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gutsby · 8 months

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Best Served Cold

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Warning: NSFW. Attempted SA. Unprotected p-in-v. I don’t condone cheating (unless it’s on abusers lol). Semi-public sex and getting caught doing it in a tent 🫣 Based on this kickass idea from @dilfsandmartinis (I'm so sorry it took this long for me to post the story) !! 💓

Your man returned to your tent that night like he did most others: slick with sweat and too tired for sex. At least not again, not with you. He would undoubtedly claim to have been checking the perimeter, standing guard like a good leader should, but any blind man in that quarry camp could’ve seen he was just boning Lori.

A lot.

You were really more offended that he thought you stupid enough to abide by his lies than the fact he was fucking someone else. That part wasn’t new—his dick never knew how to stay in one hole longer than a month or two—but in an apocalypse? With his newly-deceased best friend’s widow? That was low, even for Shane.

Which was why you felt no compunction yourself as you slipped quietly from your tent toward the water’s edge that night, pink vibrator clutched tightly in hand.

Useful little thing that it was, a six-setting suction device that worked wonders on your clit, even underwater. You figured since Shane couldn’t be bothered with you or your sexual pleasure so long as the former Mrs. Grimes was occupying his time, you’d make use of this sex toy instead and start really leaning into the “self care” you’d been craving for so long.

The water was warm all the way up to your chest, and the air around you tepid. You moved around, treaded in place, and finally reached comfortable bearings a couple yards from shore. You relished the solitude and silence.

The moment you felt the toy come to life in your hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Exhaling as you brought the tip close to your center.

“Shit.” Even the gentlest setting too harsh on your clit, you nipped your lower lip and bit back a whimper.

You swirled it lightly on your inner thigh, tried painstakingly as ever to acclimate yourself to the buzz of the rubber, but damn were you sensitive. Almost too tender to be touched, too ripe with excitement and aching for the feel of something on you, or in you, or just barely skimming the surface of your skin underwater.

A low moan escaped your lips the second the head drifted back to your clit. Your toes curled into rough, rocky terrain underfoot, and your breaths started to quicken. You made a gentle motion with your hips—a sweet, semi-circular thing you’d been doing over Shane’s lower half as long as you could remember—begging for more friction, needing more of that mechanical hum.

You pressed the button for a higher setting. The peaks of your pleasure soared to new heights.

You were helpless to the trembling of your knees and felt immensely grateful for the water’s aid in keeping you straight. You pressed the rounded tip of the toy even tighter to your core and didn’t heed a thing around you as you sighed several expletives under your breath. A jolt of bliss washed over your body.

Your eyes had just started to close in the first throes of that wild sensation, when a new sound startled you.

“Ya done pissin’ or what?”

You shot a look toward the shore and saw a slightly less-than cheery individual standing at the edge of it, the toes of his boots grazing the incoming waves.

You froze in place. You hardly knew what to say.

“Ain’t safe fer you out here ‘n you know it. Come on.” Daryl beckoned you with one hand and started to turn.

At what point was it appropriate to tell him you were naked?

You thought he could surmise from the fact you were neck-deep in the water and refusing to move that maybe something more was keeping you in. Daryl seemed clueless, however.

“I ain’t got all night, kid,” he snorted, “’f you don’t hurry, Shane an’ the rest of ‘em’ll be out and— ah.”

Ah.

At the last, he stepped on a pile of clothes folded neatly on the shoreline nearby, undergarments and all.

So this wasn’t a midnight swim or a late night piss at all, but a full-blown skinny dip. He should have known you weren’t the bikini type.

Awkwardly, almost begrudgingly, Daryl gathered what clothes of yours he could and chucked them closer to the lake. Then he turned on his heels and stalked up the beach without another word—fuming, it seemed to you. Once averted, though, Daryl’s face betrayed a look of horror. Like a parent who’d just stumbled upon a box of condoms in their daughter’s sock drawer after swearing she was still a virgin.

In the few short weeks since you’d been thrown together in this mess, Daryl had practically taken to you like family. He hated Shane ‘Shit-for-Brains’ Walsh most days, it was true, but the fact that you were you, and times were tough, and nothing seemed to occupy Daryl’s mind quite like the thought of keeping you safe, that he had to keep you close at all times. He just hadn’t imagined your proximity would turn this intimate so suddenly.

“Keep up,” he spoke more sharply than usual. Didn’t even wait for you to dry and dress completely before snagging your hand in his.

You glanced at your taut, hardened nipples poking up through the damp material of your tank top and suddenly wished you’d brought a towel. Or a bra. Your shorts, too, clung to your ass like a second skin and made you feel extra bare before Daryl’s eyes—even if he hadn’t spared a look at you once as you’d traipsed behind him through the woods.

When you tripped, he held you up; when you nearly ate shit over several rocky spots, he carried you over them. His eyes never strayed toward your body, though.

Once you’d made it to the clearing where your group had made camp, Daryl lowered you to the ground and still couldn’t find it within himself to look your way. You shuffled uncomfortably on your feet, now standing inches away from the tent you shared with Shane.

“Thanks for...that,” you said, flatly.

Daryl managed a curt nod.

Before you turned in, you decided to venture a look at Daryl’s chest, and you felt an influx of embarrassment. The taupe-colored cutoff he wore as a shirt was soaked with water. Instinctively, you brushed your fingers over the stain—as if touching it might dry the fabric, or else mask your humiliation at being the cause. You tried not to evince a hint of surprise at how sturdy he felt.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Daryl.”

You hadn’t thought any man was capable of looking more afflicted than Daryl did before, but somehow, incredibly, he appeared even more ill at ease when you touched him. You immediately retracted your hand.

“’S’okay,” he managed. He would’ve given anything not to be where he was, or who he was, at that moment.

Just when another apology leapt to your tongue—feeling even worse that you might’ve crossed a physical boundary you shouldn’t have—a twig snapped close-by.

You and Daryl jumped in your skin. You turned toward the source of the sound.

Shane was tugging his pants into place, pulling the zip up in haphazard fashion as he marched out of the woods.

He’d either been blowing Lori’s back out (again) or off to take a piss in the bushes. By the looks of his dazed and drowsy expression, you guessed it was the latter.

“Got a nice rack, doesn’t she?” Shane observed, careless as ever.

He walked past the two of you and unzipped the tent.

“I was jus—” Daryl started.

“Don’t care,” Shane cut in, “Goodnight.”

You were amazed at the level of nonchalance your fiancé exhibited. On finding you soaked to the bone and touching another man in the middle of the night, the old Shane probably would’ve laid Daryl flat on his ass.

But overprotective, possessive Shane was no more.

Before disappearing into the tent, Shane reached for your elbow. You barely got another glimpse at Daryl as you were ushered inside.

The tent was re-zipped in an instant, and you assumed Daryl would be quick to leave the scene, too.

You turned and saw Shane fumbling to unscrew the lid of his canteen. Taking several big gulps before re-fastening the top, tossing the jug to the side, and letting out a sigh.

“You get a look at the hard-on he had?” Shane chuckled.

You almost choked on your spit.

“What?”

“Pitched a tent in his pants bigger’n this,” he returned, gesturing to the polyester enclosure overhead. Then he got back to his feet, walked over to you, and kept going, in spite of your perplexed expression, “He must really wanna fuck you.”

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were more baffled by Shane’s serene demeanor or the fact that you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s boner. You decided to overlook the erection for the time being.

“And you don’t...care if he did?” Instantly chiding yourself for the twinge of indignation in your tone.

“Nuh-uh,” Shane said. His hands came to rest comfortably on your hips, and he seemed to be hearing your words without really comprehending what you meant. As usual.

If he picked up on the irritation in your voice, he didn’t show it. He just rolled the denim of your shorts between his fingers and pulled you closer.

“This,” he hummed, fingers sinking between your legs, “is not for him.”

And Shane was community dick. Made sense.

You didn’t attempt to conceal your annoyance this time as you rolled your eyes and pushed his hands away.

“Well maybe if Daryl asked nicely…” you trailed off, starting toward the bed.

Shane stopped you before you could. He took a firmer hold of your sides and showed the first real hint of jealousy in his eyes. You were almost glad to see it.

“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. Then, snaking his touch back down your legs—with the fabric of your shorts fisted in his hands this time—he continued amidst your quiet protests.

You were gripping his wrists, trying to keep them from moving any further. But Shane was insistent.

“He wouldn’t get to ask nicely, because I’d blow his fucking brains out before he ever got the—”

“Shane.” You were actively shoving his hands off now. You didn’t mind this envious side coming back to the surface, but you would not, under any circumstance, be Shane’s sloppy seconds the same hour he’d fucked Lori.

“No. You— you smell like—” you cut yourself off before the woman’s name could leave your lips.

“Like what?” Shane snapped. Suddenly intrigued to hear what you had to say.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but when you couldn’t, and when he pressed you again, you sputtered some nonsense about his drinking—how he reeked of booze, not Rick’s wife.

“Thought you liked it when I fucked you drunk,” Shane grinned, voice dripping with condescension, “Said it gave me stamina.”

You’d said no such thing. You groaned lightly as Shane managed to pull your panties and shorts, together, to your ankles. When he started to take them off at your feet, he hardly seemed to notice your nails dig in his shoulders, silently begging him to stop.

“Think I should invite Daryl back over? Let him watch me fuck you stupid?” Shane’s mouth was hovering close to your center, hot breaths fanning over your lower half.

In any other situation, you would’ve craved him here: on his knees, ready to suck and lick and dick you down like he always used to do. But things were different now, you had to remind yourself. Apart from the walking dead invading your world, there was no Rick in the picture, no semblance of platonic feelings between his widow and your fiancé—you felt physically sick at the thought of Shane touching you now. You tried to stand the instant he threw you on the bed.

