#Daryl Dixon/reader

[mychemstat]

shotgun - daryl dixon

word count : 6.6k

summary : done with another stressful semester of your university, you invite your friends over for pizza and some pre-rolled joints you were dealt a few days ago. when a handsome stranger tags along, throwing all your plans off course, you fail to anticipate how well you flirt under influence.

authors note and warnings : daryl dixon/f!reader. drugs, shotgunning, unprotected piv sex, cum eating, some dry humping, religious guilt mentioned very briefly, build up, porn WITH plot, nsfw as fuck, high sex (both parties high and consent enthusiastically), daryl jerks you off as you jerk him off, reader with female reproductive parts. song for the fic also mentioned in the fic: girls need love by summer walker.

you don't remember the exact series of events that led a stranger to your bed, smoking your weed.

what you do remember is glancing at a text from glenn, your friend of five years, saying that he would be at yours for movie night along with his new roommate because "he seemed lonely and could use some friends."

to be completely fucking honest, you did not want to make a new friend. you did not need a new friend. you were fine with the way things were; glenn and his girlfriend maggie occupied enough of your social life for you not to feel lonely even in your one-bedroom apartment miles away from your university campus.

after an arduous day of working on your midterm papers, you just needed a good old movie night where you could sit in comfortable silence with your friends and then eventually pass out on the couch. the universe seemed to have different plans however.

it's not like you didn't understand why glenn was bringing his roommate over; you weren't heartless. hell, you have been in his position before: new to the town, no new friends, just you and four cartons of your stuff neatly packed with the help of your mother - who, by the way, did not make the move easy with her empty nest syndrome.

maybe this was a good thing. you often complained to glenn about how you needed to get out more and live out your college days to the fullest before you succumbed to capitalism and worked a dead-end job just to make ends meet. you didn't even have to go out of your house to make a new friend, he would be at your doorstep in about twenty minutes. and besides, glenn would bring free pizza from his work. you could play along for some free pizza.

the clock struck nine pm as you shut your laptop for the day and leaned back on your couch, exhausted. your fingertips hurt from typing incessantly, and your thighs were uncomfortably hot thanks to your piece of shit laptop.

tossing the device beside you, you walked to your bathroom to freshen up, try and look presentable. you wouldn't give a single fuck if it was only your friend group coming over, hell, they have seen you at your worst moments where you were crying over your life or throwing up from drinking too much and vice versa.

this was uncharted territory. sort of. you had seen glenn's roommate once when you visited glenn’s to grab the notes you lent him for intro to microeconomics. you couldn't even catch his name in the few seconds his room door was cracked open, followed by a wary glare through the sliver and a loud thud, shutting you out of his sight.

your eyelids dropped as you splashed water on your face, replaying your interaction with him to somehow analyze him by his dialogue, or lack thereof.

socializing had always been rocky for you, especially following social cues or maintaining a conversation without thinking that the other person could not give less of a shit about you.

if glenn's roommate was anything like glenn, a raging extrovert, he would do most of the talking and all you would have to do is nod and comment. judging by his reaction to seeing you the other day, however, you were afraid that he was more of an introvert compared to you.

as you picked an outfit for the night, something comfortable but presentable, you practiced your smile.

should you smile with your teeth, or offer an obligatory tight-lipped smile? did it seem fake? would it be interpreted as rude?

throwing on a black tank and some red flannel pants, some of your best clothes to sleep in, you felt anxiety glow red hot in your veins, twisting your gut horribly.

the way your body reacted to socializing was a bit much, in your opinion. you wouldn't actively worry about things, but your body acted in ways your brain didn’t. you couldn't figure out for the life of you what it was, and you weren't sure you wanted to.

a few deep breaths settled your stomach as you checked yourself in the mirror. you looked decent, and you could pass out comfortably in your living room. your hair was okay, not much could be done to it so you left it be.

it had been fifteen minutes, and glenn texted you saying that he was downstairs as a heads-up so you could "fix yourself up haha."

that little shit.

rolling your eyes, you texted him to fuck off and did a once-over around you to make sure your apartment was tidy enough. as you waited by the door, right foot tapping impatiently, that feeling returned, the one that made you want to throw up and shit your guts out simultaneously.

you heard a distant conversation from the hallway and straightened your clothes in preparation. as soon as you heard three raps on the door, you opened it immediately.

"wow that was quick, were you standing at the door waiting for us?" glenn greeted you with a box of pizza in his hand. you were about to tell him to eat shit but the smell of the food worked like a charm as you ignored his remarks and moved away from the door to let your friends, well, two friends and the stranger, in.

maggie’s arms caged you in, rocking you from side to side, "i haven't seen you in so long, how have you been!"

the girl smelled like roses, soothing your anxiety one nerve at a time. "i've been okay, just buried in exams and papers, like the usual..." you trail off, appreciating the bear hug she still had you in. you loved maggie, her voice, her energy, her eyes; everything about her made you feel lighter and absolved you of all worries.

so much so that you forgot about the figure standing awkwardly outside your door with a pack of beers in his right hand and his left stuffed in his pocket.

you widened your eyes, letting go of maggie with a kiss on her cheek.

"hey, nice to meet you, um... i'm sorry, i don't think we have met..."

"oh yeah! that's daryl, look at what he brought!" glenn exclaimed, setting the pizza down on the coffee table.

"beer," daryl commented, nodding to himself.

this is going to be fun, you thought, painfully, offering him a practiced smile to lighten his heavy aura.

daryl. his name certainly suited him. clad in all black, a silver chain hanging off his belt loops, and a top that looked like its sleeves had been ripped off. you didn’t hate the way that it revealed his surprisingly buff arms as he walked into the apartment, raising them and holding the booze, "where d'ya want this?"

his voice had a drawl to it; deep like a smoker’s, deeper with that country accent of his.

caught up in your own observations, your delayed response to daryl's simple question had glenn snicker, earning a quick and hopefully stabbing nudge from maggie.

pointing at your coffee table, you started, "so daryl, you new to this town?"

the man grunted a "yes" without any follow-up, which had you frantically search for the remote control of your tv, the best social lubricant at your disposal.

as you passed the remote control to glenn to put on a movie of his choice- since it was his turn this week- your view switched to daryl, sitting on the other side of the couch with his legs parted open and both arms resting on the cushions.

you tried overlooking the manspreading just this once.

he wore his hair down, strands covering his face dishevelledly. you wondered how it didn't bother him to have hair blocking his view or tickling his face. your gaze narrowed in, ignoring maggie and glenn arguing over which movie they wanted to watch.

daryl's eyes were focused… or too relaxed? you couldn't tell. the kajal on his lower waterline certainly made your gut flip in excitement, confusing you momentarily. he looked messy; the torn shirt, the ripped black pants, and even his greasy-looking hair for that matter. but even the short duration you knew him for, it suited him.

you kind of liked it.

“let’s watch jaws! please!” glenn protested, tugging on his girlfriend’s arm, to which she just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“how many times do you wanna watch it?! no, pick sumn else.”

daryl didn’t care for their argument clearly, scoffing and reaching for a bottle of beer on the coffee table. the bottle looked comically small in his hands as you watched him buck his hips to fetch what looked like a lighter from his back pocket.

at this point, glenn and maggie were basically non-existent as you observed daryl holding the butt of the lighter to the bottlecap and flick it off in one swift motion. the sheer ease with which he undid the seal made you widen your eyes, an amused smile painting your lips.

you heard the faint tune of the theme song of jurassic park. the couple must have settled on a movie, finally, you thought. your eyes trailed every movement of daryl’s, focusing on the way he brought the mouth of the bottle to his lips, chugging down almost half of the drink, his adam’s apple bobbing prominently.

a foreign feeling blossomed at the bottom of your gut, making you shift in your seat. you watched intently as daryl separated the bottle from his mouth, leaving a glossy sheen on his bottom lip.

what the fuck was happening to you?

you didn’t know jack shit about daryl, you didn’t know his morals, or his background, or even had a proper conversation with him before. so why were suddenly fixing your hair and adjusting your clothes?

why did you care?

peeling your eyes away with great difficulty, you turned your attention to maggie who was reaching for a slice of pie, “what toppings did you get?”

“half mushroom and half jalapeno, no pepperoni this time though, they were out,”

you nodded at her, knowing full well your attention was still hung up on the standoffish man sitting across you. turning toward the tv, you leaned back in your seat, puffing your chest out for a deep breath and settling into the soft cushion behind you.

daryl remained silent and focused on the screen, occasionally snickering at the jokes and mumbling to himself as he nursed his beer. he really was an introvert. not the kind scared to talk, but the kind who would rather not; save his breath instead.

at that rate, you weren’t going to get to know him at all, and the tension in the air seemed to grow by the second, at least for you.

halfway through the movie, you exhaled, breaking the deafening silence from the sheer lack of conversation. daryl and maggie’s heads turned to you; glenn’s vision remained glued to the screen.

“this movie is so fucking boring, glenn!” you interrupted, finally snapping the boy out of whatever spell jeff goldblum's chest hair had him in.

“this is not fucking fair, did i ever complain about any of your movie picks?” he rolled his eyes, setting his fourth slice down inside the box, clapping the crumbs off his fingers.

“ask me if i care. we aren’t even talking, we’re just staring at this screen. look at maggie! she almost dozed off a couple of times!” you responded, leaning forward in your seat and pointing at the poor girl trying to keep her eyes open.

defeat washed across your friend’s face as he swung an arm around maggie to pull her in.

offering him the most shit-eating grin, you began, “i recently bought some pre-rolls as an after-exam-season treat�� it’s purely indica so it won’t have us neurotic…” you trailed off, scanning your friends’ as well as daryl’s faces for approval.

maggie straightened her back, a glint in her eye you rarely witnessed. you knew glenn would never say no to a little bit of relaxation, especially after a long day at the shitty job he works.

