#daryl dixon x ofc

[lady-phasma]

Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 1 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Kinda Friends to Lovers, Bathing/Washing, Awkward Flirting, Not Canon Compliant, No PTSD in chapter 1 (mentions of past abuse in later chapters), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, Fingering, Choking, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: Making friends in Alexandria is easier than on the road, which also means friendships can evolve and become something more if the connection is there. There's definitely a connection. Non-canon compliant because I don't ship him with Leah. (I think this is my longest fic, probably because this has been cooking for the full 11 years of TWD.) No beta. 9k words.

Daryl opened the door to the small “apartment” he lived in. Not really an apartment as much as the finished basement of one of the original surviving homes. Dog ran in first, pushing past his legs before the door could open fully. He watched as Dog started licking and nuzzling something on the couch. Dog wasn’t warning him but Daryl was always cautious and set his crossbow down gently as he closed the door and grabbed his knife from his belt all in one swift movement.

No one in Alexandria locked their doors, most of them probably didn’t have the keys to the houses anymore if they had ever had them at all. That meant that people didn’t trespass either. It was an unspoken rule made from mutual respect. Even in the faint light coming through the curtained garden windows he could tell this was a someone just not who. He started to relax a little but still held his knife as he turned on a lantern. Dog whined as the head on the couch turned and sniffed and groaned.

“Tha hell,” Daryl almost yelled it. “Dog, sit! What tha hell’re you doin’ here?” He stepped closer to the couch and sat on the coffee table. Eye level with Kristina as she sat up bleary-eyed and disheveled.

“Ya ain’t gotta yell,” she said as she rubbed her eyes open. Her short hair was sticking up all over on the side that had been on the pillow. “Anyway you’re the one that’s late.”

Daryl grunted and put the lantern on the coffee table. Kristina swung her feet onto the floor to make room on the couch for him.

“Ain’t late for nuthin’,” he grumbled as he stood up. He took his vest off and draped it over a chair followed by his belt and all the attachments. He even put his knife on the side table before sitting down on the couch.

“Well you’re late getting back is what I mean,” she said as he sat. “You were out on a run and gone longer than I thought. Find anything good?”

“Nah,” he answered. “Same as most days, ‘bout nuthin’ left here. Why’re ya here?”

“Because…” she let out a sleepy little yawn “you said that we should hang out today but then I remembered I don’t have a calendar and I don’t know what day it is so if you said Friday maybe it’s Monday and I’m the late one.” She chuckled a little at her own nonsense and that made Daryl scoff or grunt or whatever that noise was that he makes when something is slightly humorous.

She lifted her sock clad feet and a portion of blanket up onto the couch, almost in his lap but not quite. She tucked her cold toes between his leg and the couch cushion as she leaned back on the arm of the couch and looked at him.

“You had a hard day, huh?” she tried but he rarely took the bait. She was feeling him out, trying to get the sense of his mood.

Daryl shook his head just a tiny bit then shot her a side glance briefly before looking down at his hands again. He appeared to be missing the “armor” of having his pocket knife to clean his nails to avoid eye contact.

“We’ve been friends awhile,” she leaned up and hugged her knees. “Not as long as some but a while, right? So you should know by now I’m not asking as your therapist, hell I don’t even need full and complete sentences!” The half of his face she could see shifted into a slight grin at this. She desperately wanted to reach out and move the hair back from his face but they weren’t those friends.

“Yeah,” he spoke this more than grunted so that was progress.

Kristina really wanted to be more than friends with him but had never pushed him, would never. She was so curious about him. There was only so much you could learn about someone if they didn’t talk. She knew his relationship with Carol was particularly special because they had spent so many months living out there and they didn’t always need words to communicate. Trauma bonds will do that to people. She really wasn’t his therapist. She functioned as one in Alexandria for most people but never for him unless he asked. She didn’t want him to. She wanted him to need her for other things. She had been through a lot of shit when the world fell apart, made some unpleasant choices. She had survived. She didn’t want him to be her therapist either but she had shared some of the milder parts of her past with him as a kind of proof to him that she wasn’t soft or, rather, that being here hadn’t made her soft. She hadn’t told him everything but she probably would eventually, if he let her.

“Com’on, I have an idea, and don’t argue,” she said as she stood up. Stood up so quickly in fact that she startled Dog who had been nearly asleep next to the couch. “No whining either, just trust me.”

“I don’t whine,” he said, looking up at her and suppressing a bit of a grin. She smiled widely at him but let him win that one. She reached down and grabbed his hands and feigned pulling him up weakly. He conceded and stood up.

She led him by one hand through the small area he called a bedroom (truly an alcove with a mattress on the floor but whatever) and into the bathroom. She barely heard his “huh?” as they walked in. He was tired but he was also filthy. Alexandria’s electricity was mostly out but their cisterns kept water pressure pretty strong as long as everyone wasn’t opening their taps at the same time. She closed the toilet lid and pushed his shoulders down as a signal to sit. He actually didn’t argue.

First, Kristina plugged the tub drain, then she turned on the hot tap and ran the water over her inner wrist testing its temperature. She wasn’t optimistic but what was in the hot water tank had stayed pretty warm. Some of the solar electricity must be working during the day. She ran the water into the tub until it ran almost cold. Looking at the amount and scowling she turned around to look at Daryl and raised an eye brow. He was watching her intently. She blushed a little. He couldn’t read her mind thank god because she had only glanced at him to assess water displacement and how full the tub needed to be for comfort and at that moment thought about him without his clothes on. Naked Daryl, my, well that would be different. She shook her head and looked back at the tub.

The water was cooling off so she instructed him to “stay right there, just a sec” and bounded through to the kitchenette for a pan and a sterno can. When she returned to the bathroom she looked around and realized the best place for the sterno was on the toilet lid but Daryl was still where she had told him to stay.

“Ugh, what now?!” he grumbled.

“Get up! Laws of thermodynamics and all that means your water’s coolin’ off, so I’m going to do this and you get undressed,” she bossed at him while setting up her burner and pan.

“No, wha?” he blustered “Uhn-uh, nope.”

“Oh you big baby, just do it,” she teased, she made sure the teasing was evident in her tone. Once she had filled the pan with water and sat it over the flame she turned to see what she had expected: Daryl pressed so hard against the opposite wall that he might just sink into it, with all his clothes on.

Kristina giggled a very girlish giggle, something she rarely ever had occasion to do in her 30s but damn he was endearing. He looked up at her with those eyes and through his filthy hair and she couldn’t stop herself. Walking slowly as if toward a cornered wild animal she made the couple of steps to him. She slowly reached out her hand and put it on one of his, slid it around so they were palm to palm.

“Look, you don’t have to,” she soothed. “But the water is warm, I’ll add some more hot as fast as it heats so you don’t get cold. I won’t see anything you don’t want me to and anyway, when did you last bathe? That wasn’t in a creek?”

His grin was reply enough to that and was a very sincere grin. He nodded slightly and she let go of his hand.

She tested the water in the tub again, nodded to herself, and tested the water that had been heating while they talked and sucked in a sharp breath when she felt the hot water hit the tips of her fingers. She grabbed a towel to hold the pan’s handle and gradually mixed in the heated water with that in the tub. She filled the pan again from the sink. It probably wouldn’t take many more of these to make it comfortable. She waited, looking at the pan of water on the flame as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world because she didn’t dare turn around.

At first she had only heard the soft swooshes of shirt fabric as he began to get undressed. Then she had heard one boot, then the next, thump onto the tile floor. The next sounds were out of context so she could only imagine what was happening while staring at this incredibly interesting pan of water. She heard Daryl’s bare feet make a few steps on the floor and then a hand moved past her to grab a bath cloth off the rack.

“Scuse me,” he said very close to her ear. All of the muscles in her neck froze to keep her from pivoting to see how much progress he had made.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied. Except she kind of croaked the words out and had to clear her throat a bit. She decided to test the water.

“Shit! Okay well that’s hot enough.” she yelped. “So I need to pour this in and I can’t do it with my eyes closed so if you don’t want me to see something, whatever, cover it in 3… 2… 1….” She turned slowly looking mostly at the pan and the floor then the tub. But she knew she would look at him once she started pouring. Who wouldn’t?

Daryl stood looking mostly at his feet but not cowering or shy like she had expected. It occurred to her that he probably bathed naked or just in his underwear out in the woods but there just wasn’t anyone to see him. So in this small room the only things that were modest were his gaze and using the bath cloth like a loin cloth. He was tan but also very dirty and she was pretty sure this one bath wouldn’t be enough but he could deal with that tomorrow.

“Okay, I think it’s ready for you but I’m going to heat at least one more pan,” she said far too quickly, almost making one word from them all and turned to the sink to refill it.

“Uh, thanks,” he said from behind her. Then the water in the tub made a sloshing sound and then another. There was some squeaking on porcelain, presumably his hands on the sides as he lowered himself in, and that mental image was actual the first one that consciously made her flush and feel the tug between her legs. She had thought Daryl sexy very, very many times and had probably had this normal, biological reaction to him many times, but this was different. This time was not brief or from her own imaginings. She took a deep breath and relished it.

Daryl sighed and then inhaled sharply. He went all the way under the water, coming up sputtering and smiling to himself a bit. She noticed the shampoo on a high shelf and, without looking, sat it near the tub so he could reach it.

“You good on soap?” she asked the pan of water.

“M’fine,” he said. “You don’t hafta keep starin at that water. I’m in now, won’t embarrass ya.”

Kristina looked over at him and the blush rose from her cheeks to her hairline. Shit, yup, Daryl was now Naked Daryl. She didn’t stare at any one place and after making eye contact briefly she put her gaze on the floor. Mostly out of respect. She decided she could sit on the bath mat and keep an eye on the heating water without feeling like an interloper. He didn’t tell her to leave and it didn’t occur to her to leave but there was more water heating so she’d stay until that pan was finished.

He sighed and leaned his head back, dipping his hair into the water again. She had seen some of his scars before but he still kept most of them out of view. She had a clear view of one on his chest she had only glimpsed before through an open shirt or when he changed quickly out of blood and dirt covered clothes. She desperately wanted to touch each of them. She equally didn’t want to get caught staring though she was pretty sure he already knew she was.

She tested the temp of the water on the sterno and it felt hot enough. Maybe he would ask her to leave and that would be that and she’d wait with Dog in the living room. She blew out the sterno flame and he opened his eyes, looking at her sideways without moving his head. Now the only light source was the small lantern. The sudden semi-darkness had surprised them both.

“Uh, do you want me to, um, or you can if you’d rather,” she stumbled through that question without finishing. “I don’t want to burn you. How’s the water?” She wanted to sew her mouth shut. Wow that was embarrassing.

“You can if ya want,” he answered as he closed his eyes. “I trust ya. Water’s good. Thanks again. Ya knew I’d just go to bed smellin like the woods.”

“Like the woods for starters and dead things and dirt and Dog. He needs a bath soon too!” she was able to tease unselfconsciously again in the dimmer light. She couldn’t see anything below the surface of the water, not that she was looking, but that made them both less tense it seemed. Like he were less naked.

Kristina turned to pick up the sterno can and take it and the pan to the kitchenette when she felt his hand lightly on her wrist.

“Don’t go,” he whispered without looking up.

She placed everything on the sink and went to sit on the bathmat again, this time she put her back against the tub wall, facing away from him, and hugged her knees to her chest. They sat in silence like that for some time. She really did cherish that he enjoyed silence. The world before had been so loud that it made her anxious. Now the sounds of walkers was almost constant depending on your location. Any silence when you were able to be unguarded was sacrosanct.

She heard the water sloshing gently behind her and smelled the mingled odor of the outdoors with the floral soap and smiled. He would definitely feel better and sleep better.

“Hey, could ya do one more a’ those?” he asked in a low whisper trying not to disturb their silence too much. Wordlessly she set everything up, lit the sterno, they both squinted at the extra light, and filled the pan. She sat back in her exact spot on the bath mat.

At first her brain lagged and didn’t know how her arm got wet. She felt the warm water on her upper arm before she felt his fingers. Then his fingers went up under her t-shirt sleeve and back down, up then down. So slowly that she almost shivered and she did make the smallest moan then clenched her jaw tight so no other sound could escape. He was so guarded against the world that touching someone seemed impossible. She had analyzed that from afar for a while now, not infrequently. But the part of her brain trained in analysis wasn’t in control at the moment. Right now she just wanted to feel this. When she leaned to check the water somehow, not intentionally on her part, his fingers grazed the side of her breast. She hitched in a small breath. She was pretty sure he had been looking at her and aimed that last touch.

The water was hot enough so she blew out the sterno and turned, still on her knees, with the pan ready to pour in the hot water. His blue eyes glinted in the dim light as he watched her. He was beautiful like that. Strong, lean, hair wet against his head, muscular arms on either side of the tub, amazingly unselfconscious. Just waiting on her. She nearly dropped the pan when he quirked up one corner of his mouth.

“Whasa matter with you?”he asked.

“Nuthin’,” she muttered. She started gently pouring the water into the tub and unconsciously glanced at him under the water. The bath cloth was strategically placed and she relaxed a little. Then she knelt next to the bath and swallowed hard.

“Well, I’ll let ya get on with it,” she told him. “You probably need two or three good scrubbin’s and your hair. Do you sleep in mud?!” Her hand was halfway to smooth back his hair before she realized it. She followed through and pushed a lock back from his cheek. He didn’t look at her.

“Nah,” he replied and cupped both his hands full of water and swept it over his head. He sunk down into the tub just a bit, knees poking out of the surface now. “An’ don’t go.” His eyes were closed as the water ran down his face.

“Okay,” Kristina replied. “So whatcha wanna do, talk?” She laughed a little and she noticed the corners of his mouth twitched up at that. She enjoyed teasing him because he knew his own idiosyncrasies and wasn’t embarrassed around her… most of the time.

Daryl started fiddling with the soap and cloth nervously and unproductively. He seemed to finally realize he was naked. He looked over at her watching him. It was a good thing his face was flushed from the warm water or she would see him blush.

“Lord, why am I even in here then?” she asked exasperatedly. She snatched the bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub, anxiety forcing her to do something. “Sit up.”

He did as he was told while she put some shampoo on her hands. She started out gently and then the absolute mess of his hair distracted her from her nerves. She had never washed a grown man’s hair before in her life and had not planned this but now that she was doing it she wondered a bit about why he was letting her. She had her suspicions about his experience with women and understood his shyness. But this felt out of character at the moment, out of character for both of them.

She scrubbed at the tangles and grumbled. “Dunk,” she commanded. He did. She added a bit more shampoo and massaged it in. From the corner of her eye she saw him start to actually use the bath cloth to clean his face, neck, arms. His arms. Her breath hitched a little at the sight of his bare biceps.

She rose up on her knees to get better leverage on this mess and her breast pressed into his shoulder. The water soaked through her t-shirt and bra. She tried to continue with the task at hand but both of them had frozen for a moment, keenly aware of the contact. She didn’t pull away. She decided to appear to ignore it, maybe it would be a signal to him. She took advantage of the accident and pressed a little more against him. He made a sound like quietly clearing his throat. She smiled to herself a little.

When she was satisfied that his hair was as clean as it would be this time she told him to rinse. She sat back on her heels as he sunk under the water and ran his fingers through his hair. He came up sputtering and immediately shook his head like a dog, spraying her and the bathroom with water. She laughed and instinctively shoved his shoulder.

“Hey! Not fair,” she played but her hand lingered a bit longer than intended.

Daryl scoffed, that small laugh of his. He leaned back and started working the soap in his hands. Still avoiding eye contact. What on earth is he thinking, she wondered. The longer this stretched out the more she began to feel things, things she wasn’t sure she was supposed to feel. She had always been bold with men but most weren’t as… as what? delicate? as he was. Timid might be the more accurate word. She couldn’t just grab him and drag him to his bed even if that’s ultimately what he was trying to get her to do. So she stood up and perched on the edge of the tub. She held out her hand. He looked up at her slowly from her hand, up her arm, to her face, questioning.

“Gimme,” she said. “Soap and cloth.” Neither of them broke eye contact as he put them in her hand. Their fingers grazed.

She had never done this before and felt a very awkward. She wasn’t judging him for wanting this, she could probably psychoanalyze why he wanted her to, but she was trying to enjoy it for him. If she was tense he would pick up on it. He was too perceptive not to.

Kristina wet the cloth and her hands in the water next to his legs, extra careful not to touch him. She tried to exhale as quietly as possible. She slid closer to the end of the tub and positioned herself almost behind him. She pressed her fingertips on his shoulders, indicating she wanted him to lean forward. He did but he kind of crumpled and drew his knees up and rested his arms and head on them. She really had never seen all of his scars and tattoos. He kept them hidden. She gently started washing the back of his neck, then she realized she would actually have to scrub. She was honestly embarrassed, more than he was it seemed.

Her mind was racing as she washed down his shoulders and back. All these thoughts and at the forefront was the idea that he knew exactly how uncomfortable this made her. Dixon could be that manipulative? Nah. she argued with herself. She scrubbed a bit too hard over a recent bruise and he pulled away and hissed air through his teeth.

“Sorry, shit,” she said and laid her bare palm on the bruise. He softened a bit with that but didn’t speak. She slowly finished what she could reach and then pulled back on his shoulder for him to lean back. She rinsed and re-soaped the cloth and decided to be a little bold, test his intentions a bit. His eyes were closed so she started on his neck and down his shoulder, bicep, to the water’s surface. She retraced her path and then moved the cloth slowly down his chest. His eyes fluttered but he didn’t move. She wanted to feel the hair and the scars on him with her bare hand but it was too soon to drop this ridiculous pretense.

She leaned across to reach his other shoulder deliberately pressing her breasts against him. He did move a little then. A kind of shrug, not to move away but to reciprocate. She wiped the cloth down his other arm and then slowly sat back up. She cleared her throat a bit more loudly than she intended. In the silence of the bathroom it almost echoed.

Daryl opened his eyes and looked at her. She just couldn’t put her hands under the water. She panicked and dropped the cloth. She stood up, didn’t quite run from the room but almost. She was out so quickly that she left the door open behind her. She leaned against the wall in his bedroom and exhaled, shaking all over. Nope, I did not just do that, she thought. She had. She had fled. Whatever he was doing, on purpose or not, was too much for her. She heard the drain start in from the bathroom. A few more noises and then Daryl was in the doorway, the towel wrapped low on his hips.

“Thas how it is, huh?” he had a great poker face.

“Mmmm,” was the best she could muster in front of his defined muscles. She felt herself shake her head side to side without meaning to. God how she wanted to start babbling and explaining and deflecting but also not do those things and just let this play out how he wanted.

He walked toward her. So big and silent. He could look menacing if he tried but his face was always kind to her. His hair was tousled and in his eyes again. Unph. She almost made that sound out loud. Instead she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. His eyes caught on that movement while he took the few steps to her. She could feel the heat coming off him, he was so close to her. He smelled wonderful, not entirely clean as she suspected. She could smell him.

There was no way he was doing this, being the opposite of shy with her. He looked down at the wet spots on her shirt. He started to touch her hand but only hovered next to it then let his drop to his side. He started talking, mumbling, toward the floor.

“Dunno, it’s dumb,” he said. “Jus wanted to see if you would, ya know, do somethin.”

Wow he was so uncomfortable even after trying to seem otherwise that she ached for him and the courage he must have dug up from deep inside. Very slowly she thought she understood how he could see something incredibly awkward as an opening. Realization dawning, she smiled up at him. She would not laugh because she didn’t want to risk him ever thinking that she was laughing at him. She had to pause to choose her next words and actions carefully. He wasn���t confident enough to overtly take control but wanted it, wanted her to give in, meet him more than halfway.

“Yes, Daryl,” she almost whispered. She brushed a wet lock of hair back from his forehead and trailed her fingers down his jaw. She liked that he didn’t shave. “Yes, I would do anything but only with your consent. Probably, I’d do some things I didn’t want to,” she tipped her head in the direction of the bathroom, hopefully indicating that had been awkward for her.

“Yeah?” he almost growled, the single syllable rumbling in his chest.

“Sure,” she let her fingers move to his lips and she thought she had finally lost her mind. “Sure, just as long as I know it’s what you want.” He pulled away but not in a way that made her regret her honesty.

“Yer prolly doin that head shrinkin’ thing,” he said dubiously, inspecting her eyes for any reaction, any tale-tale sign that she would lie to him.

“Never!” she said a bit louder than she planned. “I couldn’t anyway,” she winked at him. “You’re a completely open book.” He almost laughed at this, almost. Kristina was relieved that he was great at picking up on her sarcasm.

They stood silently for nearly too long, it was almost uncomfortable. Finally Daryl took a step back. He held the towel at his waist and started to walk toward the living room. She was pretty sure he was going to put clothes on and she would miss this window, this giant window with a neon sign flashing “entrance” above it, and she’d be damned if she would miss that.