“Shane, I don’t wanna—”

“Fuck? Yeah, I figured,” Shane shrugged as he tried to peel your shirt off your body.

“Then quit,” you hissed. You were starting to fear the fabric might tear if you held on any tighter.

When it seemed evident you weren’t going to give in on the top, Shane let go and turned to his pants instead. Pinning you down with one hand, he unbuckled his belt as you whimpered and pleaded that he stop. The sounds only made the mound in his pants more pronounced.

The two of you had dabbled in CNC before, but this was not that. No safeword, no fallback, no trace of consent between you, and to be frank, you were starting to get scared. The second Shane freed his cock from his boxers, you felt a surge of panic rise to your chest.

“Fuck— STOP!” Without thinking, you jerked your knee.

You hadn’t meant to hit his balls so hard. But you did. And he folded in half, seizing with pain, while you took that as your chance to slide off the bed, slip on your panties—and hightail it the fuck out of there.

Shane’s cries pierced the night air like a blade through rotted flesh. You stumbled, half-blind in the dark, and blazed a reckless path through the tents all around you. Weaving in and out of neighboring spaces, searching desperately for any lone, dim glow of a lantern to tell you someone was awake to hear your pleas if needed. But sadly, no tent was alight but yours, and the entrance to that was presently being torn open once more as Shane staggered out there himself.

“Y/N!” he bellowed.

In your haste, you’d tripped over Glenn’s knapsack. You scraped your knee, scrambled back to your feet, and tried with everything in you not to make a sound as you retreated further from Shane’s voice.

You probably looked feral, weaving in and out of tents with your knee leaking blood and your pupils grown wide with fear. You scampered fast across the rocky campgrounds and made a beeline for the woods.

Until Shane’s footsteps fell heavy mere feet away.

Quickly changing course, you dove for the nearest tent and ripped it open. When you slipped inside, zipped it up, and went crab-walking backward like a panic-stricken animal, you hardly saw much of anything else.

Had your pulse not been pounding in your ears and your gaze not glued to the front of the tent, you likely would’ve gotten a pretty good laugh at the sight behind you.

At the very least, a chuckle or a smile or a slightly sheepish blush would’ve been supplied in a second, seeing someone wide-eyed and holding his cock in a death grip just inches from your rear.

You’d unwittingly scrambled into the tent of a man who’d just been beating his dick off furiously to the thought of you—and there you were, sitting pretty in pure, unadulterated fear for the sight of your fiancé any second now. When you turned your head, your hand flew to your mouth.

“Dar— oh!”

Like before, your heads snapped in the direction of a new sound, quick to sense that it was Shane, and this time, you went crawling over to the archer without a second thought. Hardly noticing his pants were down, you leapt into his lap.

“Y/N—” Shane hissed as he tripped over something outside. You heard a clatter and a bang, the sound of a few curse words sputtered in vain, and a groan. Daryl’s arms snaked around your sides and pulled you closer.

“What’ve ya gone and done this time?” he whispered.

“Told him no,” you murmured back.

You pretended not to feel the singe of Daryl’s gaze boring straight through the side of your head. Then a little lower, to your near-bare lower half and shaking legs. It didn’t take long for him to piece together what had happened.

“Y/N,” Daryl started, far louder than you could bear. You shushed him swiftly, ignoring the flare of anger in his eyes that told you he was currently conjuring up fifty different ways to kill Shane and just aching to act on it.

“Don’t. Please,” you said.

“Did he—”

“No. I...kneed him in the balls before he got the chance.”

“Oh.”

Shane was pacing outside, like he knew you were somewhere close. He called your name every now and then, drew near enough to send you rigid with fear. Then Daryl would hold you tight, stroke your hair, or else just graze his lips on your shoulder to let you know he was there, and eventually, the fright would subside. You nestled yourself into that touch and felt something far kinder than fear for the first time in a long time.

You felt aroused.

Ever more inspired by the sound of Shane stewing, fuming outside within earshot and the nudge of Daryl’s member against your barely-clothed core. Well…you were tempted, to say the least. You just weren’t sure if Daryl would be on board for being your lightning-quick rebound fuck of the night.

You sighed as his hips moved gently against your own.

“You think maybe—” you started.

“Yeah?”

“—you might…tell me what you were doing before I barged in here?”

Even in the dark, you could sense a blush creeping up his neck. You loved to see a man like Daryl flustered.

“Oh, uh, that?” he said in half a chuckle. Glancing down at his groin and going back and forth between two thoughts in his mind, most likely. Tell you the truth or come up with a half-assed lie on the spot.

“Just…jerking off to you.”

He never had been any good at a bluff.

Your face visibly brightened in the dim glow of the tent. You tried not to let your elation get too far ahead of you, though, lest your voice raise above a whisper and draw Shane’s attention.

“Yeah? What about?”

Daryl never thought it possible for a woman’s enthusiasm in a question to turn him on, but yours did. He looked to your lips and swallowed, suddenly at a loss for how to answer.

“I…well…”

“You’re fucking dead to me, Y/N. If you don’t—”

Your fiancé’s voice was as close, and as terrifying, as it had ever been. You eased Daryl onto his back.

“Were you thinking of this?” you teased.

You made that soft semi-circular motion with your hips and watched a brand new face contort with pleasure. The footsteps outside hardly registered in your mind any longer, as your attention was singly focused on Daryl.

He fought a groan in his throat as you grazed your slick heat over his length.

You coated him with your arousal quicker than even you had expected. You knew you were turned on, but never had it been like that, where you were damn near dripping sweet nectar all over a man’s cock. You let a little whine leave your lips.

You couldn’t help it; your cunt rocked back and forth over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and made obscene sounds as you did. The archer’s hands found your hips and gently guided you up and down as his own moans struggled to break loose.

You could’ve stayed like that forever, you figured—if you hadn’t been so fucking wet that the head of his cock slipped inside of your heat the second you and Daryl bucked your hips together. An inch was quick to stretch to seven before you could think or blink or do anything else but groan in pleasure, and suddenly, he was bottoming out inside you.

“Fuck!” Daryl hissed.

“Daryl!”

“Daryl?”

Fucking Shane, of all voices you didn’t want to hear in that moment. Fortunately, he’d heard Daryl’s voice alone and not the sound of your moan, calling his name at the same time, for entirely different reasons, it seemed.

Daryl gritted his teeth as you bounced on his cock,

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for Y/N. You seen her, brother?”

Seen you, felt you, fucked you, yeah—he had.

Daryl closed his eyes and tried not to blow his load on the spot as you squeezed around him.

“No— no, I haven’t. Not since earlier,” he grunted.

“You sure?” Shane pressed, dissatisfied, “I heard her running around this way.”

You braced your knees against the ground and rode the man beneath you even harder, taking every ounce of resentment you felt toward Shane out on Daryl’s cock. Fuck if revenge sex didn’t feel nice when the object of your ire was standing right outside the tent.

You almost wanted to moan, wanted to whimper, but were quick to think better of it the longer you spent moving up and down his length. Seeing shades of lust in his eyes like never before, you just couldn’t bear the thought of having to pry yourself off any time soon.

Daryl sank his fingers into your thighs and sighed, leaving ten perfect crescents in their wake.

“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he murmured.

“Could ya— could you come outside and help me look?”

‘Come the fuck on’ seemed to be the silent, shared sentiment between you and Daryl as your bodies writhed fast against each other and your highs came close into view. You braced your hands against his chest and begged him not to answer with your eyes, but you also knew Daryl couldn’t not say something to him, either.

“I…I’m sure she’s fine.” Daryl tried, weakly.

He flipped you over so you were flat on your back, hands careful not to make much noise or cause you discomfort as he did. Cock never leaving your wet, greedy hole, he found it easier than ever to resume the pace you’d made above him—now pounding you quietly into his sleeping pad.

You gripped his back and, simultaneously, bit down on his shoulder to keep from letting out a shriek when he grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you. Tried not to whine when he hit it again. And again. And again.

Shane was growing impatient. Hovered close to the front of the tent so you could see the outline of his shadow.

“You got something better to do, Dixon?” he snapped.

Yeah, fuck your fiancée, Daryl thought with a smirk. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him even deeper.

That light, airy feeling preceding ecstasy was close at hand. You wanted to give in—let the levee break and just relish the sweet sensation quick to follow—but you knew you couldn’t. Knew yourself too well to be a screamer not to hold on a little longer, until Shane had left.

But the way Daryl’s cock was pumping in and out of you at present made it hard, to say the least.

“Just…tired, ‘s’all,” Daryl groaned close to your ear.

“Tired from what?!” Shane jeered, “Wrist been hurtin’ from how hard you’ve been jerkin’ it to Y/N, huh?”

You almost burst out laughing. Daryl quickly cupped your mouth. Fucked you harder to shut you up.

And shut up you did; but not for long, you feared. The faster he pounded you, the more that coil in your stomach came to swell, and soon enough you might—

“Eat shit, Walsh.”

“Just help me out. Please.”

Daryl shook his head and fucked you harder, much to your chagrin. You didn’t want him to stop, but you needed him to, in truth, or that swollen thing inside of you just might get the better of you and burst. You pressed your hands to his chest and tried to whimper something softly, but Daryl just hushed you with his hand to your mouth and kept on at that breakneck pace. Your eyes rolled back, your legs started to shake, and if Daryl hadn’t had to tear his attention away to say something to Shane, he might have seen how close you were to blowing your cover…before it was too late.

With one more stroke inside your wet, sensitive hole, you felt a cord inside you snap and a flurry of wild, unbridled bliss take over, stronger than you’d felt in ages.

A shriek desperate to escape your throat, your teeth raked down Daryl’s flesh with the force of it, and, instinctively, the man yanked his hand away and yelped.

You hated to do it, but the feeling was just too good. Your lips parted to release one of the most lewd and obscene sex screams of your life—with Daryl’s name following over and over as you came.

