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celtic-crossbow · 9 months

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Skin You With My Tongue

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, fingering, oral (fem rec), brief hand job

Summary: What has gotten into Daryl? It doesn’t matter because you like it!

A/N: I haven’t been feeling great but I wanted to finish this before taking a break. Then I’ll work on my last request. Once again, I don’t think it’s great but ah well. I’m trying to just be thankful to be writing again. I hope some enjoyment comes from it!

You had no idea how you’d ended up in your current predicament: flat on your back, naked, with an equally naked Daryl Dixon devouring you like a man starved. You weren’t complaining by any stretch of the imagination. Though he had claimed to have little experience, the man deserved medals for the sounds he was wringing out of you with his tongue.

Anyway, back to the question of how did you end up here?

The day had started like any other. Your group was still new to Alexandria. While most had been given jobs, you and Daryl had not yet been set to work by Deanna. So, Rick had easily agreed to letting you both go hunt. Daryl had refused to give up his crossbow when you had first arrived in the community, but you had to sign out a weapon.

“Bullshit.” Daryl growled from where he leaned against the doorframe of the armory. You couldn’t say that you didn’t agree with him.

Regardless, you played by the rules, got your gun, strapped the weapons to the back, and climbed onto Daryl’s bike. He had decided the two of you could go further out today, not having much luck the past couple of days in the direct vicinity.

Daryl was your closest friend in your tight knit group and had been since you all had been forced to wander around in the cold before the prison. He was difficult to read and his emotional walls were high and thick. Somehow, you had been able to scale those walls, if not shatter them completely. You accepted him without question but you didn’t take any shit from him either. You weren’t afraid to call him out. In fact, the first time he had willingly come to sit next to you by the fire was just after you had asked him if he was “violating the Georgia sodomy law by having his head that far up his own ass.” You’d been close ever since.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his stomach and rested your chin on his shoulder, making kissy noises at him when he glanced back at you.

“Stop.” He grumbled before starting up the motorcycle. You simply gave his midsection a squeeze and could practically feel him roll his eyes as you headed through the gate.

The first part of the day was uneventful. Daryl stashed the bike before you walked and walked, finding nothing to track. About midday, the two of you came across a gorgeous lake. The water was clear and having only crossed two walkers on your trek there, you decided that a swim was an excellent idea after lunch. You didn’t ask Daryl, truly figuring he wouldn’t mind and that, hell, maybe he’d even join you.

You didn’t look at him as you stripped down to your bra and panties, mismatched as they were. If you had, you would have seen him comically fumble and drop the piece of dried meat in his hand.

“The blue hell ya doin’, girl?” He snapped after righting himself.

“Cooling off.” You gave him a smile over your shoulder before mimicking his frown with added exaggeration. “Maybe you should do the same, you old grump.”

He scoffed, keeping his eyes averted. “You’re bein’ careless. Careless gets ya dead.”

“I’m not going in unprotected!” You spun toward him, drawing his gaze toward you before pointing to the small knife tucked securely between your breasts. You couldn’t help but laugh when his face reddened and he looked away so quickly that you could swear you heard his neck crack. “I won’t be long.”

And you weren’t. Barely twenty minutes later, you were sitting down next to him, fully clothed albeit damp, but feeling much better.

“Ready to head out?” You asked cheerfully.

He did not share your enthusiasm, scowling as he stood and secured his crossbow to his back. “Been ready.”

“Well, aren’t you just a bucket of sunshine?” He had already stalked off by the time you gathered up everything. You had to sprint to catch up.

After a couple of hours, Daryl finally caught the trail of a deer and began tracking it. You followed quietly, watching his methods and learning everything you could. You knew how to hunt, thanks to him, but you were always eager to sharpen your skills. When the animal was finally within sight, the archer kneeled after signaling for you to stand still just beside him. He was lining up the shot when something caught his eye to the right of where you stood.

“Get down!” He whispered sharply, grabbing your arm and pulling. The sudden jerk caught you off guard and you were thrown off balance, crashing into him. He fell flat on his back with you on top, your palms on either side of his head with your chest almost directly in his face. With half a dozen walkers shuffling into the area, you couldn’t move lest you be detected.

The deer sensed the danger and ran, the group of undead following mindlessly. As they passed where you and Daryl hid, you instinctively lowered, feeling his breath against your shirt. It took several minutes for the threat to move far enough away that you felt comfortable to lift yourself up and sit back, effectively placing your ass on his stomach.

“Well, that sucks. That was a big doe.” You complained. When he didn’t comment, you looked at him. He was propped up on his elbows, looking anywhere but at you. His face and neck were flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “You okay?” You queried with general concern.

“M’fine. Can ya get offa me?”

“Oh. Right.” You stood quickly, as did he. His back was quickly turned to you.

“We’re done. Let’s go.”

Your head tilted, brow creased in confusion. “We’ve got hours of daylight left. Shouldn’t we—”

“Said we’re done.” He was already walking away, leaving you staring at his back and wondering what you’d done wrong.

The ride back was tense and silent. You even chose to just lightly place your hands below his ribs and keep some space between your bodies instead of how you would usually have a tight hold on him.

When you entered Alexandria, Daryl parked the bike and got off, leaving you there, confused and more than a little upset. He passed Rick by without a word, the former sheriff turning to look at you with an eyebrow cocked. You gave him a shrug.

“I have no idea.” Shaking your head, you grabbed the gun from where it was secured to the back and went to sign it in before returning to the home you shared with Daryl and Carol. He was nowhere to be found on the first floor, leaving you to assume he had retreated to his room in the basement. With a heavy sigh, you went upstairs to shower.

Evening was upon you before you knew it, the sun having only set a few minutes before Carol invited you to walk to the other house for dinner with the group. You weren’t feeling all that hungry so you told her you’d be there in a few minutes. It was a lie. You had no intention of leaving your room.

Turning over onto your side, you closed your eyes. You had just drifted off when there came another knock. “Ugh.” You groaned and threw back the blankets, remaining in just your tank top and underwear since you didn’t plan on leaving with her. “Carol, I really don’t—” Once the door opened, you screeched to a halt, meeting the impossibly blue eyes of your favorite bowman. “Daryl.” You blinked at him blankly.

“Hi.” He nearly whispered. “Can I, uh—?” He gave a vague motion toward the inside of your room.

“Right. Uh, yeah, right, sure.” You stammered while stepping aside. He stepped in and you turned to push the door closed, a gasp leaving your mouth when you felt him press himself against your back. “D-Daryl?”

“First, the lake. Then your tits in my face when the walkers came. An’ now—this?” His finger was tracing the outline of your panties over your hip.

“What? I didn’t—”

He growled, a low sound in his throat, as he spun you around and pressed you back against the door with his body. He grabbed your chin to force your gaze on him.

“Didn’t what? G’on. Tell me.”

“Daryl, I didn’t mean anything by any of that.” You gulped, though you weren’t afraid. Exactly the opposite. Heat and wetness was pooling at your core, your skin feeling electrified where he was touching you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t lie to him. “I really wasn’t trying to fuck with you, I swear.”

There was an instant change in his eyes and it broke your heart. He released you with a muttered “shit,” his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. The dim light of your bedside lamp was enough for you to see his face reddening and the slight tremble to his frame.

“Y/N, I—fuck—m’sorry.” He quickly attempted to sidestep you and reached for the doorknob, but you were faster and blocked his path. His head shot up, eyes wide and panicked. He had absolutely misread the day’s happenings but he wasn’t wrong on one thing.

“I wasn’t intentionally fucking with you.” You repeated, your tongue snaking out to wet your lips before you continued. “But I would have if I had known it’d end with you here like this.” His arm dropped away from the knob and you entered into his space, pressing your chest against him to hover your lips over his. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Daryl Dixon.”

And now you were here.

“Fuuuuck!” You moaned, pressing the back of your head into the pillow before raising it to look down at the man between your thighs. Your fingers twisted and tugged his hair as your hips rolled, grinding your cunt against his tongue. Daryl growled against your clit, the sound vibrating against the swollen nub. His large hands pressed down on your inner thighs, holding you open while also effectively rendering you immobile.

A whine slipped past your lips when his tongue once again pressed tightly against you, sweeping up and down before he closed his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You tried to lift your hips but he pressed down harder, his nails biting into your skin. He removed his mouth from you, dark eyes glaring from just above your mound.

“Be still.”

His gravelly voice was even lower, darkened with lust and demand. You found you couldn’t help but obey. Breathing through your nose, you nodded eagerly. He kept his gaze locked on your face while his right hand lifted from your thigh, fingertips whispering over your flesh to dance down to your core. He ran a single digit through your slick once…twice, never breaking eye contact.

Your hands left his hair and fisted into the sheets of your bed, but otherwise, you remained frozen in place, panting through the pleasure of stretching around his middle finger breaching your opening. He slid in to the first knuckle, then the second, pausing only briefly before pushing in all the way. The sound that left your throat was positively sinful. You dropped your head back to the pillow and focused on not moving.

“Good girl.” He praised you, rewarding you by drawing his digit almost all the way out before sinking back inside, thus beginning a steady rhythm of which he continued. When you remained unmoving, he lowered his head once again to lavish attention onto your clit.

Who was this man? This was a completely new Daryl. In control, demanding, vocal, and positively panty-dropping. A new part of him for you to accept and adore. A part of him that, to your knowledge, only you had seen. One that you definitely hoped you would see again and again!

“Daryl, fuck!” You cried out when his index finger joined the first. You shivered almost violently when you felt him smile against your pussy.

“In a minute.” He purred, pumping into you faster.

Your hands moved from the sheets to the headboard, palms flat to keep the thrusts of his hand from pushing you upward. The moans and cries were constant, his mouth and fingers igniting a fire low in your belly. The knot was twisting tighter and tighter, and you grit your teeth when you felt the sparks of it begin to shoot down to your toes and up into your chest.

“Nngh, Daryl! I’m—” You panted, eyes screwed shut and legs trembling. He curled his fingers, driving them against that soft spot inside you mercilessly while his tongue and teeth tortured your clit. Just when you thought you might die from the pleasure of it all, that knot in your belly pulled taunt and snapped. Wave after wave of euphoria traveled through you, broken moans of his name tumbling from your lips like a mantra. You had grabbed his hair again at some point, holding him against your center with your thighs attempting to trap him there. He didn’t seem to mind, too busy eagerly lapping at the nectar you spilled while riding your high.

When you went limp against the mattress, he pulled his fingers from within you, leaving you to whine at the emptiness they left behind. You were still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pressed one last kiss against your sensitive clit before sitting up on his knees. You blinked away the haze in your vision to watch him suck on those two fingers that had just fucked you senseless, your juices still glistening on his face.

You weren’t sure what came over you but you dove forward almost clumsily while he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He caught you easily with the other arm and pulled you against his chest, your arms encircling his neck to pull his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, all tongues and teeth. The absolute need to be close to him in that moment was something you couldn’t explain. When you pulled back to look at him, your pupils blown wide and lips swollen, it was as if he understood before your sex-addled brain could form any words.

“I gotcha, girl.” Daryl said softly, a contradiction to how he had commanded you only moments prior. You nodded and let him kiss you again. It was tender this time, slow and deliberate. The archer began to lay you back. He caught himself with one arm while the other stayed behind your head to control your descent until you were once again on the pillows.

His mouth left yours and began to roam across your jaw. He nuzzled his cheek against yours in a way that you found absolutely adorable but then he was pressing open-mouthed kisses below your ear. Large hands traveled to your chest to cup both of your breasts, calloused fingers exploring the supple mounds before settling to roll your pebbled nipples between them. He kissed his way down, that sinful mouth eager to take over worshiping that part of you.

“Daryl,” you gasped, arching up into him when his mouth closed around your right nipple, “mmmm, Daryl, please!” You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and yet completely ignored. “Please—” you tried again, the plea coming out more like a pathetic whine.

“I know whatcha want.” He murmured against the skin between your breasts. He latched onto your left nipple with his teeth while his left hand took over stimulating the right. “Whatcha need.” You did the only thing you could and twisted your fingers into his hair, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth with a quiet whimper. His touch left you suddenly and you opened your eyes to find him directly above you and lowering down until his lips were just barely touching yours. “But I wantcha to say it anyway.” You felt every syllable against your mouth, the simple action enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. Goddamn, this man knew how to play your body like an instrument.

His fingers were ghosting down your left side only for his hand to maneuver between your bodies. Grasping his cock, he slid it through your folds, gathering your juices in agonizingly slow strokes. Each time the tip of him grazed your clit, your back arched from the mattress with a cry on your lips.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Daryl.” You whined, anchoring your legs around his hips. You dug your heels into the skin just below his ass in a desperate attempt to pull him into you. Too bad he was much stronger than you.

He hummed in response but only began to stroke himself, spreading your slick along his shaft. “Tell me whatcha want me to do, girl.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were going to literally combust if he wasn’t inside you at that moment. You weaved your arms underneath his and pulled at him. “Fuck me, Daryl. Please, please, fuck me!”

He chuckled. The asshole actually chuckled but you didn’t care because he then immediately entered you in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. His arms nearly gave out as your wet heat welcomed him, stretching and molding to his cock as if your body was made just for him. He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder but you were too far gone to notice. The pleasurable burn of accommodating him brought you to new heights. You almost came right on the spot.

“Fuck.” He breathed against your neck, fighting to keep himself in check.

After you both had a moment, Daryl pushed himself up onto his forearms, drawing back his hips slowly before snapping forward and earning a broken moan from you. The feeling of him moving inside you was overwhelming, the push and pull driving every thought from your mind to leave only the ability to feel. And you wanted more.

You clawed at his back, each thrust forward tearing a cry from your throat. You barely registered that his mouth was on yours, but responded immediately, craving the taste of him. The smoke and pine mingled with the taste of your cunt on his tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You swallowed his delectable moan when your hips came up to meet this thrusts, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing off the walls of your room. Bringing a hand to his hair, you pulled his head back, pussy clenching when the action made him hiss between his teeth.

Teeth met his skin, biting down just above his collar bone. The salty taste brought a moan into your throat. You marked him there, sucking hard until you brought blood to the surface and then you released him. “You—feel so good.” You panted before your mouth was back on his. He pulled back suddenly and you whined at the loss of his weight but then he was sitting back on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking into you so hard that you saw stars. It was just on the good side of painful, your cunt spasming around his cock as the familiar heat began to build in your belly.

Daryl didn’t stay that way way long. He released your hips and leaned forward to use the headboard as leverage, pounding you with such force that you again had to brace yourself with your palms. Your cries mixed with his moans and grunts and you prayed that Carol was still away. The angle was intense, each thrust had his tip pressing roughly against your sweet spot, building your pleasure at a pace you wished would slow.

“Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna—” you couldn’t get the words out between breaths and moans, but he knew from the way you tightened around him that you were nearing the precipice. And he was determined to throw you over the edge first.

He released the headboard and grabbed your arms, yanking you up while he sat back on his heels. You grabbed for his shoulders and then encircled his neck, resting one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder blade. He moved his hands to your hips, helping you to bounce on him, spearing yourself on his cock and driving it deeper. Your moans became pleas and then a chant of his name, mouth hanging agape between words and breaths and eyes screwed shut.

“Cum for me.” He grunted against your jaw and that was all it took. You were almost certain you screamed but you couldn’t hear it, vision blacking out as euphoria swallowed you. You came back to yourself as the waves began to ebb, Daryl continuing to fuck you through. Your body felt heavy and uncoordinated and you pulled back a bit to clumsily seek out his mouth, greedily drinking down each sound he offered as he chased his own release. His grip on your hips would leave bruises, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

His movements grew sloppy and you could feel him beginning to twitch and pulse inside you. You pulled your mouth from his and watched him until he pulled you from his lap. You moved quickly, aware of his actions, and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him fast and hard. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your thighs while he fought to breathe through the sensation. His teeth were clenched and his eyes tightly closed, sweat shining on his skin and you were sure it was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

Half a dozen more strokes before you twisted your hand and he cried out, muscles freezing and face contorting into a grimace of pure ecstasy. He breathed out your name, hips jerking and ropes of cum painting your hand and both of your thighs. No, that was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

You pulled his mouth to yours before he could come all the way down, relishing each twitch of his muscles. When you pulled away, he finally opened his eyes and swayed on the spot. He seemed dazed but when his gaze met yours, he leaned forward to kiss you. It was gentle, almost hesitant. As if he didn’t know whether or not you’d welcome it.

“That was amazing.” You whispered, finally catching your breath.

“Yeah.” He replied quietly.

You brought a hand to the side of his face, watching all the courage melt away. His already flushed face was growing impossibly redder. You couldn’t help but smile. He had been dominant and commanding only to morph right back into the Daryl you had fallen in love with.

Your eyes widened.

Shit.

You were in love with him.

You were actually in love with Daryl.

You didn’t move when he got up to grab a towel, slipping on his boxers while he was at it. You still didn’t move as he cleaned you up, his mouth moving once he was done but no sound registering. He snapped his fingers in front of your face and you flinched.

“What’d you say?”

“Ya okay?” His brow was drawn inward in concern. He looked so, so nervous and you just wanted to pull him onto the bed and hold him.

“Yeah, I’m great.” You beamed.

He nodded and worried his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing over at his clothes. “Guess I should go.”

Your face fell as he reached for his pants. “Why?” Daryl froze and looked at you, head tilted. “You could stay. Here. With me.” You offered, your own face reddening. He stayed in the awkward position of halfway reaching toward his shirt but was obviously considering your words.

“Ya want me to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” You smiled sincerely. He nodded and straightened, coming back around to the other side of the bed. He sat stiffly against the headboard, chewing his lip again. You started to lean against him when there came a soft knock at the door. You both looked up and then at one another.

Busted.

You both scrambled to get dressed and it would have been comical had you not been thinking of who could be on the other side of the door. Carol. Rick. Michonne. Oh god, Carl! You looked back at him just as he pulled his shirt over his head, an apologetic expression on your face. Turning the knob and pulling the door open, you smiled innocently at—

No one.

“What the—” You leaned out and looked down each hall to find them empty. However, at your feet were two wrapped plates of food. One with a note addressed to Daryl and the other to you. In Carol’s handwriting.

You looked around for the woman once more while picking up the plates and stepped back into the room, kicking the door shut. Eyebrows raised, you crossed the space to hand Daryl his and then placed yours on the bed, removing the note and unfolding it.

“Good for you. Now tell him that you love him.”

You almost laughed but held it, simply folding your note and putting it in your bedside drawer. Daryl was looking at his own with a raised brow before he folded it and put it in his pocket.

“M’starvin’.” He announced, plopping onto your bed while unwrapping his food. He watched you smile and follow suit, gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

His note?

“Don’t be stupid, Pookie. She loves you too.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x female reader #Spotify

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norman-fucking-reedus · 1 month

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Okaay we’ve talked about Daryl with his daughter but lets talk about your pregnancy for a second..

I can imagine Daryl coming back late in the night, so tired and sore from a long day of work. You had only found out a few hours prior, and seeing the physical ache in his body you knew he could use some hopefully very good news.

“Hi there hunterman” You whispered, sliding his crossbow off his shoulders as he kicked his muddy boots off.

Daryl dropped his head down onto your shoulder, sighing heavily. “Hi”

A moment a silence passed, you simply combing your fingers through Daryl’s hair before gently guiding him to raise his head, eyes meeting yours.

“I have something to tell you” Daryl raised a brow, hands settling st your waist. “Not dyin’ are ya?” You giggled, shaking your head

Reaching for your back pocket, you pulled the test out and handed it to him, watching as he took it between his fingers with a confused gaze, which quickly turned into excitement.

“No way”

“Yes way. We’re gonna have a little Dixon”

Daryl wrapped his arms tightly around you, smile resting on his face until it slowly disappear, a set of tears following suit. He sniffled softly, and you raised your hands up to wipe his falling tears. “It’s okay, big guy.”

“Wha’ if m’not a good dad?” He whispered, and you rolled your eyes at him. “I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you’d be a perfect dad” You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him passionately as his arm circled your waist, a hand sliding up your shirt and caressing the skin.

When you start to go through hormone changes and start forming a bump, Daryl becomes super protective of you. Much so to the point that it annoys you but he doesn’t care, he’ll literally die before someone lays a finger on his woman.