“fuck yeah, now we’re talking.” daryl sighed, rubbing his temples and setting his beer down.

oh, so he was bored as fuck before.

you knew it had nothing to do with you whatsoever, especially because glenn was clearly at fault, although you couldn’t help but feel like you disappointed him.

a complete stranger who happened to catch your eye and can’t leave your mind.

holding up your index finger, you rushed to your bedroom, giddiness blinding your senses just at the mere thought of being the perfect host for your guests.

when you returned to the living room with a flat metallic box, the movie was turned off and maggie succeeded to connect her phone to your bluetooth speaker, shuffling through her numerous playlists before finally landing on one.

“you’re gonna like this song…” the girl pointed at you, her eyes following your figure the moment you stepped into the living room. tilting your head in confusion, you waited for the song to begin as the speaker turned on with three little beeps.

“honestly…” you heard from the speakers, ears perking up instantly. your eyes widened at maggie in excitement, your mouth falling agape.

daryl and glenn observed the two of you, confused at the sudden change in atmosphere.

as the instrumental in the background progressed, you rushed to your seat, nudging the lid of the box open with the pad of your thumb. the scent of weed, not the kind that stinks but is subtle and almost nostalgic, enveloped your senses. your fingers found themselves picking the well-rolled joint in your hands and asking someone for a light.

daryl grabbed his lighter, which you noticed had a sticker of a skull on it, and extended his hand. his buff, well-defined, muscular-

“you think one joint’s gonna be enough? i’m not a lightweight unlike this loser here,” daryl spoke in a full sentence for the first time, gesturing towards glenn as he flicked the lighter on and looked up at you. placing the joint between your lips, you craned your neck forward and leaned in to meet the flame halfway, two fingers ghosting in a ‘v’ under the cigarette in case it fell.

“i have plenty, daryl. getting high won’t be a problem,” you glanced up at him, through the flame, paying close attention to his eyes for the first time now that his hair was mostly out of the way.

his face bathed in the orangish hue of the flame, as did yours, revealing the true color of his eyes. they were a deep prussian blue; not what you expected but certainly liked. the spark from the lighter chipped away at the twisted head of the joint and bit the ground-up grass eventually.

sucking in, you breathed life into the stick between your lips, the head pulsing red-hot as you inhaled the smoke into your lungs. momentarily holding your breath, you exhaled, feeling an itch in your throat.

you forced a cough or two out of you before leaning back in your seat and processing the hit. your hand mindlessly raised the joint to maggie on your right, who grabbed it a little too quickly.

“honestly i’m trying to stay focused”

the song commenced, curving the edge of your lips upward. it might have been a placebo effect, the fact that you were a lightweight, or that you just hadn’t smoked in a while. but some of those reasons were catching up to you. fast.

glenn took several hits with ease, throwing his head back on the cushion and handing the roll to daryl.

“you must think i’ve got to be joking…”

his fingers, too thick for the small joint, held it with such care. like he would break it if he gripped it a little too hard. you watched the man take a long drag; his lips gently kissing the joint, drawing out the smoke to hold it down briefly before blowing it all out.

“i don’t think i can wait. i just need it now…”

you don’t know what awakened in you; maybe it was because your favorite song was playing, or that smoking looked especially attractive on him, or a combination of both, but your eyes widened unnaturally largely as you traced his movements; the movement of his lips around the cig, his chest heaving after a hit, his sharp collarbones on shameless display as he threw his head back in relief.

you were entranced.

“here.” he offered, reaching across the seating area with the joint in his hand.

you tried to make the exchange non-physical. you really did. but his fingers enveloped most of the joint and you had no choice but to fumble with them until you grabbed hold of the cigarette, his touch leaving your skin burning hot.

“i just need some dick… i just need some love…”

this was not relaxing in any way. you sat with this stranger you wanted to fuck as a song about wanting to fuck played in the background. you monitored your breathing and your posture; all of these efforts to impress this question mark of a man in your living room.

“fuck, i think i’m already high.” glenn coughed out, his head resting on maggie’s shoulder. you chuckled, nursing the joint once again.

you were not going to lie. the drug had gotten hold of you by now; your reactions were slightly delayed, you took longer to process what the other person said, and your eyelids hung lower than usual.

and there's the cottonmouth.

what trumps all of the above, however, is the pure euphoria climbing every fiber of your body. a harmony of numbness and freedom flowing through you, dusting the weight off your shoulders.

“you could be the one. we can start with a handshake, baby, i’mma need more than a hug…”

you might have underestimated the effects of weed on you. not only did it make you giggly and careless and hungry, but it also made you unbelievably horny. you looked up at daryl, a blunt weight on your eyelids having you cherish the softness of the cushions behind you. the pillow resting between your legs brushed against your core, throwing gasoline to the flame.

the nape of your neck felt hot as you swallowed thickly, trying to distract yourself from the situation at hand.

the bass from your speakers stimulated your body, vibrations traveling between your legs.

“girls can’t ever say they need it, girls can’t never say now…”

fuck, you wanted someone.

normally, you were fine being alone; it was difficult enough managing yourself, let alone someone else. and it isn’t like you didn’t have experience with romance; you had a couple of relationships in high school that obviously didn’t last. coming to university, however, made you realize just how not-ready you were to be involved with someone.

“hey can i take a nap on your couch?” maggie began, gently nudging glenn to make room for her head on his lap.

“already?” you teased the girl with no actual annoyance in your voice.

maggie nodded, tired and laying down on her boyfriend’s lap. you swore you heard daryl scoff slightly as glenn stroked maggie’s hair. you flashed a small, sort of obligatory smile at the couple on your couch.

the distance between you and daryl seemed to lengthen as half of your smoke circle was now passed out, leaving no one to pass the joint. your back strained, trying to close the gap between you and the man who did not seem to get high at all.

“hey, uh.. daryl? you high yet?”

“nah, i can go for a few more rounds.” he grunted kicking glenn’s leg in slight annoyance.

your eyes widened, bottom lip jutting out in admiration of his tolerance level, “you smoke often?”

“a lot of shit happens around… just easier to tolerate if you can forget for a while,” he spoke, bringing the roach to his lips.

“why not drink instead? why do you smoke?”

you knew you were testing the limits with this closed-off man, but how else were you supposed to get to know him?

daryl cocked an eyebrow, and you could hear him question why it was any of your business to know anything about his life.

“i’m not a good drunk.”

silence washed into the room, leaving you pouting your lips, trying to segue the conversation into something lighter.

“i like your skull tattoo.” you commented, eyeing the back of his hand. you realized it looked exactly like the sticker on his lighter. that seemed to have caught his attention noticing his slightly raised eyebrows.

“can you guys shut the fuck up?” a drowsy voice interrupted your conversation.

“what the fuck do you want us to do huh?” you retorted, turning towards glenn, who was scrunching his face in irritation.

“go inside or something i don’t fucking know!”

you would have usually kicked him off the couch for behaving like the annoying brother he is, but you had to think this through. there was a way this could turn out well for you.

‘going inside’ meant that you would be alone with daryl, probably on your bed too since there wasn’t any other seating inside your room. you looked at daryl, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

your room was slightly colder than your living room; something about the building ventilation being fucked up. daryl didn’t seem to care, shedding the sleeveless vest he had on, his biceps flexing in the process. you eyed the posters on your wall with criticism, hoping none of them were embarrassing.

“you like breaking bad huh?” daryl commented, pointing at your wall. you nodded, a smile pulling at your lips.

“good show. you got good taste.”

your chest swelled with pride, muscles around your mouth in pain from how hard you smiled. a chill from your aircon trailed up your spine, your arms hugging either side of your torso in an attempt to warm up. daryl glanced at you, specifically your breasts pushing up against each other, momentarily, before sitting on the foot of the bed with the dying roach in his hand.

you turned off the fluorescent white central lighting in your room before pressing the switch for your calmer, dimmer lamp.

“shit was hurtin’ my eyes, thanks.” you heard daryl chuckle.

“yeah, the landlord hates me, i swear. had to get candles because that light is just so fucking ugly,” you spoke, a laugh bubbling up. the smile on your face had not left since you entered your room. the full-body euphoria made you giggly, even in the company of a stranger.

sitting down on the other side of the bed, you dug into the metal box once again, fumbling with the tempting joints as your vision blurred softly. you felt his gaze burn into your skin as you sat in your dimly lit room.

“you play guitar?” he questioned, looking away from you and at the metallic blue electric guitar placed in the corner of your room.

“a little… i’m still learning though… you?”

“used to.” daryl responded, fishing his lighter out as soon as you stopped fumbling with the joint.

repeating the same routine; sticking the joint between your lips and leaning into him, overestimating the space between the two of you this time, you climbed toward him, fists digging into your mattress as you waited for him to give you the light.

you didn’t pay attention to the way your tank top dropped low in front of him, or how quick his eyes were to check you out before nudging the flame toward the joint.

you sucked on the cigarette, eyebrows knitting in pain from the delicious burn spreading through your lungs, not breaking eye-contact with the man in your bed. you exhaled slowly, the back of your head landing on the headboard with a thud, “fuuuuck… i missed this.”

daryl tilted his head, “yeah? why? you take a break?”

