickled out of the woods, and you knew it would be overrun. When they got too close, Daryl grabbed an ax, and you watched him take out the closest one to you.

Then you spun the bow in your hand and stepped forward, taking out two with the blades within thirty seconds. You heard a commotion from behind you, and you glanced quickly to see the team that was supposed to be digging the trenches join you. And behind them were Alexandrians.

You sighed with relief as another walker approached you. You kicked it away from you, and it stumbled backward until it fell, and then Daryl sunk the ax into its skull.

That was right when the walkers caught fire, and you shook your head. “Daryl, we need to go. Now!” You yelled over the noise.

He glanced between you and the incoming walkers and then ran toward you, pushing you forward. When you caught up to everyone else, you grabbed another arrow and joined the firing team while Daryl worked at bringing a tree down.

It could’ve been hours before the last walker dropped, and everyone got back to work on the fire. It probably was another few hours before the fire was finally out, and you collapsed in exhaustion next to a tree. Yumiko, who you’d been working with, sat next to you and offered you her water bottle.

“Thanks,” You mumbled before taking a sip. “What a shit fucking day.”

***

After the fire, you, Daryl, and Josie went home. The both of you definitely had breathed in too much smoke, and it took a few days to breathe better. And getting Josie home was a top priority for you and him. You didn’t need to be there if more walkers were drawn out. You were confident that Oceanside and the fighters from the other communities that stayed could handle it.

Besides, your top priority was Josie. It wasn’t Oceanside. No matter how hard of a pill that was to swallow.

Even when she woke you and Daryl up at dawn for a feeding.

You were sitting at the kitchen table as you fed her and watched Daryl stumble around the kitchen tiredly. He was still in his sleeping clothes, as you were, and you stared at him when the bottom of his shirt exposed his stomach when he reached up to grab something from the top cabinet.

Then he returned to making you both something to eat, and you looked down at your daughter. She was nearly finished, and you couldn’t wait to set her down. Your back was aching. You hated breastfeeding.

“Ya want an apple with ya food?”

You glanced up at your husband and nodded. “Thanks.”

Josie finally finished, and Daryl took her to burp her so you could eat. You rested your head in an open palm as you did, nearly falling asleep in the bowl of oats. But then Daryl was sitting by your side, putting Josie in the playpen in the living room and shaking your shoulder.

“Ya okay?”

You nodded and leaned your head against his broad shoulder. “Tired.”

“Well, eat. It’ll make ya feel better.” He gave you a sliced apple.

“You’re always trying to feed me,” You complained before biting into it.

Daryl grunted but didn’t say anything as he ate. The two of you finished eating in one of the comfortable silences you loved so much, and you kept looking at your husband occasionally. He’d changed so much since his brother’s death. Not that you didn’t admire him before. This new Daryl was something else. He’d taken on such a leadership role, and he did so much for the community and for you.

In a wave of appreciation, you moved from your chair to sit on his lap. He looked at you with tired eyes, but his arms wrapped around you tightly as you leaned down to kiss him deeply. “God, I love you so much,” You mumbled against his lips.

His fingers squeezed your waist, bunching up your nightshirt, and you could feel his fingernails digging into your skin. “We should go upstairs so ya can show me just how much ya love me,” He said.

“How about I get on my knees and suck your dick right now?” You whispered before biting down on his lip.

Before he could reply, you heard the front door burst open, and you immediately jumped off his lap. Michonne walked quickly into the room with a look on her face that made your stomach drop.

“Walkers.”

***

Forty-nine hours later, blood sprayed on your face as you blood your bow blades from a walker's skull. Your head spun as you did so, nearly losing your balance. You’d been at this for two days, and waves of walkers kept coming. You’d already been outside the walls several times with the parties sent out, and you weren’t sure how long you could take it.

Daryl stood a few feet from you, his own knife embedding a walker. When it was dead on the spikes, he came over to you. He looked you up and down and sighed loudly.

This last wave was the biggest, and you sat on the curb to drink some water and eat food that someone had brought over. You hadn’t been home in a few hours, and you only went to check on the kids. You felt terrible leaving Judith in charge of Josie, but it was the safest thing to do right now.

“Daryl,” You called out weakly, and handed him your water when he came over. He took a long sip and then you made him eat something.

“Another wave, thirty minutes out.” You heard someone yell.

You wanted to cry.

Daryl sat down next to you and chewed on his fingernails. You could see how angry he was. You would be, too, if you weren’t exhausted. And the sun beating down on you didn’t help.

Your husband glanced at you and used his thumb to wipe away blood on your forehead. “Ya lookin’ real beautiful, ya know.”

You snorted and shoved your shoulder into his. “Shut up.”

You heard someone yell that a freak was approaching, and both you and Daryl ran back over to the gates. You stood beside Rosita as you watched one of those masked freaks approach the gate, and you heard someone call for Michonne.

