#using Daryl to practice bc I know what he looks like so well at this point

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

mid-seasons Daryl's so smooth-headed

#just a damp fella. #I'm still struggling to put people into art styles uuuuughhh #using Daryl to practice bc I know what he looks like so well at this point #but man. I still can't figure this shit out #either it's just simplified realism or Some Random Cartoon Guy #like this doesn't quiiite look like him to me #somethin's wrong #but idk if that's because I'm not used to Shiny New Baby Daryl anymore #I'm being so nitpicky but this is what I do #anyways #the walking dead #the walking dead fanart #daryl dixon #scribbles #daryl dixon fanart #also I'm on a weird kick of using the blandest ugliest saddest colours lately #makin everything just look dirty and sickly <3 #it's on purpose but I'm not rly sure why

[banquetwriter]

୨୧ distant love pt:3 ୨୧

pairing: Rick Grimes ♡︎ fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ daddy kink :(, sex in a forest, low-key FILTH, OOC rick bc i wrote this with later season rick n mind :(, reader being mean to rick, Grimes being a massive simp to a women who isn't his wife lol

summary: ʚ when rck asks reader to join him on a run she remembers a steamy time in the forest ɞ

Words: 1654

AN: sorry for this being late and ooc i haven't written rick enough :/

Part 2 Part 4

“Hey.” Ricks's southern drawl fills the empty air of the room. It was nice out today so most weren't hiding out in their cells. You quickly shut the book closed so as not to embarrass yourself. You clear your throat giving him a closed-off smile.

“Hey. What's up?” you ask, standing up at the prison table. Shoving your book and pencil in the little bag you carry around with you. “I uh need your help on a run. If you can manage,” he says, placing his hands on his hips.

You look down at your bag as you zip it up. “Alone?” you ask, still refusing to look up at him. Rick can't ignore the way his heart stings at your question. “No. Sasha and Daryl will be with us,” he says and you're trying to ignore the way his tongue flicks against his cheek.

‘Us.’ what a cruel joke you think.

Thoughts of Rick continue to flood your brain. The thoughts of his rough big hands tugging on your clothes like it was keeping you down.

*flashback to the quarry*

You step over a branch. Rick had not-so-subtly asked you to join him for a “run” today. This affair/relationship had been going on for a while now. Sneaking away, releasing all the pent-up anger both of you accumulated.

A twig snapped behind you. Causing you to stop dead in your tracks. You were far from camp now. No one would be able to hear you if you screamed…

Suddenly you felt big strong warm arms slithering around your waist. You gasped at the contact. “Well well, looks like I caught a pretty little thing sneaking off huh?” Rick’s familiar drawl asks, nibbling on your ear.

You let out a small giggle, moving out of his touch and spinning around. “Oh yeah? Watcha gonna do about it?” you ask, leaning in close to his face. “Officer?” you spoke the last bit in a whisper.

Your heart flutters at the smile that breaks out on his face. His beautiful face. Ugh. There go those feelings. The ones you have selfishly been keeping to yourself. He had a wife who was cheating on him. This wasn't that bad, right?

“Officer huh?” he asks with a sly smile. You nod your head, yes holding your bottom lip in between your teeth. “That's what I said!” you say with a cheery expression. “Yeah?” he asks his slow drawl practically melting your insides away.

“You know what? I might just have to arrest you for being so damn beautiful,” he says, leaning closer to you with every word. You roll your eyes at his cheesy antics.

You cross your arms as you let yourself walk away from him. You feel his eyes on your body as you start to walk away. “Where do you think you're going?” he calls after you.

You only turn around giving him a cheeky smile in response. “Oh, that's it you little brat!” he murmurs out. He jogs up behind you with a few swift motions. He grips the sides of your arms, pulling your body flush against his.

His strong dominant arms move you toward the nearest tree. It wasn't hurting you per se, but you couldn't deny the delicious amount of pressure that he gave you through his hands.

Your body collides with the tree. Rick’s hands slide down your shorts and panties in one swift movement. The air hits your wet and exposed cunt with a flutter. Rick silently grips your hips, forcing your back to arch.

“Open yer legs,” he says, hand trailing down to your clit. You whimper at the contact. “Sh sh sh.” he tuts, his rough hands slowly finding their way to your sensitive bud. You gasp as his finger slowly starts working.

You grasp the tree for support. You must admit this was not the most comfortable place to have sex, but then again who were you to judge?

You felt your knees wanting to buckle as his pace quickened. “Rick.” is all you can muster out before he slips a finger inside you. Then he slips another one. Fastly pumping in and out of you, fingers curling.

Ricks's eyes are glued to your ass. Touching and rubbing your plump skin. Wanting to spank you till you bled. Fuck you were so perfect for him. So wet and tight.

“You like that baby? You being good f’me?” he asks with a growl. Getting right up next to your ear. You don't respond only moaning as his rough fingers pump faster inside you.

With your unresponsive attitude, he completely pulls his fingers out of you. You whine at the loss of contact and orgasm denial. “Rick,” you whine out. Your hair is already starting to get messy, and sweat is forming on your figure.

“Oh no, I don't wanna hear you whining about yer daddy not giving you enough. Just flip over me,” he commands with a condescendingly sweet voice. You do as you're told slowly flip a round for him.

“There's my pretty girl,” he whispers, pulling your face in for a kiss. Both of his giant hands clasping the sides of your face. He inhales, unable to pull away from you for even a moment. The wet sloppy sounds of your tongues and lips crashing on one another.

His hands find their way to your shirt fiddling for a second to take it off. He slips it off your figure, unclasping your bra. He presses his body against yours again deepening your kiss. His kisses slowly lead down your jaw and to your neck.

They go even further as he starts to kiss and nibble at your breasts. “No marks.” you whimper out holding the back of his head, fingers curled into his hair.

“Sorry darlin’,” he says, reaching down the rest of your body. Placing wet delicate kisses down your stomach and the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you with those sweet sweet eyes. His hands push your thighs apart.

Waves of heat flood your core. He avoids kissing your cunt. Teasing and pinching the surrounding skin. “Rick, I need you,” you whisper to him. Your hands holding the back of his head.

“I know I know,” he whispers. He holstered up one of your thighs, pulling you over his shoulder. He starts with a sensual slow kiss on the top of your cunt. His lips grazed your clit.

You shuddered at the contact. You were already so worked up. It was a wonder how Rick hadn't had more lovers in life. His hands felt so experienced somehow. Rough and yet loving at the same time. God, you would have worshiped the ground he walked on if he asked.

His dark eyes peeked over your body, his tongue and lips slowly bringing back all of the pleasure that you had felt only moments ago. “Mm fuck.” you gasp out. His tongue licks wide long strides up and down your cunt.

His hand snaked around the thigh that was over his shoulder. Keeping it held there, as you started to buck your hips against his mouth and nose. The only noises were your whines that you tried not to make for fear of leading a walker to you and the lewd noises coming from below you as Rick ate you out.

You feel a tightening spread through your body. You crave the release as you moan more frequently praying to whatever god there was to let you cum all over the sheriff’s tongue.

Rick had a dark knowing look in his eyes, he could feel your walls starting to tighten on his tongue. He could feel your hot body begging him to keep going. “Rick, don't stop m gonna cum.” you whined, your body rolling down onto his mouth further.

He was nodding, begging for your precious juices to flow down his throat. His rough and warm hands on your soft body finally push you over the edge. Your head falls back on the tree, and your cunt squeezes his tongue. Your orgasm flushes through you.

Your breath slowly returns to you. Earth coming back to you. Rick pulls away from you grabbing your discarded clothes from the ground as you rest on the poor tree. He dusted them off silently guiding your body back into your clothes.

Rick Grimes was dressing you. His rough hands that were moments ago touching your hands with lust were now sweetly redressing you in clothes he ripped off. He re-ties your shorts and clasps your bra.

And all you can do is watch. This was the Rick you were falling in love with. Not the one who flipped you over to get his dick wet. The ones who protected his son to the very best he possibly could. Rick’s eyes make it to yours, brushing the shrubs that managed to find their way into your hair from the tree.

His hands clamp around your cheeks pulling you into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hand moved to clamp on your neck so did his mouth moving down. You could feel him hungry to nibble and bite your skin.

“Rick!” you shouted pushing him off of you. “No marks,” you muttered, feeling your neck sting. Even if there weren't any hickies there had to have been a few teeth-shaped nicks.

You clenched your jaw and walked away from him continuing on your “run” with Rick. You didn't talk to him for the rest of the day. What was he thinking? Marks like that on your neck could get you caught.

*back to the present the prison*

You blinked back to reality thinking about your previous rendezvous with the man standing in front of you. Pretending like you two hadn't had an affair. “Yeah I can go with,” you mumbled. You bumped into his shoulder when you walked away making him scoff at you.

#the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x original female character #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #the walking dead rick #daddy issues #daddy!rick Grimes

[mucherbuncher]

Daryl x Reader

daryl x reader fic

requested by my mutual

this is my first time actually writing a one shot on tumblr and honestly i’m so exited. i’m still tryna figure out this app bc i literally downloaded it feb. 7th so plz forgive me i’m just a girl. also ignore that none of the “i”s are capitalized i really don’t care.

HOW DO YALL CHECK THAT WORD COUNT??

no warnings other than talking about eating sun disgusting ass food

if i do a part two there’ll be sm!t 🫣

I drew into the dirt absentmindedly with my fingers, bored out of my goddamn mind while Daryl cooks a snake over the fire. I didn’t look at it, because as queasy as i already was from hunger i wasn’t gonna make it worse. I had already eaten a few worms yesterday, something i’d never thought i would’ve done. To be honest, it was Daryl’s idea.

I had been doing everything to stay by his side after the prison fell, including silently obeying him and following him around like a lost puppy. I probably could survive on my own, but having someone by my side made it way easier. I got lucky being stuck with him, at least in the survival sense. Emotionally, or even socially, he was on airplane mode. He barely spoke, barely even looked at me. I didn’t mind it so much for a day or two, but it’s about to be day four. I couldn’t take it anymore.

He used his dirty knife to cut the snake in half, then peeled the skin off. It sorta reminded me of those giant gummy worms that you could get at a candy store, except pink and charred with visible bones.

“Here.” He reached across the small fire to hand me it. I looked up in disgust, hesitantly reaching out to eat the… thing.

It was chewy, like a well done steak. It didn’t taste like that though. It tasted pretty earthy, almost like a bug or something. The closest thing i can compare it too was grasshopper flavored fish. Wow, so appetizing.

I ate my entire half, and ripping off a small piece of rib bone from the spine to clean my teeth. I stared into the fire, like Daryl did. I used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth, unfortunately only spreading more dirt onto my face. Daryl looked about the same.

“What are we doing?” I blurted out, my voice a little hoarse from not talking all day.

Daryl looked up from the fire, staring at me blankly. His eyes practically glowed that pretty steel blue color, and I already felt slightly unnerved from his stare.

“Are we even gonna try to look for anyone, or are we just gonna keep running everyday?” I continued on, my voice growing stronger as I felt more emotions setting in.

“No point.” He grunted after a few seconds of silence.

“But there is. We need the rest of the group, they could all be still alive, together, maybe.”

“Look around, do ya see anyone waitin for us?” He spat, his voice getting a little louder.

“Your a tracker, so track.” I hissed, my eyes narrowed as i felt more and more frustrated with this man.

“Fine. Get yer ass up.” Before I could even think or retort back, He grabbed his crossbow and started kicking dirt into our little fire.

“Daryl, it’s dark…” I muttered, suddenly feeling small at the way he’s acting so pissed.

“This whatchu want, right?” He grabs my arm and yanks me upwards, and I stumble a little before tearing my arm back.

“Stop. Stop it right now.” I stare into his eyes, clenching my jaw a little in anger.

He starts pacing, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He’s trying to hide his face from me.

“There ain’t no point… what if- what if they’re all gone? I can’t… i won’t…” He wipes his eyes with the back of his arm, and i realize, he’s fucking crying. I can handle children crying, even other girls. But when a grown man cries… it makes me want to start sobbing.

My heart sinks and i feel an awful twinge in my stomach. I shouldn’t have pushed him. Fuck me…

“Hey…” My mouth has gone dry, i’m not totally sure what to do here. With the fire gone, and only the moonlight to allow me to see his face, im struggling.

“S’ not… I don’t know what to do.” He chokes a little, and that was my final straw. I pull him in towards me, grabbing his huge tan arms gently. I take the back of his head and put it against my neck, rubbing his back gently. His hands fall limply at his sides as he gives up.

“S’ gonna be alright. We can start lookin tomorrow, alright? You’ve got me. I’m here.” I speak softly and slowly as i reassure him. I’m hoping i’m saying all the right things. He wraps his arms around my waist tightly, restricting my breathing a little.

I hold him there for a long time, rubbing his back slowly as he silent cries into my shoulder. It felt right, comforting him. I was good at it. He needed this badly, and i hoped my optimism would rub off on him.

I pull his head off my shoulder, cupping his face in my hands. They look tiny here, holding him like this. I wipe some of the tears off his pretty face with my thumbs. His eyes bore into the ground, not meeting mine. I knew he felt embarrassed, but it was just the two of us. I wasn’t going to tell a single soul, nobody could make me spill his secrets even through torture.

I brush away some of his greasy brown hair, kissing his forehead gently. His eyes snapped up to meet mine. Shit… was that too much? I force myself to keep a calm expression, gazing at his puffy red eyes.

“M’ gonna start the fire again, okay?” I say gently. He nods, taking a step back and sitting down on the ground.

I fumble the lighter a little in my hands as i grab the kindling, and a small flame peeks through. i slowly start adding more fuel, until a steady flame is going. I scoot back to sit next to Daryl again, gently guiding his body down until his head is resting on my lap.

“C’mere.”

His huge body weighs down on my thigh, but I honestly didn’t care at all. I brushed my fingers through his messy hair, careful to not tug on any knots as i did so. He looked sorta beautiful like this.

Wait what the fuck. My mind started racing. This man was easily forty years old, covered in dirt and sweat and walker blood. Id known him and treated him like a friend for nearly two years now, but now… I treated him as if he was glass. He probably felt like it, broken after standing strong against all the hardship he’s faced his whole life. I knew bits and pieces, how he depended on Merle since he couldn’t rely on his shitty dad. His mom has been gone since he was a child.

I needed to be here for him. He’s become my protector, but I, a young woman, cared for him in a way i hadn’t for anyone else in a long time.