“Wait,” she grabbed the wrist of his free hand and he stopped. He didn’t turn toward to her, just froze. She stepped up behind him. Still wishing not to rush things and probably failing, she lightly touched his shoulder, a scar. He winced. She traced her finger down his spine to the top of the towel. She flattened her palm on his hip and pulled their bodies together. He was quite a bit taller than her so her head was exactly level with the space between his shoulder blades. She watched them flex, he was now holding the towel with both hands. She continued to slide her palm around him, to his stomach. He stiffened as she placed her other hand there as well and pressed her entire body into him. She hugged him tightly, waiting, hoping he would breathe and start to relax. She felt the rumble against her cheek as he sighed or moaned or whatever that sound was. He shifted and placed a hand on top of hers.

She didn’t know how long they stood there but it seemed neither of them was in a hurry to move. She did though. She gently pulled her hands back, trailed her fingers along his back in the direction she was walking, summoning him. She stood in front of the mattress on the floor and waited for him to turn around. When he did, when she knew he was watching, she started to lift her t-shirt over her head but he nearly pounced to stop her. He grabbed her hand while only her stomach was bared. He tightened the towel around his waist and hesitantly grabbed the hem of her shirt, sliding it up and off. He dropped it on the floor. His hands hovered momentarily and then he slid them down her bare arms.

Daryl stepped so close to her that they were nearly touching again. He tipped her chin up to him with his fingers. She looked at him and parted her lips slightly. He leaned down as if to kiss her but stopped with their mouths only millimeters apart. He licked his lips but still seemed unable to make up his mind. Then, suddenly, he was kissing her. Lips pressed hard together against teeth. Inexpertly but lovely. She kissed him back, desperate, but not opening her mouth further, letting him lead. She felt his tongue against her lips and the surprise ran down her spine to her clit. She encouraged him with her own. God how she wanted to press against him, hurry him.

He put a hand on the back of her head and twisted his fingers in her short hair as best he could. He didn’t pull her into him but tugged, almost pulled on her hair. He groaned into her mouth. She pushed her tongue past his lips, exploring his tongue, his mouth. She placed her hands on either side of his face hoping to help him relax his clenched jaw. It almost worked. Until it didn’t. He overthought everything and this touch startled him enough to pull back from their kiss.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I, uh, I don’t know if I can…” he trailed off. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. She enjoyed this for a few moments, the closeness, breathing each other in.

“That’s okay,” she said in a near whisper. “Com’on, sit down.” She sat on the mattress and leaned her bare back against the cold wall. She shivered. He slumped down next to her and the towel slipped a little, showing one of his thighs more than he might have wanted if he had noticed. She turned to look at him, not stopping herself from smoothing his hair back just a bit. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him but she was pretty sure that was not what he wanted.

She pressed the side of her body up against him completely. She let her fingers slide over the back of his hand and then rest on it.

“Hey…” she whispered. When he looked at her she kissed his cheek, jaw, then his bottom lip. Using her hand to guide him she lifted his and set it gently on her breast. Her bra was still damp and her nipple was hard against his palm. He made the best sounds, this one between a grunt and a groan, and she was positive he had no idea how sexy he was when he did that. She pressed the back of his hand lightly until his fingers flexed. She arched her back. He turned toward her more fully and started to explore, edging his finger tips under the edges of her bra.

Kristina made all of her movements slow and deliberate, contorting her arms behind herself to flick open her bra. She nudged the straps down and he took the hint. His breath was warm on her chest but her nipples ached they were so hard. He sat up, leaned down, and slowly put his lips on one nipple then carefully licked at it. Her moans encouraged him. He sucked her nipple into his mouth. He caressed and kissed and licked with singular focus, adjusting based on the noises he drew from her.

Then he knelt and pulled her under him. It was strained and awkward at first. Her legs were curled under her, he held her up with a hand on her back while the other kneaded her breast. She sighed and pushed against his mouth. His hands were rough and strong. The feeling of his scruffy beard on her bare chest sent electricity through her entire body. He was perfect and a quick study. She tested putting her hands on his sides, smoothing them up his back, wrapping her arms around them to pull him closer. As she did this he started to lay her back on the bed. She straightened her legs out under him. She became acutely aware that her jeans were still on and he was mostly naked. He moved his hand from her back and cupped both of her breasts in his hands. His sharp, ragged breaths made her hips rise. She was pinned by him as he straddled her, holding her in place with his thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut harder not allowing herself to find out if his towel was still holding on for dear life. That would ruin this moment of focusing only on Daryl’s mouth and hands.

He felt her hips move and her back arch. He split his attention between her breast and finding his way to the waistband of her jeans. One handed he unbuttoned them and ripped open the zipper. She gasped a little and dug her fingers into his back. She wanted him to do everything at once, anything he decided to do next was fine by her. He slowly let her nipple slide from his lips. He began kissing her collarbones, her neck, her jaw, and then, finally her mouth. She opened her eyes to find his were open as he watched and decoded every her every move and expression. She felt his fingertips under the elastic of her panties and stayed as still as possible, kissing him harder, brushing her tongue over his lips.

She was so wet. She probably had been since he first undressed in the bathroom. He moaned into their kiss as his fingers slid between her folds and over her clit. He was learning, exploring, and taking his time. He moved his other hand to the bed beside her head to support his weight and get a better angle. He drug his finger through her wetness and up onto her belly. He started to sit up, ending the slow, delicious kiss and she lifted her head trying to keep their lips together as long as possible. His large, strong hand pushed her back, actually shoved her, onto the mattress. Her eyes went wide.

When he gripped the waist of both her jeans and panties she had to look down. He was pulling them down while he worked his way to the foot of the bed. Miraculously the towel was still on his hips but only barely. She could see how hard he was. He was basically naked and when he slipped her pants off her feet he also dropped his towel on the floor. This is happening, she thought. Holy shit. Before any more thoughts could form he was spreading her legs, opening them by her ankles. He looked at every part of her with such intensity that she wasn’t at all surprised when he kissed her calves. Then he started his way up placing kissed behind her knee, on her thigh, on the inside of her thigh. He smoothed a hand up over her hip bone and rested it firmly on her belly as he kissed the sensitive skin in the crease of her hip. It was clear he wasn’t going straight to her pussy. Her eyes were fixed on him and as soon as he was within reach she put her hands in his hair.

Daryl’s eyes shot up at her, his mouth still on her hip. For just a second he seemed to being making a decision. Then he lifted his head and grabbed her wrists, one in each of his hands. He slammed them down on the bed firmly. Message received. She pressed them down to indicate she understood. He almost smiled as he dipped his head to place more kisses on her belly and just below her breasts. Her hips moved and tilted and his hands stopped them as well, fingers digging in hard against her hip bones. She moaned. So this is it, she thought, this is what he was afraid of?

He roughly forced her legs wider apart, careful not to put his thigh where they both wanted it. He leaned over her, his knees holding her thighs open, the cool air on her pussy making her tremble. Okay not just the air. His hands were on either side of her head now. How badly she wanted to put her hands on his arms, feel his muscles, touch every part of him. He looked down at her, almost drowsily, and the groaning purring rumble started in his chest again. He kissed her fiercely, briefly.

“This good?” he asked because he had to. Not because she needed him to but he needed assurance, guidance.

“Mmmhmmm,” she mewled and her body reflexively arched and tried to roll her hips against him.

“No,” he said tonelessly. She stopped.

“This ain’t the time to say this,” he started. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, gathering courage. “But I ain’t never, I mean, well, shit.” He blushed. She started to lift her hands to comfort him, sooth him, and let them fall back to her sides. So she just tilted her head slightly and smiled.

“S’okay,” she whispered. She felt like it would be disobeying too soon if she were to touch him so she had to find the words. She licked her lips and looked directly in his eyes. “Take your time, tell me what you want, show me, we do it how you need to, kay?”

Daryl answered by sliding a hand down her body, without breaking eye contact, and slipping a finger through her wetness again. She let out a small breath and he smiled just a bit. She swallowed hard.

“May I?” she nervously asked.

He grunted assent. So she carefully slid a hand over his, lining her fingers up with his. He groaned and closed his eyes, concentrating. She used her fingers to guide him, first circling her clit then dipping lower. She gently pressed his finger into her and sighed. She slid her hand to his wrist and pushed. It had the desired effect and his finger moved deeper into her. The sounds he made were always guttural, sincere, almost feral. Maybe he had never even had his fingers in a woman. This thought made her cunt ache and she clinched around him.

“Another,” she begged.

He obliged, slipping a second finger inside her. Her hips twitched toward him. His entire body started to move as he began to fuck her with his fingers. They seemed to become aware, for the first time, of his dick pressed between them. She struggled not to push her hips down on his fingers. She wanted him to fill her and she didn’t know if he could read the signs. She spread her legs wider and moaned, almost begging wordlessly. He obliged and slid a second finger in. Certain that it was not possible for him to being enjoying this as much as she was, Kristina flushed when she opened her eyes to see him watching her. That intense focus aimed at her. Like tracking an animal, he was reading every sign available to him. He bit his bottom lip. His eyes moved over her arms by her sides, her chest rising and falling, her hips rolling, the place where their skin touched at the hip.

He ground his palm into her clit and pulled his fingers almost completely out. Then, very nearly roughly, he pushed three fingers into her. He bit his lower lip. He was using only a fraction of his strength but watching his arm working to make her feel this good made her want to grab onto it, claw and scratch at him. He really was paying close attention and curled his fingers slightly inside her. Her cunt clenched tight on him and she balled the sheets of the bed in her fists. She didn’t recognize the sounds that came out of her mouth but some of them resembled his name. Then his thumb pressed on her clit. He didn’t move it, only increased the pressure.

“Oh god Daryl,” she gasped. “I’m going to come.” She couldn’t fill her lungs with air.

He put his mouth close enough to her ear that she almost felt his lips move. “No.”

She couldn’t contain a deep groan but it wasn’t protesting, it was resignation and she tried with all of her focus to relax her grip on his fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the mattress dip with his weight as he pressed up to be right above her, on top of her. His dick nudged at her belly and he hissed sharply. He had moved his weight to his knees to free his other hand. With it her gripped her jaw, under her chin and lifted it up. She was learning him as quickly as he was learning her. She opened her eyes. She was supposed to be looking at him, not escaping the sensations. His thumb was harder on her clit, he had more leverage with this angle. He leaned in and kissed her. This time forcing her lips apart with his tongue. He was hurried and desperate and hungry. She gave in and made room for him.

She wasn’t completely sure she had ever allowed anyone to control her like this. She was excited, thrilled, by it. The release of control, no longer making decisions, but mostly allowing him to take pleasure from her… that was flattering for lack of a better word. It made her feel sexy and uninhibited. In the past few years there hadn’t been time for those feelings. Every moment of life was filled with decisions and nothing remotely sexy. She wanted to relax and enjoy this but she was so close and it had been a while since anyone had given her an orgasm other than herself. And this was giving, if he ever allowed it this would be a helluva gift.

At almost the same moment that he pulled his mouth from hers he removed his fingers. The sudden emptiness made her gasp. He actually smiled. Still kneeling and holding her face he placed his fingers on her mouth. He inhaled deeply in an almost crude way, smelling her. He started to slowly part her lips, encouraging her to do what he wanted. She did. With her inhibitions nearly forgotten she started sucking his fingers, doing whatever this enigmatic man asked. Whatever pleased him. If she took the time to really think about it she might panic, think this was too different from some core part of her. She wasn’t going to do that. Instead she sucked his fingers deep into her throat, wanting only to pull those sounds from him. Or to finally make him grind into her, give her the friction she needed.

He took his fingers away and briefly kissed her. Then he mumbled something into her mouth.

“Huh?” she was barely able to focus. He released her chin and propped himself up, one hand on either side of her head again, and leaned in close.

“Ya want it?” he growled. She wasn’t entirely sure it was a question but she moaned and nodded emphatically.

Daryl straightened, placed a hard, heavy hand on her belly, and stared at her pussy for a moment. He wrapped his hand around his dick and began to slowly stroke. She couldn’t look away but watching made her ache. She realized his hand was on her stomach to keep her still so he could watch. He pressed harder when she started squirm and push her hips toward him.

“Uhn-uh,” he said without looking at her.

He was actually expertly rubbing the head of his dick against her clit. His sighs were deeper now. He slid his hand from her belly to her hip, nearly to her ass, and guided her to tilt and lift her hips how he wanted her. She felt exposed. Now embarrassment washed over her. Her legs were spread wide, her hips raised, and all for him, only him. So he could look at her. She could follow through and trust this or she could stop. She didn’t want to stop. She was amazed at how exciting this humiliation was, wanted to let her mind examine how much he intended to humiliate her. She was relieved when he guided her ass to rest on his thighs, her calves were trembling from the position.

Once she had relaxed and trusted him with her weight his hand went back to her belly. He stroked her clit with his thumb while also holding her down. She let out a small huff when she realized what he was doing. That made him glance up at her face. His head still tilted down but his eyes studying her behind his loose, messy hair. She wanted to pout, put on a show for him, antagonize him, but thought maybe that would come later, if they ever did this again. Instead she mouthed please and he lowered his gaze again.

His dick nudged at her pussy, sliding in just a bit but it was enough that she completely understood why he was holding her still. He’s really never done this?! her mind yelled. He pulled back almost punishing her for trying to rush. Then he started to slowly, excruciatingly slowly, slide into her. He released his grip on his dick and pushed into her until their hips met. He found her hips with his hands and pulled her closer. She didn’t know if he could go any deeper but she wanted it. Wanted all of him in her. She didn’t want this delicious slowness to end but she desperately needed him to move. Her hands pulled at the sheets using anything she could to stay still like he wanted. His eyes flicked up when he saw the movement but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were shut tightly trying to center herself.

“Kristina,” he said. A flat toneless word the way he said it but it had more meaning behind it than she had ever heard. She moaned and looked at him. He wanted needed? her to watch, to be present. He withdrew and using her hips as leverage pushed back in. He intended for her to feel every inch of his dick but was taking it slow for himself. Out nearly completely, back in tapping lightly against her cervix. This sudden, unexpected resistance was the first thing to elicit an involuntary reaction: “shit” he hissed, drawing out the word. She had always enjoyed it when her cervix was involved in sex, if it wasn’t hard pressure it was pleasant but this, this was mind altering. His exploration, his excitement combined with her inability to move and control the fucking made every sensation heightened.

Daryl was definitely exploring. He repeated the action. Out, in, pressure on her cervix. His fingers were going to leave bruises on her hips and she didn’t care. He increased his speed, shortening his strokes, lifting both of them just a little each time. His eyes had barely left the place where he disappeared inside her cunt but now he looked up to watch her breasts sway with his efforts. He leaned forward, unintentionally pushing in farther than he had yet, and ran his hands up her sides. She was liquid, pliant, and let him move her like a doll. He scooped her up with his arms under hers, hands gripping her shoulders for leverage. She was no longer in control of any part of her body and instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. She had enough presence of mind to think he is so strong before letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. She was panting with the speed of his thrusts.

He had lifted her off the bed and into his lap and she felt small and dizzy and wonderful. There was no space between them, no room for him to pull out with each thrust. Her clit rubbed against the coarse hair on his lower belly. She couldn’t stop the rolling of her hips, clenching and unclenching around him. He kissed her neck, sometimes scraping his teeth over her skin, not quite biting. His lips brushed against her ear. One hand moved up her neck and into her hair, then back to her shoulder, lower to her ass. He was exploring, touching every part of her. She felt like he was touching her everywhere at once, inside and out.

When his hand snaked between them and his rough fingers found her nipple she started to beg and plead and warn “I’m going to come, please Daryl, oh god please.”

He breathed against her as his fingers dug into her shoulder, finding more purchase and bringing them closer together when she was sure there had been no more room. His other hand still rolling and pinching her nipple. They were both moving faster now. No difference between them, in perfect rhythm, and she noticed more than felt her fingernails dig into his back.

“Mmhmm,” he grunted. “I want ya to.”

An incoherent stream of ohfuckDarylohfuckfuck poured out of her mouth, head flung back, body arched toward him. She clamped her legs tight against his sides as her orgasm spread from her center. His arms moved to encircle her and press her breasts against his chest. She moaned with this new sensation. Groaned actually. It was going to be too much soon.

And then it was too much. His breath hitched in his chest and she felt him tense nearly every muscle in his body. His groan started deep in his chest. She wanted to feel that vibrate through her so she sat up straighter and ground her hips down onto his dick. He buried his face between her breasts and she tangled her hands in his hair.

“I’m gonna…” he tried to say through clenched teeth. “Ah baby I’m comin’. Fuck. Fu…” He crushed his face against her chest. She felt his hips jerk a few times then become still, felt his dick spasm inside her, and now she felt she could sooth and reassure without permission. She stroked his sweat-dampened hair, kissed the top of his head, and ran her hands down his neck and back. Then her hands found his face and turned it up to hers and she kissed him. Hard and rough and deep. She forced his mouth open with her tongue. He kissed her back and as he did her grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her up. He laid her back on the bed. She untangled her limbs from him. Then he slowly pulled out. She felt his cum trickle out, hot and more than a little satisfying.

He sank down heavily on the bed next to her. Half on his side, he laid an arm across her stomach and curled his fingers over her arm. She snuggled against his chest, still feeling small and safe but now also calm and quiet. Peaceful. With her eyes half-closed she languidly traced a scar on his arm.

“So that’s it huh?” he said quietly. She felt him smile as he kissed the top of her head.

“Well, when you put it like that,” she teased and giggled. She kissed his chest, pressed as much of her body against his as possible. “Yeah, that’s it, exactly it.”

Chapter 2

#daryl dixon #virgin!daryl x ofc #virgin!daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixon x ofc #the walking dead daryl #daryl smut #x ofc #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #demisexual daryl

[crazytxgradstudent]

I’ve rewatched TWD in its entirety, and I’m ready to post my Daryl Dixon/OFC fic. It’s gonna deal with dark themes, so be aware. After Maggie’s story about the pregnant women she found, I really wanted to dive into just how dark TWD could be.

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #dark themes #Daryl Dixon x ofc #twd fanfiction

[creationcitystreet-em]

Olivia Rodrigo Songs with my OCs

I'm too obsessed with GUTS so here's this

Camila Ruíz

About her relationship with her parents: enough for you, the grudge

Key lyrics:

Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded? Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

You always say I'm never satisfied, but I don't think that's true. You say I'm never satisfied, but that's not me, it's you. 'Cause all I ever wanted was to be enough, but I don't think anything could ever be enough for you

And I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did, but I hold on to every detail like my life depends on it. My undying love, now I hold it like a grudge. And I hear your voice every time that I think I'm not enough

And I try to be tough, but I wanna scream, How could anybody do the things you did so easily?

It takes strength to forgive, but I don't feel strong

You built me up to watch me fall, you have everything and you still want more

Even after all this, you're still everything to me. And I know you don't care, I guess that that's fine, But you know I can't let it go. I've tried, I've tried, I've tried for so long

Mia Canales

About her relationship with her ex: 1 step forward 3 steps back, vampire, logical

Key lyrics:

You got me fucked up in the head, boy. Never doubted myself so much. Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy? I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

'Cause it's always one step forward and three steps back, I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

'Cause I've made some real big mistakes, but you make the worst one look fine

I used to think I was smart but you made me look so naive

Went for me, and not her, 'cause girls your age know better

You said it was true love, but wouldn't that be hard? You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart

And now you got me thinking two plus two equals five and I'm the love of your life

You built a giant castle with walls so high, I couldn't see the way it all unraveled and all the things you did to me. You lied, you lied, you lied

Cause lovin' you is lovin' every argument you held over my head, Brought up the girls you could have instead. Said I was too young, I was too soft, can't take a joke, can't get you off

#oc #latina oc #olivia rodrigo #olivia rodrigo sour #olivia rodrigo guts #daryl dixon x ofc #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x oc #daryl dixon x oc #latina fanfic #fanfic #oc fanfic #oc fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #original female characters #original character #twd #marvel #avengers #the walking dead #abusive behavior #manipulative #abuse #emotional abuse #mental abuse #camila ruiz #mia canales #my past our future #love so golden

[twdsunshine]

The World At Our Feet: Pt. 4

Summary:  It's been eighteen months since Alexa Rushmore broke the man she loved out of prison.  She and Daryl now live in fear, unable to let their guard down in case their true identities should be revealed.  When Daryl's brother tracks them down, life becomes even more difficult.  Will Merle Dixon prove to be their downfall?  The third and final instalment of the Conviction trilogy that began with 'In Dark Corners.'

Pairing:  Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings:  Language

Word Count:  2,933

Check out my bio for a link to my Masterlist!

Author’s Note:   This chapter ended up a little shorter than planned, just cos it’s veeery dialogue heavy, so I didn’t want to add even more.  I’m still not sure if this will run to 5 chapters + an epilogue, or 6 + an epilogue, so we’ll see how it goes, but I’m hoping to have it all wrapped up by the end of the month, even though I’ve abandoned my Monday posting schedule.  There are a lot of feels in this one as the brothers hash it out, so I hope you enjoy.  Happy reading!!