He strictly forbids you from leaving the walls, telling everyone on watch duty to not let you out no matter how much you yell, which in fact, yelled at them a lot. He also refused to let you carry anything that looked just a hair too heavy.

“Nope. Nah. Give ‘ere girl.”

“I can carry it, Dixon”

“I’on care, give it ta me”

He’ll forcibly take the item out your hand, because simply how dare you have to even lift a finger with that baby inside you.

I also honestly feel like Daryl would be really scared to have sex during your pregnancy. Now if its pleasure that you want, Daryl has no probably eating you out till your eyes are rolling and his jaw is cramping.

“I dun’ wanna hurt tha baby”

“Hurt them how?”

“..With m’dick??”

I think about the scene from Big Mouth when Jay fucks his pillow and screams “My dick is right next to the baby’s head” That’s all i’m gonna say about that

Daryl makes sure to give you half of his food, and you don’t have a choice but to take it. (Unless the baby says otherwise) He purposely hunts extra food for that you can have more to eat, especially the further you get along.

By the time you’re about seven months and very undoubtedly pregnant, Daryl would murder anyone in cold blood if they even looked at you wrong.

Although you were crabby and yelled a lot, he was at your complete beck and call. Daryl could only loving stare at you when you complained over something, thinking about how gorgeous you were and how lucky he was that you were the mother of his child.

“Nothing fits right anymore! My shoes don’t even fit”

“Ya don’ need yer shoes if ya never leave”

“I never leave ‘cause you keep me locked here like a fucking prisoner”

“M’keepin my pretty girls safe”

Lots of his clothes have been sacrificed considering you’re literally busting out of yours, and something predatory washes over him seeing your belly prutrude through his shirts.

Birth is definitely hard and Daryl definitely passed out once or twice, but being the man he is he forced himself to pull through for you, and the scars from your nails dragging down his flesh will be a fond memory followed by the sweet sound of loud crying.

You know how much Daryl loves kids, and you’re exhausted from all the pushing, so it only makes sense that he gets first hold. You watch with a small smile as Siddiq guides Daryl to take his shirt off, watching the burly man nervously but eagerly (and carefully) take his newborn into his large hands.

In that moment, cradling his very own precious babygirl, it felt like you were the only three people on earth. Daryl couldn’t take his eyes off the wiggling bundle of life in his arms, rocking slowly in the chair as he burned the image of her tiny little face into his mind.

As you stared at him, you couldn’t help but think about how you really did pick the perfect dad. Daryl Dixon, a hard, strong, intimidating man fear by many, who was now sitting softly, gently and quietly with his daughter laying ontop his bare chest, a large hand keeping her secured. Already a major daddys girl.

The baby stage is easily Daryl’s favorite, and he definitely gets up in the middle of the night when she starts crying or fussing.

I don’t think he’d put her down for a second, like you just won’t see Daryl without her hooked around his arm. He doesn’t bring her into the garage during bike repairs until shes older, not wanting to let his babg inhale toxic bike fumes.

Dog is her protector. Most dogs understand what babies are and how vulnerable to the world they are, so Daryl definitely trains Dog to stay by her side when he can’t be. Instead of sleeping on the couch Dog now sleeps right outside her crib.

On the one occasion when a group a raiders had started searching houses, yours having been one of the first, one of the men made the mistake of opening her door, Dog jumping swiftly into protective mode and clamping his canines into the mans leg. (Also ending the groups raid)

When it comes to breastfeeding, I can imagine the extra lengths Daryl would go. He makes sure you have enough food and nutrients to produce, and totally massages your boobs when you complain about the soreness.

When she’s big enough to start wearing clothes rather than onesies, Daryl definitely finds lots of super cute girly stuff for her because well only the best for his girls. He spoils her totally rotten.

Maybe not completely, but y’know. Her first words end up being an adorably butchered version of Daryl’s name, one that makes him wanna cry and scream cause his daughters first words were his own name.

“Baryl!”

“Ohh good jobs mommas baby! That’s daddys name!”

“She- said- she said- she just- she”

“It’s okay, Baryl we all heard it”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #norman fucking reedus #daryl x reader #twd #daryl x female reader #daryl dixion imagine

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mrdixon · 4 months

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55th Birthday

pairing: established daryl x f!reader

wc: 6k

warnings: 18+ content, lots of plot!!!!, reader shoots a deer, alcohol, little bit of tipsy sex, oral (male AND fem receiving), hair pulling, little talk about pregnancy, slight breeding kink…?, creampie

summary: daryls birthday celebration!!

A/N: birthday fic for daryl since its normans birthday 😋 also ive been doing a lot of established daryl x reader, lmk if yall want something different i just like the way husband/boyfriend daryl feels… probably wrote this on ovulation.

masterlist

“It's the uh sixth of January t’day,” Eugene read from his notebook.

“What!? Shit!” You ran out of the council hall, ignoring Eugene’s confused babbles.

Today was Daryl’s birthday and you completely forgot. To be fair, who was keeping track of time nowadays? Eugene was apparently. You bit your lip as you scurried back home, Daryl was out right now so you had time to collect something to give to him.

Maybe you could bake a cake? Not much to work with though… and he isn't a big fan of sweets. You walked up the porch stairs and walked into the house, kicking your shoes off haphazardly as you furrowed your brows in thought. You thought about making him some arrows, but you didn't have time to make them, nor did you have the material for them.

You walked into the kitchen, throwing open cabinets and pulling open drawers, scrambling for any sort of material you could use to make something. How old was this man turning? You wondered, pausing for a moment.

“Fifty… fifty…” you thought for a long moment, “not in his sixties for sure.” You shrugged and continued your search for materials. Judging by the years that passed he was probably in his mid fifties, the thought making you realize just how long you’ve lived in this apocalypse. You picked up some twine, closing the drawer and running up the stairs. It wouldn't be much but you decided to thread some of your ribbon and twine together as a little charm for his crossbow.

Daryl knew how much you loved your little miscellaneous rubbish, despite his complaints of finding buttons scattered around the house. He brought you back a little wooden box just for your stuff, it would convenience both of you. The box stood atop your nightstand, you flipped it open and plucked out a light pink ribbon, it was one you threaded into your hair occasionally. Daryl always commented on it so you figured maybe he’d appreciate it if he had something of you with him all the time.

You plopped down onto the bed and made a little pattern with the twine and ribbon, intertwining them together into a little bow at the end. He could honestly wear it as a bracelet if he really wanted to, but the thought of having a slightly feminine object amongst his manly crossbow was kinda cute.

You tucked the charm into the pocket of your jeans, grabbing your holster that was also on your nightstand and securing it around your waist. Your gun was placed in there along with your hunting knife that was gifted to you by Daryl himself. You made sure you were fit to go hunting before leaving the house, the only thing you had to do was find your husband now.

You hastily walked down the street towards the front gates where Rosita was keeping watch.

“Rosi!” You called out and ran the rest of the way, she turned and smiled at you, furrowing her brows in curiosity.

“Hey you, whatcha’ need?” She brushed off your shoulder, you just sighed and placed your hands on your hips.

“I need to find Daryl, it's his birthday. He come in yet?” You sighed, fumbling with your fingers.

“No shit?” She asked surprised to which you nodded, “nah he hasn't come in yet. Probably still around the usual hunting grounds.”

“I'm gonna go track him down then,” you muttered and clutched onto the handle of your hunter's knife. Rosita chuckled and moved to open the gate for you.

“Yeah you go do that, be safe.” You nodded halfheartedly and quickly walked out of the gates and towards the forest.

It was surprisingly clear today, you haven't seen any walkers yet. The sun was bright and the atmosphere was just generally, calm. It was a perfect day for Daryl's birthday. You found the markers that stated the hunting grounds and decided on tracking Daryl. He's taught you many of his hunting tactics so why not put them to good use?

This quickly turned out to be useless as Daryl was really cautious out in the woods, and he tended to take careful steps. Meaning, no tracks to track. You groaned as you stalked further into the forest with no hope of finding your husband… until.

Rabbit tracks. Knowing him, Daryl would be following after the rascal. So if you couldn't track his tracks, you’d track the rabbit’s. You kept your hunter’s knife in your hand to be wary of your surroundings, it was way too peaceful to be true. The rabbit had travelled far as you kept walking, and walking… and walking. Eventually you reached a clearing, and the rabbit’s tracks had stopped.

You groaned. You were hopeless. Of course you could always wait for Daryl to just come home, but you wanted to do something for once. Plus if you really did track him down, he'd for sure be proud. And you loved when he was proud of you. You thought about different ways to find him, but there was really nothing to do. He could’ve gone any which way out here, and with no other tracks to look at, it was a lost cause. That was what you thought until you heard the sound of what you believed were your husband's arrows being shot.

You quickly made your way towards the sound, making sure to stay hidden from his sight. After all this was supposed to be a surprise. The more you walked through the bushes, the more you could hear the faint sound of his footsteps. You peeked through the leaves of a bush and saw your husband looking around, he heard something, probably you. You ducked when his body turned in your direction, slowly standing up to see him facing the other before carrying on his journey.

You smirked, you felt like a spy dodging his glances and switching from tree to tree. You kept your distance to not get caught, staring at him from afar as he walked around looking for whatever animal he could get his hands on. The sun shone on his hair, highlighting the little specks of blond scattered amongst his brown locks. Those angel wings that hung from his broad shoulders surely displayed his character. Your eyes travelled down his arms, annoyingly covered by his shirt sleeves. His right hand held his crossbow idly by his side, the other holding that rabbit and his backpack. Daryl was beautiful, he didn't think so but you always reminded him.

You started to get closer to him, close enough to hear him grunt to himself as he sat on a log. You started to get closer from behind, holding your hands out to prepare covering his eyes. He placed his stuff down next to him and looked down at the rabbit in his hand, though not doing anything. Like he was expecting something.

You quickly covered his eyes, not feeling him flinch a bit.

“Guess who?” You taunted playfully, standing right behind him. You heard him snort, his shoulders shaking.

“If I didn’ know it was you, ya would've been shot dead a while ago.” He shook his head chuckling as you removed your hands from his eyes and moved around the log to stand in front of him, your hands on your hips.

“Jeez, you couldn't humour me just a little bit?” You frowned at his smug expression, he was playing around with the rabbit in his hands.

“Nah, ya gotta work on yer tracking. Could hear ya from a mile away,” he snorted seeing your annoyed expression while simultaneously looking you up and down. “Is tha’ my shirt yer wearin’?” You looked down at the shirt you were wearing, noticing how much looser it was on you.

“Yeah, I guess it is, why?” You asked while plucking a pine needle off of the fabric.

“Ya didn’ have any other shirt ta wear?” He furrowed his brows before stuffing the rabbit in his bag, his head tilting back to look up at you.

“I just grabbed a random shirt from my dresser, why? Would you rather I not wear anything?” You crossed your arms and watched as he looked you up and down again, saying nothing but raising his brows. You rolled your eyes, “don't answer that.”

“I ain’ sayin’ anythin’.” He raised both hands up defensively before patting down the spot next to him. You grumbled but sat next to him, sighing as you relaxed and lay your head on his shoulder. He hummed in acceptance, placing his hand on your knee. “So why’re ya ‘ere?”

You sat back up, you almost forgot the reason why you were out here.

“Right, shit.” You fished out the handmade charm from your pocket, holding it out in front of him. He chuckled, taking it from your fingers and taking a closer look at it.

“’s cute, this fer me?” You nodded in response and his lip curled into a smirk, “this tha’ ribbon ya put in yer hair?” You nodded again as he pointed to the pink ribbon amongst the twine.

“Thought it'd be cute if you had a little something of me near you when you're out, you can tie it to your crossbow.” You murmured shyly, feeling like a schoolgirl giving her crush valentines chocolate.

“I love it,” he smiled genuinely before grabbing his crossbow and putting it between his legs so he could tie it to the handle. “Perfect, but why the sudden gift? Ya dyin’ or somethin’?”

You chuckled, “well…” He sat up straight and shot you a concerned glance. “No, I’m not. I’m giving it to you cause it's your birthday.”

His concern flushed away with a look of confusion, his hand coming up to rub his chin.

“My birthday? How do ya even know?” He narrowed his eyes questioningly.

“Eugene.”

“Ah…”

He nodded, looking back down at the charm before looking back at you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and brought you close, kissing your forehead.

“Well thank you, I ‘preciate it.” He rested his chin on the top of your head, stroking your hair. “My birthday, haven' had one in a while.. damn, ‘m fuckin’ old aren’ I?”

You snorted, moving out of his grasp to look up at him. “You're not that old,” he gave you a ‘yeah right’ kind of look. “No really! You look quite young for your age.”

“Sure thing, ya just like butterin’ up yer husband.” He sneered playfully, you punched his chest in turn while chuckling.

“We’re both getting old hun,” you sighed contently and leaned against his body, feeling him let out a tiny sigh of his own.

“Mhm, yer still hot as hell though.” You laughed, covering your face while you felt his body shake in silent laughter. “’m not lyin’.”

“I know you aren't,” you chuckled and sat up straight. “Okay but… you have to admit, I did somewhat a good job on tracking you.”

Daryl snorted and raised his brows at you, but immediately stifled his chuckle when you frowned.

“Okay, okay sure. Ya did do a good job, ‘sides scarin’ my deer away with yer big ass footsteps.” You groaned at his feedback, kicking his ankle gently. You looked away from him and felt a gentle kiss on the back of your head, his warm breath on your neck. “Nah seriously, ya did a good job locatin’ me.”

“Really?” You turned around to face him quickly, “mean it?” He chuckled as you beamed at him, nodding.

“Yes really, now ya wanna help me find that deer so we can all eat t’night?” He nudged you on your lower back, his fingertips grazing your ass. You glanced at him, noticing a cheeky grin before standing up.

“Sure, why not? Maybe you could help me track better,” you dusted off your backside and took out your hunter's knife. He stood up with a grunt, slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his crossbow before leading the way.

“It went off in this direction, couldn’ ‘ave gone far.” He murmured lowly as he pointed towards the direction where the river was. You nodded and followed close behind him, wincing as you stepped on a few twigs. Daryl turned and smirked slightly, “alrigh’. Watch where ya step, find soft ground an’ take ligh’ footsteps.”

“I think that’s obvious,” you muttered and heard him snort, taking your hand in his.

“Look,” he pointed to a leaf on the ground with his crossbow. “Tha’s gonna crunch when ya step on it,” he looked at you to see if you were listening before continuing his tangent, “ya can tell if a leaf is crunchy if ‘s browned on the tips and edges. When the colour of the leaf is dull or muddy, it’ll be soft. So ya can step on it but ya have ta be careful ‘cause sometimes tha’s just the colour of the leaf.”

“Then what about twigs?” You squeezed his hand and swung his arm with yours back and forth while you two walked.

“Well those are gonna snap if ya step on ‘em obviously,” he rolled his eyes matter-of-factly. “Jus’ watch yer step, eventually you’ll be good enough at watching yer step tha’ it’ll just be second nature ta ya. Which is why I dun’ have to look down every time I take a step.” He nudged you playfully, watching as you bowed your head and took various lengths of steps.

Daryl chuckled softly, releasing his grip on your hand to grab your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Dun’ keep lookin’ at the ground though, ya keep doin’ tha’ an’ you’ll lose yer prey. Or worse, you’ll run into a walker wit’ yer head down.” You scoffed and shook your head, grabbing his hand again while he continued to walk ahead.

You occasionally glanced down at your feet, but kept looking ahead to watch your surroundings. Eventually, you found some deer tracks and elbowed Daryl.

“Deer tracks,” you pointed with your knife. He hummed in approval and let go of your hand to fully grasp his crossbow, turning his head over his shoulder and nodded as a signal for you to keep following him. You pressed your lips into a thin line and proceeded to follow the archer, making sure to take lighter steps.

The deer quickly came into view, unknowingly chewing on some not so crunchy leaves. Daryl raised a finger to keep you still and quiet, before beckoning you with that same finger. You quietly moved next to him, the two of you crouching behind a tree. His blue eyes met yours, holding his hand out for yours. You gave him your hand and he flipped it over so your palm was to the sky, and then he placed the handle of his crossbow in your hand. Your eyes quickly widened and you shook your head.

“No, Dar! I can’t shoot this thing!” You hissed quietly, seeing his expression shift into an amused one.

“Yeah ya can, dun’ worry. I’ll help ya,” he took your other hand and guided it to the foregrip before grabbing your waist and maneuvering you in front of him. He kept his body pressed against your back, his hands on yours and mimicked your placement. Your breath hitched as he moved his head to rest over your shoulder, his lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Now aim fer the deer.”

His whisper sent a wave of heat through you, closing your eyes to calm yourself before opening them again and following his instruction. Gripping onto the foregrip, your raised the cross bow slightly and aim towards the deer, hearing a low whistle of approval.

“Good, now can ya take a shot at it?” His warm breath hit your ear again and you nodded, his pointer finger over yours as you started to slowly pull the trigger.

THWACK

You flinched and widened your eyes to see the deer on its side, an arrow sticking out of it. Daryl chuckled and let go of you, patting your waist.

“Good girl.” The nickname made you shiver a little, hoping he didn’t notice. “See, I told ya you could do it.” He took the crossbow from you and slung it over his shoulder before walking over to the deer. You walked proudly after him, watching crouch next to the deer and finishing it off with his knife.

“I may have lost your deer earlier but I shot it,” you grinned as you placed your hands on your hips. He chuckled and stood up, kissing your forehead.

“Tha’, you did. Now carry my bag so I can lug this home,” you smiled to yourself and took his bag, slinging it over both your shoulders as he threw the deer over his shoulders. Your eyes sparkled as you looked up at him, wishing you were the deer right now.

“Well now we’ll have something to eat for your birthday dinner, isn’t that right?” You chuckled as you both started walking back to Alexandria.

“Yer gonna cook me somethin’?” He raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Ya already made me tha’ charm.”

“Of course I’m gonna cook you dinner, hell it’s your birthday. You deserve more than that flimsy ol’ thing,” you snorted while adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“Ya dun’ ‘ave ta,” he grunted. “Ya could just gimme a kiss an’ I’ll be okay wit’ tha’.” You laughed at his comment, shaking your head.

“But I want to,” he couldn’t argue with that logic. Instead he just sighed and nodded his head, the two of you continuing to walk in silence.

Daryl was in the shower while you pranced around the kitchen searing the share of deer you were given, making some venison steak for dinner. The smell of rosemary and lemon filled your nostrils as you stirred some mashed potatoes in another pot, the hiss of the meat cooking on the pan was delectable. You hummed while throwing some peas into the pot of mashed potatoes, along with some butter and salt before stirring it once more and turning off the stove. You checked on the venison which looked perfectly cooked, tasting a bit of the sauce left over and decided it was perfect.

“Really outdid myself tonight,” you hummed and turned off the stove completely before setting up some plates on the dinner table. You precisely plated the steaks on the plate, scooping the mashed potatoes intricately before drizzling some canned cranberry sauce over it. You smiled proudly and poured some red wine into some glasses before lighting up a few candles. After accessing your work you quickly ran upstairs to change into a little cocktail dress, still wanted to impress your husband after all. Speaking of, you could hear Daryl fix up in the bathroom so you hurried on. You fixed up your hair in the mirror and took one last glance over your body before running back downstairs, taking your seat at the table.

You waited patiently, letting him take his time to fix up. He wasn’t going to expect all of this, the dimmed lights and candlelit dinner, but you were ready to see his expression.

Daryl came down the stairs, his hair slightly damp and over his eyes. Your eyes trailed down his neck towards his button-up, which had a few buttons undone already, and he was wearing his usual pants. His head perked up at the smell of the delicious food, brushing his hair out of his eyes and taking in the sight before him.

You grinned cheekily as he stood there, mouth agape in shock. Catching himself, he smirked slight at you and brought his hand over his mouth, his eyes glazing over your legs.

“Thought you were jus’ makin’ me dinner,” he drawled lowly. “Didn’ expect a whole feast,” he gestured towards you. You laughed as he took his seat, his eyes still on you.