Daryl’s eyes grew to half the size of his face, it seemed. Stilling inside you, feeling your sweet, hot juices flow down him in waves, he sat there and couldn’t quite decide if he was more turned on or terrified.

When Shane tore through the fabric of the tent and charged inside, he figured it out pretty quickly, though.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #smut #shane walsh #shane walsh smut

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heathermason6060 · 1 month

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Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Missing Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: Smut, degradation, minor alcohol consumption, unprotected p in v, NO use of (Y/N)

Summary: You and Daryl distract each other from missing Merle.

Notes: Wanted to try the idea of Daryl thinking he wants super rough sex, but he finds out he doesn't really like it that much when you indulge in it. GIF found from Pinterest from user vallie

Taking a hot shower was something you used to take for granted. But after arriving at the CDC and having the chance to not only clean, but sanitize yourself, you made every second count. You even fucking shaved.

When you heard Jenner would also be serving dinner, you could've thrown up in excitement.

“C'mon, quit actin’ like a pussy and drink.”

You rolled your eyes at the redneck's words, but shrugged and waved him forward anyway. He grinned in success and filled a cup with red wine, nearly spilling it on your chest with the way he shoved it towards you.

The shift in the atmosphere the last few hours had been remarkable. Not too long ago you were in the first stages of accepting your possible demise, standing behind Shane and Daryl as they fought to get Rick away from the doors. Now here you sat between Carol and Daryl, drinking some of the best wine you'd ever tasted, enough food on your plate to fill your stomach the way it was meant to be.

You barely heard Daryl whisper beside you over the happy chatter of your group. “Watch, he's gonna turn all red, Koreans all got an allergy to alcohol.”

You couldn't help but break into a grin at that, shaking your head in amusement. He looked too excited for you to correct him so you just chuckled, and tried not to fall from your chair when he playfully elbowed you in your side.

The sight of Lori and Shane in the little library foiled your plans to read before bed. You only watched for a second, it looked like they were arguing, trying to keep their voices down despite their frustration.

You rolled your eyes and turned on your heels, annoyed you'd have to settle on something in the rec room.

As soon as you turned the corner to walk down the hall, you bumped into a chest so hard you lost your balance. Their hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, and when you heard that teasing southern accent you immediately felt your mood lifting.

“That wine make you blind? You Korean too?” He snickered as he helped you right yourself.

It was incredibly refreshing to see Daryl in that light. He was in a great mood, not drunk but buzzed enough to keep a grin on his face.

“Fucking Shane and Lori's in there.” You grumbled playfully, crossing your arms in exaggerated annoyance.

“Huh, what're they doin’?” His voice lowered to a nosey whisper and he nudged you back to peek around the corner. He immediately pulled back, bumping into you again, a look of disgust on his face. “Fuckin’ white trash. Actin’ like Rick ain't right down the hall.”

That had you turning into a nosey busybody and you went to see what he was talking about, but he had already nudged your shoulder in the other direction to the bedroom halls.

“C'mon, let's go do somethin’.” He didn't wait for an answer as he continued using his body to guide you down the hallway, reminding you of a sheepdog, which amused you to no end.

“Like what?” You smirked as he shouldered you into one of the rec rooms. There were a few loveseats, bean bag chairs, a long couch and endless shelves of things. Board games, card games, sketch books and those really expensive high quality colored pencils, markers, you name it. You could spend the rest of your life in this room and die happy.

“Hell, I don't know.” He shrugged and went to look through the shelves. You watched him in the doorway, your lip tightening at the side when you realized he was desperate to take his mind off Merle. Shit, you were too. You missed the fuck out of Merle Dixon. You'd grown extremely close to him, he wordlessly accepted your vulnerability of being the black sheep and Daryl related to it. They treated you like some weird adopted family member that one playfully flirted with and the other jerked off to.

“Wanna play uno? I'm suspiciously good at it.” You finally shut the door and walked over to him with crossed arms, aware of the way he tensed when you got closer.

“Uno? The fuck? Hell no.” He scoffed and aggressively flipped through the games on the shelf. “This is like some fucked up retirement center.”

“What'd you expect? An Xbox full of two player games?” You watched as he pretended to read the back of a card game box.

“Psh. I don't know. Let's go fuck with Glenn -”

You grabbed his wrist before he could rush past you and laughed. “Leave the poor kid alone. He's gonna be so fucking sick tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I guess. Threw up on my couch.” He muttered, remembering the way he'd had to drag Glenn to the couch in his temporary bedroom.

“Course he did. You kept pouring wine down the kids' throat.”

You had a few minutes of friendly banter, suggested uno again, he suggested strip poker, you suggested skipping the poker, and soon you were grinding against his knee behind some of the book shelves.

“I want it dirty. Want it raw.” He huffed as he feverishly unbuckled his belt. “F-fuck, you're so hot.”

You grinned and leaned in to bite his bottom lip, earning a delicious whimper from him. You dug your teeth down harder and pulled back, feeling his dick twitch obscenely against your hip.

“Want it dirty, yeah?” You drawled and kissed down his neck, switching between biting and biting hard.

“Yeah.” He breathed and fucked his hand, clutching onto your hair with his other. “You think,” he faltered as you bit down on his nipple, his words spilling into various curses and slang you couldn't understand. “Shhh-fuck” His voice cracked in a way that was absolutely fucking adorable to you. “Y’think, you could, on top-”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You made your way back up to his neck, reaching to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but he stopped you. You didn't question it, you just sat him down on one of the loveseats and climbed in his lap.

You looked over your shoulder at the door, even though it was shut anyone could just walk in, but Daryl grabbed your chin and forced you back against his mouth.

You fucking loved the way he kissed. It was so hot and sloppy, his tongue diving everywhere in your mouth, licking every spot he could reach. When you pulled back to breathe, the skin around your lips felt wet, just another thing to make your pussy wetter. Daryl Dixon being so messy and dirty drove you insane.

“I like the way you kiss me,” you slurred, your hands sliding up your pajama shirt to grope your own breasts. “Who would've thought you were such a needy whore.”

“Can you blame me, woman? Shit.” He thrusted up against you as he admired your form over him, your lips parted and your hair in your face, you looked hotter than every single pornstar he'd ever seen. He came harder to you than Sasha Grey.

You maneuvered out of your pajama pants and slipped back in his lap, sliding your pussy against his throbbing cock.

“Fuckin’ goddamnit.” He sputtered and grabbed hold of your hips for dear life. He rolled up in sync with you, nearly cumming when he saw the way his head would push through your folds each time your hips slid back.

It was easier to get him inside you with you on top, you didn't need to worry about him slamming into you like last time. You took your time, enjoying the way he curled his upper lip in frustration, his eyes locked on the way his dick disappeared up inside you.

“Fuck.” You drew your word out as you finally sat down on him, his dick sticking you like a skewer.

You opened your eyes when you felt him grabbing your right wrist. He brought it up to his throat with no hesitation, a new boldness filling him that you didn't expect.

You scoffed and laughed, the sound making his hips jerk roughly up into you. You obliged though, grabbing hold of his thick throat and squeezing.

The situation you found yourself in was something you could easily get used to. You leaned back, keeping yourself upright with your grip on his neck. You rolled your hips in a way that served you, using Daryl's dick to get off. The way you fucked him was completely foreign to him, he'd never seen anything like this in the tapes he'd steal from Merle.

You moaned when he bucked into you, and you had to take a moment to steady yourself. You released his neck and grabbed his chin, your thumb slipping between his teeth, holding him like a hooked fish. He looked up at you through his lashes and bit down gently, his hips rolling slower now.

“You're a fucking mess.” You hissed with a smirk, looking down at your work proudly. Now he was the one who needed to be in a filthy magazine. His cheeks and lips red, his eyes half lidded and dark, his teeth bared and biting on your thumb. He was sweating like crazy and you were impressed he hadn't come yet, must've been the wine. “God I missed your dick.”

You weren't sure how it happened but soon you were pressed against the wall, your thighs wrapped around his back and his dick rearranging your insides. You couldn't moan even if you wanted, he was so rough and fast that all you could do was gasp in each breath, your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open.

His thrusts slowed and he pulled back from biting your neck to nip the side of your jaw, making your eyes roll back to focus.

“Slap me.”

Your words didn't register to him for a second. He lifted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion, although his rough thrusts didn't even budge.

“C'mon, you wanted it dirty, didn't you?” You sneered, and a book fell from the shelf next to you when your head thudded back against the wall after a deep thrust.

He went to speak, but he only let out a long breath, and that's when his thrusts started to slow. “The hell you want that for?”

You were caught off guard by the look on his face. He looked equally confused and almost… insulted? Hurt?

“Cause it feels really fucking good. Hey, you don't have to, alright?” Your breathing came back under your control when his thrusts stopped altogether.

You could tell you upset him. You slid your legs from his waist until your toes touched the floor, and his dick slipped out of you.

“Hey, it's okay, alright?” You reached to touch his chin but he tilted his head away, no longer looking confused, moreso disappointed.

You bit your bottom lip and thought. He was in no state to make any further moves so you made it for him. You pulled your clothes back on and took him to his bedroom, making sure to close and lock the door. You turned the lights off and laid him down on the bed before climbing on top of him.

“I just wanna make you feel good, can I do that?” You murmured softly, sitting on his lap and stroking his cheek.

That seemed to get to him and he gave in, nodding once without meeting your gaze.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” You promised and kissed down his cheek, deciding against being rough with him the way you were before.

“Never gonna hear me say that.” He snorted and intertwined his fingers in your hair, gentle, something you hadn't experienced with him. It was like a switch was flipped and he was a completely different man.

Daryl melted under you as you worked him over with soft touches and kisses. You took your bottoms back off and took his dick back out, giving him a few strokes to get him hard again. You wasted no time in slipping him inside you, thankful there was little resistance with how wet you had become.