*****

The grasses were crisp beneath their boots as the Dixon brothers covered the open plains of the countryside, the sun’s rays scorching their skin and tinting it red.  Daryl didn’t much care, knowing that it would soon melt into a deep golden tan, something Alexa envied with her naturally pale complexion, but the sweat that beaded on his forehead was burning his eyes as it trickled over the slope of his brow, and he swiped it away with the back of his hand, casting a sideways glance at Merle to see that he, too, was glistening in the heat.  So far, neither one of them had spoken since leaving the house.  The forced bravado he’d displayed upon waking had long since disappeared, and now he appeared almost submissive, his head down as he followed in Daryl’s footsteps, allowing the younger man to take the lead with his greater knowledge of the territory.  The air between them was thick with tension, humming with an unseen threat that had goosebumps rising along the length of Daryl’s arms and, if he let his thoughts run wild for too long, he’d find his fingers bunching into fists of their own accord, his anger still very much present and simmering just beneath the surface of his casual exterior.

So far, there’d been no sign of any wildlife, and he was sure that it was the tense atmosphere that was driving them away, but he supposed it didn’t really matter.  The hunt was an excuse, a reason to drag Merle out of the house so that they could talk without the risk of putting Alexa in harm's way if things went south, and so, when they finally reached the sloping banks of what had been a stream before the summer months had dried up any trace of water from the winding channel, Daryl set aside his bow and slumped down onto the hard, dusty earth, tugging a bottle of water from his pack and taking a long drink before passing it off to his brother to do the same.  

“Ya thinkin’a fishin’, li’l brother?” Merle asked as he lowered himself down beside him, careful to keep several feet between them as he studied the younger Dixon, trying to get a read on his body language.  “‘Cause I hate to break it to ya, but I ain’t sure they’re runnin’ right now.”

Despite himself, Daryl scoffed, shaking his head, kicking his leg out to dig the heel of his boot into the parched earth.  He knew the rains would come, eventually, but this was his first experience of Mexico’s dry season, and it was hard to imagine that the sun-baked landscape would ever recover.  He wondered if he and Alexa would still be around to see it when the weather broke.  “Always jokin’, aren’t ya, Merle?  Ain’t never taken nothin’ seriously in yer whole damn life.”

“Never used to bother ya.”

“S’always bothered me,” Daryl argued.  “Everythin’s a joke, or else it’s a fuckin' competition.  Can’t never just leave nothin’ alone.”

Merle hummed, deep in his chest, running his hand over the thinning hair on the top of his head.  “So, this is the talk, huh?”

“Ya could’a messed everythin’ up, man.  D’ya get that?  Still might’a done!  We ain’t got no way’a knowin’!”  Daryl’s gaze was sharp enough to cut when it locked with Merle’s, his expression bordering on hate, but not quite there, not yet.  “Someone could be callin’ the authorities on us right now after that stunt ya pulled in the bar.”

“Wasn’t a big deal, brother-” Merle began.  His memory had come back to him in dribs and drabs as they’d covered the miles, and he remembered now how Daryl had tracked him down in the cantina, tried desperately to drag him out of there before he could do anything stupid.  

“Ya called me by my name!  My real name!”

“So, I forgot!  S’cuse me if I can’t keep up with all your covert cloak an’ dagger bullshit”

“Ain’t bullshit, Merle!  S’gotta be like this!  Ya think I like havin’ to call Lex Ella whenever I’m outta the house?  Think I like bein’ called Dixon when that name’s followed me like a fuckin’ curse my whole life?”

“Oh yeah, ya got it real hard, dont’cha?” Merle drawled, throwing himself back against the hard ground so he could stare up into the cloudless blue expanse above, avoiding his brother’s troubled eyes.  “I team up with your girl back there to get ya the hell outta that place, an’ then the two of ya take off an’ leave me behind!”  When that was met with only silence, he went on.  “S’fine, alright.  I get it.  Ain’t never been nothin’ but a damn liability my whole life.  Ya probably wouldn’a made it as far the border with me along for the ride.  But, shit, man…  I rock up here with nothin’.  Seriously, all I got to my name’s a handful’a change and a spare change’a clothes.  An’ I’m thinkin’, Daryl’ll get it, right?  Maybe he’ll be happy to see me.  Maybe I can even lend a hand, prove that I ain’t the same ol’ waste’a space I’ve always been.”

“Merle-”

“But it ain’t like that, is it?  Y’ain’t strugglin’ out here.  Ya’ve gone an’ built yourselves a cosy li’l life.  Ya got a good woman, ya got a roof over your head, ya got food on the table.  People round here, they ain’t got nothin’ bad to say about ya, man!  They trust ya!  Ain’t nobody ever trusted a damn Dixon back home, but here… Shit, ya got out, baby brother.  Ya got free.  So, dont’cha try an’ tell me how hard it is for the two of ya, don’t ya dare, ‘cause the truth is, Darylina, ya don’t got a goddamn clue.”

He was breathing hard when he finally ran out of words, his chest heaving, and the quiet that rolled back in was almost suffocating.  He could feel Daryl’s eyes on him, raking over his face, knew his lips would be parted in shock at his outburst because he knew his brother well enough to know that without having to turn his head and look.  But, when he heard a soft huff of laughter, he couldn’t help but steal a glance, finding Daryl hunched forward over his knees, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, yer right, man.  I, er… I got lucky, I guess.”  His tone was laced with sarcasm, and he ran a callused hand over his face, catching his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment as he stared down at the thinning fabric of his jeans where it stretched over his joints.  “Ya say I don’t gotta goddamn clue.  My life here… it ain’t perfect.  S’far from it.  Ya don’t even know what we’ve had to give up, what Lex has had to give up for me.”

“Ya not keepin’ the doc in the manner she’s accustomed to?” Merle drawled with a smirk.

“Ain’t about that,” Daryl snapped back, his patience wearing thin.  “S’more important things than money an’... stuff, Merle.  If y’ever thought about anythin’ but where yer next fix is comin’ from, maybe ya’d know that.”  Merle’s eyes darkened, storm clouds gathering in the blue that was the only physical similarity between the two brothers, but he bit his tongue, curious to see where this was going.  “There’s stuff Lex wanted- stuff she wants from life that I can’t give her ‘cause of how we have to live here.  An’ it kills me that she can’t have it ‘cause’a me.  I ain’t never gonna be able to make it up to her, an’ I have to hold her while she cries about it, an’ there’s not a damn thing I can do to make it better.  So don’tcha come at me about how fuckin' easy my life is ‘cause it’s been a struggle, Merle, every goddamn day.  Ya don’t even know the half of it.”

Merle swallowed hard, and, for the first time, he pushed down his instincts for long enough to really pay attention to Daryl, sensing the pain that seemed to emanate from him now that he’d opened up.  It was almost tangible, a bitter taste in the air when Merle sucked in a breath, and, rather than fight against it, he found himself backing down, wanting to know more, to find out if he could help.  Once, he’d been so protective of his little brother.  He wasn’t even sure when that had turned sour.  “So, tell me.”

“Ya don’t wanna know.”

“You’re my brother, man.  Course I wanna know.”

Daryl sighed, long and heavy, his shoulders slumping as if he was physically deflating in front of Merle’s eyes.  “Y’know she can’t practice medicine here, right?”  Merle nodded, though he hadn’t really given it much thought.  “Ain’t got the paperwork or whatever in her fake name.  Ella Smith don’t got no qualifications, din’t go to med school or none’a that shit.”  He flopped backwards, mirroring his brother’s position to stare up at the sky.  “‘Fore she came to Carrington, she had a fling with this guy, a doctor at the practice she worked at.  S’the reason she left in the end, got driven out ‘cause it ended bad.  An’ now, ‘cause’a me, she’s had to give up another job she loved.  ‘Cept, this time, she can’t just go get another one.  Most she can hope for round here is a job in a bar or workin’ the register in the tiendita, an’ that’s if she can ever settle enough to feel safe doin’ it.  She spends every damn day cooped up in that tiny house; only has the dog for company.  S’a wonder she ain’t lost her mind.”

Daryl was on a roll now, not even pausing to give Merle a chance to respond before he pressed on.  “An’ the one thing that might keep her sane, the one thing she really wants, that’d give her back her purpose…  Hell, the one thing we both want is to be a family, man, like, the kinda family we never had.  She- she wants to be a mom.”

“Ya firin’ blanks, brother?”  The question earned Merle an exasperated glare, but the truth was the moment had become too heavy, too intense, and he didn’t know how else to lighten it.  Daryl’s voice had become thick with emotion, and he’d been keeping his face turned away, and Merle knew that meant that his eyes would be shining with tears, and he hated it.  He hated to see Daryl cry, always had.  He never knew what to do, having never been good at showing his own feelings, and that was something that hadn't changed.

“Ain’t even tried,” Daryl growled, lacing his fingers together and tucking his arms beneath his head as if fighting back the compulsion to gnaw on the skin around his nails.  “We don’t got no insurance.  Don’t got much of anythin’.  Can’t risk knockin’ her up an’ then somethin’ goin’ wrong.  Plus, how’d ya bring a kid into a world where we could both be hunted down an’ thrown back behind bars at any second?  Ain’t fair.  Ain’t right.  Don’t make it no easier though.”

It was Merle’s turn to sigh now, and his breath caught in his throat, threatening to choke him.  He hadn’t given much thought to Daryl’s situation in any more detail than to be bitter that he wasn’t on his own, that he had Alexa and that they were taking on the world together, where Merle had always felt as if he was standing alone.  It hadn’t even occurred to him that perhaps his brother might want something more.  Hell, if he was honest, he still saw Daryl as a little kid, all blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, scraped knees and too-big hand-me-downs.  He couldn’t reconcile that image with the man beside him that wanted to be a father, to change the Dixon story and break the pattern of abusive parents and dependency.  He realised in that moment that perhaps he didn’t actually know his little brother at all.  “Shit, man, that’s… That’s some heavy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re right.  I- I didn’t know.”

“Ain’t no way ya could’a,” Daryl pointed out, and it was obvious that his anger had been extinguished, the fight going out of him after he’d vented his frustrations.  “Just… We’re tryin’ so hard here, man.  I can’t have ya comin’ in an’ screwin’ it all up.  I don’t wanna put her through that on top of everythin’ else.”

“I get it.”  Easing himself upright and switching his focus to the cracked dirt at the bottom of the bed of the stream, Merle cleared his throat, swallowing down the foreign sense of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.  “Look, I know I messed up, man.  Ain’t nothin’ I can do about that now.  But it don’t gotta be the end of the world, right?  We’ll just stick with your story.  I was a bottle deep, an’ I thought ya were my brother.  It happens.”

“Maybe.”  From his new vantage point, Merle could see that Daryl’s jaw was still locked with tension.

“What is it?”

“This whole internet thing, s’got me worried.”

“The big-ass antenna, right?  I heard you an’ the doc talkin’ about it.”

Daryl nodded.  “Half the folks round here ain’t never been online, an’ if they have it’s old-school dial-up that takes an hour to load up an email.  But this new high-speed connection… More an’ more people are signin’ up from what I’ve heard.  Feels like s’just a matter’a time ‘fore one of ‘em stumbles across our pictures.”  His voice dropped.  “I think we might be done here.”

“You’re thinkin’ of movin’ on?”

“Lex don't wanna, but… M’not sure we’ve got a choice.”  He ran a hand through his tangled mess of hair, his fingers catching in the knots.  “I thought we were done runnin’, at least.  Thought we could have a life here, even if it ain’t like she pictured.  Damn stupid.  Guess I should’a known.”

“An’ what happens when the next place gets connected, an’ the place after that?” Merle asked, his intention not to be deliberately antagonistic, but to point out the obvious.  “This is the twenty-first century, brother.  Pretty soon, the whole damn world’s gonna be online, an’ then whatcha gonna do, huh?”

Daryl didn’t have any answers.

*****

Alexa watched from the table as Merle stood over the pot on the stove, stirring it with a wooden spoon and sniffing appreciatively, inhaling the aroma that drifted from the stew in a curl of steam.  The brothers had arrived home with a tentative truce in place and a brace of rabbits which Daryl had prepared on the porch whilst his brother had ducked inside to shower.  Now, Daryl was taking his turn in the bathroom, sluicing away the grime of the hunt, whilst the elder Dixon seasoned dinner with a pinch of salt and a sprinkling of herbs, before turning the heat down on the burner to let it simmer.  He’d yet to say a single word to Alexa since his drunken flirtations the previous day, and his movements were measured as he crossed the room to take a seat opposite her, as if he were trying to make himself smaller somehow, less brash, his expression schooled into neutrality when he met her eyes.  

“Wanna say m’sorry, Doc, if I’ve caused ya any trouble at all.  Wasn’t my intention but, hell, I’m an asshole when I drink.  Should’a known better.”

In all honesty, Alexa hadn’t been expecting an apology.  She remembered Daryl’s icy insistence that his brother never apologised for anything, so it was with wide eyes that she regarded the older man, clasping her hands in front of her on the wooden surface and tugging on her fingers.  “I guess you guys talked it out.”

He nodded, still contrite.  “I was jealous.  Saw whatcha had here, an’ I got bitter, got angry.  Never thought about what it cost ya to start a new life.  Just saw that y’ain’t got no room in it for ol’ Merle.”

“That’s not true,” Alexa made to argue, ever polite, because family was family and it was something the both of them were lacking, but Merle cut her off.

“No need to pretend, Doc.  I’m in the way here.  I get it.  An’ I put ya at risk, an’ there ain’t no way baby bro’s gonna forgive me for that, no matter what he says.”  He huffed a sigh, drumming his fingertips against the tabletop in a steady rhythm.  “I need to get some cash together.  Gonna try an’ pick up some work.  Daryl said he’d help out, recommend me to his contacts.  Then, soon as I’ve got enough, I’ll be outta your hair; let you two lovebirds have your space.”

“Where will you go?”  The concern in her tone was genuine, Merle realised, despite everything, and it made his heart ache in a way that he was sure he hadn’t felt before.  He’d been keeping his emotions at bay for so long, holding them back and numbing them with the drink and the drugs, but now that Daryl had cracked through that barrier, it seemed, everything was amplified.  He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“That ain’t no worry of yours,” he told her, easing himself to his feet as they heard the bathroom door open down the hall.  “You just look after my brother for me, alright?  I ain’t done such a good job in the past, but he’s your responsibility now.  Make him happy, Doc.  He deserves it.”

*****

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#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon x ofc #daryl dixon x oc #conviction #the world at our feet

[justjessame]

Silence: Chapter 24

Negan was waiting for me when I left my room the next morning. I guess he didn’t have much choice since I heard the shuffling of a guard outside the front door, and I wasn’t certain he came into the Commonwealth in the usual way.

“Morning,” I offered, sidestepping him and going to the kitchen for something to calm down the little invaders inside of me that seemed incapable of staying still now that their biological sperm donor was present. “Do you want something to eat?” I was speaking as normally as I would if Daryl or Max was visiting. I knew from experience that the guards couldn’t hear me or anyone who was inside with me if I kept calm and my voice didn’t rise too loud.

“Breakfast?” I shrugged, going to the cupboard to grab some fruit. Eggs or normal breakfast food wasn’t something the babies seemed to want, but the fresh offerings made them lay silent for a tiny bit. “Tell me where I can find -” I pointed out where I kept foods I thought he might prefer, taking a glass of cool water and my own preferences to the table.

He looked at ease in my kitchen. His long arms, and huge ass hands were more graceful than my own as he took out what he wanted. When he let out a moan that I had heard during the times that got me in my current predicament I shifted in my seat. Damn him.

“I could get used to this,” he turned with a plate filled with enough food to make me wonder if he and Annie were in a better state than the one he left behind in Alexandria. “You gonna eat?”

Fuck, I’d completely forgotten my own food while I watched him gather his. Taking a drink from my glass, I slowly worked through my own smaller plate of fruit. He’d joined me at the table, and of course he chose the seat closest to me, rather than the one across from me. “Do you need help getting out?” He was chewing a huge forkful of food, so I waited for his answer to come once he swallowed, but instead he shook his head.

“No,” he finally managed to swallow down his chunk of goodness, looking for all the world like the Negan I’d met in the forest. A dangerous memory if there ever was one. “I guess you thought I came in all sneaky and shit.” Well, actually - “I got in just like you did.”

That was a reminder I really didn’t want. And I guess it showed on my face.

“Right,” instead of looking all that surprised, he looked like he’d forgotten something that he knew beforehand. “Carol mentioned that you’re related to the leader here - Milton, right?” Shit. Something I hadn’t told him, I guess he scored a point there. “Never took you for American Royalty, Elara.”

“I’m not,” his dimples were peeking at me and the babies seemed to perk up at their appearance, which made not a single fucking shred of sense since they couldn’t SEE him. Urging them to calm down silently, I tried to pick up my indignation at the reminder of who my parents worked so hard to keep me from being. “My last name is Mallick, it was my mother’s surname and my parents wanted me to have it, rather than my father’s.” He was focused on me even while he continued to eat through his food. “My grandfather’s choice to pursue politics all the way to the highest in the land wasn’t something that my parents felt should change our lives - unlike our extended family.” Pam, my uncle, Sebastian, my grandmother - they all gloried in the entitlements that seemed contingent on Grandpa’s status.

“Like Pamela?” My silence met his question and his grin grew. “You’re not fond of her, Elara, even if you won’t answer, your lips are so thin they’ve disappeared.” Shit. “So she used Papa’s past life to get her to the top here,” he sat back and studied me. “And you?”

“Me what?” He looked around my little cottage and I felt a twinge of irritation at his assessment. “I happen to work here,” his eyebrow went up again and I glared back. “Not in the house, I work at the school and the library, asshole.” The smile was growing at my irritation and I wanted to toss my fork at his head. “Actually, I guess this place is a lot like the one you ran - what was it called again?”

“The Sanctuary,” his grin had diminished, but wasn’t completely gone, even if he looked a little more somber at the reminder of his own grim past. “And look how peachy that shit turned out.” Damn it, he was right. “This place isn’t gonna last like it is, and you know it.” Fuck, he was right - including about my knowledge. “Is it really safe for you and -” his eyes went to the curve that rose above the table top.

“We have real doctors, real medication here.” I was thinking of Tomi and the equipment he kept promising would make my multiple births safe - or safer than I would be somewhere like Alexandria or alone in the fucking woods. “Maybe you should bring Annie in and let them make certain she and the baby are -” he was studying me like he wasn’t sure if I was as calm about his wife and unborn baby being so close as I seemed. “It would be terrible if you lost another wife, Negan.”

He was on his knees beside me before I knew it. “I’d hate to lose you again,” oh shit. His hand looked less steady than it had when he was grabbing breakfast as it reached out to cradle the top of the bump housing his offspring. “Or them,” guess he figured me all out, but honestly I was almost as big as my house - and like he said, none of the math worked out. And the traitors I was currently keeping warm and safe inside of me had the audacity to move, letting him feel each one of them, and confirming that there was clearly more than one inside. “Strong aren’t they?” His hand was moving to capture every kick and roll, smiling as he felt them welcoming him into their lives - even if I was less sure about what he wanted.

“They are,” my hand met his, but instead of sharing the moment, I did something that gave me more pain than I’d ever admit. I carefully removed his hand from me, squeezing it to hopefully lessen the blow, but putting up a boundary now - so he understood that he had a place and it wasn’t beside me or them. “And I’m sure that your baby with Annie is as well.”

He was right, he didn’t have to fear walking out of my house, even if the guards shot me a look that made me want to scream. Judgment was evident even while they were wearing those ridiculous helmets.

He went his own way as soon as I was within sight of the school and I felt a twinge, but I pushed it down. Negan was someone else’s, and they were making a family together. There wasn’t a place at his side and there was no one to blame but myself.

I only hoped that I would hear some news about Daryl - that he was safe, that he was close, that he was returning.

#alternate universe #the walking dead #negan x ofc #daryl dixon x ofc #unexpected pregnancy

[whenmondaycomes]

Full Name: Samantha Lynn Rhee

Aliases: Sammie

Sunshine (by Daryl)

Babe (by Daryl)

Love (by Daryl)

Date Of Birth: August 8, 1990

Gender: Female

Species: Human

Affiliations: Hilltop Colony

The Kingdom

Alexandria Safe Zone

Commonwealth Army (Formerly)

Militia (Formerly)

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Partner: Daryl Dixon (Soulmate/Boyfriend)

Occupation: Nurse

Family: Unknown Parents (Deceased)

Unnamed Sisters (Deceased?)