“Shut up, try your food.” You giggled as you pulled your chair in and cut at your steak, letting your eyes dart up to see what he thought. He looked down at his plate and picked up his knife and fork and cut into his, dipping a slice into the mashed potatoes to get a taste of everything before shoving it into his mouth. He groaned and leaned back in his chair as he continued chewing.

“Jesus christ, (Y/N)…” You giggled and took a bite yourself, groaning as well while leaning back.

“Damn, I’m good.” You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your wine, Daryl sitting up to do the same. He swirled his wine a couple times in the glass before taking a good chug and swallowing the liquid.

“Mmh, yeah ya are.” He grunted and continued to eat his food. You smiled lovingly at him, his gaze drifted back up to yours. He chewed his food and smiled back at you, just as loving. “Ya look beautiful.”

“You do too,” you grinned and earned a snort of disbelief from him. “You are!” You giggled, causing his stomach to swarm with butterflies, the sound of your laughter bringing joy to him.

The dinner consisted of you two talking and giggling about old memories, sipping wine and sharing longing glances across the table. Eventually you both finished your dinner but remained sitting at the table and drinking your wine.

“Do you remember when I fell off the back of your motorcycle and you refused to take me anywhere for two weeks?” You giggled against the rim of your wine glass, your eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Sure do, an’ I didn’ take ya anywhere fer two weeks because ya broke yer damn arm an’ had to heal.” He crossed his arms and had a stern look on his face, but laughed nonetheless.

You just giggled and finished your glass, reaching for the bottle for some more but it was quickly snatched away.

“Not too fast,” Daryl chuckled, reaching for your glass and pouring it himself. “Thank you fer all this, ‘s by far the best birthday I’ve had in a while.” He handed you your glass back, brushing his fingers over yours as he did.

“It’s nothing… I just wanted to spoil you a little, even if it’s just a little.” You smiled and took a sip of the wine, your head starting to spin a little. He noticed and took your glass away, finishing the rest himself. You chuckled, “I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know, but I dun’ want ya completely drunk.” He took the plates and glasses and put them in the sink before sitting back down in his seat.

“Why’s that?” You leaned forward, grinning expectantly.

“’Cause I wanna be able to reward ya fer yer hard work,” he smirked and leaned back in his seat, manspreading like his life depended on it. “C’mere.”

As if you were in a trance you immediately stood up and wobbled over to him, your mind still hazy but you both knew what you wanted. He tilted his head back to look up at you, that same cocky smirk painted across his lips. He kept his hands on his thighs, and it was like a silent communication of what he wanted. You bit your lip and held eye contact as you kneeled down between his legs, his head cocking to the side as he looked down at you, bring one hand into your hair.

“Good girl… now I may be askin’ too much, but do ya mind?” He nodded towards his erection that was eagerly straining against his pants. You shook your head, bringing your hands up to unbuckle his belt. He grumbled graciously, his fingers curling in your hair.

You bit your lip as you solely focused on getting his pants off, feeling him lift his hips up a bit to make the removal process easier for you. You glanced up at him while sliding his pants and boxers off in one go, he grunted softly as his cock sprang out. His pants and boxers hung around his ankles as you moved closer, inspecting his length. The head was flushed red, and looked almost painfully hard as it twitched from the feeling of your warm breath brushing against it.

As you continued gawking at his cock, Daryl got impatient and took his length in his hand. Your drunken body felt even more turned on as you watched your husband stroke himself slowly, brushing his thumb over the sensitive tip and hissing. You whimpered, biting your lip as you moved closer. The cold tile against your thighs was a good relief from your aching heat, feeling yourself get wetter the more you watched him.

Daryl brought his other hand to the back of your neck, bringing you even closer as he held his cock and guided it to your lips. You closed your eyes and let him run his length against your cheeks, giggling a little as he slapped the tip against your lips. He pushed the head of his cock against your lips which you quickly parted, letting him slide half his length into your mouth.

You both groaned at the contact, both his hands moving into your hair while one of your hands moved to hold onto the base. Daryl threw his head back and whimpered softly as you literally sucked on him once, pulling off to leave little kitty licks on his sensitive tip. He pulled your hair into a ponytail and tugged on it when you took him into your mouth again, rolling his eyes back as your tongue swirled around the tip. He let out multiple moans and whimpers of pleasure as you bobbed your head, stroking what you couldn’t take with your hand.

You could feel him start to get close, by the sounds of his breathless whimpers and the way his grasp on your hair got tighter. You let go of his cock and braced yourself before fully letting him in, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. He moaned loudly, making a sound of protest and trying to pull you off of him. You didn’t budge and kept bobbing your head, gagging every time he hit the back of your throat. He whined breathily, his cock twitching in your mouth as he got closer and closer. Your eyes were teary but you kept going, wanting to taste his sweet release.

Daryl tugged your hair hard, groaning deeply as he came. Splurging ropes of warm semen into your mouth, you eagerly licked it all up, savouring the saltiness of his release. The sound and sight of him coming almost had you releasing yourself, reaching down to squeeze between your legs.

His hand released your hair and caressed the back of your head soothingly, as an apology for his rough tugging. You looked up at him as you swallowed the rest of his seed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Get up fer me,” he whispered hoarsely, grabbing onto your thighs as you obeyed. He stood up after you and pulled you against his chest, his cock stirring back to life as you felt it press between your thighs. One hand was on your waist while the other held your chin, tilting your head back to look at him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip before dipping his head to kiss you deeply. He groaned into your mouth as he tasted himself on your tongue, your tongues wrapping together as you fought for dominance. Ultimately, he won and you let yourself be kissed aggressively by this man.

He placed both hands on your hips, pushing you back and pulling his lips off yours. Before you could think he turned you around and bent you over the dinner table, his hand immediately moving under your dress. You cried out as his fingers rubbed your wet heat over your panties which were well soaked by now, he kept his other hand on your lower back before pulling your panties off. He pushed the skirt of your dress up and over your ass, keeping you bent over on display for him. You didn’t hear anything for a few moments, the alcohol in your system making you hear your heart beat in your ears. Your knees buckled as you felt his tongue run along your slit, you whined slightly while his hands held you steady.

His tongue wiggled around between your folds, a soft cry escaping your lips every time he brushed over your clit. His lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it and you could feel him smirk when you cried out. He continued this motion, your eyes rolling back while the top half of your body lay flat against the table. His tongue was replaced by his finger, rubbing your clit harshly and making your leg tremble in sensitivity. You moaned loudly, the sound of your moans echoed through the kitchen while his tongue entered you. You gasped harshly at the intrusion, your nails scratching against the table as his tongue thrusted in and out of your wet heat. The warm feeling of coming undone was brewing up in your stomach, your moans ragged.

“Fuck… Dar I’m gonna cum,” you whined breathlessly. He didn’t stop, rubbing your clit even harder and causing you to arch you back and squirm against his face. His tongue remained inside of you as you came, your breath heavy while he licked up your sweet nectar. You sighed and lay your head against the table, your mind swirling with lust and haziness from the orgasm.

“Stay there,” he grunted as he stood up, rubbing the flesh of your ass with his palm. “Ya look so beautiful bent over fer me like this. Makes me wan’ ta fill ya up, put a baby in ya.” Your breath hitched, looking over your shoulder to see if he was serious.

“Really?” You whispered hoarsely, your eyes sparkling in want. “You want a baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grumbled, standing behind you while caressing your ass. “I mean hell, we’re both gettin’ old. I wanna be able to give ya a child before we can’t… will ya let me?”

“Yes, oh god yes Dar please.” You pleaded, earning a light tap to your bum as he bit his lip.

“Then be a good girl fer me and lay still, yer perfect.” He whispered, running his length between your ass cheeks teasingly. You bit your lip and lay your head against the wood of the table, panting in anticipation as he continued to rub his cock against you. He held his cock in his hand and rubbed the head against your clit, spreading your folds so he could thrust along them. You both moaned simultaneously, the two of you relishing the slick feeling.

He pulled his cock back, circling it around your entrance before pushing forward, filling you completely. You moaned out in delight, closing your eyes and clenching around the length inside you, feeling your walls mold to his cock. He groaned, grabbing your hips and moving back and forth slowly. Your eyes rolled back, biting your lip hard as you felt every inch of his velvety skin stroke your inner walls.

His fingers surely were leaving marks on your hips from how hard he was gripping onto you, clearly holding himself back from taking you roughly. He kept the pace slow, his cock occasionally brushing against your sweet spot but not fully meeting it. You moved back to meet his thrusts, earning a moan of approval from your movements. It still wasn’t enough.

“Need you deeper,” you pleaded softly, the high pitched tone of yours making his hips stutter. One of his hands ran up your back, grasping your hair and gently tugging you, prompting you to come up. You obeyed instantly, pushing yourself up as he carefully pulled you back to his chest. Your back arched as his hand trailed down over your throat, holding you against his shoulder.

He pressed his hips harder into you, eliciting a light breathy whine from you as your back arched further. He continued his hard thrusts, turning his head to press kisses along your neck, his cock reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust of his hips. You were closer to getting what you wanted, just one swivel of your hips against his was what got it. He slammed against your sweet spot, your jaw dropped and you closed your eyes as he kept hitting the spot. Your moans came out freely, his palm against your throat as you leaned back on his shoulder, mewling and whining loudly.

His grunts came in your ear, his breath heavy and hot as the both of you started to sweat from exertion. The sound of your skin slapping together echoed through the kitchen along with your whimpering moans and his grunts and groans. He let go of your throat and let you fall over the table, placing both his hands on your hips and thrusting with renewed intensity. His hips slapped against yours hard, his eyes watching your ass jiggle with every contact. He brought a hand up to grip your ass, pushing himself deeper into your pussy. The wet sounds of him thrusting in and out just filled you with more arousal, closing your eyes to fully immerse yourself in the moment.

You tightened around his cock as you felt yourself coming close to completion, the feeling of your walls tight around him made Daryl groan deeply. His hips stuttered but kept the pace, fucking you deeply and hard. It was clear he was also close as his grip on you became tighter and his movements got sloppier.

“Fuck, yer so tigh’… gonna fill ya up,” he groaned, thrusting harder into you. “Gonna make ya carry my babies.”

His words sent a chill up your spine, mewling out in pleasure and desire. “I want that… please…” You begged pathetically, your voice barely a whisper from all your crying and moaning.

“Imma give it to ya, dun’ worry baby. Gonna cum inside ya so deep,” he grunted, pulling your hips back in time with his movements. “Gonna give ya a baby, make ya a mama.” You whined in desire, clawing at the wood as your body trembled. Your orgasm quickly coming up.

You screamed out his name as you came for the second time tonight, rolling your eyes back as you did. You lay against the table while your legs struggled to keep you standing, his hips rapidly pushing in and out of you as he chased his orgasm.

“Shit, fuckin’ tigh’ as shit.” He cursed haphazardly, his balls tightening as they threatened to burst. “C’mon take it, take it pretty girl,” he shouted as he came, deep inside of you like he promised. He fucked you through his orgasm, groaning softly before pulling out.

Your entire body shook in sensitivity, your legs threatening to give out. Daryl continued to hold you up, watching your pussy drip with his cum. He reached down to scoop it back into you, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling.

“Dun’ wan’ this ta go ta waste now do we?” He taunted hotly into your ear, pulling your panties up and letting your dress fall over your ass. He slapped your ass playfully before pulling up his own underwear and pants, buckling his belt. “Now let’s go cuddle upstairs hm?” He chuckled lowly and scooped you up into his arms, his expression softening at your fucked out expression.

You looked up at him sleepily and nodded, pulling his head down to kiss him softly. He hummed against your lips, taking you upstairs.

“Happy birthday, Dar.”

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cultofdixon · 4 months

Text

Only you understand

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • There’s only one person on Daryl’s good side and it’s not even his brother. So when certain decisions led to leaving Merle chained to a roof, you were the one to talk to the youngest Dixon • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Unprotected Sex / Groping / Grinding • TW: Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

She’s heard it all

Y/N I could use a favor?

Got a second Y/N?

Mind talking to them, Y/N?

Sweetheart, can I pick your ear about something?

It all falls around the same thing. Asking the Dixon Brothers for anything…mainly for help acquiring food within the woods that the sickos haven’t taken for themselves. But they did everything she asked. Some thought it was because Merle would do anything and everything for her attention even if she doesn’t give him an ounce of anything.

But it’s really Daryl. Y/N is the only one that the youngest Dixon brother tolerates and some, more like Glenn alone, believes the Dixon likes her personally.

“Y/N…we need yea for something” Dale didn’t mean to disturb the girl when she was in the middle of another batch of squirrels she was skinning to prepare for the stew.

“Dale. This must be serious” Y/N half jokes as she wipes her knife off with her rag. “You’re usually not the one to ask me for help”

“Right well, you know the drill” Dale frowns removing his bucket hat and squeezing it out of nervous habit. “This isn’t gonna go well”

“If it’s anything like Daryl and Shane fighting over a little dispute about hunting grounds, I think I can handle—-“

“Lori’s husband came back with the Atlanta group, but they left Merle behind hand cuffed to roof” Dale stated without hesitating or letting Y/N process as she drops everything to go check on Lori for another personal matter that almost everybody knows about before thinking of the words to tell Daryl when he returns from his hunting trip.

When Y/N made herself known to the man that left the eldest Dixon behind as she felt a sense of warmth with the family reunion. But she knew that was going to be cut extremely short if Daryl gets his hands on him.

“You’re the Rick guy?”

“You must be Y/N, the resident Dixon whi—-“

“If you call me that stupid fucking shit that Shane came up with, I will hit you in front of your son” Y/N frowns watching Rick zip his lips to let her get to it. “What’s your plan here?”

“I don’t think I get what you mean” Rick laughs slightly only to immediately stop when it wasn’t getting anywhere with Y/N. “Are you talking about getting Merle back? I think we can do a bit of justice without the racist son of a bitch”

“Oh believe me, I agree wholeheartedly with that. But he’s not your family. I think you can agree that if it were you that got left behind, that you would want someone to come and find you” Y/N watches his expression fall making her cross her arms and stand her ground. “Right. You understand that completely and no one came to bring you back”

“Now that’s uncalled for, Y/N” Shane interrupts only for Y/N to take her leave on that note, picking up her axe from beside the put out fire pit.

“Sit with it, Shane. Call me when you have a plan, I have to try and keep his ass from being killed by the man who’s brother you left on that roof” as Y/N leaves the group to follow a familiar hunting ground to find the archer, Rick was left thinking about what she said.

No one came back for him.

The next day came around and the woods were quiet until they weren’t…

“Stupid fucking shit” Daryl curses under his breath over another deer being eaten by another walker.

As he knelt down to get a look at the damage to see if he could take any of the meat back, he heard a shift in the woods. The archer quickly rose to his feet aiming his crossbow and when the figure didn’t make themselves known, he fired.

Daryl instantly tensed when Y/N made herself known with an annoyed expression at him and the arrow in the tree beside her head.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I should be askin’ yea the same thing!” Daryl scoffs taking the arrow from her hand once she pulled it out. “I could’ve killed yea”

“Yeah well you’d do me a favor” The one thing he hated about her was her joking about death. “You gotta head back”

“Yeah?” Daryl scoffs putting his arrow away. “Ran out of food?”

“No, I’ve given them my squirrels to make a stew out of. But this is more of a matter regarding your idiotic brother”

Why did you give them the food I caught for—-“Wait. Merle? Is he back?”

“Daryl no he—-“ Daryl brushes past Y/N causing her to quickly deflate and follow him back to the campsite.

“Swear, yea think I don’t know they get yeah to talk to me about my idiot brother”

“I mean would you rather have Shane talk to you about Merle? Now Daryl come on. I gotta tell yea—-“ Y/N stops herself when he rose his hand indicating he heard something.

Daryl gave her a quick sign that it was another deer and then Y/N decided to take a second to put the Merle conversation on the back burner.

“They never make it this far up the mountain” Dale frowns staring at the walker that Jim had finished off once the group addressed the children’s screaming.

“They are running out of food in the city” Jim states stepping away from the carcass and the undead beside it.

Before any of them thought of walking back, that’s when the bushes started to rustle some more. Shane instantly readied his shotgun aiming toward the sound until he lowered it along with the others doing the same with their weapons of choice when their resident hunter popped out with the “Dixon whisperer” following behind him.

“Son of a bitch” Daryl scoffs bringing himself over to the deer. “That’s my deer…look at it. All gnawed on by this—“ he quickly kicked the walker out of anger. “Filthy, disease-bearing, motherless proxy bastard!”

“Daryl, come on” Y/N elbowed him when she brought herself close, giving Rick a certain look to watch his words.

“Think we can—-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Dar. It’s not safe” She pushes him carefully away from the tainted meat as Shane couldn’t agree more but when his voice spoke up, both gave him an annoyed look.

Then it was time.

“Merle!” Daryl calls out brushing passed everyone as both Shane and Rick gave Y/N a confused look.

“What?! You think I can instantly get through to the guy? It’s a conversation not a “oh by the way” type shit like you pigs are used to” Y/N scoffs shoving Shane to catch up to Daryl.

“MERLE! GET YOUR UGLY ASS OUT HERE” Daryl shouts once more, surprised slightly that his idiot brother didn’t instantly come. “I got us some squirrel! Gotta help Y/N skin’em for the stew!”

“Daryl, hold up. I need to talk to you” Shane caught up pushing Y/N aside as that lead her to give Lori a glare on the matter given she knows her hatred for the man. Not that she fully expresses it given what she’s walked on in the woods.

Daryl slowed his movement turning around to the pig watching him hesitate before getting to it.

“There’s been an incident in Atlanta…about Merle”

The tension grew in the space making the archer give his only close friend there a blank expression that she wasn’t giving him any answer from hers.

“He dead?”

“We’re not sure” And that caused the emotions to rise.

“He either is or he ain’t!” Daryl rose his voice watching the unfamiliar man bring himself over.

“No easy way to say this so I’ll just say it—-“

“Who are you?”

“Rick Grimes—-“

“Rick Grimes” Daryl mocks watching Y/N get closer to the situation. “You’ve got something you want to tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all” Okay… “So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He’s still there” Rick states watching Daryl’s rage grow on his face as he takes a step back scoffing slightly with a hint of a chuckle.

“Hold on, let me process this—-“ Daryl laughs with the venom in his tone of voice. “You saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and YOU LEFT HIM THERE?!”

The silent “yeah” that came out of Rick made Y/N wince ahead of time for what was about to happen next. Even if Daryl didn’t land a punch on either ex-cops. It wasn’t until Shane started to get Daryl into a chokehold that she brought herself over clawing at him to let go.

“Nah he’s gotta calm down before I—-“ And without another thought, Y/N punched Shane square in the jaw to let go of Daryl. She quickly caught his knife under her foot to swipe it away from him trying to get a shot on the new comer. “You crazy son of a bitch!” He barked at her as Y/N quickly stood in front of Daryl blocking him from either of the two.

“Chokeholds illegal asshole” Y/N barked back getting up in his face to have him stand back and away from Dixon. “Seriously. You fucking morons”

“You clearly didn’t prepare—-“

“Oh and you fucking did?” Y/N scoffs at Rick bringing herself to Daryl. “You need to let me fucking tell you next time so this wouldn’t happen. Can’t have them being fucking entitled dicks to the only motherfucker that understands me! Jesus.”

The tension only grew within the group as Daryl couldn’t calm the pounding in his chest when she said such.

“He listens. Rick’s gonna go and get him” Lori was quick to add crossing her arms as she wasn’t exactly happy about the situation. “He’ll listen to about anybody but his wife.”

Daryl waited for the group to disperse before bringing himself over to Y/N, taking her by the arm and dragging her slightly to his tent.

“You’re hurting me—-“ Y/N frowns as Daryl lets go quickly giving her a stern look before taking her hand into his to check the bruising from punching Shane. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay—-Sure” Daryl scoffs. “Yea ain’t coming”

“Seriously? How the fuck—-“

“YOU JUST AINT” He snaps a bit too close to her face resulting in a flinch coming from her as Y/N puffed up. “I don’t trust that Grimes guy and I ain’t letting yea near him after the fucking stunt he pulled with Merle”

“I can handle myself, Daryl.”