“Fuck me,” You muttered.

***

Your hands were shaking as you left the community hall. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Like a hand was wrapped around your throat. Your body was trembling, and you felt like you were going to throw up. No. You didn’t feel like you were. You knew you would.

You’d barely made it to the grass yard behind the community before you lost whatever food and water you had in your stomach. Your body was shaking worse as you knelt on the ground.

“(Y/N).” You shut your eyes when you heard Daryl’s voice, and then you felt his hand on your back. “Take a deep breath, darlin’.”

“You can’t go,” You choked out, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and looking at him. His face was blurry through your tears. “Please don’t go. Please don’t.”

“Ya know I have to,”

Your heart was beating wildly and you felt a deep pit of desperation settle in your heart. “No. No. Please don’t go. Please. I can’t have you go out there, not after what happened. Please don’t go, Daryl,” You sobbed, reaching for his hands.

“(Y/N)...”

You shook your head. “Please don’t go. Please.” You gripped his hands tight. “No. I’m your wife, and I’m telling you no. She wanted you dead for what happened. She tortured me 'cause she couldn’t kill you. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose you,” You were hysterical.

“Okay, okay…” Daryl breathed out, wrapping you in a hug. “Okay. I won’t go. I won’t go, baby girl.” His hand ran down the back of your head as you pressed your soaked cheek on his chest.

“Don’t go…” You sobbed, “Don’t go…”

***

Twenty minutes later, you were passed out from exhaustion and your panic attack. Daryl was standing above you, holding Josie in his arms. He was worried about you. He felt sick over it. He’d never seen you like that--begging him not to do something for the community. You always knew how important the safety of the community was. It was something the two of you had in common.

But things were different now. Daryl had a wife and a four-month-old daughter. You and Josie were more important than anything or anyone.

So when Michonne came to tell him it was time to leave, he backed out. She was surprised but understood and instead asked him to help Gabriel look after the community.

Instead, he sat inside the house, kept an eye on you, and cared for Josie. Gabriel would be able to handle it. He’d have to. Daryl had to look after you.

***

You woke up before Daryl thought you would, and he’d been holding a sleeping Josie when you raised your head in panic to look for him. Relief filled you.

“You didn’t go?”

“I told ya I wouldn’t,” Daryl said.

You nodded and stood up. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “Ya don’t gotta be sorry ‘bout anythin’, baby girl.”

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd #daryl twd #daryl dixon #daryl x you

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rwateringcan03 · 4 months

Note

Hi, could I request a lee!reader ler!daryl when the reader is very shy? Thank you!

Hi! Yes of course! I hope you enjoy :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was setting over the Georgia skyline as you and Daryl Dixon walked through the abandoned bushy streets. The air was heavy with tension as you moved cautiously, the sound of walkers echoing in the distance. Daryl's crossbow was slung over his shoulder, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of safety knowing that Daryl was by your side.

As you carefully made your way through the streets, you couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. Daryl noticed and gave a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder, a small, comforting gesture that made you feel a little less afraid.

"Y'okay?" Daryl murmured, his voice soft but gruff.

You nodded shyly, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to silently calm your nerves. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just a little on edge, y'know?"

Daryl nodded in understanding, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any danger. "Don't worry, I got ya," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

As you continued on your journey back to Alexandria, you still couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness. Daryl must have sensed it, because he suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to face you.

"Hey, come 'ere," he said, reaching out to pull you into a tight embrace. You let out a shaky breath and buried your face in Daryl's shoulder, taking comfort in the warmth of his arms.

For a moment, everything felt okay. You were just two people in a world that had gone to hell, finding solace in each other's presence. But then, as Daryl pulled away, his fingers brushed against your sides. You let out a small giggle, shyly covering your grin with your hand.

"What's got ya grinnin'?" he asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Your cheeks flushed pink, embarrassment washing over you as you tried to hide your smile. "N-nothing. Just-"

But before you could finish your sentence, Daryl reached out experimentally, tickling your sides.

He knew.

You let out an adorable squeal of laughter, desperately trying to squirm away from his touch. But daryl only grinned. He dropped his crossbow, it making a thud as it hit the ground. He wrapped his arms around you, this time in a strong bear hug, using his free hand to scribble all over your belly.

"AHAHAHAAA DAHAHAHARYL STAHAHAP!" You squealed, struggling to break free from his grasp.

Daryl held you firmly in place, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yer ticklish, ain't ya?" he teased, his fingers dancing over your sensitive sides and belly.

Your laughter mingled with helpless whines, laughing and squirming uncontrollably.

"DAHARYL PLEASE STAHAHAAHAHAA!"

But Daryl didn't let up, his fingers relentless as he continued to tickle you, your laughter echoing through the empty streets. Your cheeks were flushed as you tried to catch your breath, your sides and stomach aching from the relentless assault of Daryl's fingers.

