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So I just heard someone say that some promotional material for Layton confirms that Unwound Future takes place in 1963. If this is the case, I’ve attempted to do some math (as someone who never learned to count, quite difficult, and please grant me some room for error) and I think I have some numbers that are interesting.
He’s 34 in Last Specter. If we add four years for the events of the trilogies and say he’s 37 in '63.
Then if we add thirteen years to get him to 50 (how I got fifty for that number is a sidebar that involves Luke’s ages so I’m not going to get into it now) when he goes missing and we’re up to '76
Add eleven to account for the time he’s [redacted for spoiler purposes] and then that’s when Kat’s game occurs, and for the sake of simplicity, say Alfendi’s is set either concurrently or right around the same time, then Mystery Journey and Mystery Room take place in 1987.
Which gives us birth years for the Layton’s as Kat was born in '66, Alfendi was born in '58, and the professor was born in '26.
We can also use this math to do a really interesting thing which is place the flashback sections in Miracle Mask as '43, meaning that all of that happened smack dab in the middle of World War II.
So….. do with that what you will, I guess.
#professor Layton#Layton’s mystery journey#layton brothers mystery room#Layton family#Hershel Layton#Alfendi layton#Katrielle Layton#I mean it’s all agreed it’s an alternate universe right#I mean if you take the crossover as being canon than that forces the timeline forward by a very significant amount#I’m also still not entirely sure what promotional material the person was talking about#but these are the numbers for if they were right#idk exactly what history looked like in England but#thinking about Layton as having survived the Great Depression#and the mental state that they all would have been in as teenagers#having just survived the blitz#man.#queue takumi defense squad
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yeah this is exactly the difference between the three crews. Alternate Crew is depressed and bargaining with Inkling to let them go back to the Octopod safely, Beta Crew out here living their best lives before they inevitably implode, and Player Crew can’t go 5 minutes without the Cha Cha Slide
#misery x cpr x reese's puffs#i might make a full vid about this concept but for now… alas#giggles as i tag the available characters#octonauts#captain barnacles#shellington octonauts#professor inkling#hershel’s octonauts au#……..#deltarune k k#yeah. yeah that funky fellar is here#other ocs#three generations of octonauts and they just get wackier than the last#i love how the first gen is pretty normal (beta) then the second is knowing the ropes (alternate)#second gen does go downhill quite a few times but they’re holding up#third gen is a MESS and i mean that in a loving way (player)#also Cha Cha Slide here usually refers to a event in which manual control goes haywire and throws everyone around#here i’m using it as a broader term for Chaos which happens. every hosting now :) i love it here
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I’m thinking about the new Layton game, and while it would be fun to see old characters again like Flora, Emmy, or Descole, I feel like realistically the story’s going to be more standalone, with the only returning characters being Layton, Luke and maybe Inspector Chelmey and Barton
It’s been a long time since we’ve had a proper Layton game, and now with it coming to Switch, meaning it’ll reach a much larger audience than it likely ever did on the 3DS, meaning a lot of people who have never played the other games, so I feel like chances are they’ll want to play it safe, at least for this game, so that they can test the waters and see how receptive people are to a new Layton game. Also it’s likely meant to give us a return to formula
If they make more games afterwards, then bringing back old characters from the franchise might be more likely, but here I don’t think so
#professor layton#professor layton and the new world of steam#hershel layton#luke triton#I just feel like I should say this now so that we have expectations properly set#I remember seeing an old trailer for Katrielle’s game on YouTube#and in the comments there were plenty of people going for continuations of plot lines#or the return of old characters#only for that not to be the case#and let’s be real the series has always been a bit more standalone in terms of its adventures#the prequels were intertwined but they weren’t all directly tied to one another with a big overarching mystery#I mean there were a few like Descole and these ancient ruins#but those weren’t like the major mystery of each game#where am I going with this. I need to get back on track#my point is we probably shouldn’t expect much other than maybe a few subtle references to other games/characters#would I like to see characters like Flora and Emmy and Descole again? absolutely#but it’s probably not going to happen#I could very well be proven wrong later but for now#let’s just keep this in mind#I mean maybe after this game we’ll get a spin-off happening simultaneously with all the other characters#to be honest I’d love to see that
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using you
RICK GRIMES X fem!reader
nsfw content — scroll if uncomfortable!!
summary: rick takes his anger out on you after lori's death because he's a self projecting loser and wants u really bad
warnings: p in v, no foreplay, rough sex, pussy slapping, age gap, degradation, mean rick, fingering, anal threats LOL, self projecting rick, old lonely rick, sweetish rick at the end ig
btw thank u everyone for sending me ideas for male manipulator rick pt.2 :) I'm definitely gonna take these into thought and write sum
i wrote this in three sittings like a week apart so some parts might not match up...
nsfw content below!!
Rick hadn’t come up from the basement of the prison in almost two days. No one had seen him, leading everyone to question if he was even alive anymore.
The death of Lori had impacted him. The atmosphere was tense, and not many words had been spoken. No one wanted to go down to comfort Rick, not wanting to get snapped at. Angry Rick was something else.
Hershel was the one who recommended you to go down and talk to Rick. At first, you were against it, because why? Carl was his son, Glenn was the first one he met out of everyone, and Daryl was like his brother. There was no reason why you should. You were just one of the younger girls in the group.
“Because he has a soft spot for you, sweetheart.” Hershel says gently, sighing and rubbing his temple. Your brows furrow as you think about his words.
“What? No— Rick hates me,” You scoff.
Every time you had tried to talk to the man he’d order you around and be cold to you, never letting you breathe without getting a stupid scolding. It was walking on eggshells around him.
“No, no.” He chuckles, brushing his hands through his thin white hair. He sits up. “He cares about you in his own little way, okay? You’re the only one here he wouldn’t hurt. Not that he’d hurt anyone else— but…” He groans. “You know what I mean.”
You frown at him, picking at your hair. You reluctantly stand up, tossing your jacket on top of your shirt. “If I don’t come back in an hour, you know what happened.” You grumble dramatically.
He rolls his eyes and waves you off, giving you a little grateful smile.
A few minutes later, you were walking down the staircase into the boiler room, a frown painted onto your expression. You could hear angry muttering and the sound of metal clattering.
Just on your way here you had heard him yelling, you didn’t know at who. It worried you, was he already going crazy? Or was someone else down here with him?
As you walk inside the small, dark room, a messy-looking Rick comes into view. His hair was messy, his curls damp with sweat as he grumbled angrily to himself, leaning against a table.
He quickly turns at the sounds of your footsteps, hands on his hips as he narrows his eyes at your figure. What the hell were you doing here? Did no one get the message that he wanted to be left alone?
“What.” He huffs firmly, his body language cold and distant. He was always mean to you, but this just felt different, like he was a ticking time bomb. It made you shudder as you nervously picked at your hair, stepping closer.
“You’ve been down here for a while, Rick. Everyone’s getting worried.” You said softly, looking up at the older man through your lashes. It felt weird to be so nice and caring to him, he had just lost his wife— you felt bad. Horrible, even.
And a part of you made your guilt ten times stronger knowing you were still attracted to him throughout this whole mess. Even though he had pushed you away so many times, called you names, and ordered you around like a child, you felt connected to him. Like you wanted more than a simple friendship.
But the fact he was mourning his wife's death and all you could think was how good he looked with his shirt half-buttoned and his curls messy? God, you were a horrible person.
A dry chuckle leaves him, the sound echoing in the room, making you shiver. His demeaning attitude towards you has you shrinking, wanting the walls around you to swallow you whole as long as that meant you didn’t have to be alone in a room with him.
“So worried they call you down here out of everyone else?” He scoffs.
Ouch.
“I’m just trying to be here for you, you don’t have to be such a jackass.” You sneered at him.
Once the words left your mouth, you felt kinda bad. He was struggling with his wife’s death, and here you were being rude to him.
A small sigh left you as you stepped forward, hesitantly placing your palm on his bicep, trying to give him a little bit of comfort. It was the least you could do, right? You had managed to screw up your entire friendship with this man, but maybe you could turn it around starting… now?
As he feels your touch on his bicep, he turns to you quickly in response— almost as a reflex— and presses you against the table aggressively. A yelp leaves you as you find yourself being cornered by the large man, looking up at him in shock.
Never mind, jeez.
“You wanna be here for me?” He growled, his hand going to hold your throat, not squeezing but keeping it there as a warning not to cross him.
You give him a shaky nod, not knowing what to say or do that wouldn’t cause his temper to blow. It already blew.. But you knew what he was capable of, and you were scared of getting on his bad side more than you already were.
“Use your words.”
“Yeah, I wanna help you.” You press your lips together nervously, giving him a hesitant nod.
His eyes darken, looking you up and down and weighing the options. He hums lowly, his hands slowly wrapping around your waist, his fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt.
“Huh.” He can’t help but smile at you, but not a sweet one. A mocking grin. You shuddered.
“How about you start off by bending over that desk then? Since you wanna be good for me so badly.” He laughs darkly, flipping you around smoothly and kicking the back of your knee.
You stumble slightly and find yourself bending over the edge of the desk, a huff leaving you as you flinch in surprise. Instinctively, you try and straighten yourself but he keeps one of his hands pressed on your lower back.
“What are you doing? You know this isn’t what I meant—“ You say breathlessly, not having the power to fight back for some odd reason. The position had you tingling between your legs, your stomach in knots and your mouth dry.
You felt ashamed to be so into this. He was coping in an extremely unhealthy manner— but could you even stop him if you tried? Did you want to?
He ignores your words and grasps the back of your jacket, pulling it off and leaving you in your spaghetti-strapped tank top. It was hot in the prison, could you blame yourself for dressing in thinner clothing?
“Always dressed like a fuckin’ slut, begging for attention from me. Think I don’t notice? Hmm? How you’re always nagging me and trying your damnest to spend time with me?” His words leave him harshly as he leans over to push your hair over your shoulder, leaving your back empty for him without any distractions.
“Don’t say that.” You mutter softly, eyes fluttering as you feel his breath brush over your skin. Goosebumps appeared on your smooth skin, lips pressing together to conceal the heavy exhale you wanted to release.
“Why? Because you know I’m right?” He chuckles dryly. His hands rub over your back, grabbing the end of your top and pulling it up to bunch over your chest. Your heart skips a beat and you try to pull away, but he only pulls you closer, pressing his crotch firmly against your butt. He sighs in relief at the friction, grinding subtly.
The next few minutes are him just grinding against you from behind, muttering a mean ‘shut up’ whenever you’d let out a noise. This was for him. He didn’t care about you— didn’t care that he was leaving you needy and aching, all he wanted was to relieve himself.
“Take your pants off.” He grumbles, leaning back just a few inches to unbuckle his belt. He smoothly pulls it out of his jean loops, and then unzips his fly and pulls his jeans down. He’s fast and aggressive, and soon enough his hard cock is pressing against his lower tummy, his tip red and throbbing.
You blink in surprise, but you try and process his words quickly. Okay. He wants your pants off. This was for him to feel better, just take your damn pants off, dumbass. Don’t make his day worse.
Shakily, you pull your pants down to your ankles, your butt in front of him with your panties hugging your curvy hips. He stares down at you, eyes narrowing at the sight of the damp spot on your panties.
“Slut.” He kicks your legs open with his foot before landing a harsh slap against your pussy, making you cry out. Your brows furrow as you try to suppress your noises as he keeps going at it, his rough palm delivers harsh strikes to your sensitive area.
“O-Ow— Rick!” You whine, wiggling your butt as the slaps have you growing more and more wet. This was so embarrassing!
“Had I known you like gettin’ that pussy slapped I would have done it a lot sooner, sweetie.” He coos mockingly, a low snicker leaving his throat. He parts his hand from your panties. His large fingers grasp into your panties and pull them to the side, nudging your legs further apart and aligning himself with you.
“Take a deep breath, baby.” He huffs before thrusting himself inside you with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Your body tenses immediately, eyes watering at the large stretch your insides felt at the intrusion.
You immediately let out a shaky cry, clawing at the table for something to hold onto as you try and adjust to the feeling. His girth was thick, ripping you apart. The lack of foreplay and prep had you wincing.
“Awww, did I hurt ya’? Poor thing, little hole must burn sooo much.” His words sounded so mean, his dark eyes gazing down at your figure. He scanned each inch of your body. Your arch, your hips, waist, your hair— it all looked so good. He wanted to ruin you.
You struggle to speak as you feel him sit nice and snug inside you, your sight going blurry. You whimper like a pathetic puppy into the desk, the cold steel making you cringe and squirm. If he was gonna force himself in your pussy, couldn’t he of at least done it somewhere more comfy?
“S-Screw you,” You groan lowly, your eyes already rolling back. And he hasn’t even started to move yet.
“Mhmm, s’okay sweet girl, I’ll get there.” He hushed you gently. Your doughy flesh is so soft to his rough palms, making him smile as he grips your waist a little tighter. He uses your waist to hold you down as he starts to slowly pull out, leaving just the tip before slamming himself back inside. Not even a rag in your mouth could stop the moan that leaves you, your body wincing in a mix of pain and pleasure.
The next few minutes are messy and full of whimpering and shushing, your body quivering as he keeps thrusting into your hole like there’s no tomorrow. You were just a stress relief for him at the moment— a pretty face with a tight cunt he could fuck for hours.
Yeah, he was mean to you even before he decided to fuck you in this boiler room, but that was only because he didn’t know how to handle his emotions around you! You were a sweet young girl with a cute face and a good rack of tits, always trying to talk to him when he had a wife and a son, could he even interact with you without getting scolded by Lori?
He let out a shaky grunt as he slams his hips into you over and over again, watching your perfect ass jiggle at the force he put into you. Your noises were perfect, he had spent probably hours imagining how you’d sound with him inside you. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had imagined you while he was in bed with Lori. He was a horrible husband, but he blamed you for it. You were the reason of his lack of loyalty, so he may as well punish you for it. You were pretty much asking for it the second you came downstairs with that pretty face.
“Fuck, fuck,” He groans, bending over to press his chest flush against your back and pressing himself against you. He wanted you to feel every damn inch of him, feel how deep he was inside your dumb little pussy and how he made you feel.
“You feel that? Huh? Feel how fuckin’ deep I am inside that needy pussy? Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart, must feel so good, right?” He shushes your cries as he manages to push his cock deeper, his fat head brushing against your sweet spot that has you clenching down.
“Mhm, feels so good.” You sniffle. He giggled lowly at how pathetic you sounded, almost feeling the urge to comfort you for a second.
He’s wanted this for so long. Half the reason why he was spiraling after Lori’s death was because of the agonizing guilt he felt for still fantasizing about you when he had a whole newborn waiting for him. But now he had you, and he was not gonna let you go, and even if you begged and cried— he had already sunk his claws(cock) deep inside you.
His hand reaches to the front of your neck to grasp it and pull you tighter against him, giving your neck a little squeeze. He hums in approval at how your body tightens around him, his hips picking up speed.
“Good, good, jus’ like that, good girl,” He mumbled, squeezing his hand around your neck just a tiny bit more, loving the expression that fell over your face. A few more long minutes of him inflicting a fast and rough pace that expresses his self-projecting hatred towards you pass, the both of you out of breath and sweating.
“Can I cum? Please?” You whisper shakily, a soft moan coming from you as his thrusts continue. Your lips quiver and struggle to choke out words as you feel him repeatedly slam into your g-spot, eyes watering from the pleasure and your legs going wobbly.
“Oh, oh please, Rick—!” A loud moan escapes your throat before you have time to hold it back. You had been stripped down to a cheap whore bent over a table, but you didn’t care, it felt so good.
He answers your question by squeezing your throat, reaching forward to rub your clit. You clenching down on him has him groaning and almost stuttering with his thrusts, brows furrowing as he starts to get a little sloppy with his rhythm.
Without wasting any time, you feel yourself cumming hard around his cock and spasming, crying out at the force. A few more tears slip as you whimper onto the table, shaky hands grasping at anything to hold onto it.
A crooked grin paints his face as he gazes down at your shaky figure, slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of your leaky hole.
He hums and gently picks you up and sits you down on top of the desk, parting your thighs open and pressing the cum back inside you. Your eyes widen slightly in shock as his large finger shoves itself back inside you, making you cry out at the sensitivity you felt.
“R-Rick,” You attempt to plead before he rudely shushes you, crumbling apart as he fingers you open brutally. More tears stream as he watches with an amused glint, taking in the sight of you crying as he shoves his fingers inside your pussy violently.
“You can take it, shush, be a good girl.” He mumbles, sliding them in and out smoothly without any stop, his other hand going to rub at your spent clit. He almost felt bad for you, but then he remembered you were the little brat making him think like an unloyal husband— and he resumed with his torture.
Once he has you coming apart on his fingers again, he slides them out of you and whistles meanly, smirking at his slick-covered fingers. He maintains eye contact with you as he brings them up to your mouth, tapping them against your lips.
“Please don’t.” You whine, trembling in embarrassment. Could this get any more humiliating?!
“Shut up and be a good fuck toy.” He grunts. You shrivel and slowly part your lips, taking his wet fingers and sucking gently, your eyes fluttering shut as you didn’t want to look him in the eye while doing this.
After cleaning his fingers, he parts from you and gives you a once over, scowling.
“You’re not too bad when you’re not being an annoying fuck, y’know. Maybe you should bend over for me more often.” He sniggers, pulling his jeans back up and buckling his belt back on. He tidies up his appearance and gives you a side-eye.
“I’m so telling Hershel.” You grumble, struggling to pull your pants back on with limping legs. He rolls his eyes and aggressively tugs them back on for you. You flinch at the force and almost stumble onto your ass but you eventually have your clothes back on you because of his help. You give him an awkward smile, and he just glares at you in return.
“…I guess you could say I did help you, right?” You grin sheepishly, before gasping softly as he pulls you in for a kiss. He mutters a small “Shut up,” against your lips before interlocking his with yours, his hands wrapping around your waist and pressing your body flush against his.
He parts slowly from you, a small saliva trail showing before dissolving mid-air. He stares down at you, before nudging you in the direction of the exit.
“Don’t tell anyone about this, kay? You tell a soul and I’ll shove it in your butt next time, brat.” He scoffs, turning away and gazing back at the wall like the depressed old man he is.
You can’t help but smile as you walk away.
Next time, huh?
You were a little delusional, but why the hell not?
#Spotify#rick grimes#rick grimes imagine#rick grimes smut#rick grimes x reader#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead#the walking dead smut
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more daryl dixon headcanons (NSFW)
I did not expect for my first nsfw to get that much attention, yall are so sweet, I'm gonna sob
Anyways! To give yall a treat, I'll spoil yall with more nsfw headcanons. Enjoy!
!MINORS DNI!
merle would try to come onto you in the early days at the camp in atlanta, always saying he's gonna get some with you to you're face. But you would tell him "Daryl would have more of a chance to fuck me before you ever do." And daryl would just sit there and smile as he overhears
daryl almost dying several times to get protection because yall ran out
daryl would definetly ask glenn for some condoms, of course glenn would obliged, but he would still look at him like "what the fuck?"
daryl knowing where IT is and finding it immediately <33
he wouldn't say anything, but he'd always love when you'd crush his head with you're thighs, it was a secret thing he's never shared with you
again body worship, daryl would be rough almost every time, but there's definitely cases where he takes it slow because he doesn't believe you're real and you love him
you'd 100% have bruises on your hips, thighs, and ass from daryl digging into them
the aftercare cuddles yall (I'm so delusional)
hershel giving daryl THE TALK
when the group gets to alexandria, deanna sees you planting flowers one day and reminds you to keep you're window closed LMAOOO
daryl would use the scissoring motion when fingering you , yall know what I mean.
shower sex. shower sex.
you both have fucked in the forest more than a dozen times
you'd be insecure about your weight or not being good, but in return daryl would pay extra attention to you're body when fucking you, or reassure you that it doesn't matter to him
hed love whenever you'd sit on his face
daryl would leave you unable to walk on more than one occasion
HIS MOANS GUYS- HELP ME
his moans would either be really low and breathy, or very high
you and daryl making out and him getting annoyed if he was interupted. you'd be in the middle of making out and there would be a situation and he'd go "for christ sake." as he's wiping his mouth and you'd just laugh.
daryl going insane at how wet you are
daryl pressing kisses to your pussy and inner thigh after eating you out
eugene watching yall make out one day after you thought you found a secure spot. daryl would be in the middle of giving you a hickey and stops, it'd be awkward for a second before daryls yells "man get the hell out!" And eugene just nods and runs (IM CRYING AT THIS HEADCANON)
daryl asking if you're okay <33
if yall had kids, you're kid would ask rick and michonne where yall were, especially after needing a night alone, rick would just say "not sure, but you might have a sibling soon." And michonne would slap his chest
#daryl dixon#daryl#twd daryl dixon#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon x reader#daryl fanfiction#daryl imagines#daryl dixon imagine#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon i need you#daryl dixon headcanon
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Healing Touch
ONESHOT
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When Daryl Dixon is injured and stuck in bed, he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of being pampered by the group. But you? You’re more than ready to take care of him—and show him just what it means to be a good boy. Think Daryl Dixon’s all rough and tough? Think again...