“Yeah. No shit. But you don’t have’ta” Daryl frowns feeling her presence grow closer to his person as he towered her slightly. “You didn’t have to stand up for me”

“Little too late for that. I just…wanted yea to know what happened from someone who gives a damn.” Y/N took a step back keeping her attention on him as the look in his expression seemed to want more and that drew the pounding in her chest to get louder. “Well find Merle, and whether you like it or not. I’m coming with”

I can’t lose you. Daryl frowns followed by a nod deciding not to argue further with the woman.

But nothing went their way since returning back to Atlanta, even when returning back to the quarry empty handed…

After taking out the herd that swept through the quarry camp, Daryl didn’t hesitate to shove T-Dog out of the way of getting to Y/N. She strayed from the group when returning to take out a few walkers by Carol and her daughter, he didn’t see her until the dust settled and wasn’t about to lose his mind all over again.

“You bit?!”

“No! Are you?” Y/N went to check his person as Daryl tugged her aside from everyone else back to their secluded corner. “Daryl please just answer—-“ she was instantly cut off by his lips smashing into hers, making her drop her axe to bring her hands onto either side of his face. In her mind the timing could’ve been better but neither of them was going to interrupt the moment. “Dar—-“ she breathed when their lips parted a moment.

“Ain’t bit.” He quickly responds with while returning his lips to hers as he drops his crossbow to his side bringing his hands to her hips gripping them.

Y/N tugged back a bit receiving a concerned look from Daryl until she brought her hands to his belt and he got the idea. He helped her get the belt off that led her to work at the buttons while he slipped her shirt off quickly bringing his hands back to her hips tugging her jeans down steadying her to finish removing them. Daryl brought his lips to hers once more before moving to her cheek down to her neck and then her collarbone working his way down while helping her descend along with him.

“Can’t—-“ He exhaled suddenly making Y/N stop her actions until he pressed his forehead against hers. “Can’t lose yea” he sighs feeling her arms snake around his neck while he positioned himself in between her legs towering her on the dirt.

“I’m right here, Dixon” She returned her lips quickly to his as he feverishly kissed her while bringing his hands below the belt to remove her panties along with pushing his pants and boxers further for his cock to spring out.

While Y/N found purchase on the back of his shirt, Daryl started to push his length in inch by inch listening to her gasps as she dug her nails into the fabric bringing her legs around his lower back. He didn’t move right away and waited for her to adjust once he was fully sheathed.

“Y/N—-“

“Please” Her voice shook with anticipation wanting him to move but there was more to it as she brushes her face against his feeling his lips graze her features. “Please tell me it ain’t just me”

“It ain’t just you, sunshine” He exhales, starting to move thrusting inside of her warmth listening to her quiet sounds wishing he could drive them out but didn’t want anyone to interrupt them.

As he picked up the pace, Daryl felt her tighten around him drawing a low growl to escape his lips feeling her bring themselves to his shoulder and bite down when she felt the cord begin to snap.

“Let go for me, sunshine” Daryl begged bringing his lips back onto hers listening to her hum while bucking her hips against his as he moans into her mouth at the feeling of her unraveling. “Fuck—“ he pulls out quickly before he could climax inside of her.

The archer carefully lays on top of her feeling her death grip on his shirt weaken and flatten her hands against his torso. Slowly bringing one of her hands to run through his hair as they both panted softly remaining in the other’s embrace.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

“I can’t lose yea” Daryl frowns feeling her tighten around him for reassurance.

“You’re stuck with me, Daryl” She laughs softly feeling him shift to rise above her to look at her as she couldn’t help the littlest head tilt wondering more of what’s going on in that mind of his. “What is it?”

“Guess this uh…explains a lot of what I’ve been feelin’ lately” He laughs slightly with her joining.

“Truly, and uhm. I hope this…isn’t the only time and—“

“You’re mine, sunshine. We’re something”

“We’re something” Y/N smiles catching a glimpse of his smile before he started to clean themselves up.

It took them long enough.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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twistedwonderlandsimps · 5 months

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Small Yuu Hunt Idea

Okay but like what if Yuu Hunt, older sibling of Rook Hunt, was just this constantly haggard and tired person. They’re the complete opposite of Rook. It’d be even more funnier if the rest of the Hunt family was similar to Rook. Yuu would just be surrounded by these overly theatrical people 24/7 and questioning their entire existence. They'd be running up to Grim and be like:

“Grim! Grim, I need your help! Do you think I’m adopted? Do I look adopted? I think I might be adopted. Or maybe I got switched at birth at the hospital.” “Under the Hunt family’s watch? Face it, Yuu, you’re completely blood-related to them.” “Frère/soeur!~” “Bordel de merde! Shit! Rook’s coming. See you later, Grim! I'm ditching this place!” “Oi, you think I wanna be left alone with your little brother?! Take me with you!”

Yuu’s terrified of Rook because while the rest of their family are… well, unique, Rook is just a whole different breed.

Imagine Yuu Hunt using a crossbow for its speed and accuracy (or maybe a gun for hunting?), one which they use to keep Rook at bay because he keeps trying to hunt them down for some reason?! Out of all their siblings, Rook’s the only one who does this and they are terrified.

Like, Yuu would be peacefully taking a walk outside and suddenly an arrow shoots past just inches away from their face.

But of course as a Hunt, Yuu is also a seasoned hunter. It's just that they mostly use their skills to evade their siblings, especially Rook, when they have to.

Alternatively, Rook's the only outlier in their family but it's still the same story for Yuu. Rook always keeps on hunting them and never their other siblings.

Yuu, having a mental breakdown: Rook… Rook, what are you doing in my house Ramshackle? *crying* What are you doing in Ramshackle? Rook, standing in the darkest corner of their room: Bonjour!~

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xoxo-sarah · 8 months

Note

more angst with daryl yelling at or arguing with fem reader for literally anything, ( ex. talking his ear off, being overly clingy, kissing him to much ) like him being so overwhelmed with everything going on in the world that he thinks she’s the problem he’s so angry and stressed out thinking this relationship thing isn’t for him but soon realizes she’s not after she begins crying and tells him she’ll stop doing whatever he was yelling at her for😋 ending with him being very apologetic and holding her and crying saying stuff like “ i dun deserve you “ “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry..” and she holds him and tell him it’s okay😁

Distracted

↝a/n: went a little off request but I kinda like this. Thank you for requesting-- sorry for it taking me ages. I'm not really used to writing for Daryl.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝ Warning: twd, zombies, sprained ankle, grumpy Daryl, sad reader, not proofread, low-key rushed even if it's been half done for months

↝⎙ 8.30.23

You weren't sure how or when you got separated from Daryl on your little trip, but you did.

A herd of walkers came out of nowhere. Sure you mind wasn't really clear, but you should've heard them. Just like now, you couldn't wrap you head around why you didn't. Your thoughts were solemnly on why. So much so that you didn't hear the one coming up behind you.

As soon as you felt a grip on your arm, you swung around, expecting 2 things. A walker or Daryl. The snarling and nipping towards you had any relief or hope disappearing in the wind.

Grunting, you pushed it off of you, reaching to grip your knife. Your foot moved the wrong way and a jolt of pain went through it and up your leg.

As soon as you had the knife gripped comfortably, a twig snapped behind you and more snarling blended in.

Turning with the walker held by its shoulder, you quickly plunged the knife into its rotten skull, pushing the limp body into the one that was slowly moving towards you.

Quickly glancing down at your hurt foot, you put more weight onto the other one. Although the pain was excruciating, so would be getting eaten alive.

The walker swayed when the body came in contact, but continued as the body fell down onto the ground. You waited until it came to you instead of putting extra strain on the foot, and plunged the knife into its head. It fell with a thud, as you fell onto your ass, taking your shoe off to see your foot. It was already bruising, a slight hue and swelling was beginning around your ankle. The side foot was angled slightly down, as if you rolled your ankle. Straightening it, you silently cursed.

Hearing something walking up behind you, you quickly turned your head, gripped your knife. Your hand loosened when Daryl came stumbling over leaves and twigs. He acknowledged you, stopping for a second before continuing to walk towards you. He stood in front of you, looking at the two bodies in front of you and back to you. By now, you had put your shoe back on, hiding what was causing you so much pain.

"Wha're you doin'?"

"Sitting down."

He stared at you for a second or two, before flinging his crossbow over his should and putting a hand out. "C'mon. Don't have time for this."

It was getting dark and you were supposed to be back at Alexandria before nightfall. And here you were going to show up empty handed with a rolled ankle and frowns on your face. Well, it was normal for Daryl but they'd know as soon as you walked in with a sour expression that the run didn't go as planned. You were supposed to go out hunting and bring plenty back, to feed the hungry mouth of the old and children.

Preparing yourself, you tried not to physically let him know the pain that shot through your body when you landed.

The last thing you needed was him lecturing you about being more careful. He was already protective of you as is, and with him being extra grumpy, it wouldn't end well.

Arguments weren't not normal. When you two would argue about something, he'd just grunt (mostly when you make a good point) and walk off. When he had cooled down, he'd come back but he'd give you the silent treatment, but still give you attention at the same time. He holds grudges for a very, very long time. Maybe with you it's not as bad, but that's only because he cant stay mad at you forever.

"Keeping that from me was stupid."

"You weren't really in the best mood. You would've just went on and on, I don't really need your lecturing right now."

He grunting, pulled you closer to his body, his hand holding your arm over his shoulder as he helped you limp through the woods.

Hearing more rustling, Daryl stopped walking, turning in the direction the sound came from. Without a second thought, he leaned you against the nearest tree and grabbed his cross bow, aiming all within a few seconds.

The tree didn't seem to be a good choice when you went to lean more of your weight on it and a big piece of the bark fell off, making a loud sound in the quiet trees.

The arrow flew through the air and missed just slightly as the beautiful deer went galloping away from you.

"Damn it!" Daryl threw his hands up, not even looking back at you. He was probably going to say something he'd regret. It wasn't your fault, the tree was atleast 100 years old. Life was just being a bitch today.

Still not looking at you, he moved to grip your arm again, and continued to make your way back home.

It was silent most of the way. An awkward silence, if you will.

A little after what you guessed was 8, Daryl had stopped to fix up a little camp.

The cold nipped at your skin, making you shudder. Daryl saw, but didn't feel like acknowledge anything but his own thoughts.

You hand slipped into his, "I'm sor-"

"Forget it." He took his hand back, picking up a twig from the ground.

You stared at him.

Was he being for real? Choosing to bite your tongue, you simply stared at the fire.

After a moment, you braced yourself for the struggle to stand. "I gotta piss." Maybe that was TMI but you didn't care at this point. If he was going to be cold to you, you could be just as cold.

He grunted, fiddling with the twig in his hand.

Secretly rolling your eyes, you turned to limp your way behind a tree.

"Jesus-fuck!" Could it possibly get any worse? Was the world out to get you right now? It sure felt like it.

Making your way behind a big tree, you didn't see the hole in the ground, mostly because it was dark.

"Y/n?" Leaves crunched under Daryl's boots as he rushed to follow you. Hearing something fall and your curses had his heart drop, his feet led him right to you.

You sat just like you did earlier. You looked done at this point.

You were walking out of these woods with a broken leg if mother nature had anything to say in the matter.

"Be careful." He crouched, just looking at you. You looked back at him, tears burning behind your eyes. "Why're you bein' so clumsy?"

That was a stupid question. A loaded one at that.

You were being a little distracted by your own thoughts today, but he didn't have to be all rude and point it out. Alexandria has been in a bad spot and the pressure to bring food was laying on your chest like an anvil. You were going to come home empty handed. You couldn't stand the picture of disappoinment on the kids faces you'd be met with.

The tears finally fell.

Daryl saw them shine in the dark. His brows furrowed.

"Hey, don't cry."

Sucking in a deep breath, you looked up into the leaves. "You're not really in a good spot to tell me not to cry."

Maybe he was being a little hard on you.

Daryl reached forward, grabbing your hands to help you up. But you were stubborn. He'd argue with anyone that you were more stubborn than him.

You yanked your hands back, digging into the ground behind you and lifting up. When you lifted your body up enough, he wrapped his arms around your middle and lifted you up the rest of the way, ignoring your protests. After he stood you up, you two just stared at each other. It seemed the two of you have done more staring than talking all throughout this trip. There was this tension ever since you walked out of the gate. Maybe it was the fear of letting everyone down. Either way, you two were being too much and not enough at the same time.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." He rasped, his eyes softening.

If Merle were to see him now, he'd definitely call him a 'pussy'. Daryl will admit you've made him soft since you've been together. Or maybe he'd blame that on Judith and RJ. Either way, he had become soft and let you see parts of him he'd promised his teen self he'd never let anyone see. But things have changed. He truly would never purposely make you shed a tear.

"I know." You grumbled, emotions all out of wack. "Today has just been too much."

Before long, you were back at the camp, Daryl's arms around you and his pancho wrapped around you body, fighting against the cold of the night.

" 'm sorry"

Looking up at you, you couldn't help the playful smile making its way onto your face. "You've already apologized."

"Half-assed. Could've lost you today."

The world was in chaos - walkers roaming the streets, scarcity of resources, and constant fear. The stress was taking its toll on everyone's mental health, including Daryl's. It seemed like he was becoming more irritable and short-tempered with each passing day. But he'd still find time to let you know he loved you. When he'd walk out mid argument, he'd always come back, crawling into bed.

It would always be you two. Against everyone and everything. Always.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." And he meant it, every word. He always would.

"I'm sorry too. My head hasn't been clear these last few days."

He nodded in agreement and understanding.

It will be better tomorrow.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd imagine #twd imagines #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead x reader #🐿️#xoxo-sarah 🩷

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canisalbus · 21 days

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For fart (fan art) purposes, what weapons are Vasco trained in? I assume he's a skilled swordsman, but I'm wondering what types of ranged weaponry he knows, if any. As for the anxious tissue, Machete, I know he's sickly and frail, with staggering amounts of catholic guilt weighing him down but, hypothetically if he did train in any weapon, what could you see befitting him?

Hmm, you're right, Vasco is primarily a swordsman and like many nobles of his time, his sword of choice is the elegant and lightweight rapier. He was trained thoroughly and knows how to use it, but most of the time the sword serves as a fashion accessory and a status symbol, he isn't the type to get into duels left and right.

Vasco enjoys hunting. There's no reason why he couldn't use traditional bow and arrow but I think he would prefer a crossbow. Early firearms had already become common at the time and I could picture him with something like a wheellock or flintlock pistol or rifle. I'm sure there's people who could tell you a lot about 16th century guns but I don't know enough about them to give an in-depth answer myself.

Machete carries a hidden stiletto for self defence. He isn't completely useless with it and luckily you don't need to be terribly athletic to wield one, but his technique leaves a lot to be desired. And since he's chronically anemic any physical activity tends to get him winded and woozy pretty quickly. He's extremely risk-averse (others could say cowardly) and he does his best to not get into any dangerous situations to begin with, or leaving as soon as things start to escalate.

#answered #anonymous #Vaschete lore #Machete would probably be interested in fencing but he knows that ain't happening #so he just admires Vasco's sword rizz instead #guns are horrifically loud and smoky and he hates them #also now that I'm thinking about it he wouldn't be able to use ranged weapons because of his impaired vision

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writella · 8 months

Text

Trinkets; The Gifts of Gold He Gave You

Synopsis: A detailed record of all the special objects Daryl has found for you while hunting, riding, supply gathering, and living in the various places he has in the new world. These objects often lead to sweet moments of kindness, joy, and understanding between the two of you, deepening your connection. Although they are things others might not think much of— they were simply small gestures or trinkets after all— you believed these memories and mementos to be gifts of gold; they would shine in your mind forever onward.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, mutual pining, kisses, lots of love and ♡ sweetness ♡ (true self indulgence at its finest), but there are also descriptions of trauma, abuse, and self-hate. Though other than that, it’s nothing else except Daryl being an endearing friend and future loverboy to you. This travels across the plot and setting of season 6-8, but it might not be a perfect fit. Lastly, even though these can be read anthologically, I did write them in a storyline as if there was an order in which Daryl gives or does these things with the reader as their relationship grows, so some past trinkets might be mentioned in the next story, but it truly isn’t too big of a deal; this is one you can have fun with! ♡

Author’s Note: My dearest reader, this one took much longer than I intended, but I think it’s because I put so much of my silly heart-filled imagination into it— truly one of my favorites to write thus far. I’m just so happy to give it to you. Feel free to read these all at once, one at a time, or pick the ones that best fit who you are. with love, writella . ♡ ⋆ ☽

Trinkets moodboard & visualizer here!

Trinket No. 1: The Ribbon ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ⟡.•

A Bow from a Bowman

Daryl was out on a hunt one morning when he found it. It’s like he was compelled to pick it up, he did it without even thinking. It was nothing, honestly: kind of silly really, and flimsy, slightly covered by grass blades— it was dirty and discarded. But there was something about it, something tender… it reminded him of you, even though in some ways still, he hardly knew you at all.

It had been over a month since Daryl came back home to Alexandria; just a month since you entered what was supposed to be your new home. But also a week or so long journey it had been to unexpectedly find you and bring you back.

He remembered it well: you were covered in dirt, tired and hungry, running for your life from the past group you were with. He was going to let you go and mind his business— you looked scared of him anyway when you crashed into him. But most importantly, he had just lost his crossbow, his bike, and maybe even a little bit of his dignity to Dwight who stole them. He didn’t feel like getting tricked again, especially since it takes a lot to trick him; he wasn’t letting that happen again. Especially not the day after. And most especially not for a seemingly young and innocent-looking girl like Dwight’s wife, Sherry or that kid they were with, Tina.

But then, he heard the yelling, the hollering, the men– they wanted you, and none of it was for the right reasons. Very wrong and scary reasons they were indeed, ones he would soon come to understand were things you’d never want to live out or discuss again. He understood that feeling, so he stayed. He hid behind a tree. He decided to help again. Who knows of your innocence, but what was definitely true was that you were a lost and lonely girl in the woods. He knew a thing or two about those unfortunately, those stories ended badly.

Sad enough, the hiding and helping— or attempting to— led him to become a prisoner with you and your ‘group.’ He barely got scraps of food, and every night was just another day of seeing your tears, your face in a permanent state of desolation and misery; staying ever silent even when you were yelled at— even when you were forced to do things you didn’t want to do. You looked scared and small.

It was only when you all reached a hospital, one you burned to the ground just to get away from them, that Daryl saw the fight in you. You didn’t even ask for his help and he tried to save you, but in the end, you saved him. A silent soldier, you were. He returned the favor with the least he could do: he took you home.

And now there you both were. You sat by Rick’s fireplace. No one was home yet, and you had just put Judith down for the night. Daryl found you there on the floor with a book. He quietly sat near you. All you two said was hello.

And this was normal, actually– the being around each other, showing up unannounced, sitting beside each other– talking or not– or you, trying to help him with whatever work he was up to. He tried to fight it at first, but it became a regular thing. It’s what helped Daryl get to know you, and you to him.

You were equally as fierce as the fire you created not long ago, but just as gentle. Just as desiring to smile and create friendships. He knew that now. And he— he was just as rock solid and straightforward as the crossbow he once carried, but just delicate. Just as easily hurt and as quick to hide, yet so deeply desiring of loyalty and acceptance. You know that now too.

It’s still so soon, but you admired him, so deeply. You wanted to learn from him. You thought he was strong, and you wanted to be strong. All that anguish and pain and he came out a fighter, a leader.

Little did you know that is exactly what he thought of you. He went from seeing you cry yourself to sleep every night to becoming the kind and generous friend you were to almost everyone you met. Always offering to care for Judith, or allowing Carl to come to you to talk, or learning about guns and shooting with Rosita. And of course finding a way to go on supply runs, or learn to hunt, or fight walkers with Daryl as much as you could. As always, he pretended not to care that much, but he did. He couldn’t help it. He values his independence, but it was nice that there was someone who wanted to be around him so much. And he admired you for his own reasons as well: You’re someone who fills others up with lightness when such dark things have happened. He felt like that every time you two we’re together. He wanted to learn from you too.

As he sat there, thinking, he wondered if maybe that’s why he thought of you when he saw it. Maybe it was the brightness and softness of it, despite finding it on the ground, despite it being dirty. He cleaned it up, and it still shined, that’s like you but… he was still unsure. Maybe it truly was nothing, maybe it was stupid.