His chest rose and fell peacefully, and I knew he was starting to fall asleep. There wasn’t much to protect us from the elements other than a small wool blanket we’d been sharing for the past few days. I grabbed my bag, and carefully moved his head off my thighs to rest on the bag instead. I stepped around his body and curled up against his chest, making myself little spoon. I grabbed his crossbow, curling that close to my body just in case. I felt his arm swing around me, pulling me just a bit closer than i already was.

“Ya okay here?” He asked, speaking softly into my ear.

“Mhm.” His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes, smiling just a little. What a funny man.

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

[enid-rhees]

Ight so you mentioned about getting high with Enid, and it got me thinking...

Imagine Sophia didn't die. Lydia and Henry are there. And ofc, Carl.

Cept' they're all the same age right. And it's just all TWD teens getting to experience (sorta) typical teenage shit, ykwim?

Just playing silly games together, getting high, getting drunk, teasing Enid and reader, telling eachother some of their secrets, telling ghost stories, etc.

I hope this makes sense lol :)

i’m so in love with this request. Sophia held such a place in my heart :’)) i hope you enjoy! i’m definitely gonna try and do this request justice bc i have a vision in my head that i really wanna adapt into this story. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

warnings: weed & alcohol. one sexual joke. (please smoke and drink responsibly !!!)

A/N: hope you all enjoy! and as always, requests are open! just read pinned to see all rules if you want to request 🫶🏻🫶🏻

“alright!” you shouted, the biggest smile on your face. you held up a case of beer, “guess who managed to sneak into Daryl’s stash?”

everyone cheered, making you laugh. Lydia ran up to you, “how did you manage to do that?!” she asked, looking at you with disbelief. “i have my ways,” you smirked.

you brought the case over to your small circle of friends. Carl, Enid, Sophia, Lydia and Henry. they were all here with you.

you sat next to Enid, pressing a kiss to her cheek as you handed her a bottle. “you practically risked your life for us,” she joked lightly. you shrugged, “i’ll find a new one for him.”

Lydia sat back down next to Henry. you watched with a soft smile as he wrapped his arms over her, kissing her head.

it was rare to have a night like this. so rare in fact that this is the first night you guys were able to finally all be together, acting like nothing bad was just right outside the gates of your home.

Enid tapped your shoulder, when you turned around she held out a handful of joints. your smile grew wider. “you’re the best girlfriend ever, do you know that?”

“i do.” she smiled cheekily. you pushed her shoulder. “guys! Enid brought some joints as well, we all get one each.” you announced. everyone gasped and reached to grab their own.

“this is seriously like, the best night ever.” Carl said, taking a sip of the beer. “i mean, we’ve never gotten to hang out like this together. if you think about it, it’s really the first time we’ve been able to act like… what we actually are. just teens.”

that’s all you guys were. teens who were forced into this broken world at such an early age. none of you got to grow up the way you were supposed to.

everyone was silent for a moment, taking in Carl’s words. “then let’s make the best of tonight.” Henry smiled, holding up his bottle of beer. you all agreed, clinking your bottles together. it felt like a cliche, but that’s what made it even better.

after everyone’s third beer, Carl sighed. “god, i remember the day this shit started.” he sighed. “my… mom rushing to pack my clothes, all of our pictures. before i really knew it, we have a camp by the quarry.”

“that’s where the three of us met.” Sophia said, pointing between you, her and Carl. “you guys met that long ago?” Lydia asked.

you all nodded, “yeah uh, Sophia was with her mom, Carl had his, i uh… lost mine already at that point, but Glenn found me in the woods. brought me back with him to their camp.”

“wow. so you guys have been through like… everything together.” Lydia said. “pretty much. yeah.” Carl chuckled.

at this point, everyone had started to feel the effects of the beer kick in. “okay, let’s play a game.” Enid said, clapping her hands. “if we want to get a true teen experience, we need to play something. like Never Have I Ever.” she said.

“that sounds fun.” you told her, “yeah! lets do it.”

“okay, rules, if you’ve done what someone asks you have to drink. for example, if i asked everyone if you ever fell into a pile of dead walkers and proceeded to stay there for five minutes because you were… comfortable… Y/N would take a drink.”

you stared at her, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back your laugh as everyone roared in laughter around you. “now why would you say that.”

“because you quite literally did that.” she responded. you pushed her shoulder again and took a sip of the beer. “okay, i have one.” you spoke up.

“uh oh.” Carl mumbled.

“never have i ever had a sex dream in front of half our group and proceeded to moan my name for three minutes straight.” Enid’s eyes widened as her face flushed red. “you did what?!” Sophia laughed.

“you are evil.” Enid told you. you smirked and shrugged, “take a sip, sweetheart.”

“okay, okay.” Carl said. you lit your joint, gesturing the lighter towards Enid to silently ask if she wanted hers lit too. she nodded and held out her joint for you to light it.

Carl’s mouth formed into a smirk, “never have i ever been late to a community meeting because i was too busy having sex with my girlfriend at eight in the morning.”

it was silent between the six of you, and then you and Enid slowly took a sip of your beers. “there’s no way.” Lydia said, staring at both of you with shock.

“i’m not appreciating the fact that we’re being targeted.” you said. “you guys started it.” Carl said. “okay, we need to think of something else before they expose everything about us.” Enid laughed, taking a hit from her joint.

“oh, i know what we could do.” Sophia said almost mischievously. “classic sleepover activity. ghost stories.” she proposed.

“oh yes. lets do it!” Lydia said. “i have one. i have literally never stopped thinking about it since it happened. you were there, Henry.” she started.

“remember the abandoned asylum we found?” she asked him. he thought for a moment before his mouth dropped open slightly. “oh yeah! that was so scary.”

everyone had started to light their joints as well, getting prepared for the stories. “it was a few months ago. me and Henry snuck out of Hilltop to just walk around. like how you and Enid do. we ended up at this really scary looking building that turned out to be an asylum.”

“where was it?” you questioned before she continued the story. “i think it was by the Target we used to go to for runs.” she answered.

“but anyways- we walked inside and this place instantly had a vibe to it that clearly was not welcoming. but we went further in anyways. there was this one room that we walked into, and Henry decided he wanted to try and summon something,”

Lydia gave Henry a look as she said that, and he put his hands up in defense, making you all laugh. “tell them what you did.” she told him.

“i uh,” he laughed. “i started to throw insults in the air. like ‘dumbass ghost’ and shit like that. and to be fair, i was pissing it off a lot. but um, after around five minutes i said something along the lines of ‘you’re too scared to face us” or some shit, and precisely two seconds after that, there was a vase that was behind us, it fell over and shattered completely.”

“famous last words.” you joked. “you forgot the other part.” Lydia told him. “the other..? OH!” Henry pulled his sleeve up, showcasing two scratch marks. “that also happened.”

all of your eyes widened, “what?!” Sophia yelled. “it scratched you?!” he nodded, laughing. “yeah, we got the hell out of there after that obviously. but yeah. do not go into that asylum. i can already see Y/N and Enid planning it.”

“oh fuck no. we are not going there.” Enid said, despite your whine. “but it sounds cool!” Enid shook her head, “you’re actually insane.”

everyone started talking amongst themselves, but you couldn’t help but take in all of your surroundings. your best friends sitting in yours and Enid’s house. the one that you owned together, which was something you never thought would ever be possible again.

you’d never thought you’d make it this far, and if you did, you figured you’d be miserable. but you’re not. everything was coming into place so perfectly. having a girlfriend you knew you couldn’t wait to marry, still having Carl and Sophia by your side throughout all of those years in the apocalypse, taking in Henry and saving Lydia. you finally had what you lost so many years ago.

there was no better feeling than the one you felt right now. maybe it was because you were drunk or high, but you wished this sense of euphoria would stay forever. you hoped you could all still be together like this years from now.

“hey,” Enid said softly, nudging your shoulder. “you’re out of it. what’s wrong?” she asked.

you smiled and shook your head. “nothings wrong. i’m just… really happy.” you admitted. “and god i love you. so fucking much.”

Enid giggled, leaning in to kiss your lips. “i love you too, pretty. so, so much.” you hummed against her lips, “wish we can stay like this with everyone forever.”

“then let’s do it.” she said. “it will always be us. forever.”

“forever.” you repeated. “yeah. that sounds good.” you smiled, leaning in to kiss her once more, ignoring everyone’s fake gags and groans.

#enid rhee #enid twd #enid rhee x reader #enid rhee x fem!reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd #carl grimes #sophia peletier #henry sutton #lydia twd

[chaoticalrequiem]

i could look this up on a wiki but you like this guy SO. whats happy chaos like bc i think hes cool (and have an art idea lol)

Oh I don't just like the guy... I am the guy... /j

Okay! So basically, he does whatever he wants! He got that adhd in him and probably has over 50 unfinished art projects! (joking) And, well. His description is literally what you get on the box, bros literally Happy Chaos!

He just goes with the flow and the reason he's here is to cause drama. He seems to just want to do shit for the hell of it. He used to be The Original, the guy that found magic and tried to save humanity, But then he sorta got fused with half of I-no's power and is now Happy Chaos. Also entering the backyard (Super magic land that basically contains all the world's information) fucked with his brain and now he knows everything. Because of this, he has no concept of good or bad, its all equal to him. This is also why his attractions change frequently.

Also he knows everything about magic, since he taught the world abt it. So he's sorta basically God? In a world that runs on magic, he could do practically anything! Though he may seem childish and whatever the fuck he's doing doesn't make sense to others, he planned everything out and hes super fuckin smart, actually. He likes doing whatever the fuck, enjoying the journey rather than the destination. Like in the White house, he just seemed to be chilling for a bit till Daryl did smtg. Oh yeah, he also doesnt have any plans, he finds that an improvised plan works better.

Overall he's just a guy that does whatever the fuck he wants as long as he thinks its funny. He's just a silly guy! Oh yeah I also say he has adhd because, well, his fixiations change often. Oh yeah hes also Irish btw.

#Geez I hope this analysis is good... #mutuals #uniquezombiedestiny #OH YEAH BTW I GOT YOUR OC ASKS IM WORKING ON THAT #asks #bros just like me fr.... #If you read the wiki it says his current attachment is a toy jewel he found somewhere #He's my gender..... #Oh yeah he also helped me deal with my gender dysphoria somehow haha #OH BTW WHEN YOURE DONE WITH THA ART THING THEN SHOW ME PLS

[haruhey]

Mind If I Join You?

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Word count: 13k (i am SO SORRY i got carried away and this fic turned out SO FILTHY but i hit 300 followers so consider this a gift??)

Established Relationship Fluff | Smut

There’s only one bed shower, and Daryl Dixon is an opportunist.

the request:

every single fic of yours is seriously amazing. ur a great writer!! can i request a daryl shower smut bc wooweeeee

There’s always a giddiness inside Daryl when he returns from runs. No more sleeping in the RV for nights on end, no more eating cold canned chicken soup and - as much as he liked Aaron - no more hearing him talk about how much he missed Eric and making him miss you, too. He’s exhausted, his muscles sore from overuse, but the fact that you’re probably curled up in bed makes him so damn excited that all the ailments of his aging body are swiftly forgotten with each step he takes.

Houses fly by in a blur as he ramps up into a jog, his feet taking him to the dim light of a moving lantern in your shared bedroom window. By Daryl’s estimate, it couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11pm, but time meant little in the apocalypse - it was either dark out, or light and with the days getting shorter, he noticed you using the lantern more and more frequently. Just a few days ago, you had fallen asleep curled up on his chest, the soft orange light filling the room before he strained his body trying to turn it off without waking you. The next morning he had a terrible cramp running from his rib up to his bicep, but he never complained. Not even a wince in your presence since he thought the soreness was worth it. He would rather die several times over than lose the image he saw - of your pillowy lips taking soft, steady breaths of air while you slept against his bare skin.

Smiling, he lets himself remember the way you looked when he first gifted it to you, a grin that spread to the apples of your cheeks and crinkled at your eyes plastered on your face. It wasn’t a perfect replica, but it looked close enough to the one you would both light on nightwatches in the prison - which he thinks was when he first realized he loved you. Daryl also remembers the first night he saw you use it, the memory so vivid in his mind that he felt like if he reached out, the soft fabric of your pajamas would welcome his touch.

He could picture it now, your back against the headboard, reading one of the books that littered the shelves he never touches. Your face bathed in the lantern’s hue while your eyes scanned the pages and drinking in every word of whatever you were holding. He plucked that book right out of your hands that night and pulled you onto his lap, kissing the pout off your face until you weren’t annoyed at him anymore, rendered down to just laughing against his lips.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get home and see you again.

Daryl curses under his breath as he fumbles a little with the doorknob, but the profanities are quickly replaced with a huff of accomplishment as he practically sprints to the bedroom, boots shucked off haphazardly at the front door. He skips every other stair with long strides, desperate to feel you in his arms. When he enters the bedroom, he places his crossbow on the dresser and is surprised to see the room as dark as it is, the only source of illumination being the moon as it streams through the windows. The bed is empty and the blankets are strewn to your side, but neither you nor your pajamas are anywhere in sight. Panic flies through him before he registers the unmistakable sounds of the shower running, and he scoffs at himself when he sees the dim orange light peeking from beneath the bathroom door.

Had you known how worried he was for a second, you would have laughed at him. He was already so protective of you before the two of you got together, but it was another level entirely when you both made it official. It wasn’t just losing you to the dead anymore - it was also losing you to other people. Daryl knew you could take care of yourself, he had seen you hold your own on runs in the prison and trips outside the Alexandrian gates, but, God, if anything happened to you he wouldn’t know what to do. Being apart from you once when the Governor attacked was already almost too much for him to handle, but the thought of losing you and having to be okay with the fact you were never going to love him again? That was something he never wanted to experience.

Leaning against the wall, he pulls off his belt and places it next to his crossbow, his vest following not long after. The mattress squeaks slightly when he makes his way over to it and lies down, his body feeling almost instant comfort at the feeling of something other than the hard leather of his bike’s seat. Days like this made him think that maybe you were right in jokingly telling him that his motorcycle was a dumb choice for long runs - his tailbone was probably shaped like a rectangle from how long he’d been sitting on his ass.

A few moments pass as he allows himself to indulge in some rest, eyes closing and already in the first stages of a slumber before he shoots up, pushing himself to the edge of the mattress and sitting straight. Fuck, he needed to shower. He had given you his word that he would. Each time before he fell asleep after a run, he’d said; and Daryl Dixon was not one to break promises. Especially not to you.

Getting off the bed, he sheds his shirt and throws the old fabric onto the dresser, grimacing at the knowledge he would have to scrub at the dried walker blood come morning. His socks are next, pulled off by impatient hands and left on the floor, not even given a second glance as he then pulls open a drawer and grabs a pair of boxers from his meager pile. The only thought in his mind being the feeling of smooth sheets and your body against his skin. He’d pick up his clothes after his shower - if he could even muster up enough energy to.