You settled down on him, placing your hands on his chest to balance yourself, your fingers pinching the buttons on his shirt as a way to ground yourself. His dick sent you to other places.

You fucked him slow, taking the time to feel and appreciate each time his tip rubbed against your sweet spot. He breathed noisily under you, giving the occasional grunt or quiet whine, his hands resting on your hips.

Flipping your hair to one side over your shoulder, you leaned down and kissed him. You led this time, just moving your lips against his, slow and deep and without the use of your teeth, no matter how badly you wished to hear him whimper.

He sat up and wrapped his arms around your back to turn you over, somehow managing to keep his lips on yours the entire time.

You felt your muscles sigh in relief when he laid you on your back in the soft bed. You let out a soft happy breath when he slid his hands up your sides, content in just stroking your skin. He wasn't fucking you then, it was something different. If you were stupid you'd call it making love. He thrusted deep and slow, his hips moving on their own accord. Each time he plunged back in he'd exhale deeply through his nose, tickling the skin of your upper lip.

Daryl was the one to break the kiss, he leaned back on his heels to look down at you.

“So damn pretty.” He mumbled, his eyelids struggling to stay open. If he wasn't drunk on the wine he was drunk on you and this new way of having you, a way he never even considered. This was it, he thought, this is how he wanted to have sex for the rest of his life. Swallowing each other whole, touching and caressing every inch of skin.

His eyelids didn't feel so heavy when he saw you suck in a deep breath. Your eyes closed and you grabbed at your hair and breast, your head lolling to the side, your mouth hanging open, your face all twisted up-

You came hard around him, shuddering and gasping and whimpering as you enjoyed your sweet orgasm. It was so different, so drastically different from the last one he gave you. You didn't feel like you were on fire, clawing at your skin with your throat raw, you felt like you were being slipped into the warm black lake that was Daryl Dixon.

“Daryl, oh my god Daryl.” Your words slurred in your mouth and he leaned down to kiss you. He wanted to swallow every little noise you made. Wanted to swallow your breaths, wanted to swallow you.

“Ss-shh-fuck.” He bubbled against your lips as he came, forgetting to pull out again. He didn't give a shit anymore. He moaned then, such a beautiful noise that it nearly shattered your heart. So shameless, he didn't hold back at all, letting you hear all of it, all that you earned from him.

He ground his hips into you well after you both finished, making sure every last drop of his cum filled you up. He buried his face in your neck and rolled his hips, his rough pubes grinding against your throbbing clit. You'd never come that way before, not without at least a little outside stimulation, the fact he made you cum from penetration alone changed your life for good.

It was hard to bite back any further words. You moaned softly at the feeling of his dick still dragging against your walls, nudging against you each time in a way that was nearly too much to bear.

You looked at him with admiration. He looked beautiful. You reached up and ran your hand over his short hair, wiping the sweat from his brows. He looked at you, something he needed great courage to do, and sighed.

He couldn't think of anything to say. He felt ashamed, embarrassed, he'd been so deeply vulnerable that it physically hurt him. He swore he'd blow his goddamn brains out if you laughed or made fun of him.

But you didn't, you just smiled up at him with that dangerous look on your face that had his heart racing. It should've relaxed him, but it didn't, it made the muscles in his shoulders tense.

“Do you want me to leave?” You whispered as you stroked his cheek, fully prepared for him to go back to the same old Daryl Dixon you knew and tolerated.

“Do whatcha want.” He breathed, finally pulling his soft dick from you.

“Good. Then I'll stay.” You leaned up on your elbows and kissed his jaw before slipping into the bathroom.

When you climbed back in bed he was pretending to be asleep. You scoffed quietly in amusement and pulled a thin sheet over the two of you, curling up behind him. You decided that wouldn't suit you so you turned over and wrapped your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face in the back of his neck.

You kissed the skin there once before pressing your forehead against the same spot, closing your eyes when you felt comfortable.

Daryl stared at the wall in front of him as he felt your fingers softly fidget with the buttons of his shirt. They soon stilled and your breathing slowed to a point where he could barely hear it anymore. Only then did he close his eyes, and secretly enjoy the way you held him.

The next morning was awkward when you woke up and saw Glenn still passed out on the couch.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

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twigg96 · 3 months

Text

Don’t Push It

Pairing: Daryl x GN! Reader

Era: Alexandria (Pre-Season 8)

Pronouns: You/They/Them

Warning: Crack, Eugene being a perv, Angy Daryl, Protective Daryl, insinuated spicy scene, forgiveness of Eugene

A/N:

Hello lovelies. I would like to state that I think Eugene is a very unique character and I adore him in a very special way. I have many HCs about him and might release them eventually but for now please enjoy this fic. I just wanted to state for the fact I do not hate Eugene even though I placed him in a not fantastic light here!

The warm summer air buzzed with excitement in the Alexandrian homestead. Gardens were planted in the early spring and only now were starting to begin to produce flowers and food that the community so desperately needed. The sweet smell of earth's nectarous vegetables and fruit mixed with that of fresh cut grass, a scent you had never known you would ever miss so much in the apocalypse. It was a smell so heavenly you wished you could bottle it up.

Sitting on the garden wall with one of your freshly picked winnings you perched your leg up, resting your elbow on your thigh to help stretch out your aching back.

“Hell of a harvest.” Abraham murmured wiping a thick layer of sweat from his brow.

“Might be too much to use at one time…” Sasha sighed shaking her head examining the bounty standing next to Abraham. She stared down at the bushels of veggies and fruits the community had grown counting out loud. "It would all go bad before we'd use it all..."

“Could can it. Could make good jam and preserves.” You suggested taking a bite of the veggie you held in your hand.

“Or dry ‘em out.” Daryl murmured popping out of the crops covered in soil as your boyfriend tossed another bushel of carrots onto the pile.

“Could rehydrate them in stews or jest eat them like jerky.” A hum of affirmation rolled through the group as you all eyed the feast sitting in front of you. No matter what you chose, Alexandria was going to be well fed for a long time.

Glancing over your shoulder at footsteps crunching down the gravel pathway towards the gardens toward you and your group, your first instinct was to tense and prepare yourself for the worst. This world had hardened you. Made you jumpy and pessimistic.

His eyes plastered to the rocks beneath his feet you felt your body recoil. Eugene had never been someone who made you feel comfortable to be around. He always eyed you a little too closely, analytically. And this time as you saw Eugene trudge in as if with a purpose and a mission not even bothering to acknowledge Abraham or Sasha as they greeted him, you felt more like prey in his sights in his eyes than ever before.

Your stomach sank as his intent gaze turned from the ground onto you. He eyed you as if you were a science project he was so desperately trying to get ready for a middle school science fair. Or maybe an ameba that he was studying under a microscope desperate to understand. Your breath felt heavy in your lungs when you looked at him, so you turned your gaze to your fresh breath of air. To Daryl who all but shot Eugene with his glare. The scientist pissed him off in a way way too many could. He made him feel dumb and insignificant. He asked him questions to deliberately make Daryl feel stupid and uneducated. A nerve that the Dixon was very sensitive with and thus you were very protective of.

You shifted where you sat on your perch upon the wall watching as Eugene took his place right in front of you, just a tad too close for comfort.

"Hello... I'd like to formally request a private audience with you." The doctor's thick southern accent did not accompany his attempt at "proper communication" well. Instead he just sounded like he was parodying Shakespeare to a point it was painful and inappropriate. But that was Eugene... and he was in fact inelegant in some aspects... but profoundly knowledgeable in most so you let it slide in some cases.

This one however had you cocking your head and raising your brow in a sort of amusement at him.

"Private audience? What do you think I am now Eugene?" You teased. The doctor nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly, staring at the ground in thought for a mere second before meeting your eyes once more.

"Someone worthy of it... a monarch... a deity even." He mused. Sitting up straight in surprise you glanced behind the portly man to see Abraham pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"God damn it Eugene..." The red head hummed with a giggle from Sasha by his side. Daryl however did not seem amused by any of what was going on. His glare planted firmly in the middle of Eugene's back.

"Shut up Abraham." Eugene bit out harshly.

"I said I wanted ta talk ta them in private... so get out." He ordered pointing down the path he just came up.

Abraham rolled his eyes and sighed his mustache fluttering with the act. But he didn't move. Instead he his hand wound tight around Sasha's, his eyes meeting yours, silently reading your face. He was friends with Eugene, yes. Best friends even. But that wouldn't stop him from kicking his shit in if he ever made someone uncomfortable, especially someone he considered a friend. But you just shrugged offering Abraham a little smile. It was Eugene... what's the worst that could happen?

Abraham didn't seem to like that answer.

"Nah... We're stayin'." He growled glaring at the back of Eugene's head.

"Can't fucking tell me what to god damn do." He hissed with Sasha nodding by his side.

"Damn right. We were here working..." She hissed crossing her arms over her chest. Rolling his eyes Eugene gestured for you to follow walking a few steps down the path.

"They ain't comin'." Daryl growled defensively, making Eugene jump nearly a foot in the air as he turned to stare wide eyed at the archer then back at you who hadn't moved an inch.

"Daryl's right Eugene..." You hummed sending your archer a loving look that only somewhat softened the bristles on the man.

"I'm here to work even if I'm here on break right now. I can't just walk away... and really whatever you have to say... you should be able to say to my face with everyone else around." You said more confidently than you currently felt.

Waffling on his feet for a moment Eugene murmurs soft and low to himself. So low in fact that you couldn't hear what he was saying beyond your name and privacy. You did however hear Abraham and Sasha murmur to themselves about finding some serious 'help' for the poor guy. Maybe medication or a trip to Dr. Denise later when the gnome of a man looked back up at you, determined once more.

"Fine." He stated walking to stand back in front of you. Somehow even closer this time so he was between your crisscrossed legs.