Glenn Rhee (Older Brother) (Deceased)

Maggie Rhee (Sister In Law)

Hershel Rhee (Nephew)

Will Dixon (Father In Law) (Deceased)

Mrs. Dixon (Mother In Law) (Deceased)

Merle Dixon (Brother In Law) (Deceased)

Judith Grimes (Surrogate Niece)

R.J. Grimes (Surrogate Nephew)

Dog (Former Pet)

Friends: Daryl Dixon (Best Friend/Love of Life)

Maggie Rhee (Best Friend/Sister In Law)

Michonne Grimes (Best Friend)

Carol Peletier

Rick Grimes

Carl Grimes (Deceased)

Glenn Rhee (Older Brother) (Deceased)

Hershel Rhee (Nephew)

Judith Grimes (Surrogate Niece)

R.J. Grimes (Surrogate Nephew)

Enemies: Negan Smith

Alpha (Deceased)

Beta (Deceased)

Leah Shaw (Deceased)

Citizenship: America

Status: Alive

#daryl dixon x ofc #About them

[cultofdixon]

In a past life it was yours, the present is mine

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • At the line up it was revealed your family history, in the future it won’t be used against you, but for now? You have to change the problem from the inside out or all those you love will perish • ANGST/SFW • TW: Past Mental Abuse / PTSD / Trauma / Anxiety / Canon Violence / Depression • Canon re-written

Requested by: Anon

“Well, let’s meet the man shall we?” The right hand to the mystery man says with a smirk as he approaches the RV.

The archer turns to his other half seeing her keep a calm exterior even if the inner feelings spilled in tears.

I’ll always keep you safe Y/N Daryl mouths to her watching her nod smiling through the tears as both of their attention snapped back to what’s in front of them.

As the tension grew in the woods and the creek of the RV door opens followed by whistling that drove chills down their backs. The man stepped out and instantly locked eyes with the archer’s partner, standing there for too long as neither of them said a word. Until a smirk brought itself on his face as he grabs his right hand by the collar pulling him close to tell him something.

Then you know the rest…

As Negan drags Rick into the RV after killing two of their own. Abraham and Glenn. The right hand that is named Simon approaches the group as the vehicle disappears.

“Take the girl” Simon states watching two saviors come up behind Y/N grabbing her by the arms. “Take the hits and scratches, guys. She’s just a little thing anyway”

“Wait WAIT!” Maggie yells watching her friend getting taken as Daryl tried rising to his feet again when Dwight hit him in the back of the head with the blunt end of his crossbow.

Y/N froze watching such as it made it easier to drag her body to one of the trucks. The bigger man out of the two practically tossed her into the back of the van and was immediately pistol whipped by Simon.

“Best I do somethin’ before boss man puts a bullet in your head” Simon scoffs shutting the doors after pushing the guy of the way. “Take her back to the Sanctuary. She don’t need to see what else the man’s gotta do”

And with that the van left, leaving the group confused…Maggie hurt even further and Daryl livid. They didn’t understand why Negan ordered such to happen. Hell they don’t even know when that was ordered. His hushed side conversations were so short because he had other business to attend to.

How…how could he

How could he do this

To me

The drive was long, at least it felt like such. Y/N didn’t know where she was going or who else she would be dealing with but during the unknown period she simply cried. Cried over her deceased family and over the fear of losing the man she loves.

Soon the doors to the back opened and no one was forcing her out of the vehicle until a blond woman came. She grabbed Y/N by the arm and let the girl scratch at her or try to pull away but the grip she had on her? Good luck.

“Where are you taking me?!”

Nothing

“I demand to know!”

Again, nothing

“What is he going to do to my family?!” Y/N snaps before getting shoved in a room as the woman stood at the door a second.

“Family? This is your family, dollface” and the door shut, locking from the other side.

Y/N immediately went toward the door and started pounding against it, screaming out for anyone to let her out. Then she started to look for something to pick the lock with but as she searched the room she was in…it took a second to realize it was a room and not a cell. She decided to look around in hopes she’d find something to help her escape.

Instead she was met with her past.

How come yea never talk about your old life?

I told you a lot. What specifically?

Everybody’s got a family. You never said anythin’ bout that

Guess I’m just. Never ready to talk about it

I don’t think I’ll ever be, even now Y/N frowns holding a picture frame in her hands and the sound of keys jingling startled her to grab something heavy.

When the door opened and Negan stepped through, he quickly dodged the jar of pickles Y/N had grabbed as it hit one of his saviors behind him instead of him.

“Still got a hell of a throw”

Nothing

“How long have yea been with these people?” Negan asks watching her tense and retract at every step he took, inevitably stopping. “You have no idea how long I’ve been lookin’ for you” he snapped for one of his own to close the door to give them more privacy as Y/N immediately shoved him away.

“Why”

“Listen—-“

“WHY!” She yelled loud enough for those standing outside the door, even if the walls were thick. “WHY DID YOU BECOME THIS MONSTER?!”

“Princess, please—-“

“No! You killed my best friend. You don’t get to ‘princess’ me, dad. You took me away from my family…you killed those of MY FAMILY”

“IM YOUR FUCKING FAMILY” Negan finally yells back in her face watching her cower, making him step back taking in the sight to memory. “I’m your blood. You’re my daughter and my family. At least what’s left of it”

“I was your bastard child when you were a teenager…you only cared cuz I got stuck in your care. Then you met Lucille and I was already out of the house…you cut the line there. You moved on but even then…you still went back to your old ways.” Y/N frowns feeling the tears roll off her cheeks. “Now you’re just worse. A monster that put the woman you loved’s name on a bat that killed those important to me…where do you get off”

Before Negan could say another word, Dwight opened the door abruptly which was a big no-no on his part.

“Hey we got Daryl in one of the cells. What’s the next—-“

“What? WHAT” Y/N pushed Negan out of the way as he quickly grabbed at her arm only for her to pull with all her force. He tightened too hard that he heard a crack and instantly let go resulting in her shoving Dwight over like it was nothing and going through the halls.

No one was touching her

Or at least weren’t allowed to intervene

Unless she tried to escape…or help someone escape.

The banging on his cell door gave his position away as Y/N was stopped by the brute guarding his door. But she had about enough in the moment.

“Move out of my way”

“I can’t do that princess”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Or Wha—-“ He was instantly cut off by her leg swung right in between the legs hitting the family jewels hard enough for him to drop. Giving her a window to go for his knife and threaten to cut his throat open the second those chasing her approached.

“Jesus Christ. This is your blood?” Dwight scoffs stepping back every second their eyes locked.

“She’s definitely Negan’s daughter” Laura laughs at the sight watching Negan step closer not giving a single fuck if Y/N took the man’s life.

“It’s best to let him go. Wouldn’t want to be like me right?”

Y/N felt instant regret for her actions after he said such. She slowly released the knife as the guy quickly pulls away bringing himself behind Negan.

The man stood there for a while staring down at his child while his people stand behind him in fear of both Smiths. Then a pain brought itself in his chest watching her cower when he tried to simply step forward and help her up.

A small child took her place sitting there on the floor as he stood before her in his early twenties with a suitcase in one hand and a ticket in the other.

The two locked eyes and he turned around closing the door behind him. Never turning back.

“You get five minutes. But I’m not letting either of you go” Negan frowns opening the door to Daryl cell as he was about to fight whoever opened it when he saw Y/N and Negan on the other side.

The two were soon closed in the cell for privacy with a lantern for the light. Y/N frowns looking at Daryl after just telling him about who her father is and why she hasn’t told him or anybody. It’s not like she knew about his dictatorship in the old world, just knew the man as someone who wanted nothing to do with her as a child and when she became an adult he had already moved on.

“He…we gotta get out of this shithole”

“I don’t think that could happen without a window…or a bullet in one of us”

“From how he wanted yea at the line up, doubt he’d hurt yea”

“I’m not going to let him hurt you” Y/N frowns bringing herself close expecting Daryl to reject her after finding out of her bloodline.

But the archer carefully took her face into his hands wiping away the tears that suddenly sprung from her waterline.

“He may not hurt yea sunshine, but he can still break you”

Before another word could be shared, the door sprung open and Y/N was suddenly grabbed pulling her out of the cell as Daryl tried to use that as a window but was met with his own crossbow aimed at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare hurt him” Y/N thrashed against the grasp two saviors had on her as they lessen their grip when Negan glared at them. “You lay a hand on him and I will make you fucking regret taking me too”

Negan glared at his daughter before turning back to the archer and his people keep him in. He shoved Dwight back before shutting the door and locking Daryl in there. No more words were exchanged but all he did was grab Y/N by the bicep leading her to the rooms and locking her in a new one.

________

“How come yea never talked about your family?” Daryl frowns joining Y/N on the porch of their new home. “Ever since we got here you’ve been extra quiet so I’m just assumin’ what the subject matter is”

“I just. Never experienced this niceness before. Like when y’all found me in the woods outside the prison? I had just gotten lost after seeing where my dad had lived all my life without me”

The sadness grew in his expression as he noticed hers barely shift, she’s accepted it a long time ago…but the pain will always be there.

“He had me as a teenager and my mom just gave me to him then fucked off. So he struggled for four years with the help of grandma, then one day I was seated on the carpet watching him pick up a suitcase and walk out the door.” Y/N frowns hugging herself as she kept her gaze to the floor. “It’s a mess of a story. Raised by my grandma, left at 18, heard years later he remarried and didn’t care about my existence further, his wife found out about me and met me in private…then the outbreak happened later and I went to see if they were alive because I had their address for the longest time…and all there was was a house in ruins”

“I’m sorry, sunshine”

“If he’s…still out there and our paths cross…I don’t think I’d want to be on this rock anymore”

________

Daryl kept banging on his cell door for what felt like days. Granted…it was. To be real with what’s going on in Daryl’s mind, he thought he would be beaten to a pulp at this point. Or put through even worse, mental abuse of some kind.

They’ve been treating him well?

His wound

Keeping him fed

He doesn’t quite understand it until Dwight opened the cell one night to give him a sandwich and decided to talk.

“Your woman almost ripped me a new one when I tried to feed yea dog food. She’s takin’ everything like a champ though…with a dad like that.” Dwight laughs. “Everything I had of yours, she almost killed me for. But daddy will do anythin’ to get her to smile. Even if she cries most nights”

“Why the fuck are you telling me this”

“You ain’t dead because she’s doing everything Negan asks of her. Her reward? We don’t hurt you” Dwight states before making his leave and shutting the door forcefully behind him.

Y/N laid in the bed given to her, in the room made just for her. She kept staring at the ceiling dressed in a black dress that someone pointed out was made for pointing out Negan’s wives. But that was shot down by Simon who was assigned to keep her at the Sanctuary and to be honest? Neither of them were happy about it.

“Yo! Princess, boss man wants yea” Simon knocks on the door as Y/N sighs bringing herself to the edge of her bed slipping her boots on before leaving the room.

The two walked to the conference like room and found a head on the table, an anxious Dwight, and an angry Negan.

“Good luck princess” Simon whispers to Y/N, leaving the room laughing.

The annoyance on her face grew, but immediately changed to anger and worry.

“Daryl escaped” Negan snapped the second he locked eyes with his kid. “Who did it.”

“I’ve been with you and in my room almost every hour of every day. Your GOON here doesn’t let me anywhere near Daryl’s fucking cell. Even when he’s not on watch” Y/N gave back the same energy her dad was producing. “You’re always so controlling of everyone around here but what happens when your eyes aren’t glued on your fucking prisoner. He escapes on his GODDAMN OWN”

In a split second, with no thinking before actions made, Negan grabbed her by the throat and forced her against the wall as the thud echoed in the room but the alarming sound was the crack that came from her skull when she made contact. Tears instantly started to stream down her cheeks as she held onto his wrist feeling his grip loosen while her eyes slowly fluttered open after the impact made them shut tight.

Daddy please don’t go

The leader of the saviors suddenly pulled away making her drop to her knees as she instantly pressed her hand to the back of her head noticing the blood on her hand when she retracted.

“You’re just…the same fucking monster…I’ve always known” Y/N sobbed through broken words as Negan towered her unable to move or breathe for the matter. Dwight looked at him a bit confused but a wave of concern came over him as he brought himself to Y/N not caring if she protested.

“Come on. We’ve got a doc” Dwight helped her to her feet directing her out of the room, glancing back to see Negan in his frozen state.

“Daddy please don’t go” The four year old cried hugging onto her father’s leg as Negan drags her agaisnt the carpet before forcefully shaking his leg to get her to fall on her butt.

The tears broke out as she sat on the carpet right in front of the main door.

“I…I can’t do this” Negan frowns picking up his suitcase after slipping on his jacket. “I never should’ve had you”

The pout that grew on the little one’s face as the tears streamed down her cheeks while no more sound escaped her.

“I never should’ve left you…” Negan whispers to himself while his own tears rolled off his cheeks.

It’s been days with nothing going on…nothing…not even a visit from his saviors to communities they have under their thumbs. If you were new to one? You wouldn’t be able to tell they were controlled by someone unless somebody told you. But even then, they didn’t collect every other week. Didn’t threaten anymore people.

Nothing happened. Then the radio gave off receiving static.

“Rick. We gotta talk”

Rick looks at his radio with concern before looking across the table at his partner as Michonne shared the same concern but was also littered with confusion and doubt. This could be a trap of some sorts.

While Negan may have done nothing. The group had gotten to work on lessen the Savior population (once Daryl returned) by attacking more outposts with the help of the Kingdom, the Hilltop, and few Oceanside…it was top priority while certain few wanted to get their person back.

“He could’ve killed her by now” Daryl frowns sitting with Maggie on the steps of the Barrington House as they all decided it be smart for him to stay there in case if they did look for him.

“She’s his daughter. He wanted her, I doubt he would’ve killed her…but something still could’ve happened” Maggie didn’t mean to plant anything in Daryl’s mind, granted he was already thinking of such, but it was overwhelming. When Daryl returned and Negan’s first visit to Alexandria, everyone Y/N was close to found out that she’s Negan’s daughter. It brought a lot of mix feelings but even with certain negative ones, everyone collectively agreed they wanted to get her back safely.

“Daryl…you think that Rick would hurt her?”

“What.” Daryl says sternly noticing how calm and collected Maggie presented herself after saying such.

“From what you’ve told me, Y/N and her father are estranged. He didn’t raise her. She’s nothing like him. It’s just…instead of running with fear, Rick is turning back to that scary version of himself when we first came to Alexandria.” Maggie frowns her finger tips gently brushing her barely showing pregnant belly. “I’m afraid of him hurting her indirectly. To be fair…when I found out, I wanted to do exactly that. But then I remember she’s this outgoing person who’s super smart and an amazing listener to every single concern a person may have…she doesn’t even have to know you long to care so deeply about you…she’s nothing like this monster but he will hurt her and Rick will break some part of her”

While all of such happened, the Sanctuary sort of collapsed within itself once Negan disappeared. He just left without a word and Simon tried taking his place but then the people that Negan tortured under his boot for so long, started to fight back finally. Y/N watched it all unfold while packing up her stuff and planning her route out but it came clear to those die hard followers that she’s something that can bring him back.

Which he was planning to do while he stood in the old outpost, the first one the group attacked that led to their deaths. Negan sighed when Rick didn’t immediately come into view but once he did, he wasn’t alone. He didn’t have the whole group or those who’ve lost their partners. All he needed was Michonne and his son Carl. Knowing they’d keep him centered.

“If this is a trap, the others know to come rain hellfire on—-“

“The Sanctuary is currently imploding. None of’em like Simon and won’t follow him. Whatever you want to do to me, I’ll let yea do. As long as you don’t punish her for my actions”

Carl’s expression softened hearing such as he didn’t think about that. His dad was just mad and terrified of what else could happen since Negan hasn’t done anything to them. Little do they know the shit he’s been putting his kid through mentally, and the few times physically that one would think she endured it all for her family.

“Dad. This seems…like the truth, but we still need to be careful”

“You should listen to the kid.” Negan states only for Rick to take that moment and right hook him making him stumble a bit as Michonne quickly pulled Rick back knowing he was about to do more. “I deserved that”

“You deserve a whole lot worse”

“And I’m telling you…” The man straightens himself up brushing the blood from his busted lip on the back of his hand. “Do whatever you want to me”

Before Rick could get to say his response, Carl stepped in front of him to physically cut him off.

“Why? Why are you rolling over on your back now? After you killed Glenn…killed Abraham…killed all those people just to gain superiority but we just…” Carl couldn’t connect the dots, even if they were right there, guess part of him wanted him to say it.

“I hurt her.” Negan stated watching all of them tense. “I hurt my daughter. I tried so hard to get some fuckin’ relationship back after what I’ve done in the past. But the present was never mine. Then I really hurt her…for something someone else did, and I could’ve killed her…I’ll do whatever yea want me to do, and let you do whatever you want to me…for her promised safety”

________

Daryl sat on the porch checking his bike after they had gotten it back from the outpost. He felt her presence and felt it when Y/N brought her arms around his waist.

“You alright?”

“You know, whatever happens with whatever comes next…I’d always choose you”

The archer brought himself to turn toward her so he could wrap his arms around her kissing the top of her head whispering again asking if she was okay. She was.

________

She will always want to be in his arms.

Y/N stood outside the Sanctuary or what it used to be as people left…communities took people in, die hard followers were skeptical but given a second chance, Simon ran off, and she stayed at the place that kept her mentally beaten. But with her father, the Grimes (minus Jude), Daryl, Maggie, the king Ezekiel, Cyndie from Oceanside, and those who wanted to witness Negan get punished.

People wanted him dead. Rick wanted him to rot. So a bit of both happened. Y/N watched Rick put all his anger out on Negan and every punch made her flinch. She felt the tears come but no sound escaped her. Maggie brought herself to the other side of her friend while Daryl was on the other. She carefully took her hand into hers feeling her squeeze.

He’s a monster. He did all this horrible things and even with a good like…getting rid of it all…the pain was still there but so was the child from before the hell.

Michonne grabbed Rick’s shoulder when she thought Negan had enough but she also had enough of her friend watching her partner beat up her father.

“Patch’em up” Rick scoffs turning away from Y/N knowing if he looked at her, the regret will build. The new doc that his son found on a walk in the woods, Siddiq, took care of patching up Negan while Gabriel and Aaron tied him up taking him back to the cell that Morgan had made.

It was late in the night when Daryl felt the emptiness beside him and decided to get up looking for his partner who simply sat on the steps leading to the main floor. Her tired eyes said it all as he wished she had woken him to the nightmare she endured alone. He brought himself to sit beside Y/N as she flinched when he tried to check the bandage that was on the back of her head. The doc at the Sanctuary had to shave a part to get stitches in there after…yknow.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah…”

“No…I mean, does it still hurt” Daryl frowns watching her tears build up as she continued to hug her knees to her chest hiding her face feeling him bring his arm around her. “You should’ve never had to deal with that shit, and shouldn’t have seen what happen”

“I couldn’t…let him hurt you or my family…I just…the words won’t come out clear in my mind…I just couldn’t lose anymore”

Daryl watched her unravel as he didn’t let her go bringing her into his embrace and into his lap. Holding her desperately close as Y/N latched onto his person afraid they’d fall apart if she let go.

________

“You can have everythin’ and you still choose him?”

Y/N frowns looking at her father after she was forced to put on the outfit given to her. She looks around at the room surrounding her before locking eyes with the man that helped bring her into this world.

“He fixed what you broke” She states crossing her arms and holding her ground. “He didn’t have to, hell I did my best to keep my past to myself. But he loves me, protects me, makes me feel wanted…”

Negan wanted to speak but watched her hold her hand up to shut him up.

“I will always choose Daryl Dixon, over every man on this god forsaken planet”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #that took a while #four more after this then requests will be open #after a break ofc… #hope you enjoy this one

[autocon23]

Just Keep Swimming (That’s How The Song Went, Right?) - Chapter 42 - AutoCon23 - The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms [Archive of Our Own]

New chapter!!

Enjoy!!

Taglist:

@phoenixblack89 @lilythemadqueen @archerangel @twdeadfanfic @littlegodzilla @fandom-cuties @livingdeadblondequeen

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #boondock saints fanfic #boondock saints fanfiction #connor macmanus #connor macmanus x reader #connor x ofc x murphy #daryl fanfiction #connor macmanus x daryl dixon #murphy macmanus x reader x connor macmanus #connor macmanus x oc x murphy macmanus x daryl dixon #murphy macmanus x daryl dixon #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus #normanreedus #norman #norman reedus #sean patrick flanery #the walking saints #the boondock saints fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fic #boondock saints #daryl dixon smut

[fandomsaremykryponite]

Just wondering if we will get to see another sexy MacManus shower scene but now Daryl will be participating instead of eavesdropping? I’m going to suck you dry Dixon

.......maybe.....

#boondock saints fanfic #boondock saints fanfiction #murphy macmanus x reader x connor macmanus #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #thanks for the ask! #answered asks #author ramblings #connor macmanus #connor x ofc x murphy

[kaizenwaus]

five hundred sixteen days gone

The worn off denim did nothing to protect the woman's knees from the sand and small stones that made the gravel adorning the forest's ground, not even shifting her weight from one knee to another would ease the pain of her skin fighting not to break. Although all the stinging on her skin and burning on her muscles was nothing compared to the fear and uncertainty that surrounded the clearing.

Everything was... Perfectly set for this exact moment. Almost as if they had taken their time preparing this area for this. The woman could imagine the bald man with the thick mustache cutting down trees that morning, meanwhile the blond man with the burnt face cleaned everything off as well as he planned how to lure the group to this location. Then one of them had to tell the rest of their friends about the place and the time to meet up, and they had to decide the formation of all their vehicles and the armed men. If that had been the case, they did a good job. The scene was, in fact, quite... Intimidating.