Step by step, he makes it a good few feet out of the bedroom before he realizes the other second floor bathroom doesn’t work. If his memory served him correct, there were some plumbing issues and, before anyone could buy replacements, the world became, well, what it is now. After all, it was the only reason you and Daryl even took this house - nobody else wanted to have only one shower and, after becoming a couple, sharing one between two people didn’t seem all that bad. At least, that’s what he thought until now. Groaning, he rubs his eyes in an attempt to rub out the fatigue in them before his whole body lights up with an idea. Maybe he could have some fun with this. And if you asked, he could always blame the missing pipe or whatever it was that the Alexandrians couldn’t fix.

Practically thrilled, he mentally pats himself on the back and rushes back to the bedroom. Tired? Not anymore. Daryl can’t be if he wants to fulfill what just popped into his mind. Years of hunting leave his footsteps nearly silent when he enters the bathroom, but he’s not exactly at a disadvantage in terms of noise. The rhythmic beating of water against the tiled floor drowns out the slight squeak of the door as well as the hitching of his breath when he notices the gap. With how the room was designed, just standing at the door led his gaze in a nearly direct line of sight to you, the shower curtain lying an inch or two from the wall and offering him a vision which he doesn’t hesitate to indulge in.

It’s not like he's never seen your body - far from it, actually - but there was something about you that made him hesitate when it came to stuff like this. You deserved sweet and soft, affectionate with declarations of love between his kisses, and while he enjoyed giving that to you, sometimes he wanted something different. Sometimes Daryl wanted to act on impulse - to feel a different type of desperation - and tonight, he wanted to act out one of his long-hidden fantasies. One that involved you on many, many occasions.

Truthfully, he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it since Merle and his buddies showed him that damn VHS as a hormonal high schooler. He never really had a committed girlfriend or anything like that to ever even pluck up the courage to ask, but that fantasy remained like a phantom in the back of his mind, lying just outside his finger’s reach. One that haunts him late at night and renders him withering in his own palm. At least, that was the case. Because he has you now and how he managed that? He didn't know. But he felt confident enough around you and trusted you enough to pursue the desire in him.

A shiver courses through him, running along the tip of his spine when he considers the possibility you might like it as much as him - and if you did, maybe he would divulge to you more of these secrets he’s always kept hidden so well.

With silent movements, Daryl unbuttons and unzips his jeans as he leans against the door of the bathroom, just barely suppressing a groan when his fingers graze the zipper. He curses himself, chastising his sensitivity at the mere image of you doing something as mundane as taking a shower, but he knew it was an inevitable consequence. Ever since the prison, anything you did got him riled up - even just seeing you sitting on his motorcycle made his skin light up with goosebumps. Left in only his boxers, he steps out of the denim pooling at his feet and picks it up, throwing it haphazardly onto the cream coloured counter as he waits for you to take notice of his presence. The metal button clashes against the smooth marble of the vanity, and its noises sound across the room, your eyes opening and your fingers catching the edge of the plastic curtain as you dart your head out, searching for the source.

Your body tenses up, no doubt the experience of living out on the road for so long, but the fighting instinct drains from you the moment you see the affectionate boyish grin playing on Daryl’s lips. It’s barely visible as he stands so far from the meager light source, but it sends an eager smile onto your face. Like all those times he’s returned to you, you want to run to him, feel his arms wrap around you and inhale his scent as you plant those incessant kisses he ‘hated’ everywhere on his face, but that urge only serves to remind you that you’re standing naked in a shower and he’s just staring at you.

“Daryl! What the- I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

Embarrassed, you speak, voice pitched higher than normal from the shock and excitement coursing through your body. However, he stays put, leaning against the door as he drags his eyes up the expanses of skin afforded to him; that is, until you pull the plastic curtain to cover yourself and run your free hand through your hair, tilting your head ever so slightly in order to urge his eyes to meet yours. You wait for his response as you brush the wet strands back from your face, but it never comes, him instead choosing to stride towards you and send you a pout before pulling petulantly at the shower curtain, trying to coax you to let go of it. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, your grip loosens and he can barely hold back his excitement when you really do let go, tongue peeking out for just a second before he hooks his lip between his teeth.

Throughout your relationship with Daryl, you learned he loved looking at you, gawking at and admiring each angle, birthmark and curve until you felt heat flush through your body. Even before the two of you got together, his gaze stuck on you, longing and soft when you weren’t looking, only hardening if your eyes ever met his. Each time he saw you it was like he was still in disbelief that you were his, forever suspended in the wide look he had when you first confessed to him, hence why you didn’t pay much attention to his stare as you moved to pump out some shampoo. You didn’t really know why he was in the bathroom and he made no effort to tell you, but you were here to clean yourself. So that’s what you’ll do. He’ll probably leave sooner or later after making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere, anyways.

The way the light from the lantern bounced off your glistening skin made you look like some sort of goddess. Like an otherworldly being he shouldn’t be looking at. Or like a succubus, sinfully tantalizing, except you didn’t know what you were doing to him as you raked your hands through your hair again, bubbles forming already between your fingers as you scrubbed. Shit, this was way better than he expected, and he’s gladly taking in everything it was offering. Shifting his weight, he clenches and unclenches his fists - commanding himself to keep them at his sides - but then you turn around, allowing the water to rush down your back and his resolve withers away as he tries not to envy the path along which it’s falling.

Soon, the little space between the shower curtain and the ceramic tiling isn’t enough for him. He needs to feel you against him, his trembling hands and suffocating boxers egging him on like this was the first time he’s ever seen you naked. Clearing his throat, he urges himself to move, building his confidence which had seemed to dissipate nearly immediately as you locked eyes with him. What he wanted to do wasn’t sweet or affectionate, and even though he knew you would tell him if you didn’t like it, he just didn’t really want to risk even doing something you didn’t like in the first place.

“Sorry I, uh, I’ll go rinse out my hair somewhere else. Here, I’ll get out so you can-”

This was it. He had to act now or he’ll lose the opportunity. Running his thumb across his bottom lip, he watches as your hand reaches for the shower valve, but your movements and voice stop when Daryl shoots his dominant hand out, the calloused skin wrapping around your wrist in a warmth that makes you snap your gaze to his. While firm, he never applies enough force to hurt you - he knows what kind of men there were in this world, and he didn’t know what he would do if you ever thought of him like that. On the contrary, the feeling of his fingers around you is welcome, especially after what felt like years away from him. Giving him that same inquisitive look, except this time laced with a small smile, you can tell by the way he’s gnawing at his lip that he has something to say. Something that has him hesitating in a way you’ve never really seen him hesitate before, well, besides the first time you both kissed.

“Actually, mind if I join ya? ‘Cause ya see, the other shower don’t work and there’s this girl - my girl - she’s amazin’, but she doesn’t let me into our bed ‘til I shower and I’m damn tired.”

Oh.

Noticing the way you tense up slightly at his suggestion, he offers more, another reason to sway you into accepting as if the pursuit of his little fantasy would both begin and end with what drops from his lips. This definitely felt more daunting, like a much larger leap than him asking for permission to kiss you.

“I also heard showerin’ in pairs saves water.”

Oh.

Yeah, you get why he was hesitating now.

Honestly, Daryl really couldn’t give a fuck about the water he was talking about. What he had in his running mind had little to do with his environmental footprint and more to do with feeling your skin on his and the image of you coming undone for him. He hasn’t been home - been with you - in what felt like weeks, and he thought the generator could stand to work a little harder after running for one person for a few days. With a slight upwards twitch of his eyebrow, you can feel what little apprehension you had leave your body and his heart pounds in his ribcage with the anxiety of what’s to come. At least, he thinks that’s why its beating at 100 miles per hour.

It surely can’t be the residual hormonal anticipation or excitement from his youth.

“And who exactly did you hear that from?”

The slight joking edge to your voice causes him to smile, but it’s a mischievous one, one that holds promises and sends a shiver through your body. Daryl really had no clue what he did to you when he looked at you like that, his piercing blue gaze hitting you as his head tilts down almost sheepishly to the grip he has on you.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a glint residing in them that draws you to look at nothing but him as he runs his thumb along the bone of your wrist. With a tilt of his head, he speaks, muttered as he gnaws once more at his lips and lets go of his hold.

“It matter?”

So nobody, probably.

The amusing thought sends you shaking your head ‘no’ as you smile, pulling open the plastic curtain in invitation while trying to suppress the idea that just popped into your head. Daryl just wants to shower and the only reason he wants to shower with you is to fulfill that promise he had made. Because he just wants to go to sleep. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he’s hopeful that you would be watching him - and he’s fully prepared to make a show of stripping his last piece of fabric - but he’s sorely disappointed when he sees your eyes closed in an attempt to keep the bubbling shampoo from burning at them.

Why weren’t you looking at him? Was he not overt enough?

Wow, he really wasn’t very good with… whatever it is he’s trying to do, huh?

You shuffle forward from the steady stream and he takes that as his cue to step in, gladly placing his body just a few inches from yours and sighing in relief when the water hits his sore muscles. The sounds don’t go unnoticed by you, and your heart sinks a little with each suppressed groan of pain Daryl lets out. He always worked so hard for Alexandria, and they still treated him like somewhat of an outsider, questioning his true intentions with harsh looks when he even so much as walked too close to them. But they didn’t seem to mind him much when they were eating the animals he hunted, though, and that sent your blood boiling.

Turning around, you try not to let your gaze drop too low as you place your hands on his shoulders, frowning when you feel the stiff knots that have burrowed their way underneath his skin. Almost immediately, Daryl submits to your touch, an all too familiar warmth bubbling in his heart as he, too, turns and exposes his scar ridden skin to you, allowing your thumbs to rub circles into his upper back. He always loved this - the domesticity of these moments, the wordless communications, your love and affection directed solely at him - and he’s starting to forget the real reason he crashed your shower in the first place, lulled into relaxation under your nimble fingers and the water beating down on his overworked muscles.

“Does that feel better?”

Your question warrants a response landing somewhere between a grunt and a groan, but then you laugh and he swears his heart swells tenfold. He missed hearing that. Even if you got embarrassed of it sometimes, or hid it muffled behind the palms of your hands, he loved hearing it. Because you glowed when you did, your eyes crinkling up at the corners with a smile that almost always brought him to his knees, and perhaps almost selfishly, the knowledge that he doesn’t want to be away from you any longer dawns on him - as well as the knowledge that it’s inevitable that he has to leave again soon. Whether it be with Aaron or Rick, or some of the poor bastards that piss their pants whenever they see him.

When you stop your ministrations, he feels himself frowning as you tap him once with your thumbs, but he elates almost immediately when you speak promise of a better massage come morning. He’s slightly ashamed of the way his whole body lights up in goosebumps in anticipation, but it’s not unwarranted. Spending late mornings with you was something Daryl never knew how the hell he had lived so long without, and they were his favourite types of mornings by a long shot. Especially when it ended up more often than not with you on him or him on you, the both of you thankful for the misfit house you had all to yourselves and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“You’re too damn good to me.”

But he deserves it, you think to yourself, He deserved to be cared for like this.

His praise drips with a softness he didn’t even know he was capable of until you came along and Daryl turns back around to face you, smirking lopsided when he sees a shy smile worm its way onto your face. He had to have known what he was doing when he said stuff like that - especially when he used a voice like that. Seriously, how long had the two of you been together? It felt like an eternity already, but he could still make you flustered from a simple compliment. Shaking your head, you rest your wrists at the nape of his neck and use the leverage to pull his lips to yours, thumb swiping at the blood dried at his cheek and hoping the distraction of your tongue on his will keep him from teasing the warmth crawling up your neck.

A ‘hm?’ noise falls from him, small and surprised as his eyebrows raise for just a moment before his hands loop around your waist by instinct. When you pull away, another noise falls from Daryl, but this time it’s more disappointed than anything, and he chases your lips with his bottom one jutted out, taking full advantage of the strong arms he has wrapped around you. Holding you in place, his eyes plead with the now perfected ‘one more’ look you’re all too familiar with and you can’t bring yourself to deny him - he knows you can’t. Closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he waits patiently, he hums when you finally kiss him again, his satisfaction vibrating down to the hollow center of your collarbones before begrudgingly letting you go when you pull away again.

The water runs a brownish red from the dried walker blood being washed off his body and he scrubs furiously at his arms, trying to gauge the right move that will get your thighs shaking and your moans bouncing off the ceramic tiles he’s seen less than he’s willing to admit. Should he just… go for it? Just pull you against him and push you up against the walls he wants your noises to echo off of? No, he should come up with a better idea. You deserved a better idea.

Running his thumb along his jaw, Daryl sneaks furtive glances at your body - who the hell he was hiding them from, he didn’t know - and picks even more skin off his chapped lips as he watches you twist at your waist ever so slightly to comb through your hair. Swallowing down his spit like some teenager, he watches your shoulder blades protrude and disappear, intently following the droplets of water as they fall along your neck and down the muscles you’ve developed. He had to hand it to the sorry rich prick who had designed this house because, all things considered, they did a pretty good job; there was just enough spread of it between the two of you to pass as a decent shower. Even if you or him had to oddly angle yourselves to warm a cool patch of skin.

Reaching towards the shampoo bottle, his arm brushes against your waist almost feather-light, but it sends a shiver through you, rattling your ribs and making your cheeks flush all the same. Daryl lingers for a moment longer than you expect, his body leaning as he stretches over and you think he’s going to step forward - wrap you up in him - but dutifully, respectfully, anxiously he stays put. You want his touch, especially after nights alone with only the scent of him on his side of the bed to keep you company, and, having caught a quick glance at his straining boxers before he joined, there’s little room for doubt in your mind that he wants you. But still, it exists.

Your own arms begin to sore when he finally pulls away, his hands now raking through the hair he seemingly never wants to cut. Clearing your throat, you turn around, eyes screwed shut as you face Daryl, fearing for both the shampoo you’re washing out stinging at your eyes and the fact that if you looked at him, your gaze would probably drop. God, was all it took just a few days without him to have you craving him like this? The close proximity coupled with the knowledge he’s standing next to you naked makes you tense up before a shiver runs up your spine, your thoughts causing your breath to hitch for barely a second. Despite your efforts to suppress it, your subconscious prays that he picks up on the little noise. Please let him pick up on it.

And he does, ever observant as he connects the dots, the initially surprised look on his face melting into a small anticipatory smirk before he all but races to lather his hair in the coconut - or was it grapefruit? - scent. This was good. This was damn good.