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HANDJOB / TEASING / EDGING / ORGASM DENIAL
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.033
ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S2E05—ᴄʜᴜᴘᴀᴄᴀʙʀᴀ & S2E06—ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ
MASTERLIST
You wiped the sweat from your forehead, the Georgia sun burning down on you as you walked over to Maggie and Glenn outside of the house on Hershel's farm.
Every so often, you'd look towards the cars where a few others in the group were working, trying to make the most of the now limited supplies you all had left at the moment.
"I got a lot of corn here," Maggie said, holding up a can. "Maybe we can make some soup tonight. What do you think?"
Glenn laughed, "Soup sounds fine, I think. As long as we don’t have to eat beans again. I think I’m starting to sprout beans myself."
"Hey Maggie," you shouted over to her. "How’s everything going so far? You two need any help?"
Maggie gave you a small, but rather distracted, smile. "It’s been a quiet run, so we’re okay. We just came back a few minutes ago with some new supplies."
You nodded. "That's good. Means we won't starve anytime soon. Hey, listen, I heard Daryl’s still inside the house. Do you know how he is feeling? I really hope he is feeling better. Everything that has happened, I just... I don't know. I still can't wrap my head around it."
"Well, dad took care of him, just like he did with Carl, so I wouldn't worry too much about his condition. And if it would've worsened, dad would've told Rick already, that's for sure. But what has happened to him out there, and then the bullet? I don't know him well enough, but I think that he’s too stubborn to admit he even needed help in the first place. And that ear necklace? I'm sorry, but that was beyond creepy."
You remembered… Daryl has been out there, trying to find Sophia again. Of course, it all had to go sideways. You didn't know the details exactly, but you remembered how he had dragged himself back to the farm, looking like he’d been through hell and back. Covered in dirt and blood, and barely conscious.
Then, just when things couldn’t get any worse, Andrea took a shot at him from the roof of the RV. She’d been told to hold off by Rick, Shane, and Dale, but she fired anyway, hitting Daryl in the head, with the bullet grazing his temple.
"I’ll check on him," you now said, putting the supplies aside again. "You're right, he's too stubborn to admit it, but he needs someone to make sure he’s not pushing himself too hard. And if he could, he'd already be out there again."
As you walked towards the farmhouse, you passed by Rick, who was busy organizing and looking through different maps. He looked up at you, giving you a nod. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding rather exhausted. "Are you going to check on Daryl? Or are you going to help Beth and Lori in the kitchen?"
You nodded. "Yeah. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Daryl's been through hell while trying to find Sophia."
"Good idea. He’s definitely been through a lot, that's true. I mean, we all have. But just… be careful with him. You know how Daryl is."
You laughed, shaking your head. "I know, Rick. That’s why I’m going to make sure he stays put and tied to the bed. Don't worry."
As you walked into the farmhouse, you could hear a voice coming from the kitchen, where Lori was preparing a meal with Beth together for Daryl and the rest of the group.
"Hello," Lori said and looked at you. "Are you going to see Daryl, or do you want to help us? Rick has been annoying me with me apparently needing help, even though Beth is helping me already."
You nodded, giving her a smile back. "Don't worry, Lori. I want to make sure Daryl's alright, you know, after everything that has happened lately."
She gave you a quick and thankful thumbs up before you continued heading to the room in which Daryl was in, but paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath. The thought of Daryl lying there, probably still hurt and so vulnerable, made your heart ache. He’d always been so strong, but seeing him in such a state was hard to imagine. And just as you were about to open the door, you heard a voice coming from the inside of the room.
You stopped, listening for a moment before pushing open the door to find Hershel standing by Daryl’s bedside.
"Evening, Hershel," you said as you entered the room, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach.
Hershel looked up, smiling at the sight of you. "Hey there, good to see you. I could use an extra pair of hands."
You moved closer to the bed, where Daryl lay, and Hershel continued, "Daryl’s been in and out of consciousness yesterday most of the time, but I’m hopeful he’ll recover fast if he gets the rest he needs. And if you could help changing the rest of the bandages right now, that would be great."
You nodded, taking a closer look at Daryl. "Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I know he can be stubborn, but he needs to take it easy eventually."
"That’s the spirit. I’ve done what I can for now. He’ll need the rest."
You were still looking at Daryl as Hershel took a few steps back, who now moved slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes opened just a little bit, and he looked at you with confusion.
"Hey, tough guy," you said. "How are you holding up so far?"
"Just peachy, as always," he answered rather annoyed.
You couldn’t help but smile at his answer. He certainly sounded like the Daryl Dixon that you all knew so far. "Well, I’m here now, so you’d better let me take care of you."
Hershel gave you another nod before finally walking out of the room. "Good, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, like more bandages, don’t hesitate to ask. We still got enough medical supplies left if needed."
"Thanks, Hershel," you replied, watching as he left the room.
You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task ahead.
"What’re ya even doin’ here?" Daryl suddenly mumbled. "'M fine. Don’t need no babysittin’ bullshit. Ain't needin' ya 'round here either."
You gave him a smile, trying to hide how annoyed you already were with his usual behavior. "You’re obviously not fine, Daryl. You’ve been through a lot, and you know it. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like trying to get up and do something you shouldn’t."
He grumbled in frustration, trying to turn away from you. "Yeah… whatever."
You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. "Yeah... Too bad, huh? Because right now, that means letting me help you."
"Ain’t nothin’ you can do that Hershel didn’t already do," he mumbled again.
You set down the small medical kit Hershel had brought with him and pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Hershel did his part, sure, but it’s not just about the wounds. You need to rest and relax, and that’s where I come in. Also, taking off the old bandages and putting on new ones isn't that hard, but I doubt that you can do it yourself. And Hershel just left the room, so it's up to me now to change the rest of them. I don't care if you complain about it or not."
You then began to carefully take off the bandages from his side, where the crossbow bolt had pierced itself through. Daryl winced a little, but he didn’t complain so far, his pride keeping him quiet even though you could see how uncomfortable it was for him.
"You know, for someone who’s always acting so tough, you’re a real damn mess right now," you said, trying to break the ice with a bit of humor. "How’d you end up like that anyway? What even happened out there?"
Daryl smirked a bit to himself. "Ya think I’m gonna tell ya a story now? Hell, jus' get it over with."
You shook your head and laughed quietly, focusing on cleaning the wound first. "Hey, I'm not the one that looks like the wrong side of the bed became sentient and beat the ever-loving shit out of you. So you’re going to have to deal with me being the one to help you. It’s either that or I get someone else who’s less careful."
"Less careful?" Daryl asked, and he winced again as you applied antiseptic to the wound. "Sounds to me like yer enjoyin’ this."
You stopped for a moment and looked at him with a teasing smile. "You know what? Maybe I really am enjoying this. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not going to cause us any more trouble, even though we all appreciate what you did. Especially Carol."
"Ya think I need ya to look after me? I can handle myself jus' fine," he grumbled and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at you anymore.
You soon finished cleaning the wound and then continued with the fresh bandages. "Oh, I’m sure you can, Dixon. But that’s not even the point. The point is, you’re not in any shape to be running around and playing redneck cowboy."
Daryl moved slightly again, trying to get more comfortable. "Ain't in need to be told twice. Thank ya very much."
You stopped wrapping the bandage around him, waiting for him to get into a more comfortable position. "Stop it with the damn sarcasm, Daryl. For someone who’s always trying to play it cool, you’re really not doing a great job of hiding how much this is bothering you. You do realize that looking weak and needing help are two different things, right? You're far from being weak, and you've done much more for this group than you can probably imagine, even if you're doubting yourself and telling yourself that it's all bullshit in the end." You told him and then continued, putting on the final bandage. "But it's not. And right now, you need to let yourself be looked after, and you need to give us the chance to care about you. Even if it's only for once."
There was a moment of silence, and for a second he looked at you only to look away again, clearly struggling with giving you an honest answer about what he thinks.
You took a deep breath. "Alright, I’m done with the bandages. How about a quick check of your other injuries?"
Daryl nodded quickly, but you could see he was starting to relax a bit. "Yeah, fine. Jus'… make it quick, will ya? Ain't got no time for this bullshit."
You smiled and began checking his other wounds. "So, what’s your actual excuse for not telling us what has happened?"
"Ain't worth tellin’. Jus' 'nother day of me bein’ stupid," he grumbled back as an answer.
Soon enough, you finished checking his other wounds and stood up, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re all patched up, try to get some rest. We’re all counting on you to be back on your feet soon; don't forget that."
He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I’ll try to stay outta trouble while bein' tied to this damn bed."
You smiled and began to pack up the antiseptic and unused bandages, putting them back into the small medical kit. "That’s all I ask for. Get some sleep, Daryl. You know you need it. Something to eat will be ready soon."
As you put away the last of the bandages, you noticed how tense Daryl seemed to be. So you decided to take an extra moment to help him relax, thinking how a little extra care couldn’t hurt.
Your fingers soon massaged his side as you sat down once more, careful not to touch the wound. It was meant to ease the tense muscles around it a bit, but as your hands moved over his skin, you felt that he seemed to react differently when he gasped slightly.
"Ya really don’t have to," he started, but he stopped talking as you continued, your touch slow and feeling soothing.
You looked up, now looking into his eyes. "Why not? You’re all tense. And it’s not just about the injuries; your whole body’s been through a lot. A little extra care might help. There's nothing wrong with it."
He grunted, trying to remain tough, but his breathing grew heavier, betraying his growing discomfort, and you noticed how his body responded to your touch—a reaction he was clearly trying to hide.
His cock began to harden under the sheets. The outline of it was becoming more pronounced, and you could see the rise of the sheets with each breath he took.
You tried to ignore the current awkwardness of the situation, but it was impossible not to notice, and even more impossible not to look at it. Your fingers stopped, and you hesitated momentarily before continuing to massage his side, with Daryl’s eyes squeezed shut and another groan escaping his lips.
"Ugh... Daryl?" You asked quietly, your voice full of curiosity as you realized what was happening. "Are you… okay?"
He opened his eyes and turned his head away from you. "Yeah, jus', jus' let it be. Shit, jus' stop!"
But you couldn’t ignore the evident hardening beneath the sheets anymore. As you moved slightly in your seat to get a little bit closer to him, your hand accidentally brushed against his cock, and Daryl’s reaction was immediate—he sucked in a breath, his body tensing even more.
"Ain’t needin’ ya to… to be all handsy now, goddamn it!" Daryl's voice was trembling, his body shaking a bit, and his muscles straining, even as you didn't continue to massage him. But the sudden power you had over him was intoxicating, and you decided to take your chance and act on it.
You reached down and carefully pulled back the sheets covering his lower body. Daryl’s breathing hitched as you exposed him, and his cock was already hard, pushing against his pants. You could see it clearly now, the visible outline of it.
You smirked at him as you pulled the waistband of his pants down, just enough to pull his cock out and free it from his underwear.
As you pulled it out, Daryl's eyes widened as he watched you handle him. There was no need for words; the look on his face said it all. He felt vulnerable.
You gave him a smile, your hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. "You look like you're about to lose it, Dixon."
He glared back at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. "Ain’t fair, ya know…"
You leaned in close to him, your lips touching his ear. "Well, who said life was fair?" Your hand started to move, giving his cock a slow, torturous stroke that had him groaning. "But maybe… if you ask nicely…"
"God… Please," he groaned again, but it was clear he wasn’t used to begging, yet the desperation in his voice was there beyond doubt.
"Good boy," you murmured, and you could see how his eyes slowly closed as he gave in to your touch and words.
You soon picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, his hips bucking into your hand. "Shit, jus' like that," he moaned, his eyes squeezing shut even more tightly.
Fuck… How he wanted it. Your hand working his cock, making him forget about everything that has happened…
You could tell he was close already. His cock twitched in your hand, and the quiet sounds he was making were turning more desperate. "Please," he gasped again. "I… I can’t..."
"Oh? Already, huh?" You teased him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum over it that had gathered there.
You smirked, enjoying the power you had over him. "Do you like this?" You teased him further.
"Yeah, jus' like that…" He panted, his body trembling. "Please... I need ya to touch me more. Can't fuckin' take it..."
"Touch you where, Daryl? Use your words. Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you want."
"My damn dick... please, jus' touch it." You immediately switched your pace back to pump him slowly again, and each stroke of your hand made him shiver, his moans growing a little louder with every touch.
His hips bucked involuntarily, but you kept your rhythm controlled, never speeding up, not letting him get the orgasm he wanted so desperately.
"I thought you were a tough guy. But look at you—so damn needy already. Come on, Daryl," you mumbled. "You’re not done yet. Not until I say so."
He whimpered, trying to thrust into your hand, but you stopped him, keeping him on edge.
"Fuck, please…" He groaned in frustration. "Don’t stop… jus' fuckin' finish me off already!"
You laughed, your grip tightening just enough to torture him a little more. "And why would I do that? You need to learn so much more about patience."
With each stroke, you used different pressure and speed, sometimes going slower just when he thought he was about to finally cum. The feeling was almost unbearable for Daryl, and you could see it in the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again and again, his breathing only coming out in gasps.
"How does it feel, Daryl? Being held on the edge like this?" You asked, looking over at the door to listen if somebody was coming closer.
"Shit, feels so damn good…" He gasped, his voice strained. "I jus' need… I need to… Fuck!"
You smiled, leaning closer to him once more when you were sure that you'd be left alone. "Not yet, tough guy. I want to see just how much you can take."
You continued your teasing, your strokes slow and torturous. "You can take it. I know you can. You want it, don’t you? You want to make me finish you so badly, but you’re going to have to earn it," you whispered.
Daryl could only nod. "Please… Hell, I can't take much more!"
He couldn't take it anymore. The teasing—it was all too much. He wanted to cum. And he needed you to make him cum. Hell, he loved it. Your hand pumping his cock, teasing him, making him groan with need. The way you toyed with him, bringing him so close only to pull back? Shit, he was losing it… And the way your fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking it just right… It was driving him insane.
You simply grinned, feeling excited because of the power you held over him. "But that's good. Because I want you to remember this. Remember how much you wanted it and how much I made you wait."
His eyes were still squeezed shut, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to give in.
With that, you continued to edge him, every touch, every stroke keeping him on the brink, pushing him to the limit of his own control.
And the feeling of sliding your hand back and forth along his thick shaft, the way he groaned and moaned quietly, trying to keep himself quiet just for you—it was everything you wanted...
"Fuck, please," he moaned again, his voice now breaking slightly.
His cock was pulsing in your hand and still leaking pre-cum, and you knew this was the moment he might not be able to hold back any longer. And just when he was about to finally stumble over the edge, you stopped pumping him completely, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.
Daryl’s eyes flew open in shock, anger, and need. "What the fuck?" He growled, his voice hoarse. "Why’d ya stop?"
You leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Because I wanted to see you beg for it, Daryl. And you’re not quite there yet."
He glared at you in need, his cheeks red, and sweat started to form on his body. "Ya can’t jus' leave me like this! Please!"
"Oh, but I can," you answered with a smirk. "And I will. Unless you really beg for it."
Daryl closed his mouth, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitching around as he gritted his teeth, his pride and ego fighting with his desperate need. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow.
"Please, please, let me cum," he whispered and finally started to beg and whimper a little more. "Please! I can't take it anymore. Please…"
God... How much he needed you. Desperately. Your hands, your touch, everything about the way you teased and pumped him, the way you handled him… It was like you knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed, and you were giving it to him for free, if only he would beg for it...
You smiled, satisfied with his response. "That’s better. Now, let’s see how much more you can take."
You went back to your teasing, your hand moving slowly over his cock, feeling him twitch and pulse again with every touch. His moans grew a little louder, even more desperate, as you brought him to the edge again and again, only to stop just before he could finally cum.
By the time you finally decided to give him what he needed, Daryl was nothing more than a trembling and pleading mess, his hips bucking toward you again and again, his eyes now looking desperatly at you.
"Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Daryl," you whispered quietly. "Look at you, trying to keep quiet for me, trying to hold back so hard. Taking it like you should… Don't stop looking at me."
You sped up, your movements rough and fast, giving him no time to adjust to the now quick pace. His body was shaking, and you could feel he was more than ready to snap.
"Yeah, you want to cum so bad, don’t you?" You teased. "Go on, Daryl. Cum for me. Show me how much you need it. How much you want it."
With a choked groan, Daryl's body tensed. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing in your grip as he came all over your hand. You kept pumping him through it, milking every last drop out of him.
"Oh, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" You mumbled. "Let it all out. You did so well for me."
He collapsed back against the bed, completely spent and exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.
You reached for a towel next to the small medical kit, wiping your hand and cleaning up carefully, making sure not to leave any evidence of what had just happened behind, before you looked down at Daryl, a wide smile on your face.
"Fuck," he panted. "That was… fuck..."
"Told you I’d take care of you," you answered him, giving him a wink.
He opened his eyes, looking at you quite exhausted. "Yeah, ya did…"
He didn’t protest as you cleaned him up; he just watched and stared at you with those intense blue eyes, still catching his breath with his mouth slightly open.
"There," you said, as you were finishing everything up. "All cleaned up again."
Daryl didn’t say anything for now, just giving you a small and a little ashamed nod as you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty face.
"Get some rest now, tough guy," you whispered, pulling back and standing up. "You’re gonna need it. Remember: Be a good boy for me."
"Yeah… I... I..." He grunted in response, unable to even finish his thoughts after hearing your words, which were still making his head spin.
You simply smirked, heading towards the door. "Anytime, Daryl. Anytime."
As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied as well. Daryl Dixon might be tough as hell, but in that moment, he was completely and totally yours.
TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema
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Blood Ties Chapter 29
Series Masterlist
Warnings: Slightly graphic depictions of labor and childbirth A/N: Maybe a cliffhanger. Maybe not. You'll have to read to find out! ;) Daryl is definitely ooc in this. I'm sorry, I tried to get as close as I could to how he might react. Also, the saying he uses is one we use in the south that means "how is that relevant?" You'll know it when you read it, lol.
“About 4cm now. Progressing nicely.” Hershel informed, wiping his hands on a cloth that Carol had provided.
Rick and T-Dog were out doing yet another night run in the van. It was also low on fuel but the map showed another town close by. Fuel, gloves, and other necessities were on the list. Glenn was on watch with Daryl for backup if anything happened. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it couldn’t be helped.
Thumper was calling the shots at that point.
Before the men had left, Daryl had confiscated all the blankets except for those that were for Lori and Carl. When Glenn began to complain, one look from the anxiety-driven archer had brought the young man very close to hiding behind Rick. While some blankets were used for your comfort, others were fashioned into a tent-like structure over the bare branches of a decently sized bush. You needed some sense of privacy.