The group of survivors, sinners of innocence and naivety, were on their knees, forming half a circle in front of the motorhome that Eugene had been driving just minutes ago. There were also a couple of cars and other vehicles on the sides, their headlights dazzling the survivors and their engines loud in contrast to the silence of the night.

Behind them stood the army of men and women that called themselves the Saviours, each of them holding a firearm if not two. In front of them there were only three men: the bald man with a distinctive mustache, the blond dude with a burnt face, and... The man. The boss. The leader. Negan himself.

He looked just like Sierra had imagined him: disgustingly smug. He wore dark pants, with a leather belt hanging way too low to be comfortable. It was a cold night, so he also wore a leather jacket with a red scarf around his neck. All of this paired up with leather boots and his weapon of choice: a baseball bat.

This bat, whose name was Lucille (as the man had introduced her), had barbed wire around the top of it, which seemed kind of useless against the undead but was incredibly painful for the living.

Eenie...

After introducing himself and the bat, the man explained the reason why they decided to meet up on this beautiful starry night. He paced from one end of the line of survivors to the other, swinging his bat around as he talked and talked and talked...

The survivors were sweating, the bravest ones looking around frantically to find a way to get out of this situation, but the man did not even let them finish a thought as he laughed loudly or got too close to someone with Lucille.

Meenie...

It was nauseating how free and careless he was, walking around as he sang this stupid little song for kids. Even though he was intimidating, Sierra truly questioned if the man was capable of killing one of them randomly. Deep down she thought this was just his little show, that his random pick was going to be a core member of the group: Rick, Daryl, Michonne, or even herself, she thought. There was also the possibility that Negan only wanted to weaken the leader by killing someone close to him: Carl or Michonne.

Would he really pick someone randomly?

Miney...

Sierra wanted to think a human would not be able to murder someone in cold blood, without a true motive. There was a motive, denying it would be straight up lying, but there were a fair amount of people in this line up that did not participate in said killing.

Questioning human behavior in the context of a literal zombie apocalypse was somewhat difficult if they were trying not to be hypocrites too, so maybe he was going to do as he said. Maybe, as he sang and as he pointed randomly at different survivors he was truly picking someone to kill. Maybe, for him this was just a game.

Mo...

The wielder of the named bat stood in front of Carl, causing everyone to cringe at the thought of the teenager becoming this psychopath's victim. But they were able to breathe again as the man continued his game – ironically, considering that if Carl was not the one tagged then the odds of being of them just rose.

Catch...

Rosita.

A tiger...

Rick.

By...

Eugene.

His toe...

Daryl.

My mother...

Michonne.

Told me...

Glenn.

To pick...

Aaron.

The very best one...

Maggie.

And you're...

Sierra. Negan left his bat staring at the blonde for a few more seconds than anybody else before her, he even bent down to stare right at her, taking in the hateful look the woman was giving him. Without breaking eye contact, the man smirked, winked at her and took blind aim with his bat as he sketched the last word of his song: it.

Abraham.

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything..." the man started speaking with a smirk on his face after he looked at who Lucille had chosen, slowly and almost teasingly walking away from the blonde woman to face his victim "Cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we'll start"

The bravery and strength with which Abraham presented himself to his soon-to-be murderer was highly admirable. The red-haired man refused to be submissive to the man's inflated ego, he could not forgive himself if his actions fed that man's grotesque and disgusting attitude. Much to Abraham's dismay, this façade only made Negan both flattered and challenged, making him want to prove what he could be able to do. To prove how much of a cold-blooded killer he could be. How much he truly did not care about their lives and only about what they could do for him.

"You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry..." the man chuckled, firmly gripping his beloved bat and lifting it up slowly "Hell, you're all gonna be doing that"

Abraham was standing straight, subtly giving his most recent lover the hand signal they had translated to "I love you" as she silently broke down before everyone. On the opposite side, his ex-girlfriend could not even watch the scene. Watching the man she had learnt to love standing tall on his knees, keeping eye contact with the monster that was about to end his life. Not everyone was able to watch, it was not only Rosita (his former partner) that looked away into the distance as tears streamed down her face. Others, who were not as close to Abraham as Sasha (his lover) was, also dared to watch as Negan cruelly attacked the man.

Gasps, sobs, cries... Those were the noises that took over the crickets as the bat was smashed against Abraham's skull. The echo of the hit was painful, you could almost hear the metal spikes digging into his skin, the blood gushing down his face, Abraham's incoherent mumbles as he tried to speak his last words: "Suck... My... Nuts"

Negan laughed at him before hitting him again, this time harder and leaving him on the ground. He even taunted him, repeating his last words as he looked to his followers to further enjoy his mockery of the victim. He hit him again, and again, and again, and again... He fully raged at the corpse, letting all his anger out on the innocent man's man until his red hair was too faded with the blood to point it out. In Negan's head, this was his revenge for all the Saviors Rick's group had murdered.

If the roles had been reversed, Sierra would not have considered this enough of a punishment. But her perspective of the situation could not let her think too much about it, at least rationally. Her mind was occupied by the little drops of blood that had fallen on Rosita's face, or how Sasha just had to witness the death of her lover very much like she had to a few years ago (without all the cruelty, surely).

The violence and helplessness surrounding the scene were too overwhelming for the woman to be able to have any other thoughts that did not involve wishing for Negan's death or planning how to murder him and his entire group. It was not only overwhelming for her, but also for everyone and everything around her. It was visible, palpable... So noticeable that not even the undead (or walkers, as Sierra had grown accustomed to call them) dared to approach the small clearing in the forest. Not even the walking dead dared to interrupt Negan's moment, his superiority and control over everyone else scarily good as well as incredibly infuriating.

Sierra's stomach was growling in disgust, her breath going faster, her heart pumping what felt like lava in her chest... She bit her tongue, pinched the skin on her wrists to keep herself from fighting back or talking back to him.

"You guys, look at my dirty girl!" the man yelled, showing off his bloody bat and swinging it around in the air – bits and pieces of Abraham's something flying off, until he just pointed the weapon at Rosita, who still could not dare to look at it "Sweetheart... Look at this"

Her eyes were fixated on the red tinted gravel, too shocked to even register tha taunting words of the man responsible for it. Negan enjoyed the state she was in, he watched her and smiled at how miserable she was and how powerful that made him, continuing his tormenting: "Oh, were you together? That sucks!"

Each word that left his mouth was one more log of wood thrown into the fire growing within Sierra. Her chest was growing tighter, her heart pumping faster and her skin getting hotter... Her whole body became a bomb, the clock showing how many seconds until it exploded being each and every word Negan directed towards her friend.

"But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this" he laughed.

Ten seconds. Ten more cruel words is all she needed...

"Red -- and hell, he was, is, and will ever be"

The blonde woman growled in an animalistic way as she jumped off the ground and lunged towards the man, grabbing him by his crimson scarf to hold him in place and punching his face with her other hand. She was fisting the scarf so hard that he did not even move one inch, his neck and jaw taking all the pain and movement. Before she could land another hit, two of his men grabbed her from behind and pulled her away from him, attempting to tackle her to the ground.

Attempting.

Sierra managed to avoid being immobilized by the two Saviours, pushing and punching them until one of them was knocked out by the motorhome and the other one was in a headlock.

She heard Rick calling her name as a warning, while Negan frowned at her in pure and raw anger. He huffed, and she watched. Everyone watched, holding their breaths, as Negan and Sierra stared at each other in a silent war.

"Let him go" a man behind her talked as she felt a crossbow she knew too damn well pressed against the back of her "Or this will be the last thing you do"

She looked briefly towards her found family, all of them scared of what was about to happen to either them or her. It was Carl that slightly nodded to her, letting her know that the best thing she could do right now is listen.

Very slowly, she let go of the man and raised her hands in the air. The man walked away from her, holding his neck in discomfort, meanwhile the man behind her kicked the back of her knee and grabbed her hair to make her look up at Negan.

"Who do you think you are?" he spat angrily at her, almost in a whisper.

"Your worst fucking nightmare" she smirked.

As soon as those words left her mouth, she was hit by the consequences of her own actions. Lucille collided against her cheek with almost superhuman strength, breaking her skin with the force of impact and the barbed wire dragging against her flesh. It was such a strong blow that Sierra fell to her side, barely managing to collect herself with her hands.

"That!" Negan spoke to the rest of the group while pointing at the injured woman with his bat "That is a no-no! That whole thing! Not one bit of that shit flies here!"

His words reverberated against her skull as her heartbeat moved to the bleeding wound on her face, her whole vision turning red and in her ears growing an uncomfortable ringing. Someone close to her, probably the man that threatened her with Daryl's crossbow, dragged his unconscious colleague away from the motorhome – thus leaving a clear path for Sierra to crawl under the vehicle and hide as Negan ranted.

"Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with... But I'm a man of my word. I already told you people, first one's free, then what'd I say? I said I would shut that shit down!"

Sierra was halfway under the motorhome when someone dragged her out by her ankle, exposing her torso and dragging her skin against the gravel. The man turned her around, making her face him as he pointed the crossbow to her head. She blindly tried to cover her face, her hands clumsy as her vision was deprived of focus and other colors beside red, still she was able to see the blond man with a burnt face speaking to her: "Where do you think you're going?"

"Please..." she whispered, struggling to speak as her mouth filled up with her own blood.

"You've got guts, lady" Negan looked down at her, before turning to the blond man "Dwight, load her up, I like her"

The man, now known as Dwight, grabbed the woman by her hair and dragged her towards a black van. She kicked her legs and yelled in pain, in way too much pain to try to put on a façade in front of the Saviors. In a desperate attempt to avoid being taken, she went to grab... Something. Her left hand flew to the floor, trying to grab some kind of anchor that would keep her from being abducted.

But it was the anchor that found her. Glenn's hand went over hers and gave her a reassurance squeeze, too fast to be noticed by anyone else besides them. She knew what it meant. She knew it was a silent promise, an oath to her that she would not be held against her will too long – and he was going to make sure of that.

Dwight threw her in the back of the van rather aggressively, making her whole body ache more (if that was even possible). She used the last bit of her strength to lunge towards him, but her fist was met by the van's doors being closed right in front of her.

"Feisty, just how I like them" she could hear Negan talking to her people, dwelling on his own gain and the group's loss of a great asset "She's mine now, so... Back to it!"

Sierra only managed to hear a loud thud, similar to the sound of Lucille crashing against Abraham's skull, accompanied by gasps and a woman crying out: "No!"

She hit the van's doors in frustration, hearing the suffering of her friends combined with her own physical pain becoming too much for her, until she eventually felt herself give up to the blood loss and overstimulation. Her knees got weaker and she could no longer hold herself up, her stomach growled as her chest heaved, her heart finally relaxing and her face going numb. She brought her hand up to her open wound, feeling the wetness and roughness of blood mixed with gravel against the tips of her fingers – perfect cocktail for an infection, she thought.

Her back was resting against the van's walls, feeling how they vibrated from the noises coming from outside. She tried to fight off the tiredness that overcame her, but her eyelids seemed to have grown independent from her brain's orders. Slowly all the tension left her body as she felt herself weighting more as she let go... Pain and life threatening anemia made her shut her body down to a comatose state, the last words she was able to register from outside echoing through the van's walls:

No exceptions.

#the walking dead #shane walsh #fanfic #original character #sierra walsh #jon bernthal #negan smith #lucille #glenn rhee #maggie rhee #shane walsh x oc #rick grimes #carl grimes #daryl dixon #katheryn winnick #original female character #shane walsh x ofc #twd fanfiction

[anjenha]

Omg AI can’t make JDMs Negan, but look at these pictures AI think might go with my The Living and The Dead fan fiction 😅 The lat one is so bad!

#twd daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #walking dead #writing #fanfiction #butterflyfish writes #Daryl x OFC #ai art #ai generated #AI isn’t that great

[lady-phasma]

Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 2 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Kinda Friends to Lovers, Awkward Flirting, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD, mentions of past SA, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: I'm terrible at these, it's just more fluffy smutty stuff like chapter 1. No beta. 3.6k words.

They lay in the fading light, drowsy, him on his stomach, her on her side. Kristina had tucked an arm under her head and was tracing lazy circles and swirls on his back with her other hand. His breathing was slow and relaxed. She watched his back rise and fall with each breath. Sometimes the shiny scars caught the light. She was brave and occasionally traced one, outlined it, caressed it. But mostly she stayed away from them. She wanted him to feel her adoration not feel like a freak show for someone to stare at. She understood that feeling too well.

Their friendship had graduated quickly as a lot of things seemed to do in this new world. There wasn’t time to get to know people the way one used to. There had been a couple of nights of safety and beer with him. One night of utter drunkenness with some others in Alexandria. Mostly there had been stolen moments of respite between runs and work details and fear. She had told him a lot of things about her past and intuited a lot about his.

Daryl stirred and turned his head to face her. She smiled down at him. She felt so relaxed with him. Possibly she had never lain naked without even a sheet with anyone in her life. She was honestly amazed at how comfortable they both were.

“Whatcha thinkin’?” he asked somewhat sleepily.

“Lots,” she replied. “Too much to say right now. Also thinkin’ about how perfect your ass is.” She drug her fingertips down to the hollow of his lower back but not quite to his ass. She watched a shiver run through him. Well it is perfect, she thought.

“Sure,” he replied. She could almost hear him roll his eyes. He brushed his knuckles over one of her nipples. He shifted to lay on his side and kissed her nipple, her breast, her shoulder, gently he kissed her lips. He let his lips linger and breathed her in. Then he rolled and stretched like a giant cat, arching his back and groaning. They weren’t young anymore and they would hurt tomorrow. The muscles they had used today were different than the ones they used when killing walkers. When he laid back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, she rested a hand on his stomach just below his chest. He was so tough, so taught. After all this time she was still soft in places, smooth, round. He apparently had no body fat, just exquisite muscle.

She liked touching him. She couldn’t get enough of him. But it nearly broke her heart to really see that his chest was as covered with scars as his back. New ones over older, faded ones. Dark, deep scars alongside barely visible ones. He was a tough motherfucker for sure. Not all of these were from something horrible and scary but how many were? She had so many questions. Which were made since the world ended? Which from before? How many from The Sanctuary? All horribly invasive questions that she would never ask, only wait for him to drop crumbs of information.

“What’s this from?” he asked and she jumped a little. Almost as if he had read her mind he touched one of her scars. It tickled when he did. It wasn’t large but it was noticeable. It sat low on her belly just to the right of center. It had a smaller, less obvious sister on the left.

“Oh,” she rolled half onto her back but didn’t pull away from his caressing fingertips. “Before everything, I had a partial hysterectomy.” She laughed a little. “I didn’t want kids and I had a condition that couldn’t be cured so they took out most of my lady bits. They left one ovary and my cervix. Because of my age I guess, pretty young.”

His eyes were wide but not judgmental. A little concerned perhaps so she explained.

“Endometriosis. A big word that means a lot of pain and bullshit but isn’t usually life threatening. Fortunately for us I made this decision ages ago and that’s why I didn’t freak when you didn’t wear a condom,” she smirked and winked at him.

“So ya can’t ever…?” he trailed off.

“Nope, no baby making equipment in there,” she grinned. She stroked his arm from wrist to shoulder, still trying to touch every inch of his skin. “It was definitely a perk after the world went to shit, no periods either.”

His hand rested on her lower belly, almost spanning the width of her. He felt like a giant sometimes even though she wasn’t particularly short and he wasn’t abnormally tall. She liked the illusion. She sighed, enjoying the weight of his hand, the ease of being with him. She felt his fingers tracing her scar again, finding the other of the pair, following the jagged lines of her stretch marks. Walkers were a great weight loss plan, she hadn’t always had this small body. And she had never let anyone touch those much less felt like she could almost enjoy it, especially with his rough hands. But it did still make her twinge with that familiar insecurity, just a little, and she felt herself accidentally recoil. Without missing a beat Daryl grabbed her hips and pulled her on top of him, kissing her roughly. He held her for a moment, her laying on him, his hands on her ass, her head on his chest.

Her mind raced with all the things she wanted to do, say, ask, and then her stomach growled. She held her breath hoping it had been her imagination until he started laughing. It was contagious. He laid her on the bed, still laughing a bit while she giggled and covered her face with her hands.

“Hungry, huh?” he goaded.

She nodded and answered with a muffled uhuh behind her hands, more giggles. He stood up, grabbed some presumably filthy jeans from the floor, and yanked them on. She couldn’t help watching him, jeans sitting low on his hips, as he walked to the kitchenette.

He came back to the bed and plopped down. He brought what was beginning to be the norm for every meal: part of a loaf of homemade bread, some fruit, some meat jerky that was mostly just salt and probably venison. He sat, legs crossed, barefoot, hair a mess, no shirt, and looked as happy as a little kid with a new toy. He might not smell like he was still in the woods but he ate his food like he still was. This thought made her giggle and he looked up at her with a side-eye that sent her into snorts of laughter. She yanked the sheet over her lap as she sat up to eat before he inhaled everything.

“Chew often, Dixon?” she teased while trying not to inhale a bite of bread.

“I’ll teach ya to laugh at me,” he growled as he crammed the last of his bread in his mouth. She squealed and he pinned her down. Food crushed between them, flew off the bed. He continued chewing loudly and comically while kissing her sides, her stomach, her neck, and chest. His unshaven face tickled her even more. She raked her hands through his hair and laughed harder than she had in years. Her stomach and sides ached with laughter. He finally swallowed the last of his bread and took a deep breath, flopping onto his back with dramatic flair and a huge exhale.

Still struggling to catch her breath Kristina laid her head on his chest. They both stared at the ceiling, small giggles bubbling out of her occasionally. She felt around above her head until she found his arm and she hugged it across her breasts. He maneuvered the sheet down from her chest so there was nothing between their skin and cupped one breast.

Dog had padded into the room to investigate the commotion. He looked at Daryl with accusation.

“Ah shit,” Daryl groaned as he stood up. “Imma take ‘em out.” Before he stepped off the mattress he placed a kiss on her forehead.

She heard them when they came back in: some yipping and a lots of whosagoodboy. Daryl kicked off his boots before sitting on the bed.

“You got one of those nasty rolled cigarettes handy?” she asked.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he went into the living room and came back with a small leather pouch. Like so many guys she had known in high school and college were able to do with weed he balanced the components on his lap. Pinch, roll, lick, voila. He handed her the nearly-perfect cigarette and started working on his own. She scooted up so she was leaning with her back against the wall. Still naked, still relishing being comfortable naked. He lit his cigarette and held the flame out to hers then clicked the lighter shut. He was fastidious in a lot of his actions but not his housekeeping, he dropped the pouch on the floor and sat on the bed facing her. Cigarette clamped in the corner of his mouth he reached down and snagged an empty bottle off the floor for their ashtray.

She adored the way he sat cross legged and grinned at the thought that he hadn’t put his underwear on, grinned that she could take his jeans off and have him again if she wanted. She tapped her ashes into the bottle and picked some tobacco off her lips.

“Damn this shit is rank, Dixon,” she exhaled a cloud of the stale smoke. “But thank you for sharing.”

He grunted toward her, ashed, and took another long drag on his smoke. “It is but it’s all we got. Nobody’s tryin’ to grow anything ya can’t eat.” They smoked mostly in silence.

Kristina put her cigarette out. She stood up to go pee, wobbling a bit on her weak legs. She wasn’t going to take the sheet with her but wasn’t quite ready to walk naked in front of him. She looked down and spotted one of his button down shirts in the floor. She leaned over, holding the wall for balance. He was finishing his cigarette and watching her. She dropped the sheet, slipped the shirt on, and started to button it.

“Where ya goin’?” he mumbled.

“Gotta pee,” she flashed an almost embarrassed smile at him.

“Unh-uh,” he wasn’t smiling. “Take that off.” He tipped his head toward her, indicating the shirt. She groaned in her head, it couldn’t have been that easy. She slowly shrugged the shirt off her shoulders. She hadn’t had time to button it so when she shrugged it started to fall, catching only on her breasts and now-hard nipples. She tugged at the hem and it fell away completely. She was too aware of her breasts while she was standing, how different they looked from when she was laying down. Ugh she thought again because literally every body part she had she now wanted to hide. Wanted him to stop looking at her. He didn’t stop.

“Better,” he said. He jerked his head toward the bathroom and took a long drag on his cigarette. His sign that she was free to go but to do so she had to be naked. She wanted to die. Shrivel up and disappear. But she set her jaw and carefully stepped off the mattress. She was conscious of every imperfection and movement, feeling things she realized she hadn’t felt since before. She wasn’t angry with him exactly, not thrilled but not angry. She felt cracks in her armor. But she put one foot in front of the other and made her way to the bathroom, in reality only a dozen steps or so but in her excruciating thoughts it felt like miles.