“well, i get addicted to things easily… and religious guilt and whatnot…” you answered, feeling weird about your sudden transparency.

daryl raised his eyebrows, “that’s heavy shit, you don’t gotta tell me twice.”

you pass the joint to daryl, his fingers sizzling against yours for the millisecond-long touch. the scent of weed fogged your senses as he blew the smoke out, coughing immediately after.

your nerves undid themselves one after the other, head swaying to a non-existent rhythm. this strain was strong. you had forgotten how dangerously easy it was to not give a fuck when you were high.

do something, say something, you scolded yourself, scanning daryl’s figure on your bed. it felt like the universe had dropped a gift on your lap and you, for some reason, refused to open it.

your inner teenager activated the second you sat down on your bed with him, letting your thoughts run wild.

the blunt ache between your thighs grew more unbearable by the second as you wondered how his lips would feel; how they’d taste.

you wanted to be near him and feel his fingers, his warmth around you. but nothing was going to happen if you didn’t close the gaping distance between the two of you. you parted your lips, heart beating faster than ever. if he shot you down, it would be the worst high of your life and you would just have to live with that.

your mouth acted before the sober part of your mind did, popping the first question in your mind.

“you ever shotgunned?”

daryl stopped fiddling with his lighter to look at you, darting his tongue out to wet his bottom lip; that same glossy sheen sent a jolt of lightning to the bottom of your gut.

you tried filling in the silence, “you know… inhaling smoke fro-”

the man nodded hesitantly, hair moving toward his face, “i know what it is.” the drone of his accent budded excitement in your chest.

you cocked an eyebrow and inched closer to him, “i haven’t.”

he stopped all movement, looking up at you to process the loss of space between him and you.

“how does it feel?” you tilted your head, shame or dignity nowhere to be found within you.

daryl’s chest heaved as he brought the joint in his hand to his lips. you watched him, processing his movements, heart beating faster than usual. his lips worked fast around the pre-roll, leaving you wondering whether he would look the same between your legs.

your thighs squirmed, body feeling smaller and smaller in front of the man leaning closer and closer to you. his hands cupped your face, the cool metal of his rings contrasting his burning fingertips.

your lips parted as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, surrendering into his hold. pulling your face in, he switched his gaze from one eye of yours to the other.

the strong yet subtle aroma of his cologne mixed with the frankly delicious scent of the drug scrambled your senses. daryl looked down, blowing smoke in a thin stream, refusing to look away from where the smoke met your lips.

like a reflex, you inhaled, hands grabbing at his legs for balance.

the room seemed to darken in comparison to the man holding your face. suddenly he and you were the only objects in the world, floating. daryl’s hold loosened as you inhaled for what felt like years of your life.

“how about that?”

your breath staggered, processing what happened a second ago. you nodded, not pulling away from him.

daryl was definitely high. a pinkish hue masked his eyes, eyelids drooping down lower than usual, and a mindless smile playing on his lips. you could say the same for yourself, still processing the position you were in with a handsome stranger you met, thanks to glenn.

“that was.. um… yeah. fun…” you struggled to find the words, still looking into his cold eyes. you shifted your weight, the flannel of your pants rubbing deliciously against your core, making you hitch your breath.

“you gon’ pull away?” he spoke, not letting go.

“you gonna let go?” you retorted, not pulling away.

you had to grow some balls. here you were, getting high with someone you actually were interested in after a long time. that was not the right time to second- guess yourself.

fingers tracing his jaw, you leaned in.

“daryl. can i kiss you?”

you could see the gears turn in his head as you waited for what felt like years for a response. not a word was spoken. the dim lamps lit the back of his head casting an angel like glow to his silhouette.

he brought the flaming end of the joint to his tongue, putting out the embers with a soft sizzle.

you widened your eyes, “what the fuck, how did that not hurt-”

silence.

the softest pair of lips on yours shut you right up, your nose finding warmth against his skin. daryl pulled you in, fingers reaching for your hair.

what was happening?

you kissed back, sitting up straight to find balance. his hands roamed your back and stopped at the small of it. he tightened his grip around the fabric of your tank top and pulled you in. your chest leaned flush against his, feeling the outlines of his several silver chains on your breasts.

your lips grew hot with every kiss you planted on his, his tongue swiping your bottom lip before biting it gently. the very involuntary moan he pulled out of you, had his chest heaving. your fingers found his small waist, relishing the way he felt under your touch.

daryl pulled away, muttering a string of “fuck”s , eyeing you head to waist, “you sure you want to?”

you deadpanned, mouth open at the man’s obliviousness, “yeah, i’m kissing you back because i don’t want you.”

“hey, no sarcasm. yes or no?”

“yes, daryl. you?”

“hell, yeah,” he nodded, pulling you in with one arm as he made himself more comfortable on your bed.

you pressed kisses on his neck, arms anchoring yourself around him on the cream-colored sheets. his shoulders settle, a long sigh escaping his lips. the grip of your fingers on his waist tightened when you caught the scent of his cologne mixed with the cigarettes you assume he had been smoking all day.

he leaned back on your pillow, eyelids dropping as he spread his legs to sink further down on the mattress. you tugged at the waistband of his jeans, signaling him to undo his belt. as he worked on his pants, you were quick to shed your tank, revealing your bra.

daryl stopped fumbling with his belt to look at you, breathing getting heavier, cock stirring at the mere sight of a topless you.

“daryl!” you reminded, noticing how distracted he was. watching him undo the zipper on his pants and push them down had you drooling in anticipation. you did not know it was possible to drool at the sight of someone, but there you were.

you started unbuttoning his shirt, peppering kisses from the nape of his neck to his collarbones, taking your sweet time to taste him. your other hand, having a mind of its own, palmed him through his boxers, fishing his first moan for the evening.

“you like it when i do that?” your open mouthed kisses made their way to the shell of his ear.

“fuck… yeah, do it again.”

following a soft chuckle, your legs straddled his waist as you helped him remove his shirt. you weren’t surprised when his tattoos were revealed, or his numerous chains for that matter. what you were intrigued about, however, were his scars.

scars scattered across his torso, some covered up with tattoos, some not.

“oh, um. yeah, these-”

“you don’t have to tell me.”

he nodded, relief washing over him. you sensed the hesitation in his voice as he tried to explain. you could tell that was not the time, clearly.

one of your hands slipped under his boxers, feeling his length. daryl’s mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back at your touch.

daryl was big. not just length-wise either; your fingers wrapped around him but barely met as you stroked up and down his shaft. his heartbeat quickened as he bucked his hips into your palm, desperate for more friction.

you had forgotten all about the pathetic state of your arousal between your legs, completely focused on making the guy writhing under your touch feel good.

so imagine your surprise when he mirrored you, his right hand sliding down your underwear to rub at your clothed clit.

you noticed daryl smile mindlessly, wondering what amused him in the middle of getting a hard-on.

“you get this wet for a stranger?”

a jolt of lightning shot up your pussy as you detached your lips from his neck, rocking against his thick fingers to meet his eyes.

“i wouldn’t be talking shit ab-... about someone who’s got your dick in their hand,” you replied, trying to concentrate on your hand and hip coordination.

“just a- fuck … just observing,” he whimpered through heavy breaths, eyeing your chest.

his fingers deftly hooked the fabric of your underwear to pull them to the side. before you could brace for impact, the coolness of his touch met the warmth of your pulsating clit, applying minimal pressure.

“daryl, fuck, can you just-” you pleaded, grinding harder against his fingers.

“nah,” you felt his smile through the kisses on your neck as his other hand unhooked your bra with ease.

you were so fucking close. but this was a competition, an unspoken one, but one nonetheless.

trying your best not to give in to his frankly skilled fingers working your pussy, your own stroked the head of his cock, earning a choked moan from the man who momentarily stopped all movement in utter surprise.

the bouts of energy shooting up your core were ten times more intense because of the weed. and maybe, probably, definitely because of daryl. that toy in your nightstand couldn't make you clench around nothing like his fingers did just a few seconds ago.

your biggest mistake was thinking that you had gotten the best of him. his focus, although seemingly on your breasts bouncing in his face, was on his own fingers, rubbing at your folds before sliding a digit down your slit and dipping into you.

head thrown back and eyes rolling to the back of your head, you gasped in your highest voice, painful pleasure coursing through your veins.

the pad of his thumb rubbed circles on your clit, the rest of his digits gathering your arousal to rub the folds of your pussy.

“this is to- too much, oh i feel so fucking good-”

“hush now, you don't wanna wake them up,” he reminded you, the stubble on his chin scratching against the soft skin on your tits. bringing his mouth to one of your nipples, he nibbled softly, massaging your other breast with his free hand.

you brought the hand previously wrapped around him to your mouth, spitting on your palm and pulling him out of his boxers before covering him with your saliva.

it was his turn to try and be quiet, teeth sinking down on his lower lip as he watched you jerk him off, smearing your spit on his tip and dipping into the slit of his cock with your thumb.

“where’d’ya lear- … learn all this?” the drawl in his voice grew raspier.

“i got my ways,” you looked up at him, mind hazy as ever, yet still focused on what was at hand. literally.

you don’t know what came over you when you pulled away from him entirely to take your pants off. daryl watched you strip, eyes raking your naked silhouette.

“what are you doi-” he began, trying to put two and two together. you climb back into your bed, pulling daryl in by his arms.

reaching for his cock, you straddled his waist, pulling your panties aside and slapping his shaft against your folds, the mere sound of contact sending shockwaves to your gut.

you rocked into his shaft, rubbing yourself up on him, your arousal smothering the tip of his cock almost immediately.

the warmth of your core sent daryl over the edge as his hands gripped firmly at your waist, rubbing his shaft up and down your slit.

your hands grabbed his thighs, massaging them steadily as the two of you continued to grind against each other, the tiniest of frictions bringing you closer to the edge.