Carol and Lori had dug through the maternity clothes that hadn’t been lost on the road and found a button up dress. It was comfortable and made things much easier than leggings.
After your immediate needs had been met, Daryl then perched himself just beside your shoulder and hadn’t moved since.
“S’the number we’re aimin’ for?” He asked with frustration lacing his tone, making sure the blankets were back over you and tucked tight to keep you warm. He had been muttering to himself how he wished he had made time to read the rest of the books. Daryl was not a man that liked being in the dark on anything. It made him feel helpless, as you had learned over the last several months.
“She needs to be at 10cm and the baby needs to be in the correct position before she can push.” The old man positioned the ear tubes of the stethoscope before pressing it against several spots on your belly. “Heart beat is strong. Everything is looking good.”
You had remained quiet until that moment. “Do I just—I don’t know—lay here?”
“Walking encourages the cervix to dilate and soften. Once you dilate a little further, the contractions will likely be stronger, whether painful or not.” The calmness that man practiced really made you want to strangle him with that stethoscope. “Make sure you don’t go alone, and—”
“She ain’t.” Daryl snapped.
Hershel shot him an admonishing look. “As I was saying, take breaks. Sleep when you can. I’ll check you periodically. You’ll need to keep timing the contractions, son.” Daryl nodded. “Sip small amounts of water, no food. Keep me informed of any changes. And as unpleasant as it may sound, if you feel the pressure and urge as if you may need to have a bowel movement, call for me immediately.”
You, as well as Daryl, reared back, lips curling.
“The fuck that gotta do with the price’a fish?” The archer queried, not so nicely.
“Settle down. The pressure from the baby’s head moving into the birth canal can feel similar to that.” Shaking his head, Hershel shuffled his way out of your tiny tent.
Finally alone, you turned onto your side and scooted your upper body toward Daryl. He stretched out his legs so you could rest on his thigh.
“Get some rest.” His hand wiggled beneath the blanket and rubbed up and down the length of your upper arm, but moved to your belly when another contraction took over. Without prompting, he slid his warm palm around to your lower back and applied the least bit of pressure, rubbing small circles. You buried your face into his thigh to ride it out, but you had to admit the light massaging helped, if only a little.
“You’re supposed to be—” You were panting when you rolled your head to remind him, but found the watch already lifted to eye level, his gaze shifting from it to your stomach.
“Sleep if ya can. I got this.” His brow was furrowed in concentration, your heart swelling and warm. Any worry you had entertained of him running when things got real, just gone in an instant. He was there. He was there.
“I’ll try.” You whispered, the pain finally an afterthought. You felt him slide his hand back to the side of your stomach before you let yourself succumb to exhaustion.
“Sorry, Sunshine. Doc says up, so up ya get.”
You let Daryl take your dead weight and pull you up by a grip beneath your arms, making it as difficult as possible so you might get to stay in your warm little nest. You were still at 4cm. Hershel had said you had to start walking to help labor progress.
“This isn’t fair.” You whined, rubbing your back once you were upright. The pain that accompanied each contraction had lessened but was still ever present. “Can’t you walk and I dilate?”
Daryl snorted. “Don’t think that’s how it works.” He placed a careful hand on the small of your back and kept your pace, slow as it was.
“Okay, then how about if it gets worse, I kick you in the balls and punch you in the kidneys so you can participate properly?” You were only half joking.
“If it gets ya through this, I guess.” The archer shrugged. You regarded him with a skeptical brow arched.
“You’d really let me do that?”
“Hell nah, but s’the thought that counts or some shit like that, right?” He didn’t even try to dodge the smack you aimed at his shoulder.
“You’re hilarious.” You deadpanned, even as you leaned into him while you strolled in circles around the perimeter. The moonlight caught the watch in his right hand, his finger tapping against the casing. Bless him, he was taking his role of supportive partner very seriously. You gasped when the next contraction came, stopping to bend slightly and breathe through it while Daryl secured an arm around you and flipped open the watch.
When it was clear you weren’t falling, he slid his hand to the middle of your back and massaged the length of your spine using gentle pressure from the heel of his palm. He never said much—if anything—during the episodes themselves, but kept you informed of the timing of each one.
“Oh, goddamnit, this one sucks.” You managed through clenched teeth. You swayed slightly when it was over, grasping blindly for the man next to you.
“Thirteen minutes since the last’un. A minute, twelve.” He was slow and careful when turning you back toward camp. “Let’s getcha back to Hershel.”
You shook your head. “One last loop, then we can go back.” Daryl didn’t say anything but you felt him tense. “I’m sure. They’re just getting a little more painful in the stomach, less in the back.”
He still hesitated. “Alright. One more.”
Hershel stepped into your path before you started the second loop, allowing Daryl to fill him in on the last contraction.
“Do one more. Rest. And then again.” The old man ordered curtly.
Once he had vanished back toward the small fire, you mocked his words. “Rest and then again.” Daryl shook his head beside you. “I mean seriously, how much help can walking actually be?”
“Fuuuuuck!” You were digging your fingers into the blankets below you, swatting away Carol’s hand when she tried to dab your face with a piece of cloth. Daryl was sitting beside you, wide-eyed and lost, the watch forgotten by his leg. Hershel was between your knees, sporting his medical gloves that had been brought back by Rick and T-Dog.
The archer cleared his throat. “She alright?”
“Do I look alright, Daryl?!” You hissed, making an admirable attempt at breathing the way Carol was instructing. The contraction finally ended and you fell back onto the folded blankets. “I’m sorry.” You found his worried blue eyes easily and fumbled for his hand.
“S’okay.” He whispered, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.
“She’s at 6cm. We can still time the contractions but I think she may need your attention more than that watch does now.” Hershel reached for the item and placed it in his pocket once Daryl handed it over. “Keep moving but stay closer, no more perimeter walks.”
Daryl nodded, you whimpered.
“I’ll be back soon to check again. If we’re lucky, things will move a little faster now that you’re in active labor.” Hershel left the tent while Carol fixed your dress.
“I know it hurts, but you two will have little Thumper in your arms in just a matter of hours.” She smoothed your hair and tucked it behind your ears. “You’re doing great.”
“I don’t feel like I’m doing great.” You murmured, ducking your head almost bashfully. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you, Daryl. It just—well, it hurts and it’s hard to think.”
“Ain’t mad.” He tried for a half smile but it was weak. “Better than gettin’ kicked in the balls, I reckon.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. “Guess we oughtta getcha up again.”
“I’ll help.” Carol offered. You could see that a refusal was on the tip of Daryl’s tongue but he never voiced it. With Carol under one arm and Daryl under the other, you were pulled upright.
Your body already felt wrung out and sore, and the epic finale hadn’t even begun. Still, you allowed Carol to pass you off to Daryl.
“We movin’ on? Be better to find a house or somethin’.” He looped an arm around your back, following as you shuffled your way around.
Carol shrugged, not touching you but keeping up with your small strides. “Both vehicles have fuel but Hershel isn’t sure we should move her. He thinks the baby will come soon and she needs to be kept in one place.”
You groaned, letting your head fall back in frustration. “She is right here. And if my opinion matters, I’d rather not—” The contraction came on strong, halting you suddenly with your hand fisting into the lower part of Daryl’s vest. The archer stepped around in front of you, rough but gentle hands grasping your wrists to guide your arms to his shoulders.
“Try to breathe. Sometimes humming or even moaning helps, like an outlet.” Carol advised while rubbing your back.
Your head fell forward against Daryl’s chest, a deep but quiet moan muffled against the firm muscle beyond his shirt. His hands had fallen to your hips, his body followed you as you swayed back and forth. The episodes were growing more intense, coming closer together and lasting longer. It wasn’t difficult to surmise that things would be growing more difficult to handle.
“Ain’t nothin’ we can do for ‘er?” Daryl asked quietly above you, each word blowing his warm breath over the top of your head. Carol must have answered in the negative because his fingers flexed against your hips.
The skin of your belly was pulled so tightly that you swore it would tear open, the muscles feeling as if they would pulse right out of the gaping hole your torn flesh would leave.
“Shit.” You whimpered, your voice finding its way back during the last dregs of pain. You almost didn’t register warm hands gliding up and down your sides, a smaller hand on your back. “I don’t want to have the baby here.” You argued weakly. “It’s too open. Things will be too chaotic, too loud.”
“I know, Sunshine, but the doc says—”
“I don’t want to risk Thumper here in the open, Daryl. With—with walkers or people.” With enough strength having returned after the pain, you lifted your head, eyes pleading. “Please.”
The archer was visibly upset. He was just as vulnerable as you were at that moment, torn between what he felt was right and what Hershel said was for the best. His tongue wet his bottom lip before he pulled it in between his teeth, looking to Carol for guidance.
“Could lay down the seats in the van. Use the back.” He suggested. “Plenty’a room an’ if we need to move fast—”
“I don’t think that’s unreasonable.” Carol agreed, rubbing your back in a few soft strokes before beginning to move away. “I’ll go talk to Hershel. You two keep walking.”
You watched her go, turning your gaze up to Daryl when he shifted back to your side to urge you along. “Gotta keep movin’.” You groaned, dragging your feet with your head falling back in frustration.
You were in the middle of a contraction, when you heard it. A snarl, a raspy growl much too close. You were already clinging to Daryl and breathing through the pain that was readying your body for Thumper’s arrival, but you’d have to let him go. He had to protect the baby. And to do that, he had to protect you.
But he didn’t move. He was nearly vibrating, rigid beneath your hands on his shoulders. He was just as scared as you were, even more so. He knew he could take the walker but that would mean letting you go. He needed to protect you but he wanted to support you. He had told you he'd never let you fall and you knew he had meant it.
“Go.” Your hands slid from his shoulders, down his chest before they released him completely to clutch your belly.
His boots disappeared from your view of the ground but you couldn’t focus after that. The pain was growing in intensity, immobilizing you with your lips tightly pressed to withhold the cries that vibrated behind your teeth for release. You couldn’t, you just couldn’t make a sound. You’d attract more, endanger everyone. You’d endanger Thumper. Daryl.
There were scuffles. More snarls. Tears were threatening your waterline. Pain was coursing through you like a serpent, slithering around each muscle and tendon and pulling them tight. You felt disappointment and guilt over all the agony when your mouth fell open with a guttural moan, your will to cut off the scream that begged to follow barely holding true.
“D—Daryl.” You cried out. And he was there, hands on your face, your biceps, your belly.
“M’here. M’here. Gotta move, though.” He swept you up with the slightest strained noise. “Gonna getcha to the van. Gonna find somewhere safe for ya.” The pain was fading. You could focus on the dark blood on his face, the dirt and grime.
“Herd?” You whispered.
“Ain’t your fault.” His expression emanated fear and stress. “The hatch.” Someone was with him. The small hands that opened the back of the van and spread out the blankets, those were Carol’s. She sat a pile of smaller blankets and squares of fabric toward the indents on the floor where the seats had been stowed.
“Get as many in the truck as you can! In the cab and the bed!” Rick was calling out at the same time that Hershel climbed into the van. Daryl was careful when he placed you inside, climbing over you before pulling you further in to make room for Hershel and Carol.
Through your haze of exhaustion, you saw Rick climb in the driver's seat and Maggie beside him. That meant that five others had to somehow fit into the truck.
“Is everyone okay?” You asked, eyes pleading with Daryl for an honest answer.
“Yeah, they’re all good.” He nodded, smoothing a hand over your hair.
The van was moving, though you didn’t realize when it had started. Hershel was between your knees when another contraction came. It felt like only moments had passed since the last one. In the safety of the van, though you couldn’t be bothered to consider that, you bowed forward with a scream. Daryl gingerly worked your fingers loose from the blanket to take your hand.
“She’s at 9cm. This baby is coming soon.” Hershel didn’t move this time, he and Carol began sorting things that you couldn’t see. Panting, you leaned to the side, knowing Daryl would be there. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed.
“What—” He swallowed audibly. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“Just be with her.” Carol poured some water from a bottle onto a piece of fabric and passed it across you for Daryl to take. “Wipe her face, put it behind her neck.”
The archer’s hand was trembling fiercely when you felt the blessed cool cloth touch your forehead. The moan that left you was not one of pain but utter relief. “Oh, that’s nice.” You breathed. Your skin was on fire, every cell of your being felt twisted and wrong. But that trembling cloth wiping at your face grounded you, centered you around what your body was preparing to do.
You were so close to being a mother.
But that didn’t stop the scream that ripped from your throat when the next contraction tore through you. You sat up, propped on your elbows with your eyes screwed shut. Tears leaked from the corners, the wailing cutting off into wretched sobs when you felt Daryl’s forehead fall against the crown of your head, his mantra of m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry shattering you into a million shards.
You couldn’t tell him it was okay. You couldn’t remind him why you hurt. You couldn’t reassure him that he was the one you wanted and you were more than happy to do this with him. For him. You didn’t have the breath.
“Don’t push, Y/N. Not yet.” Hershel’s tone was even but not cruel, his gloved hands on your knees.
“It fucking burns!” You shrieked, squeezing Daryl’s hand until you were certain you felt the bones shift. The contraction let up, the fiery sensation dulling but ever present.
“What’s happenin’?” Daryl sounded breathless. Terrified. You were still catching your breath when you looked up at him. His tan skin was white as a sheet, no color in his lips. His blue eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. From tears or fear, you couldn’t be sure.
“The baby’s in the right position. Y/N, it’ll be time to push soon. It’ll be very important for you to listen to everything I say. Can you do that?” Hershel wasn’t looking at you, between moving around things Carol was handing to him and keeping a constant eye on your progress. Distantly, you wondered why it was Carol at his side and not Maggie. Maybe because you were close with Carol? For your comfort?
“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” You turned your attention back to Daryl when his grip on your hand loosened slightly. He swayed, the pallor of his skin growing more concerning. “Daryl?”
The archer shook his head almost violently. “M’good.”
“Okay, I just—oh, fuck, already!?” You grit your teeth as your stomach tightened, a visible shift beneath the fabric of your dress.
“Maggie, can you climb back here?” Hershel requested calmly. His eldest said nothing but maneuvered her way into the back and on your opposite side. “I fear we may lose Daryl at any moment and Y/N will need support.”
“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Daryl snapped but it was a weak effort. He inhaled deeply and began squeezing your hand to keep you from dislocating his fingers.
“Here.” Carol passed him an opened bottle of water. “Drink a few sips. You’re white as a ghost.”
You were barely aware of everything happening around you, shaking almost violently to refrain from bearing down until Hershel told you to do so. It was bordering on excruciating.
“Jesus Christ, it feels like you’re holding a flamethrower to my fucking pussy!”
Hershel sighed while Maggie and Carol chuckled and Daryl snorted out a quiet nice, Y/N.
“It’s just the birth canal stretching to make room for the baby.” The veterinarian explained coolly.
“Just?” You mocked. “Just, he says while it’s my—oh Jesus fuck!” With all the presence of mind you could summon, you managed not to start screaming at Daryl for putting you in that position. You knew that beyond the pain and fear, you wanted Thumper in your arms more than anything in that fucked up world.
“Okay, Y/N,” Hershel patted your bare knees just at the tail end of the contraction to ensure he had your attention. You had fallen back against Maggie while Daryl held the cool cloth against the back of your neck. His hand was vibrating your skull to the point that you nearly asked him to move away. “You’re ready. On the next contraction, you need to push.”
“God, your calm voice makes me want to kick you in the teeth.” You didn’t mean it—mostly. Hershel must have known that because he chuckled. You could feel the next contraction already building when the van lurched to a stop, throwing everyone in it.
“We got a herd in front of us!” Rick called from the front.
“Go ‘round it! Turn ‘round! Just keep ‘em off us!” Daryl yelled as the pain peaked. “Fuck!” He bellowed when your hand began to shake with how hard you squeezed his own.
“Push!” Hershel shouted over the bumps and jerks of the van doing whatever Rick had deemed best. “Good, good!” He began to countdown from ten while you screamed.
You were being torn open. Thumper was going to rip you in half on their way out. Your throat was raw, surely bleeding from your wails. When the old man reached one, you fell back against Maggie but Daryl’s hand was there too.
“Maggie, Daryl, hold behind her knees. Help support her legs. It’ll keep her hips open.” Both moved forward, taking you with them to sit you up a little straighter. Daryl had to release your hand to hold you and your leg. The archer hissed with the pressure against his abused palm. “Perfect. Alright, Y/N. A nice, strong push this time.”
You almost snarled. “Last one wasn’t good enough?”
“Easy, Sunshine.” You felt Daryl's lips against your temple and yearned to keep them there.
“I’m sorry, Hershel.” Once again, the man simply smiled. Lori had told you that childbirth in the movies was often dramatized but so far, you weren’t seeing the truth in that statement. When the contraction reached a crescendo, you leaned forward while Maggie and Daryl held your legs steady. The pain was extraordinary. You almost wished you could see what was happening, but any train of thought was derailed with Hershel’s next words.
“The baby is crowning!”
Gasping, you swallowed hard, glancing at Daryl—who had a front row seat to what was happening—and then back to Hershel. “Crowning?”
“The head will be out soon.”
“All this and we don’t even have the head out?!” You screeched, just as your stomach rippled into a rigid mound and you were pushing again. This pain was different. Thumper was definitely ripping you apart. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! It burns!”
“S’that—” Daryl cleared his throat and swallowed, swaying on the spot. “S’that normal?”
“Perfectly normal.” Hershel glanced up at the archer, back down, and then up again. “Carol.” He needn’t say anything else. The other woman was moving to grab the back of your leg and let Daryl fall against her so he didn’t smack his head on the side of the van.
You were completely unaware, your entire focus centered on the inferno between your legs. There was no way any woman would willingly do this unmedicated. Never in your life had you wanted drugs more than you did in that moment. Thumper. Thumper, Thumper. You chanted internally, even as your vocal chords vibrated harshly with your screams. And just as you thought you would lose consciousness from the pain, it lessened. It hadn’t disappeared but comparatively, you would take that over the prior.
“The head is out!”
Panting, you smiled but then fell into confusion when you saw Carol beside your leg and Daryl slumped against her. “Daryl? Daryl?!” You shifted but Maggie held you still. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.” Hershel chuckled.
“Who knew a man that could gut a walker without batting an eye couldn’t watch his baby’s head come out?” Carol smiled but began to act, jerking her shoulder to jar the archer. “Daryl. Daryl, wake up. You don’t want to miss this.” He stirred and started to lean back. “Think you can take a look without losing it again?”
“Shuddup.” He shook his head hard, grunting. His hand was the first thing to move, sliding beneath Carol’s to take hold of your leg. Then he was looking at you. “M’sorry. That was—fuck, m’a pussy.” Maggie was moving your hand and pulling you forward as you watched your partner.
Then your fingers were touching a soft, albeit slimy, head.
You gasped. “Daryl.”
The man gulped, but then sat up on his knees a little. You watched the fear and apprehension melt away into awe, his jaw loosening, eyebrows rising, and eyes beginning to shine. “S’that—”
“That’s Thumper.” You were able to say before Hershel announced your miniscule break was over. He didn’t need to say a word, your body was already letting you know. Daryl’s hold felt stronger now and he was watching with an awestruck intensity that just made your heart want to explode even as you rode out the waves of agony. You were going to be a little family.
Then, out of the blue, you could feel something was different, wrong.
“Her—Hershel—Ow, fuck—” You fingers clawed at Daryl’s chest, his wet eyes going wide with concern. The contraction ended and you were gasping and swallowing convulsively, feeling nauseous regardless of your lack of food. Daryl’s eyes were darting back and forth between you and the old man. “Daryl, something—something’s wrong.” You could tell the baby had not moved an inch during the pushing, but not only that, it felt like they had actually pulled back toward your opening.
“I know.” Hershel’s voice had lost the calm and was taking on an emergent edge. “The baby is stuck.”
Panic flashed over Daryl’s face in the form of anger. “The fuck ya mean stuck?!”