He looked to his side, watching your figure for a moment as he decided what to do. You were on your stomach, laying on the small rug that sat in front of the fire. You were continuing the chapter you were on, paying little attention to him. He only said ‘hey,’ after all. And you did wave back, you asked him how his day was, but all he gave you was a typical response, ‘fine,’ he had said. You thought maybe this visit wasn’t about talking so you left it. And all of this was typical anyway, for Daryl to come by Rick’s, or for you two to sit in peaceful silence, but then you started to see him fidget in his spot in your periphery, like he couldn’t decide how he wanted to sit, hands adjusting his jeans, moving things in his pocket.

“Do you wanna go to the porch?” You thought maybe he was reaching for a smoke. “I can put on the baby monitor…” He just shook his head at the suggestion.

You decide to move to the spot next to him, leaning your back against the wall. “Did something happen today?” Your voice was soft as you tilt your head, trying to reach his eyes.

“No,” he shook his head again, he was facing forward. “It’s just…”

“What?” You asked calmly.

He found it hard to speak, “Just- just brought something.” He reached into his pocket one last time, his hand in a fist as it made its way closer between the two of you until he started to release his fingers from his palm slowly.

It was a ribbon. A pearly light pink one. Just scattered in his hand. “It’s stupid,” he grumbled quietly, trying to shove it back down his pocket, but you stop him.

“Wait,” your hands gently cupping the other side of his and then you pick it up, letting him go. You wrap the ribbon around your finger and you tie it into a bow, examining it in your palm now. “This is for me?” Soft disbelief enchanted your voice. You made sure not to sound too excited or too surprised. You didn’t want to scare him, especially since he replied with:

“It's nothin’.” He was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“It's so nice,” your voice continued in its understated tone despite your smile becoming uncontainable. You couldn’t help the way your lips were curling upward, it was even hurting your cheekbones to try to make your teeth shine through a little less— Daryl Dixon just gave you a gift. And it was a little pink thing at that. Perhaps miracles are real. “It's perfect,” you say, “I can wear it in my hair.”

“It's stupid.” He repeated, brushing you off, but you saw right through him. Daryl doesn’t do anything for no reason at all.

“It's not.” Your words are so kind as your interject, “You know, sometimes it's the smallest things that mean everything. They become our favorite things even.” Your lips pressed together, forming another smile as he meets your gaze, “Like your vest that needs to be patched up.”

“It's fine,” he almost sounded defensive. It made you laugh.

As messed up as it is, it truly was fine. It was his and he loved it; that made it so. And he didn’t only have the vest, he also had his cut-up button-downs, and those ties he laced on the bottom of his jeans— you knew those were probably because the pants available didn’t always fit all the time, but nonetheless— these were all things that made him and his clothing unique from the others. Even in the apocalypse, Daryl was one of the few that maintained a personal style. You couldn’t help but love it. He could, and often always was, the guy covered all in dirt and grim and blood but he still had something about his look that was simply just him.

You missed that. Having those personal touches, and now here Daryl was with this. The simplest thing, but he brought it for you. It was your special piece, your special something. It truly was perfect.

“C’mere,” Daryl gestured, taking the ribbon from your hand and moving your shoulders so your back faced him. He undid the bow and cuffed your hair, he actually almost yanked your head with the way he gathered the ponytail, honestly– he forgets his strength, but you said nothing. Only giggling slightly, but you were mostly quiet. You tried to keep it down, afraid he might stop if he thought you were making fun of him. You wanted to reel at the closeness for as long as you could. You couldn’t believe the fact that he was doing something so domestic— you almost couldn’t breathe. He tried to detangle some pieces with his fingers and then he tilted his head to the side to leave some shorter pieces out at the front. He didn’t know what he was doing and he probably was doing it badly, but he tried his best to be delicate. He’s never touched you like this before. Every time his fingers accidentally brushed against your ear or your neck he relearned just how soft you are. And every feeling of his skin almost made you shiver; like when someone whispers in your ear, it always feels so sensitive, traveling down until you feel it everywhere. His touches felt like that. You always end up feeling his everywhere. He’s entrancing, filling you with hearts and stars.

Finally, he ties the ribbon into a bow right at the top of the ponytail he created. He’s done. He lets go. They shapes and colors fade. Everything is cold again.

But to him, everything looked warm and vibrant. Looking at you was a sight so sweet and so gentle among all this dark wreckage of the world— it was precisely how he saw you: the way the ribbon now laced around your hair looked like an angelic embrace.

You turn to him, “Thank you, Daryl.” Your smile is so sincere, so lovely, there might as well be a halo and hearts invisibly drawn all around you.

A moment passes as you continue to look at each other and your heart jumps. He’s still looking directly at you. There are moments that he looks away and you can’t help it, the bashfulness creeps up on you two, but he’s giving you all his attention; it feels great. You decide to take the chance, you can't help yourself, you hug him, you have to. It has been so long since someone gave you something. So long since someone thought of you so specifically and intimately.

He’s caught off guard, his hands don’t wrap around you until a few seconds later, but when they do, they are sure, and tight, more sure of it than you surprisingly.

You breathe him in, giggling again, “I’m surprised you smell this good.”

“Fuck you.” It makes you laugh just a bit louder, it’s the nicest ‘fuck you,’ you’ve ever heard. Its tone has a hint of sincerity in tandem with humor in just the same way you delivered your line. He shakes his head, “You’re silly.”

He lets you go and you turn away, but it’s only just a little. He watches how the ribbon lays right where he put it again, seeing the side of your face light up with your rosy smile as you sway your head. You’re trying to not make it obvious that you want to feel the wag of the bow and your hair back there so you do it slowly, it just feels so cool and so pretty. You liked it so much. You didn’t even know what it looked like yet, but it already made you feel more like yourself. Like a part of you that had left before this world began— it fit well like a missing piece finally snapping into place. It was your unique touch and he found it for you. He did it for you. Just for you.

For me, you repeated it in your mind, he found it just for me.

Trinket No. 2: The Lesson ō͡≡o˞̶ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Turnpikes, Gunshots, and Dreams

You had asked and asked for weeks with no let up. It made you start getting creative with your pleas: “You know, Daryl, we really should be teaching each other our skills,” you had insisted, sarcasm lining your voice. No one else in the group knew how to ride yet they were doing just fine, but you were incessant, “You never know what kind of situation we’ll be in where we might need it… I could die,” your hands raise as your voice does, “and your bike could be my only escape but I wouldn’t even know how to ride it!”

He would always just stare at you blankly, ignoring you, especially when you got dramatic like this right before you two were leaving. “Get on or stay,” he would say, “go help Rosita or somethin’.”

You’d grit your teeth and get on regardless.

But then one day, one lucky, lucky day for you— it was your earnest approach, and your silly smile, and sun-filled eyes that got the best of him as they looked up to meet his darker ones. “Please,” you said, stretching out the word, it was just as cheesy as your smile. He looked back at you from his front seat as you continued, “I just want to feel capable and- free… I don’t know,” but you did, you meant it and felt it from deep inside you. “To know I have the option I wanted to… I… I didn’t really have those before.”

He was still for a moment and then he nodded, restarting the ignition. You guessed that was another no until you started to ride past the walkers that lined the outer gate. “An hour,” he said, his eyes forward as the trees became a blur to both of you, “then we gotta get work done.” You wrapped your arms around him tightly, you only used to cup his waist or hold his shoulders, but you felt fearless today, head leaning against his back and neck, arms hugging around his torso. He finally said yes.

As time went by, you had gotten comfortable with completing your drills. You learned the controls, how to shift gears, how to waddle and power walk with the bike, operate the clutch, throttle, and lift your feet up, riding on a straight path all by yourself. Turns were still hard though, and the fact that Daryl always insisted you think about the worst-case scenario wasn’t the greatest either. He’d look you dead in the eye, his voice clear and unrestrained from his usual grovels as he said, “If a herd is comin’, or people are shooting, or if there’s something tryin’ to crash into you, you need to think about how you’re going down. Decide on what won’t fuck you up completely, then do it. ” He always got way too close to your face without realizing it in those moments, his finger almost crashing into your nose as he vigorously pointed to get the idea across.

“If something goes down, I’m not arguing,” you say. “You'll be in front.” You meant it, your voice was quiet, you understood.

But really, you didn’t: “If something go down, either of us should be able to do it.” He paused to make sure you got it this time, “That's the point.”

As if you didn’t already sense it, this was the first time you absolutely understood that Daryl was serious when he decided to do anything. Full commitment. Start to finish. You said you wanted to learn, that you wanted to be capable, then that’s exactly what he was going to teach you. You would take it seriously too.

Soon enough, Daryl allowed you to ride out of the gates of Alexandria first instead of switching off after you got a few miles out. You were getting better. So much so that today would be a different day, he explained. Daryl wanted you to ride to the Hilltop. This would be the longest distance you’ve ever rode. A whole 23 miles. But before you guys got there he would steer you in the direction of a turnpike: he wanted to practice speed, and most crucially for you, right and left turning.

His weapons and guns were strapped to his lower body, some on his thigh holster, and a machine gun over his back, all just in case, and his hold on your waist was fixed as you rode. It made you feel like a child and such a little teenager all in one with how excited you would get. Not only were you becoming skilled at riding a whole fucking motorcycle, but you were the one he was holding onto this time and it was the longest amount of time he was holding you at that.

As you reached the turnpike, he guided you around the semi-circular road. Continuing on, you saw a few walkers in the distance. He told you to speed up, there was enough space on the road and there were only four of them, they were far away anyway.

You looked back at your surroundings, other than those four, the road was pretty clear other than some broken down, discarded cars. This accidentally became a lesson on tight turns and swerving too.

Some of your turns were abrupt as you tried to go around the cars, it made you nervous. You knew it was okay not to be perfect, but it was still a little stressful to make mistakes when a master was watching behind you.

“Relax,” he’d tell you, sometimes putting his hands over yours on the handles and helping you out. “You got it.”

You went on and as the walkers approached closer, an idea arose. It was probably irresponsible, but you joked anyway, “Daryl,” you whisper-shouted with fake suspense, getting his attention. “We’re on a mission. Got to take those guys out before they get to Rick!”

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head. He leaned in closer as you leaned forward, gaining speed. One arm wrapped around your hips in totality, hand placed firmly there as the other reached for his gun, extending his arm out as you two got closer to the walkers. You two turned to face them as Daryl pulled the trigger: one shot each, straight in the head, “Got ‘em.”

You gasp, your laughter sounding so wild and fun and unrestrained in a way it hasn’t been heard by either of you before. “Is it bad if I say I hope we find another one?!”

“No, that was fun,” he agrees understatedly, trying not to fully give in. You couldn’t even see his face, yet he was trying to hide a smile.

And you were too. It was all too much honestly. You were balancing riding and having Daryl right behind you, holding onto you, trusting you to do something he’s never let anyone else do before; and you just proved you both could probably kill it in a high stakes situation. Well, maybe not, this was very, very low stakes, but still, it made you believe. You decided to ride the high, quite literally as you kept going, shouting back: “Imagine us in battle?”

Oh, wait— your grin fades slightly, you immediately regretted it after you said it. The point of this life was to try to find a way to live, not always fighting to survive. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

The silence makes you feel like an idiot until Daryl speaks up, both hands now on your hips, thumbs pressing into your back, “If we were in battle,” he almost whispers into your ear, “we’d be their worst fuckin’ nightmare.”

You feel your smile practically reaching your ears. “We’re a team,” you say, the humor coming back to your face now, the shine in your teeth reflecting the sun as it always does. “A dream team.”

A dream… Maybe. You definitely were at least, but that is a thought he doesn’t let come to the forefront. He let it go. But it was true… something about you felt unreal to him. The way you wanted to be around him this much, so interested in the things he does; he still didn’t get it, it almost felt unbelievable. He wondered when it was going to stop. When he would wake up. He didn’t want to wake up. The thought grows, he can’t avoid it now: you are a dream. One he didn’t even know he wanted.

Trinket No. 3: Lucky Charms ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Flying Away With You

You gasp excitedly, “The Eiffel Tower!” You hold the bottom up to the light as he still holds the top. “Nice,” you say with bright eyes, “I found the Statue of Liberty in the mom’s jewelry box and a few others that weren’t on her charm bracelet.” You showed him the mother’s sterling silver and he showed you the daughter’s that he found. “I guess they were traveling family… or wanted to be.” You feel a heaviness behind your eyes after you say it.

You loved collecting these charms, but sometimes there was a sadness to it. Like you were collecting other people's tokens, little pieces of their personalities and their stories, keeping it as your own. It almost felt invasive. But it was something that you and Daryl did together. You liked that. Another thing that made you feel close to him… Maybe this was like keeping their memory alive? You may not have known them or know what happened to them, but you were giving something that they loved new life. The charms did make you happy, after all. Especially because it was Daryl that got you into it. But it was also you who got Daryl into it too.

You both can recall the first day it all started: He found it incredulous that you cared more about a little piece of jewelry you saw in the dirt rather than the bigger thing that was right by it: the deer Daryl just shot, the one that you two had been tracking for what felt like hours.

His face twisted up to you as he collected his bolt from the body, “We just caught a deer, and you’re lookin’ at that?”

“We just caught a deer for the first time in months and this was right by them… it’s literally good luck!” You held the gold sun charm to the actual light source it was designed after, “Look at us… Lucky charm, dream team, remember?” Your smile was just so wide after you said it, he let his slight irritation go. It was easy actually, he was always taken aback by that smile. It still wasn’t that long ago when he thought you weren’t the type to do so, like him most of the time. He had only seen you sad, but now, I’m Alexandria, you just glowed. Eyes and an essence as bright as the sun, and that smile, all teeth and just as pearly as the moon… The charm was perfect for you and it needed its match. Maybe a star too. He would find it.

He still remembers where he found those. He came across a silver crescent moon necklace discarded on the floor of a girl’s bedroom. It was simplistic, like one or those expensive necklaces that shouldn’t even be that expensive because of how small it was, but it was a perfect charm size, and it shined, there were no scratches. In the other girl’s room in the house, probably the younger sister, there was a charm bracelet on the desk. It was kind of childish and clunky, like one you could get in those supermarket toy vending machines. He took the first charm he touched and removed the clasp from it for your moon. It was hard to do it with his fingers on something so small and dainty but after a few tries, he managed.

As for the star, he found it on a walker in the woods. It was a little girl, it almost made him feel bad to do it because he knew you’d feel bad about it, but her and what looked like her mom and dad went straight for the two rabbits he just caught, ripping their skin, eating them. He shot them all in the head. The thud of their bodies to the ground only seconds apart. Oh well, were his thoughts, their fault for messing with his catch. After that is when he noticed the gold charm bracelet on the kid’s wrist. It was different from the one he saw last time in that other girl’s room, it wasn’t a fake toy, it was more refined. Maybe they were a well-off family.

There was a star was at the center. It’s all he wanted, but he thought you might want to see the others she had too— they were all nature themed, he kind of liked it— so he tried to take the bracelet off but it wasn’t working. The thing fit her wrist perfectly and the bracelet clasp was stuck so, in typical Daryl fashion… he just chopped the girl's hand off.

Kind of gross, and he would definitely have to keep the red off of everything now, but the star charm was gold, it would match the sun charm and the moon would stand out at the center, he assumed. He thought it could look nice… and beggars can’t be choosers in the apocalypse anyway. After he took the bracelet he discarded of the hand, tossing it to the ground like it was nothing. (He’d leave that part out if you asked for the story later). Now that he had the bracelet, you would also have a gold owl, a bunny, a bird, and if it couldn’t get any better, there was a deer charm too. That’s what was most important about the account anyway.

That night, Daryl crawled into your bedroom from the window while you were asleep. He placed the star and moon on top of your journal that was on your desk, and after that, he left. That was it. He just wanted to surprise you. He’d give you the rest later. You only realized he did it and how he did it when you closed your window that was slightly left open the next day. There were scuff marks on the window sill. They were from his shoes.

After that it became a game; a little side quest. Like how people would count red versus blue cars or shout ‘punch buggy,’ when they are out with their family. An activity that took you out of your boredom, or really, for you in the apocalypse, it was an activity that made you feel oddly sane again, since you always dealt with the insane everyday anyway.

That was what today was about. At least on the down low; at least after you found anything of value for the community; at least to you two. You guys had found what seemed to be a wealthy neighborhood a while ago, when you passed that turnpike. The houses there were so big there, but all you had was his bike at the time, nowhere to put supplies and you were expected at the Hilltop, you couldn’t stay and look around.

It had been a little while after that and you had a plan now, a few Alexandrians backing you up with cars. You two finished your portion of houses to sweep and now you were waiting on the others, sitting in one of the house porches. That’s why you both were showing each other your finds from this place and the others.

You continued to hold the Eiffel Tower charm in your hand, “Maybe we should go to Paris…” Your voice was wistfully, then a quietness lingered in the air, it made you laugh awkwardly, releasing the tension. Your suggestion was one of those silly things you say where you mean it, but you pretend it’s just a joke, knowing it won’t have any outcome. “All of us, I mean,” you do mean it, but at the same time you we’re just talking about him right now. “That would be nice.”

“What would I do in Paris?” He asks it while he fixes his weapons, you’re sitting back, looking at the trees. He thought it was a ridiculous idea. He’s never been anywhere. He hadn’t even been to Virginia or D.C. before this and there’s no way he could go anywhere else now.

“Well I guess we’re never going to know unless we find out… you can eat!” You laugh, “You do like eating.”

He snorts, “Who knows if there’s food left there.”

Pessimist. “Again— we’re never going to know unless we find out.”

“Have fun tryin’ to become a pilot,” his drawl comes out strong on that last word. “Or a plane.”

“I guess that’s the next charm we need to find, an airplane or a captain’s hat. I am a pilot… or I can pretend to be.” There’s that smile again, “I can do anything.”

“Bet you could.” He meant it.

You nod, your next words making you laugh at yourself, “I’m Barbie.”

“Better,” he mutters. You can barely hear it. You don’t know if it was real so you say nothing until—

“We’re going to travel the world some day, Daryl.” You say it so surely, breaking the moment of silence, “We’ll find a way.” As long as we’re together. As long as you want me.

That’s all you wanted, truly. Even if this world really couldn’t take you to Paris, or New York, or anywhere out of Virginia. All you wanted was him. All you wished and hoped for is that he wanted you… but did he? You still weren’t sure.

Trinket No. 4: The Flower and the Photograph 𓇢𓆸

Back Pocket Memory

You two were almost near Alexandria, only a few miles left to drive. “Do you think we can just sit down over there before heading back?”

Daryl continued driving, “Dangerous to leave a good van with supplies just put.”

You pointed to the clearing you were referring to ahead. The trees were sparse in that area, it might have been a meadow, but you didn’t know the difference. There was a little pond near the center. “Can we just drive the car a little bit closer? Just for a few minutes?” You look up at him, your eyes doing that little sunshine thing as it always does, “I just want to sit in the grass,” you say, putting your hand out the window, feeling the wind through your fingers, “the sky feels so nice today.”

He huffs, but does as you ask. “Get out,” he says, gesturing to you to walk over to the area you pointed at. “Pick your spot.” You run over and he follows. You have this wonder about you, it was almost childlike, but not childish, more— sweet, innocent perhaps.

You jump down to the ground and cross your legs on the grass, looking out at the pond. Daryl parks the car a little behind you and comes out to sit on the hood. His legs spread, knees almost to his chest, his elbows lay on there, arms extended.

You look at him, “You’re really not going to sit down?”

“If someone comes up behind us and steals our shit then that’s gonna be your fault.”

Fair. You gesture at him to move over and you sit to his side on top of the car.

As you settle, you close your eyes and you raise your face to the sky. Feeling the warmth of the sun on your closed eyelids. There was a majestic kind of wind that blew in the air today. It made everything look effortless, especially Daryl.

His ever-so disheveled hair had pieces flying on both sides, brushing some parts out of his face, and pushing others in. As always, it was just enough that they didn’t completely cover his eyes. How does that always happen? Thinking about it makes you giggle lightly as you look at him.