“daryl, i don’t think i can last longer i-”

“me neither sunshine, you wanna do the honors?”

you nodded, wetting your lips and chasing your high. the sinful noises of his cock rubbing up against your pussy as you grow wetter by the second only help you as you bounce up and down against him faster and harder.

you panted his name, eyes shut and nails clawing his biceps, the tip of his cock swollen pink and pulsating.

as you focused on cumming, you didn't notice his thumb pressing down on your clit in one swift motion, sending white-hot flashes through your nervous system, your pussy clenching around nothing. his finger did not leave your clit, even when you fell back on the mattress, feeling your orgasm crescendo as your body shook in sheer euphoria.

you gripped your sheets, whimpering through the orgasm as you bit your fingers to stay quiet. tears of pleasure threatened to spill from your eyes when you arched your back at your final clench before letting go in exhaustion, clit throbbing bluntly from the aftermath of your climax.

your eyes flickered to daryl’s cock, the head leaking with precome as he watched you cum around his cock. he swallowed thickly, hands inching closer to your figure.

“daryl, you wanna come on my tits?”

eyebrows raised, he nodded hurriedly, climbing on top of a very topless you, and stroking himself. it still seemed as if he held back on cumming too soon even though you were the first one to do so.

cocking an eyebrow, you massaged the inside of his thighs, inching closer and closer to his pelvis before cupping his balls.

a guttural moan escaped his lips, the hand on his cock speeding up its pace. his mouth fell open, “fuck fuck fuck i’m coming, im coming-”

his climax painted your chest as his elbow propped himself up near your head, trying not to collapse on you.

your fingers played with the liquid, smearing it on your breasts before bringing them to your mouth and pushing them past your lips.

daryl, still recovering from his orgasm, took notice of that, a small smile playing on his lips before kissing you. the slightly salty taste of his own climax flooded his mouth as he felt your fingers thread his hair.

pulling away, you stared at him, the sheen on sweat on his forehead and chest a pretty reminder of what just happened between the two of you.

“you treat all your houseguests like this?” you heard him through the pulsation now in your ears.

that comment earned him a playful slap on the arm. “gonna help me clean this up first?” your eyes pointed toward your tits.

“depends, can i sleep over?” he questioned, already on his way to grab some tissues, letting you know he was joking around.

you giggled, sitting up to face him, “you can come over anytime you want daryl, you bring the weed next time though.”

you swore you heard him chuckle before saying, “deal.”

__________

hii ! pls comment and let me know if you liked the fic!! <33

[degenrcy]

bath time -> trad!wife reader/daryl dixon

yayayayayay you give ur amazing husband a bath and some pampering. ok no sex yet im sorry this just ended up being too long. might make a direct continuation of this tho hmm

calling gruff men honey and babe>>>

Important: My account and everything i post is MDNI, and i do not recommend looking through my account for anything else, unless you are prepared to read through my pinned and take caution. I feel like im getting a lot of new attention with a fluff story, but its something ive never had on here.

spring rolled around before you knew it, the flowerbeds were blooming and the smell of gently rained on earth was dearly missed. daryl, despite his previous stance on flowers, found himself pausing more often on the porch, his gaze softening as he took in the vibrant array of color- your hard work. he’d even started pouring some excess rainwater to feed them when he passed, a silent support of the beauty you’d brought to their home.

after one particularly long and labor-filled day, daryl returned from the deep woods- and his flannel shirt was torn, jeans caked with mud, and face streaked with dirt and sweat. he smelled of damp earth, pine needles, and something… skunky. he dropped his crossbow by the door with a heavy thud, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion.

"long day, honey?" you asked softly, meeting him at the door. your eyes took in his weary posture, the grim look in his eyes, the blood you thought was just some more dirt.

daryl grunted, rubbing a hand over his face. "walkers. damn things are makin’ rounds again. tracked 'em for miles out." he started to head for his armchair, intent on collapsing into it and knocking out.

but you stepped in front of him, your small frame surprisingly firm. "no, you don't. you're not sittin' down in that chair lookin' like you just crawled out of a swamp." you reached out, your fingers gently touching his mud-splattered shirt. feeling the tension in his chest, hand naturally caressing the curves of his neck and shoulders. "you're filthy, daryl. day did a number on you."

daryl tried to brush your hand away. "i'm fine, woman. jus’ need a minute. why don’t you go on and fetch me a b-"

"you need a bath," you declared, giving him no time to push you away. "a real bath. a hot one." you took his hand, your grip surprisingly strong, and began to lead him towards the small bathroom.

daryl dug his heels in the floorboards, a flicker of alarm in his eyes. "a bath? what for? i ain't no lil’ girl. i'll just use the bucket outside."

"no, you won't," you countered, pulling him gently but steadily. "we need that water for my garden. you need to soak those tired muscles-” you squeezed his biceps, mostly for your own sake. “-you're gonna get properly clean, and i’m going to do it for you." 

you pushed open the bathroom door, revealing the claw-foot tub daryl… found, from a neighboring abandoned house… already filled with steaming water, a faint scent of lavender wafting through the air. you must have started it when you first heard him approaching the house.

daryl stared at the tub, then at you, his expression was uncertain, but you could tell the wheels were trying so, so hard to turn in his head. "i don’t need all this, have you been plannin'?"

"of course," you said, your smile soft. "now, let's get those boots off." you knelt before him, your hands reaching for the laces of his heavy duty boots. you pulled off one, then the other, setting them carefully by the door. his socks, soaked in mud, followed. you didn’t even want to think what he was getting into outside, thoughts of him alone to fight off walkers, stepping into a creek and losing his footing… it was too much to bear!

then, before he could fully react, you stood up straight and began to unbutton his shirt. daryl stiffened, his arms instinctively reacted to being exposed now (and wanting to show off, maybe. just maybe), a small wave of goosebumps trailed from his tricep to forearm. you carefully peeled the dirtied clothing off him, fingers unintentionally lingering for a moment longer, admiring him while you could. 

“what’re you doin, huh?” daryl’s voice was low and hoarse, eyes hooded as he watched you work along his body, rubbing and squeezing his sore muscles. he finally was starting to relax and thinking about allowing you to have your fun.

"hope you’re not complaining about a little light massage," you said simply, your eyes meeting his. you couldn’t keep the eye contact for too long, not when his tongue poked out to lick his bottom lip and gave you a look over. probably wondering why you weren’t half naked either. you moved to unbuckle his belt, reminding yourself to be respectful, you’ve got a job to do first and foremost: get this man clean.

daryl stood there, feeling exposed yet absolutely eating your attention up. this kind of nakedness, this intimacy, usually meant one thing to him- sex. yet your intent on this bath steered him otherwise. he was finding it hard to control himself- it all felt too good, too weird, too much, too little. unsure if his reaction would make you… uncomfortable. he sure as hell wanted to get straight to the point, but he was starting to settle with there being no ulterior motive. sure as hell hoped, though. 

you helped him out of his jeans, then his worn boxers. he was left standing naked, his scars and tattoos on full display, your delicate fingers tracing over them just once. being naked around his wife was nothing new, believed it was natural and felt no shame. tried to get you in on that too, but to no avail. he flexed his back for you, grinning at how quick your attention shifted, hands immediately all over him.

"all right dear, get in now," you gently pushed him forward now, ending the show early.

he stepped into the hot water, a low groan escaping his lips as his tired muscles began to finally relax. he sank down, the water rising to his chest, the heat a balm against the aches in his bones. he felt himself melting away already.

you took a seat on a small stool beside the tub, a soft cloth in your hand. you dipped it into the water, then gently began to scrub his face and beard, down his neck and shoulders, arms, then his chest.

"aye, watch it." he mumbled, trying to take the cloth from you when you pressed into a small cut by his neck.

"sorry, i know," you replied, your fingers working circles on his skin. "just try and relax babe, i’ll be careful." daryl melted even more, if possible, he hoped and prayed you couldn’t see his fingers fidgeting under water. 

your touch was light, yet thorough. you washed the dirt clean away, not just a ‘rinse off’ like he usually does. he felt the tension slowly drain from his body, replaced by a strange, almost unsettling calm. you always knew how to relax daryl, it kinda scared him.

then, you reached for a small brush a bottle of shampoo. "now, your hair."

daryl flinched, curling his lip. "naw. not that strawberry perfume fairy shit."

"it's just plain soap, honey," you soothed, shaking your head and ignoring his protest. you poured a small amount into your palm, then began to work it into his tangled hair. your fingers massaged his scalp, working through the knots and grime. it was a sensation he hadn't known he craved, a deep, soothing pleasure that made his eyes flutter closed.

he tried to resist, to maintain his masculinity and hyper-independent exterior, but you just knew how to get him to unwind again. he leaned into your touch, letting you brush through his hair, untangling the months worth of neglect. the warm water, your soft hands, the quiet hum of your contentment... he felt a profound sense of peace.

when you were done, you rinsed off his hair and soap from his body, then helped him out of the tub. you wrapped him in a thick, soft towel, patting him dry and ruffling his hair around. you slapped some lotion- you repeatedly assured was unscented and natural- all over and started the process again. his eyebrows raised in pleasure, grunting at every smooth pull of muscle, knead of your fingers, coolness of the milky treatment. he felt strangely light, floating. his skin, usually rough and beat up, felt smooth- soft. weird.

"there," you said, your voice full of quiet triumph. "now you're all clean, my honey." you reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then cupped his face. your eyes, warm and loving, gazed up at him. "my handsome man."

daryl felt a heat rise in his cheeks again, blinking sleepily slow. you leaned in: "you feel good, don't you?" you whispered, your lips brushing his. "did i do good?"

he grunted, a low, rumbling sound in his chest. "did damn good.” he held your waist securely, wrapping around your hips and smoothing over your sides.

on your toes to meet his height, you kissed him. slow and sweet, lingering. your lips were soft against his, and he found himself immediately leaning into you, hands coming up to gently cup your face.