Still trying to catch your breath, sweat dripping into your eyes, you thought for certain Daryl was going to jump across your leg and attack the old man. Thankfully, he remained at your side. Trembling and breath stuttering, but he wasn’t moving.
“Shoulder dystocia. The baby is turned in such a way that the shoulders can’t fit through the pelvis. Carol, I will need your help, please.” You were already on the edge of the next contraction when Hershel nearly barked “Y/N, don’t push.”
“What the fuck’re ya doin’?” Daryl snapped, leaning over your leg to investigate. So many emotions were battling for dominance in his expression that you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling.
“Daryl, please.” You pleaded, trying your hardest not to sob. For once, you cared nothing about being self-reliant or what the group thought of you and how much you needed Daryl. As you fought through the pain and against your body’s natural insistence to push, you just cried. Daryl kept a hand below your knee, too afraid to move unless Hershel gave the okay, but he leaned as far as he could to hold you without influencing your position.
“S’okay, Sunshine. S’gonna be okay.”
“Y/N, listen to me. I can feel the shoulder.” Now, the veterinarian’s tone was just downright frightening. “Maggie and Daryl are going to pull your legs back on the next contraction. I’m going to apply some pressure above your pubic bone. It’s not going to be pleasant, but if I’m correct, the head should come and then the baby. I need you to push with all you have, do you understand?”
You pressed your cheek further into Daryl’s chest and nodded, hiccuping through ragged, exhausted breaths. When the contraction began to tear through you, Maggie and Daryl reacted immediately, pulling your legs toward your belly while you curled inward with a guttural scream. Hershel pressed into the area just above your pubic bone, the pressure only compounding the whirlwind of pain you were already caught in. And then it was over and you let the two supporters take your weight.
The van rocked again, but was ignored. Hershel looked at Carol gravely and shook his head.
“S’that ‘bout?” Daryl hissed, trying hard for your sake not to lose his cool.
“It didn’t work.” Before Daryl could speak, the old man continued. “We’re going to try one more time. If it doesn’t work, there are a couple of other things we can try but time is of the essence. The baby isn’t getting the oxygen they need like this.”
“Whatever ya gotta do. Just take care’a both’a ‘em.”
Hershel nodded. “Alright, same thing, Y/N. A big, big push for me.”
You shook your head, exhausted. “I can’t.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy as hope attempted to flee and you accepted that once again, the world would take from you. It would take from Daryl. “I’m so tired.” You felt movement beneath your left leg and then Daryl’s hand was grasping your chin, firm but gentle.
“Hey. Cut that shit out.” He wasn’t angry. He was using the same tone you’d heard him use when he had told Thumper to cut you some slack. When he had started communicating with the baby. “Ya’ve gone through hell an’ back for this an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya quit at the goddamn finish line, ya hear me?”
“I’m tired, Daryl.” Your face screwed up in pain as the next contraction began to build.
“Nu uh. Ya ain’t gonna bust into my life an’ fuck up my world six ways from Sunday, make me love ya an’ this kid, an’ then just give up. S’you an’ me an’ Thumper. S’what ya said!”
You blinked at him, slowly starting to sit up.
“I’ve seen ya be a badass before, Sunshine.” Your breaths were coming faster, the contraction nearly on top of you, but you only had eyes for Daryl. “Be a fuckin’ badass now.” His hand left your face and went back to your leg, pulling it toward you at the same time Maggie moved the right one.
You screamed so loud that you were certain the rocks and bumps of the van were due to your wails alone. Something shifted, you felt it and it hurt. You were on fire and aching at the same time. When the contraction ended, you still felt painfully stretched and bruised and uncomfortable. “Did—did it work?” You panted, grasping desperately for Daryl’s shirt.
“The head is out, the shoulders are turned. One more big push, Y/N. Just one more.”
You breathed harshly through your nose, trying to amp yourself up. Maggie and Carol were throwing encouragement your way, but you didn’t hear them. You only felt Dary’s breath against your ear, his stubbled cheek rubbing against your skin.
He whispered, only for you to hear. “I love ya.” Kissing your temple, he moved back to his spot and when you looked at him, exhausted and crying, the corner of his mouth twitched and he nodded.
You could do this.
When the next contraction ripped through you, the world went silent. It was only you and the pain, white hot and all consuming. You were indeed being torn in half but if it meant Thumper would take that first breath, would open those little eyes to see the world—fucked up or not—then you would gladly be wrenched into pieces.
The moment the baby slipped free of you, you felt the emptiness. You still hurt, but the worst of the pain was suddenly absent. Sound and sight came back to you in an onslaught that had you sucking in a breath like your lungs had been starved.
“Is—Hershel, the baby?” You asked, trying to move as Daryl and Maggie lowered your legs. The archer was leaning across your knee. You couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, but his eyes were wide and darting.
“Doc—”
The ferocious first cries of the distraught newborn echoed throughout the van. Maggie had moved behind you to keep you sitting up while Daryl had staggered backward and fallen on his ass against the interior wall, eyes on the little thing that Hershel was looking over intently. Maggie reached over your shoulder and began unbuttoning your dress, whispering in your ear as she moved.
“The baby needs to nurse, bond with you on your skin and it’ll help when you have to push out the placenta, okay?” You blinked at her, concerned. “It’s okay. It’s nothing like what you just went through. One or two small pushes and it’s out.”’ You nodded robotically, watching Hershel maneuver some sort of tape around a slimy cord.
Thumper was not happy. They were probably cold and that thought made your heart ache. Your baby should never be uncomfortable. Daryl was slowly, clumsily making his way toward you, but wasn’t taking his eyes off the baby. When he was sitting beside you, Hershel finally leaned over you and placed the squirming, slippery baby on your chest.
“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”
#murda writes#blood ties#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#pregnant!reader#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl angst#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon twd
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Ok! Could I please get (fic or shorter) Daryl and Male reader where his boyfriend teaches him how to do bj? Basically instructing Daryl what to do, all soft and kind and sickly sweet.
Thank you~.
your gentle touch.
top male reader x daryl dixon.
summary: a nice surprise turns into a learning experience for daryl.
era: prison.
note: literally before u requested this i was writing something like this so its perfect
after taking in all of the governors people, the tombs and other cell blocks were quick to be cleared of walkers with the extra hands. you figured that with all the space, a room or two could be put to good use.
it took about three months to get it cleaned up and add some decorations- all whilst keeping it a secret from daryl. you had wanted to give the room to him as a surprise. with all the new additions to the group, you knew he was inclined to keep to himself and wasnt as comfortable showing affection to you like he is with rick and the others. the room wasnt just for him, but for the both of you.
hes got a tight grip on your hand, following you deeper into the darkness.
"cant ya just tell me what it is?" he huffs, at a complete loss as to why youve pulled him aside- not that he was doing anything.
"daryl, thats what a surprise is. i promise its a good one."
with him trailing after you, you miss the way he smiles softly, eyes tracing your broader figure. yeah, he'd follow you anywhere, good surprise or not.
he lingers in the doorway, eyes darting all over the room. a mattress in the corner, a mirror on the other end- how did you get these down there without him seeing? and a stack of books and markers.
he glances at you. "when the hell'd you do all this?"
you flop back onto the bed, gesturing him forward. he closes the door behind him and gets comfortable in your strong arms. its one of the things he was crazy about- how they flexed as you helped hershel plant some seeds, how they were almost the same size as his fucking head. it was insanely attractive to him.
"when you werent looking? it took a few months, actually. bringing back a mirror on a run and convincing everyone else not to tell you is easier than it sounds." you chuckle softly, fingers running through his thick hair.
he tilts his head to look at you, the effects of the four walls working almost instantly. he leans in for a kiss, his little beard tickling your chin. its not like you havent kissed before. in fact, you stole one from him any chance you could get. but here: with zero chance of someone walking in on you, you were warranted a make out session.
his lips were always a bit chapped but quick to warm up under your touch. they parted just slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside. his firm hands come to rest atop your chest, body fitting against yours perfectly.
with blood rushing both to your heart and cock, you pull away to sit up a little. "guess this is perfect, huh? all this room with no one else to hear us..."
daryls eyes seem to widen a bit, a blush coming to his cheeks. he swallows thickly before nodding, his fingers dancing across your skin. every time he touched you, it sent sparks through you- time and time again.
"wanted to ask you somethin'," he rasps out, hair falling into his face. your hand comes up to brush the strands away from his face, showing you millions of expressions hidden away just for you. "i want you to teach me how to do something."
"uh, teach you what?" you reply, forcing your attention away from his open lips, still wet from where youve kissed them.
he ducks his head, and you immediately recognize that trait. hes shy.
"what?" youre laughing softly, trying to match his gaze. "what is it? yknow ill do it, whatever you want. ill teach you."
"i mean," he groans, rubbing at his eyebrow in frustration, "shit, how am i 'sposed to just say it? i wanna... y'know, be able to go down on you. ive never done that before."
you nod, amused by his words. it was so easy to forget how much of a virgin he was next to you; hes never been with a man before. what else could you expect? "alright, ill teach you. you wanna be on your knees?"
he blinks once, then twice, and then a third time. "man, i dunno. i guess.." his voice is quieter now, softer.
"youve gotta speak up around me," you reaffirmed, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. "wanna hear what youve got to say."
daryl sighs, always overwhelmed by the gentleness you had for him. "yeah. wanna be on the floor."
hes malleable in your hands, sinking to his knees before you and getting comfortable. just seeing him like this made your cock twitch.
you reached out, a thumb slipping inside his open mouth. and he lets you: his mouth opening wider and wider.
"take my pants off." you instructed, breathless.
he pulls off of your thumb, firm hands at your belt, and then tugging at your boxers. daryl swallows thickly, familiarizing himself with the shape of you so close.
your hand snakes around the base of your dick, guiding it to daryls lips. "open. wider. mhm, like that. now rest your tongue on the bottom of your mouth."
you consider how easy it would be to shove your cock inside that mouth, how he'd take it anyways. a feverish heat blossoms inside your chest, and you want to fill every inch of him.
"go on, take it slowly." you hum out instead, watching your cock slowly disappear into his warm mouth. his eyes fluttered shut in concentration, barely getting the tip down his throat before hes choking.
"alright, hold on," your hand comes up to brush the hair away from his face, letting you see his face more clearly. he was flushed all the way down to his neck, fists balled to the side like he was restraining himself. "youre too stiff. just relax your jaw, and take your time."
daryl nods, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. his mouth falls open again, and he returns with more passion. instead of simply trying to take swallow your cock all at once, hes sucking gently at the head- tongue swirling around you. you have to put all your effort into not bucking into that heat, into suppressing your shudder. daryl notices, his hand guiding your own to his shoulder.
you want to kiss him them, ravage him, tuck yourself into him and hear him cry for you.
"youre doing good, sweetheart," is all you can manage, your touch traveling up his neck to feel his pulse there. the trust he had for you was obvious, and nothing turned you on more than that, "making me feel so good."
your words spur him on, his throat relaxing around you as he breathed in deep before moving down, and down- nose shoved into the dark hair at the base.
you cant hold back now, a firm grip on the back of his head as he struggled to adjust to your size. through a lust filled gaze, you catch sight of his gaze staring right back at you, pupils blown wide and mouth stuffed.
maybe thats what sends you over the edge. or maybe it was his hands gripping onto your thighs, or his own erection pressed against your leg.
here daryl dixon was: cold and rough and strong, learning how to blow a guy for the first time.
"im gonna- gonna cum. cmon." youre gently pushing at his shoulder, trying to get him off.
he pulls away with a loud pop, lips plump and red. "just cum in my mouth." his voice is wrecked, throat sore. but you couldnt deny him.
his mouth is left ajar, tongue resting against his bottom mouth as he watched you jerk off in front of him.
"didnt think youd get this desperate," you mused, just teetering over your release, "this pathetic for a taste of my cock."
and hes whining, something low and soft that you could barely pick up. "but you know im just as fucking pathetic for you too, huh? thats why 'm gonna cum on your face, and then suck you off till youre crying. you want that, angel?"
hes nodding, one eye shut as he inches closer and closer to your twitching cock, a hand closing around the tip as hes teasing your orgasm out of you.
your back arches, breathes falling out of you in ragged patterns, a hand still clenched in daryls hair as you held him in place before jetting your release onto his mouth.
hes licking at his mouth, then at your cock again, cleaning up. a thumb pushes into his mouth again, exploring the wet heat thats been so eager this whole time. you push against his tongue, affectionate and proud, letting him swirl around it like he previously did.
"youre a quick learner," you mumble, tugging him back onto the bed, "but ive still got some tricks to show you."
he swallows thickly, reaching for a kiss. "m'kay. go ahead, mister."
so lets ignore how fast u came i feel like im so bad at writing smut!!
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x male reader#darylxmalereader#kissesfordaryl#the walking dead#daryl dixon imagines#twd daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon drabbles#bottom daryl dixon#top male reader#dom male reader
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Secrets kept for another’s safety, until you lose it
Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Some Saviors just can’t let go and go for what’s important to Daryl Dixon. But little did he know about more than losing his partner. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Injuries / Anxiety Attacks / Blood loss
Requested by: Anon
Just because the Saviors War is over, doesn’t mean it’s completely dealt with. People have their vendettas and everyone will forever be scarred by the actions of Negan, apart of the Saviors or not.
When Negan was taken to prison instead of hell, the group decided that it would be best to have shifts of their people to watch The Sanctuary until they’ve fixed everything. Or until they put someone in there for a more permanent position.
After a month in and it was Daryl and Y/N’s turn to watch the place. Both having their own imprisonment to the place because of Negan. So they weren’t all too happy to be back. But the night gave them time to themselves.
Which led them on the roof this night…
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Daryl asks, putting the joint back to his lips watching Y/N finish putting up the last of their clothes on the clothesline. “You haven’t talked in a bit”
“Am I really that talkative?” She laughs softly, tossing the extra pins in the empty laundry basket. “I’m just enjoying the night with my husband. What else more could I ask for?”
“Could go dark on yea and say for Negan to be dead”
“Well you’re not the only one wanting that” Y/N sat on the stool while Daryl laid on a mattress they had brought up there. Neither of them want to live inside the walls anymore. “Can we just think toward the future?”
“We can” Daryl pushed himself to sit up, offering the joint to her as she shook her head. He stared a bit confused before shrugging it off. “Again, sunshine…what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”
Y/N fell silent once more before looking out toward the woods trying to find a good start to what she wants to talk about.
“You remember when you first held Judith?”
“Lil’ Ass kicker, yeah?”
“Do you remember what you told me afterward? When you handed her off to Hershel?”
The confused look on his face gave her answer.
“You said I don’t think I’d be cut out for this if I were Rick.”
“Why are yea bringing that up now? Are you—-“
“No!…No…” Y/N visibly slumped. “It’s just. The threat is gone. We have a home that is ours. Walls to protect us from the dead…we could. Do it. Have a child. Have that future…”
Give Daryl some credit when he has thought about this before. Having a child with his wife…all of their love put into a single human being. But all the anxieties that came with that thought flooded his mind.
“I don’t wanna lose you like Rick lost Lori” For something that happened years ago, it still haunted him. Especially with the scares they’ve had before a true moment of peace came.
“Daryl…that…that was going to happen to Lori regardless…she had a c-section with Carl, any baby after that was bound to come out the same way. This would be a first for me. We could prevent the possibility of needing a c-section”
“But there’s still a chance. I…” Daryl stopped himself to avoid her eyes and hang his head not ever wanting to think about that possibility. But then again…what was he going to do? “I just can’t” he whispers which led Y/N to bring herself to his level and coax his gaze back onto her. “I can’t lose you…I…I’ve lost enough and everything about how I’d be a terrible father aside I won’t be able to raise our child alone if I lost you…I will always need you”
As much as it broke Y/N’s heart to know his feelings and to have to push aside hers because the last thing she would want is to lose or hurt her husband…the tears fell from her eyes as she presses her forehead against his.
“Okay. Okay…You won’t lose me. Ever. I’m here…just me” Y/N brought her arms around his shoulders bringing her face into the crook of his neck as Daryl wrapped his arms tightly around her holding her close.
The things you do for love will always be something…that will always be changing
About four months later…
Y/N finally emerges from the basement living she and Daryl live in under the Grimes’s residence. She gave a smile to Michonne who said “good morning” in her arrival watching her friend join her and Judith at the kitchen island.
“Think you can handle breakfast?”
“Yes, I think I finally got over that ill spell” Y/N took a seat at one of the barstools smiling to Judith beside her before drawing her attention to the quick footsteps making their descend down the stairs.
“Hey! You’re up here, how yea feeling? Yknow Daryl—-“
“Has been having you ask every day since I came back from the Sanctuary not feeling well. I’m doing okay. Better than before”
“Great to hear that, I’ll tell Daryl in person when I make my rounds to the other communities” Rick smiles approaching Judith who was happy to see her dad. “First thing, take this little one to the teacher to watch her while we’re all out”
Michonne gave Y/N a confused look as she tiredly turned to her lifting her head from her hand.
“I’m gonna work in the pantry. So I don’t feel entirely useless”
“You’re allowed to take it easy” Michonne was stern with her words which brought the confusion out of Rick’s expression while he picked up Judith heading toward the door.
“I think I’ll be fine” Y/N shot a stern look at her friend as Michonne instantly waited for the front door to close, ultimately for Rick to leave. “The baby will be fine”
“Y/N, when are you going to tell Daryl so this doesn’t have been a secret between you and I? You’ve mentioned about a conversation you had with him that doesn’t quite add up to the fact that you didn’t——“
“He doesn’t want to have a baby.” Y/N frowns forming fists as she had the habit of digging her nails into her flesh to avoid the crying. “He doesn’t want to have a baby with him and I promised I wouldn’t. But I still got knocked up. Now he’s going to lose me or I’m going to lose him” the tears came anyway as the frustration was obvious in the discomfort in her face which led Michonne to maneuver around the island to bring herself beside her friend letting her rest her head on her shoulder as her arms caged her. “All I wanted was a family with the man that I love but the factors of being good enough or dying unexpectedly just floods that man’s mind and hell I can’t blame him for any of it. But now I’m plagued with it while I carry his child”
The two didn’t hear the click of the door finally closing. All that mattered was Michonne comforting her friend until it was time for the day to get started.
“I’ll be helping Gabriel rebuild his chapel with a few Saviors we have taken in for rehabilitation to show they can do something good. We are thinking of making it also the leading to the farm” Michonne stated as she walked Y/N to the pantry. “So I will be around if you need me. I’ll also keep an eye on the saviors. I know what some of them have been saying but we haven’t come across one angry with Rick or Daryl or literally any one of us”
“Are you really trying to say you’re watching out for my safety when I’m gonna be confined to a chair and a notepad for the most part”
“Yes, yes I am. Plus…the infirmary is right next door and I know Siddiq is doing his inventory and preparing shipment of medical supplies we’ve found on the runs we had recently.”
“Michonne”
“Yes?”
“You’re rambling” Y/N laughs opening the door to let herself in. “I’ll holler if I need anything” she says halfway inside when Michonne quickly reminded her about the no heavy lifting which got a scoff out of the woman.
About an hour or two has passed and Y/N groans out of boredom while sitting on the stool in the pantry. She stared out the window watching people walk passed or the few groups carrying wood and metal around for the walls and new buildings. Inventory was done, restock of what they have was done, and she was about to get started on the shipment for the Kingdom when she heard the door open.
“Michonne I really don’t need you watching—-“ Y/N stopped speaking when she watched the unfamiliar man step in quietly, assessing the environment. “Uhm. Can I help you with anything?”
“I was told by that scary priest that we hold the extra building supplies in here on occasion when the shed ain’t organized” He stepped around the pantry looking for himself before looking at Y/N as she couldn’t shake this familiar feeling. “You’ve got nails? Maybe a better hammer than this shit?” The hammer she didn’t notice before only confused her on where he pulled it out from. But asides from that, Y/N got off the chair and went to grab such for him.