“What?” He asks, becoming a little self conscious.

You shake your head, your eyes looking at him kindly, hoping to ease his nerves. “You just look nice.” Your voice was silvery and sweet as you said it.

You get up and skip toward the pond, picking a flower and coming back to him. You sit down and try to put the tiniest white flower behind his ear.

“What’re you doin’?” He tries to swat it away, playfully hitting your other hand that tries to hold him in place and he takes the flower from your other hand. He successfully places it behind your ear instead. “Better,” he says.

As he looks at you, he notices light pieces of your hair frizzing up at the top from the wind, other pieces at the bottom still moving around slightly. It didn’t look bad, to him, your hair looks more like that invisible halo he sees when you’re around, and with that flower in your hair, you look like a true angel or maybe even a fairy with all the greenery surrounding you. You’re just lovely.

You give him a closed smile, your head falling to your knees. “Pretty day,” you sigh contentedly.

Pretty girl.

Handsome man.

Then a thought comes. Your smile turning to a grin.

“What?” He asks sharply. He knows the look you get when you’re up to something at this point.

You grab your backpack from your side, slowly bringing out the polaroid camera you found earlier today.

“No,” he pushes the side of your face, already detesting the idea.

“Daryl,” you whine.

He says it straight this time, “No.”

“But…” your eyes trail his face for a moment before continuing, “you just look… I don’t know. It’s like I said, you just look so- nice.” There’s other words you could use, but you don’t, not yet. “I just think it would be nice to have a nice picture. All we take pictures of is the houses and work. It’s boring and a waste.” You pause, “Daryl… Please?”

He rolls his eyes, grumbling, “You first.”

He’s glad no one was around when these moments happened. Someone might think you had him completely whipped. His brother definitely would think so if he was still around. Daryl was almost embarrassed of himself because of it. But you don’t ask for much. Other than the bike thing, you really didn’t. You trusted him and you were patient. You went along with his plans and you could sit for long car rides and periods of time in quietness if that’s what he wanted. You never pushed him to tell you his story. He only knew a part of yours circumstantially and he didn’t push you for more details after he brought you home, so you did the same. He could feel you wanted to ask more questions, but he also saw you stop yourself, move on, you were creative with your conversation topics: you asked him about what the best thing he hunted was, or what his favorite things were about your friends. You were so gentle with him. Maybe you could get him to do almost anything you wanted without you even knowing, but it was worth it for someone like you.

You look down shyly, “I’m not good at pictures,” you admit.

“You’ll look fine.” He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. You’re so alike, more than you know.

He tilted your jaw with his thumb. It was too quick for you to melt into it but the feeling lingered, it made you buzz with excitement and it was easy to smile after that. He looked through the viewfinder, seeing you do that pretty sunny smile, matching the yellow bud of the white flower. He clicked the button. Beautiful.

You snatch the camera instantly, “Your turn!” You were too eager but you didn’t care.

You take the flower from your hair and bring it toward him. He sucks his teeth, saying your name as he does so, “No!”

“Yes, Daryl!” You push it over his ear, but not before he pushes you knee, just to do it. He didn’t even know why he was fighting, he knew he was letting you have your way right now. “Look,” you sound like a school teacher, “very nice.”

You even out some of the frizzy parts at the top of his head, the light wind was still blowing through it, it was futile so you left it, he looked great anyway. A perfectly imperfect mess.

He crossed his arms over his knees and looked into your eyes. You held the camera to your face and snapped the shot. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him for a moment longer. If anyone else was here that could see those all to familiar hearts and stars around you and in your eyes, it was so hard to hide. “I’m keeping this,” you said, placing the polaroid delicately in your back pocket. He said nothing, he wasn’t going yo let you know he cared about a dumb picture. “Okay, thank you for indulging me,” you start, taking the flower from his ear, “let’s go home.”

Later that night, past one am, he came through your window again. But this time you saw. Your head was almost covered by the blankets, your eyes slightly open. He didn’t even look in your direction. Maybe he wanted to be quick.

You saw him go into your bookbag. It was hanging on your desk chair. He took the picture out. He wanted it. He wanted your picture. The one that matched yours of him. Maybe this was something. Maybe he did want you.

You closed your eyes quickly when he started to turn around, then watched as quietly as you could as he neared the window, starting to climb out but not before he placed the polaroid in his back pocket, just like you did. Now you both had a piece of each other, forever.

Trinket No. 5: The Music Player and the Wish on an Eyelash ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ♬♪

Never Fade Away

It’s official, in all the ways it possibly could be: Alexandria was truly your home. More time has passed: you live in a house, you have a job, you have family— it’s your friends. In some ways things are better than they have ever been… yet you still think about the night and the dark just as much as you used to. You tried to hide it, you wanted to be grateful and you were. But the things that used to happen to you, and the people that hurt you… they still lingered like ghosts when night came.

In the closed and guarded walls of your community, you hoped night could be a time and place that was peaceful. But thoughts of an attack, thoughts of losing your first real home, it left you apprehensive and paranoid of what could happen in your vulnerable state. And when you close your eyes, sometimes the past visits your dreams. It all felt inescapable.

It makes you so fearful that despite keeping your window’s curtain open, a battery-powered lantern resides practically glued to your nightstand— always on when the sun goes down. You knew it was a waste of a resource, but at least you kept it on low, at least when you woke up in the middle of the night, closer to morning really, you remembered to turn it off— the sun making its way back around soothed your nerves; it was always that initial getting-to-sleep part that made you need it anyway.

And of course, you’ve tried to calm yourself down at night using different methods to see what stuck: You do read— your neighbors were always kind enough to lend whatever books were in their houses— and you did daydream— letting your mind wander to happier, more wondrous places when you wanted to escape— and it did help sometimes, but on other nights, it wasn’t enough.

You miss watching tv in bed. There was something about the buzz of the box, and the voices of humor and romance and relatability that miraculously took you away, and helped you stop thinking, even allowed you to drift to sleep… it was a luxury you didn’t have anymore, and not only did you not have that luxury, you also had an overabundance of dead or deadly issues to worry about. It all haunted you.

You sat with your back against the headboard of the bed. You’ve yet to put on any night clothes. You had already read the next chapter of your book, and you would have read another, and possibly another after that, but tonight you knew it would have just kept you awake as something to do instead of worrying about sleep. You were tired though. That’s why you stopped, but you also weren’t ready for trying to catch sleep that wouldn’t come.

Part of you hoped Daryl would stop by, but he doesn’t always, and he probably won’t tonight. Some nights he’s out until the next day or the next week, who knows how far he went this time, you didn’t go with him and he left too quickly to ask. It had been a few days since you saw him last.

When he was here though, he did start to make it a habit of stopping by to see you, especially when it was time for Alexandrians to settle into their homes for the night. He stopped being so quiet through the window and only dropping things off. He would start coming through the door. It was just a light chat for a couple of minutes at first, then there were the times when he stayed an hour or two. He always sat on your floor, by the window, or by the door. You never understood why until you insisted he sit in your chair by the closet. It was only until a few more visits later you realized the chair's light color becoming just a bit visibly darker. It was soot and hard work and the air, he worked outside all day and usually visited before he called it a night. You made sure not to mention it, you just cleaned it yourself. No need for him to feel embarrassed.

Besides, you didn't mind, anytime he walked through your door or jumped in from your window, that was his chair, at least that’s what you called it in your head. You liked that. You liked that after he brought you home he didn’t move on and let you be. In his defense, you didn’t let him be either, but he could have always distanced himself if he wanted to, told you no, but he didn’t.

You two have gotten so close quite quickly. You both felt it and you didn’t know why, but at the same time, you did. It was something left unspoken, even in your mind, always on the side toward the back of your brain. That part knew you could fall in love with him, but why admit it to yourself if the other person might not feel the same? You were still feeling that way. Despite all the moments you’ve shared thus far. His silent nature was endearing at times, but it could also be a very confusing gripe of yours. There were moments when you knew exactly where his mind was, but there were other times when you simply did not. Especially when it came to you. Daryl always gave you just enough, and maybe tonight, it would be nothing at all.

At least that’s where your thoughts resided until you heard the creak of your door slowly pushing inward.

Daryl’s hand holds the doorknob, meeting your eyes as he steps in further. Your window casting just enough light on his face.

“Hi,” you meant to be clever, ask him if he knew how to knock, but only wistful, subdued surprise is all that came out in your one-word greeting.

“Hey,” he replied, it almost seemed like he was surprised too, you couldn’t tell it from his voice but from the way he cut the word short. “Didn’t know if you were awake.”

You laugh somberly, “You didn’t?”

“Didn’t see you in the window.”

His voice is low, your house is quiet, and people are asleep in the other rooms. You match his tone with your own quietness, “Right,” you say. The window did hit the bed end, not the top. But he knew you were a late sleeper. He even came and sat with you for longer the night before he left because you had told him about it— he knew, he had to, but you didn’t question it.

“Um,” he’s looking down, “Was just gonna leave somethin’.”

He starts to walk to your nightstand but you stop him, your hand reaching out, not touching him, but it’s just enough to pull him to your gaze. “You’re gonna leave without showing me?”

Daryl positions himself toward you and you sit up. Gingerly, he takes something small out of his front pocket, it was covered in one of his bandanas. He looks at it for a moment, almost unsure before placing it on the bed, right in front of your lap.

It was an MP3 player. One of those slim rectangular ones with a digital rectangular screen to match and a big circular button with the controls covering the bottom half. There were some small scratches in the screen corners and some dent marks in the back. The arrow buttons were starting to fade too, but he handed you some headphones out of his back pocket as you continued to examine it, it must have worked.

You look up at him, eyes wide, shining just a bit in the dark just like the little silver miracle that was in your hands. You remembered having one of these, the thought made your lips curl, a light open-mouthed smile forming as the nostalgia set in.

You move closer to the edge of the bed, the sky illuminating you more in your semi-darkened room. You place your hand on the other end of your bed, “Come,” you say as your tap the spot. He’s hesitant before he finally accepts the invitation, sitting down. You would have insisted anyway if he didn’t.

You flip the switch on the side then and the music starts instantly in your right ear where you set one of the earbuds in. You tried to put the left on him, but he shook his hand, “You listen.” You let him be for now, you were too excited to see what the previous owner was into.

The songs are scattered from different decades, but what you notice the most of as you skip through were various 90s and 2000s rock, pop-punk, pop, and the like. There was Nirvana, but also Fiona Apple to Blondie, and even Elvis. It was a little all over the place, really. This definitely had to be a teen’s in the early or late aughts. You thought maybe Carl would like this. There was even some stuff that you were sure had to have come out in 2010, right before the apocalypse began… Another kid who wouldn’t get to spend the rest of their teens, or young adulthood, or adult life like they were supposed to, like you were supposed to.

Having these thoughts while Aerosmith’s Fly Away From Here played was not helping, especially since it made you think of your lost family, and those from your found family that were gone now too, so you decided to skip, but the button seemed to fidget. You tried again, then again, even touching the screen. You accidentally made the shuffle icon come onto the bottom corner.

“Don’t like Aerosmith?” Daryl read it on the screen, but he also recalled the melody, even from just the soft buzz produced by the headphones, the volume was accidentally turned all the way up, you set it down.

You give him a light smile, “Aerosmith’s fine. Just have to be a little more careful with this, I guess.”

You continue to press forward to see what else is there until you shriek, color coming back to your face as you shake your head at the memory emerging as you listen. “Oh my god, my sibling used to love this song when we were younger.” It was Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend that was playing. “We used to put on the radio or look up the music videos on the tv and dance. They loved doing that…” Your voice was soft, both sweet yet desolate, “I knew all the popular songs and all their favorite songs whether I liked it or not.” You giggle, “I can lie this one is fun.”

You knew Daryl would probably scoff, but you lightly place the left earbud near his ear for a few seconds so he can hear what you’re talking about.

“Definitely a chick’s.”

“‘Chick’?” It was funny, and you did laugh, but you still decide to protest, “It’s just one song and…I don’t know, I think it’s a pretty eclectic mix of artists…” You continue to press forward as you ask, “Were there kids? Or- did there used to be?”

“Based on the rooms.” He nods, “Boy and a girl.”

“Hm,” you say curiously, flipping through the songs: the next one that played was by Linkin Park, then Alanis Morisette… you wondered if the kids shared it or shared interests. Suddenly, the player starts Lit’s My Own Worst Enemy. Your eyes are starlit as you gasp, “Oh, this one is so you.”

This time you fully push the headphone into his left ear, turning the volume all the way up as the first verse plays, his face is fixed, “This ain’t me.” There is silence as the music continues and he scorns, “You think I used to just get drunk all the time?”

“Daryl,” your laugh is light, “no.” It was a ridiculous thought and he should know it, but nonetheless, you console him, “Of course not.” Your hand reaches forward onto the bed, nearing where his own resided, but not touching. It saddened you to see Daryl always react like this to small things. He was never judgmental, but he was always so quick to believe others would judge him. “Maybe not that part,” you smile, slightly mischievous, “but- okay, this-” you sing-speak along lightly, remembering to stay quiet, “it’s no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy, cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me- that's you! That's literally you.”

He shakes his head, ‘Whatever,’ the gesture says with his grunt.

“No, you’re actually a little bit self-deprecating, I think. At least internally.” You continue, “Oh, and this part— I didn't mean to call you that- you see?” You say, humor still in your smile, “That part is you.”

Daryl gives you another small grunt indicating ‘no’ as he shakes his head again. “If I say something to someone, then I mean it. Wouldn’t say it if I don’t.”

“Well, you also mean a lot of what you don’t say,” your eyes trail to the side. You knew that didn’t make sense, but it did to you. There was a part of you that was still in denial of your feelings or if there was a possibility he had any for you either. You’d never see him talk or treat anyone in a more than friendly way– or whatever Daryl’s version of friendly was. You wanted to protect yourself by not admitting you adored him, even to yourself, but really, you knew. And there was the way he kept giving you these things, these little moments: the ribbon, the picture, the charms… It made that smaller part of you that believed something was there, glow and warm inside your heart.

You look at him, there was a sorrow placed on both of your faces, but he just looks at his hand that is placed on the bed through his hair, the one that's so close to yours. “You really don’t think there is anything you don’t regret saying?” Another song passes, you didn’t recall it, but then the playlist shifts to something slower, it’s the Beatles. “I just think you keep a lot inside… It’s okay though. But it is just something I notice.”

Normally, a comment like this or something similar to it would sound trite and judgmental, there are a lot of things people don’t talk about now, but you say it with understanding, a little sad because you can’t help it, but your voice is kind, like gentle fingers through his hair, evening it out; a voice that shows you care, you see him and respect him even if you do want more. “It’s okay,” you whisper as Paul McCartney’s voice sings softly, “I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me.” It felt like he was speaking right to Daryl as he continued to look away from you.

It’s moments like this where he wants to say it all. The sad stories from his childhood that he has never been able to tell anyone before. Stories about his brother… the bad, yes, but even some of the good ones. He knows he could talk to Rick if he wanted, or Carol. His group was loyal to him as much as he was to them– he knew that, but they probably wouldn’t care to hear about Merle, it would probably make them angry to be reminded of all the bad things he’s done to them. He wouldn’t blame them. In many ways, and for more reasons then all of them, he will always be angry at his brother too. This is why he didn’t even like to let himself think about the past, but in other ways, it still sucked. It makes him feel alone, like talking about himself or his brother or the past was just a gateway to hurting himself and scaring others, scaring you.

You wipe him away from those thoughts even though you didn’t even hear them, your voice pulling him out of his trance, “Things are harder now, Daryl, but I think you’ve only gotten better.” There is still so much you don’t know, but nonetheless, it’s like you can read his mind.

“This is the only me you know.”

“And even then I don’t think you’re the man I met when you found me… We’re definitely not the same people.” Your hand is just inches from his fingertips now. “We all have things to improve on, even if we think we’ve already grown up. I think that’s a part of growing up actually… just realizing that you never do, or at least not entirely. You’re always going to continue to grow.” Your words linger in the air as the next song starts, it’s Paramore, it’s The Only Exception— something still laced with melancholia but it has a sweet gentleness to it. It's just like you. This is how you were trying to be with your words. “It’s better if you allow it though, or work toward it instead of against it, I think.” You laugh at yourself then, “But I'm far from perfect so I should really stop talking.” Blush creeps onto your cheeks, you’re hopeful the night’s light doesn’t show it too much.

He wishes he could tell you he thinks you’re perfect, or at least something close to it. At least for him. You truly were like an angel. Maybe Radiohead is on this too.

The chorus continues to play, leading to the song’s ending and his jaw tightens. It’s annoying that you were right, your words from before echo to him. They weren’t nonsensical, he did get it: he does mean the things he never says as much as the things he does, but no one will ever get to know. Not that everyone has to, but maybe for you, maybe just a little, maybe you can be the exception. And he can tell that you’re trying to me: who carries around a silly little ribbon anyway? Or who keeps their window open almost every night, even on cold nights? He felt like he was failing you. Maybe these gifts and these small moments weren't enough. Maybe they were just trinkets; meaningless, giving you false hope for a love he couldn’t provide.

You both hear the outro, “Oh, and I’m on my way to believing,” and his heart pangs at that. Maybe he doesn’t have to fail, maybe he can try, at least right now, “It’s just…” he speaks up, his voice clears, “It made me think of you when I saw it.” He was talking about the mp3, “That’s why I brought it back… You’re always humming under your breath. Now you can stop annoying me with the same old thing.”

Your eyes roll, but you aren’t mad, in fact, you can't help that it makes you smile. “Oh, okay, Daryl,” you say through quiet bits of laughter.

“Also thought it could help you sleep… I dunno.”

You nod intently at his words, “Thank you,” and that wistfulness in your voice returns. “That's really kind.”

He nods back. He’s so gruff and straight-faced all the time, but was it bad to say that there were moments when you can't help but see him as adorable? He was always trying not to meet your gaze through his hair, and it was always messy like a kid’s, just like when you took that photograph.

Muse’s Starlight starts playing as you brush some of the hair out of his face. It's an awkward transition, but it's what you get from accidentally pressing shuffle so many times. In the end, though, the words make it seem perfect for the moment. The singer spoke of desire and escape, about missing loved ones and wanting to keep someone special, someone that's like starlight, close by. You understood that. He did too.

You giggle lightly, “Daryl, you- you have something…” You point at your face in reflection of his.

“What?” He wipes his nose.

“No, it's- it’s here,” you say, taking your finger to lightly catch the eyelash that threatened to slip away from his face and onto the bed. “Make a wish,” you whisper. Your face is nothing short of innocence and wonder.

His snorts, “I’m not doin’ that.”

“Daryl,” you eyes widened with apparent prodding and pleading annoyance, but your words still have a sense of amusement to them, “I think we need all the luck we can get.” Your head tilts as you say through your smiling teeth, “I’ll do it with you…?”

“Fine.” He can’t help that your squeal makes his lips curl but he’s trying to hide it.

“You have to really do it.” You turn the music down, it's in the background now. Your usual sun-filled eyes are currently wide like the moon as you look into his, coming closer to his face.

He nods, “Okay.”

“Promise?” You sing.

“Promise.” He meant it, he even closed his eyes before you to prove it.

You closed your eyes too, “Okay, I’m trusting you.” Squeezing them tightly, you whisper, “Think about what you want, and then I'm going to count to three and we blow.”

Instantly, your heart foolishly thinks of Daryl. You know you could be thinking about the safety of your group, the stability of Alexandria, or hoping that the threat everyone feels coming subsides into nothingness, but all your thoughts are just of him. It makes you feel like a silly little girl, waiting for that big romantic confession of love that you dream about, the one that will probably never come.

I wish for you, you think. You can’t help it, you can’t say anything else, this is the only thing that’s true, I just wish to stay by your side, forever.

The song echoes your hopes too, I’ll never let you go if you promise not to fade away.

You agree, never fade away, please.

“Okay,” you say softly aloud, “1… 2… 3…” And then your wish flies into the air. You two stare at each other afterwards, eyes starry like the sky from your window.

You wished for each other.