He dares take a step forward, tentative, testing out the waters as if he was unsure of your desire, but he knows he can read you, and that he can do it well. This was when he should do something, right? The subtle confirmations - a tense, a shiver, a hitching breath - beg him to. Under the streaming shower, Daryl impatiently scrubs at his scalp, teeth hooked permanently atop his lip as he watches the rivulets of watered-down shampoo catch along your skin, his fingers and mouth itching to replicate its path down your neck to your chest. He knows that path well, and perhaps that’s what makes him even more envious.

Thank God for the fact you’ve closed your eyes because if anybody saw Daryl right now, they would take a step back, maybe even several thinking he was angry. How could they not when he was glaring at you as if you had done something horrible? It’s a surprise to him, the fact that it seemed like you really could not feel the burn of his stare, but then a thought pops into his lust-fogged brain. Maybe you did know. And maybe you were toying with him, playing coy and pushing him to a teetering edge, letting him taste the tension on his tongue until he could hold back no more.

To say he’s impatient is an understatement. He isn’t simply impatient, no, he’s impatient. He wants to do something. He wants you to do something, to initiate the flurry of hands and lips he’s craving so desperately and, seemingly blind to that triad of signals, he scrubs frantic at his hair in an attempt to control himself. As he rinses out the shampoo, he manages to cling onto what little restraint he had over his body until you turn back around. It was like the universe was egging him on, trying to break his resolve by showing him those dimples on your lower back, reminding him of the way he gripped them when he took you that night before he left - and it works. Jesus fucking Christ does it work.

Daryl’s body crowds you then, muscular arms wrapped around either side of your waist and rough hands palming at your chest before sliding down to your stomach, pulling you flush into him while he grinds his hips experimentally against your body. The feeling catches you off-guard, eyes widening in surprise as you let out a gasp into the steam of hot water and you grip harshly at his forearm, attempting to steady yourself from the sensations blossoming from your thighs. He can feel them tense and begin to snap closed against him, but you hear the corners of his mouth twitch upwards with satisfaction.

“What- what are you doing?”

Restless, his fingers travel downwards, hooking a strong thigh between your two legs as he ignores your question, them parting immediately to accommodate him. Daryl’s veins thrum with adrenaline, feeling the all too familiar effects of your warm skin when he realizes you’re letting him do this - enjoying him, even - your hands pawing at his to beg him to speed up, to bring you that nirvana he loves to be the reason for. Heat flushes your body, knowing full well what he’s capable of, but despite it, your skin erupts into goosebumps under his touch, desperate for more.

“What’s it look like ‘m doin’?”

Your neck comes under his affection next, his lips meeting it as he mumbles the words against your pulse point, tongue darting out when he feels it speed up. Almost methodically, Daryl finds the marks he’d left days prior, darkening them with unadulterated determination and rolling his hips against you once more. The heavy motion draws a whine from you, short and needy as your nails dig into his wrist and he all but basks in it. God, this felt good. How the hell had he spent so long without you? Without your skin under his? Everything about you feels like a fucking drug to him.

“D-Daryl- what would your girl say.”

He smiles against your neck, a warm pride bubbling in his chest when he hears the slight shake in your voice. It always got like this when he was touching you, and he liked to think it was the anticipation raking through your body. All the possibilities he could bring to you. He loved listening to your voice as it was, but hearing it quaver as it bounced off the ceramic walls, mingled perfectly with the rhythmic thrum of water crashing against the two of you? It was almost alarming how quickly it made his head spin.

Submitting to your urging, he lets you slide his hands down to the apex of your thighs, groaning guttural into your ear when he feels your hips lift and rut into his touch, unintentionally grinding your ass onto his cock when you push yourself back onto him. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, you hear his breaths as he digs his palm an inch below your pelvis, thick fingers gripping harsh at your inner thighs as he nudges his further between them. It feels like fucking magic, whatever he’s doing, and a plea tingles at your lips before you bite it down. Daryl’s never been this bold, and this is new territory for the two of you. Very new. So you were going to let him take his time - let him explore every inch of your skin as if he didn’t already have it memorized - despite the fact every cell in your body screams for you to sink down on him right here and now.

His grip disappears too quickly for your taste, but before you can even register the decadent sear that marks his blunt fingernails and calluses, his palm makes home just below your stomach and he swipes two fingers against you, spreading you for him but avoiding that bundle of nerves you want so desperately for him to touch. An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips as he gathers evidence of your arousal, and the sound of him makes you claw at his wrist, your hands still blanketing his as you try to angle him to do something other than coat his fingers and smear you across your inner thighs. Amused, his middle finger curls, breaching you just until his first joint before pulling away, relishing in the way you clench as if trying to keep him in you.

“Hm, I dunno. What do ya think she’d say? I think she likes it.”

You can hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he feels your body react and you can practically see it behind your closed eyelids. Daryl knows all your buttons, every single movement that renders you down to a puddle of mush, but he’s avoiding them. His jaw clenches and unclenches as you buck your hips up to try and meet the talented fingers only getting further and further and further from you. Skin warm from the streaming water and the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, his left arm snakes upward, resting just under your breasts before pulling your shoulders flush against him. His teeth sneak out from behind his lips, grazing against that spot that made your thighs shake the first time you slept with him, and you become putty in his hands.

A gasp of Daryl’s name falls before a staggered whimper erupts from your throat, his hands moving so fast and sure along your body as if he had molded you to his perfection. Everything hits you at the same time, his sharp canines right below your jaw bone before they melt into the caress of slightly chapped lips, the hand at your chest palming and tweaking and toying like there was no tomorrow, his fingers swirling, nudging at that tiny bundle of nerves you’ve been silently begging him to touch just once, and you can’t stop the noises falling from your lips. No matter how much you try, they escape.

“Or d’ya think she’s too busy moanin’ for me to tell me?”

Oh, that fucking prick.

To make it worse, you can’t even bring yourself to be angry for that long because his voice drops into that low, husky whisper that makes your knees go weak. Had Daryl not essentially smothered you against his body, you just know you would be a puddle, pliable and aching after just a few days away from him. A jolt of pleasure rockets through you the moment you realize what he wants - to make you as desperate as he is for this - and you know he knows exactly how to get it. Biting your lip, you trap your sounds in your throat just to spite him and you dig your fingers into his forearm, seeking in any way to find another outlet for all the compounding stimulation he just keeps giving you.

Your heartbeat drums through your ears and you can barely register the growl against your skin, but the vibration of it is inescapable. He feels the crescent shapes already forming from your nails on his tan skin and he pulls his face from you, breath fanning your ear in preparation to express how disappointed he is at you robbing him of your noises, but you beat him to it, freeing the words that burn at your tongue to knock him off his high-horse. Daryl was never a very confident man, but fuck if it does not make your skin tingle.

“I think she’d tell you to- to shut up.”

The rebuke is futile, a stutter brought on by the push and pull of his deft fingers and he laughs. Daryl chuckles into your skin before everything from him detaches, only for him to grab at your waist and spin you around to face him, adjusting his hold to crowd you once more. Your back hits the ceramic tiles, a sharp whine escaping you at the contrasting cold, and you can see that smirk you had envisioned on his face when you open your eyes, taking in every inch of the swept back hair now falling into his face as he tilts his forehead slowly to yours. Running your non-dominant hand up from his arm to his face, you push the strands back, smiling slightly at the way he melts as his eyelids flutter shut for just a second. As much as he said he hated how damn soft you made him, he sought after your touch, your hands much too intoxicating for him to deny them.

You glow a ring of delicate orange from the lantern shining behind him, the light bouncing off your glistening skin and those sparkling damn eyes that shine with unguarded affection despite your ‘annoyance’ from just moments ago. Creating shadows over your body with his broad figure as he blankets you, Daryl nearly groans with delight at the image - the realization that you look impossibly better with the warm hue making his head spin. And when he remembers that you’re his to love? He tries to hide just how much it makes his mind run, but his voice comes spilling out without much thought, everything about you shrinking the filter between his brain and mouth that he so tenaciously keeps on during the day.

“That so? ‘Cause if I do then I can’t tell ‘er how much I missed her. Or what I was thinkin’ when I thought about ‘er at night.”

Daryl was already so worked up at the thought of doing this to you, you didn’t even need to actually do anything to him to have him throbbing against your stomach, begging to be touched after days of only imagined scenarios to keep him company. So you indulge him, tracing your dominant hand down the V-line of his pelvis and biting your tongue when his hips snap into your grasp, his grip at your waist tightening as he tries to still himself. He wants you to touch him, to let you give him what you want to give him and he tries his damndest to control himself, instead using his words to try and rile you up.

“Nothin’ I do feels as good as her. Nothin’ I’ve tried’s ever been close.”

Your whole body shivers at the insinuation, the ceramic sandwiching you to Daryl ceasing to feel as cold as it did when he first pushed you against it. He feels like centuries have passed when your hand finally wraps around him, running your fingers in a stroke that has him groaning and nearly keeling over you with how much that simple damn action makes heat pool in the pit of his stomach. Everything about this feels heightened, the steam of the shower failing in comparison to the heat pinging between the two of you. His eyes seek yours, cock twitching and catapulting him much farther to his climax than he would like to admit when he sees you watching your grasp, lips parted ever so slightly, pleading with him to lay his on them.

Heart thrumming in his chest, another groan of an expletive followed by your name drops from Daryl before his hips jerk forward, stuttering into your grip with no real rhythm as he pushes a rough kiss onto your mouth. When you let out a little surprised squeal, he pulls himself back immediately, as if shocked by his own lack of self-control, but your hand never stops, and your face leans closer towards his, the feeling of his ruined sounds vibrating along your tongue making you chase him. This must have been how he felt when he had you whimpering for him on those late nights and early mornings. No wonder you both loved them so much.

Twisting your other hand from the side of his neck to his nape, you pull him to you with equal fervor, the stroking of his cock forgotten in favour of his chapped lips turning into something more sinful with each movement of his talented mouth. His fingers begin to wander now, eagerly grasping at the two dimples at your lower back before his palms find all too familiar territory kneading and massaging your ass. Knees nearly buckling, you remember the leaking heaviness twitching in your grip and you nudge him between your thighs, your legs spreading just a bit wider as you inch him closer and closer and closer to where you need it most.

“N-no, wait- I gotta-“

His hands shoot downwards to still yours and he pulls his hips from you, his statement stuttered through a sharp, shaky breath. Whining, you nearly beg for him before you realize he succeeded in what he set out to do - and he was only gone four days, your subconscious chastises. Your head is swimming in desperation for him as you shake it, hair whipping into your face and onto the wall while you vehemently disagree with both his words and your own internal mocking. All coherent thoughts leave your mind, washed away in the stream of water running down your body and you come to the conclusion that you don’t fucking care if he would poke fun at you come morning, you need to feel him.

“Daryl you don’t need to- you can just- I can-“

You don’t need to keep-

You can just-

I can-

God, you sounded pathetic, your voice barely breaking above breathy through the heavy beating of water, and he loves it, it’s enticing him; he could die right now and he would feel nothing but satisfaction. Daryl was never a very confident man - well, with people at least - but around you, he felt wanted. Not just in moments like this when you craved him so debaucherously, but in moments when you would pull close to him while you were sleeping or hug him from the back. Just giving him your affection so freely and not expecting any back. It made his heart damn near break everytime he had to leave. Adjusting his grip on you, he digs his knee into the wall, perching you on either side of him and leaning closer and closer to your burning skin.

“Gotta get ya ready. Jus’- jus’ be a good girl an’ be patient. Don’t want ya limpin’ tomorrow ”

Despite his words, Daryl can’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t be so bad to linger beside you the whole day, a constant reminder of the real reason you needed him to get you things, or why you would grip his arm as a piss poor substitute for a crutch when the two of you walked along the street. Nobody else would know - at least, neither of you would ever tell - but the satisfied puff of his chest and the fact he stands just a little bit prouder might make them connect the dots. That, and the lovebites that creep out from underneath the neckline of your shirt which, coincidentally, only seemed to darken after he came back. Nah, he thinks to himself, it wouldn’t be so damn bad.

“I thought you were tired.”

There’s a hint of concern in your voice, peeking out from between the teasing and he grunts, acknowledging your words before his hands wrap around your wrists and urges them to loop around his neck. He knows he needs to do this, the action a silent beg for you to just relax and let him treat you right in the way you know he always will. With his neck flush in the crooks of your elbows, you tug him, pulling his face to yours and raking your fingers through his wet hair.

“Never too tired for you.”

His stubble scrapes against your nose as he mumbles his confession between kisses down from your forehead, a delicious burn leaving a trail that makes your heart beat impossibly faster between your ribs. Grip falling to your waist, Daryl’s rough fingers inch towards the apex of your thighs, but he moves them so fucking slow you're tempted to just reach down and push them into you like you intended to do with his cock. Before you can entertain the idea any longer, he catches your lips in a clash of tongue and teeth and knowingly smirks against your lips. He’s dedicated, attentive, and what kind of man would have the heart to deny you? He would do anything for you, all you had to do was ask.

Daryl eagerly swallows the moan you let out against his lips when his middle finger curls into you, the vibrations spreading along his tongue and consuming him from the inside out. Your thighs spread wider for him, welcoming him - no, begging him - for more and it riles him up almost comically well. Whether it was intentional or not, he would never know. He pulls his face away just inches, breath heavy against your parted lips before he sends you a small smile, an underlying mischief peeking out from the tiniest sliver of teeth he exposes. Leaning more of his weight onto his knee, his left hand travels around your waist to your ass, digging his dull fingernails into the flesh and pulling towards him, bringing your hips off the cold ceramic and snaking that arm into the curve he’s just created.

Before you can even brace yourself, he pushes a second finger in, curling languid with accelerating speed, revelling in the heat you bring him with an audible groan that reverberates off the shower walls. Already so desperate, the feeling nearly makes your legs shake under your own weight, but Daryl’s prepared - he could keep you up with the hand he has splayed across your upper back and he’s secretly proud of it. His mouth returns to you again, tongue surging to meet yours as if just the taste of your kiss would satisfy his desire to taste what’s beginning to coat down his palm.

It doesn’t, but it’s a damn good substitute.

Nails scratching pathetically at his scalp, your lungs beg for oxygen, but you ignore your body’s pleading for as long as you can. You need Daryl. Just him. Just him. His fingers are ardent, all of them pushing and pulling and toying and touching you in a way that skyrockets you into an overwhelming nirvana and it feels good. It feels so good to be with him again, surrounded by his scent and his heat, that you start to entertain the thought of begging for him. You try to do just that, but every sound coming from your lips is only absorbed greedily by his before you pull him away by his hair, taking large gulps of oxygen as he does the same.