“How’s the construction going?”
“It’s going. That Rick guy has us doing a lot just has his woman bossing us around” He scoffs looking at the jarred goods they have while Y/N knelt down to carefully go through a box for a smaller box of nails. “How can you even do what Rick asks y’all to do?”
“Have you even met Rick? He does the right thing, most of the time” Keeping Negan alive was the wrong one.
As Y/N rose to her feet with the box of nails she watched the man pull off the Polaroids that were stuck to the window. Just for a better look but it made her uneasy thinking he was going to get rid of them.
“Family?” He questions lifting up the ones with Glenn and Maggie, watching Y/N nod as he fixated on one with her and Daryl before putting them back. “Find’em?”
“Yeah, here” She handed off the box hearing him thank her before stepping out. But before she could even straighten out the pictures and take a seat, Y/N didn’t hear the door close entirely.
It didn’t take long for what to happen, happen.
The second she rounded the corner…Y/N flinched slightly being up close to the man without a name. She looked down to find a few nails shoved deep into her side. The shock made the pain not come right away and she was still experiencing it while he drove them to the point he couldn’t.
“You are just as dumb as you were back when you were his wife.” He glares into the deep pits of her soul as Y/N lifted her head from watching the blood spill from her side. Her mind racing to one thing. “Rick shoulda killed him. Your bitch dog of a man shoulda killed him. Maybe even the sword lady. Anybody. Then you all would’ve been seen as stronger instead of weak ass beings.”
“I-…I—-“ Y/N felt the tears spill and he grabbed her face to make her force eye contact.
“Let me take you away from everybody and I’ll watch them suffer” then the man quickly removed his hand when he heard voices outside. He pushed her aside but the blood loss led it to be a bit more dramatic as she fell to her knees.
As he made his escape through the back, Y/N slumped against the wall hesitant to touch her side. But they weren’t in prime condition, they could have some traces of rust and she can’t afford an infection if she wants any chance of that surviving.
A few were hard to pull out and one was embedded deep that Y/N contemplated letting it stay in but she was already this far.
Baby.
Baby.
Baby.
Baby.
…
Daryl… Y/N sobbed as she used her knife to cut into her to pull out the last nail that was embedded deep. She had to stop the bleeding so she could go get help and knew she had towels in the other room out of the foyer. But the blood loss was too much that when her weak body crawled about halfway there, it gave out.
“Daryl”
“I know this shithole sucks but yea said you’d be here earlier” Daryl clearly was in a mood while working on his bike, and with Rick only crossing his arms with an annoyed expression after his words. He knew he shouldn’t have expressed all of that. “Sorry. I’m frustrated.”
“Did something happen?”
“No…” Daryl frowns fiddling with a tool in hand. “Y/N hasn’t radio’d me today. Michonne was gonna give hers to my girl so I can check up on her but nothin’”
“I’m sure there’s a good reason for that. Plus I’ve got uh…an update of my own regarding your wife” Now he had to be careful. He did hear everything in the kitchen that morning but Rick isn’t the best at de-escalating the situation.
But it felt like fate for him to be interrupted by his radio in that exact moment.
“Rick—-Are you with Daryl?”
“Gabriel? Yes, why?”
“Michonne—-Hilltop” his end was cutting out and the urgency only stressed the retired sheriff and huntsman. “Bleeding—-Stopped—-Other reasons—-Y/N”
“Gabriel. Who’s injured?!” Rick shouts annoyed as the silence grew for a moment.
“Y/N was found bleeding—-Attacked—-Go to Hilltop”
“Load up. Forget the bike” Rick stated even though the second Daryl heard it was confirmed to be Y/N, he went right into the driver’s seat of Rick’s truck. Rick quickly got in the passengers and didn’t wait another minute to tell Daryl.
The accident happened a few hours ago before Gabriel radio’d Rick. He only comm’d him as per request from Michonne to update him and to get Daryl on their current actions of getting Y/N to the Hilltop. For their ultrasound machine. The one from the Sanctuary got moved to the Kingdom to be repaired by a retired technician.
Y/N sat up in bed in the medical trailer not liking the feeling of the IV in her arm and the antibiotics Siddiq had her on. Made the sick feeling return and the nausea meds never worked on her.
“Daryl is on his way” Michonne frowns sitting in the chair beside her as Maggie sat at the edge of the bed with her hand rested on her calf. Both being protective of her in her current state.
“I didn’t get a name of the guy…”
“Hun we don’t have to do that now” Maggie assured her. “Aaron and Rosita are looking for the guy back home with the description you gave before they moved you here. We don’t have to talk about it at all and focus on you staying alive and healthy”
The tears returned as Y/N pulled her hand away so she could hide her face in them. As she sobbed she didn’t hear the sound outside of 1. The car stopping in front of the trailer. 2. Daryl shouting at a few people. And 3. The sound of a Hilltop resident screaming after Daryl shoved them out of his way to get inside the trailer. The second the door opened and his worry expelled from him, Michonne and Maggie got up from their spots moving so he could get close to his wife.
Michonne motioned for Maggie to leave with her as she instantly went to Rick to talk about the guy that attacked Y/N.
Daryl instantly wrapped his arms around her feeling her grab fists full of his vest, making him want to squeeze her but he instantly pulled away when she winced. He started to check her person himself even if Siddiq does a great job with his assessment after dealing with the main problem. He even checked her bandages watching the discomfort grow on her face along with a few tears still falling.
“Are you okay? What did that bastard do to yea? Is the peanut okay?”
“What?”
“Is the baby okay?” Daryl’s voice cracked when asking that question as it only made Y/N cry even more giving him mixed signals.
Someone told him she thought and as much as that brought relief, it brought a lot of regret and pain that she didn’t tell him herself.
As she pulls from his touch, Daryl watches her reach for the table beside the bed grabbing a piece of paper before returning and giving it to him. He carefully took it into his hands looking at the picture of the peanut that was very much still there. He exhales relieved, feeling his own tears spill and the softness of her hands gently wipe them away.
“I’m sorry—-“
“No.” Daryl cut her off setting the photo in her lap so he could take her hands into his. “I…I shouldn’t have said what I said months ago…I didn’t want to push you away ever if this were to happen. Cuz let’s be honest with ourselves, we fuck like bunnies. It was bound to happen” he broke out in a smile listening to Y/N laugh to his words. He planted a kiss on her cheek as she kept that smile of hers. “We…we can die to anythin’ and that shouldn’t stop us from living.”
“Daryl…”
“Let’s go home, sunshine. Let me protect the both of yea”
Daryl helped Y/N get in the car before approaching the small group that was fixated on the woman.
“There’s a lead”
“You know I’m not gonna hesitate to kill that guy” Daryl stated and instead of receiving the usual Rick talk about no need to go far he was genuinely confused. “What”
“I’m going to help you get the son of a bitch. He does want to take us out because of Negan”
“You’re willing to be bait?”
“If Rick gets hurt, your ass is next” Michonne threats with a smile before joining Y/N in the car giving them a bit more time to discuss then joining their partners.
The day progresses into the night and Daryl found the right moment to slip away from his spot beside his wife so he could leave the house to take care of business.
As the man climbs over the wall after hiding out until night, he stumbled on his landing and when he straightened up he was face to face with Rick.
“Seriously. Just let me go”
“I don’t think that’s gonna happen”
“Like you of all people will pull the trigger” He scoffs, making the mistake of reaching for his weapon because that led to a bolt piercing him in the side of the skull.
Rick watches the body fall limp to the floor before turning to Daryl emerging from the shadows.
“There’s gonna be more like him” Rick stated. “We won’t kill them all”
“Anybody, and I fucking mean anybody…who comes near my pregnant wife the way that guy did? Will meet the same fate”
And on that note, he returned back to his spot beside Y/N who instantly rolled over to face him and bring herself close.
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Georgia Peach
Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader | Farm Era
A/N: this is for @ghostboneswrites2 summer challenge!! my first time ever participating in a challenge, and i had so much fun! i obviously chose the peachy prompt hehe. daryl writers! you should join this here! deadline is august 31st :)
Warnings: slightly suggestive, reader has a southern accent, suggestively eating a peach?, mentions of walkers, mentions of death by walkers.
Word Count: 760
(peach divider from @strangergraphics )
The Georgia sun was known to create a wet heat that sticks to your skin if you go outside for more than a second. Your mama always said that the sun is fond of the softest skin. The amount of times you’ve gotten sunburnt growing up proved your mother’s words to be true.
A lot has changed since last summer. The part you miss the most was your mama rubbing aloe on your sunburnt cheeks. She wasn’t around anymore. None of your family was. You blame the biters for that.
You had to run from your farmhouse when it got taken over by the freaks. Luckily, your friend Maggie and her father, Hershel took you in on their farm. You had to work to earn your keep, but it was the amount of chores you were used to at your old home.
Another thing that has changed since last summer is the amount of people you live with. A new group had come looking for refuge on the farm a couple of days ago, and the front yard was scattered with tents of strangers.
Strangers were conflicting to you. Your daddy had the idea that you could never be too cautious around strangers, but your mother always treated strangers with kindness and warmth. Well, you always have been your mother’s daughter.
The first morning with the group, you had woken up at sunrise to go pick fresh peaches for everyone. You knew that they had spent some time on the road and had probably gone without the taste of a fresh Georgia peach for some time. Seeing the smiles on their faces after they bit into the ripe fruit made a sense of pride swell up in your chest. You made it a habit to bring them peaches every morning.
There was one man who had yet to take one of your peaches. Daryl, you heard someone call him. He seemed to be on the same schedule as you; running off into the woods every morning while you were out picking peaches. He always comes back home around dusk and goes straight to his tent, (which was further from the rest) skipping on socializing with the group.
You asked a woman named Carol about him. She told you that no matter what the group says about him, she knows that he’s a good man since he spends every day looking for her daughter. When you asked what the group says about him, she just shook her head and said “all kinds of nasty things.”
You took that as a hint to be weary around the mysterious man… but that didn’t mean he didn’t need one of your peaches.
This morning, you had decided to wake up before Daryl in order to catch him before his search. Hearing the song that the birds were singing, you started humming as you filled your basket with the juicy fruit. You saw Daryl in the distance, coming out of his tent with his crossbow slung over his shoulder, so you made your way over to him.
He eyed you as you approached him and stopped about five feet away from him.
“You’ve been missin’ out on my peaches.” You say to him with a smile.
He didn’t say anything as he took in the lacy dress and hair bows that you were wearing.
“Well?” You held the basket up. “Do ya want one?”
He stayed put as he gestured to your appearance. “Ya always go out here in that? Ain’t exactly practical.”
You bring the basket back down to your side and smirk while looking at his exposed arms that were starting to sweat in the morning heat. “Don’t exactly need practical when I’ve got big, strong men around here.”
He looks at the ground and brings his thumb up to his teeth to chew on the skin there.
“Look,” you start, “I’m just doin’ my part around here and making sure y’all have somethin’ sweet.”
He meets your eyes again and drops his thumb from his mouth. Daryl walks up to you, only stopping when you’re face to face. “Well ain’t you just a peach.”
He grabs a peach from your basket and bites into it in front of you. Some of the orange colored juices start to drip down his chin, but he wipes them with his fingers and sucks them clean.
As he walks away, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. Daryl Dixon was going to become a problem that you just can’t resist.
#ddssf#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#twd#daryl dixon twd#daryl x female reader#twd daryl#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x you#daryl dixon fanfic#fic challenge#daryl dixon suggestive#the walking dead daryl dixon#daryl
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Meet Cute
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary: Reader is surviving in the apocalypse alone, until she meets a stranger who needs her help, even if he doesn't want to admit it. This is a reimagining of when Daryl gets hurt trying to find Sophia in Season 2, in which the reader shoots Daryl instead of Andrea. This can be read as stand alone, but can also be read as a prequel fic to "Your Fault," describing how reader and Daryl met for the first time. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me).
Era: Hershel farm era.
Tropes: Angst, Fluff (if you squint at it), Patching up someone's wounds.
Warnings: I mean, I don't think there's any. I'll say references to past trauma with survivors, but mentioned only once or twice and not detailed. Blood and gore, because the reader is patching up Daryl's wounds and of course zombies. Cursing, not a lot, but a few words.
Word Count: 4.1K (Oops) (Seriously did not mean for it to be this long.)
Note: There is minimal use of (y/n). Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you". I tried to proofread the best I could, nobody's perfect. If you don't like, don't read, but if you do like you're my favorite!
Internal monologue is done in italics and is in first person.
ENJOY!
Main Masterlist
Future Fic "Your Fault"
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It was raining and you were having a bad day. You weren’t having a bad day because it was raining, you actually liked standing in the rain, feeling the cool water drip down your face and through your clothes made you feel alive in the best way. It was difficult to find things that made you feel alive, especially after two months in the zombie apocalypse.
You considered yourself lucky, the first day everything went to hell you had slept through it. Pulling a double at the hospital downtown knocked you out and you woke up to the screams and the pounding of feet in the hall of your apartment building.
By then the phones were gone, electricity to the city had been cut off and you were hopelessly alone. Not unwelcome, due to the fact that it had been you on your own since your father had died a year earlier, but still acute enough for you to notice. It took you a week to leave your apartment to try and scavenge for food, even then you were not ready for the carnage that waited on the streets of Atlanta. After another week you realized that you needed to get out, it was too dangerous to be there. The military had failed and there was nothing left for you in the city. So you packed your backpack and said goodbye to your old life. Finding the cabin outside Atlanta was fortuitous, especially after you ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere. That being said when you found it originally, it had its quirks. No windows, a door that hung off its hinges, blood stains on the wooden floors, and no running water all made the cabin less than ideal.
But after two months it was home.
You sigh to yourself as you reset the trap, hiding it underneath the wet dead leaves as rain dripped from the treetops above. Someone or something was getting into your traps. It was the third time in a week it had happened and you were starting to get annoyed. You suspected it was a walker, since you continued to find bits and pieces of squirrel in the forest around the trap.
You continue your trek in the half-circle one mile out from the cabin. It was a nice spot, dense forest with a small creek that ran through, small enough to cross, but enough water that you didn't have to worry about going any further to find it. The only time you left the cabin was to scavenge, but that took a few days of preparation.
Rain pattered softly over the fallen leaves, weaving in and out of the canopy above, and kissing your skin. Being alone never bothered you before, but the thought that you might be the last person on earth was different. It was one thing to choose to be alone, another thing to be forced into it.
The sound of shuffling and sliding leaves makes you pause, ears peeled. You did not see too many walkers where you were and figured that because you were in the middle of nowhere there weren't enough people to turn.
The shuffling gets louder and you duck behind one of the trees, drawing your pistol from the belt at your waist. It was a gift from your father when you moved to Atlanta to start your residency. Target practice every week made you a good shot and helped blow off steam when shifts at the hospital were tough. Unfortunately, you hadn't been able to find many bullets, which prompted you to carry a hunting knife on the opposite side of your waist. The only ammo stores you found were stripped down and desolate. Sometimes you worried what would happen when you ran out.
You hear the heavy exhale of the walker as it continues through the woods behind the tree where you are hiding. You peer around the tree trunk, watching it shuffle along. It's wearing dark clothes, blood dripping from its side as it hunches over and travels away from you. A crossbow is strapped along it's back at an awkward angle and every step it releases a heavy exhale.
You click off the safety. Probably the same walker that's been eating all my squirrels. You think to yourself as you aim the gun at the back of the walker's head and take in a deep breath. But just as you pull the trigger, the walker stumbles to the left and the bullet scrapes along the outside of the walker's skull.
Shit.
As it falls, it hits its head on a tree stump and lies still, face down. You come out from behind the tree cautiously, replacing the pistol at the holster on your waist and pull out the hunting knife. The walker doesn't move.
Okay. I can do this. I can do this-
You tap it with your boot. It groans once, but doesn't make an attempt to get up. Wait. If its groaning and not moving is it not-
You bend down and grab the back of the walker's shirt, avoiding the crossbow to roll it over, and suddenly realize, it's not a walker, it’s a man.
SHIT.
"Hello?" You poke his chest once, twice, but he doesn't respond. "Um- Sir? Are you okay? Can you speak?"
Why did I just call him sir?
The man groans softly, but does not open his eyes.
SHIT.
You hadn't run into many people in the apocalypse. Saw them from afar, but never approached one. Your father had instilled in you that desperate situations bred a new kind of person. No one could be trusted. The one time you had run into a group, you learned that the hard way. You shake it off and look down at the man on the ground.
He's covered in a layer of dirt and grime, a necklace of walker ears hangs over his dark green tank top, a large hunting knife hangs from his waist next to a child's doll, and blood soaks through the side of his shirt.
Why does he have a doll? Is he like one of those truckers on the highway that has a teddy bear strapped to the front of their semi? Because that's kind of weird.
You stepped closer to examine where the blood has stained his shirt along his side. He's really hurt.
You raise your head to look around the forest around you. He doesn't have a pack, his camp must be nearby. Which means that there might be others that come looking for him.
You look back down at the man where the bullet scraped through his hair, watching the blood trickle down the side of his head. You think about leaving him there. I don't know him. I can just walk away no harm done-
You bite your lip. I can't do it. I can't leave him here. You curse your conscience. Now I just have to haul him the entire mile back to my cabin, without waking him up or hurting him.
Great.
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Dragging him back to the cabin through the woods and up the front steps took over an hour. You were too afraid to drag him back quickly, afraid that it would do more harm than good especially because you were unsure how bad the wound on his side was. He hadn't woken up, a bad sign, but you were optimistic.
Guilt momentarily fills your chest. You wouldn’t have shot him if you knew he was still alive. You probably would have just let him go on his merry way. But then you think about how he stumbled.
If I let him go, how far would he have gotten? Maybe me taking him is better than the alternative.
Staring at him laying on the hardwood floor made you wonder if this was a bad idea. You didn't know him. He might have a group somewhere and he might be faking to find out where you lived.
If he is faking he is certainly committed. You mused gazing down at him again.
He was older than you, by a few years at least, with brown hair that stuck out in different directions. Your eyes sweep his clothes, nose wrinkling at the strand of walker ears around his neck. His clothes were dirty, covered in dirt and dead blood. You had taken great care with his crossbow, setting it down on the small wooden table that you usually ate at, noticing how clean it was.
He must really care about it.
You couldn’t help but notice how small the man looked laying on the floor. And it made you feel more guilty about shooting him.
You walk away to get your medical bag, it was on the makeshift kitchen counter on the right back wall. The cabin was one room, in one corner there was a giant cabinet filled with whatever cans you could salvage, in another there was a wooden counter with a non-working sink, a small fireplace sat on the left wall, and in another there was a small twin sized bed covered in mismatched blankets. You had been prepping for winter, moving further and further into town to salvage what you could and storing chopped wood against the inside wall by the fireplace. The thought of winter scared you more than you’d care to admit. Especially with the squirrel traps giving less and less each day.
I wonder if this is the person stealing all my squirrels. You frown to yourself. Maybe I shouldn't help him.
You hear a strange sound behind you and as turn around, bag in hand, you notice that the man isn't on the ground anymore. He's standing, crossbow drawn, pointed directly at your chest.
Great.
"Where the hell am I?" The man growls.
Your chest tightens in fear. By the time I reach for my gun he’ll shoot me.
"It’s okay." You force the tremor from your voice, trying your best not to look frightened. The bag drops to the ground and you hold up your hands in front of you in a gesture of surrender. "You're at my cabin. You're safe."
"Why?" His eyes narrow as he takes another step forward.
This was such a bad idea. Granted I also would have that reaction if I woke up in a strange place.
"I'm a doctor. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You collapsed and I noticed you were bleeding."
He backs up towards the door without turning around, eyes wild, body tense, ready to spring.
"Wait please. I feel really bad-"
The guilt is back now as you look at the scrape along his head and the blood soaked shirt.
"Why?" The man narrows his eyes.
"Because I-" You scrunch up your face in embarrassment. "I thought you were one of those things and I shot you. I'm sorry."