Trinket No. 6: Scars, Marks, Tattoos, and Internal Wounds ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The Things I Only Trust You to Know

It’s another night. Another visit. It wasn’t intentional this time, but your curtains were drawn. They’re almost never drawn, at least not completely. The window was still open though, the night’s breeze ruffled them backwards. Daryl became concerned, so he climbed up, opening the window wider and pushing the curtains to the side to get through.

He saw you crying.

Hearing the thud of his boots stomp lightly to the ground triggered you to turn, body facing the closet as you were curled in your bed. You didn’t want him to see you. “I’m tired tonight, Daryl.” Your voice was low, you tried to keep in neutral. For the most part you were doing well, but it was still obvious you weren’t fine— he saw your face before you covered it.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, his legs hitting by your feet. He didn’t feel like asking if you were okay if you were going to lie and say no. “You can tell me to go if you want,” was all he said, rubbing your arm as he did and then let go. You starting sniffling involuntarily because of the touch. You realized you were holding in a breath, the shaky exhale came out louder than you wished it did. “I’m sorry,” your voice blubbering. You were embarrassed. You hadn’t done this in front of him since before he brought you home.

“Don’t gotta be.”

“I feel stupid,” you say under your breath. You’re still trying to hide your face.

“Stop.” He puts his hand over your body now, on the bed, and he faces you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head slowly, looking at him, “I don’t know how to say. I can’t-”

“Just say it,” he said calmly.

You felt heat rising from your throat, it was like the words were trying to come out, but it felt scary to do so, it made your teeth grind against each other. Your head shakes harder, “I don’t think I can.”

He brings a hand to your face and wipes some of your tears with his thumb, “What would you tell me?”

You would tell him to speak, that it’s okay, you both knew it. The thought makes you sit up in your bed, tears still running down your cheeks, but you were going to try.

“You’re just going to get annoyed,” you wipe some of your tears with your wrist, “think I’m dumb, like a little girl.”

“You’re not dumb,” he spoke over you before you finished.

You pause, you shake your head again. The words are on your tongue but you just feel so bad and so embarrassed to admit it. “Sometimes I just…” your voice hitches and your hands goes to your head, more tears fall, “it’s just one of those days, I guess.”

One of Daryl’s hands goes to your shoulder and your upper back, he pats you until it quickly becomes a soft, swaying motion.

Your voice doesn’t go above the lightest whisper as you try to start again, “Sometimes- I just look at myself and I-” a sob erupts from your throat and tears roll much quicker, “I know you’re going to think I’m stupid, but sometimes I just wonder if anyone could love me.” It doesn’t even feel good to finally admit it, but you continue, “I feel like there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I’m not enough. Or I’ll never be.”

Daryl’s face heats up. How could you ever feel that way about yourself? How do you not see yourself as anything less than everything he’s seen in you since the day he met you? You’re not stupid. Never. He feels stupid for not seeing this in you. He feels stupid for it being so hard for him to tell you everything wonderful about yourself in the way you deserve.

He thinks for a moment, he wishes he was more poetic, but he wasn’t and there are still certain things he’s not ready to say. So he decides on something else as he calls your name, “You’re telling me you can’t see you’re a tough son of a bitch?” The phrase makes you laugh involuntarily through your tears, he always says it like it’s one word. “One that found a way to burn down a hospital and kill a bunch of dickheads in one go just to stay alive?” He huffs, “Prettiest arsonist I’ve seen.”

You gasped but it made you smile lightly, it was funny. “I’m not an arsonist! And it was only part of the building.”

“Coulda fool me.” He tilts his head, “But you’re also probably one of the best scavengers we got. And you’re a good friend.” His hand travels to your knee, “You’re really good at talkin’ to people… and to me.”

You try to let his words fill you up but there is still doubt. “I don’t feel like pretty and really good are the right words.”

“Then you’re wrong.”

You shake your head.

He doesn’t get it, “Well, what do you see that I’m not?”

Your heart beats ferociously, you don’t move, you’re hesitant, you don’t know if this is right, but there is a part of your that wants to. “Can I show you something?” You asked.

He nods.

It’s scary, but you decide to trust him, showing him the part of yourself you felt most ashamed of. The part of you that you thought was unloveable.

But he sees nothing shameful, nothing bad, he just holds onto it or another part of you, caressing you gently. “You’re perfect,” he says, shrugging as if his words aren’t a big deal, but he knows they are. This is the first time he doesn’t keep a thought like this in his head anymore. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He turns his back on you now, and he takes a breath, sighing deeply. You’re confused until he sighs and starts to speak; “When you were with those guys— and I know it ain’t the same, but— I know what it’s like. For people to use you.” He swallows hard, “I don’t like myself all the time neither.”

Your eyes widen. He was taking off his shirt. The first thing you see are tattoos, until your eyes travel to the other side, you see what he meant; the scars. “My dad. He was a drunk and a loser and an asshole.” Daryl's voice hitched, you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you had never heard him like this before. “He did it to my brother too, Merle. But then he just left when he was old enough. Didn’t even give a shit that our dad was gonna do it to me,” there was anger in his voice. “He said he didn’t know,” and then he chokes on his words, “but how can I believe that? Thought it’d just skip a generation? He never changed. Neither of ‘em.” You wanted to hold him, but you didn’t know if it was too soon. He was still speaking, “Then when I got old enough, I left too. Some time later I started drifting ‘round with Merle, like that was gonna be any better… Two fucked up kids doing nothin’ with their fucked up lives.” His face turned to the side, you saw his profile, his eyes were red, “That’s what I did before Rick… You all were going to do good things with your life and I was gonna be nothing.”

“Daryl…” you were crestfallen, “I’m so sorry.” You held his arm, stroking it softly. “But you weren’t going to be nothing.”

“Yes, I was.”

“There is no thinking about what could have been. This is how life is. Maybe this was always going to happen,” your voice falters as you say it. “You’re not nothing. You’ve become everything to so many people.”

He turns his face back around and you look at his back again. It was difficult to look at, you won’t lie. Your heart sunk low, like it was being squeezed and brought down to the pit of your stomach to know that someone put him through this. Someone who was supposed to love him. Another tear escaped your eye at of the thought.

“Daryl,” you stutter meekly, “Is it okay if I hold you?”

His nod is so faint you barely see it, but he doesn’t say anything else so you believe it is a yes.

Your fingers ghost over his back until you let the tips of them finally lay on his skin.

His eyes wince and squeeze as he shutters despite your fingers trailing so tenderly. Your palm is now flat on his back as you move downwards and back up again. You kiss near his shoulder, right on the tip of his highest tattoo and then you wrap your arms around him, under his arms over his waist, and he holds your hands there.

You stay there for a long while, you don’t have a recollection of time. The moment feels like forever, although it is sad and you wished you weren’t discussing the things you were to get here, you don’t want it to end. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him.

It’s quiet until he says, “No,” disagreeingly, “You’re not brave just because you go through some shit.”

“But you still are,” you insist. “This happened to you and you chose to be the person you are now despite it. You became someone invincible.” You pressed him against you tighter, “I’m proud of you. Every day.”

Finally he turns around and takes you in his arms, your head now resting over his shoulder as your chests touch, closing the gap. You lay down on the bed and he stays on top of you. One hand plays with your hair and you continue to caress his back.

“I really like your tattoos,” you whisper, almost a giggle in your voice. “They look really good on you.”

He smiles a little. He never takes off his shirt so people barely see all the ones he has. He liked that you liked them. “Thank you,” he says.

“Do you want more? If you could?” You also want to ask why he got the ones he did, but the crying has made you sleepy and him being on top of you is making your mind hazy. “I wish I could,” is all you add.

He looks at you, “Maybe that’s the next thing we find.” He was talking about a tattoo gun, “That’s the kind of junk people don’t need now, we’ll look.”

He plays with your hair again, both your smiles are so innocent and lazy, you two would knock out soon, but it was nice to talk about something that used to be mundane for a moment.

“What if we do it and it turns out bad?”

“We’re not gonna find it tomorrow.”

“Right,” you say, moving on. “You know… I remember I used to be so scared of that stuff— needles and blood. I can imagine wincing just thinking about a needle touching me at the doctor’s… But now, I think that’s a pain I’d actually prefer… Rather than the other things we’ve gone through… If there ever was a choice like that.”

He agrees, “If there was a choice, I’d be covered by now.”

You two laugh at that, letting go of each other. Your bodies are on your sides, parallel to one another as you lay down. You’re on the side that faces the window and Daryl’s back is to it. He sees the moonlight illuminate your face because of it, the glow makes you look enchanting.

He wonders if you would get one— a tattoo, or another one, of this: of the moon; of the night where you showed each other parts of your bodies you wanted to hide, thinking they were flaws; of the night where you accepted each other fully despite it. Where he laughed and felt happy even after he shared something so dark. He almost never laughs or feels happiness in its totality, but with you, he does. It happened right now as he’s looking at you.

You see his face glistening in tandem with the white light that shines on you, it’s darker, but it’s still there. You were wondering the same exact thing.

Your eyes feel heavy now. They slowly flutter shut, but you try to keep them open. You don’t want him to leave. But he sees that your face dozing off, you’re tired, your eyes keep trying to close and close fully. He quietly gets up to go, but you stop him. Holding onto his forearm, sliding down to his hand. “Just stay,” you murmur, “please,” it’s light and dream-like. So he does. He doesn’t want to let go of your hand. He doesn’t want to let go of you.

You both stay at your sides, your intertwined hands at the center. He continues to look at you and you smile softly as your body finally allows your eyes to close shut. You drift swiftly to sleep. And he stays awake for a while longer, fixed on you and your slowing breath until sleep finds him too.

Daryl being right there, and you being right next to him, made everything infinitely better.

Despite it being vague on details, feel free to skip around areas of this one if you are not comfortable with reading about the reader being imprisoned at the Sanctuary.

Trinkets No. 7 & 8: The Second Ribbon and the First Kiss ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ જ⁀➴ -`♥︎´-

Confessions From a Broken Bowman and a Battered Beaut

It had taken a long while for you and Daryl to talk again after you escaped the Sanctuary.

The last time he saw you was through your tears as Negan’s men threw him in a van, your eyes bloodshot, wanting to scream and plead. He felt it was his fault that he didn’t fight harder; he felt that it was his fault that you were in there for so long; felt it was his fault that you were taken there in the first place. He couldn’t save Glenn— a burden he still carried so deeply, even after talking to Maggie— and that led to not being able to save you. He felt like he left you, not knowing you would have been in the same place he was if he didn’t escape before you got there. But what choice did he have? He didn’t know. And he doesn’t even know if it’s a good or bad thing to admit that in a heart beat, he would take another day of torture, of abuse and pain, if it meant he was with you, and you could make it out together. One more day for him would have been worth your days only adding up to one hand if it could. It would have been better than just waiting for you on the other side. Having to hide just so Negan wouldn’t find him and kill him and more of his friends because of it.

And even worse, what if he threatened Daryl with you instead? Especially since you were still there, with him. That’s part of the reason why Daryl wanted to blow up the Sanctuary. It would have just been one side. Just enough to cause the chaos you needed to run away from your captures and back home. You were fast enough, he knows you are, and you must have known all the exits by now. He tried to convince himself of it. Rick told him it was a bad idea, dangerous to do that to the workers, and most importantly to you— it too many what ifs if it didn’t work out— but what else was he supposed to do? He needed you out, and the Saviors to be gone. It felt like the only choice.

But then, Daryl saw your face. You got out, you didn’t need another fire. It must have been their first attack against the Sanctuary that helped.

Your breathing was so heavy when you finally stopped, you were running so fast, there were patches of dirt all over you, sweat dripping from your neck. It must have been fate that he, Tara, Micchone, and Rosita were right there on the other side, ironically trying to go back to the place you just escaped from.

All their guns were pointed in your direction. They heard the gunshots, they heard someone running. They instantly dropped everything when they saw that it was you.

It felt like the world turned in its full rotation in seconds, coming into a halt all in this moment. The woods, the running, the chance encounter— him; it’s like you were brought right back to the start.

He was speechless, stunned in a way he didn’t expect, mouth agape and yours the same. You didn’t know what to say and he didn’t know how to apologize in the way he felt he should, so you both just stood there. Tears started to well in your eyes. All he did in the end was look down.

This exchange of stares happened only in a mere matter of seconds until Rosita brought you in for a hug, cursing leaving even though she knew you didn’t have a choice, being so happy you were back, but for you it felt agonizingly long.

And for Daryl, it all felt endlessly hopeless. The reality that his plan probably could, or most definitely would have killed you sunk in. He was stupid for thinking that it could work. And seeing you in that wife's dress? A black bow tied to the back of your head? It was unbearable. He hates that he found it hard to even look at you.

The two other women welcomed you back, Michonne even looked teary eyed. The sight made some of your own tears fall because of it. She took you by the shoulder and Rosita took your waist, guiding you to the trunk. Tara went back near Daryl, she wanted to ask if their new plan at the Sanctuary was still a go but waited when she noticed Rosita sent a glare Daryl’s way. It honestly did more to Tara than Daryl. He didn’t even bother meeting her face, he was already punching himself for his silence, for his inaction. He just got in the driver’s seat and took off.

After that, you watched him, waiting to see when his eyes would finally meet yours, but he tried to avoid them as much as he could. The only time he spoke to you was to ask if you were okay when Alexandria fell and you were all in the sewers, and when he entrusted you to take care of Judith as he guided everyone to the Hilltop afterwards.

This treatment was excruciating, but you said nothing. You didn’t feel like yelling at him, you just wanted him. And there was no time between when you came back to right now when you could speak alone anyway if you did want to yell. If you asked why he probably would just shoved you off and you’d get more sad and upset than you already were, or maybe you’d pester, demanding some kind of answer and he'd be the one that might yell… no reason to fight in front of people, especially since there are so many other things to worry about.

But you remember when you finally got to the Hilltop, and how you saw the way he embraced Carol almost right after he saw her. You weren’t upset about that specifically. You admired Carol, even if you didn’t get to know her that well yet. You knew they loved each other, you thought they had a beautiful relationship… It wasn’t that. It was the fact that you fought all the way to get back to your family, to him, and it felt like it was all just so he could act like a stranger again. He didn’t even say hello when he saw you, or ask how you got out, or that he missed you. Maybe he didn’t. That was the real reason you said nothing. The thought broke your heart.

You could at least say that Negan talked to you, and didn’t keep all his feelings inside– whether they were real or not, you were only half sure somtimes– but your time at the Sanctuary, becoming a soon-to-be-wife, it was a hardship only you endured. No one would understand the humor of that sick joke, and it especially wasn’t the time nor would it ever be when everyone hated him and wanted to kill him so desperately.

The next day came by, you all prepared for the Saviors to attack at Hilltop. You were on a break, sitting in the cellar. It was dark, but it helped relieve you from the incessant heat that beamed outside.

Daryl was looking for you. This happened to be the third place he went around. He had just spoke to Rick, apologized for their fight. He felt awful that it took until after Carl passed for them to talk about it, and that his passing made Rick start to believe all the killing might be the only option like Daryl believed before. He still wasn’t sure what he felt now. All he knew is he couldn’t let you two go on like this any longer. It was time to talk to you.

As he opened the cellar door he kept it slightly open, letting the light emanate through.

He sits down next to you, bringing his knees up as he usually does. You don’t bother looking at him. Maybe he would just ask you to do him a favor like last time.

There is silence for a moment. He doesn’t know where to begin. All he decides to say is, “You got Judith here safe, I made sure Rick knew. Thank you.”

“You’re the one who led us here.” Your voice says quietly.

“You helped chop a lot of those walkers down in the swap.”

You sigh, not answering him right away. “This isn’t a competition.”

“I know,” he mutters.

Silence is all that hangs in the air again. With each second that passes it makes your throat swell, bubbling up to your tongue and brain as it usually does until you’re trying to hold back tears.

Daryl was feeling similarly. All his words were caught in his throat too, wanting to be said out loud but he can’t, it’s like someone is squeezing and choking him right there. And he can see your teary eyes, it could almost make his eyes match.

He says your name low and slow, “Do you hate me?”

You’re stunned at the thought. Your words are hushed but vehement, “How could you ever think I’d hate you?”

“I left you-”

“You didn’t know.”

“I could’ve fought harder when they put me in that van, you grabbed onto me and I still let them take me—”

You speak in between his words, “Why are you acting like you had a choice?!”

“—I could’ve went back right after they told me that’s where you were. Not leave you! I coulda done that.”

You shake your head, your voice a sharp whisper, “If you tried either of those things you would have been dead. Everything would be worse and this probably still would have happened.”

“I could’ve done something,” is all he repeats. Quietness fills the space again. You’re never going to agree on this. He’s stuck on what happened and you’re upset about what’s happening.

You breathe in shakily. He’s still finding it hard to look and it hurts, it makes you sad and angry.

Your voice becomes stifled, almost weepingly as you ask, “Daryl… Why can’t you even look at me? Why have you barely talked to me since I came back?”

His voice raises strainingly, “Cause I left you.”

Your voice cries as your head shakes again slowly, “You didn’t leave me, they took me. You left me now.” That makes him turn. You see his eyes, they’re puffed and the whites of his eyes are a faint red, and yours are still watery. “It’s not your fault.”

The backs of your fingertips brush against his cheek, feeling the bristles of his beard and you go down further, continuing to shake your head sadly, moving back to your face to wipe your own tears.

“Did they put you in that cell? Take your stuff?”

“Only the first time I came there. And then the two other times I tried to escape. After that I was sent to sleep with the other girls.” Your voice is quiet, “I don’t think it was the same for me like it was for you.”

“Did he,” he almost can't say it, “Did he hurt you?”

You knew what he meant. All you could do was shake your head slowly, it was a gesture of no.

He nods, his mouth fixed. Some relief is finally released from that, but this doesn’t change anything. They still took you away, they probably put you in a cell, they don’t deserve mercy. He wants to tell you that you all are still going to kill Negan and how he still plans on killing Dwight, but he holds his tongue. This wasn’t what being with you was about right now. His mind races with plans, just thinking of how to get close to them, how to commit the final act, until you speak, reading is mind again.

“I-” you stutter ashamedly, “I think- I know that my time in there has changed me and maybe I see things differently or know more than I used to but… it doesn’t change that I’m with you. I never let that go.” You whimper, “It just hurt when you didn’t say anything to me. Like you were disgusted by me.” You can’t help the string of sobs that come out.

“No,” Daryl holds your face close to his. The bottom of his palm reaching your neck, his fingertips extending over your cheeks, his thumb caressing over the area under and behind your ears. “I fucked up. I was going to try to blow up a part of the Sanctuary… even before I knew you got out… If you got hurt that would have been my fault. That would have been on me. I’d never see you again- Would’ve hated myself.” His voice hitches, it’s rasp so coarse and grating.

You hug him instantly. Your hands go under his arms and one of his goes in your hair, holding your head so tightly as it presses into his shoulder. He cries, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop” You breathe him in, “It’s okay.”

“It aint.”

“It doesn’t matter now.“ You wait a moment, telling him quietly into his neck, “I only want to be with you.”

“And what if it goes bad? What if I hurt you again?”

“We’re going to hurt each other, Daryl. What matters is we try and we stay. That’s it.”

He faces you now. His nose brushes against yours, your foreheads connect, it makes your eyes flutter shut. Your tears are drying the longer he holds you like that and everything feels so warm. Your heart, your brain, your cheeks and his fingertips against them. It makes you feel it again, that fearlessness— you kiss him. Gently touching his jaw, your chin moves upwards, your mouths opens, your lips twist so softly with his, you already can’t breathe, and then you let go.

As he looks at your face, he smiles, realizing he’s seeing the girl he used to know again. His sunshine girl with the stars in her eyes. They’re shining up, still half sad and glossy, but the bright lights are slowly coming back on. His dream is back. She’s real. You’re real. You’re trying, you’re staying, so will he.

He takes your neck and kisses you this time. His tongue slips in, you’re so surprised, you gasp into his mouth. It makes you both smile into the kiss. You come closer and he helps you into his lap, allowing you to lean in. His hands go to your waist and yours to his shoulders. Then one of his hands runs up to your hair and your opposite hand does the same to him. You want to touch each other everywhere now.

Then he feels the ribbon, the black one. It makes him stop.

You’re worried, “What happened?”