"I'll just condense what I had to say down to it's bare essentials, since we are in a public place. Much like how you would distil ingredients for some chemical bonds." He drawled. Closing your eyes you scrubbed your face but nodded.

"Sure Eugene..."

Whatever... You think.

"What's up?"

Taking a deep breath he steps closer so that he was pressed up against the wall which you sat, clearing his throat he met your eyes staring at you as if you were the cure for cancer.

"I just think yer the bee's knees." He mused.

Awe that's actually pretty sweet... You think, your shoulders relaxing and a soft smile gracing your lips.

"I'd very much like ta lay you out like a firm steak and pound you out on the counter top until your soft and tender." He said smirking up at you with all the confidence as if he had just solved world hunger... even going as far as to lay his hands on the wall on either side of your thighs.

You gasped completely appalled staring back down at him, completely shocked and mortified you blinked and shook your head. Truly you were not entirely certain you had just heard him correctly. And by the looks on friends' and more importantly boyfriend's faces it seemed they weren't sure about what they heard either.

"I want to split you open and eat you like Sunday dinner after church."

WHAT THE FUCK?!

Your mind defrosted. You'd definitely heard him right that time.

What the fuck? WHAT. THE. FUCK?! What gave him that idea?

One glance back you nearly broke into tears. With laughter and embarrassment. Abraham stood eyes wide, mouth agape staring at Eugene like he was the missing link. Beet red you couldn't tell if it was because he was royally pissed or if he was just as embarrassed as you felt.

Sasha glared. She glared hard with intent. You had a feeling if Abraham didn't have her wrist in his hand she might have slapped the ever loving shit out of Eugene.

But then Daryl... God Daryl was unreadable. He looked somewhere torn between murderous and betrayed. It had taken you months to get Daryl back out of his shell after everything on the road... after the prison. If it weren't for you and Rick... He might not be in Alexandria at all. Your heart broke. A cold fear fell upon your shoulders. Daryl could fall back into it. Retract. Leave.

In your thoughts you'd missed what Eugene had been saying. He just kept talking... and talking... and talking. He always did. But this time was different, it was vile, filthy degrading things coming from his mouth. Things that made you angry and sickened and embarrassed.

"-tell you about how I could use my knowledge of science in the bedroom. I am smarter than you in everyway which is a huge turn on."

Enough...

"Oh and don't get me started on-"

Shut up...

"You should let me-"

Glaring daggers at Eugene you stood on the edge of the wall, now a full body height taller than him. Not that he seemed to mind one bit. Creep.

"Shut the fuck up." You hissed, feeling dirty as he nodded greedily at you. Hopping off the wall you landed on your feet beside him. Grabbing him by the collar you shoved him hard into the wall knocking his head into the the rocks. The shiver of pleasure that ran through him made your skin crawl.

"Let me get this through your thick fucking skull." You hissed getting into his face. "I do not want to have sex with you. I will never want to have sex with you." You growled shoving against him. But instead of an immediate pleasured sound he seemed to just examine you once more.

That is until you felt the presence shift behind you from emptiness to tense and protective. A dirty calloused hand gripped your forearm pulling you back a step to stand behind the archer's back to see his wings.

"They ain't gonna repeat it... but I sure as fuck will." Daryl growled stepping up nose to nose with Eugene.

"Don’t fuckin’ push yer luck. Stay the fuck away from 'em. If I ever see you houndin' round them again... I'll beat yer ass." He hiss tilting his head threateningly.

Eugene shivered and shook. His eyes wide in terror searching for yours and Abraham's for what you could only assume was assistance. But as you stood there, feeling not a drop of empathy for him, Abraham and Sasha came to stand beside you. Slamming his hand into the wall beside Eugene's head Daryl huffed.

"Hell if I even get wind of you comin' near them again and it's not for somethin' life or death. I'll beat your ass." Shoving away from the wall Daryl eyed Eugene with a shake of his head, distaste dripping from his expression.

"Ya think yer such a big man. Can do whatever the hell ya like jest cause ya can throw a few big words round... ya ain't shit. Now fuck off." He hissed walking over to you wrapping his arm around your waist. A dark angry look filled Eugene's eyes. One that sent shivers down your spine and creep to hide behind Daryl once more.

"You think just because you have strength that they are attracted to you. But you are an ignoramus a-" His rant was short lived. Daryl only had to move slightly, pretending to pull back in preparation to punch Eugene before the doctor was scurrying down the path faster than anyone had ever seen him move before.

"I'm gonna have a real stern talk with him... Excuse me" Abraham sighed scrubbing his hand down his face as he followed down the path to follow his friend. Sasha however waffled her feet her eyes flicking between Daryl and you.

"I'm going to just... go harvest... over there if you need me." She said awkwardly moving to the other side of the garden where she could very much still hear and see you both.

Slowly Daryl turned to face you his eyes glimmering with something dark and dangerous.

"Daryl..." You whispered shaking your head softly a pout playing on your lips. Slowly Daryl's fingers curled and unfurled around the nothingness that was the air. His piercing blues scanned down your body sending a shiver down your spine. You opened your mouth a breath was all you could take before his hand shot out and gripped your neck backing you into the wall he looked down at you with an intensity that brought goosebumps to your skin.

"He do this before? He hurt you?" Daryl growled protectively. His grip on your skin wasn't tight. But inviting and comforting. Reaching up to his wrist you felt him release his hold. Bringing his hand up to your lips slowly you kiss his knuckles then the palm of his hand.

"My love..." You whispered. "I would have told you in a heartbeat if anyone came near me."

Daryl watched you. Studied your actions. His hand relaxing against your lips. Fingers unfurling to take up your cheek and hold it as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Fuckin better have.” He whispered softly. His eyes meeting yours. A deep yearning sucking you in as he met your lips, wrapping his arm around your waist possessively. Pulling you tight to his body you felt his need press into your hip. His tongue tangling with yours before trailing down your lips and jaw to the soft spot on your neck.

His breath caught in his throat. Words going unsaid Daryl pulled away glancing down the path Eugene and Abraham had just walked down. The soft glint in his eyes melting back into a hateful tone.

“Hey…” You whisper. “how about we go for a ride?” You ask interlocking your fingers in his. Cocking a brow Daryl simply blinked at you.

“Yeah. Why not?” You ask smiling up at him. “We can. Grab our gear from the house. Go to Aaron’s get some supplies. Tell Rick and make a week of it. How’s that sound. Just us outside the walls for a week?”

Lifting the side of his thumb to his mouth Daryl chewed and picked at it for several minutes, glancing over to where Sasha had wandered off to.

“Would you like that?” You whisper stepping forward slowly. Reaching up you wrapped your fingers around his wrist gently caressing your thumb across his skin, gentling his hand back to your side away from his mouth. Blue eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but swallow the thick nothing that got caught in your throat.

“Yeah…” He murmured. “Yeah let’s get the hell outta here.”

The ride to no where was soothing for the both of you. The rumble of the bike both lulled you into calm and ushered in a heat neither of you could ignore. Holding tight to Daryl’s middle your hands roaming did nothing to help the situation. The first safe place you found became the loudest once secured.

Scratch marks adorned your back. Sweat dripped down both your skin as you pressed your lips together. Murmuring of I love yous all throughout the night.

When you both returned a week later. Throughly happy, pleasured, relaxed and with treasures a plenty for Alexandria; Eugene, Abraham, and Sasha stood alongside Rick at the entrance. Daryl looked back at you. Waiting for your blessing before turning off the bike. Patting his side you nodded. You’d hear them out.

“I… would like to throughly express my apologies.” Eugene said softly, waffling his feet. “I acted irrationally and inappropriately. That was completely unacceptable. I hope we can continue to be friends.” He finished, glancing to Sasha and Abraham.

Sighing you glanced to Daryl. The murderous glint and anger was gone. Though he was waiting. Watching. He was watching you. Waiting on your reaction as much as you were watching his.

“I forgive you.” You say turning to Eugene, hugging Daryl tight around his middle. “I forgive you but I’m not happy with you.” A relief washed over Eugene though he nodded a serious look to his face.

“Understood. I have crossed a line I should never have crossed. It will not happen again.” He murmured. Hugging Daryl softly as if soothing a growling guard dog you smiled. “Good.”

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 8 days

Text

Words: 3,782 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language, blood, descriptions of injury (nothing super graphic), some mild violence Era: The Whisperers Summary: Y/N wakes up after her conflict with the Whisperers in the woods. A/N: Ohhhh boy. Shit is happenin' in this one! Hope you all enjoy!

Part 2 (previous chapter)

Consciousness didn’t consume you in an instant like it usually did. Instead, it came back as a slow drip, drip, drip. Your hearing was the first thing to return and you marked that it was almost silent. There was no bird song, no wind rustling the leaves, no cracking of branches as the pines swayed. You felt no air moving past your face or in your hair. I must be dead, you thought. But then, sensation started to come back and your body ached and burned. Your head was pounding and foggy. Surely being dead didn’t hurt this much… You were lying on something soft. You couldn’t make sense of what was happening or where you were.

You concentrated on trying to open your eyes. It felt like it took hours to get your eyelids to lift and when they did you stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Ceiling? What the fuck?

There was suddenly movement beside you, a soft rustling and you turned to look as quickly as you were able to. The man was familiar and though you’d only seen him once up close, you recognized him immediately. He spoke, sitting up hurriedly when he saw your eyes open. “Hey,” he drawled softly.

You gulped and started to panic, your eyes darting around the room and over your own body. You were in some kind of makeshift hospital or clinic and found that you were wearing only a cotton smock reminiscent of the hospital gowns of the old world.

Your heart was pounding. Fuck, your side burned. Your ribs ached. There was a thick bandage around your forearm, where Alpha’s knife had sliced you. You noted that the tip of one of your fingers was black and blue. Your mind was racing, thoughts moving through too quickly to focus on. You stared at the IV tubing going into your arm.