Finally, Daryl relented, letting you catch your breath. Your knees buckled and you layed on your back on the concrete, giggling tiredly. Daryl lay beside you, giving you a playful nudge.

"Jesus," you panted, your cheeks still pink from embarrassment. "You're relentless."

Daryl chuckled, a rare grin on his face. "Y'needed that. Lighten up a bit, darlin'," he said, his voice soft and light as he now gazed up at the sky.

You couldn't help but smile, the warmth in Daryl's eyes melting away your nerves and insecurities. You and daryl layed on the cool concrete, before making your way back home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#tickle commissions #the walking dead #twd #ticklefics #tickle blog #daryl dixon #daryl x reader

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raz-writes-the-thing · 8 months

Text

Suds (Negan Drabble)

Negan x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: You invite Negan to come shower with you.

CW: implied smut, groping, vague angst, fluff this is really mostly soft

TWD tag list: @nervoussystemss (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

It’s days like this, where Negan is tired and exhausted and just so very drained that you fall in love that much more with him. He puts on that facade all day every day. It only makes sense that eventually, he’s going to burn himself out and when he does, you’re there. Always.

Usually, when he’s like this, he can let you take control and just sit back and relax for you. Whether that be sexually, or just in terms of what the two of you planned to do that night. But tonight none of your usual tactics were working overly efficiently today.

“Come on,” you say, standing up from the sofa and holding your hand out for the man to take. He looks between your hand and your face, arching a brow in interest. You chuckle, and swat at his shoulder. “Maybe later. Come have a shower with me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows and stands, reaching for your sides to tickle you. You shriek and jump out of the way, darting for the bathroom. Negan stretches with a chuckle before retrieving some clean comfortable clothes for the both of you and following in your footsteps.

By the time he emerges in the doorway of the bathroom, you have the water on. It’s practically scalding- just the way you like it. He wrinkles his nose and tosses the clean clothes onto the closed toilet lid.

“So, let me get this straight,” Negan says, stripping his shirt off over the top of his head. “You’re inviting me to shower with you- but we’re not fucking?”

You roll your eyes and pull the last of your undergarments off, testing the water temperature before stepping inside.

“Because looking like that? Damn, babydoll- I’m just not sure if I can keep my hands to myself.”

Negan pulls his pants down off his legs and groans when the warm water hits his skin when he hops in behind you. It must be instant relief for him after the week he’s had.

“I’m not saying I’m not interested,” you say, kissing his shoulder as you encourage him to spin around to face away from you. “Just maybe a bit later. We’re both tired, love.”

Negan hums, not able to fight with you on that.

You squeeze a dollop of shampoo into your hands and lather it up before asking him to lean down for you. He chuckles but does as he’s asked for once, and you lather the shampoo into his hair. Negan groans as you massage his scalp and wash the oils and dirt away.

When you’re done and he’s washed the shampoo away, he turns around and captures you in a deep kiss. The water washes over you as he pushes you into the wall. Negan crowds into your space, running his hands over your hips, squeezing at your arse and groping at you, causing heat to flare in your gut.

You gasp into the kiss and Negan pulls away, grinning that predatory smile.

“See, that’s better,” he drawls, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Not so tired after all, huh? Pass me that soap, would you?”

You reach for the shower gel and hand it to the forbearing man in front of you. Negan pops the lid and squeezes some into his hand. This is one of his favourite things, you’ve noticed. Getting to wash you, soap you up and get you all sudsy like someone in those old magazines that used to hang up in mechanics' offices all over the world.

He’s surprisingly methodical about it, making sure to get at every exposed bit of your skin. He enjoys washing away the muck and the dirt, leaving you pristine and shiny clean.

And when he gets to the apex of your thighs and finds himself paying much closer attention to the area than strictly necessary to simply wash you, well, who are you to complain?

Especially when it leads to having him inside you, as it always does. Negan’s right.

He just can’t help himself when it comes to you.

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whateverisbeautiful · 4 months

Text

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#16: It's For You (S4E09)

This blog has always been a place to focus on whatever is beautiful about Richonne and truly the best word to describe this moment here is beautiful. And masterfully done. I adore this scene and, while we don’t even see Richonne interact, we do get to see the telling and joyous way they both react to each other. It’s a precious visual of how much they already mean to each other at this point. Their connection is one of a kind, and I love how Rick and Michonne's pre-canon moments are still so romantic, like in this ep here where TWD really gets the storytelling of it all exactly right...

After a really well-done episode getting to see where Michonne, Carl, and Rick are at after the fall of the prison, I adore that "After" ends with magnets finding their way back to each other.