Not even a second passes before you’re grinding down into his palm with pleas falling into the steam of the shower, all your words going straight down to his cock. Gritting his teeth, he growls at your desperation, lips shooting down along your collarbone before catching the skin between teeth. He has your whole body memorized, proof of that fact littered across your body in the form of lovebites, memories seared into your mind of his everything and it’s almost too much to handle. Almost. But you need more. And Daryl knows, much too perceptive in all senses of the word.

His left arm snakes up to your neck, the nape of it secured in a grip firm enough to pull your hips down onto his muscular thigh, spreading you and rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves with his rough skin. Something between a swear and Daryl’s name chokes through your throat and he curls his two fingers just enough for you to repeat the sound, the movement perhaps pulling your hips forwards toward him. With the way you grind down so readily on him, it wasn’t easy to tell whether the roll of your lower body was from his fingers or the lust running through your veins. A satisfied smirk worms its way onto his face that you want to kiss off, but your head is stuck against the ceramic tiling by his hand tugging securely on your hair. Not enough to hurt you. Never enough to hurt you.

He can feel it now, the fact that you’re close, and it only makes him work harder. Maybe it was selfish of him, expediting your pleasure so he can finally seek out his, but he’s damn near shaking with the thought of finally being able to be with you in one of the ways he always wants to be. Sometimes Daryl felt like a teenager with all this certain enthusiasm he can’t seem to control with you around, but you had never complained - you made him feel alive in all the best ways - and he thanked whoever was pulling the strings in his favour for bringing him to you. Circling his thigh, he pushes everything he can up into you, the pressure making you feel like you’re floating. Fingers carding through his hair, your whole body tightens around him in a silent plea, and he's pretty sure he would have to be just about the biggest idiot in existence to ever deny you.

“Give it to me. C’mon, give it to me. Ya wanted my cock didn’t ya? Jus’ give it to me an’ I’ll make ya feel even better.”

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Daryl’s voice makes your mind swim, the growl rough and dangerous like everyone always tends to think he is, and incoherence drops from your lips, echoing against the confines of the walls as his breath fans your ear. Rutting your hips up to his hand, the knot in your abdomen snaps, the proclamation of it escaping you in a broken moan of his name. He can feel your body’s reactions before you start to get those familiar sparking waves of pleasure, the clench of you around him growing sporadic as he continues to unravel you with his teeth gritted, the unrelenting precision of his fingers sending you clawing and tugging at his scalp with no regard of your strength for just a moment.

His groan at the sensations edges out the haze of your climax and you immediately detach from him, pulling your body back from his so abruptly that he slips from you. Scrunching his nose in disappointment, his large hands cling at the back of your thighs, bringing your chest and forehead to his as if he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even just a few seconds.

“Sorry- sorry if that hurt I didn’t mean to-”

Face inches from yours, he shakes his head and cuts you off with a series of hungry pecks. One to your sinfully soft lips, then to the corner of your mouth, then one to your jawbone, devouring your apology right then and there as he overtakes your senses.

“‘S alright. It felt good.”

Then he kisses you again, urgent all the same, but he only pushes a firm brush of his mouth against yours. The movement is like a signature, as if it were his name scribbled easily along at the bottom of a letter - a soft possession that you wear along the tingles of your lips. It makes you claw at him again, tugging on the sides of his hips to pull him flush against you, fingernails digging crescent shapes he wants to see come morning, and your apprehension all but dissolves into the hot water of the shower. You were his, he was yours and in his mind, there was nothing he wanted more than for you to show him just what he does to you.

“Anythin’ ya do feels good.”

It’s stupid, how you could be in the middle of something so intimate and a simple compliment from him could leave you flushed from the neck upwards, but he loves it. He loves the little whimper you let out at his words and he smiles that lopsided boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat. When he smiles at you like that, it makes you feel like the only person in the entire world. No walkers, no Alexandrians, no runs or patients at the infirmary to steal you or him away from the other. There was no one except you and Daryl - and it’s been too damn long since it was like this.

Body flush against yours, he snakes a hand down between his legs and the other grips at your thigh, hooking it around his torso and begging with a roll of his hips for you to rest your leg there. Each breath he takes sends a jolt of pleasure blossoming against your ribs, his skin rubbing against your chest so deliciously it makes your mouth fall open in silent pants of air. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open when Daryl says your name, broken by a curse that falls somewhere after the first letter. He looks good like this - eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

Gritting his teeth, his mouth can barely form a coherent sentence with how much excitement is coursing through him, and he’s trying his fucking best to hold back from slamming into you until you give him a nod or a pull or anything, but then something in him breaks. The feeling of just having you so damn close worms its way into his brain and he takes himself in his fist, dragging along to gather the remnants of your climax and notches himself, all the while groaning from the heat emanating off you.

“‘S this okay? Need t’know if this’s okay.”

Slurred speech. It was so uncharacteristic of the Daryl everyone else knew - the Daryl who was so sure of himself, the Daryl who wore a permanent scowl on his face, the Daryl who was so mysterious, never speaking anything above a growl - and you think you could have laughed had it not been for the fact the words themselves dig up memories of all the times he had said them to you before. Every cell in your body lights up, high alert now that he’s in you, but he’s not moving. He’s not inching into you or filling you in the only way he can and you push your hips towards him, greedy movements making you swallow more of him. Taking a sharp breath, he lets you rut against him, but still, he doesn’t fucking move.

“God, Daryl- yes. Yes, it’s okay. More- more than okay.”

Sometimes you hated him, and then hated how stupid you felt for hating him.

He waits for your words. He always does. Without fail he checks on you before he slides into you. He never wants to take because he always wants to be good for you, but sometimes you wish he would. Sometimes you wish he would just take from you - take everything you have. There is nothing in this world that is not shared between the two of you. Daryl’s wholly yours as you are wholly his.

Curses drop from his lips, your name thrown in once or twice as if he’s reminding himself you’re real as he feels you around him. They fly out of his mouth like the bolts from his crossbow and ricochet off every wall as he begins to move, slow at first, experimental maybe with his hand secure against your thigh, then he starts building and building into a heavy, sinful rhythm. Shakily, Daryl groans, the breath he lets out tendrilling at your chin before he sucks frantically at your bottom lip, your noises meeting his as they hit the ceramic wall.

He wants to live in this moment forever; immortalize the way you look and sound on one of those VHSes, write the damn date on it, and hide it away for his and your eyes only so it’s rewatchable and revisitable and reliveable. It's not enough to just sear you into his memory like he’s done so many times before because you’re damn near perfect. Like you were made for him - for him to give you everything he wants to give to you.

“Fuck- fuck- you feel better’n I remembered. How’s‘at possible?”

The words escape him, rushing out as if you’ve put a spell on him, and they almost escape you, too, your pulse beating in your ears. But he’s so close to you, growling out through gritted teeth into your ear and pushing his lips to the curve of your jawbone like they need to be on your skin. He pulls his body away, chest leaving yours, and you pull at his waist to bring him back, whining lewd for him and only him, shameless and betraying the blush you feel as you register his stutters, but he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl smiles, that same damn grin with his teeth hooked along his bottom lip and eyes hooded as he watches every change in expression. You groan, half in the way he rolls his pelvis just enough to rub against that small bundle of nerves that beg for him, and half in annoyance at the way that lascivious expression seems to make every electron in you buzz.

“Shut- shut up.”

He lets out a sharp breath, a singular amused ‘ha’ following it, cock hardening and twitching even more at the fact he’s making you blush like that first night he had lavished every inch of your body with his lips - like you didn’t deserve every single damn word escaping from him. Leaning his weight against his left forearm that lies on the side of your head, Daryl brings his face to yours, nipping at your lips and seeking your tongue before he starts speaking.

“You should see yourself like this, y’know. Fuckin’ perfect for me.”

For a man who only ever growls and mutters, he certainly liked to talk a lot when he was pounding into you the way only he knows how and you’re just so damn unbelievable for him. For him. You’re his to love and it sparks something within in him that makes his tongue fucking run and his hips speed up involuntarily. Hell, you probably heard more of his voice in this shower tryst than the whole first nightwatch you had with him. You’re not even sure the water is beating down onto you anymore because the heat of your body makes the shower pale in comparison.

The sweat accumulating on his back and chest and everywhere is washed away almost immediately as it forms and you’re grasping for something to hold onto. Clawing, you wrap both your arms under and around his shoulders and scratch desperately at his back, grinding up against him and making jumbled noises of moans and Daryl’s name when he drags against that spot he knows so well. It’s skin on skin, the ceramic wall ceasing to feel cold as you screw your eyes shut and let yourself mount and mount with each roll of his hips. You hear a nearly feral growl, feeling your leg being hiked up higher by the elbow hooked underneath your thigh, and a loud noise breaks from your throat when his thumb swipes where his cock meets you.

“C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

You’re close and he knows it. It was like he was rubbing it in your face, the fact he could make you like this - how quickly he could reduce you into the incoherent, ruined state you always seemed to become for him. Attentive. He’s always attentive. You can tell by the way he’s memorized everything that makes you shake and capitalizes on them, thrusts coupled with the tight circles pulling you closer and closer to that precipice of pleasure, but he says those words anyways, hoping to get a reaction from you. Daryl’s not an impatient lover - he would spend hours buried in you if you let him - but he’s so damn close and perhaps almost selfishly, he wants to watch you succumb first. He wants to watch the water race down your body as you writhe for him against the wall, and he wants that to send him over the edge.

“Then- then do better, Daryl.”

You bite back, your breath grazing against his neck and a wet heat rushes through him, making him groan nearly wrecked as his hair tickles your cheek. Reaching behind his muscular body to his shoulder blades, one of his large hands is more than enough to wrap around both of your wrists and he takes them in his grasp, moving them until they’re secure against the ceramic wall behind you. You’re warm for him. Pliable for him despite the veil of distaste in your voice and he can’t get enough of it.

Daryl’s so fucking happy you bite back.

His hips stop and you let out an almost childish cry, but he stays buried deep, filling you up to the brim as the water beats down on the both of you and holding you against the tiles by the weight he’s pressing from where you meld to him. His face is so close to your ear now. So much so that you can feel the breath when he speaks, a dangerous growl resounding through your body before his teeth graze along your neck.

“Hm? I ain’t never heard a complaint from you be- before. That a- fuck- are ya challengin’ me?”

An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips when you clench around him, no doubt from the sudden crash of your mounting pleasure, and he pushes impossibly further into you, firmly pinning you down until he knows you won’t be able to move anymore. He wants to show you he can stop at any moment, that he can make you work for it, but you both know he’ll give in. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of which you have him wrapped around your finger, but if you even knew half of it, you would know he would never stop. Not when he was so desperate for you he can barely think of anything except the way you look and feel. At least, not unless you wanted him to.

“Are you g-gonna take it up?”

Although your mouth ceases there, your brain runs, pleas tickling at the tip of your tongue, but you can barely manage to form the meager few syllables that have already escaped you. Eyebrows knotted at your forehead, you try desperately to coax more movement from him - a whine, a whimper, a thrash of your pinned hands flattened by his strong grip - but Daryl’s so damn still and it’s driving you crazy. When your body settles for only ragged breathing and shaking thighs, he takes it as his cue to lean down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s so affectionate you forget that, just moments ago, he was relentlessly pounding into you.

“Don’t know. Seems like you might be wantin’ it more’n me.”

Smiling against your mouth, he pulls away just enough to speak. A challenge in his words so obvious to you that you try in vain to buck your hips to his. If he didn’t sound so good and look so good and feel so damn good, you would have denied it, but you’re strung so taut, so close to the peak, that you can barely form a retort. A stupid, handsome smirk rests on his lips as he waits. Patient. Like it wasn’t affecting him, being buried in you. He’s just waiting for your words - goading you as he watches from underneath his lashes.

“Daryl, I swear to God if you stop right-“

The insincere threat is enough to spur him into action. Partly due to the fact you sound so desperate and ruined for him, and partly because he just needs to feel you again - he would lay you down and take you the way you deserved on the bed come morning, but right now was a different matter entirely. Swearing, his smirk drops in favour of a scowl, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he snaps up into you in quick succession. The hand at your thigh is roaming now, massaging and palming wherever his nimble fingers can worm their way onto before it splays across your ass, using the grip to pull your body impossibly closer to his. Daryl would have made you beg for him - he wanted to - but he can’t stop himself. Not when you look so pretty up against the wall and you’re taking his cock so well.

“Been gone four days an’ you’re already so damn needy.”

Whether that statement was directed at you or himself, you would never know.

An abashed whimper escapes through you and you want to deny it, perhaps just to see what would happen, but you can’t. You can’t because Daryl’s right. He knows he is, and you know he is. You thrash your arms so you can touch him, feel his skin underneath your fingers, but his grip around your wrists keeps you firm against the ceramic tiling - just enough to keep you pinned so he can admire the way you squirm for him. Grunts and groans of your name escape from him with each thrust, the feeling of your body melded to his much too intoxicating for him to keep his mouth shut.

“What, you embarrassed now? Wanna cover your mouth? Keep them noises from me when you’re soundin’ so damn pretty? Ya better not be thinkin’ about it. ‘Cause ya damn well ain’t gotta.”

Daryl tilts his head, eyes squinting in faux-concern and mocking you as his hips relentlessly hit up into yours, pushing out the breath from your lungs which escape in tantalizing gasps with each roll. You’re so close, and the only thing you can do is moan at the sound of his rough voice, the coil tightening in your abdomen because of his determined thrusts. You just need a little more - just a little more - and he reads you like a book.

Without warning, the hand pinning your wrists frees itself, his finger pinpointing back between your thighs with an unadulterated eagerness to pull your climax from you and you damn near cry out Daryl’s name as you claw at his back. It’s like second nature to him, the way he can touch you and make you crumble for him. Practice does make perfect, and he’s always been a persistent man.

“Ya sure as hell weren’t when you were bein’ a brat.”

Everything he’s doing to you is almost effortless. It makes your legs shake and without warning, your thighs tense up, a white hot surge of pleasure erupting from the base of your stomach and you gasp a broken moan of Daryl’s name as you clutch at his neck in an effort to keep yourself from collapsing onto him. He holds you close, chest pushed up to yours and breathing ruined into your ear as he works you through your climax with dextrous fingers, chasing his own as his rhythm begins to falter. Sporadic thrusts meet each flutter of your clenching warmth. until he can’t hold out anymore.