"You shot me?"
"Yes. I mean, you stumbled at the last second and I missed, but I'm also pretty sure that you hit your head pretty hard."
"What?"
"It felt wrong to leave you there.”
“I don’t need your help.” He spits.
“You’re probably right.” Your hands are still palm up in front of you. “But I thought it would be stupid if you survived this long with those things out there and then died from an infection. That's pretty pathetic." You smile sheepishly at your attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, but he doesn't smile.
Well the good news is if he leaves I'll never see him again, and I'll be able to forget about this entire awkward exchange. Who am I kidding? It’s going to haunt me at night, right up there with the time I tripped and ate it on the way to the microphone at my 8th grade talent show.
"I don't want your help." The man says again as he turns to go, but groans when he feels the muscles on his side strain with the movement.
"Please." You breathe. "It'll take ten minutes then you can leave and we never have to see each other ever again."
His eyes are still narrowed. They skate across your body sizing you up. “Are you alone?”
The question makes a cold shiver travel down your spine. It's the question that made you avoid other survivors, the question that made you tie your hair up under a hat, wear oversized clothes to hide your body, and a scarf to hide the bottom half of your face.
“If I say yes are you going to attack me?” Your throat is thick when you ask it.
He shakes his head.
You watch him curiously, but even though he’s pointing a crossbow at your chest you don’t think he’s lying. “Then yes.”
The man stands there for another few seconds. “Five minutes.”
“Fine."
He makes no move to lower the crossbow.
"Is it okay if I move or are you going to shoot me?" You raise an eyebrow.
The man sighs and finally lowers the crossbow, which you take as confirmation that you can pick up your medical bag.
What am I doing? I should have just let him leave. You think to yourself, watching the way his eyes dart around the cabin.
You both stand there awkwardly for a second. “You can just sit on the bed. It'll probably be easier than the chair.”
He sits down, but places the crossbow next to him on the bedside table, as if preparing for you to attack him.
You tried to remember the training you had for dealing with unwilling patients. Of course when that happened the hospital let them leave, but you didn’t want him to leave. You felt guilty for shooting him and you felt guilty for dragging him all the way here. And despite not knowing him, you were worried.
He could barely move without it hurting, what would happen if he left? One of those things were sure to get him on the way back wherever he came from.
You pull up a chair, so close to him that your knees are almost touching, and place the bag on your lap, looking through for your supplies.
“How long have I been here?”
“A little over an hour. Took me a while to drag you here. You’re heavier than you look.” You smile up at him, but he continues to frown.
“Are you really a doctor?”
“Why would I lie about that?” You shuffle through the bag, placing the supplies on the bed.
“I don’t know.” He shifts. “You don’t look like a doctor.”
“Because I’m a woman?”
“No. You're just-“
You wait for him to think of it, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.
Okay.
“This is going to hurt just for a second.” You soak the cloths in the antiseptic and raise one to the side of his head. The man flinches away from your touch with narrowed eyes. “For this to work I’m going to need to touch you.” You say softly with a gentle smile. You were under the impression that he wasn't mean, rather he just wasn’t used to other people.
He leans forward, looking away from you to give you access to the side of his head. Your left hand brushes away the strands of hair from where the bullet scraped along his head, dabbing with the cloth along the shallow wound. You were happy to note that it didn’t need stitches, but you still wanted to clean it out. The man doesn’t wince when the cloth touches his skin.
“I’m y/n by the way.”
He waits a beat. “Daryl.”
You continue to clean along the wound, concentrating on getting as much blood and dirt away from the opening.
“Have you been out here alone this whole time?” Daryl asks.
“Yeah. How about you?”
“No.”
Guess he doesn’t say a lot.
When you finish with his head, you start to reach for his shirt, but Daryl jumps hand twitching towards the crossbow.
“It’s okay." You smile at him. "I want to look at your side. If you could just take off your shirt-"
“No.”
“But I have to see it-“
He frowns at you. Finally, Daryl pulls up his shirt only enough for you to see the wound on his side, but no further. Just under the cloth of his shirt where it stops, you see remnants of pink scar tissue.
You try very hard not to look at the pink scar tissue, but you were curious. Was that why he didn't want me to take off his shirt?
He’s not looking at you. In fact the only time he made eye contact with you was when he was holding the crossbow.
“You might need to lie down for this one.”
Daryl eyes you again, before finally he lays down on his side, still not looking at you. The wound on his side is deeper, two piercings that go from the front of his abdomen and through to his back.
Did he shoot himself with the crossbow? How is that even physically possible?
“What happened?”
“Fell.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I think I’m going to need to pour the antiseptic in this one and it's going to hurt. You can hold my hand if you want.” You put your left hand on the bed as a peace offering. He doesn’t take it.
Or not.
As soon as the liquid touches his skin, Daryl fists his hand in the mountain of blankets, clenching his teeth together.
“I know I’m sorry.” You can't help but touch his arm and he flinches back away from you. “But now it’s clean and you don’t have to worry about infection.” You go through the motions with the stitches, pulling the needle through the skin smooth and steady, surprised that Daryl does not react to the needle. You reach for a bandage to cover the affected area. "Okay, so keep this clean, don't raise your arm up too high or the stitches will rip, change the bandage in a day or so. I'm going to give you one to take with you. Do you want some painkillers? I think I have some in here somewhere."
"No."
"Okay." You stand up and move out of his way so that he can get up from the bed, before beginning to look through the bag for a spare bandage.
Daryl stands there for a minute with his crossbow dangling from his right hand as if he's not sure what to say.
"Here." You hold out a bandage.
"Don't need it."
"Are you sure?"
Daryl nods once.
"Well if you rip your stitches or decide you want another bandage, you know where to find me." You can't help but smile at him.
As much as you were afraid of him at first, you couldn't help but like the interruption in the monotony of your day. And despite his gruff exterior, you liked talking to him. Which was surprising given the fact you hadn't liked talking to anyone else in the past.
He doesn't say anything, instead he starts to walk to the door of the cabin, but he stops. "Thanks." Daryl doesn't look away from the door.
"You're welcome. Be careful out there."
And then he's gone, leaving you in the still silence of the cabin once more.
********************************************
The next few days pass as they usually do. You check the traps, scavenge for water, read a book by the fireplace at night, but every time you leave the cabin you hope to see Daryl again, hope that he'll come back because he needed that bandage or maybe will just come by to sit in utter silence.
That last bit seemed the most in character.
You didn't want to admit to yourself how disappointed you were in the silence that followed his exit. Not because he spoke that much, but even his presence in the cabin made whatever this was easier. Before you relished in the fact that you were alone, but now after you met him, it felt too quiet.
However, you had noticed more dead in the area over the past few days and that made you worry.
What if Daryl never made it back to wherever it was he was going? What if he had gotten attacked as soon as he left? You tried not to think that, because Daryl looked capable enough to survive in the apocalypse. Definitely seemed capable when he held a crossbow to your face.
You jolt awake to the sound of someone frantically knocking against your door.
What?
You tighten your hand on the hunting knife under your pillow before you sit up in bed. Maybe I dreamed that.
Someone kicks open the front door of your cabin.
Definitely didn't dream that.
A ball of fear lodges in the back of your throat as you grab the gun on your bedside table, holding it up between you and the dark figure standing just inside the doorway.
"Y/n?" A familiar voice shouts.
"Daryl?" You lower the gun watching the dark figure turn to barricade the door.
"We have to go."
"Daryl what's wrong-" As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you hear the moaning and shuffling of the dead followed by the pounding of hands against the door.
Fear makes your entire body freeze. You had been in Atlanta long enough to watch the chaos, watch what happened in the streets, the memories of what you saw keeping you awake more than one night, memories of the masses of bodies swarming survivors and the ungodly screams that followed.
"We gotta go.” He grabs your wrist and hauls you out of bed.
In case of an emergency like this, you always slept fully dressed. You clip your belt around your waist before putting the gun back in the holster and throwing your oversized jacket on over your t-shirt. Your pack is on the floor by the back door. The medical bag is small enough to shove inside the black backpack.
“Come on!” Daryl grabs your hand and pulls you out the back door, dragging you through the woods behind him.
You glance over your shoulder. The moonlight above illuminates the mass of walkers that surely would have destroyed the small cabin and you inside.
He came back for me. The thought makes a surge of gratitude warm in your chest. He didn't even know me and he was willing to fight his way through dead infested woods to save me.
Daryl shoots one that stands in your way, glancing behind him to see the mass of walkers that follow, before letting go of your hand and reloading the crossbow.
“Where are we going?” You shout running behind him, gun drawn.
“Up ahead-“ He responds over his shoulder.
You break out of the tree-line onto a road, where a motorcycle waits haphazardly on the edge of the long grass.
He jumps on the motorcycle revving the engine once, looking up at you expectantly. You don’t hesitate. You kick your leg over the side and wrap your arms around his waist to secure yourself. Daryl's muscles tense as you do, but the motorcycle shoots off, the sound of the engine masking the moans and shuffles of the dead emerging from the trees behind you.
You drive for a few miles, far enough that you put your face into Daryl's back to block the onslaught of wind that comes up over the road.
As soon as Daryl hits the interstate he weaves through the broken cars, before finally parking in the median. The world sounds quieter without the roar of the motorcycle, you notice as the smooth silence of the night returns.
"Why did you come back for me?" You ask him, as you get off the seat before you can stop yourself.
Daryl lights a cigarette, not meeting your eye. "You helped me."
"After I shot you."
"You missed." He shrugs.
You snort. "I did." You look out over the desolate interstate where cars are haphazardly parked and empty luggage cases spew clothing onto cracked pavement. "So what now?"
Daryl blows out a lungful of smoke. "You could-" He stops.
"What?"
"Well." Daryl shifts his feet, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"Daryl?" You try to catch his eye worried that he's going to tell you to go away, that he's going to say goodbye right here right now.
"My group is supposed to meet up here." He doesn't meet your eye. "If you want you could come with us, but you don't have to." In the moonlight you swear you see his ears turn pink.
"Well," You sigh looking around. "How else am I going to repay you for saving my life? Might as well stick around."
"We're even."
"No. I think saving someone from zombies trumps suturing a wound. Plus, somebody's got to make sure you don’t shoot yourself with your crossbow again."
Daryl frowns. "I didn't shoot myself with my crossbow."
"I think that you did and that you're too embarrassed to say anything. But don't worry, your secret's safe with me."
He continues to frown at you, but it only makes you smile wider.
I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
***********************************
Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, be sure to read "Your Fault!"
#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fluff#twd#the walking dead#twd daryl dixon#daryl x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl x y/n#twd fanfics
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I need to show y’all this fauckin. Creature
Errrmm basically What if The Gups. Were more Animal than Vehicle. ignore the name change btw
#he is TERRIFYING <3#octonauts#octonauts gups#hershel’s octonauts au#i’ll drop actual ref sheets for the anivessels (gups) one day … C will be Genuinely Horrific and i mean that in the best possible way#imagine if you will. a blue whale. now give it a ranged attack in the form of Something on its tail#that can best be described as a part flesh part metal anchor#also its a LOT smaller than an actual blue whale but still Big and stares at you with the look of a royal guard. freakazoid#honestly the one who will ironically be one of the least scary is b. straight up tigershark cat hybrid i unno what else to tell you#MASSIVE teeth and can fly. that is something to be afraid of actually nvm b is scary#anyways … big spooky anglerfish that has bear tendencies. bye
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Stupid Games
Summary: Takes place during S2 You’re the eldest of the Greene sisters (about 10 years older than Maggie). You’re mean, overprotective of your family, and overall just kind of a mythic bitch. Daryl can’t seem to keep his eyes from wandering over you whenever you’re around. One day you run into each other in the woods while hunting down the same deer and Daryl finds himself being toyed with. Maybe you’re not as cold and forbidding as you let on, but then again, maybe you’re just luring him into playing a stupid little game with you.
A/N: This is an excerpt from a fic I want to post to AO3 but don’t have anything substantial enough to post a full chapter yet so I wanted to post this here and see if it was good enough to keep working on. Might post another part I have written as a companion piece if people like this enough.
The first time Daryl laid eyes on you, you were just a distant figure on the roof of the Greene family farmhouse as he rode in at the head of the convoy on his bike. You were sitting on the porch overhang, looking out over your father's land with the vigilance of a grizzled soldier on the front lines. He watched you stand up as they drove up your gravel path. You put out a cigarette you'd been smoking in an ashtray resting on an open window ledge before climbing into the house. He and the rest of the members of his group that had stayed behind at the highway the night previous had made it up to the path and met up with the people who were already working on something judging by the pile of rocks they were collecting in a wheelbarrow by the time you reemerged on the porch. You surveyed him and the others with a set and piercing stare, arms crossed defensively over your chest as if daring one of them to cause trouble and give you a reason to beat their ass. You were followed out of the house by an older man in his seventies and the rest of Daryl’s group. You took stock of the new arrivals, starting with him and working your way over everyone, scanning them like you could see everything there was to know about them on their skin and didn't like it. When you were done you fixed your gaze back onto Daryl as if you'd identified him as the biggest threat. He hated the feel of your suspicious stare, though he told himself it was typical of people to see him as nothing but trouble and to treat him like dirt so he should be used to it. The way you tilted your head from your elevated position on the raised porch—like you were looking down at an ant and trying to decide whether it was worth the energy to squash it—made him fidget.
“How is he?” Dale asked after Carl when Rick and Lori came out of the house looking like they’d just been through hell and hadn't slept a wink.
“He'll pull through,” Lori responded, relief clear in her voice, “Thanks to Hershel and his daughter, (y/n),” She said motioning towards you, “and their people, and–”
“and Shane,” Rick added, “We'd have lost Carl if not for him.”
Daryl watched your already cold eyes darken and a snarl twist across your face at the statement, failing to suppress an eye roll before you yanked your head away from the group and the conversation like it disgusted you, choosing instead to stare off towards a barn at a distant end of the property. He wondered what your problem was, but he wasn't wondering long. It was revealed soon after the group arrived that someone had gone with Shane when he went to retrieve medical supplies for Carl and that that person did not return with him. Someone you and your family cared for.
If it wasn't made clear by the way Lori recognized those living at the farm house as not just your father's people but yours as well that you were the oldest child, it would have become obvious by the way your sisters looked to you for comfort at Otis's funeral. The little blonde one bawled her eyes out and clung to you like a child clings to their mother while Maggie, the woman who'd rode up to them on a horse the other day, leaned down to your height to rest her head on your shoulder. You tucked the sniffling teenager under your arm protectively, rubbing at her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her forehead and then turned to bump your head softly against Maggie’s in a comforting way. Your lips pursed like you were sucking on a lemon as you tried your best to stay strong and not start crying like your sisters, pinning Shane with a frigid and accusatory glare that he expertly ignored as he told the story of how he and Otis were ambushed by a group of walkers while retrieving the medical supplies for Carl and that Otis had valiantly stayed behind to cover his retreat, shooting into the herd with a pistol before ultimately being swallowed up by the swarm and getting torn to shreds. Daryl found it miraculous that Shane managed to recover the gun but not the man that had supposedly been firing it in his daring escape—and by miraculous he meant shady. You didn't seem to be buying Shane’s story, either.
After the service your father motioned toward you and told you to show the guests where to set up their camp, as he graciously agreed to let them stay until Carl recovered and they had located Sophia. You nodded dutifly with a muttered “Yessir,” motioning to Rick with your head, beckoning him to follow as you untangled yourself from your siblings and began marching off in a direction with purpose, not looking back to check if anyone was following you. If the group couldn't keep up with your quick gait that was just too damn bad. They did their best to match your pace, some, like Daryl, breaking off to fetch the vehicles and bring them over to where they were meant to stay. When you got to a spot under some particularly shady trees a good distance from your house you stopped, looking around as you waited for the group to congregate. When everyone was grouped up again you addressed them directly for the first time that morning. Your voice was down to business and detached as you pointed out where the boundaries of the camp would be and where the well they could use for water was. “One more thing,” You said with the same rural twang as your sisters, your tone changing to one of warning as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, jutting out your hip and resting your hand against it. Daryl followed the movement, your curves drawing his eyes in a way that made him itch and blush. “My daddy believes we should be good christians—help our fellow men and give ‘em the benefit of the doubt, but I don't share his blind faith. I don't know you people and I don't trust you. I can’t afford to, I have a baby sister to protect. Beth is sixteen, you understand? She's a child. If I catch any of your men lookin’ at her, talkin’ to her—sniffin’ around her in any way, I will rip their balls off like I'm takin’ a part off a Mr. Potato Head.” You made a popping sound with your lips that had Daryl's stare fixing on them instead of your hips, and gave a motion with your hand as if grabbing at something and yanking it down. “Clean off,” you reiterated, staring Glen down who swallowed thickly and tried to give you a friendly and disarming smile that did not change your attitude in the slightest. “Maggie can take care of herself but still, if someone upsets her, with God as my witness there will be hell to pay.”
There was a loud silence from the group after your blatant threats of bodily harm that was broken by Dale, ever the peacekeeper. “We understand where you're coming from, you have nothing to worry from us. We're good people, you'll see. Thank you for letting us stay on your beautiful property while Carl recovers and we look for Sophia.”
You scoffed, “You're only here because we shot your boy,” you reminded bluntly as you turned to leave for your house, “don't thank us.”
Daryl’s first impression of you: You were a bitch, but a bitch who loved her family. The only times he ever caught you cracking a smile or being anywhere close to kind during those first few days was when you were with them. You seemed to disagree with your dad on a lot of things, but it was clear you both respected and loved each other and that you had a bond that had been worked on and cultivated to be strong enough for you to argue and debate and still look at each other with love. After every tiff he’d catch you having in the windows of the front room, spitting and pinching the bridge of your nose and tossing your hands up while your dad calmly spoke back you would sigh, relax your gaze, and kiss his cheek or his forehead before stomping off with a storm cloud over your head. You’d grin wolfishly as you and Maggie laughed conspiratorially on the porch in the afternoon, teasing each other as you ate cherries together, trying to hit each other with the pits you spat out. Your whole face would soften when you looked at Beth, practically glowing with unconditional adoration as you played on the guitar Dale had originally found for Glen and accompanied the little blonde girl as she sang her heart out. Your voice was low, bluesy, raw, and filled with vibrato. There was an untrained authenticity to it that was almost hypnotic. It paired well with your sister who sang like a songbird, pretty and light as if she’d been taught by actual birds. You were happy to let her take the center stage, supporting her through harmony while your fingers strummed frets with a clumsy sort of charm, like you were taught to play at one point but never practiced, and were now making all sorts of mistakes that were going to become bad habits without a proper teacher. It was later revealed that Otis had taught you the basics a few years back and you’d only bothered to pick it back up now that he was gone and Beth needed someone new to perform with. You softened for Patricia, as well, helping her in the kitchen and going out of your way to assist her with her chores on the farm despite having plenty of your own responsibilities to fulfill.
Daryl’s group, however, you continued to treat like shit on your shoe. You made no effort to hide that you wanted them off your property as soon as possible, only showing a hint of compassion when it came to Lori and Carol, the mothers of the group who were distraught over the perils of their children. They were the ones you supplied the group’s meals to, giving them bushels of produce and bottles of milk and sending your sisters over to hand them baskets of eggs, even going so far as to offer Carl some of your late step-brother’s hand-me-downs to wear, but you still had a cold sneer on your face when you handed things over and you didn’t speak to them unless it was to ask how Carl was recovering or if they were making any progress finding Sophia. You were only asking to try and gauge how much longer you’d have to wait before kicking them out, and you grew more and more agitated the more the group settled in. Every time Rick or Dale or anyone tried to appeal to you or your dad about staying longer or staying permanently you’d bristle like a cat being pet the wrong way. You made a point to avoid them most of the time, which was just fine with Daryl because every interaction he did have with you pissed him off, and only fueled his own frustration when it became harder and harder to ignore you or look away.