He never took his eyes off her after he put out his cigarette. He shifted, adjusted for the increasing erection he was getting, his pants becoming uncomfortable. She didn’t close the door all the way and he listened to everything. Something about her allowing him to hear this excited him. He tugged at his jeans and tried to be still when she came back into the bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of her. She walked toward him carrying the lantern from the bathroom. He hadn’t even noticed that it was almost dark now. It cast an unusual shadow, lighting her from the side where the lantern hung from her hand. Her full hips, the slight slope of her belly meeting the curve above her naked pussy, he couldn’t look at anything but her.

She sat the lantern next to the bed. Before she could get back on the mattress his hands caught her hips and centered her in front of him. He was sitting so low that his eyes were almost level with her pussy and she blushed, hard. Her hands flenched to cover herself and he stopped them. Even in the dim light he could see her blush move down her face and neck and flood her chest. He looked up at her leaning in closer and closer. She was mortified but incredibly grateful that she had kept up shaving at every opportunity. She was pretty sure the end of the world had ushered in the revival of the huge bush but she couldn’t stand it. Somehow shaving her pussy completely felt like armor, powerful, and all signs pointed to Daryl Dixon liking it.

“Damn,” he sighed as he closed the distance and kissed her just above her clit. Kristina felt her head swim, thought she might pass out, and he had her wrists. She couldn’t hold onto him for balance but she also realized he would never let her fall. Her vision blurred but she forced herself to focus on his searching eyes. He was looking up at her. Disheveled hair, scruffy beard, heavy-lidded eyes, and he was kissing. Just kissing but she was shaking all over. And then it wasn’t just kissing.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, exhaling a hum against her. His tongue was slow and gentle. He had never done this before. The porn his brother used to watch didn’t make it feel like this. That stuff made everything look… gross. But none of this was, would be. This felt completely natural. She tasted wonderful, salty and a little bitter but he thought part of that was from their sex earlier, that if he did this first it would be nothing but salt and sweet and whatever this other amazing taste/smell was. He wanted to go slowly, not just for her but because this really did seem natural. He could feel her tremble while he held her. That he wasn’t entirely sure was natural but he was still learning to pay attention to her queues.

He paused and listened, looking up at her. Her breathing was shallow and not at all like how it had been before. This was more like gasping. He stood up and cupped her face in his hands.

“What did I do?” he asked softly, gently.

She shook her head in hands. “Nothing, not you. I need to sit for a moment.”

She sat down on the mattress and had the silliest thought Well fuck, that escalated quickly. She knew what to do but not how to communicate with him in this moment. Especially in a way that wouldn’t wound him, push him away, or make him doubt his instincts, his perfect instincts.

He didn’t reach to comfort her or hold her or touch her at all. He wasn’t afraid or anxious. He was confused and his brow knitted together expressing that but otherwise he was a rock, solid, reliable, there. So she took a deep breath and struggled to find things on her list: 5 green things or something similar. She did reach out for his hand while she scanned the room, sure she looked like a wild animal but not able to care. He held her hand or, more accurately, let his hand be squeezed. He used his other hand to pull the sheet over her. He thought she would want that. She finally mumbled the last brown thing of 5 because goddamn if Daryl didn’t have the most monochromatic life ever with only brown, grey, or black to choose from. This made her smile. She was coming back to herself, grounding. He noticed the smile and moved a little closer to her.

“Hey,” he whispered, searching her face for some clue as to what he needed to do. “Hey. Ya okay?”

“Um, yeah, I will be, I just need…” she mumbled. “Water maybe?” So of course he got her some. She gulped it and breathed and leaned back against the wall.

“Hi,” she opened her eyes and looked at him. “So I can explain that or we can pretend it didn’t happen and talk about it later but I have to tell you either way: not your fault.” She reached for his hand again. He took hers and gently, soothing, rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

“Ya can tell me anythin,” he said, his shoulders visibly relaxed. “Imma good listener,” he teased her and they both smiled.

“Well, if you were anyone else, Daryl,” she said, “I probably wouldn’t but you are truly the coolest cat, no judgment, and ya have this fundamental understanding that life hands out shit nonstop.” She smiled to soften her words but he looked down at their hands anyway. God now she wanted him closer, pressed against her, wanted that small, safe feeling.

“Do me a kindness, Dixon?” she asked. “Come over here?” He nodded, let her hand go, and sat beside her, back against the wall. She was working up the words, the ways to speak around things, to communicate pretty awful shit without saying it. Plus she didn’t want to talk about it all night or have it tarnish everything they had done before. It was helping that he was next to her, gave her some stability as she stumbled forward with this pseudo-confession.

“So ya know how I told you I had seen shit too, like before, and we talked about some of it, or mostly I talked and you grunted?” she began, throwing him a smile to emphasize the teasing. He wasn’t having it and reached out and took her hand in both of his and just rested them in his lap.

“Well when I was young, younger than I want to say, but it’s important so I have to,” she watched Daryl’s jaw clench. “When I was four years old a man did things… I’m not comfortable talking about. You know what PTSD is?” She continued when he shrugged, yeah/kinda/maybe. “Well it’s a bunch of words that mean ‘something bad happened that fucked you up for a long damn time.’ Most people know it ‘cause soldiers get it from combat. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Means that a trauma was bad enough, wrong enough, that our brains can’t deal with it. Shit, I figure now everyone has it and it’s just the human condition but before it was a diagnosis. Anyway, short version, some people who have this get flashbacks, like the thing is happening again right then and there. Like those Vietnam Vets in movies who hear a helicopter and dive under a table. That shit’s not made up. That is fact. And it fucking sucks.” Her voice broke on the last two words and what she feared would happen, did. She started to cry silently.

God fucking dammit I didn’t want to do this, she yelled in her head. But perfect Dixon only waited and rubbed her hand. She sniffled and gulped some air. She wanted to get this done.

“One of the things he did to me I can see and hear and feel when the flashback comes and unfortunately it’s what you started to do. So I kinda go into survival mode, well my brain does, and I don’t get a choice.” She looked at him, tried to read something in his face this time and was startled to see his eyes were wet. He wasn’t going to cry but she knew then that he had them. She had suspected, as any good psychologist would, that he had PTSD from childhood trauma of some sort but she wasn’t positive his manifested with flashbacks. Now she was. Her protective instincts kicked in and she reached toward him, every intention to ease his pain but he intercepted her. He pressed her back against his chest and she curled her legs up next to his, not quite in his lap. He put both his arms around her and she let her head drop back onto his chest. She closed her eyes.

“So that was not anything you did. And hey, check this out,” she turned a little awkwardly to make sure he was listening. Satisfied she put her head back. “I want you to do it. I mean I really, really do. I want Daryl’s mouth and only his mouth on my cunt.” She felt his hips shift a little when she said the last word. “I just need to work up to it or have some notice. It’s perfectly normal and even wonderful that you want to do that. I just can’t do it without some mental preparation. Maybe you know things like that in your life, ya kind hafta get your mind right first? So yeah, too heavy for you?”

He took a deep breath and cautiously said “Heavy, sure, but I got ya.” He sighed and tightened his arms around her.

“So does that mean you still wanna go down on me? Try again soon?”

“Fuck yeah,” he replied, the gravelly words vibrating through his chest into her. “Hell yeah I do. Ya make me wanna do a lot.”

“Good, that’s the best answer a woman could hope for.”

Chapter 3

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion smut #cw sa mention #tw sa mention #cw ptsd #daryl x oc #daryl dixon x ofc #twd fanfiction #demisexual daryl

[the-dixon-effect]

Lover, you should've come over

A/N: i had this idea a while ago just never got around to writing it. it's v fluffy, a little angsty and just the right amount of trauma, and the title from jeff buckley ofc. hope you enjoy lovelies :')

era: season 6, pre-Negan Alexandria

prompt: "Ya don't ever have to say sorry. Not to me."

summary: Y/N is feeling particularly affected by her past trauma sometime during the group's transition to the suburban atmosphere of Alexandria.

words: 1.5k

pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

warnings: self-harm, anxiety, suggestive

9pm The garage; dark, gloomy, the perfect hiding spot.

The rest of the group was having dinner, courteously cooked by Carol, in the dining area of your shared house. Rick was right, it was going to take some considerable time before everyone properly adjusted to the strange atmosphere of the unaffected suburban paradise that was Alexandria. It seemed, however, that despite the incredible amount of time your people, your family, had spent surviving outside these walls, everybody was fitting in just fine.

The houses were strange, untouched, and the people even stranger. It was like this tiny pocket of the new world was a time capsule, a preserved artefact of an ancient time, all but forgotten to most. It felt like if you were to get too close, immerse yourself too much, the time would come when this place would come crashing down, and bring you down with it. Not only did this place feel like a fever dream about the old world, it also brought back certain memories from the past that you'd tried so desperately to leave behind.

So here you were, an empty seat at the dining room table. You pressed your back against the wall and hugged your legs to your chest. You wondered if they would even notice you weren't there.

Almost-silent sniffles were the only sounds that filled the dim room. The last of the daylight filtered through the tiny gap between the garage door and the ground. You rolled up the sleeves of your flannel shirt to reveal a checkerboard of familiar scratches and cuts, only half visible due to the distinct lack of light in the room. Your head rolled backwards, almost on its own, and hit the wall with a thud. Your eyes swelled with tears just as quick as the memories had come flooding back.

Maybe it wasn't this place. Or the people. Maybe it was just you. No point running now, you thought. You can escape from everything and everyone you love, but you'll never escape yourself, a part of you tried to tell yourself. No matter how far you run, your past, your scars, they will always remain.

9:30pm Despite Y/N's assumption that her absence at dinner would go unnoticed, she was wrong. A certain archer's eyes searched for yours but failed to meet them across the table. "Where's Y/N?" he asked, filling the silence. When all he received was a fleeting glance around the room from members of the group, he swiftly returned to his former position of silence.

"She's probably over at Aaron and Eric's. I heard they were having a couple people over for dinner tonight," said Michonne, a little dismissively.

Daryl shared your feelings about this strange community, and he too understood your lack of trust. Even before adjusting to the end of the world, he certainly would have felt uneasy in a place like this. People like him, like you, they're not supposed to be living in a place like this, pretending to forget about the world outside the walls. Paradise is no place for us, he thought.

Once dinner was finished and the chatter had died down, Daryl slipped off in an effort to find you, and he couldn't help but worry.

9:45pm After searching the whole damn neighbourhood and finding no one who knew where you were, he started to assume the worst. What if she left, ran away somehow? What if she went on a run and got hurt? No, no, he couldn't lose you, not when the both of you had just got here.

Suddenly he remembered the conversation he had with you last night, out on the porch. The stars were out, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you could look up and admire them in somewhat safety. And they were beautiful. And the two of you sat and talked and talked and just watched those stars. He loved to just listen to you, in truth, he wanted to hear all your stories. Even the bad ones, the regretful ones, perhaps he just needed to hear your voice. He thought back to something you'd said, and his mind suddenly went overdrive with worry. A particular memory you'd recalled, and said that you'd never told anybody this before, alluding to an especially bad habit you'd broken. Could that be... self-harm? He was pretty sure he'd seen those marks on your arm, or he saw something, at least, that wasn't caused by walkers.

He started to go over every single place in his mind where you might be hiding, doing more harm to yourself than good by not speaking up. Your bedroom, the attic, the basement, the yard, the garage. The one place the rest of the group wouldn't think to look for you, if they even came looking at all, you thought. Except for Daryl, who had been working in there on his bike all day.

You could even sense it now, the oil, the tools, and the summer heat, even in the nighttime. As you thought of him, the whole place started to feel like him. You weren't even sure if you liked it or not, the familiar fondness you'd developed for him, but despite your loveable manner, you were so determined to be alone. To not appear as some anxious little presence going about the place.

The door swung open and the first thing you noticed was the light that streamed in, illuminating your tear-stained face.

"Y/N! Y/N, are ya' in here?" You buried your face in your hands as you approached the archer, weakly.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on?" he drawled. Daryl placed his torch down and stepped a little closer to you, not in a threatening, fearsome way, but in an intimate way, a way that felt like you could be safe with him.

"Can- Do you think you could shut the door?" you said, sniffling a little as you spoke. He followed your request and returned to where he stood before, deep blue eyes locked on your pitiful face.

10pm It felt like there was nothing to be said, no way to express your feelings in a way that somebody could understand. It would be just perfect if, in this moment, he was able to read your mind somehow. Hesitantly, you rolled up your sleeves as you had done before and looked straight up at him with those wide eyes. It was a sight to behold, that was for sure, and if he could put aside every ounce of sorrow he felt just looking at the scars, he was grateful to be the one who you came to.

"This place, it's like- it's like a well," you were struggling to speak. The tears were flowing now, and you felt embarrassed to have this much emotion on display. "Couple days after we got here, I just started to remember, you know. The stuff you don't wanna remember. Just feel trapped, you know," your voice seemed to trail away as your closed your eyes. Nothing to be done now, you supposed.

When you looked up at Daryl again, you were suddenly overcome by a rush of guilt. "Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Daryl..."

He pulled you into a tight hug at once and whispered into your soft hair that he held so gently. "No, no darlin'..." he spoke. "Ya' don't ever have to say sorry. Not to me." Perhaps if you were thinking straight you would've tried a little harder to appreciate the moment. His distinct scent, the notes of sweet cigarettes, pinewood and thunderstorms. Instead, you cried into his shoulder as his other hand rubbed gentle lines up and down your back.

You pulled away from the embrace, keeping your arms draped around his neck. He was captured by those pretty eyes of yours, though glassed over completely, and held the silent eye contact. He lifted his right hand and softly held your arm, tracing your goosebumps with his calloused fingertips. And you just stared up at him, looking for the reassurance in his eyes that you knew you would always find.

Sensing your pain, Daryl brought your forearm to his lips and pressed sweet kisses on those same self-inflicted scars. You gazed up at him and mustered the best smile you could, as a sign to continue. You slipped off your flannel shirt revealing the little white t-shirt that you wore underneath. Moving further up the length of your arm, he planted soft kisses on your shoulder, and then your neck. The intimacy brought more overstimulated tears to your straining eyes. The only thing you knew how to do in this moment was simply grip him tighter. "Never let me go," you whispered.

Perhaps you didn't need to be alone after all.

#brandy writes #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon fluff #twd angst #the walking dead #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader

[1427]

i love you (always forever) pt.1

Daryl Dixon x sister!OFC

Summary: In the winter of ‘95 Daddy died. Leaving Lady to finish up her senior year in high school, and Daryl to brood over when to sell the house. The summer of ‘96 is the first time Lady feels alive. Daryl wants to give her one last summer before she has to grow up for real.

He gave her anything she asked for that summer.

Setting: Doublewide on some lone property in the middle of the woods, Georgia. Summer 1996

Warnings: INCEST (like it's the whole thing), virgin!oc, drug use (a joint), underage drinking, TENSION, poorly written SMUT, masturbation (f), lite!somno, oral (m receiving), some leering (??); most of the smut will be in part two. 

Word Count: 6.1k

A/n: INCEST I'll say it again. if it's not your thing, or can’t ever be your thing, DON’T READ IT. 

I didn't write it. I simply lived it in my head and documented (I wrote it but it felt like I didn't have a choice). 

Lady, Daryl calls her Lay, Bug

She calls him Bub, Bubba

// part 2 //

MDNI 18+ 

Wind chimes. Soft like the breeze. The heat of the Georgia in June. Daddy died this past winter, and Lady’d never had a summer feel so much like a hug. Finally able to really breathe again. Like a little kid. Magic around every corner. She swore sometimes, when she looked out the window in the dead of night, that she could see the faeries dancing out back in the woods. For a few years they'd gone, but this year they were back again.

Just her and Daryl (and the deer, and the squirrels, and the mice, and obviously the mosquitos, and sometimes the faeries); Like it shoulda always been. Like it always kinda was. After Merle left and all. Got older, moved out. Daryl stayed, though. Past his 18th birthday, and a few more after that. Didn’t wanna leave Lady all by herself with their old man. Couldn’t. 

Now he couldn’t really leave her alone in the house, even though she’d turned 18 last fall. Doesn’t even cross his mind. 

Lady’s finally done with school for good unless she decides she wants to go to college. First one in the whole damn family and no one but Daryl was there to see it.  Daryl quit his job as soon as Daddy died. Even if Daddy didn't have a few dollars in his bank account he didn’t know about, Lady figures he would have anyway. 

Daryl thought about selling the house but… not yet. 

He knew he was putting a pause on his life for this summer with Lady, but his whole life had been on pause til now anyway. Knows that when it’s over, it’s all over. Her whole childhood, their whole upbringing. Their dad dyin’ was just the bow ontop to seal the deal. They’d both think of it as the end. For the rest of her life, Lay’ll know this is when she had to grow up for real. So Daryl wouldn’t sell the house until Lady had her last summer as a kid with nothin’ to worry about. 

The heat was starting to get unbearable. 

“Lay!” Daryl yells, standing above a bed she'd made up in the living room. Dad had always kept the one lone air conditioner in his room, in front of the tv, in front of the recliner, in front of the bed. Lady had the idea to hang sheets on the doors to the living room and make a bed on the floor big enough for both of them to sleep in. She forgot the pillows, though, and now she was nowhere to be found. 

Daryl put down the tools he’d been using to fix the a/c to the window, pushing past the pink floral sheet between the living room and the hall toward the bedrooms, “Lay!” He quickly paces the double wide but she’s no where. 

Left a towel on her bed though, so Daryl’s got a good guess where she went. Swimmin’. 

It’s about a half miles walk, so it’s pretty far to just up and leave like that without saying anything, but Lady did it all the time. Like the creek was her own personal bathtub. Daryl’s not annoyed, not really. But he walks the half mile like he is anyway. Why couldn’t she just let him know? Because then he wouldn’t have to make sure this is where she went. And he wouldn’t have to bring her the towel she forgot. 

Daryl walks down and sure enough Lady’s shoulder deep in the muddy creek water, her clothes and shoes all bundled up on the dirt a few feet in front of him. She’s faced away, and at first doesn’t hear him come up. 

Lady tried to sneak away without being noticed to have a private moment. Like momma taught her. You’re allowed to touch yourself like that, but you can’t do it around other people. Momma said as long as you can be in private, it’s alright. 

Lady didn’t mean to forget her towel, but she almost assumed Daryl would find her anyway. She’d been fast though, always was. Was easy with the hormones. 18 and learning all new kinds of feelings. Merle always called her a late bloomer. Not being interested in boys until recently. She thought about the boys at school, and their plush lips on the soft skin of her shoulder, the protection in their arm wrapped around her waist, the butterfly light kiss of their eyelashes on her stomach. 

It didn’t take much for Lady to feel somethin’. Not in this heat, not with the breeze of freedom prickling every inch of her skin. 

Daryl can’t tell what she’s doing. All he sees is her shoulders barely moving in the lake, her head above the water and facing away from him. “Lay!” 

Daryl’s voice cascades through the air a few seconds after Lady, with a barely there mew, has her orgasm. Lady’s kisses with pleasure are soft, new, wanting. Like a light peck instead of a deep kiss. A soft mist instead of a thunderstorm. Lady only knew sweetness, even in her private moments. 

She’s beaming from ear to ear as she turns around to face him, making sure to keep her body covered by the water, “Bubba, what? I’m just swimmin’.” She already knew he was ready to be annoyed with her by his tone. 

“Yeah, uh-huh,” he nods, and smirks. Despite being annoyed he’s casual, “Thinkin’ maybe ya forgot som’n?” He throws the towel down ontop of her clothes and goes to stand behind a tree while she gets out of the water. 

Lady was always doing this. And Daryl was always following her with whatever thing she’d forgotten, or didn’t know she was gonna need. Daryl was always there. 

Full name Lady-Rae Cheryl Dixon. See momma wanted the name to rhyme with the boys but always said if she had a girl she was gonna name her Lady. Really liked that movie when she was a kid, didn’t matter it wasn’t a girls name. Didn’t matter to her what anyone thought. She thought it was sweet. And Lady was sweet. Could get away with probably anything if she wanted to, but she never even tried. Besides running around the woods naked, she didn’t find herself in much trouble. Sweet as honey. 

Daryl wasn’t sure how that was gonna work out in the real world. If she would get eaten up, or if she’d outshine everyone around her. He didn’t like to think about it. She didn’t belong out there. Not yet. Right now she’s naked in the woods, covering herself up just to be polite; right where she’s meant to be. Who she’s supposed to be. 

They make the walk back, Lady’s teeth chattering but she never complains. Barefoot like she grew the forest herself. She knew every inch. Daryl shuffled behind her, knowing the trail just as well, but letting her be the force she was. Skipping and stopping and stepping on her favorite parts as she went. He watched. 

Her towel small, and frayed on the ends. See through in spots. He tries to look away. He knows he should. But he can’t manage to stop himself. the way her tiny ass bounced as she walked, it was too lewd for him to avert his eyes. Like maybe if it wasn’t jiggling so much he’d have been able to stare at his feet or off into the woods, or at her bare shoulder or something, anything, else. 