Daryl could read the rising panic on your face, on the sudden twitchy and feverish energy rising in you. He tried to calm you down. “Hey, s’alrigh’. Yer safe here. Yer—”

But the next moment you were on your feet, slipping off the bed onto the floor on the side opposite him. He watched, stunned, as you yanked the IV from your arm, leaving the tube dangling and dripping onto the floor.

He stood quickly, palms out in a show of good will and tried again to get through to you. “S’okay. Yer safe,” he urged, his voice and expression soft. But your eyes were still darting around the room.

You clutched a hand over your side and grimaced. You couldn’t even stand straight. Your body was hunched over due to the overwhelming pain in your side and abdomen. Your muscles felt weak and rubbery. “Where the fuck am I? Where the hell are my clothes, my gear?” you demanded, fear rising in you quickly, tightening around your lungs. Your vision began to tunnel inwards, the edges growing blurry and then black, skrinking, tightening.

“We put it aside for ya,” Daryl replied, trying his hardest to keep his voice low and steady. He could see you swirling, buzzing with nerves and something that looked like fear. “Let’s just—get ya back in bed. Ya just had surgery. Ya lost a lotta blood. Ya shouldn’t be up yet.”

You only stared back at him, your eyes sharp and intense, distrustful.

“Ya’ve got stitches,” Daryl said, taking a hesitant step toward the end of the bed separating the two of you, trying to move closer. He could see your eyes repeatedly darting toward the door. You were going to make a run for it, whether that was rational or not. “We’re tryin’ to help ya. It’s okay,” he drawled again, but he knew he needed back up. “Hey, doc!” He suddenly yelled over his shoulder. “Little help over here!”

A lot of things happened very quickly after that. Afraid that you would injure yourself further if you made a run for it, Daryl stepped around the bed and tried to block your exit with his broad frame. Then, Siddiq and Enid came running from the other side of the clinic just in time to see you haul back a fist and punch Daryl right in the face. He crumpled a little to the side, blood pouring out of his nose.

“Ah, fuck!” he growled, looking at the crimson now dotting the floor and his hands.

You tried to dash past him but suddenly your knees hit the floor. The pain in your side was exponentially worse. You clutched a hand to it, gasping, and felt something wet wicking into the cotton. Lifting your fingers, you saw a violent red spot growing on the fabric.

Daryl stood up, shaking his wavy brown hair out of his eyes and holding a bandana to his nosebleed, but not taking his eyes off you. You looked like a cornered wild animal.

“Enid,” Siddiq said quietly, “get something to sedate her. She tore her stitches.” Now, Siddiq too was stepping toward you with his palms out, cautious and worried about you making the situation worse than it already was. “We just want to help you, okay? You’re hurt pretty bad. You had surgery. Luke and Alden brought you back here. They saved your life. Let’s just—take a few deep breaths, and then get back in bed…”

The edges of your vision were starting to close in. It was like peering through a tunnel that was growing smaller and smaller. “Fuck you,” you murmured. You were surprised by how breathy and weak your voice came out. You tried again to get back up on your feet, but your legs wouldn’t hold you. You collapsed again to the floor and Daryl and Siddiq seized the opportunity and moved in, grabbing hold of you to restrain you. You tried to fight against them but what little energy you had was gone. None of your muscles were working.

“Enid! Hurry up!” Siddiq called.

The tunnel of black in your vision closed in completely. You shut your eyes, sinking slowly toward unconsciousness again. You were vaguely aware of the voices filtering in still. They sounded like they were coming out of a drain, indistinct and muddled.

“Give her the injection,” Siddiq urged. Enid rushed forward and administered the dose into your upper arm.

Daryl, his nose finally no longer bleeding, could see that you were already crashing even before the shot. He cradled your head and neck as you collapsed toward the cold, tile floor.

“How bad is it?” he asked as you went limp in his arms. The crimson stain seemed impossibly large already on your cotton gown, but he hoped it was just from the way the fabric was wicking up the blood.

Siddiq’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know. Let’s hope she only tore the surface stitches, otherwise we’ll have to do surgery again. Enid, you’ll have to check her. Grab a towel to put under her on the bed. Here—Daryl, help me get her laid down again.”

“I’ll get her,” Daryl replied. “Just go get what ya need to treat her.” Siddiq agreed and hurried off. Daryl scooped you into his arms as gently as he could and laid you down on the bed again, sighing. He stepped back with his brow deeply furrowed.

Enid glanced over at him. His face was a bloody mess and he dabbed at it again with his handkerchief, tilting his head back and again shaking his hair out of his eyes. “How’s your nose? Do you think it’s broken?” she asked.

Daryl gave it an exploratory prod, wincing as he pushed his fingers along the bridge. It was swollen, but he didn’t think it was broken. He shook his head. “Nah. I dun think so. But she got me pretty good for somebody in her shape,” he drawled.

Enid nodded and glanced back at you on the bed. “What happened that set her off?”

Daryl shook his head and shrugged vaguely. “She just—woke up. And then started lookin’ for a way out,” he said. “I think—I think she was havin’ a panic attack.”

Enid sighed. “As much as I hate to say it, we might need to restrain her,” she said, turning her attention to the wound in your side now. “She could have really done more damage to herself.” Siddiq returned with supplies. Daryl averted his eyes and moved around the other side of the bed as Enid pulled up the gown to expose your wounds. Daryl caught just the smallest glimpse of the deep blue and black bruising blooming up your side, smeared with red.

“I’ll let ya take care of her, give her some privacy. I’ll go update ev’rybody,” he drawled, quickly taking his leave and stepping out into the open air. He pulled in a deep lungful and rubbed a hand over his face. Fuck. That almost couldn’t have gone worse.

Before he did anything, Daryl needed to clean himself up. He headed up to the big main house and sought out a washing basin, pouring in fresh water from the pitcher and washing his hands and face, inspecting himself in the mirror. His nose was definitely swollen and it was a bit hard to breathe… but it looked far better without all the blood everywhere. He wondered if he’d have the shadow of a couple black eyes tomorrow…

“God!” Tara was suddenly striding up to him, concern written all over her face. “What happened to you?!” she asked, incredulous. Alright, so maybe his nose still didn’t look great…

“Uhh—she woke up,” Daryl drawled.

“And—what? Attacked you?” Tara asked, perplexed.

“I think she was havin’ a panic attack. She just looked scared more than anythin’. She tried to run outta the damn clinic with her fuckin’ stitches and everythin’,” he replied.

“Jesus!” Tara exclaimed. “Do we need to—move her into one of the cells?” she asked, clearly alarmed.

“Nah,” Daryl replied quickly. “She was just disoriented, is all. She’ll be alrigh’. She tore her damn stitches though. Siddiq and Enid are workin’ on her now.”

Tara sighed and nodded.

“How’s it goin’ with the girl and Henry?”

She shrugged. “Okay. I think a lot of what she’s saying is bullshit but—maybe we’ll get there. She seems to be building rapport with him.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, well maybe if we can talk to this woman we can leave Henry out of it.”

“Maybe,” Tara agreed. “But I’m not sure, based on what you’ve said, that she’s any more likely to talk.”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Daryl’s next task was to go find Alden and Luke. They’d expressed grave concern about you when they managed to get you back to Hilltop. Considering how you’d saved them, returning the favor felt like the least they could do. If you hadn’t shot those Whisperers out of nowhere and then appeared like a fucking ghost, they didn’t know what would be happening to them now. Miraculously, they’d happened on their horses wandering home along the old highway and had been able to lift you onto one, patched up against the bleeding as best they could. Still, by the time they’d reached the gates, there was a river of crimson running down the saddle and you were pale and chilled. No one was sure you’d survive.

The story of your fight with Alpha and the others wearing the horrifying skin masks had already been told many times and passed through Hilltop like wind through bare branches. There were whispers everywhere as Daryl walked toward the trailer the new group was staying in. He found Alden and Luke standing outside with the other newcomers, Yumiko, Kelly, Connie, and Magna. They looked eager as they saw him approaching.

“Wh—uhh… what happened to your face?” Luke blurted out.

Daryl waved a hand dismissively. “S’nothin’. She woke up,” he said. “But—she tore her stitches again and passed out so Enid and Siddiq were checkin’ her. I’m not sure how bad but—”

“Wait—she did that to your face?” Alden asked, his eyebrows lifting. He blinked, surprised. “I told ya she was a helluva fighter,” he said with a wry laugh. “Even after losing pints of blood, she got a hit in on Daryl Dixon. Not many can say that.”

“Why did she do that to your face?” Yumiko asked, concerned.

Daryl sighed. “She was just scared and disoriented. She’s on some heavy meds—it’s alrigh’,” he said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“But she’ll be okay?” Kelly asked. “I mean, she saved Alden and Luke. She has to be okay. Is Tara gonna let her stay here?”

Daryl gulped and shook his head. “S’too early for all of that. And honestly, I dun think she’ll want to stay.”

“Well, why not? If she’s as good as Luke has said she is, she’d be an asset here,” Magna said. “There are walls, resources.”

“Some people—” Daryl paused and chewed nervously on his bottom lip for a moment. “Some people just dun wanna be inside walls. Some people are better out there.” He felt their eyes on him and ducked his head. “Anyway, I thought ya’ll’d wanna know. ‘M gonna go back up and see how she is. They should have her patched up by now unless it’s real bad.”

When he got back to the clinic, Enid was at your bedside. She stood as his bootsteps approached and met his inquisitive gaze. “She only tore through the outside stitches,” she said. “We got her stitched up again.”

Daryl’s eyes landed on the fabric strips now tying her hands to the rails of the gurney. “Do ya think that’s necessary?” he drawled.

Enid smiled at him and let out a dry laugh. “She punched you in the face and ripped through about twenty stitches. Don’t you?”