For instance, the first one on one conversation he ever had with you was out in the woods while he was looking for Sophia. He was about to give up the search for the day and head back when he picked up the trail of a deer. He stalked it through the woods, thinking it’d be better to provide the farm with some venison than to return empty handed again. When he finally found it, he took aim and shot it at an angle that had it sprinting off with a limp in the direction of the farm. That’s when he heard a startled gasp and watched as you rushed out of the nearby foliage with a rifle, taking aim at the retreating deer before realizing you couldn’t get a clear shot on it. You then turned to where he was, gun dropping in your arms as you pinned him with a furious look. “Congratulations, Numb-Nuts, it got away.”
“The hell are you doing out here?” Daryl snapped, face red at the way you were treating him like a dullard with no idea what he was doing.
You seemed flustered by the question, looking down and kicking at the dirt with your horse-riding boot. “Came out to hunt and figured I’d look around for the missing little girl while I was at it,” you said with a casual shrug, avoiding his eyes until you seemed to remember you were pissed at him at which point your head snapped up and that signature sneer of yours was back. “Saw the deer and was gonna take it out but somebody went and scared it off.”
“I shot it in the leg on purpose,” Daryl explained defensively, getting angry and up in your face, “see that trail it left? It’s carryin’ itself back to the farm, less effort this way.” He looked you up and down and scoffed, nodding towards your gun. “What's with the rifle, Annie Oakley? You shoot that thing, every walker in a five mile radius is gonna come here to tear you and that deer apart.”
You slung your weapon over your shoulder and crossed your arms defiantly, “It takes a buck down in one clean, quick shot. The animal feels little to no pain if you know what you’re doin’ so it’s not suffering with an arrow in its ass for half a mile. Plus, I woulda been outta here with the buck slung over my shoulder long before anything came over to check out the noise.” You were confident, clearly convinced you knew better and that your methods were best. Daryl couldn’t have that. He had a good decade’s worth of experience on you and he hadn't had his hand held the whole time he was taught to track the way you probably had. He licked his lips ready to knock you down a peg.
“Yeah, but you’d be so exhausted from caryin’ it the whole way that if a walker came up on you, you’d be too tired to fight it off. Maybe you’d be able to drop the deer and fumble for your rifle, but that’s as far as you’d get. It’d be on you in a second. Would a little thing like you be able to fight it off? You even got a weapon other than that big ol’ Elmer Fudd gun?” As he was talking he saw your expression shift. You tilted your head like something had just occurred to you and you were sizing him up.
Suddenly, you brought your right leg up, bent at the knee so you could lift a jack knife from your boot, and flicked the blade out so it pointed at his chest. That shut him up for a second. He really hadn’t expected the quickness with which you had it drawn on him. “Believe me,” you let out a bored, breathy sigh, a smirk on your face like you knew you had the upper hand, “I’ve got some experience dealing with ravenous things that want to pin me down and devour me, I can handle myself just fine.” …were you still talking about walkers? You were, right? The way you poked the tip of your knife against the skin of his chest peeking out from under his open collar and gently dragged it down until it caught on the button of his shirt had him feeling goosebumps on his flesh and hearing innuendo in your words. You took a step towards him, looking up at him through long lashes with your chest puffed—either in pride or in an attempt to get him to look at your breasts. Regardless of the reason, It was working. “What about you? You sure you can catch up to that deer before somethin’ else does? You said it yourself, it’s hurt and slowing down—a biter could take it down in a matter of moments. Then what, tough guy?” Daryl had nothing to say in defense of that. Partly because your slightly seductive shift in demeanor had his mouth going dry and partly because you had a point and he knew it. He remembered the last time he’d hunted a deer like this, it’d carried itself all the way back to the quarry camp before getting caught on the fishing line of the perimeter alarms they put up and then it’s stomach was ripped apart and it’s innards devoured by a walker that followed the sound of a wounded, frightened animal and jingling cans. You must have seen in his eyes that you’d caught him because your slight smile spread into a full-on Cheshire cat grin. You retracted your knife and returned it to your boot, turning and sauntering off in the direction the deer had run off in. “guess we’d better go find it, huh?”
Daryl stalled for a second, stunned by your behavior. One second you’re spitting venom at him and making him feel like he’s two feet tall, the next you’re purring like a kitten and being the biggest fucking tease he’d ever had to endure. He mentally smacked himself when he realized he’d been so focused on the sway of your hips as you walked away that he wasn’t following you like he should be. He began jogging to catch up with you, falling into step easily as you both picked up the deer’s trail again. “You even know how to track?” He couldn't help but keep trying to pick a fight with you—he didn’t even know why, but as much as bickering with you pissed him off, he also found it fun. You didn’t treat his meanness like something you had to quell or cry about like his group did, you stood your ground and tossed your own barbs right back at him. It was like a game. A game he seemed to be losing, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop playing.
You looked over to him, a brow raised as you scanned him up and down. “Yes, I do. Do you own a shirt you haven’t ripped the sleeves off of?” You nodded to the button down he was wearing. He’d torn the sleeves off a few days ago because it was too hot to wear them and he needed the fabric to tie markers off on trees to denote what parts of the woods he’d already searched through in case the others ever decided to get off their asses and help look for Sophia. He had a few other shirts that had sleeves at some point but no longer did that he wore in a common rotation. He must have had a sour look on his face at your retaliating comment because you shook your head and chuckled under your breath, “don’t play stupid games if you don’t wanna win stupid prizes.”
You walked through the woods mostly in silence after that, not wanting to make an abundance of noise and end up accidentally spooking the deer. That became a competition as well, with you both smirking in triumph every time the other stepped on a twig or kicked up a bit of dirt in your effort to leave as little evidence of a trail as possible. Eventually, as you were coming up on a clearing near the edge of your property where the tall grass almost completely covered the view of your home in the distance, Daryl stuck his hand out to stop you and put a finger to his lips, pointing towards the buck you’d both been after peeking out through the foliage, whining softly and doing its best to lick at the wound in its back leg. You took cover behind a honeysuckle bush and Daryl nodded at you and your gun, “I got the last shot, your turn.”
You hesitated a second, scanning the woods and warily looking towards your farm. “Too close to home to use the gun now, it’d attract the dead to our property. Lemme borrow that crossbow of yours.” You held your hand out for it and Daryl clutched it away from your grasp. You looked at him first confused by his reluctance then annoyed, “please?” you said petulantly. After a beat of studying your face he eventually relented, but only after you’d started pouting a little. The second it was in your grip you hefted it up, remarking that it was heavier than you expected.
Daryl watched you handle it a bit clumsily as you got used to holding it and his fingers itched to show you how to aim it right. In the end, he couldn’t help himself. He came up behind you and put his hands on your hips, angling them the right way so you had a solid stance. He felt you stiffen under his hands and could hear your breath catching in your throat. “You wanna stand like this,” he coached, his arms coming around you to adjust your elbows and help you aim the weapon straight. You leaned back against his chest a little, maybe unconsciously, maybe on purpose. “Then just use the arrow tip like a sight and pull the trigger.” He could feel you shift as his breath brushed against the skin of your neck. The way you acted made you so big and imposing, but actually having you in his arms made you feel so small and demure; like he could envelop you entirely and keep you all to himself if he wanted. The way you’d been acting the past half hour made him feel like you might want that, too. The idea sort of excited him a little—made his pants and his chest feel tight. There was a quiet moment where he expected you to aim and fire, but it passed and the arrow still hadn’t been shot. He turned to look at you and see what the hold up was. Surley, you weren’t that unsure of your aim. He flinched back a bit when he moved his head in your direction and almost brushed noses with you, as you were not looking at the deer and had instead shifted to look back at him, a look on your face reminiscent of a cat playing with a cornered mouse.
“You really are just like any other man, aren’t you?” you crooned out in a teasing tone.
“What?” his mind went blank in his dumbfoundedness and that was all he could manage to utter.
“In my experience, I’ve found that any man who’s attracted to a woman is always willing to believe two things about her: One, that she doesn’t know anything about anything and needs him to help her, and two, that she’s just as attracted to him as he is to her.” Daryl’s mouth opened and closed like a fish at that statement, unsure what you meant or how he was supposed to respond. In that time you yanked yourself out of his grip, redid your stance, took aim with perfect form, and let loose an arrow with absolutely no hesitation. The deer let out a sad bleat as it was shot in the eye and then it crumpled into the grass, dead as a doornail. You handed his crossbow back to him with a nasty, shit-eating grin. “Do I really strike you as the type of person who’d ask to borrow somethin’ I didn’t know how to use? Honestly now, all I had to do was bat my lashes and push up my tits and you were all ‘here, let me get up close behind you and show you how to hold this big heavy tool’.” You said those last three words in an erotic and over dramatic moan, getting close to press your breasts against him as you ran your hand up his chest.
He pushed you away, a heavy blush heating his face while you began to cackle maniacally at him. “How the hell was I supposed to know you knew how to use it when you were fumbling with it like a toddler?” he barked out angrily as you stepped out from behind the bush you’d both been hiding behind and began walking towards the farm, still laughing. “Hey! Ain’t you gonna take the deer? It’s your kill!”
You turned around with mirth dancing in your eyes and a wide happy grin on your face. The light of the setting sun bounced off your hair making it look so shiny as the light summer breeze ran through it, making it float and sway around you in such a pretty way. Daryl felt his heart pound hard in his chest as he glared over your retreating figure. You were walking backwards, tucking a few strands of hair that had flown into your face back behind your ear as you said, “Who, me? But I'm just a ‘little thing’ who’d get tired if I carried it all the way back. You’re the big strong man—use those big strong muscles to carry it back for me. Oh, and since you’re the big strong provider, you can go ahead and string it up, drain it, and skin it, too. Thanks for your help,” you sing-songed sarcastically, “I just don’t know how I ever woulda done it without you!” Daryl began to huff, storming towards you for a second, unsure of what he’d even do if he caught you, but he felt like you’d just tricked him and he didn’t like it. You held your hands up in your defense as you saw him coming. “Stupid games, stupid prizes,” you reiterated with a shrug as you giggled and turned, running back towards the farm and leaving him in the thicket with the dead buck.
Daryl got the sudden sense as he watched you slow your pace to a jog then a brisk walk once you’d gotten far enough away that this had all been a test of some kind. He couldn’t tell if he passed or failed, but you certainly seemed pleased about the results either way. He kicked at the ground, a clump of dirt launching into the air as he did so, and moved to heft the buck over his shoulder. He didn’t know if or when you’d ever come looking to play again, but if you did, he’d make sure he won.
As he strung up the deer in a tree a little ways away from the group’s makeshift camp later that afternoon, cutting at its arteries and letting the blood drain out of it, he imagined what you might look like when he got the upper hand on you. What would you look like when the sneers and the smirks were wiped away and you were pinned down, completely at his mercy—all flustered with your cheeks flushed, trying to squirm your way out from under him. He bet you’d still have bite. He bet you would still spit venom, but maybe he could get you to purr for him, too. Maybe he could get you to look at him the way you looked at your family, all sweet smiles and gentle touches. The thought made him eager to play another one of your stupid little games.
#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl x reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x female reader#twd fic
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we BEG for some vamp!daryl x reader headcanons😩
Vampire!Daryl Dixon x Reader Headcannons
Word count: 881.
A/n: Ask and you shall receive! I'm so happy that y'all like my version of vamp!Daryl. It really means the world to me. Also, I'm working on a Michonne fic that I wanted to have up tonight but it's taking me a little longer than I had anticipated, so it should be up tomorrow instead. Anyway, I hope you like this!
★ Daryl kept his vampire side a secret from everyone at the quarry camp.
★ He fed on his hunts and never around people.
★ He'd eat the beans that were offered to him by you, but realistically he knew that, even though he could consume human food, they held absolutely no nutrition for him and he'd starve if he didn't feed. So he'd eat the food offered to him and just get the blood he needed when he went on hunts.
★ You were the first person to find out that he was a vampire, and it was completely on accident.
★ You had stumbled across him feeding on a rabbit when you went looking for mushrooms, and had freaked out at the sight.
★ However, you didn't freak out because he was feeding on a rabbit. You freaked out because, from your perspective, he looked like a walker, hunched over the rabbit.
★ It took a lot of convincing and reassurance for you to calm down and not tell the others what you had seen.
★ You kept his secret pretty well, considering the fact that you seemed to be afraid of him.
★ However, you started getting more comfortable around him when you sustained an injury while looking for Sophia that was extremely bloody and he didn't even flinch. He simply picked you up and took you to Hershel to get you fixed up.
★ When you later asked him about it, he told you that he had years of practice behind him. That's how he was able to resist the smell of your blood.
★ The two of you formed an unlikely friendship after that. It shocked everyone, including Daryl himself, but for some unknown reason, he wasn't complaining.
★ You were the one who hunted and brought back some animal blood for him when he was injured while looking for Sophia.
★ You were also the one who convinced Hershel to let Daryl back to his tent earlier. You knew with Daryl's advanced healing, and with the blood you got for him, he'd be healed in no time. That would be extremely hard to explain.
★ Daryl's identity got revealed when the farm fell and he used some of his inhuman speed to save a couple of people.
★ It took a while to get used to him after that, but when people saw he didn't pose any immediate threats, people weren't too worried about him anymore.
★ Yours and Daryl's relationship only grew as the days progressed.
★ You went hunting with Daryl and asked him questions about his species, and without him really knowing, you made a mental list as to how to care for him.
★ One thing you were surprised to note was his complete self-control when it came to human blood. You knew he had told you that he had years of practice, but it was still impressive to see his self-restraint.
★ Daryl once had to kill a person with his fangs to save you. That's the only time you saw him lose control and feed on a human.
★ He thought that you'd be terrified of him after that, but you weren't. Quite the contrary, you found what he did to keep you safe kind of hot, but you would never outrightly admit that to him.
★ As the days went on, Daryl's feelings for you only grew stronger.
★ Unbeknownst to him, your feelings for him grew stronger as well.
★ When the prison fell, Daryl felt as if he just wanted to die completely.
★ And when he found you again after Terminus with Carol and Tyreese, he felt like he was alive again—truly alive for the first time in decades.
★ The weeks before you found Alexandria was a whirlwind of emotions.
★ But when you got to Alexandria, things started to look up. So much so that you felt courageous enough to just act on an impulse and grab him by his jacket and pull him into a kiss.
★ That first night in Alexandria, the two of you spent a passionate night together.
★ The two of you kept your relationship a secret from everyone. Daryl's identity wasn't a secret from the people in Alexandria because he couldn't be bothered to hide that part of him, so the two of you didn't need any judgement from them because a human and a vampire were in a relationship.
★ The first time Daryl ever agreed to drink from you was after your first encounter with Dwight and Sherry.
★ He was weak and needed the strength to keep the two of you safe since the two people took your weapons, so he needed blood—your blood.
★ He wouldn't admit it, too ashamed to do so, but your blood was like a tasteful, addictive drug to him.
★ One taste was enough to make him want more, but he would never do so without your consent.
★ Whether he ever drinks more of your blood, I'll let you all decide.1
#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon#the walking dead#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x female reader#twd daryl#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon the walking dead#the walking dead daryl#daryl#daryl fanfiction#twd daryl x reader#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#vampire!daryl dixon#vampire!daryl#vamp!daryl dixon#vamp!daryl#vampire au#twd au
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end of season 2 when the group escape hershel’s farm from the walkers, but they all get separated including daryl and his wife/girlfriend but they don’t realise until they have made it back to the highway. Daryl is all angry and just wants to find her. basically a bunch of angst w a maybe happy ending?
you can ignore this if you don’t like it 🖤
trouble — daryl dixon 🩰
in which you’re separated after the fall of the farm, and all daryl wants is you.
notes:
also this won't follow the show (except the desecration of the barn) as s2 was so long ago and i don't really remember it
guys i want him so bad
You don’t really remember how it all happened. A gunshot echoed in the field, the sound resembling a small bang to your ears due to the distance. And all Hell broke loose. You were with Daryl, sat with him on the staircase, just enjoying each other's company, a mumbled conversation between you. But you couldn't remember what about, now that you'd been handed a gun and sent out to the field to keep the walkers at bay. It was no use, you knew this from the start. But this group you've been attached to likes to hold onto the ideals of hope. Daryl had jumped onto his bike, trying to pick off a few with his crossbow in the distance. But they were closing in. You could no longer hear the rumble of his bike any more, the growls and moans of the dead succeeding anything else around you. You were almost out of ammo, the gunshots were attracting more towards you, so you'd relied on your knife and stamina to create a distance. It was no use. You told yourself this, repeating it in your head as you ran round towards the side of the house. Walkers surrounded you, there was no sight of anyone else, just cars driving off. They left, they fucking left. Even Daryl? The two of you hadn't been dating for long, but to leave without you? You prayed to God you'd survive to see Daryl and give him a slap. The barn burned bright in the distance, yet the smell of smoke invaded your nostrils even as you ran away from it. There were no vehicles around for you to drive away in, you had only your legs and your knives in each hand. Determined to survive the night.
Daryl had ended up on the outside of the farm, collecting Carol and driving off. But his mind stayed entirely on you, wondering if you were alive and fighting like you always have, or left to die through his own faults. He'd decided to head towards the highway, knowing people would regroup there, knowing you'd think to go there. Only to find him and Carol were the only ones. Daylight was breaking and still no sign of you. "Fuck!" He shouted, dismounting his bike and kicking the car beside him. He rubbed his face with his hands violently, thinking, believing you were alive. "Knowing Y/N, she is alive. You know what she's done to get here, there's no way she's gone." Carol tried to reassure him, which works more often than not. But where you were concerned, it was like talking to a brick wall. "She would've come 'ere." Daryl yelled, Carol looking around cautiously as sound attracted walkers. It was a small thought in his brain to get back on his bike and go back in search for you, but he knew how stupid that would be. He knew how smart you were, and tough, but he was getting desperate. He hadn't realized how much he cared for you until there was a chance you were gone. How he thought the world and more of you, how he worshipped the ground you walked on. To think it could all be gone, it scared him. "Let's carry on, Daryl," Carol whispered to him, her hand clutching the side of his arm, as a silent means of support. "We'll find them, we'll find her. I'm sure of it." He sulked against a car, arms crossed and mind distant, thinking about where you or anyone could be. "Why don't we leave something here? So they know we were here, hm?" Carol suggested. He didn't want to go. What if you were round the corner? But he knew Carol was right. You'd end up together, the world merged your paths for a reason. The two of them drew arrows on the dusty, dirty cars. This way, trouble. Daryl wrote on the bonnet of a car. He'd climbed back onto his bike once more, Carol behind him, and they sped off. It didn't feel right.
You could see the sun was coming up, you had no clue how long you'd been walking now. You were well away from the farm, the smell of smoke faint. You hadn't encountered any more walkers since then, but you were heading to the highway, hoping someone was waiting there. Otherwise, you were alone and unarmed except your two knives. You'd left the wooded area and come onto a road, the highway you'd all found yourselves on not too long ago. Your heart quickened, you felt hope. The thing that kept your group going, that you had lost when the world turned inside out. Your pace quickened, your walking turned to light jogging turned to full on sprinting. Please, someone be there. Tell me this wasn't all for nothing. Abandoned, rusted cars. Rubbish everywhere, everything was still and quiet. There was that familiar sinking feeling. What a stupid, fickle thing hope is. You felt like crying. You'd lost somewhere that felt stable, homely. And you'd lost the people that made you feel stable and homely. Your feet dragged along the highway, head hung low with little motivation to keep going. I need a break, you thought, leaning against a car and sighing heavily. It wasn't until you looked up to the car opposite you, seeing an arrow drawn into the debris of dirt and dust. You followed it, seeing every car had a collection of arrows pointing ahead. Your eyes caught the bonnet of a gorgeous, blue car. This way, trouble. That was Daryl. It had to have been. He was the only one to call you that. Something would always happen on the supply runs you'd do together, earning you the nickname trouble. And off you went, in the direction of the arrows. Yearning for the man you so desperately wanted to see again.