"my big, strong man," you murmured against his lips, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "you're the best man a woman could ask for. you’re everything i dreamed about, you know."

daryl didn't say anything, but his eyes, usually so guarded, were blown wide with adoration and desire. he pulled you closer, pressing his forehead against yours. held in his wife's loving embrace, he knew- with certainty- this was where he belonged.

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood

Chapter: 5.04

Sweat drips from Father Gabriel's forehead as he leads you to his church; the outside of it was off-white with thick, dark brown wooden doors. It’s probably what discouraged most people with little weapons or strength from trying to break in.

When you reach the front steps of the church, Father Gabriel goes to unlock the door, but Rick puts his hand out in front of him. “Actually, I’d rather we check the place out first.”

Hesitantly he hands the keys over to your brother, with a defeated look on his face.

Rick and Michonne take the lead by going into the church first with their weapons raised. Maggie, Carol, Abraham, and Rosita go and check the outside of the building.

Daryl nudges you in the arm lightly, gaining your attention. “Are you coming?”

“I’m going to keep an eye out here.”

He nods, then goes inside with the others. You turn and stare at the wooded area you’ve just come from. When you felt eyes burning on you, Daryl checked for any signs someone else was nearby but found nothing. He was the best tracker you knew, but you still weren’t convinced.

“I don’t know the last time I saw a baby,” Father Gabriel says quietly. “It truly is a blessing to know that the world isn’t ending with us. Life goes on.”

You automatically look at Carol, who’s standing far enough away that she can’t hear the conversation. “Yeah, my brother and I are really lucky we’ve still got them.”

“Your brother is…?”

“Rick, the one that just took your keys.”

He lets out a nervous laugh, “well it’s nice to know that some families are still together.”

Smiling softly, you point towards Carl, who’s holding his sister. “That’s his kids, Carl and Judith, and this is Jace, my son.”

When father Gabriel waves and smiles at Jace, you start to feel bad; he has no idea of the shitstorm that could possibly be coming his way. Or maybe that’s just the feeling of paranoia after being through something so traumatic.

Changing the subject, you look over at the sign with the church's name on it. “Who’s St. Sarah?”

“Saint Sarah is the patron saint of the Romani people in Folk Catholicism. She’s viewed as a figure of comfort and hope."

The memory of the last church you attended resurfaces vividly. Rick's whistle abruptly brings you back to reality. “Place is empty; nobody is inside.”

Rick hands the keys back to father Gabriel and goes to take Judith from Carl, but before he gets the chance, Abraham is beside him, with a hell-bent look in his eyes. “We found a short bus out back. It doesn’t run, but I bet we could fix that in less than a day or two. Father here says he doesn’t want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport. You understand what’s at stake here, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

Michonne raises her eyebrows slightly. “Now that we can take a breath…”

“We take a breath, we slow down, and shit inevitably goes down.”

“We need supplies no matter what we do next,” you chime in. “Food, water, ammunition, and we need to find supplies for the kids as well.”

“Short bus ain’t going anywhere,” Daryl says before picking up the squirrels he hunted earlier and taking them into church.

As everyone starts to go into the small building, Glenn stops in front of Abraham, “one way or another, we are gonna do what Rick does; we aren’t splitting up again.”

Sasha, Bob, and Tara all tell him the same thing as they go inside. You sigh at his frustrated look when it's just the two of you on the steps. “The last couple of days have been a lot for all of us, and up until we got out, Rick thought his daughter was dead. Just give him time to process things.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

You shrug, “whatever he thinks the safest option is, but if you want my honest advice, don’t badger him. Rick’s never responded well to it; he needs to see things for himself before making a decision.”

—

Daryl’s fingers dig into the wooden drawer, taking most of the weight of it when picking it up from opposite sides. There was a removable panel on the floor in one of the back rooms, which was partially covered by the drawer.

“Do you think he knows this is here?”

“No,” Daryl lets out a grunt when you put the heavy object against the wall. He pulls open the bottom drawer. “clean it out and put a few blankets in it; it should be safe for Jace and Judith to sleep in.”

“Good eye.”

You move the rug on the floor to cover the panel; it was better to have the hidden escape a secret for now. Daryl only found it because he went into the crawl space from the outside.

“We could probably fit five people in this room. It might be safer for you and the kids to sleep in here, at least if there’s a way out.”

Gently you tuck strands of hair behind his ear before stroking his cheek. Even though none of you will ever feel safe again, gazing into his blue eyes makes you feel more at ease knowing he's alive. You swallowed deeply, grateful for the presence of so many people you care about, yet the fear of losing them was nearly overwhelming.

Sighing, you remove your hand. “we should get ready.”

The majority of your group was going to the nearby town to search for supplies. Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene were going to work on fixing the bus while Carol and Daryl went to collect water.

“Wait, wait just a minute.”

Daryl holds you by the wrist, his thumb drawing small circles over your skin. His touch leaves you feeling hot and itchy, but when he doesn’t say anything, you grow worried. “Daryl, what is it?”

“I just wanted to look at you for a minute longer.”

Your eyes sweep over his face, and it takes everything in you to not burst into tears. His bruised and swollen face looks so painful, and although he hadn’t outright said it, you knew Daryl would be blaming himself for Beth being taken. All you wanted to do was take his pain away.

“I can see the wheels turning behind your eyes; what is it?”

It takes you a moment to figure out how to answer him. “I’m scared. Those people are still out there; we shouldn’t be splitting up; it’s not safe.”

“The supply run will be fine with Rick leading it, and as soon as red has the bus working, we’ll get the hell out of here.” When a single tear rolls down your cheek, he steps forward and wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m scared of myself,” you say quietly. “When they pointed a gun at my head and ripped Jace from my arms, I knew I’d do anything to get him back, even if it meant killing every one of them.”

He kisses the crown of your head, then pulls you into him; his stubble rubs against your face. “That’s because you’re a good mom.”

“Promise me you’ll be safe out there. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back to you.”

—

Sitting on the steps of the church, you smile when Carl comes and sits down, his dad’s sheriff's hat scuffing the side of your face. The sun was splitting through the tree line, so you’d left Jace inside while you kept watch, not wanting his face to burn.

You shuffle over slightly, then look at him. “You doing okay, munchkin?”

He looks hesitant at first but eventually speaks, “…do you remember the last time we were at a church?”

“It was the day you got shot.”

Your head had been racing since finding this place; it brought back everything leading up to the church as well. Dale was trying to tell you there was something wrong with Jace’s hearing. T-dog slicing his arm while he tried to get you away from the oncoming herd of walkers, finding out the smell of the dead keeps walkers away, Sophia running away. It was easy to forget everyone has different trauma from that day.

“Shane killed Otis to save me.”

Taken aback, you've made every effort to conceal everything from Carl, but it wasn't enough. In a low voice you say, “nothing he ever did was on us. Shane, god, he… Shane loved us; he loved your dad, his son, but he became unwell. Unraveled. The man he died as wasn’t the same person who was there while you grew up; his own fears and paranoia got the better of him.”

“My dad always says I’m to look for the silver linings, even in bad situations.”

“Cool scar?”

Carl chuckles, and the first real smile you’ve seen in a long time appears on his face. “If I was never shot, then we never would have met Maggie, Hershel, or Beth. My dad doesn’t trust Father Gabriel.”

“Do you?”

“I think he’s just scared. But looking out for others is the right thing; it’s what my mom would want me to do.”

The look in his eyes reminds you, Lori, she was compassionate and would have done anything to help those in need. The person Lori was before and after the apocalypse was different, but who hadn’t changed? The sister-in-law you knew from years ago would be agreeing with her son.

You place your hand over his, “she would be so proud of you, Carl.”

He starts to say something, but Rick comes into view and calls you both over to help bring in the supplies they’ve found.

—

“Sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m fine for now, but thanks.”

Folding her arms over, Rosita shakes her head, “you’ve been on watch most of the day. And in case you’ve forgotten, you need to keep your strength up.”

Since the group came back from the supply run, the others had taken turns to join you in keeping watch. Aside from checking on Jace, who was being watched over by Maggie, you stayed outside. The gut feeling you had was preventing you from settling; something wasn’t right.

“I’m sure they will be back soon?”

“Who?”

Rosita rolls her eyes playfully. “I don’t know Daryl well, but from what you told me, he’s a survivor.“

Daryl and Carol had been gone for hours. They left fairly early, and it was now nighttime. Maybe if they were back, you wouldn’t feel so uneasy. Knowing Rosita was right, you sigh, “once you’ve all finished eating, I’ll swap.”

Happy that she got you to agree, she smiles and goes back inside. “Abraham and I will take over from you guys soon.”

—

Forehead creasing together, you go slightly further out of the perimeter you would keep watch over than discussed. After circling around three times in search of Bob, a sinking feeling began to develop in the depths of your stomach.

With the darkness making it harder to see, you hold onto a small tree to help keep you steady while glancing down a steep hill in front of you. It’s not until your finger runs over a smooth patch on the tree that you finally look at it; squinting, you take in the smooth mark on it.

It was a marking done by a knife.

Not having a chance to put the pieces together, the crunch of branches coming from behind causes you to spin fast on your heels and come face to face with a blonde-headed woman that you recognize from terminus.

Twirling an axe in her hand, she goes to raise her hand, but you stab her under the chin with a pocket knife. She drops her weapon while scrambling to pull the knife from her face; you take the opportunity and kick her in the stomach, causing her to fall down the hill.

“Fuck.”

Slowly backing away from her body, it takes you a few seconds to process what just happened; you grab her axe and rush back towards the church.

Completely out of breath by the time you reach the doors, you shove them open forcefully and then stumble to your knees. The adrenaline you were running was starting to crash, causing you to feel shaky and weak. You feel stunned for a moment while staring at the axe; now in the light, you can see how much blood is on it. It looks like equipment fitting for a slaughterhouse.