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully for a moment. “S’just—ain’t gonna win us any points with her. If we want her to tell us what she knows, it ain’t a good start.”

Enid nodded. “I know. If she can be calm when she wakes up, once she gets her bearings, if she’s not a flight risk, we can untie them. But she could have seriously hurt herself again. She had a lot of internal bleeding and she’s already lost so much blood…”

“Alrigh’. Hey—I’ll stay. Go take care of Rosita and Eugene,” Daryl said, sighing. He took his seat again at your bedside and waited. He’d hardly been sitting for two minutes, when outside the window, he caught a glimpse of a dark shape zip by.

Daryl stood and paced around your bed, coming to stand at the window. At first, he didn’t see any sign of it, but another burst of movement caught his eye and he looked up to see a raven circling overhead. He watched its graceful movements as it swept downward, riding the wind. It hovered low over the next trailer and then spread its tail wide and dropped down to stand on the roof. Daryl had the distinct feeling that it was staring at him through the window. It stood for a moment, tilting its head this way and that as if trying to figure him out. Then it lifted its head and let out a series of hoarse calls, its wings spreading slightly with each burst. Afterwards, it seemed to settle in on the edge of the roof and Daryl knew, somehow, it was waiting for you.

He returned to the chair at your bedside and sank down again. The afternoon wore away and he passed the time sharpening his knives and working on his crossbow. Eventually, evening began to fall and exhaustion started to settle over him. His mind was churning over the Whisperers, over the girl now held in Hilltop’s cell, over Henry, over Jesus…

At some point, he fell asleep slouched in the chair. He woke to a soft rustling sometime after night had thickly fallen and he shot upright, fully awake immediately. He saw you blinking yourself awake by the light of the lantern he’d lit on the small table by the door. Your eyelids were heavy and again consciousness was slow to return.

He figured he’d better try to head off your panic, if that was even possible. He stood slowly, careful not to startle you. “Hey,” he said gently.

Your arm lifted from the bed as if you were trying to raise a hand to your face, but the movement was quickly stopped by the fabric tying your hand to the bed rail. He watched your face darken with understanding and your chest began to rise and fall faster.

“Yeah… ‘M sorry ‘bout that,” he drawled. “Ya tore some of yer stitches last time and the docs are worried ‘bout somethin’ worse happenin’.”

You merely stared up at him, your chest still heaving with each breath, eyes narrowed under your furrowed brow.

Daryl awkwardly scratched at a non-existent itch on the back of his head. The silence was thick, heavy. He marveled at how small you looked on the gurney, but recalled everything Alden and Luke had told him about your fight with this supposed leader of the Whisperers, or The Shepherds as you called them. You must have fought with no small amount of ferocity.

“Where the hell am I?” you asked. Your throat was dry and your voice came out raspy. You couldn’t believe how tired you felt. They probably had drugged you with something… if not to sedate you then just the painkillers you were sure were going straight into your bloodstream would explain it. For the moment you were grateful for them. Even through your current fog, your body still ached and your side... you didn’t know how to describe the feeling but it was unpleasant. You hadn’t forgotten the pain from the last time you’d awoken and tried to get out. The panic had overwhelmed you, but the pain had knocked you to your knees.

“A community of survivors. We call it Hilltop,” Daryl said. He was studying you, studying your face, each micro-expression, trying to get a read on you… but it felt impossible. Well—except he could tell you were largely pissed.

You sighed and your head dropped back onto the pillow. You were so tired. Just staying awake was a struggle. Your eyes closed again and you took a few breaths, trying to slow your heart rate and willing your lungs to slow down too.

“Look, if ya—”

“Daryl, isn’t it?” you interrupted him. He looked almost surprised that you remembered his name. “Am I a prisoner here?” you asked him, your eyes opening again and fixing on his. “I’d like to know how saving two of your people is a fucking crime.”

He gulped. “No. ‘Course ya ain’t,” he replied gently.

“Then why are my hands tied to the fucking bed?” He could hear the panic rising in your voice again and he shifted.

“Because of what happened last time… Ya ripped yer outside stitches open on your side. Ya had surgery. That knife? It nicked yer liver. Ya were bleedin’ out when Alden and Luke got ya back here. Hell, ya were half-dead. Ya could undo everythin’ the docs did if ya aren’t careful. If ya promise to stay calm and in the damn bed, I’ll untie ya righ’ now,” he said quickly.

You stared at him with distrust still. Daryl’s hand landed on the handle of his knife in its sheath. You flinched slightly as he unbuckled the loop and slid it out, looking down at it in his hands for a long moment. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a long moment and gulped. “All we wanna do is help ya. Ya saved two of our own. Four if ya count me and Dog. And ya didn’t have to do that.” With one hand, he reached over and untied the binding on your wrist. Then, he held out the knife for you to grip the handle.

You accepted it in your now free hand, though you still peered at him with suspicion.

But Daryl seemed undeterred. He only nodded and moved around to the other side of the gurney and untied your other hand before returning to pull his chair a little closer to the bed and sit down.

You turned the knife over in your hands, not taking your eyes off him.

“Do ya need anything? Water?”

You gulped and stared down at the knife in your hands for a moment before shaking your head. “Where’s Achilles?” you asked suddenly.

Daryl’s head tilted slightly. “Achilles?”

“My raven.”

Daryl nodded. “More creative name than ‘Dog,’” he commented, nearly smiling at you. When you didn’t react, he simply cleared his throat and pointed to the window. “Last I saw, he was waitin’ righ’ out there, on the roof of the next building.”

You sighed and your head dropped back into your pillow again. You clutched the knife against your chest like it was a lifeline. Daryl watched as you purposely took in some slow, deep breaths.

“Ya alrigh’?” he asked softly.

“Is she dead?” you asked suddenly, your eyes meeting his again. Daryl gave you a questioning look. “Alpha. Is she dead? Did your people kill her after she—she kicked me in the fucking head?”

Daryl gulped and shook his head. “No. She—she managed to get away. They were more worried about you.”

Your eyes closed and you let out a heavy sigh. “I stabbed her in the fucking thigh. How did she get away?” You said it more to yourself than to Daryl. “If they could have killed her, they should have and left me to die.”

Daryl felt as if all the air in the room had suddenly been sucked out. His nerves seemed to sizzle with electricity. “Why would ya say that?” he asked softly, concernedly.

You turned away and wouldn’t say anymore. Daryl sat back in his chair and watched as your breathing slowed and deepened but your grip on his knife never loosened.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl dixon angst

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orchidniins · 2 months

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Cupid Clarkey | Chris Dixon

Summary: George Clarke plays matchmaker for his best friend and his flatmate. Pairing: ChrisMD x f!Reader, Best Friend!George Clarke Warning: Fluff Word count: 9.3k+ A/N: Thanks anon for this request! The timeline in the fic sorta jumps forward quickly (just don't think about it too much😗 ). This is my longest fic ever and I would really appreciate feedback on it! Hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can you get off my Hinge already, Y/N?” George's annoyed voice cut through the blaring music of the pub as he tried (and failed) to snatch his phone out of your hand.

“I'm trying to find you a girlfriend, Georgie,” you retorted, laughing as you dodged his attempts.

You were currently squished into a booth in the pub, sitting next to George, both of you a few drinks in (though you were definitely more drunk than him), swiping away on his Hinge profile and bickering like you two used to back in uni.

Having just moved to London a few weeks ago, tonight was a reunion of sorts. You were meeting up with George and a bunch of other friends from your uni days.

You and him had met in the first week of school, initially sitting next to each other in class, which turned into late-night study sessions and eventually blossomed into a close friendship.

George rolled his eyes. “Oh please, like you’re any better at this than I am.”

“Better at what? Being single or being hopeless at dating?” you shot back, smirking.

“How long has it been since your last relationship?” George challenged, raising an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and looked back at him. “And how long has it been since you’ve been laid?” you teased, swiping left on yet another profile.

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I get action,” George shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh please, the only action you’ve seen is from your right hand,” you said, laughing at him.

“Well, that’s a lot coming from you,” George countered. “You haven’t dated since that prick from uni.”

“I actually enjoy being single,” you said, shrugging. “All you do is cry about it. You always say you want a girlfriend, but you turn down every girl that approaches you.”

George snorted. “Say that to the pint of ice cream you finished last week in under an hour while watching that chick movie and bawling your eyes out about wanting a boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, turning back to his phone. “Oh, you got a match! I’m gonna message her.”

“Absolutely not!” George exclaimed, finally managing to pry his phone out of your hands. “Maybe if you were a little less picky, you wouldn’t be single.”

You looked at him in shock and surprise. “Really? You’re gonna talk to me about being picky?”

“You say that, but you’re the one with the mile-long checklist, not everyone can be as perfect as me, Y/N.” George retorted, shaking his head.

“If you’re so perfect, then maybe we should just date, Georgie,” you said jokingly, nudging him with your shoulder.

The both of you went silent for a moment, staring blankly at each other. Then, simultaneously, you shuddered at the thought. “No!” you both said in unison, laughing.

“God, that’d be like dating my sister,” George said, acting outwardly disgusted at your joke.

You stuck your tongue out at him, making a face.

You two continue your bickering, the atmosphere in the pub buzzing with laughter and chatter from your group of friends. After a while, your friends scatter around the pub, leaving just you and George in the booth. Just as you're deep in banter, an unfamiliar voice interrupts you two.

“Hey man,” a voice said, and you looked up to see a man with blonde curly hair approaching your booth. George got up to greet him, and from where you’re sitting, it’s very obvious that he was quite drunk himself.

"Chris, mate, how drunk are you already?" George asked, as if he had read your mind, with a chuckle, clapping Chris on the back.

Chris laughed, his grin widening. "Chip's pub golf videos always destroy me," he replied, his words slightly slurred as he swayed a little.