But it was, just… her tight skin moving the fat of her ass back into place over and over, snapping against the sheer fabric of the towel, moving that too. Daryl keeps himself from leaning back to see more, to peak through and see the light between her legs. Wouldn’t do that. He’s not trying to sexualize her. What her ass is doing is right there in front of him? He tells himself it’s not his fault he’s looking. He’s seen her naked anyway, it’s not even a big deal. 

Getting caught up in shit that doesn’t matter, that’s what Daryl was good at. Getting stuck up in his own head and hung up on looking just barely a little too long at his sister. Merle would say it was no big deal, Daryl just needed to relax. He was making it weird by thinkin’ about it. 

He manages to look away, and to forget all about it.

💕 

Lady always assumes Daryls looking. Why wouldn't he look? Didn't mean nothin’. Boys always looked, wasn't a big deal unless they made it one. Unless someone made private thoughts public, with a purpose. Who cares who's lookin’? Lady doesn't. Never did. Why would she? How could she?

With Daryl for a brother, Lady never even got the chance to know what a bad touch might be. Never even heard of it. Maybe that's why she was such a late bloomer. Never even knew what she had down there until last summer when she met a boy who had a truck and talked like her brothers and he touched her through her pants and she ignited. 

Never saw the guy again. 

Never wanted to. Never needed to. She was alive and on fire and everything around her burned brighter for it. 

She was finding it hard to get comfortable in the bed she’d made. Still too hot even with the air conditioner on full blast. Daryl was about 3 feet away, a whole heap of comforter between them. “Get up” Lady’s voice a playful smirk. 

Daryl had been trying to fall asleep but got stuck staring at the ceiling fan. Trying to watch a single blade in its rotation. He stands up like she’d asked and watches as Lady lays the comforter out on top of the rest of the blankets she’d piled up, “if we’re not gonna use it.” She explains. 

Lady’s still got her light blue baby blanket that goes almost everywhere with her. Just as tattered and falling apart as the towel. Daryl never sleeps with a blanket anyway. Usually just passes out in his clothes, on his bed. Now he’d do the same thing here, in the living room. Hum of the a/c, chatter of the TV, the heat from Lady’s body - Daryl didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep anyway. 

Well maybe. He did have a joint stashed in with his cigarettes that he’d been saving for sometime this week. So when lady gets up to grab herself an ice cream cone from the fridge, Daryl yells, “Lay, grab ma pack’a smokes.” 

Lady’s halfway to the living room but she turns back and grabs them from the kitchen counter for him. “You’re really gonna smoke in the fort?” 

“Fort, huh?” He grunts then smiles at her as she tosses the pack at him. 

“Yeah?” She looks around, elbowing the sheet hung behind her, “What else would you call it?” 

“Th’ livin’ room.” He’s not looking at her when he answers. Eyes and fingers fixed on the pack, fidgeting with the hinged top for a bit before pulling the joint out and putting it in his mouth. 

Lady stops complaining when she sees it’s not a cigarette, and takes her seat back down on the pallet. Laying on her stomach, up on her elbows, facing Daryl. Her ice cream cone had already started melting, her tongue now on a race with the liquid dripping down her hand. 

Daryl just watches her struggle, until she finally gets a hold on it. “Y’good, there, Bug?” 

“Shut up.” And she shoves him a little. She’s got strawberry icecream all over her cheeks and chin and Daryl wishes he took pictures because at this moment he needed one. He needed her to remember forever who she is right now. 

“Y’wanna hit?” He asks her like he asks her every time he smokes a joint in front of her. Which is often. And every time she says no, because it’s always no. Never wanted to, never really saw the point. Things were beautiful enough. And it reminded her of Merle, and the bad things he got up to. 

Her mind slowly has been changing about it, with Merle gone for so long now. And Daryl being so chill about it when he was about it. A lot of the kids in high school had been doing worse and Lady found herself wanting to say yes when Daryl asked her. 

But when she does, Daryl doesn’t believe her, “No fuckin’ way, Bug. Yer buggin’.” 

“Bubba, no I’m not. I been thinkin’ about it.” 

“Oh, ya have? What’chya been thinkin’ ‘bout it?” 

“Just that I kinda wanna try.” She sways on her elbows, licking at her ice cream, “I’m gonna eventually, right? Why not now?” 

She’s trying to keep herself calm, but she was more relaxed than she’d usually be when she thought about sayin’ yes. Maybe that’s why she’d finally said it. She was finally able to. Lady thinks that means she must be ready, if she’s not afraid to say she wants to try it. 

She remembers this moment for the rest of her life. 

Makes her feel brave, like she’ll always know if she’s ready for some new scary experience or not. If she can ask, she’s ready. 

He thinks about it for a second, but he doesn’t see where she’s wrong. She probably was gonna try it eventually, why not now? She was safe here, he knew it. She knew it. So he says, “Alrigh’, fine. But yer prolly gon’ jus’ get tired,” and passes the joint to her. Thinking she'd take a tiny hit, probably not even inhale, and wimp out.

Lady takes it delicately in her fingertips and brings it to her lips. She’d tried cigarettes before (and didn’t like them), so the motion wasn’t completely foreign. But everything about it felt new and different. It burned. She almost didn’t feel it until she exhaled. A cloud of smoke billowing out and surrounding the both of them. 

Daryl laughs and mutters, “Shit, Bug,” while Lady’s face falls. That was way more than she thought was supposed to come out. Way more than her little lungs were expecting or could take. Her hand shoots out to Daryl for him to take her half eaten ice cream cone as she turns into a rabid dog. 

A wild beast on all fours hacking up half her lung and Daryl’s laughing so hard he’s crying, taking the ice cream and the joint back from her as she seizes. 

She’ll be okay. He knows she will. And she’ll sleep amazing and she’ll be safe like she always is. Somethin’ in the air felt different there now. With everyone else gone. Like nothing could touch them. 

So even though Lady’s about to be as high as a girl could ever be, neither of them are worried it won’t be a good time. 

Just them in their fort. Way too old to be playing little kid games and way too young to be playing house. 

💕

Lady’s vision was fuzzy. Glittering and dancing and hazy, rainbow bursts of fizzy glowing sparkles. 

Lady was secretly afraid she was on fire. She stared at the TV but wondered to herself if it was possible that her lungs were embers that were slowly consuming her chest cavity. She could breathe now, it had been nearly an hour since she hit that joint, but she was sure that she was literally burning alive from the inside out. 

“Dar, do you think you can be burning inside your lungs? Like on fire? Is that how people spontaneously combust?” 

Daryl’s eyebrows shoot up, she’d been quiet for a while and he had been pretty sure that she’d fallen asleep. He had to think about her question. If he wasn’t also stoned he probably would have been able to tell her the answer was obviously no. Instead he says, “Don’t think so.” Which doesn’t really make her feel better. “I ain’t ever hearda it.” That does. Daryl’s hearda everything. 

Their voices are soft, the tv’s the only light in the room. Daryl looks over at Lady. Her bare legs disappearing under an old pair of pajama shorts, she’s definitely not on fire. Not the way she means. 

“Think yer good, Bug.” He reassured her before asking, “Need som’thin’?” 

Lady, sweet as ever, asks, “Tuck me in?” 

Daryl rolls his eyes but sits up anyway. Crawling the two steps toward her. He takes what he can of the stretchy old fabric and wraps it around her body. It’s not big enough, it was never gonna be. Daryl cracks a smile, Lady’s been laughing at his attempt. He pushes his fingers with the fabric around her, she’s laying straight as an arrow, blanket stretched to its limit tight against her body. 

Daryl isn’t paying attention to his fingers as they tuck the fabric under her thighs, or how tight it’s pulling against Lady’s breasts. Lady does. She took one look at him after she hit that joint and she hasn’t been able to sit right since. 

It’s the air, it’s the heat. It’s the sun, maybe something in the water at the creek? Its the pot. It’s gotta be the pot. It’s somethin’ that Lady doesn’t understand. That sometimes just being in proximity is enough. 

She felt brave. She wanted to skirt that line. The line itself moving, and blurry, and hard to make-out. She wanted to be touched. And she wanted Daryl to touch her. Not too much, just a little. Just enough to make her heart race. Just enough to kiss her sleep with something that felt like magic. 

Her pulse is pounding in her ears and down her throat as she looks at him up above her. She feels her blood burn in her palms, slowly falling away from her sides as the tight fabric comes loose from around her. 

Daryl’s lost in the same moment, just caught staring down at her, in a haze himself. Stuck in his head, romanticizing every moment of Lady’s last summer.  

“Kiss goodnight?” 

The words come from between them. Lady’s voice had spoken them but she’s certain it didn’t come from her mouth. 

Doesn’t matter. They’re in the air and Lady and Daryl both pretend that she doesn’t mean it in any way other than what a sister might say to a brother. 

Daryl leans down and just barely brushes his lips over hers. Soft and sweet, like he was leaning down and smelling a flower. It’s so brief, and it’s so feather light it almost wasn’t there. Lady and Daryl both pretend it wasn’t. 

She closes her eyes and snuggles into her blanket, all bunched up in her arms. And Daryl moves back to his spot, trying not to think about what just happened. How it’s all different now. In two seconds everything was different. 

She initiated something new and Daryl already knew he was gonna do what he always did with Lady. Whatever she wanted. 

💕

The sun is just barely peaking through the windows when Lady opens her eyes. The tv still playing, she sits up and leans herself forward to turn it off. Turning around to observe Daryl. But she wasn’t expecting… this. 

He must have gotten up in the middle of the night and ripped his clothes off because he’s just laying there in his boxers and his wife beater. Head leaning back off the pillow, arms laying on either side of his body. The part that catches Lady completely off guard was between his legs. Hard and trying to push its way out of his boxers. Lady can see a hint of pink between the fabric. The hole in the front tenting out around his bulge. 

Lady tries not to look. Knows she shouldn’t. But it’s too lewd to look anywhere else. He moves briefly in his sleep, which only makes their situation worse. His erect member pushing its way completely out of the hole. Lady gawks, feeling something akin to a squeel in her throat. She’d never seen something so… she needed to touch it. 

She shuffles closer to him, her knees padding on the layers of blankets underneath them. Her small hand moving out in front of her, she can’t look away. 

Her fingertips meet the skin of his bare cock with something Lady is sure is electricity. It’s warmer than she’d imagined, and as she moves, her nails grazing on the skin as she lightly traces up and down, she realizes that his skin here is softer than she’d imagined too. 

After a while, she can’t help herself, and wraps her fingers around him. Slowly working her hand up and down, her fingers just barely putting any pressure against him. She wants to squeeze it, to feel how hard it really is, she wants to roll it between both her hands and put it in her mouth and she wants to get to know it better than she knows any part of herself - but she doesn’t wanna wake Daryl up. 

It wasn’t even her fingers that woke Daryl up. It was the pressure. Below his stomach, twisting deep inside and throbbing.

He keeps his eyes closed, tries to keep his breathing steady. Tries to get himself to speak up, say something, tell her to stop. At least let her know you're awake. But he can't move. 

With his eyes closed he can feel every light touch of Lady’s hand. The way she pushes her palm down when she gets to the base and pulls it off as she gets to the tip, the way she's moving in soft semi-circles, but not while she's going up and down. She's exploring. 

Daryl didn't want to stop her. 

He's so hard it hurts. He almost winces when she grips him tighter. She was only moving herself in a different position, Daryl realizes, because he feels her other hand on his cock now too. 

Lady holds him in one hand, bringing the other up she grazes her index and middle finger over the tip of his length. Gliding his pre-cum all over his head. Trying to see how far it would go, she's surprised it's as slick as it is. She wants to taste it. 

Daryl feels her fingers leave him, and hears the slick pop of her tongue as she moves her fingers between her lips. He has to stop himself from rutting his hips up into her hand, stop himself from pushing her head down onto him to feel her wet mouth. 

He doesn't have to make her do anything, though.

Daryl feels a soft veil of hair tickle his skin above the waistband of his boxers, and he realizes she's about to put her mouth on him. Her pretty pink lips were about to wrap around his cock head. Her tongue, that he'd watched lick up melting icecream only a few hours ago, was gonna be flat against the underneath of his dick. Lady. With all the sweetness inside of her, was about to suck him off. 

Lady can't help herself, doesn't want to. Never learned how. She’s not quite sure how to start what she wants to do but decided to put her lips together and kiss right underneath the tip. She doesn't pull away. Parting her lips and flicking her tongue out from between her teeth to taste more of whatever was coming out of him. 

She feels it twitch under her tongue, so she licks him again. Longer, this time, with more certainty. Moving her fingers out of the way, she licks him once all the way from the bottom to the top. 

Daryl didn't think about what was gonna happen when he came. What he should do. It happens so fast that he doesn't have time to warn her. The first shot goes right on her face. 

Daryl sits up in time for the second and third to be lost somewhere on the blankets or his boxers. 

“Shit, Lady. M’so. M’fuckin’ sorry.” 

“It's my fault.” She explains in a flat tone. She sits still while Daryl uses his shirt he was wearing last night to wipe off her face. He’s a mess. Red-eared and scared as a dog but Lady's smiling bigger than she has in her whole life. 

She ignores his apology, his frantic attitude. She was serene. Like she always was. “When did you wake up?” 

“I’unno.” Right at the beginning, really, but he can’t tell her that. Can’t tell himself that. 

She ignores him, she didn't really care. “So that’s what happens then? When a guy…” she mouthes the word ‘comes’ in an exaggerated way, looking in Daryl’s eyes the whole time. 

He lays back into the pillow, grabbing another one to pull over his face. He can’t believe she just asked him that. She can’t believe this just happened at she was being so casual about it.

Lady pulls the pillow out of his hands just as fast. “No, come on. Ya can’t just not tell me. Not now.” 

Daryl puts his arm over his face, only his mouth and his nose peeking out behind the crook of his elbow. She had a point, “Whad’ya wanna know?” 

“Everything. All of it.” 

“Whad’ya wanna know righ’now.” 

Lady tells herself that if she’s ready to know, she’ll be able to ask. “When I have an orgasm nothing comes out. But when guys do it, that’s what happens?” 

She bites on her lip and looks down at him, his eyes and most of his face still hidden behind his arm, laying back on the bed. He’d stay like this and answer her questions. Wouldn’t be able to do it if he was looking at her, “uh-huh”. It's more of a grunt than a word.  

Lady tries to figure out which question to ask next. She knows a lot of stuff. Boys like it when girls suck on it. Boys like it when girls let them put it inside them. Lady isn’t sure exactly how that works, but she knows what she has. And what they have, and she doesn’t need to ask where it would go. 

“Did you like it?” 

A long pause. A half sigh, a grunted response, “uh-huh.” 

“Do you want me to do it again? Can I.. can I do it again?”

“Na’righ’ now.” 

Those words hang there even after Lady gets up and Daryl gets up and they both go about their day. This promise of ‘maybe later’. Daryl has errands to run in town and Lady says she’s got laundry to do, but hes pretty sure she just likes staying at the house. 

“Need somethin’, Lay? Goin’ ta town!” He shouts inside the house from out of it, he’d been outside most of the day, mowin’ the lawn, finally cleaning up the old trampoline. Trying to tell himself that even if he'd tried to stop her, she wouldn't have let him. 

Lady appears in the doorway in a breath, “Where ya goin’ in town?” 

“Store.” He leans against the wood frame lining the area around the steps and lights a smoke. 

Lady leans back, swaying her body with both hands on either side of the door by the handles, “Hmmm, maybe we could get stuff for grillin’. And we’re out of ice cream.” 

Daryl nods, taking a drag, his eyes squinting against the sun, “Somethin’ else?” 

“More pot?” She squints back at him. 

He breathes out an almost laugh against the cigarette between his lips, “Yeah, alrigh’. Tha’s it?”

“Wine coolers?” 

Daryl actually laughs at that one, “What’re ya tryna prove, Bug?”

She stops swinging on the door, “Not provin’ nothin’. Daddy's dead. Let's live a little.” 

💕

So Daryl gets some girly somethin’ - what he assumes are wine coolers. They're in the refrigerated case at the distributor, and there's strawberries and an island on the cardboard carrier. And the bottle’s shaped stupid. Daryl’s sure he's gotten the right thing, or at least something she'd probably like. 

Daryl doesn't feel bad indulging her. Never did, and anyway he's surprised it's taken her this long to ask. As far as growin’ up in the sticks, Lady was a good girl. And so she wanted to smoke some pot and drink some wine coolers with her brother? 

So what she had all the curious burning of an explorer on their first expedition with every new thing that she tried, and so what if that new thing was Daryl's body and how it reacted to hers? 

Daryl doesn't feel bad indulging her. He reasons with himself his whole drive that it can't be that bad. Not if Lady wanted it. Lady never wanted anything bad ever. She never gossiped, or tattled, or cheated at board games. Lady never even tried to sneak sweets. She told Daryl once it was cuz she didn't want anyone else to get in trouble if someone noticed it was missin’. Nah, Daryl figures if Lady wants it, if she asks for it, it can't be somethin’ ugly. 

💕

Daryl's on his third beer before he's able to say it, “Lay. Wha’ we did this mornin’ -“ he’s tried to figure out how he feels about it, he’s still not sure he’s making the right choice, but he needs to decide something before she decides for them. “Ya didn’t do nothin’ wrong but - can’t go tellin’ people we did that.” 

Lady laughs, she’s on her second wine cooler of her whole life, and all of a sudden Daryl thinks she’s new to the planet earth. She was backwoods but she wasn’t that backwoods. She was, after all, a high school graduate. “You mean I can't tell Auntie Norma I made you…” She mouthes the word ‘come’ again in the same exaggerated way she had earlier before losing herself in a fit of giggles. 

Lady and Daryl had folded up their temporary bed and shoved it in the corner. She was currently leaned back on the far edge of the coach, head thrown in laughter. Her shoulders shaking, her hands gripping the bottle between her thighs. 

Daryl bites at his thumb, sitting in the armchair across the room from her, he was trying to be serious for a damn second and she was laughing at him. “Jus’ don’ really know whatya think yer doin’. If yer in your right mind ‘n all. An’ y’know we ain't supposed ta.”

He just needed to hear her say it, if she could say it - if she could ask for it, it couldn’t be bad. 

“Wasn't thinkin’, Dar. Was just doin’.” She doesn’t really have an answer for him. She's in her right mind, she knows people aren't supposed to do that kind of stuff with their family. But nothin’ ever felt wrong between her and Daryl.

Daryl downs the rest of the beer he's holding in one gulp. He puts his finger in the hole at the top and spins it absentmindedly on his knee, “Jus’ need ya t’know what yer doin’.. it ain't somethin’ people usually do, Bug.” 

Lady’s starting to get frustrated. She knew what he was getting at, but why'd he have to say it? “I know I'm not supposed to, Dar. It's like those times you and Merle let me watch scary movies when I was little and I had to tell Momma and Daddy we were watching lions on PBS instead.” 

Daryl reaches down and grabs another beer from the case next to the armchair. He just shakes his head. She's gotta know it ain't that simple. 

“Bubba, look at me.” 

Daryl looks over, curious what she needed the eye contact for, “W’sup, Lay?”

“It’s just you and me out here and as far as I can tell we didn’t hurt anyone.“ She finishes the rest of her drink in one gulp just like he had, “The woods are good at keepin’ secrets, Bub. You know that.” And she smiles, looking down before looking directly at him.

If they didn't know before they both knew now. It wasn't just going to be that one thing that happened between them. The stagnant ‘maybe later' coming back and sitting on their shoulders, in their laps, in every empty space of the room. 

‘Maybe’ turns to definitely. To obviously.

Daryl grunts, trying not to let a smile on the corners of his lips. He opens the bottle in his hand and takes a sip before bringing it back down to look at it. Pondering her words like they're written on the label. All he thought he'd needed to hear was that she knew it had to be a secret. That she knew she was committing a crime against god here with him. But now what?  

Lady almost can't take it, the cicadas buzzing from outside are so loud it's infesting her brain. She’d been sitting there for an hour trying to figure out how to ask him if she could touch him again. And now that he's brought it up, she can't think of anything else but the way he tasted, the way his thing pulsated and twitched underneath of her tongue. She wants to make him cum again. 

Daryl's drinking his beer, lost in thought, while Lady decides she should probably have another one too. She gets up and walks past him to the kitchen. 

“Where ya goin’?” He half shouts behind him, a little worried he'd hurt her feelings. Read something wrong. Said something wrong. 

Lady smiles to herself, Daryl worried all the time about everything and it always ended up being for nothing. “Just gettin’ another one. That okay with you, pop?” She teases. 

She reappears from behind the sheet holding another wine cooler. As she takes her seat back on the couch Daryl leans forward, elbows on his thighs, taking another sip of his drink, “Might wanna slow down on those, Bug.” He's smiling into the bottle. 

Lady sticks her tongue out at him, her eyebrows drawn down in mock anger, “What, afraid I'm gonna blow chunks instead of blow you?” She's been on the edge of it for so long it spills out of her mouth.