I’ll forever be glad that when splitting up team family, it’s Rick, Carl, and Michonne who got to spend this time traveling and bonding together as the show’s golden trio. I’m telling you, the universe knew Rick and Michonne were not meant to be split up for long.

So first, I’m already just feeling so proud of Michonne that after reflecting on the tragedy from her past she decided she’s not going to return to that numbing lone wolf state and instead, she’s going to follow the footsteps that lead her to her family.

And then she finds them because sis always finds what she’s looking for, be it a prison, a savior outpost, or Rick when she eventually finds him in TOWL. 👏🏽

And without words, Danai so stunningly conveys how elated Michonne is to look through that window and see Rick and Carl eating side by side.

Her boys are so cute in that living room, and after their spats throughout the episode, it’s nice to see Rick and Carl finally having a peaceful moment together.

The choreography of this whole thing is great with Michonne reaching for her sword and then releasing it when she sees them. It's symbolic to her knowing that she’s found the ones she can most let her guard down with. She found her family. 🥰

The way Michonne sheds tears and smiles and has that emotional little laugh just upon seeing them. Beautiful. 🥹 She even looks up to the sky - cuz she knows the universe was on her side with this one.

Rick and Carl mean so much to her, and at this moment you know she knows it. Finding Rick and Carl specifically has to be so rewarding because, as we saw at the prison, they were who she was starting to get closest to.

It’s also really cute and even playful almost that she knocks as this way to sorta surprise them. She could’ve just said it’s her or whatever but this way is so much better. I know deep down she knows they’re about to be stoked to see her, cuz those Grimes boys always light up when she’s around. 😊

So then just like we got to see Michonne’s beautiful raw reaction to Rick and Carl, we also get to see Rick’s unfiltered elated reaction to seeing Michonne and it is such a heartwarming thing.

Let me tell you, Michonne breathes life into that man so effortlessly. Just the sight of her on the other side of that door seemed to have Rick feeling a bit less tore up from the floor up.

And I will always love that Rick can be a little extra when it comes to Michonne so he looks out the peephole and sees her and can’t help but make it a whole moment as he takes a breath, slides down to the couch, and starts laughing with that smile only Michonne can bring out of him. It’s the absolute best. 😊♥️

Like homeboy can barely breathe, but he’s still gonna have a tickled pink reaction to knowing his crush and his son's bestie found them lol. Who else is making Rick Grimes giddy like this? No one but Michonne, honey.

And Carl is like, alright my dad is being extra so what is this about. I low-key thought Rick was about to tell Carl...

lol. But Rick instead says something even better as the scene ends with one of my favorite endings to an episode of TWD.

Because Rick looks up at Carl with a smile and then perfectly says, “It’s for you.”

I will forever love this line. 😍 Like it’s so good and Andy’s delivery is flawless. I love that Rick knows the bond Carl and Michonne have, and he knows how excited Carl will be to open that door and see her.

And while the line indicates it's for Carl, Rick's pleased reaction says this is absolutely for him too. And truly it feels like Michonne’s return to their life is deliberately for them and for her because they all need each other so much. Seeing her is a certifiable W, and Rick knows it.

Watching Rick and Michonne’s separate reactions to each other just made it so clear they have something special between them. And I know these reactions were specifically because of the three of them, more so than it being about finding just anyone in tf.

Rick, Michonne, and Carl were always meant to be family, and moments like this confirm it.

This whole moment was screaming romantic, y'all. Like how lucky are we that Richonne’s story features so many heartfelt and swoon-worthy moments, both pre and post-canon.

Also, I was thinking about something...Back when season 4 was airing, Richonne fans who were far keener than I at the time knew moments like this "it's for you" one were planting the seeds of a Richonne romance. This then prompted other TWD fans to mock and grumble that Richonners think the show is a love story.

And no The Walking Dead is not a romance, but best believe once Rick met Michonne, a powerful and significant love story began to unfold and became central to why Rick Grimes, TWD's main character, fought to keep going. After all, what are any of these characters fighting to live for, if not the love they have in that world?

This is why I'll always stand by the fact that Rick and Michonne's love is important to the plot. And hey, look how far we've come from dealing with grumblings about us thinking TWD is a love story to now Rick and Michonne's final TWD chapter being officially (and repeatedly 🙌🏽) declared an "epic love story " with TOWL. Looks like those early Richonners were onto something huh 😋

And it's precious moments like this "it's for you" one that add such a heartfelt element to Rick and Michonne's slow burn and love story. It is just such a special scene and I get why Andy said it's one of his favorite endings to a TWD episode.

I love the quietness of this scene, the emotion of it, the kismet aspect of Rick and Michonne finding each other and being joyous when they do. What a beautiful ending to an excellent episode and a refreshing step forward in the making of Richonne. 😌

#richonne #top 30 #number 16 #rick x michonne #twd 4.09 #reveling in richonne #twd towl #the ones who live

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