Screwing his eyes shut, a stuttered chanting of profanities mixed in perfectly with pleads of your name fan out from his mouth and he pulls out, rubbing himself harsh against your thigh before your fingers wrap around his cock. Fuck, Daryl nearly crumbles right then and there, a ragged groan rushing from him before his hips jerk upwards to your touch - nothing could even compare to it and he thinks nothing could ever come close. Nothing except you. Pulsing in your grasp, both of his rough hands dig into either of your thighs and he stills, teeth gritted as the evidence of his pleasure hits your stomach before being washed away in the steady stream of water.

Satisfied, you smile and lean towards him, your head coming off the ceramic wall, and he parts his lips immediately for your tongue, but you pull away after giving him a quick peck. Scrunching his nose, Daryl pats lightly at your thigh for your attention and seeks your lips once more, moving his with the same amount of overwhelming love and affection he always does. It makes you feel warm inside, like you were the only one in the world for him. And you were. At least, in his mind you were.

He releases the grip he has on your thigh and slowly lowers it, his hand still ghosting close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Both legs still shaking slightly, your foot hits the floor of the shower and you lean your weight on it, tentative and experimentally at first before you overestimate its security and half-fall-half-stumble into him. Daryl notices, of course he does, and he swallows down the pride welling in his chest as his sure grasp steadies you against his body.  

“Hey, hey, I got ya. Jus’- jus’- I got ya.”

By instinct, he speaks, the rumble of his chest against yours making your heart well up with the familiar fondness you always experience when it comes to him. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words even though you had managed to break him out of his shell a little - at least with you - but there was no doubt in your mind that he genuinely and wholeheartedly cared about you. In his eyes, you had strung the stars into the sky and he always treated you with a softness he never thought himself capable of.

With one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, you use Daryl as a crutch, continuing to lean your weight on your legs until they cease to shake. When you can stand on your own, albeit with wobbly legs, you link your fingers in both of his and meet his protective gaze - alert as if prepared to catch you again if your body gave any type of signal. He smiles when he sees the expression on your face and brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto the back of each of your hands before letting go and reaching for the bar of soap you two had ignored in exchange for something more riveting.

“Here, let me- I’ll help ya wash up.”

It meets your shoulder and it’s cold as he trails it down, lathering your right arm before moving across your chest and to your left. Smiling at his concern, you hum, nodding your head and content at the feeling of his tenderness as he continues to dutifully run the suds down along your body. Daryl unabashedly goes about copping a feel or two when his hand just so happens to fall onto your chest or your ass, a boyish grin meeting your quirked eyebrow when you question his intentions with a look. If you actually, truly cared to ask him, he would say he was helping you wash your body and making sure he was doing it to the best of his ability - quality assurance or some shit like that.

He helps you lather, too, calloused fingers rubbing off dead skin much better than yours could as he focuses the showerhead on him. You laugh when he pulls you into him, water streaming down your body along with his hands as the bubbles wash off your body and you run the bar of soap along the broad expanse of his shoulders, doing your fair share of subtle… touching too. Daryl all but melts into your caring hands, revelling in the way your attention is solely focused on him before he grunts, as if signalling you to look at him. When you do, his hands loop around your waist, head tilted to one side as he gingerly rubs those little shapes he always love to draw onto your skin.

“Y’alright? Was, uh, was that alright, I mean.”

Allowing you to maneuver him under the shower, he begrudgingly lets go of you to rinse off all the soap and feels genuinely clean for the first time in what felt like days. Smiling, you respond, saluting playfully and laying a small peck onto the corner of his lips before you spin around, pulling the curtain open just enough to reach for the towel lying just a few inches away on the towel rack but still keeping the warmth from the water in.  

“Yes, sir!”

His cock twitches at the name, betraying the slur of fatigue in his voice and he sighs at himself, turning the shower knob off and opening the curtain fully, reaching for his own towel that hangs next to yours. He always did feel like a teenager when it came to you, and usually he didn’t mind it, but he really was tired before this and his back is killing him, so maybe another time.

Drying your body, you turn your head towards him and smile before making quick work of your wet hair and stepping out, pulling your underwear on from where you left it on the bathroom counter. It’s a small smile, one fully innocent and only ever reserved for him, but that look makes your words replay in his mind. A shudder runs through him as he tries to ease a smile onto his face too, admiring the scene of you for a moment. It’s domesticity, showing him a homelife he could actually feel loved and safe in; reminding Daryl something like that actually existed for him.

He imagines meeting you in a different world, wooing you like you deserved through coffee dates and Radiohead concerts, not through killing reanimated corpses or guarding Alexandria’s walls together, and his whole body calms down.

But then you pull on a shirt that’s much too big for you - one of his shirts that you said you liked wearing because it smelled like him - and he swallows his spit as if he hadn’t seen you naked just moments ago, a familiar shudder running through him again. Definitely another time. Near future, preferably.

Hopefully.

“You coming?”

Your voice breaks Daryl out of his daydream and he grunts an answer, smirking at the joke that just popped into his head as he replies with a curt ‘I just did’ and catches the pair of boxers you throw at him in response. Rolling your eyes, you comb your fingers through your hair and try to dry it as much as you can with the towel before reaching for your toothbrush. He follows suit, dressed in only his boxers as he brushes his teeth and shakes his wet hair at you like a dog, causing you to whip water at him off your fingertips after you wash off the excess toothpaste dribbling at the corners of your mouth. Smiling internally, he spits, tasting mint on his tongue that he'd much rather replace with the taste of your lips, even though he knows full well you’re just as minty as he is.

“Thank you.”

Meeting his eye in the mirror, you give him a confused look, eyebrows raised in an expression he thought was much too cute on your face for your own good. Your hands don’t still as you continue to rub out the water in your hair, determined not to go to bed with it too wet and risking it to clump up and dry tangled.

“For lettin’ me, uh, do that.”

His naturally gravelly voice clears up, turning slightly more timid than you were used to and you notice the shift in his behaviour. He avoids your gaze, waiting for your response as he fiddles with the lantern he now has in his grasp, unsure of what you would say and you decide your hair is dry enough. Hanging your towel back onto the rack next to his, you grab his free hand and lead the two of you back towards the bed, smiling affectionately as you turn off the lightsource and place it onto the nightstand. Wide-eyed, Daryl stares at you, as if waiting for you to tell him to leave - that you hated what he had done - but you break him from that train of thought as you slip under the covers and welcome him to join you.

Relief washes over him and he happily climbs in, groaning at the feeling of your body next to his and he succumbs to the comfort of the mattress. Pushing yourself into his side, his arms automatically open for you and he swears he could cry when you brush your thumb against his cheekbone and lean up to him.

“Anything for you.”

He feels the words as you whisper them just inches away from his lips, and he relishes in them when you pull away from the quick peck and dig your face into your pillow, closing your eyes and just looking so at peace. You’re so close to him Daryl’s in awe and he can’t help but stare. Wanting to hold onto the feeling of his skin a little longer, your finger draws a little heart over where his beats in his chest and you speak again, voice so warm and sincere.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. That’s what it is to him now, too.

“Glad ‘m home too.”

With a final kiss laid on your forehead, Daryl echoes your statement and pulls your body closer into his. A small smile tugs at his lips and his arm slings lazily at your waist before he, too, closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the lull of sleep.

It was good to be back.

Back to a home he had made with you.

──── ⋙ 

@daryldixonluv @pulplorrd @fuseburner @hells-mistress @maria--grey-blog @marylimlp @pncnsc @tinachristeen @hail-yourselves @whimsicallymad @just-always-tired​ @phoenixblack89​

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[imaginesfor-thesoul]

title: “seeking solace” (Daryl Dixon imagine)

characters: reader x daryl dixon, rick grimes

word count: 1.1k

warnings: sad stuff, swearing, death, fluff, i’m low-key just writing this bc i’m hella sad and need summat like this lol

:: :: ::

You still lie awake upon your make-shift bed. Your eyes ached. Your throat raw. It still does’t feel real enough for you to just get up and move on. You just lie there with an empty head and a worn out spirit.

“I’m so tired. So fucking tired of all of this.” you thought.

You felt so alone. In your room, all by yourself. No one had dared to bother you, not after what happened. 

It had all felt like it happened in slow motion though so quick. It seems cliche but it’s true. One second everything was fine. Everyone was fine. Some were even laughing. Finding something to laugh about in this day and age was something you treasure. The next second, however, bullets were piercing through your sister, brother, neighbor and almost everyone else in your group who went out on the goddamn run.

Out of 17, 3 people came back. Out of the 3 who came back, 1 made it through the night.

You were only grazed on your left side. Internally though, you could be declared dead in the morning. It felt like all you had left was your best friend, Daryl.

He was on a different run that day and he still hasn’t returned. He doesn’t know what happened. He’s the only person that you really feel like you need to see right now.

:: :: ::

Daryl’s POV

The sun was beating down on my back as I drove my motorcycle down the side-street which lead to Alexandria. I approached the opening gates slowly and sighed once I finally parked up.

After dropping off the supplies, I start to head towards (y/n)’s place when Rick steps in my way.

I give a small smile “Hey Rick, how are ya’?” I ask, confused as to why he's blocking my path.

I look into his downcast eyes. Somethings wrong.”Daryl listen, something happened while you were away. It’s about (y/n)...” He trails off.

My whole body immediately tenses up as my mind races with the worst. 

“W-well? Go on would ya’?” I ask, my voice coming out shakier than intended.

Rick sighs. “While she was out on a run, her group was attacked.” 

My breath hitches in my throat as Rick proceeds. “We lost 16 of ours... (y/n) was the only one who made it out.”

I slowly start to feel myself breathe again. “Who did we lose?”

“(y/n) lost everyone. Her sister, brother, everyone close. We also lost...” Rick continues to list off fallen members of out community. My heart aches with each named mentioned yet (y/n) lingers in my mind. 

I’ve got to go see her.

Once I was finished with Rick he gave me a pat on the shoulder as I started to make my way to (y/n).

I make to her room. I knock on the door three times, but after hearing no response I start to creak the door open.

:: :: ::

Regular POV again

You lay stiff under your blankets. You heard the knocks, but you figured if you didn’t say anything then they would just leave, but to your surprise, the door handle starts to turn and the door inches open.

You turn your heavy head to your left to see who the perp was. A wave of relief went through your body as your dry eyes met your best friends icy ones.

“Oh (y/n)” Daryl said, falling to his knees at your bedside, extending his hand for you to hold.

“(y/n) I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. If i’d known i’dev-”

“You’re here now.” You cut him off. Your voice was hoarse from lack of use and amount of tears.

His heart broke hearing you speak. You didn’t deserve this. No one does. 

You let go of his hand to pat the bedding next to you, as if to ask him to join you in your misery. 

Daryl is quick to respond as he kicks off his boots and slides under the blanket with you. His arms are quick to wrap around you.

Now when any old person meets the infamous archer, the adjectives: soft, caring, gentle, don’t normally come to mind. But somehow when the two of you found each other in this fucked up day and age, something inside of him switched. 

The two of you instantly connected. You would share your sorrows, enjoy laughs together and somewhere along the road, you both found yourself falling for each other. Not that you’d ever admit that to each other.

You immediately settled into his arms as your bottom lip quivered. You had missed him while he was gone. You miss everyone. You’d been going through this all alone, and now that he was here, your best friend, the love of your life, you could feel your tense body finally start to ease up.

You could breathe again.

You drape your free arm around Daryl and look up into his gentle eyes as his fingers gently traced circles along your back and shoulders and find their way to start playing with your hair. 

“You’re all i’ve got, Dixon.” You manage to say.

Daryls grip on your tightens. Your head now resting on his chest. “I love you, (y/l/n).”

Your heart falls to the bottom of your stomach. 

A tear slides down your face and onto his chest. “I love you too.” You practically whisper.

The two of you, intertwined lay there for quite a while. Soon enough, you could start to see the sunsetting through the window.

The lowering sun created a golden glow in the room. Everything seemed to glitter. A warm feeling was starting to return in your heart, one you hadn’t felt in days.

 And it seems Daryl felt the same as he squeezed your hand before whispering into your hair. “Everything’s gonna be okay (y/n)...we’re gonna get through this, you and I. I’ll be with you as long as you’ll have me.”

And in that moment, in the golden glow, in the arms of the love of your life, it really started to feel like that could actually be possibility. 

:: :: ::

(a/n) wow i’m damaged haha. please let me know if you liked it! feedback is appreciated xxx

#The Walking Dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #twd #twd imagine #twd negan #imagine #imagines #x reader

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

3+ A Crossbow is A Good Idea, 5+Anamchra & 7+Anamchra, A Crossbow Is A Good Idea and Right Before Our Eyes. :)

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

We carried Daryl back to camp."Oh my god! Oh my god is he dead?" Andrea sobbed as Rick and Shane passed her."Unconscious.You just grazed him." Rick answered.They stopped so Hershel could look him over quickly.I glared daggers at Andrea."Your fault." I said softly but it made everyone go silent.Everyone looked at me."What?" Andrea asked softly."It's your fault.He wouldn't be unconscious and even closer to death if you didn't shoot at him! Rick told you not to take the shot! But of course,oh no,Andrea has to be different.She has to prove herself to everyone because even you doubt yourself too.Daryl's just so lucky you're a shitty fucking shot! Because of you he could have died!" I yelled,raising Daryl's loaded crossbow to her head.Glen and Dale ran over to me with T-Dog on my other side."Scarlet,don't." Dale said,watching us."Daryl is fine.He's alive.I know you're scared of losing him.Hell,I watched you practically pulling your hair out all day over it.Killing Andrea wouldn't do anything." Dale said,touching my arm.I wanted to kill her.She almost took away a person I cared about.My family,I couldn't blame anyone but myself for.Daryl,I could blame her for.I couldn't lose anyone else..not now.Not when I just found someone who didn't make me feel so alone.My arms were shaking with rage and adrenalin.I lowered the crossbow.Glen tried to take it but I held it away from him and he backed off.I got in Andrea's face."You ever think about firing a gun again,think back at what you're firing at.If he doesn't make it,you and I are playing cat and mouse." I said quietly to her,venom dripping from my voice.I slung Daryl's crossbow on my back and went to the house,helping them get Daryl inside.

*Sorry for like no grammar here woops*

5: What part was hardest to write?

We haven’t gotten far into this one and I know there will be harder parts to write but probably the part when Lex is first meeting Murphy in the bar and the whole fight scene that follows. Mostly because...I’m a lunatic who when writing a fic following a tv show or movie (yes this includes Crossbow’s a Good Idea and Right Before Our Eyes) I will watch the tv/film and be pausing every few seconds to write exactly what’s going on save for some editing bc OC is in there. Also writing fighting scenes isn’t always easy. This is also why I take forever sometimes to write a fic bc I sit and get every little detail.

7: Where did the title come from?