Just as you toss it to the side, just as Rick kneels in front of you, “is the blood yours?”

You shake your head.

“What the hell happened out there? Are you hurt?”

Sasha looks outside the doorway. “Where's Bob?”

“They’ve found. The people from Terminus know we are here, and I think they have Bob."

[pinkandblueblurbs]

baked

daryl dixon x fem!reader. marijuana, high sex, penetrative sex, lazy sex, giggly sex, light d/s dynamics, praise, unsafe sex, unprotected sex, creampie, sex with feelings

word count: 1.6k

“Mm… this feels so nice.” You grin at him dopily as the high starts to kick in. He lets out an amused huff.

“Yeah, I bet.”

“Don’t you feel somethin?”

“I feel somethin’, sure. But I ain’t where you are, sunshine.”

 He can see it in your eyes how gone you are. Your pupils are blown even wider than they are when he fucks you, your lids are permanently at half mast. Not to mention the pauses you take— there’s a couple of full beats before you process his words and let out a giggle in response.

“Dunno what you mean by that, I’m riiight here.” You drawl, sitting up from where you’d slumped into the back of the sofa and crawling over to Daryl. It’s slow and lazy, the way you move yourself onto his lap, and he watches patiently with his hands hovering until you’re settled and they can come to rest on your hips. Your own hands reach out to cup his face.

“Y’so pretty,” you say admiringly, trailing your eyes over his features. His cheeks warm under your palms.

“Shuddup.” He grunts. You smile, leaning down to kiss him. He kisses you back, like he always does, but slows it down for you, letting you melt into it as it consumes your foggy brain.

“Daryl,” you gasp out into his mouth when you pull back ever so slightly, your hand gripping onto his and leading it from your hip to your breast. He indulges you, groping at the flesh there and making your eyes flutter shut. The soft breathy sigh you let out makes his cock stir in his pants. “I want more.”

“Y’sure about that?” His voice has lowered with arousal, but the eyes that meet yours are sharp. “Yer pretty baked, kid.”

Your head bobbles in a clumsy nod, fingers curling around his other hand to tug it down to the apex of your thighs. Despite the fog that’s settled in your brain you’ve never been more sure of anything. “Please.”

Daryl’s breath hitches. The weed’s made you shameless, and it’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, alright.” His fingers are rubbing over your clothed pussy, making you moan already, and his other hand abandons your breast to support your back so he can shift your bodies and lay you down on the sofa with him above you.

He unzips the fly of your pants and you shimmy your hips to help him pull them off, giggling with the movement. The ends of Daryl’s lips just barely quirk into a smile. Your underwear come off next.

“You gonna let me eat this pretty pussy?” He rasps once he has you bare from the waist down. There’s another pause where Daryl can see the gears in your head turning, and he’s a bit surprised when a small pout settles on your lips and you shake your head.

“Want you inside me.” You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding him closer, “‘n I want your mouth up here.”

“Yeah?” He cups your face, calloused thumb tracing the pillow of your lower lip. His cock twitches when your lips fall open, inviting the digit to slip past.

“Mhm,” you hum as he strokes his thumb over your tongue.  He can’t stand the way you’re looking up at him— eyes dazed and flooded black, lashes kissing your cheeks with every slow blink, your mouth slack with his thumb resting inside. You look like a fucking wet dream.

“Can’t say no to that.” He slides his thumb out and when he leans down his tongue quickly replaces it. 

He unzips his own fly now, clumsily working his way out his pants without breaking away from your kiss. That has you giggling into his mouth again— you feel so light that the laughter comes easily, rising out of you like bubbles. Daryl smiles against your lips. Part of you wishes you could see it, but feeling it is almost better.

“Yer so fuckin’ cute,” he breathes out. Your heart soars.

“Love you so much,” you respond in a whisper, grasping the sides of his head, fingers threading through his hair. “Please fuck me, Daryl. Need it now, please—“

“I know, I know.” He reaches down to position his cock at your pussy, the tip of it catching on your entrance and sliding inside. You choke on a gasp as he thrusts in, slow and steady, until he’s fully seated, the head pressed against your g-spot. 

It’s overwhelming, even more than usual. You squeeze your eyes shut and the rest of the world fades into the background. All you can feel is his cock inside you, the locks of his hair between your fingers, the presence of his body above you. 

“I got you,” he soothes, staring down at your face, knowing how intense the sensations must be with you like this. “That feel good?”

“So good,” it’s so quiet he barely catches it. You think that you should probably say more, but you aren’t sure what. You want everything and you want nothing— you want him to move, to fuck you into the couch cushions, and you want him to stay just like this forever with his cock nestled deep inside you. 

Another desperate “please,” is what you settle on. 

Somehow, miraculously, Daryl knows what you need. You feel his lips on yours, familiar and reassuring. It’s a grounding kiss, brings you back to yourself just enough, leaves you feeling just the right amount of floaty. His tongue joins yours inside your mouth and it sends a rush of arousal through you. 

Then he rolls his hips slightly, and you let out the prettiest breath of a moan he’s ever heard. He repeats the movement right away, starting up a slow pace, desperate to hear you make it again— and he’s immediately rewarded when you do. He’d fuck you for hours just to listen to that sound.

“Tha’s it,” He rasps against the shell of your ear. Your hands move down from his hair, seeking the warmth of skin, and you whimper when you’re met with the feeling of cotton against your fingertips. You scramble for contact, slipping your hands up under the hem of his shirt so you can press your palms against the firm, balmy muscle of his chest. Your face morphs into a dopey grin, sweet gasps of “uh–uh” leaving your lips with every thrust of his hips. 

“Y’like that? That feel good?” Daryl presses hot kisses to your neck after murmuring the words, making you shiver in pleasure.

“Yes, Daryl.” You breathe out, fingers curling around the sides of his abdomen, gripping on tight and digging crescent moons into his skin. “Please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine.” The hand not supporting himself moves to grope at your breast, roughly kneading at the soft skin, and you moan when his thumb rubs across your nipple–bolts of electricity zip to the very tips of your toes. “Wanna make you feel real good. Make you cum f’me.”

You whimper, squirming, gazing up at him with bleary eyes. He lets out a breathless chuckle at the vacant look of them, though internally affection squeezes at his heart. 

“Can you do that, pup? Can you cum for me?” He encourages. Calloused fingertips trail down your body until they’re between your thighs and can rub precise circles over your clit. You let out a moan, squeezing your eyes closed at the intense feeling.

“Yes! Daryl, please.” He keeps going, rubbing your clit with his fingers and pounding into you with his cock, watching your body arch below him as your pleasure mounts.

 “Daryl, Daryl, Daryl–” His name becomes a chant, the only word you can fathom, and the needy, reverent way you say it has him groaning into your neck. He never thought he’d hear someone say his name like that. 

“Tha’sa girl,” His low voice reverberates through you. “Cum for me, c’mon now.”

Your body lights up like a firecracker. An intense, tingling pleasure that you’ve never experienced takes over you. It’s overwhelming sensation, blinding white ecstasy that knocks the air from your lungs and makes you tighten like a vice around Daryl’s cock– and then, right when it’s about to be too much, it’s numb relief, leaving you floating in soft bliss. 

Daryl grunts as he spills into you, the rhythmic clenching of your orgasm sending him over the edge. The warmth of his release further lulls you as you come down from your peak. You let out a content hum.

“Y’alright?” Daryl’s voice is hoarse, rough with sex. You smile, peeling your droopy eyes open to look at him as he pants above you.

“That was unreal,” you murmur, rubbing your hands up and down his balmy sides, still reveling in the feel of his skin.  “I see why people get addicted to this stuff.”

“Sex, or weed?” He quips in his usual deadpan, making you giggle. 

You pull him down for a quick kiss before replying with a shrug. “Both, I guess. But only if it’s sex with you.”

“Ain’t you sweet.” He sounds sarcastic, like he’s teasing, but you know he means it deep down by the way he tenderly rubs his thumb over your lower lip and looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars. 

He works an arm under you so he can roll you both over, letting you settle atop him, his softening cock still inside you. You let your eyes fall closed, head still pleasantly fuzzy. You hum as peace washes over you.

“Don’t wanna get cleaned up.” You murmur. Daryl lets out a satisfied huff and folds an arm behind his head. His other hand moves up and down your back in an absentminded soothing motion that has you melting into him.

“Me neither.” He watches you for a moment, so relaxed atop his chest. He closes his own eyes. “We’ll stay like this awhile.”

“Me neither.” He watches you for a moment, so relaxed atop his chest. He closes his own eyes. “We’ll stay like this awhile.”

“Don’t wanna get cleaned up.” You murmur. Daryl lets out a satisfied huff and folds an arm behind his head. His other hand moves up and down your back in an absentminded soothing motion that has you melting into him.

“Me neither.” He watches you for a moment, so relaxed atop his chest. He closes his own eyes. “We’ll stay like this awhile.”

[daydreamingstories]

I just wanted to let you all know that @just-a-hardcore-simp-who-writes hast stolen my fic After the Bridge.

This is theirs.

And here's mine

Also some screenshot from mine

And theirs.

I guess Tumblr won't do anything but at least I wanted to let my followers know.

[rainedravens]

"holy shit they finally confessed, what comes next--"

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute

[bethsvrse]

me staring at my ceiling after y/n does the most FLABBERGASTING thing ever

[shoot1ngst4r]

going out of your way to search up [insert character] ANGST and all you get is smut

[12welveinched]

Me after clicking a p link thinking it was a fic rec.

Jumpscare.