He holds the piece of hair that the ribbon is secured to, it’s only a little part, the rest of your hair is down, and he undoes the bow, discarding it to the ground. Your hair falls messily over your ears and down your neck. “You don’t need that anymore.”

Daryl pushes your hips and you sit on the floor again. He’s reaching in his pocket, and you can’t believe it, it’s another one. A dark ruby, maybe a silky burgundy one it was in color— it was another ribbon.

“How long have you had that?”

“Since I found the other one.” He shrugs, “I thought the first one was better.” This one had fraying on one end, unraveling just a bit.

You would have said that you could sew it later, but you didn’t, you said only what mattered: “It’s perfect.”

Daryl doesn’t argue. This is him trying, he takes the win.

He doesn’t know how to put it nicely in your hair, how you do it with the different styles, so he just wraps all of your hair in a ponytail, just like last time, tying it into a bow.

It feels like a gift, not just because he gave it to you and not because it looks like a decoration on top of one, but it is all of it— this moment, the conversation— it all feels like breathing new life into something you worried might be slowly withering and dying. You exhale, it felt so nice to feel him so close, to feel his fingers run through your hair, to feel his breath on your skin.

“Think maybe this suits you better now,” he says, and maybe it always has.

He leans back against the wall and you lay your head and back in the crux of his knees and chest. You look up into his eyes and he does the same right down at you. There was more work to be done, more fighting to endure, but for now, you lay there as if you were the only two in the world. In a moment of sweet understanding; in a moment of love. You could finally admit it to yourself now, you were absolutely and monumentally in love.

… I could go on forever ♡ perhaps this can be a mini-series where I post one when I think of another and you can feel free to request a trinket you think Daryl would give the reader and I’ll post it and respond or even write a blurb for it and add it to the list if it’s a good fit! Thank you for reading. ⋆｡°✩

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x fem!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fluff #twd fanfiction #twd fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #writella’s sfw section

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dixonsgirl93 · 8 months

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Daryl Dixon finding out you’re pregnant with his child and what he’d be like as a dad:

(I gotta be honest, I don’t normally like pregnancy/child tropes. They just don’t interest me in fiction HOWEVER this thought came to me. How would our sweet, traumatised boy react to having a family of his own??)

He’d be in shock, not believing you could really be carrying his baby, that he was gonna be a dad

He’d say he needs space/time to think about what this really means and he’ll disappear on “runs”. You wouldn’t hear from him for at least a couple weeks

He’d be terrified at first. Because of the idea of bringing a child into a broken world, because he fears he’d be a terrible father

He’d have to come to terms with not being able to run off and do his own thing. He’d have responsibilities now

He already knew he was never going to leave the pair of you. It was never in his mind to abandon you

He’d work even harder to protect you both, putting himself on the line more but secretly he’d enjoy it in a way, because he had something that was his and he’d give his life 1000 times over to protect what belonged to him

He’d teach them how to hunt from an early age, to fight, how to use his crossbow, the right berries and mushrooms to eat, how to fish and anything else Daryl knew, he’d pass it all on

What you wouldn’t know, was that when the child was much older, Daryl would teach them how to protect you both, should something happen to Daryl. He’d teach them to not let the grief consume them

While you were pregnant he’d kiss your belly loads, lovingly patting it and feeling the kicks. And when he first felt a kick he’d get teary eyed and it would be the first time he felt like a dad

He’d talk to his child while in your belly, telling them stories of the old world and of how badass he thinks their mom is

He’d be the first to bring you comforts, pillows, blankets, enough food so you could both stay strong

He wouldn’t be home too much, wanting better to be hunting for you, making a nursery for you but when he was home he focused his attention on you and the baby

He would be more anxious, wanting to provide for and protect you constantly but not being able to do both all the time

He would think of the family he lost and compare you and his child to himself, Merle and their dad, desperately wanting his child to have a better life than he did

When the baby was born, he’d spend a lot of time just holding and looking at them, memorising their features, looking for you and himself in them

He’d gently run his fingers over their soft skin. He couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could hurt a child, imagining his own scars and childhood

During childbirth he’d be at your side the whole time, encouraging you to be strong, giving you praises, clutching your hand and not caring that your nails were digging into his skin from the pain

When the child was older and told him that they were proud to have him as their dad, he’d sob, not caring who saw because it was something he’d been worried about for years. He was so certain he would fail any child in his care

If the child was a girl, he’d teach her not to take shit from men, he’d tell her about the certain tricks men use. He’d teach her to be strong and independent

If the child was a boy, he’d teach him how to be respectful to women, he’d teach him how to be a leader, how to protect people, how to be unbreakable but that emotional vulnerability was not weakness, but strength

He’d be a stern dad, soft sometimes but the child would quickly grow to be respectful, learn to communicate their feelings and feel safe and loved. Something Daryl never got

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smallpeniscollective · 1 year

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First Time

Daryl Dixon x Reader (18+)

Summary: (takes place in season 2 on the farm, Daryl and the reader are out on a hunt, and they stumble across an empty cabin, and then they seize an opportunity)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: walkers, sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex

*~*~*

It was rare for Daryl to be accompanied on a hunt. He usually moved quickly and worked alone, but this time, she had asked him to take her as well. She had flattered her way into the position with, “You’re just so good at hunting,” and “I want you to teach me, so I can help the group.” She knew exactly what to say to get him to agree to take her out, but what she didn’t know was that he wanted to be alone with her.

It’s not like alone time didn’t exist at the farm, but he was a very private man, and couldn’t ask her to sit with him in front of everyone, or just anyone. But when he came back from the woods yesterday after searching tirelessly for Sophia with a rope of dead squirrels across is back, she approached him.

She was no hunter. She had this insistent natural belief that every single little living creature could have had a family or could feel extreme pain and suffering. She decided it was time to get over this and try to return to her human nature as an animal of the food chain. The squirrels were smaller than her, and the group needed to eat.

She was quiet and graceful in the forest, barely making a sound as she tiptoed over twigs and crunchy leaves. But she still felt a hollow guilt in her chest every time she managed to catch a squirrel. She couldn’t kill it, not after she had looked into its panicked little eyes.

“You do it, Daryl,” she said, giving him the tiny creature who was desperately scratching to get out of her hands. “I can’t kill him, I looked into his eyes.”

“Ya mean kill it. These ain’t people like us, they’re the food that we need to eat. They’re our survival,” he said with his agitated southern drawl.

“Hey, at least I caught it. I may be a bad hunter, but you can’t say I can’t catch,” she retorted, as he took the squirming squirrel from her hand. He quickly snapped its neck, causing her to wince and look away. He scoffed at this.

“Do not call me a pussy right now, Daryl, or I swear to god,” she joked, not even finishing her sentence to let his mind wander about what her meek little self would be capable of doing to him.

They snaked through the woods until they stumbled upon a small cabin with a tin green roof. The little building was eerily quiet, although no quiet was comfortable these days. Daryl went in first, holding up his crossbow to take out any immediate threat and slowly opening the front door in an attempt to be quiet and discreet, but the old door creaked loudly. She followed him closely through every room, almost clipping his heels several times. If it was anyone else, he would have made an annoyed remark about them breathing down his neck, but he didn’t feel annoyed at having her so close. He felt better, like he was keeping her safer.

Once the small space was searched, he sighed, placing his bow gently on the dingy, unstable table in the kitchen. She crouched down to check cabinets for any canned or preserved goods, and he searched the pantry and fridge for any dried goods or bottled beverages. “Y’know,” she said mindlessly, as she rifled through extremely expired or already-opened items, “back in the good days, I would’ve used an abandoned cabin like this to do a lotta devious things.”

“What kinda things?” he asked with a reserved tone that indicated he was much more curious about her statement than he was letting on.

“Well, I was a chronic stoner, abandoned building seshes hit the best, but only when you’re with someone,” she said, smiling to herself as she looked back on the fun she had in her youth. “No fun being by yourself in one of these things.”

He looked at her with a slightly quizzical gaze, as he abandoned his pantry search to stand closer to her. “Didn’t take ya as a druggie,” he huffed in a defensive tone.

He told her very little about Merle, but she remembered how he told her about Merle’s drug habits. Suddenly, she felt guilty about recalling her drug experiences with joy when he had only known it as a destructive force. She closed the cabinet, turning around and standing up to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t like that,” she said quietly with a timid demeanor. “I never did anything hard, I was just a kid with nothing to do.”

“Yeah,” he said curtly, dropping his stare to the dirty floor, clearly getting more defensive about the topic.

Not wanting to drop the conversation, she threw out a last-ditch effort to keep him talking to her. She crossed her arms, rubbing the sides of her upper arms as she expressed, “Hey, thanks for taking me with you on your run... I know we don’t talk a lot, but I enjoy it when we do.”

The tension building in his shoulders dropped and he looked back at her. “I, uh, enjoy it too,” he admitted. For a moment it felt like there was a spark, a hint of something more to come between them. She softly smiled, looking down bashfully before locking eyes with him again. He could see the sparkle in her eyes, but he was never as bold as Merle was when it came to making moves. Hell, Merle would harass women like he got paid to do it. Daryl was forever stuck as the little brother, being put down so much as a kid making him now too shy as an adult to be as confident as his older brother.

She, on the other hand, was always so relaxed around him. She almost never seemed too shy to say what was on her mind. He didn’t know if this came from a new lifestyle of expecting life to end short, or if she had always been this way, but he appreciated her talking to him even when he couldn’t find words to say.

Suddenly, the sight of a walker passed by the kitchen window. The rotting man with a half-gouged face stumbled by the window, oblivious to what was just past the glass shield.

She was facing away from the window, but he saw and reacted immediately, pulling her to him and covering her mouth and with his large hand before she let out a muffled gasp from the unexpected grabbing. He pulled her down the ground with him, below the line of sight through the window. Her panicked eyes locked with his, and he put a finger to his lips, nonverbally queuing her to make no sounds. He gestured towards the window, and she understood that he must’ve seen something that caused him to react.

After a few minutes to make sure the walker was gone, he took his hand off of her mouth, and she realized his body was closer to hers than anyone’s body has ever been. She began to blush, feeling her body growing hotter and adrenaline-induced arousal blooming in her. Being a virgin was something she never talked about; it just never came up in a world where survival was what mattered. And even though survival mattered now, all she could focus on was the pressure of his body weight on top of hers, and his abdomen pressing into her hips.

Daryl knew the walker passed without noticing them or being drawn to the cabin, but he found that he couldn’t lift himself off of her just yet. He could sense her demeanor had shifted and that she wasn’t just nervous now, but flustered. She swallowed the saliva that gathered in her mouth anxiously, giving the most awkward, breathy chuckle before whispering, “I’ve, uh... never been this close to anyone before,” thinking it would be humorous.

He gave an obvious up-and-down before whispering in return, “A pretty thing like you’s never been touched before?”

She went stiff, her mouth forming a flat line before shaking her head to signify that, no, she had never been touched and confirming that, yes, she was a virgin.

He paused for a moment, teetering the border of being respectful and staying silent or offering some sort of fix for her, to help her experience her first time before either of their lives could possibly be cut short by the new rough world’s circumstances. “Y’know...” he quietly stammered, “we could—”

“Yes,” she whispered, cutting him off before he could finish his question. Normally, she would have been painfully shy, but his body already against hers, the rush of the sudden hiding, and how much she undeniably enjoyed his hand over her mouth all lined up to have her needing more. This was the first time she had ever had this rush, and she trusted Daryl with her life.

Truthfully, this wasn’t the first time he had thought about this. One of the only single, pretty girls in their camp? Of course he had thought about this. He never thought he was particularly her type, or that she’d even look his way like that, but in this moment, he was able to put all of those thoughts to the side.

He looked into her eyes deeply, scanning her face for anything that would let him know that he should not take her right here, right now. He found nothing. In fact, the glimmer in her eyes pleaded with him to make a move. He dipped his head down to her, placing his lips on hers with that masculine force that intensified the kiss tenfold.

She gasped from the suddenness of his move, but quickly melted into his touch, creeping her fingers up his sides. As their kiss deepened, his body moved up against hers, and a small whine caught in her throat from the pressure changes. She spread her legs, allowing his body to dip in closer and his hips to meet hers. He could just feel the heat radiating from her clothed loins, causing him to harden in his pants. Feeling the stiffness press against her sent electricity flying all throughout her body and sent anticipatory shivers down her spine. In her pheremone-induced confidence, she removed the first article of clothing, letting go of his hair to reach down and pull her shirt up over her head, momentarily breaking their kiss and revealing her bra. He took his opportunity to latch his lips onto her neck, rubbing his hands all over her exposed torso while sucking hard on the soft skin of her neck. There were definitely going to be marks left, but she didn’t mind.

He grabbed a hold of her hips, grinding his covered erection against the inner seam of her jeans, causing her to gasp from the sensation of her seam being pushed into her. She reached down to unbutton her pants, needing less layers between the grinding, but he stopped her hands. He pulled her pants down the length of her legs for her in a gentlemanly manner, making her feel more confident that he was the right man to do this with for the first time. He couldn’t help but stare at her panties, becoming painfully hard at the sight of the desperate wet patch that was already there.

And there she was, half-naked in all her glory on a dirty kitchen floor in an old abandoned cabin, him still fully dressed. But he wasn’t ready to indulge himself in the pleasure of taking her just yet. She watched in nervous awe as he reached a hand down, grazing his knuckles against her covered slit, the ridges of his knuckles making her hips buck up and eliciting a soft whimper form her. The noise from her reminded him of where they were and what had just happened. With a cautious tone, he whispered, “I’m gon’ need you to keep real quiet for me, darlin’. Wouldn’ wanna attract any walkers.”

She nodded softly, her eyes big and round in a plea for him to continue. His goal was to give her the best first time he could, so he gingerly pulled her panties down her legs, tossing them to the side next to her jeans, scooting himself back so that he could fully see her soaked heat.

He dipped his head below her line of sight, using his tongue to lick a sloppy stripe up the center of her folds, ending with a flick at her sensitive bud. This elicited a moan from her, after which she threw her arm over her mouth to muffle any more noise. He admittedly was not the best at eating pussy, but he did what felt natural in an effort to warm her up for him. He placed his large calloused hands on her thighs, spreading them farther as he softly lapped at her, spreading the wetness from her hole. He could hear her muffled whines as she attempted to remain quiet, which encouraged him to slide his tongue up, hooking onto the little bud, causing her hips to buck. Realizing this was a sensitive spot, he deftly latched his lips around the bud of nerves, sucking softly while occasionally adding a prodding lick up from her entrance. This must have been the right thing to do because it had her grinding her hips up onto his face and gripping his hair with the hand that wasn’t muffling her moans. He moved a hand from her thigh to touch her, feeling her sopping wetness on his fingers. He then slowly and carefully dipped a thick finger into her, making her moan the loudest she had yet.

He lifted his head to say, “Shh, baby, we gotta keep quiet,” before returning his mouth to her heat.

“It just feels so good,” she whispered in the most desperate voice he had ever heard from her. This turned him on more, but his attention returned to her loins, as he began to pump his finger in and out while he resumed his tongue on her sensitive bud. When he added a second finger to help stretch her out before his length did, he could just see what it did to her. She held her legs up, thighs squeezing him with intensity as she felt an unfamiliar tightening in her core. The sensation made her a whining mess, moving her hips in rhythm against his face.

He pulled back, removing his fingers from her warmth, making her whine like a spoiled child in response. “Why’d you stop?” she whispered, and he gave a light chuckle.

“Don’ tell me I’ve spoiled ya, sweetheart,” he joked, leaning back to pull his shirt off. She watched him do this, eyeing his muscular abdomen and letting it excite her further. He unzipped his pants, pushing down his pants and boxers below his hips, finally revealing his throbbing erection. She stared at it like an animal in the zoo that she had never seen before, instinctively reaching out a inquisitive hand to grab hold of it, pulling a grunt from deep in his throat. She ran the tips of her fingers up the length, lightly dancing her fingertips on the head, the sensation causing a drip of pre-cum to leak out, and she swiped it with her thumb, her eyes studying it with intrigue.

He took his length in his hand, and lined it up with her entrance, stroking it up and down her slit a couple of times to gather her wetness on it. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he pushed in, releasing her breath with a sigh. Thank god he had warmed her up first, but even still it hurt a little bit as he pushed all the way in. He stopped moving when he was all the way in, pausing to look in her eyes with a look that conveyed a message of, ‘You ready for this?’

She nodded, rolling her eyes back as he started with a slow pace. His thick arms surrounded her as he held himself above her, watching her face as it changed from slight pain to pleasure. She had never felt such a deep pleasure in her before, her eyes welling with tears of joy as she struggled to keep herself from moaning loudly. The push and pull of his member in her felt like the push and pull of an ocean wave of pleasant tingles, that tightness in her core beginning to return.

When he picked up his pace, letting out his own small grunts, she couldn’t hold her moans back anymore. The sounds of her pleasure sounded like beautiful music to his ears, but then he remembered why she had to stifle them in the first place. He moved a hand to cover her mouth, gripping her jaw a tightly as he continued to thrust. The hand on her mouth turned her on more, letting herself make all of her noises into his hand.

“Baby, yer gonna bring in some walkers if ya keep makin’ those pretty sounds,” he cooed, sounding more gentle than she had ever heard his voice. She nodded, breathing deeply with her nose and hearing the whistle from her nostrils against his hand. The tightening in her body had shifted to a building sensation, as the gliding of his length through her and the danger of being so vulnerable mixed together to create an excitement that she had never been close to feeling before. Every time he thrusted into her, it felt like he was hitting a button that sent sparks all throughout her body, and she could feel all of her pleasure gather in one place as he bent his head down to lay more sloppy wet kisses on her neck.

He kept his rhythm steady, not wanting to hurt or overwhelm her for her first time, but he could feel himself becoming needier, needing more of her enveloped around him, so he pressed harder, deeper. The deeper he hit that spot in her, the closer she was to reaching that peak of pleasure, and soon her nails were digging into his sides. Her moans morphed into high pitched squeals buried beneath his hand, letting him know that she was close.

And she was so close. She felt as her walls uncontrollably tightened around him as her inched towards the edge of her orgasm, and he began thrusting fast and hard, overstimulating her senses and sending her body into a pleasurable shock. She began moving her hips up into his as her body craved more.

And then it happened. Her body hit its peak of stimulation, a surge of indescribable pleasure billowed through her, making her walls clench down so tightly on him that he had to hiss through his teeth to not finish then and there. Hot tears rolled down the sides of her face and she shakily moaned with an open, drooling mouth into his hand. As he continued his hard pounding, the audacious sounds of the wet slapping sent him into a frenzy of desire, speeding up his pace as he neared his own climax. The continuing pleasure had her writhing underneath him, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly and pulling him closer. His hand squeezed her jaw hard, sure to leave some bruising on the edges of her cheeks, yet she still let out gleeful moans as he rode out her orgasm for her. He reached a hard finish, letting out a guttural grunt as his hips stuttered, releasing a hot load into her and tiredly dropping his head into her neck and finally letting go of her mouth.

In a foggy haze of her first time being cock-drunk, she still managed a tiny giggle. He perked his head up, looking at her half-lidded eyes and a slight curl up of his lips. He spoke with a low gravelly tone as he quietly asked, “Not bad for a first time?”

“Not bad? How are people not doing this all the time?” she whispered over-excitedly, evoking a sheepish smile from him.

“C’mon now, we gotta head back,” he reminded her, getting up off of her and extending out a hand to help her up. She shyly took his hand, surprised at how easily he yanked her up off the ground. She would have felt embarrassed about being so undressed, but it turned into a humorous bubble popping up in her when she noticed his square little man-butt before he pulled his boxers and pants back up. But the bubble burst when she saw the old, large scars on his back. Saving that conversation for when they weren’t in a post-coital glow, she looked away and got dressed quietly as he pulled his shirt back on over his head.

They snuck out of the cabin, after only finding an unopened box of saltine crackers and an old warm six-pack of beer to bring back to the group.

“So,” she started, nervously kicking the dirt as she trailed behind Daryl, “did you want this to just be a one time thing, or...?”

“Darlin’, I hope we get to do that all the time,” he teased, throwing her own words back at her.

She smiled to herself as she followed him back to the farm.

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