Here is some mind blowing shit,ya ready? Crossbow’s a Good Idea comes from...the fact that a crossbow is a good idea. Also that’s the first thing Scarlet ever says to Daryl.

Mindblowing shit number two, Right Before Our Eyes I just came up with off the top of my head. I thought it sounded nice but also bc in TWD shit happens so fast and they see so many fucked up things right in their faces. Also playing on the fact of like right before our eyes two badasses are falling for each other and can’t understand it bc emotions.

Last and probably the most creative? Anamchara. Well,it’s Irish Gaelic. While some sites will say Anamchara means ‘soulmate’ it actually more translates to ‘soul friend’ as in someone you have a lot in common with but aren’t necessarily romantic with. In this case,Lex and Murph are more soulmates but I wanted to use Gaelic in the title so...here we are. (p.s I was missing an ‘a’ in said spellings.woops)

[vizhi0n]

Sundown - Part 6 (Alt Ending)

If you haven’t finished Sundown - because I kno some of ya have it queued up for later - ignore this and come back bc ya know spoilers (i feel awkward for saying spoilers for my own story lmfao) 

Masterlist

Well, bc I’m a sack of ass and felt bad for brutally murdering off you-know-who in the last part, I thought I’d indulge myself in another chapter where stuff actually doesn’t end up shitty for Negan. I guess, in a way, the ending felt too rushed and I feel like I always kill off my OC’s. But yeah, this isn’t necessarily “part of the story” but just an alternate as to what could have happened had I not been an asshole. Anywho, enjoy!

Warnings: just some violence and a fuckton of cursing and dick references. my aesthetic 

Homies: @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @lucifers-trash-stash @i-am-negan-trash @crzcorgi @superprincesspea @strangersangel9 @hannibalssweaters @heartfulloffandoms @negans-network @jasoncrouse @genevievedarcygranger @kijilinn @my-achilles--heel @alyisdead @rickydillon @backseat-negan @wolfhart18 @gremlinfuck @ladylorelitanyfanfiction @kellyn1604 @manawhaat @fairytale07 @fxcking-negan @lovingzombiechaos

I opened my eyes.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

My ribcage hurt like a bitch. Like I’d been hit by a car. No, like I’d been hit by two cars, and then ran over repeatedly by a fire truck.

I sat up anyway, one eye squeezed shut as I surveyed my surroundings. I sure as hell was alive — I recognized the shitty walls of the Sanctuary, the crisp smell of rubbing alcohol. My eyes began following a dizzying light as it flashed back and forth before my vision.

“There you go. Follow the light — doesn’t seem like she’s to badly concussed. Not anymore.”

“You fucking sure about that, doc?”

Oh, jeez.

I groaned, my eyes finally fully adjusting. Negan was sitting in a chair, nestled in the corner. Harlan Carson — the Hilltop’s doctor — was leaning over me, lips pressed into a thin line. I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing. His face seemed expressionless.

“I’m alive?”

“Barely,” Negan grunted. He looked pissed. “Regina put you in a fucking coma.”

My mouth felt dry. I swallowed, nodding at Carson. He hurried away, returning with a bottle of water. He had to help me drink — my arms were to weak to really even lift the bottle to my lips. The entire time Negan watched, dark circles under his eyes pronounced.

After taking several gulps, I said to Negan, “How’s your leg?”

“Been better. I don’t really fucking mind.”

Harlan and I glanced at each other, a bit put off by his dismissive attitude. Harlan looked as if he wanted to say something, eyes raking over my injured form. He recognized me, I knew. I could see it in his gaze. He wasn’t stupid enough to point it out to Negan, however.

“You should be good for now,” Harlan said softly. “Take it easy. Don’t push yourself.”

“Thank you,” I squeezed Harlan’s arm, smiling. Negan watched the exchange before standing, brushing past Harlan as he exited the room. He regarded me with a cool, almost hesitant smile. It was a warm smile, though, the facade he’d been holding disappearing.

“We’re alive. Both of us,” I let out a shaky laugh. “I can’t believe we pulled that shit off.”

“Not to bad for someone with a busted fucking leg, huh?” Negan chuckled, taking a seat next to me on the bed. “Simon and I had a long fucking chat. He’ll apologize. Eventually.”

I absently rested my head against Negan’s shoulder, trying my best not to drift off to sleep. I was even more difficult when Negan softly moved from under me, maneuvering my body so I could lay more comfortably on the bed.

“You don’t have to stay awake.”

“Stay,” I murmured.

“I fucking can’t. I want to, but I have shit to deal with. This whole fucking compound is surrounded,” Negan sounded bitter. “Nobody gets in, or out.”

“Let me help—”

“No,” Negan said firmly. “Stay here. You got two fucking bullets put in you. The last fucking thing we need is for you to get bit.”

“I won’t. I’m a ninja,” I gave a bubbly laugh, peering at Negan through half closed eyes. I wasn’t expecting him to lean down and press his lips against my forehead, but he did, leaving without another word.

I slept for two more days. I was only awake to eat, piss, and occasionally talk to Negan while working on becoming steadier on my feet. The situation outside hadn’t gotten any better. Even if I’d wanted to leave and head back to Rick, I couldn’t.

I was basically stuck with the Saviors. That bothered me only because some of Negan’s men hadn’t taken to kindly to me being spared and not killed or thrown into a cell.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Arat was the one bringing me food this time. I recognized her from Alexandria — I’d watched her blow Olivia’s brains out from the top floor of my town house. Needless to say, I had no intention of getting along with her.

You had no attention of getting along with Negan, either.

Now look where you are.

“I don’t really have a choice,” I replied, taking the tray of food and setting it on the nightstand. I expected Arat to leave after that, but she didn’t. Instead she leaned against the doorframe, analyzing me with a piercing gaze that, quite frankly, made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“I’m just saying what everyone else thinks. You’re an outsider. It’s weird that Negan threw Regina out a window for you.”

“Ya’ll two were friends? You and Regina?” I said through a mouthful of food. “Shit. Sorry, dude. Lady was hella trigger happy.”

Arat glared. She made a noise of disgust, promptly leaving before I could say anything else.

Nice social skills, Rachel.

For all you know she and Regina could have been fucking!

The next day was when I finally mustered up the strength to leave the room. I’d been cooped up for a week, my only company being Negan, Arat, and occasionally Harlan Carson. I had yet to see Eugene or Dwight — I had a feeling both men were avoiding me. They had to know that I was here. Negan had made a big scene out of tossing Regina into the sea of the undead, and I assumed the news had spread like wildfire.    

I still wasn't trusted to walk around without some sort of supervision, so I’d been assigned a, to put it loosely, babysitter. The man didn’t talk much, and when he did, it seemed to be in grunts or nods. Reminded me of Daryl, in a way.

One of the only times I was left alone was to shower, however, this time when I exited, hair still dripping and dressed in an oversized sweatshirt that I suspect had once belonged to Negan, my babysitter was gone and instead Simon was waiting.

He was way taller up close.  And muscular He practically had to bend his neck to look at me, and I felt increasingly self conscious and a bit scared. We were alone. I had no weapon. Was he here to execute me? Kill me in one of the showers so I didn’t get blood everywhere?

Or maybe he was here to apologize. Maybe. I’d almost forgotten that he and Negan had gotten into it over that little…incident.

We stared at each other. There was an awkward silence in the air as we waited for the other to speak. Finally, Simon gave in, pinching the bridge of his nose and saying, “I’m sorry about what I did. It was rude of me.”

“Um, apology accepted? Have you been standing out here the whole time?”

Simon shrugged. He looked around, before admitting, “I guess. I thought it was only going to be a minute, but you take long showers.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I’m escorting you to you to Negan’s room,” I could hear the annoyance dripping from Simon’s voice. “As part of my ‘apology.’ He wants us to ‘bond.’ For the ‘better good of the community.’”

“Why are you putting air quotes around those words? It makes you look like you don’t really mean it.”

“I don’t. That’s the ‘point,’” Simon bared his teeth. “Sorry, girlie, but I don’t take to kindly to people who fire a bullet at my face.”

“I was trying to help get rid of that ungodly facial hair of yours.”

He lunged at me and I shrieked, darting back into the bathroom. I poked my head from around the corner and saw him standing there, eyebrows raised. Then he started laughing.

Asshole.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Negan would be…distraught if I did that,” Simon said. “He’s fond of you. Everyone can see it.”

“Is…that a good thing or a bad thing? That everyone knows?”

“Well, I’m the only one that knows you and him,” Simon gyrated his hips, tongue poking past his lips. I groaned, embarrassed. He stopped, laughing. “Yeah. I know all about that. He told me, in great detail. I didn’t even ask.”

“We were stuck in that trailer, and we got bored.”

“Hey, I don’t blame you. Or him. But not everyone thinks that way,” Simon waved a finger. “So you’d best be on your utmost behavior. There are consequences, here. Negan has to make sure people know he’s in charge.”

I stepped out from around the corner, flinching when Simon came closer. Giving me an almost childlike grin he pinched my cheeks, adding, “I wouldn’t want to tarnish that cute little face of yours. Now c’mon. He’s waiting.”

Carl had mentioned how Negan had a harem of willing women, but I’d brushed it off as Negan and his theatrics. The dude could have been a great actor.

But nope. He had a harem of pretty women and a nice parlor with an even nicer room. And in that room he was waiting, along with a guest.

Eugene.

He refused to make eye contact with me. He was sitting adjacent to Negan, speaking softly. The moment I entered he stood, dismissing himself.

“No. Eugene, sit the fuck back down,” Negan gestured with Lucille. Eugene obeyed, one leg bouncing restlessly. Negan crooked a finger, pointing to the open cushion. “You sit down, too. Thank you for bringing her here, Simon.”

“My pleasure,” Simon wasted no time in leaving.

I reluctantly sat, keeping a good gap between Eugene and I. He had yet to look at me.

“I assume you two know each other pretty fucking well?” Negan lazily raised Lucille, pointing and letting her drift from me to Eugene. When neither of us replied, he rolled his eyes and spat, “Loosen the fuck up. Shit. You’re not in trouble.”

“She and I were acquaintances back at Alexandria,” Eugene said smoothly. “We didn’t talk much. I only admired her from afar, something I now regret.”

Admired — oh, fuck.

Negan raised an eyebrow. “You had a thing for her?”

“Yes, but only because she and are homologous in that we both lack proper social skills and share similar tastes in extracurricular activities. I would refrain from calling it anything but a minor fondness.”

I was staring at the ground, hard. Negan gave a hum of either approval or distaste — the noise was so generic that I couldn’t tell which it was — before saying, “Let’s keep it that fucking way, okay? That’s not what I wanted to fucking talk to you about, anyway. I want you to tell your friend why you chose to stay with us, even after you were given an opportunity to escape.”

For the first time, Eugene looked at me. There was no fear, no facade that he was putting on. “I simply weighed the disadvantages and the benefits. My skills are being utilized to their full capacity here. Yours could be, too.”

“Babysitting and gardening isn’t a skill, really,” I said. “I can’t make bullets or fix shit like you. I can’t do most stuff.”

“Untrue. Your attitude is truculent and you have an aptitude for combat. Rick unfortunately never saw that — I did.”

“With Regina dead, I’ll need someone to replace her. I sincerely hope you consider the offer. It’s a pretty fucking generous one,” Negan smiled. “What I told you in that trailer is still fucking true. You’ll be respected here. Eugene is an example of that.”

Negan dismissed Eugene with a wave of Lucille. He left slowly, glancing over his shoulder the entire time. The moment the door closed, Negan tossed Lucille onto the couch and let out a sigh.

“God, he’s fucking weird.”

“And you’re not? I’m not?”

“You are. Don’t fucking know about me,” Negan smirked. “But I wouldn’t change you. Hell no.”

“I wouldn’t change you either. Well, maybe some minor stuff,” I grit my teeth. Negan licked his lips, staring at me curiously. I said, “Is that all you called me here for? So I could listen to Eugene make a sales pitch?”

“I was hoping I could fuck your brains out, too.”

“You have a bunch of wives out there, all dolled up,” I snorted. I’d never get over the nerve this man had. “I had to walk past them. I don’t know why of all people you would want me—”

“We went over this. I think you’re hot as shit.”

Solid logic right there.

“I appreciate that, Negan, but what happened in that trailer…do you really think its smart to carry that shit over?” I heard Negan stand, coming to sit by my side. “Like, that was then…just the two of us. Alone. This is here.” “And here is where I’m the fucking boss. You saw all those people kneel when I walked by them? I’m a fucking god to them. And god’s can fuck whoever and whenever they damn well please.”

I didn’t push him away when his lips began suckling on my throat. I just groaned, playing into his little game. I didn’t care. He always made me feel so good, each squeeze and kiss and touch sending my brain flatlining into submission. I wanted him, desperately.

“Don’t hold back on me,” Negan murmured. “This is no different than last time.”

“It is. This time we have a bed,” I chuckled, leaning in for a kiss. My mind wandered to a particularly dirty place, and I paused, glancing at the door. “Why don’t you ask Simon to get in here?”

Negan raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t think you liked him.”

“He’s growing on me. So are those muscles,” I kissed the scruff on Negan’s cheek. “I’m kidding, you know. I was a virgin until I met you. I don’t know what makes you think I’m already ready to have two dicks in me.”

Negan, face flushed, looked embarrassed. I pulled away, looking him up and down.

“Are you jealous?”

“Fuck no,” Negan replied. “I’m not fucking jealous.”

“Why don’t we get one of your wives in here, then?”

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Negan’s eyes went from mirthful to hostile. I raised my hands in a placating gesture, still unsure of how far to push him. I desperately wanted to say my piece, especially before I fell into his arms once more.

“No. I’m just saying. If you’re jealous of me and Simon, who’s to say that I’m not jealous of you and your wives? It’s a two way street, you know.”

“Hell, as far as I’m concerned, you’re one of them,” Negan snorted. “Look, I know you have your little crush and all. I know what we talked about back in that fucking trailer. Just because I opened up to you doesn’t mean that I’m going to drop everything and make you my one-and-only or whatever the fuck you want to call it.”

His words hurt, but I wasn’t at all surprised. I was more mad at myself for asking. For ruining what could have been a perfect night of great talks and great sex.

Instead I was siting before him, doubting. Doubting myself.

“Look at me,” Negan grasped my chin with his fingers. “I care about you. I wouldn’t have fucking tossed Regina out that window if I didn’t. But whatever it is you think you feel for me? Throw it away. Get rid of it. I’m not going to be able to return any of the shit you give me, and that’s not fucking fair to you.”

“Have you ever killed someone like that before? Like Regina?” “I’ve killed plenty of fucking people, and all of them deserved it.”