Daryl and Carol had stopped at gas station. Not to get gas, that was a thing of the past. But to wait. To find resources, to rest, to make a sign alerting you of his presence. He'd grabbed some markers, Carol climbing her way up to the price board outside of the gas station, and ripping out the numbers. She scrawled TROUBLE in massive letters, hope sitting on Daryl's heart at the sight of the word. His trouble, you, were on your way. He just knew it. "Okay, when did you know you liked Y/N?" Carol asked him, the two of them sitting with their backs against the doors, barricading themselves in this small, worn down store. He thought about it, struggling to remember a time he hasn't been die-hard in love with you. Who wouldn't be? You rocked up, covered in blood that wasn't yours, like a total badass. And more than that, you were kind, caring about the group that had welcomed you in, and you just understood him. He didn't need to act differently around you. "Well when she first turned up, I thought she was cool." Daryl remembered, and Carol could see the light in his eyes just talking about you. "But I remember us out lookin' for wood for the fire, and she wouldn't stop talkin'." He laughed, now the thought turned sour. He'd happily listen to you go on for hours about nothing, if it meant you were alive to do so. "And I ended up findin' all the wood, carryin' it all back myself," he added, "but it took me away from the world a little while. And I realized I needed that. I needed her." Carol rested her head on his shoulder, her work was done for the day. Once Daryl was in his little bubble thinking of you, he wouldn't be so gloomy.
Daryl being on a bike during this journey made this so much harder on you. Had he not realized that you'd be walking this distance? You huffed, hoping to find somewhere to stop for the night, and you could see where the trees cut off, a small building sat. The ache in your legs subsided, and you tricked your mind into coping with this journey easier Just gotta get to this tree. Now just gotta get to this tree. It had gotten you to the building, which appeared to be a gas station. And your eyes caught the price board, the world TROUBLE scribbled into it. He was here.
The pair had fallen asleep against the door, but the sound of gravel crunching outside had woken them up. Sleep never came easy, and it never stayed long. Daryl jumped up, reaching for his crossbow and squeezing it, peering out through the door where the glass would've been. And there you were. Finally, his dreams had physically appeared. His prayers had been answered. Your eyelids hung low, that was until you saw the familiar face of your love. He'd pushed open the doors, running over to you and holding you close to his body. Almost blending your bodies together. He just held you, arms smug around your waist, crossbow dropped to his feet. And you were sobbing into his shoulder, hands shaking as they found his face after your embrace. You wanted to make sure this was real, that he was real. His familiar, full of love eyes staring back at yours. You giggled, pressing a few small kisses to his cheeks. And you'd slapped his cheek, not too hard, like you promised yourself you would. You heard Carol laugh from behind him, covering her mouth to suppress the sound of her giggles. "I guess I deserved that." "Why did you leave me?" You choked out, his hands how on either side of your face, taking you in. You were like a tall glass of water in this upturned world. "I'm sorry, trouble," he apologized, and it felt like just the two of you in this world for a moment, the way he looked at you felt isolating, but in a good way, he made you feel like the only one that mattered. "I'm so sorry. I was mad and thought I lost ya." You sighed, just glad to be with him. With people again. "It made me realize I don't ever wanna lose ya." Daryl admitted, and Carol had returned inside, probably to get some sleep and give the two of you some space. "I want ya talkin in my ear forever, borin me to death with whatever ya goin on about." You giggled, just happy to be in his arms, and happy to have Daryl. "Do you know where Rick and everyone else is?" You asked, Daryl's arm around your shoulders as he led you inside. He just shook his head, knowing it was tomorrow's problem. "I'm so happy I found you guys," you mumbled against Daryl's leg. Your head was stationed there tonight, to get some rest for tomorrow's journey. "Get some rest, trouble." He spoke out, smoothing down your hair with his hands, leaning his head back against a wall to get some of his own. Whatever he had to deal with tomorrow, it didn't matter. He had you now, and he wasn't losing you again.
#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon incorrect quotes#twd daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon#daryl fanfiction#daryl x reader#the walking dead daryl dixon#twd daryl dixon#daryl x you#daryl dixion imagine#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon imagine
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Under The Radar
ONESHOT
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After the fall of Hershel's farm and Rick's revelation about the Wildfire virus, the group finds temporary refuge near Elders Mill Road. All the while you share a secret relationship with Daryl that often threatens to get you both caught. But when the stress of survival becomes unbearable, how far would you really go with your teasing to find some much-needed relief?
ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S2E13—ʙᴇꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʏɪɴɢ ꜰɪʀᴇ
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / TEASING / FINGERING / SEMI-PUBLIC / ORGASM CONTROL / ORGASM DENIAL / PRAISE / LANGUAGE
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.232
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Written for @itwasntaphasema because she's the very first person who requested to be on my Tag-List! ♡
MASTERLIST
You were sitting around the fire near the waterfall of the Elders Mill Road, the current makeshift campsite after Hershel's farm was overrun and got destroyed by a walker herd, with the group eating whatever rations you all could find and trying to cling to some normalcy after Rick had revealed that you're all infected. Only Daryl sat apart from the rest of the group, like he did most of the time. He had claimed a spot on the edge of the fire, leaning back against one of the stone walls, his crossbow beside him as always.
You sat near him, your body leaning towards the fire, but your eyes kept drifting to him every now and then. You and Daryl had a secret that the rest of the group didn't know about—a relationship, or rather, so far you were just sleeping with each other, since neither of you had fully acknowledged that it was anything more than just sex.
As the group talked, your mind was only half on the conversations happening around you. You were more focused on Daryl.
Glenn, meanwhile, was talking about the latest supply run, since you were currently stranded and needed supplies, before finding a place that'd finally keep you safe. "We had to fight our way through a whole bunch of walkers," he said, gesticulating wildly around. "I thought that was finally it—the actual end—but we made it out! To be honest, it wouldn't surprise me if those walkers were from the horde, you know?"
Lori nodded. "My god, we're glad that you got back safely."
She was sitting next to Rick, holding Carl close, who was by now already sleeping in her arms. "Just another day in this nightmare. I hope we won't stay here for much longer. The baby—"
You took the opportunity of everyone else talking, moving quickly closer to Daryl as the conversations around you continued. "Hey, Daryl," you whispered. "I’m feeling a little bored right now, you know?"
Daryl stiffened slightly but didn’t turn to look at you. "Yeah? And why’s that my problem now?"
You bit your lower lip, trying to hide a smirk. "I’m not sure. Maybe I just need a little distraction. I really don't know. I mean, with all that stress lately. We barely made it out alive, ain't that right?"
You reached out, letting your fingers slide along his leg. Daryl’s muscles tensed under your touch, and he moved away a bit, his eyes narrowing. "What’re ya doin’, woman?"
Your hand reached out again and traveled even further up his thigh, just close enough to make him feel uncomfortable but not enough to really provoke him. "Just checking out if you’re as bored as I am."
Daryl moved again, his eyes looking toward the rest of the group to make sure no one was paying attention. "Ya should know better than to be messin’ ‘round like this. ’Specially after all the shit that's happened."
You let your fingers on his leg for a while longer before pulling back. "I know. But it’s always kinda hard when you’re so close."
As the conversations around the fire continued, you leaned closer, but he remained stoic, his eyes locked on the fire.
Meanwhile, Glenn looked over to the both of you. "Hey! Are you guys alright over there?"
"Yeah," Daryl grunted, not really listening to the question. "‘S fine."
You couldn’t help but smirk at his more than obvious discomfort and moved even closer, your shoulder pressing against his strong arm. "Come on, Daryl. A little bit of fun never hurt anyone. It would do us both good, don't you think? A little stress relief."
"Shut it. Ain’t the time or place," he answered, pushing you away slightly.
"Are you sure about that? Because it seems like the perfect time and place to me," you pouted back at him.
Daryl snorted and finally turned his head to the side, his eyes meeting yours in a moment where he was sure no one else was looking at neither him nor you. "Yer really fuckin’ pushin’ it right now."
The rest of the group continued to talk, seemingly oblivious. T-Dog, who was chatting with Hershel meanwhile, glanced your way every now and then in hopes that you would join the conversation, but he didn’t seem to notice anything.
You took the chance again when everyone was looking away and let your fingers brush along Daryl's neck this time, gently letting your fingertips slide up towards his earlobe. "Come on! What’s the matter, Daryl? Afraid of a little attention after all the stress?"
"I ain’t afraid of nothin', woman," he answered, gritting his teeth. "Hell, just stop and be normal for once."
You giggled quietly, your lips now brushing against his neck. "Normal? You mean normal, like how we’re pretending there’s nothing between us and how we're simply normal friends? Oh, wait, the rest of the group doesn't even know that we're friends, or… the real reason behind this so-called friendship. What a shame," you teased him further.
Daryl looked around the campfire, making sure everyone was still engaged in their conversations. "Ain't nothin' and ain't the damn point either. Now, shut it."
You leaned in closer to his face, your lips almost touching his. "Or what? You’ll get mad?"
Daryl’s focus crumbled a bit, his breath coming out faster. "Yeah, or I’ll do somethin’ you’ll regret."
You smirked, your hand sliding down to rest on his thigh again, your fingers brushing dangerously close to his growing bulge. "Well, that’s not really a threat, you know… Threatening me with a good time like that. So scary…"
Daryl’s eyes narrowed, and he grabbed your wrist, his grip strong but not painful. "‘M serious. Knock it off."
You pulled back slightly, putting your hands up innocently. "Okay, okay. I’ll behave. For now…"
Daryl’s expression remained annoyed, his eyes looking back to the fire as if trying to distract himself.
But the uncomfortable tension between you and him only grew as the time went by. Every little touch of your hand against his, your playful eye contact—simply everything increased the tension between you.
T-Dog, who had been looking around while talking to Hershel, finally spoke up as well. "Everything alright?"
Daryl shot him a glare, clearly frustrated. "Just fine! Said it already."
"Oh, we’re just having a little discussion. Don't worry," you smiled sweetly before leaning closer again. "You know, I can’t help but wonder if you’re really as tough as you pretend to be."
"What the hell are ya playin’ at?" Daryl asked and shot you a quick glance.
You tilted your head, your lips brushing against his jaw. "Just wanting to see how much a certain tough guy can actually handle."
He shivered uncomfortably, his eyes moving around to make sure the rest of the group was still talking with each other. Carol had fallen asleep next to Beth, and Glenn and Maggie were deep in discussion about their next supply run.
You took your chance, and your hand slid up Daryl’s thigh once more, this time brushing against the growing bulge in his pants on purpose. "I can see that you want this just as much," you whispered.
Daryl’s breath hitched, and he gulped. "Ya need to stop this shit."
You moved closer, your lips kissing his ear. "Or what? You’ll do something about it?"
"Yeah, or I’ll make ya regret it," he answered, moving his knees a bit more to his chest.
Your fingers still moved teasingly over the bulge in his pants before pulling back. "Come on, Daryl. Don’t be so boring."
Daryl’s patience was slowly breaking, and he growled at you. "Yer pushin’ it. This ain’t the time or place for ya damn games. Told ya that already. Can't ya just listen?"
You smirked at him, leaning in closer, your lips brushing against his neck again. "But that’s what makes it exciting, doesn’t it? Come on, just a quick stress relief."
His control finally snapped, and he grabbed your wrist roughly, his voice low and angry. "Goddammit, stop this bullshit, woman!"
You tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. "Why? Are you afraid of what’ll happen if you let go and show me what you can do, right here and right now?"
His eyes darkened, and he pulled you closer, his voice rough and harsh. "Ya wanna play dirty? Fine. But don’t think I won’t make ya pay for it."
Meanwhile, Rick glanced over too, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the whispering between you and Daryl. "Everything alright over there?"
Daryl smirked annoyed, his grip still tight around your wrist. "Goddamnit, can ya'll stop askin'? 'S all fine!"
Rick’s eyes remained for a moment longer on the both of you before he turned back to keep a watchful eye on the surroundings. As the night wore on, more of the group began to drift off to sleep. Maggie fell asleep by now as well, snoring quietly, just like most of them, while cuddling up to Glenn. The remaining watchmen, including him and Rick, were still alert, their eyes scanning the woods and the street beyond the light of the campfire.
Unable to hold back, you took advantage of the situation once more, teasing Daryl with your touch. "Come on, Daryl. I know you want this."
His eyes narrowed. "Yer really fuckin’ pushin’ it." He shoved you back slightly, his voice rising a little in frustration. "The hell is wrong with ya? Can’t ya see that yer makin’ a goddamn scene?"
You looked around, realizing that the remaining people on watch were still close enough to notice most of what was happening around the camp. You lowered your voice, trying to ease the situation for him. "I’m just trying to have a little fun. You’re the one making it difficult, not me."
Daryl’s expression was clearly angry by now, but there was also something else—something that almost looked like desperation. He reached out and grabbed you by the shoulders, his grip tight. "Ya think this is a game? Yer just makin’ shit worse for both of us, woman."
"I’m not trying to make things worse. I just want you," you answered him quietly, looking into his eyes.
"Yer really testin’ my damn patience." Without waiting for a response, Daryl pulled you roughly towards the edge of the light that came from the campfire, away from the eyes of the group.
"Hey! Where are we going? What are you doing? It's not safe to go away from the fire just like that! Daryl?" You asked, but Daryl didn’t answer immediately.
He dragged you behind one of the other remaining stone walls, away from the light of the fire but still within earshot of the camp. His grip on your arm was almost painful by now, and he shoved you against the side of the wall before he leaned in. "Ya wanna play dirty? Fine. Let’s see how ya can handle it."
You gasped as Daryl’s strong hands grabbed your face and as his lips crashed down on yours with a hunger that made your head spin. His hands slid down your sides, pulling you roughly against him, his body pressing against yours with force, and you could feel his hard cock pressing against you through his pants.
His fingers moved lower, finding their way to your inner thighs and guiding you to spread your legs just enough for him to get what he wanted. The sudden contact with your soaked panties made you flinch and moan against his mouth, your hips bucking into his touch and grinding against his hand, making you open your pants as fast as possible.
"Yer always so fuckin’ needy," he growled against your lips. "Can’t even keep yer hands off me for one damn second. Can’t resist the way I make ya feel."
"Oh, fuck!" You moaned again into the kiss, your hips instinctively arching towards his touch again as his fingers pressed against your clit through the fabric. "Daryl, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with need.
He pulled back slightly, his lips just inches from yours as his mouth curled into a smirk. "Please what?" He demanded. "Ya want me to fuck ya right here, right now? To give ya what yer beggin’ for?"
The way he spoke, the way he teased and controlled you, made you whimper in desperation.
He leaned in closer. "Or do ya need me to make ya beg a little more? To make ya show me just how much ya need me?"
Daryl’s expression hardened as he felt how you squirmed against him. He quickly reached out for your panties, pushing them aside, and without any hesitation, his fingers slid inside you, moving with an aggression that took your breath away.
You gasped, biting down on your lower lip to stifle a loud moan as his fingers worked inside of you ever so roughly. "Keep it quiet," he ordered harshly, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying an unmistakable authority. "Don’t wanna wake up the whole damn group."
You nodded, struggling to keep quiet as your body responded to his every touch. His fingers moved inside you, each thrust deeper than the last. His thumb found your clit, rubbing against it in a way that made you see stars, and his free hand gripped your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh to hold you steady.
"Daryl," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Please…"
Please… Please… Please, what?" He smirked, slowing his movements to drive you wild. "Ya want me to stop? Make ya wait?"
"No," you gasped in desperation. "Don’t stop! God, don’t stop, please!"
"That’s what I thought." He increased the pressure on your clit, his thumb moving in slow circles that made you tremble, while his fingers curled themselves inside your pussy.
Your hands reached for his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried your best not to fall as he made you a trembling, desperate mess.
"Yer not cummin’ yet. Not until I say so," he whispered as he felt how close you were, and you nodded frantically.
Daryl continued to tease you, driving you to the edge again and again, only to pull back at the last moment. "Good girl," he murmured. "Ya don’t get to cum until I let ya."
You nodded again, even though your body was shaking with the effort to hold back and obey his every command.
"Fuck, Daryl," you pleaded in a whisper. "Please, please, just."
He smirked, holding you close still. "Not yet," he growled, his fingers not slowing down.
Your hips bucked against his hand, but he continued with his teasing. "Ya really like that, don’t ya? Ya’ve been teasin’ me, and now look at ya. So fuckin’ desperate for me."
You nodded, unable to form words, your hands gripping and scratching his shoulders. It was becoming more and more difficult to control your moans, each thrust of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge.
"Hell. Yer such a needy little slut," he growled, teasing you further. "Can’t ever get enough, can ya?"
You couldn’t answer him anymore. Your body was trembling, your breathing ragged as you fought to hold back your cries. His mouth was now trailing down your neck, his teeth biting your flesh and sucking on it until you were panting with need.
"Look at ya," he murmured against your skin as he left his marks. "So desperate. So fuckin' wet. So ready to cum for me."
His free hand slid up your body, grabbing your breast and squeezing it roughly, his thumb flicking over your hardened nipple. "Daryl, please," you begged again, your voice a broken whisper. "I'm already so close! Fuck! I need to cum. Please!"
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned in close, his lips kissing and biting your cheek as he whispered, "Cum for me, darlin'. Now…"
The command was your undoing. You obeyed, and your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, but Daryl’s fingers continued to move inside you as you clenched around him, prolonging your orgasm until you were a trembling, breathless mess in his arm.
He held you close, and when you finally came down, your body still shivering, he pulled you into a rough kiss. "Such a good girl," he mumbled against your lips. "Ya did so good for me; keepin' quiet like that."
You nodded weakly, your mind still spinning from your orgasm as Daryl withdrew his fingers from you.
"Ya better be glad I ain’t lettin’ this shit go any further. 'Cause I wouldn't hold back anymore, ya know," he growled, and you nodded, your face flushed red and your body still trembling.
"I understand, I do. I just… needed you after what has happened at the farm," you answered him, adjusting your clothes.
"Ya got what ya wanted," he said. "Now keep yer damn hands to yerself before I lose my shit completely and fuck ya in front of everyone and take ya how I wanna take ya."
The warning was clear, but you could still see the struggle in his eyes to not take you right there in front of everyone else.
"Just remember," he continued, his voice sounding softer now. "Ain’t one for teasin’. Next time ya need me, ya better come to me straight; no damn games."
"I will. I promise," you nodded quickly, trying to steady yourself. "Let’s get back before someone notices…"
He nodded and walked in front of you as you followed him back towards the campfire, seeing the remaining members of the group settling down for the night. Daryl kept looking around as you approached, his eyes scanning the area.
As you neared the campfire, Rick suddenly appeared, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Where the hell have you two been?"
You and Daryl exchanged a quick glance, and you stepped forward, trying to sound casual. "I, well… I needed to use the bathroom. Daryl was just keeping an eye out."
Rick raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between you and Daryl. "Really? Didn’t think we had a bathroom around here."
"She just needed to take a piss, so what?" Daryl jumped in. "Figured it was better to keep an eye on her than let her wander off alone."
Rick’s expression was still skeptical, but he seemed to accept the explanation for now. "Alright. Just don’t make a habit of it. Especially not now. Not until we’ve found a safe place to stay."
With a nod, you and Daryl made your way back to your spots by the fire. The both of you sat down carefully, with you trying to ignore wetness that was still present between your legs. You watched as Daryl’s eyes moved to his own fingers, still coated with a bit of your juices. Without breaking eye contact with you, he slowly brought his hand up to his mouth, and his tongue slid out, moving slowly over his fingers as he licked them off once more. It was both humiliating and intensely erotic, making you shiver involuntarily.
Daryl leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on yours. "Remember," he said quietly, "this doesn’t mean ya get to act like a damn tease every fuckin’ time."
You nodded and grinned back at him. "Got it," you answered him, "but maybe, just maybe I should tease you more often every now and then."
TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema
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