[scftangl]

Me, getting distracted for a moment in just in smut and now I don't know what position they are in:

[itshelia]

My mom to her friends, my aunts, and literally everyone she knows: Yeah, my kid is so smart. She is on her phone a lot of the time, but it's not like you guys think, She is not like how kids nowadays are, She reads a lot of books on her phone!!

Me, a fanfic reader who can survive off nothing but just words and day dreams herself to sleep:

[degenrcy]

country life -> daryl dixon/f!reader

just husband and wife life :)

no warnings, no zombies around, just daryl is a real traditional alpha husband with a lovely wife. hints of misogyny but its daryl and not real

Important: My account and everything i post is MDNI, and i do not recommend looking through my account for anything else, unless you are prepared to read through my pinned and take caution. I feel like im getting a lot of new attention with a fluff story, but its something ive never had on here.

the morning sun beamed, slanting through the opaque kitchen window of the small, hand built house. the rays painted stripes across the worn linoleum floor, natural light filling the rooms of your home slowly, but surely. the air outside was thick with humidity, but inside was filled to the brim with the scent of frying bacon and rich coffee, wafted over by fresh baked bread in the oven. you, standing proper with long hair pulled back in a loose braid, moved with practiced ease between the skillet and the table. donned in a floral apron, faded but clean, was tied neatly around your slender waist.

"mornin', darlin'," daryl emerged from the bedroom with a grunt. despite rubbing the sleep from his eyes and open mouth yawning, he was already dressed in his usual uniform: a faded flannel shirt, jeans that had seen better days, and scuffed work boots. his hair, that long and perpetually disheveled hair you loved to twirl around, some faint tufts of facial hair shadowing his jaw. he didn't bother with any please’s or thank you’s or any other pleasantries- just settled into his designated spot at the head of the kitchen table, pulling out a chair with a scrape. you knew just how to fall in place.

you turned, a soft smile gracing your honey-balmed lips. "mornin', honey. coffee’s brewed, and bacon’s almost done." you poured his mug full, the dark liquid steaming and flowing into the air. placed it precisely to his right, just as he liked it. his large hand was already set in motion to pick it up, like clockwork.

daryl took a long sip, slurping loudly as he eyed your figure.  "…took you long enough with that bacon. thought that pig i killed was gon’ die for nothing."

your smile didn't falter. "just wanted to make sure it was perfect for you, daryl." you slid a platter piled high with crispy bacon, eggs cooked to perfection, and golden biscuits onto the table. there was a small assortment of butter and jams for you two to use as desired. you finally sat opposite him, plate modest, popping some berries you picked onto your tongue.

daryl dug in, not looking up. "woman’s place really is in the kitchen, ain't that right? keepin' a man fed and happy." he chuckled, rough and gravelly. that morning voice, it could melt you away.

"that’s right, honey," you murmured, gaze tender as you watched him eat. took you a while before you finally cut into your biscuit, spreading some jam on the steaming, soft inside. you poured a glass of sweet tea, taking a quiet sip to wash it down. you loved the quiet rhythm of the mornings, all the familiar sounds and smells. treating your husband to a proper breakfast, knowing you are going to set the motion of the rest of his day. it was a comfort, something sacred in a world that was otherwise unpredictable and tainted.

right as he finished eating, daryl pushed back from the table. "gonna head out to the woods. check some traps, maybe bag a squirrel or two for supper." he stood, stretching his broad shoulders and groaning. that meant food was good, but now he had the energy to get started on some work. 

"got that washin' done yet? and don't forget to patch up that tear in my good hunting jacket, alright?” he pointed at you, but you already knew your chore list for today. always did.

"yes, daryl," you drawled with a grin, already gathering the plates. "the wash is already done, just hangin' it all out. i’ll get right to your jacket. don’t you worry."

"good," he grunted, giving you a curt nod before heading out the back door, his heavy boots thudding on the porch steps. 

you watched him go, a warmth spreading through your chest. he was a man of few words, rough around the edges, but he was your man. provided for you, protected, and in his own rough and unconventional way, loved you. you knew it, deep in your bones. he might not say the words often, but he showed it in the way he made sure you had a warm roof over your heads, food on the table, and the occasional bunch of wild flowers he’d pluck from trails and leave at your bedside or in the small, glass bottle vase on the kitchen window. places you’d always be, always see.

you spent the day immersed in your little chores, humming softly as you worked. the laundry was hung on lines strung between two ancient oak trees, still standing after years of turmoil and natural, yet harsh, weathers. you carefully mended that tear in daryl’s jacket, fingers nimble with needle and thread. you remembered the time you had to stitch up a cut on daryl’s arm. he talked you through it, reminding you: “ain’t i the one with the cut? stop shaking, you ain’t hurt. i got you, just push it through at the end there…”

apple pie was in the oven, the sweet, cinnamon-laced aroma filling the house. last time you tried to make pie, you burned it, this was your chance to make it up to him. when it happened, the kitchen was burnt for a while- not many cleaning supplies left in the world and only so much airing out did. you tried to keep the house smelling good, hated when you could smell the rot bleeding in from outside.

it was now late afternoon, and as the shadows lengthened outside, daryl finally returned. a couple squirrels slung over his shoulder, and he dropped them quite rudely on the porch.

"got 'em," he announced, wiping his brow with the back of his thumb. "i’ll skin 'em and you get 'em ready for the pot. where's my supper? i’m starvin'." he held a palm to his stomach, almost like a child. 

"welcome home, honey!" you said, stepping onto the porch, a soft towel in your hand. you wiped some of the sweat and grime from his face. "it’s all set up for you. I made your favorite for dessert too… apple pie~" you felt a bit shy, knowing you messed it up last time. 

daryl grunted, a flicker of something that might have been approval in his eyes. "shit, that sounds real good. hope this one came out right.” he headed inside, dropping into his armchair by the small, flickering television.

you set about your final big task, hands moving quickly and efficiently as you prepared daryl’s plate. you’d think back about how some women used to complain about this kind of life, but when you met dary, you knew immediately. you would be the type of woman to take care of her husband, no matter what. your vows promised that, and you two have been put to the test since what happened in the world. million times better than even thinking about how you’d fend for yourself.

as you two sat at the dinner table, the rich aroma of the stew you cooked all day filled the small kitchen, and daryl ate up heartily. "this is damn good, woman," he said between mouthfuls. "you done real good today."

you beamed. "i’m glad you like it, daryl."

"course’ I like it. you cooked it all for me, didn't ya?" he took another heaping spoonful. "you make sure you got enough stew put up for tomorrow? I ain't got time to be waitin' around for you to cook all day again."

"yes, honey, there's plenty left over," you assured him. "I'll even pack you a lunch for when you go fishing tomorrow."

"that’s my girl," he said, a rare, almost-smile gracing his lips. he finished his stew, then pushed his plate away. you got up smoothly to take the bowl away. he slapped your ass when you stood by him, giving a quick squeeze that made you giggle cutely. "alright, pie time. don’t tell me you forgot now." that same hand-on-belly pose, stretching his back over the chair.

"never," you feigned an offended gasp, rising to fetch it. you sliced up a generous piece for him, serving it warm with a fork tucked underneath the flaky bottom.

as daryl devoured his pie, you watched him, heart full. you almost dared to imagine him devouring you. he was rough, yes, and sometimes the things he said could seem demanding and ungrateful, but you understood him- more than he did himself. he was a product of these woods, of this way of life and his family before. he expected you to be a certain way too: fulfill certain duties, care for the house he built you, care of the life you’ve built. and you did so willingly and with love and respect. 

you knew his heart, even if he kept it carefully guarded. you saw the way he’d fix a leaky faucet without being asked, or how he’d stand guard over you when you were out picking berries, his crossbow ever at the ready, even though there were no walkers here, just the occasional flutter of a bird or a small animal too quick for daryl to catch in the moment.

after the bountiful dinner and dessert, daryl settled into his armchair, popping a tape in the TV. probably a recording of a show or film he found. you cleared the table, washed the dishes off, and then sat on the small sofa opposite him, taking up some knitting. the only sounds were the low murmur of the television and wind blowing branches and leaves around outside.

"you gonna be up all night with that?" daryl asked without looking away from the screen.

"just a little longer, honey," you replied softly. "makin’ a new blanket, winter’ll be comin’ down soon."

"alright," he grunted. "just… don't be up too late. you don’t sleep, you start slackin’. you’re no slacker.”

"of course, daryl," the corner of your lips quipped, eyes still focused on your work. you knew what he actually meant- even though his words come off aggressive, he’s playing it up for you. you knew he just wanted to talk to you a little longer, even if he thinks he has to command you to bed soon. maybe he wants to go to bed early, cuddle some.

night fell and as husband and wife lay in bed, the sounds of crickets chirping outside their open window, daryl turned onto his side, his back to her. "g’night, y/n."

"goodnight, daryl," you whispered, and then, a moment later, "i love you."

there was a long pause, and she thought he might be asleep. then, a low murmur, almost went unheard. "yeah.. you too."

it wasn't a grand declaration, not a passionate embrace, but for you, it was more than enough. you were emotionally secure enough to know: it was just daryl. his way of saying it, his way of showing that beneath that hardened exterior, there was a man who cared, a man who relied on you. a man who loved you through it all. you snuggled closer, pressing your back against his broad, warm one, and closed your eyes, settling down, nestled into your husbands protective presence. he pulled up the blanket further, covering your body fully and having just a sliver to himself. another reason you knew.

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 5.05

Using a damp cloth, Michonne helps to wipe the blood that’s starting to dry off your skin. Breaking out in a sweat, your heart hammers in your chest; Daryl and Carol haven’t come back from collecting water, and the small search party out looking for Bob hasn’t returned.