“No. I mean…Regina was one of you. She was a savior. You trusted her,” I swallowed. “I was a nobody. Yet you killed one of your own men for hurting someone on the other team. It shouldn’t have mattered to you whether or not I died, but it did. If I’m no better than your wives or the other saviors, why don’t you treat me that way?”

He visited your room. There were plenty of other injured saviors, yet he spent a majority of his time with you.

Why? 

“Because I invest in people I think can do fucking better for themselves. You’re one of those fucking people. It’s why I’m pushing so hard for you to stay here.”

“The sex is a bonus?” I gave a sad little laugh, feeling Negan’s lips against my own. This kiss was chaste, gentle.

“If that’s what you want to call it. It’s something I fucking enjoy,” Negan purred. He stood, growling lowly. In one swift motion he’d lifted me from the couch, discarding me onto his bed. I squealed, giggling.

“Sex and…what was the other thing?” I beamed.

“Chocolate covered strawberries.”

~ ~ ~

I awoke first. I could feel Negan’s length poke against my lower back, one arm draped across my torso. We were both in a state of undress, and I’d practically moaned at the feel of soft bedsheets. Hell, they were better than the ones back at Alexandria.

I could get used to this.

I stirred, feeling Negan’s grip on me tighten. Before I could try and slip from his arms he mumbled, “Everything is fucking cancelled today. Stay.”

“Don’t I start babysitting today?” I said sarcastically. “Don’t want to be late.”

“I’m too fucking tired to determine if you’re serious or not. Shit. What time is it?”

“From the angle of the sun I’m guessing—”

“There’s a clock right there, smartass,” Negan replied, kissing my shoulder. Quieter, he said, “Shit, you mouthing off gets my dick hard.”

“I can feel,” I grimaced. I checked the clock — almost nine. I flopped back down, groaning and saying, “It’s to early for me, that’s for sure. Shit. I thought it was, like, lunchtime.”

“Even more of a reason for you to stay,” Negan kissed the back of my neck. His arms snaked around my waist, face nuzzled into my shoulder.

“You’re extra clingy today. What’s the deal?”

“Even though everything around us has turned into a shitshow, I’m feeling pretty fucking content right now,” Negan licked his lips as I turned to face him. “You being with me is the icing on the fucking cake.”

I smiled, but internally I was wincing. I still hadn’t forgotten what he’d told me last night.

He wants you to bury all your feelings for him.

You can’t. Not when he says stuff like this.

Maybe I was incapable of just fucking. Years of abuse and neglect made it very easy for me to get attached. Even now, I still had trouble distinguishing actual romantic feelings from platonic fondness.

“Why are you fucking looking at me like that? Did I say some shit wrong—”

“No. It’s not you. It’s me. It’s always me,” I snorted, struggling not to shed any tears. I could already feel them bubbling up inside me, threatening to spill forth. I didn’t want to burden Negan with whatever stupid shit was on my mind.

“Hey — shit. Don’t cry. Look at me,” Negan cupped my cheek with his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is. It’s fucking important to me,” Negan replied. “Start talking.”

“About what you said last night. About…burying whatever feelings I have for you. I can’t. I don’t know how. I can’t tell if I’m in love with you, or if I’m only feeling this way because you’re one of the few people to ever give me attention like this. To care. Or maybe I’m in love with the idea of being in love. I don’t know. It’s all a big, confusing mess.”

Negan took a long pause. His face gave away nothing. I immediately began worrying that he’d kick me from his bed for rambling on.

Before he could say anything, I added, “I’m fucked up in the head, Negan. I have been, way before the world ended. Maybe this isn’t the right choice. Maybe I need to grow up some.”

“If you get any older, you’re going to fucking pass me. You don’t need to ‘grow up’ — you’ve aged enough. Hell, you’ve been dealing with this shit for years? Before the dead started walking around, eating people and shit like that? The fact that you’re alive, even after all that, is a fucking triumph,” Negan said firmly. “I’d trust you with fucking anything, because I know you could get it done. But what you’re talking about now — I’ve said my fucking piece, Rachel. I can’t love. Not anymore. I don’t feel shit — no happiness, no sadness, no nothing. I just…am. I do what I have to do and don’t think about it.”

“What about when Regina shot me? You would have let me die if you didn’t really care. I know you saw something in me. I know that. But you didn’t have to kill Regina. You didn’t have to throw her out the window. She did her job — it was a mistake. If she were alive, I would have forgiven her and moved on. You reacted because  it hurt you to see me hurt.” Negan rubbed his eyes, chuckling to himself. At first I thought he was going to scold me, but instead he murmured, “Shit. I never fucking though about that. I didn’t remember what it fucking felt like,” he threw his head back and laughed. “Holy fuck. That’s what it was. I fucking remember that now.”

“Negan—”

“I felt like I couldn’t fucking move on when Lucille died. I sat in the fucking corner like a pathetic fucker, numb to the core. Couldn’t even put her out of here misery,” Negan said. “I told myself I’d never feel that way again. Couldn’t even keep my own fucking promise.”

“You,…felt that with me?”

“Fuck yes. But I wouldn’t have been able to put you down myself after you turned. I knew I would. Seeing you as one of them would have fucking broken me, and I guess I know why.”

You can say it now.

“I love you.”

Negan met my gaze, smiling. His face was flushed, and I could tell that he was embarrassed, like a young kid approaching his first crush. It amplified his boyish charm, tenfold.

“Shit—”

“Try and say it without cursing.”

“That’s no fucking fun. Besides, you curse just as much as me,” Negan leaned in for a kiss, murmuring, “I fucking love you, too.”

#vizhi0nw #negan #negans thirst squad

[retroreaderr]

Daryl/Reader | Sweet Child O' Mine

akjdkahsjd ok so i’m so sorry for being gone for so long, but hey while i was busy wallowing in my own depression i started watching twd for real this time bc im hyped for death stranding and i kinda maybe love daryl now,, what a cutie jesus someone get him a warm blanket and cocoa the poor boy;; anyways with that, i’ll be adding twd to our fandoms list so feel free to send in some rqs, though please keep in mind i’m only on season three. i’m trying my best to make it through before it starts up again in october, though – 🕷️💋

It would have been a quiet evening were it not for the soft sound of a guitar drifting from the campsite.

It started as what seemed to be random rather out of tune notes, then evolved into something somewhat-coherent, and then finally into what one could call decent playing.

“Say, you’re pretty good with that thing,” a voice interrupted your absentminded strumming.

“It’s Glenn’s - the one Dale grabbed for him. Said he couldn’t play, I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“You’re a quick learner, then?”

“Nah,” you finally turned to look at the woman interrogating you, “I used to play. Before all this.”

Lori nodded before lowering her gaze back to the acoustic.

“Can you play anything besides a scale, then? Or does your expertise end there?”

You let out a small chuckle before glancing over at her, “I might be able to.”

After a few more seconds of tuning, you strummed a few notes before taking a deep breath. It seemed to come back to you all at once, thank god for muscle memory.

A small riff opened the song, and it was immediately recognizable despite the slowed tempo and softer tone,

“He’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky…” A few other members of the group had stopped their work and turned to stare in your direction, the soft glow of the fire casting an even warmer tone onto you than the setting sun already had. “Now and then when I see his face he takes me away to that special place, and if I’d stare too long, I’d probably break down and cry,” your eyes drifted shut as your hands continued to play through the chorus. Your voice grew even softer with each word, and the small audience you’d attracted seemed to lean in with each line, as to not miss the comfort that the music brought.

“He’s got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain…I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain-”

“This ain’t a vacation, people! Get back to work! Come on, now!” your concert was cut short. Your head snapped up at Shane’s voice calling your name.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just…”

“She was just having a little fun, let her go,” Lori finally stepped in.

“Well as great as that sounds, if you haven’t noticed, we don’t have time for fun. Not anymore.” She stood up to say something back, but instead sighed and glanced back at you once more before walking off towards the house.

“Everyone else seemed to like it,” you mumbled, your gaze turning towards the ground.

“Well everyone else needs to get their heads outta their asses.”

“What everyone else needs is a break. I was doing that for them. I get it, the world’s gone to shit but…I don’t think a little normalcy is gonna be the end of us.”

“Just save your distractions for later. The rest of us have work to do, you know, actual contributions.”

With that, he turned and walked away, following in Lori’s steps towards the house.

“Asshole,” you breathed, staring after him before looking down at the guitar.

“I liked it,” a soft voice praised.

You turned to look at Daryl as he emerged from his tent, making his way to where you sat.

“Thanks.”

“I think you’re right. These people need a break. Somethin’ to remind ‘em it there’s still some humanity left in this world.”

You watched as he slowly made his way to the vacant seat next to you.

“Yeah.”

“Besides, it sounded pretty damn good.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, “Thank you.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for.”

You then stood, setting the instrument down on the chair you’d been sitting on.

“I’ll get some wood for the fire,” you whisper. You weren’t sure if your voice broke because of the shame that Shane’s insults had brought, or the embarrassment you’d felt in response to Daryl’s compliments.

Either way, you practically ran away from where you stood, being sure to take a lap around part of the farm before actually getting the wood.

By the time you’d arrived back, it was getting darker and most had retired to their tents or sat quietly by the dying fire. You tossed what you’d brought back into the pit before solemnly taking back your seat.

You then sat staring at the flames for a while, until you were alone, lit by the glow of the fire and warmed by its heat.

“I mean it when I say what you did earlier wasn’t a bad thing,” you heard Daryl’s voice creep up on you once again. He rounded one of the tents before taking his spot next to you. You seemed almost surprised that he chose to sit so close despite the plenty of open seats. Then again, your relationship with him wasn’t exactly normal. You weren’t really sure what it was. It wasn’t…Romantic, you supposed. He confided in you occasionally, something he hadn’t done with anyone else in the group. You knew there was so much he still hadn’t told you, but you were grateful he trusted you with what he did tell you.

Best friends? No, it was different.

Complicated. That’s the word.

“You should play again sometime. I think they’ll like it,” he himself stared at the fire, his voice as soft as ever.

“You’re very caring for someone who rarely speaks to anyone else.”

“I talk to you.”

“I don’t count.”

“Why not?” he looked at you with an expression crossed between confusion and anger.

You opened your mouth to respond, but you couldn’t think of an answer.

“I just… Don’t.”

“I think you do,” he turned to look back at the fire.

A silence followed and you felt yourself growing tired. You knew you should have returned to your tent for the night, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you let your eyes close as your head slowly fell to the side, resting against Daryl’s exposed shoulder. You felt him flinch at the contact, but he relaxed once he realized what it was.

He looked down at your sleeping form, and with a few moments of consideration and hesitation and many moments of (unsuccessfully) attempting to convince himself it was simply a friendly gesture and nothing more, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his hand resting near the top of your arm, where he hadn’t even realized he was absentmindedly tracing circles into your skin. After what seemed like forever, he felt his own fatigue catch up with him, but he was determined to stay awake until you were safely in your tent.

The only problem was that he couldn’t recall which was yours.

With a sigh he stood carefully and lifted your sleeping figure into his arms.

He didn’t want to take the chances of waking anyone else - they all needed the rest.

It took him a while to get the zipper to the tent open, but once he did he set you down on his cot and, taking an extra blanket, laid down on the ground next to you. It was uncomfortable, but then again, so were most things these days. He didn’t mind.

“Daryl…?” your voice was slurred by sleep.

He let out a small noise in response to let you know he was there.

“Why’re…Why you on…th’ground?”

He didn’t answer.

“Whaddya doin’ down there? Get…C'mere.”

He slowly sat up, giving you a questioning look. You were half asleep - you probably didn’t know what you were saying. How would you react in the morning if -

“Please?” your voice seemed a bit clearer now, more coherent.

More awake.

He hesitated once again, but his racing thoughts were interrupted by you reaching down and grabbing onto his arm and weakly tugging at it.

“C’mon, I’m tired.”

His breath sped as he stood and waited near the edge of the cot.

“I…” he didn’t know what to say.

You rolled over as far as you could, and he attempted to take the spot next to you, laying awkwardly and trying to avoid as much contact as possible.

That plan, however, was ruined as soon as you threw the covers over him and rolled over to rest on his chest. His breathing hitched and it was enough for you to notice. He was obviously uncomfortable, why were you even here?

“I’m sorry, I-” you were about to get up and leave, but a certain pair of arms made their way around your lower back, holding you in place against him.

“Don’t go.”

He sounded so…broken.

You buried your face in his neck, and you could’ve sworn that instead of his breath speeding up, it instead had the opposite effect - he relaxed.

“I won’t.”

Though you couldn’t see in the dark, he smiled.

#daryl x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader #twd #the walking dead imagine #twd x reader #daryl dixon #widow's kiss

[marchingfluterino]

band things that happened today (not a lot of things happened at the actual practice so im adding things that happened during school as well)

beka was at the gsa meeting

(mello) hannah (whos jewish, and sos her family imo) told me at lunch that max thought that a) my legal name is ari (lmao i wish) and b) that i was jewish

i mean. he wasnt too far off with either, as im changing my legal name as soon as i fuckin can and also my dad is jewish so if my mom had been i would be as well, plus my last name is pretty jewish and i look way more like my dad, and yknow ari’s a pretty jewish name too

max, from what hannah told me: their name is ari, how is that not jewish!

(i can h e a r his voice)

mary had a dream in which there was a hurricane and tornado and most of band died, including daryl, who yelled “THIS IS SPARTAAA” and jumped straight into it

when i got to the band room no one else was in there and i briefly thought i’d like, astral projected

matt told me in all seriousness to put toothpaste on my flute in order to polish it

i now know how to flip people off while holding a flute in the same hand, and to be quite honest it’s harder than you’d think

“squeeze!” —max, yelling at us during basics

there was a LOT of staff-on-staff roasting

"ejajerated" —pat, trying to say exaggerated

max did a thing right in the middle of drill where he crosses his right leg over his left and twists down so he's sitting at the end of it. right in the middle of fuckin drill. what the fuck

like i know thats a cavaliers thing but. we were right in the middle of a run. why are you sitting on the field max are you TRYING to get run over

i can no longer take the closer seriously bc when we're doing the p < ff crescendo and the set after it mendelson like. fuckin shreds on his electric fuckin guitar

me, looking at the stars: i wish i may, i wish i might, i wish that i could die tonight

i overblew literally five times in a single run of the closer i hate myself so fucking much

daryl has still not sent the video of our performance at our last competition. daryl please

#beka #mello hannah #max #mary #daryl #matt #flute #pat #mendelson #closer #don't you worry 'bout a thing #overblow #marching band #band #fluterino #shebandigans #bandtics #marching band quotes