Daryl has no idea what the fuck to say to that but he laughs out loud. He genuinely guffaws. If it wasn't his little sister he'd be frozen in his fuckin’ chair. Churning a little at this realization - Cuz when she said it he wasn't uncomfortable. Wasn't afraid, or worried that he was gonna have to do something he might mess up. 

“Nah.” He answers her before his mind takes off on a tangent about how it's his sister and the proposition of her sucking his cock should make him uncomfortable. But it didn't. 

Cuz if she wants it, it can't be wrong. 

“Just keep drinkin’, Lay. If ya blow chunks yer the one stuck cleanin’ it up though.” 

“Let's smoke that pot.” 

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon. Why not, bub?”

“Cross-faded.”

“What's that?” 

“Pots different after y’drink. Jus’.. trus’me on this one.” He sips his beer, “‘nless yer really set on blowin’ chunks. Tha’s definitely a sure fire way.” 

Lady shakes her head, taking her drink from between her thighs again and sipping it before putting it back. 

She's gotta figure out how to ask soon or she was gonna drink herself to sleep. 

Daryl can see her workin’ something out in her head, “S’goin’ on, Lay?.” 

She’s staring at a spot on the ground and she doesn’t look up, “Thinkin’.” 

“‘bout wha’?”

“Your cock in my mouth.” 

Daryl chokes on the spit he was swallowing, “Christ.” He says as he coughs. He doesn't think he's ever heard her say that word. “Yer really serious, huh?” He asks again, this time because he truly can’t believe it. Why would she, the sweetest piece of Georgia pie, wanna put her pretty mouth on him? Even if he was her brother. Especially because he was her brother. 

She smiles and looks down at her fingers around the top of her bottle. Blushing beet red and nodding her head so aggressively her hair moves. 

He wants to let her but somethin’ about it doesn't feel right. Not because of who she was or who he was, or cuz it was wrong. “Shouldn't jus’ blow guys, Lay.” 

“Whaddya mean?” She picks at the label on her drink, not looking up at him. Nervous and excited and hanging on his every word. 

“People, uh - usually… do other stuff first.” He explains, not wanting to make her feel bad for what she'd already done, but wanting her to understand she can't just do that to other guys. 

Lady laughs, a sigh of relief escaping her as she brings the brim up to take another swig. There's a million things sitting between her teeth and her lips just waiting to be said. Instead, she just asks, “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

💕

pt. 2

A/n: This is coming out a whole lot sweeter than I thought it was going to be and I know in the end it's going to break my little heart. 

Anyway sorry, most of the smut will be in part 2 where I imagine going into detail about their first time (for a few different things) as well as how they are once they get more comfortable as they get deeper into the summer. 

Broken up into two parts because I can't fathom proofreading these 6,000 words one more time. 

(Next part will be up as fast as I can write it.)

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #Spotify

[twdsunshine]

The World At Our Feet: Epilogue

Summary:  It's been eighteen months since Alexa Rushmore broke the man she loved out of prison.  She and Daryl now live in fear, unable to let their guard down in case their true identities should be revealed.  When Daryl's brother tracks them down, life becomes even more difficult.  Will Merle Dixon prove to be their downfall?  The third and final instalment of the Conviction trilogy that began with 'In Dark Corners.'

Pairing:  Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings:  Mentions of the death penalty

Word Count:  2,375

Check out my bio for a link to my Masterlist!

Author’s Note:  It’s finally finished!  The journey that began at Carrington Prison in In Dark Corners back in 2019 has come to an end.  I can’t quite believe it.  If you’ve read the first two series of this saga recently, you might notice that I’ve stolen bits and pieces from them (particularly the first part of IDC) to really give a feel that we’ve come full circle, but that’s just me being emotional and pretending to be a proper writer who uses fancy devices like that.  I have put Alexa and Daryl through hell as they’ve journeyed from Carrington to Mexico, and I am now finally going to leave them in peace.  I really hope you enjoy the ending.  Thank you for sticking with me.  For the last time, here we go...

*****

Alexa was tired.  It had been a long day, and her eyes had that grainy feeling that could only be attributed to a lack of sleep.  It was warm in her office, which did nothing to relieve her lethargy, the blinds raised to allow the golden sunlight to filter inside and light the room, and she stretched, feeling the muscles in her back complain after sitting in her chair for most of the afternoon.  Pale fingers ran through her hair, working the knots free from her ponytail before twisting it up into a messy bun and securing it with another band, allowing the breeze from the air conditioning unit in the corner to cool her neck as it churned out cold air, humming quietly.  She had less than an hour left to go before she could leave behind the working week and head home, and the second-hand of the clock seemed to be rotating impossibly slowly, taunting her with the promise of freedom.

When she’d decided, at the age of thirteen, that her future was in medicine, she could honestly say that she’d pictured herself in a place just like this.  The small-town medical practice was a red brick building, set just off the main street, instantly welcoming and a million miles away from the concrete hell of Carrington.  The patients were mainly locals, older people with their various health complaints, and young mothers dragging in their children.  It wasn’t as exhilarating as patching up the knife wounds and injuries of the prison inmates, but she genuinely enjoyed the work and had settled in quickly since taking up the position six months ago.  She was a creature of routine, of habit, and she enjoyed having her weekends free to spend with Daryl and the familiar faces of the other doctors and nursing staff.  Plus, it was only a ten minute stroll from home, so, really, it suited her down to the ground.

Speaking of…  Her eyes flicked to the clock once more, and she sighed when she realised she still had over half an hour to go.  She’d completed her paperwork on the patients she’d seen since she’d started work at nine that morning, so there was little more for Alexa to do, and she stifled a yawn as she sat back in her chair and toed off her heels, drumming her fingers on her desk.  She could, she supposed, slot the few files that were still lying on top of her printer, waiting to be put away, into the filing cabinet.  That might pass a couple of minutes, at least.

It was while her back was turned to the door as she did exactly that that she heard a soft knock, and she turned towards it with a grin, already anticipating who would be on the other side.

“Come in.”

She was met by the gentle face of Hershel Greene, smile half-hidden by his bushy white beard, eyes sparkling as he stepped inside.  “Doctor Dixon.  Hope you don’t mind.  I thought I’d drop in and check on you.”

“Not at all.”  Alexa motioned for the older man to take a seat, propping herself on the edge of her desk, her hand coming to rest instinctively on the curve of her stomach.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Good,” she assured him, and it was true.  With the stresses and strains of the past couple of years behind them, she finally felt like herself again, gradually growing out the dark colour that disguised her coppery waves, the tension that had forever seemed to hold her rigid, jarring her joints and tightening her muscles, ebbing away, until she found that she was filled with a sense of hopeless optimism that she’d thought had disappeared with her youth.  “Really good, actually.”

“Morning sickness?”

“Finally seems to have eased off, thankfully.”

“I’m glad.  You’re well into the second trimester now, so I was sure you wouldn’t be suffering with it for too much longer.”

“It was worth it,” Alexa admitted, despite knowing how many days she’d showed up to work over the past few months looking drawn, her skin clammy, having to avoid the break room in case anybody should have brought in anything remotely odorous for their lunch.  Still, she’d been waiting for this for such a long time now that it was a small price to pay, and she’d never complained, even when she’d been feeling particularly unwell.  “Eighteen weeks and counting.  I have a scan booked for Tuesday.”

“How exciting!  Are you planning to find out the sex?”  She nodded, and he leaned forward to take her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of her knuckles.  “I’m very happy for you both.”

Doctor Greene owned the practice and hadn’t hesitated to offer Alexa a job, despite her record.  He’d made a point to reach out to her when she’d first started, putting her instantly at ease with his innate kindness and soft-spoken voice, and, as time went on, he’d become the closest thing to family she had, other than Daryl.  He’d heard their story - of course, everyone had - and he’d seemed to understand that she was in a strange period of adjustment, that she was desperately trying to get her life back on track, even arranging with the local pastor for Alexa and Daryl to be married in a tiny private ceremony, with only Hershel and one of Daryl’s co-workers at the auto-shop as witnesses, which suited them just fine - they’d been living as husband and wife for the past couple of years anyway, so it seemed pointless to make a fuss.  He had two daughters, one of whom was only a little younger than Alexa, but they’d both moved away, and so, it seemed, he had affection to spare, and she considered herself lucky to be the main recipient.  “What about you?  Only six weeks to go until you retire!  How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just looking forward to being able to slow down,” he told her, though she knew he would miss his patients and working in the practice that he’d helped to build every day.  He wasn’t selling up, but he was stepping away from taking patients, and the community would miss him just as much, she was sure.  “The farm could use my attention, so I’ll have plenty to keep me busy.  And, of course, I’ll be on hand should you need anyone to watch the little one when you go back to work.”

Alexa felt a glow of warmth in her chest at the generous offer, and she gave the other doctor’s fingers a tight squeeze.  “You know we don’t expect that.”

“And I know you’ll want to make your own arrangements.  But things come up, and you’ll need someone you can count on.  I just want you to know that I’m here.”

Maybe it was the hormones, or perhaps it was the fatherly nature of the gesture, but tears were pooling in Alexa’s eyes, threatening to spill over and trickle down her cheeks, and she hurriedly brushed them away, casting around for a change of subject and catching sight of the clock once again.  “Oh, hey, look: home time!”

Hershel huffed a laugh and levered himself to his feet, planting his hands on his hips as he stretched out his back.  “I’ll leave you to get going then, Lexi.  Have a good evening.”

“And you.”

Gathering her belongings and stuffing them into her bag, she hitched it up on her shoulder, pausing only to shut down her computer and slide her feet back into her shoes before making a hasty exit.  The warmth of the day was still lingering, the sky a vast cloudless blue, and she wanted to make the most of the last hours of daylight before the evening crept in.  She called goodbye to the girls on reception as she stepped outside, ready for the walk home, only to find her attention captured by a broad figure leaning up against the wall of the parking lot.  

Daryl Dixon still had the ability to make her knees go weak, pure want and need flooding through her as she drank him in: his dark waves, shorter now, though no less unruly; the crooked smile that was still reserved only for her; the jut of his collarbone above the neckline of his tank top, and the way his overalls emphasised how the width of his strong shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist.  She could feel her cheeks flushing as she made her way over to him, and she felt the rumble of his chuckle as he reeled her in and cradled her against his chest.  “I wasn’t expecting you to meet me.”

“Quiet day.  Jim said we could knock off early.”

“You didn’t wanna go grab a beer with Glenn and Aaron?”  She knew that was the standard practice when they had an early finish, especially on a Friday, but Daryl just shook his head, pulling back so that she could push herself up on tiptoes and steal a kiss.

“Nah.  Thought about it, but I missed ya.  Wanted to see how you an’ Li’l Asskicker were doin’.”

“We are doing just fine.”

He smiled, ducking his head as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, and she laced their fingers together as they turned and started towards home, a small one-storey house on the edge of town.  It wasn’t much, but Daryl had fixed it up, just as he had their tiny casita, and it had a wraparound porch that they spent most mornings and evenings on, sipping coffee or beer and looking out over the neighbourhood.  “Heard from Merle today.”

Alexa cast a glance at her husband, trying to read the look on his face, only to find it schooled into an expression of nonchalance.  “Oh, really?  How is he?”

“Gettin’ by.  Lawyer’s still tryin’ to get the death penalty off the table.  S’draggin’ on.”

“Even so, he’ll still be looking at life, right?”

“Mmhmm.”  Daryl sighed, rubbing his free hand over the back of his neck, and Alexa leaned into him, trying to lend him some support.  “Honestly, think he’s only fightin’ it till the baby comes.  Wants to meet his li’l niece or nephew ‘fore…”

“We’ll visit as soon as we can,” Alexa assured him.  A small part of her hated the idea of taking a newborn into a prison, remembering the type of men she’d had to deal with at Carrington, some of whom still haunted her nightmares on occasion.  But she also knew how much Merle had given up for them, how much it had cost him to do the right thing, and she couldn’t deny him the chance to see the result of his sacrifice.

Reaching their yard, Alexa waited for Daryl to unlatch the gate before stepping through and meandering up the path, pausing to admire the flowers that bloomed in the beds that he’d planted for her when they first moved in.  Moving ahead, her husband jogged up the porch steps and unlocked the door, flinging it open to release a speeding blur of black fur.

“Perro!” he shouted, his voice gruff, though softened by affection, as the Calupoh barrelled towards Alexa, narrowly missing colliding with her before circling back and jumping up to rest his paws against the swell of her belly.  

“He’s okay.  He’s just been shut in for too long today.”

“Needs to be more careful round ya,” Daryl grumbled, but he still dropped to his knees, calling the dog to him so he could stroke along his sides and scratch at his belly, finding himself rewarded by a slick tongue licking up the length of his face.  “Disgustin’ hound.”

Alexa was laughing as she lowered herself to the ground at Daryl’s side, slumping against him as she finally gave in to the ache in her lower back that was plaguing her through the second trimester.  As if he could feel her pain, his hand came up to rub soothing circles over the base of her spine, and she hummed in contentment, tipping her head back to let the rays of evening sunshine dance over her face.  The yard wasn’t big, but she could picture all too easily where she might put a paddling pool through the hottest days of the summer, could hear the giggles and splashes of children as they played, could smell meat grilling as Daryl tended the barbecue, his arms painted a deep golden-brown by the sun.  She could feel the grass between her toes as she picked her way over to him, barefoot and glowing, her auburn locks back to their natural glory and burning like fire in the bright light of the afternoon, could imagine the kiss he’d brush against her lips as the kids shouted their disgust at seeing their parents indulging in a little physical affection.  The scene played out in her mind as if she was seeing it on a cinema screen, and she knew her mouth was curved in a dreamy smile as Daryl glanced down at her where she rested against him.

“Y’alright?”

She nodded, craning her neck to press a soft kiss to the line of his jaw, wrinkling her nose when his scruff tickled her skin.  “Mmhmm.  Just trying to imagine what our life’s gonna look like ten years from now.”

He huffed a laugh, his breath ruffling her hair.  “Ain’t never been able to do that before, I’ll bet.”

“No,” she admitted, “but I feel like I can see it now.”

“And?”

“And it’s gonna be perfect,” she told him with absolute certainty.  

“M’finally gonna be able to give ya the life y’always wanted.”

“It’s only just beginning really, isn’t it?”  Daryl nodded, and Perro let out a soft groan as if he, too, was agreeing.  Alexa rewarded him with a scratch behind the ears, the one thing they’d brought back with them from their time in hiding, the first addition to the family that she was determined to grow with the man at her side.  “I love you so much, Daryl Dixon.”

“Mmm.”  He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer so that she almost wasn’t sure where she ended and he began.  “Love ya right back.”

*****

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[justjessame]

Silence: Chapter 23

It came like a wrecking ball. I was lucky to be locked in tight at my little cottage, but I could hear it - that rage that seemed to flood the streets, the answering violence ordered from someone I shared blood with, and I felt a gratitude toward whomever had designed my humble abode as I looked outside to the fog created by a gas used to deter dissenters.

The pounding on my door shook the windows and I feared them breaking and releasing more of the gas than simply opening the door a crack to see what the hell was happening might do. The crack was breached, a dark mass shoving inside and then the door slammed shut again, as a voice that I felt confident I was imagining ordered me to move away.

“Get the fuck back,” he growled, shooing me with his hands when I seemed rooted to the spot. “Do you want to inhale that shit?”

Right, gas and I was, fuck. I beat a hasty retreat to the furthest part of the room, tempted to dash into my bedroom and lock that fucking door behind me, just in case.

“Christ, I think they’re trying to fucking kill everyone,” he was muttering, a cough breaking through as he leaned his forehead against the door and took a breath. “Do you have some water or something,” he was weezing enough to make my feet move toward the kitchen.

My tension was growing as I filled a glass with water, tiny feet and hands were pushing at me from within - as if they knew the donor of their baby batter was close at hand. Damn it, I took a breath, hoping to steady myself and keep any nausea at bay.

“Guess you didn’t expect to see me,” fuck, he was behind me. “Or maybe you didn’t want to see me again.” There was a twinge of something in his voice that made me wonder - curiosity be damned, I turned and there he was. Negan.

Holding out the glass, I swallowed down a lump that formed in my throat. His fingers, those long ass fingers of his, couldn’t help touching my hand as he took it. Silence descended as he drank, but his eyes were ever watchful, and they widened slightly as they took in my obvious growth. I prayed he was sipping slowly, but the glass was empty before the prayer was finished.

I couldn’t let him keep talking - he’d never stop. “I’m surprised you’re here.” Obvious, clearly. “I’m glad you’re alive.” Lame. Very lame.

A smirk played on his lips and then I saw a flash of metal as he sat the glass on my table. A ring. A simple band and I stepped back. The smirk left as quickly as it began and his gaze followed mine. “Shit.” Right, guess it’s hard to be heavy handed with a feeling of abandonment when you clearly moved on - quickly and with a definite edge of commitment. “Elara, when I went back and you were -”

My eyes left the band and found his face. Shaking my head, I sighed. “You moved on,” again obvious. “So did I.” My hand found the heavy curve that made reaching into the sink more acrobatic than ever before. “Clearly.”

He was shaking his head like he thought I was so full of shit my eyes should be brown. “The math doesn’t work,” I was planning on asking if he’d become an MD during or after his wedding ceremony, but Negan doesn’t stop once his mouth opens. “You’re bigger than -” and then I knew. I wasn’t the only baby mama he had in the process of adding to his family tree.

“I’m sure I am,” I knew what had happened with Lucille, so I knew that this new version of himself wasn’t a cheater. Which meant his new Mrs. wasn’t likely to be nearly as unwieldy as I was. “Since you have a family to prepare for,” his eyes landed on the part that was currently housed by my sorry ass, but that wasn’t what I meant. “I guess you’ll understand that I moved on too.” Shit, I was moving on with Daryl. Daryl who had tied him up and held him at crossbow point when we first met. He was waiting. On me to tell him all about the wonderful man I was moving on with while I was trying to think of a way to make him less likely to raise hell about my choice. I chose the bandaid rip version. Over and done, hurts less - right?

“Daryl.” He blinked at me and I wondered if he was having more of an adverse reaction to the gas than just weezing. “Daryl.” Shaking his head, I was contemplating asking if he needed to take a seat, but he coughed out a laugh. “Of all the fucking men left in this shitty world, you pick Daryl who might be allergic to fucking water?”

My eyes were narrowing as he spoke, how fucking dare he? “Oh we want to discuss how shitty my taste in men is? How about yours, oh manly man of the huge cock kingdom?” He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before. Good. “The first time I saw you, you were sucking up to a woman who wore people skin,” my glare grew at the mere thought of Alpha. “Dead people skin.” And he’d played hide the salami with her at least once. “You fucking wore it too, like it was a goddamn honor, if I recall.” His own glare was starting to come out and his mouth opened like he was going to argue, but I was on a roll. “You’re so high and fucking mighty, then why the hell can’t you let go of shit?” From glare to huge, those eyes of his were getting a workout. “I mean, we were practically exiled from a group that I didn’t even fucking want to be a part of because you killed people with a fucking bat named after your dead fucking wife who you cheated on while she had cancer!” His mouth was working, but I was nowhere near done. “You have the audacity to say that Daryl might be allergic to water? I can still smell Alpha. Maggie wants your head on a pike ala the Whisperers. Carol used you to do her bidding and then was fine with letting you fend for your fucking self - and me too. But I have shitty taste in men.” I eyed him up and down as my arms crossed over my ample chest. “One man, maybe.”

“You left.” He bit out the words like he could cut me with them. “I went back for you, and Carol comes to that fucking cabin and tells me you just fucking cut and run after I -”

“After you marched off to what I could only imagine was your fucking death march.” I shook my head and almost pitied him. Almost. “Maggie wanted you dead, probably still does, but it never got through that thick fucking skull of yours that I might want you alive. Redemption meant more to you than that.” I was exhausted. “Look, sleep on the sofa or go when the fucking gas clears, but I’m done here.”

“I’m not,” he took a few steps and was blocking my path out. “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. I didn’t know where the fuck to start looking for you. You were gone. Just fucking gone and I was -” huffing out a sigh, he let his fingers trace my face. “I would have looked forever,” I started to pull away, but his hand cupped my chin and wouldn’t let me. “I would have, but then I started to question whether you would want me to. Did you even give a shit after all?” The pain I thought I heard before was apparent now. “Annie,” he said her name like it was a beacon, and I guess she was that for him. “I didn’t look for her, or want her, Elara. Not when I worried about where you were, if you were hurt or worse.” But it happened, that’s what he didn’t have to say. “If I knew -”

“And you do,” I stepped back, far enough that his hand had to drop. “Now you know I’m fine. And I’ll be fine when you and Annie ride off into whatever version of the sunset you choose.”

I left him in my kitchen, alone and went to my bedroom. I closed the door, but I didn’t lock it. I knew I didn’t have to fear Negan. And I knew he wouldn’t breach the doorway. Not now that we both had different paths.

#alternate universe #the walking dead #negan x ofc #unexpected pregnancy #daryl dixon x ofc