Whimpering pulls you from your thoughts; you look over at Carl, who was holding your fussing son.

Father Gabriel speaks up from his place near the door, breaking the near silence in the room. “They are our future; humanity’s not dead—we still have hope.”

“Maybe there are survivors, but humanity is gone.”

Just as you go to stand with the intention of taking Jace from Carl, you hear a loud noise coming from outside that startles everyone. Just as you reach for your knife, a gunshot rings out, and Abraham, Rosita, Michonne, and you all aim your weapons at the main door, expecting to see an intruder, but the doors burst open and Rick stumbles inside. “We need help moving him!”

“Him?”

As you rush outside on the heels of Glenn, you hear Rick say, “Maggie, Tara, we need to make space.”

Before you know it, you’re standing on the dirt path staring down at Bob’s bloody body. Your chest tightens when you notice why Sasha is so frantic; now that your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, you can see clearly that Bob’s left leg from the knee down was amputated.

—

Once inside, you help place Bob on a blanket on the floor of the church. Maggie brings a first aid kit out from the back room, but Bob shakes his head; he didn’t want any more help.

Sweat drips from his forehead as he starts to wheeze. “I was in the graveyard, and somebody knocked me out, a woman, I think. I just remember seeing a lot of blonde hair, then everything went dark. I woke up outside this place; it looked like a school. They were eating my leg in front of me, like it was nothing. All proud, like they had it all figured out.”

Rick asks the question you’ve been too afraid to voice. “Did they have Daryl and Carol?”

“Gareth said they drove off.”

Sasha struggles to hold back tears and, forcing a smile, says, “you need to take some painkillers.”

“No… I don’t want it wasted on me.” Bob pulls the collar of his top down, letting you all see a chunk of flesh that’s been bitten from his shoulder. “It happened at the food bank.”

The wound wasn’t a human bite; it was from a walker.

—

Noticing the look of devastation on Rick’s face, you try and comfort him, squeezing at his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

“Bob… he’s… I didn’t know…”

Bob was resting on the sofa in the church's office.

“I know, but it was his choice to keep it to himself,” you say quietly. “I know this is a bad time, but we’ve still got two people missing; those freaks are probably outside waiting to see what we do next, and there is a school ten minutes away full of walkers. We need a plan.”

The room briefly falls silent until Abraham gets to his feet. “Alright, people, it’s time for a reality check; we all need to leave for DC right now.”

“We aren’t going anywhere without Daryl and Carol, and we can’t travel with Bob…”

“Look, I respect not wanting to split up your family, but there’s a clear threat to Eugene. I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y’all won’t come, good luck to you. We’ll go our separate ways.”

Both Eugene and Rosita follow the redhead hesitantly. After all the time you’ve spent together, this wasn’t how you imagined you’d all go your separate ways. Scoffing, Rick says, “you leaving on foot?”

“We fixed that damn bus ourselves.”

Rick’s tone goes dangerously low, “there are a lot more of us.”

“You want to keep it that way? You should come.”

Rick and Abraham go back and forth in circles. Eventually Glenn intervenes and tries to calm the situation down. “Do you really think that you’re going to be any safer leaving right now in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah,” Abraham nods. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

“It’s pitch black out there, and for all we know, they have slashed the tires on the bus or are waiting inside it. You should wait until morning.”

Tara suddenly stands. “If you stay one more day, I’ll go with you to DC.”

Abraham waits a beat before replying, “Glenn and Maggie, too.”

“Absolutely not.”

When Rick and Abraham start to charge at each other, still heated from their argument, you jump between them and shake your head at the redhead. “You’re the one who told me we’d kill every one of those sons of bitches when they took Jace. But we didn’t, and now they are going to keep coming back and pick us off one by one.”

“That’s exactly why I, Rosita, and Eugene are getting the hell out of here.”

He goes to pick up his backpack to leave, but you call out to him, “help me, help me stop them.”

Knowing that Abraham still wasn’t fully convinced, Glenn steps forward: “if you stay and help us, me and Maggie will go with you to Washington.”

Your heart sinks; you didn’t want your group to split up, but you respected Glenn a lot for what he was willing to do.

—

The atmosphere is tense; everyone is too afraid to speak in case it causes another argument within the group. The loud voices from before had drawn in a few stray walkers, but thankfully the unexpected caused them to be drawn to another noise in the distance.

Gently rocking your arms while staying out of view from the window, you suddenly get an idea. “The lasker trap,” you mumble before addressing the rest of the room. “The governor was much smarter than them, and he fell for I bet they would as well.”

Rosita raises her brows questioningly, “fell for…”

Maggie tells everyone who wasn’t present at the prison a short version of what happened with the governor. It was risky, but you were running out of options; those people could attack at the church at any moment, or they could be waiting for Carol and Daryl to return and grab them then. Going head-to-head with the people from terminus was the only way to end it.

“We don’t have the same supplies as we did then,” Glenn says. “Plus, we don’t have Beth and Hershel to watch over Judith and Jace.”

Rosita gets to her feet. “I’ll do it; I’ll keep them safe.”

Abraham gives her a pointed look. “Eugene stays here. He’s not a fighter.”

You nod in agreement.

Rick licks at his lips, “okay then, let’s come up with a plan.”

—

While the others quickly reloaded their weapons, you took Carl into the back room and showed him the secret escape in the floorboard. You hand him a bag with food rations, water, and ammo along with the keys to the bus. “If things go south, you take Jace and Judith and run. You don’t stop to look for us; you just keep going.”

“No, I’m not leaving you or my dad.”

“Carl—“

“This will work,” he says confidently. “It had to; I’m not losing anyone else.”

Pulling him into a tight hug, you let out a deep sigh. “I hope it works, kid, but if it doesn’t look good, promise me you’ll go. I can’t go out there without knowing you, Jace, and Judith are safe.”

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees. “Aunt Lil?”

“Yeah.”

“Daryl will be okay.”

—

Your group splits into two, with Tyreese and Rosita staying behind in the church to protect the kids along with father Gabriel and Eugene, although you suspect Carl would be much better at keeping them safe than the latter.

“We’ve got this,” Sasha whispers as you start to walk away from the church. “Just don’t look back; if they know we know, it’s all over.”

“I’m sorry about Bob.”

“It’s not your fault.”

When the church almost disappears behind the thick trees, you all crouch down and wish. Rick counts until three minutes and then raises his hand for the group to return.

You and Maggie scout the outside of the church while the others go directly inside. With all the candles out and torches turned off, half of the church hall was cast into darkness by a shadow. You tap your foot twice on the steps as previously discussed and make your way into the main hall with the brunette by your side. Just as you enter, Rick shoots two men in the head who are about to unlock the office door; their blood splatters across the church walls.

“Put your guns on the floor.”

Panicked Gareth stares in the shadow, trying to figure out your brother’s location. “Rick, we’ll fire right into that office. So you lower your gun…”

Rick shoots him in the hand, causing him to cry out in pain. Slowly, he steps out into the moonlight and says, “Put your guns on the floor and kneel.”

All of them get to their knees aside from one man, whining. Gareth gazes up at him, his teeth clenched. “Martin, there’s no choice here.”

“Yeah, there is.”

From what Tyreese and Carol told you, Martin is the man who had his hands wrapped around Judith’s neck. Abraham emerges beside him, pointing his gun at Martin. “Want a bet?

Gasping in pain Gareth looks up at your brother and says, “There’s no point in begging, right?”

“No.”

“Still, you could have killed us when you came in. There had to be a reason for that.”

The deadly look in your brother's gaze turns your blood cold. He cocks his head to the side and says, “We didn’t want to waste the bullets.”

Slowly you backed up and stood by the open door under the pretense of keeping watch, but in reality you just didn’t want to watch what was about to happen. No doubt there was a twisted irony when you were the one who came up with this plan but didn’t want to actually kill anyone. Not again.

“I already made you a promise.” Rick raises his machete and hacks Gareth in the neck.

Michonne, Sasha, Abraham, and Rick let out all their pent-up anger as they brutally beat the survivors from terminus to death.

They needed to die.

But it was still horrid to see.

When the door from the office creaks open, you practically leap over the backed-up bodies on the ground and shove Carl back inside, shielding him. The inside of the church was covered in red blood splatters that painted the floors and walls, which was something Carl didn’t need to see.

—

The last twenty-four hours have been agonizing. Not only did the incident at the church happen, but Bob was dead. The dirt from digging his grave is still fresh underneath your nails, and Daryl and Carol have yet to return.

“It feels weird without them.”

Smiling, you crouch down to help your nephew scrub at the blood-stained floor. Chances are the blood would never fully wash away, but it felt good to help remove as much as you could. “Yeah, but we will see them again. Glenn and Maggie are survivors.”

After Maggie, Glenn, and Tara left to go to DC with Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene, everyone remaining was emotionally exhausted. It didn’t take long for people to start falling asleep in the two back rooms, aside from whoever was on watch, which right now was Michonne.

“So I'm awake because I was checking on the babies. Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I keep having the same dream or nightmare.”

Concerned, you stop scrubbing and ask, “What’s your dream about?”

Carl goes to answer you, but he’s cut off when the main door creaks open and two sets of footsteps enter. You don’t even need to look down the aisle to know whose the heavier footfall belongs to.

“Daryl.”

“I’m going to wake my dad,” Carl whispers.

Daryl starts to walk towards you and waves for a kid who looks to be around sixteen or seventeen to follow him inside. “Michonne told me what happened—”

“Where were you?”

[natti-ice]

every time i remember my favorite person isn’t real

[daydreamingstories]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Thank you so much for tagging me into this.

I think my favorite could be:

Hot Cocoa

Silence

The first to blow your mind

It's a dog's life

No need for jealousy