Chris glanced over at you, his eyes momentarily focusing as he took in your presence. "Hope I’m not interrupting," he said teasingly, turning back to George, flashing a mischievous grin.

George chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, mate, you're good. Go get yourself a drink and join us." Chris headed off to the bar, and George sat back down.

Chris returned with his drink and slid into the booth, his easy smile and sparkling eyes catching your attention.

“So, who’s your friend?” Chris asked, nodding towards you with a playful grin.

“Y/N, this is Chris, the flatmate,” George introduced, gesturing between the two of you. “Chris, this is Y/N, the best friend.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” you greeted Chris warmly.

Chris grinned back at you. “George is wrong, you know. I’m the best friend.”

“No, you’re wrong. I've known him longer, so I am his only best friend,” you say, as you laugh at him.

“Don’t need to fight, guys,” George interjects, “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“That’s just not right,” Chris replies, ignoring George. “I live with him. Do you know how much shit I put up with? Surely that makes me his best friend.”

You chuckle, “Okay…but have you had him shotgun a can an hour before a final, puke all over your bed, and then have to clean it up and make sure he gets to campus in time?”

Chris grins, “Alright, but have you had to deal with his shit love life? Or lack thereof? And like have had to listen to him complain all the time.”

You exasperatedly add, “Yeah! Actually, I have,” you say, nodding at Chris.

You turn to George. “Honestly, George mate, you're a mess. I don’t even want to be your best friend anymore.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, man, you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

George looks between the two of you, bewildered. “What the fuck is happening?”

You and Chris exchange a look. “Maybe we should become best friends and ditch George,” Chris suggests, winking at you.

“Guys, can we go back to both of you fighting over me?” George says, and you and Chris burst out laughing at him.

You find yourself feeling instantly drawn to Chris's charm. After a bit of small talk, you learn that Chris had been out for a shoot and decided to drop by the pub where George was once he finished. You had heard George talk about Chris before and all the antics they’d gotten up to, but you hadn’t paid much heed to it until now.

And as the night went on and you got increasingly drunker, you found yourself sitting closer to Chris. George already knew this about you; you always got increasingly flirty and bolder when you were drunk—a stark contrast to your sober self.

Usually, George was always one of your victims, jokingly hitting on him to piss him off, and he also always had to keep you away from creepy men when you were drunk. But now, with Chris in the mix, George honestly did not know what to say at the scene in front of him.

(A/N: I have no game whatsoever. Even if I did pull in the past, I was so drunk that I genuinely don’t remember. I did my best I promise)

“You’re pretty cute for someone who’s friends with George,” you say to Chris, a playful smile on your lips as you take another sip of your cocktail.

Chris grins and leans in closer. “And you’re pretty hot for someone who hangs out with him.”

You laugh, inching closer to him and playfully touching his bicep. "I know, I'm just naturally irresistible," you tease, giving him a sly look that hints at something more.

Chris chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I believe it. If you weren’t George’s friend, I’d have made a move on you the second I walked in.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in so your lips are just inches from his ear. “Who says you can’t make a move now?” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “Who knows, tonight might be your night.”

Chris’s breath hitches, his gaze darkening. “Is that so?”

George groans. “You two are disgusting. Chris, stop hitting on her. Y/N get away from him!”

You brush off George, leaning even closer into Chris’s touch. “Ignore him, he’s no fun.”

Chris says, "He's just jealous that I’ve got the attention of someone this beautiful," he murmurs back, his lips brushing lightly against your earlobe, his voice low and you hear George scoff in the back.

George rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can’t take any more of this. You two are unbearable.” He stands up, shaking his head. “I’m going to go close out our tab. You better be five feet apart when I get back.”

As George walks away, you and Chris are left alone, practically glued together at this point. “Looks like it’s just us now,” Chris murmurs, his hand migrating to your thigh, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You smile coyly, leaning closer to him. “And what do you plan to do now that it’s just us?” you tease, your voice laced with playful anticipation.

Chris chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “When George told me about you, he didn’t mention how incredibly sexy you are. If I had to be around someone as gorgeous as you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a rush of desire. “Well, it looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of controlling yourself so far,” you reply, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

Chris’s eyes darken with desire. “Who says I’m trying to control myself?” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours, lips so close that they are almost touching.

Before things could escalate further between you and Chris, George returned, breaking the intense moment. "Okay, I think it's time to get you two home," he announced.

Despite your protests, he manages to pull you off of Chris. As you stood up, the effects of the alcohol hit you, causing you to stumble. George quickly steadied you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling over.

Realizing it was late and knowing you were in no state to go home alone, George insisted you crash at his place, which was closer than yours and the three of you hailed a cab back to the boy’s flat.

Once there, George quickly dumps Chris in his room, before he sets you up in his own bed. He offers you some of his clothes to change out of your outfit and he opts to sleep on the couch for the night.

As you drifted towards sleep, the alcohol slowly wearing off, you couldn't help but rethink the events of the night. All your actions start to blur now, though a wave of embarrassment washes over you. You knew there would be consequences to face in the morning, but for now your body needed sleep.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache, the hazy memories of the previous night lingering in your mind. As the realization of your interaction with Chris sets in, all you wanted to do was bury yourself six feet under.

You stumble out of George’s bed, groaning softly as your head throbs. Dressed in George's oversized clothes, you made your way to the kitchen, clutching your head, desperately in need of coffee.

As you enter, you freeze at the sight of Chris, who’s already there, shuffling around in the kitchen.

He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair tousled and the hangover evident on his face. You catch a glimpse of his abs when he reaches up to a cupboard, and despite your headache, you can’t help but stare for a moment, your brain going to dangerous places.

Chris turns around and spots you, offering a weak smile. You look away slightly embarrassed, fearing that you were caught staring. “Morning,” he says, his voice hoarse as he clears his throat.

“Morning,” you reply, trying to muster a smile despite the awkward tension that has settled into the air.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence as you both avoid each other’s eyes, the memory of your flirtatious behavior lingering between you. Chris pours himself a glass of water, and you take the opportunity to grab a mug for coffee, hoping the caffeine will help clear your head. “Do you want a cup as well?” you ask, trying to break the silence.

“Huh? No, thanks,” he responds, clearly drawing himself out of wherever he had zoned out to for a minute.

“So, uh,” Chris begins hesitantly, stopping for a moment when you both hear George stirring on the couch. Chris gestures toward the balcony, and you grab your coffee and follow him outside. Once you two are there, you lean against the railing, both of you awkward, neither knowing what to say.

Chris is the first to break the silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “…last night…was something...I guess we were pretty drunk.”

“Yeah,” you agree quickly, trying to downplay your embarrassment. “Pretty drunk.”

He chuckles nervously. “I don’t usually… you know, act like that.”

“Me neither,” you admit, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “It was just the alcohol, I guess.”

“Definitely,” he nods, relief evident in his expression. “We can just, uh, forget about it, right?”

“Absolutely,” you say a bit too quickly. But, you feel your heart drop a little, though you don’t know why. Him wanting to not acknowledge what happened yesterday (though it was nothing) makes you slightly upset, but you don’t let it show on your face. You bury your face in your coffee, avoiding his gaze.

It was insane how comfortable you two were around each other last night, and now the air was replaced with this heavy awkwardness that neither of you knew how to break. And the worst part is you couldn’t even remember all that you did yesterday (But you're sure George won't let you forget).

“So, um, any plans for today?” Chris asks, trying to make small talk and pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Um, what? No, nothing. Just gonna get back to my place and crash,” you say, shaking your head. “You?” you ask him.

“Same,” he says. You nod in response, but neither of you knows how to continue. You both stand there, sipping your drinks and stealing glances at each other, the awkwardness palpable.

“So I should go,” you say, trying to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. Chris just nods, and you step back into the apartment, making a beeline for George’s room, just wanting to get out of there and back to your own space as quickly as possible.

All you can think is, what the hell is wrong with you? You weren’t usually like this with people…what is happening?

-------⋆✧⋆-------

After that day, George teased you endlessly about what happened with Chris. Each time, you brushed him off, ignoring his jabs, saying you didn’t want to talk about it or that you didn’t remember what happened, unwilling to revisit the embarrassing memories of that night.

You’d run into Chris a few times when you were over at the flat with George, but those interactions weren’t any better. Your interactions with Chris went from awkward to him just plain ignoring your presence now, and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Combined with how embarrassed you still felt about your actions, you decided it was better to just ignore him as well.

George would drop you knowing looks whenever that happened, but when he saw that you really didn’t want to talk about it, he eventually dropped the topic.

Until today, that was.

“I’m not feeling up to it,” you tell George, speaking with him over the phone.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Just a movie night with some friends,” George tries to persuade you.

“I don’t know, George. I’m just not in the mood,” you reply, feeling a mix of anxiety and reluctance.

George sighs, knowing exactly why you’re hesitant. “Look, I get that things are awkward between you and Chris. But avoiding each other isn’t going to make it any better. We’re all friends here. Just come over, watch a movie, and relax. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “I just... I feel so embarrassed about everything. I don’t want to make things weird.”

“See, I don’t know exactly what’s going on with the both of you, but I can tell you’re overthinking it. Things are only as awkward as you make them. We’ll have a good time, I promise. And if it gets too much, you can always leave. Just give it a chance, yeah?”

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re right. I’m just overthinking. It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” George says, the excitement evident in his voice.

And that is how you found yourself sitting on the floor in George’s flat, leaning up against the couch with "The Hangover" playing on the TV.

You were bundled up in a blanket, surrounded by scattered cushions, with the smell of popcorn in the air. George was sitting on the couch just behind you, lazily flicking popcorn at your head, which you returned by swatting him on the knee.

“Seriously, George, you’re worse than a child,” you scolded, turning around to look at him as another popcorn kernel hit you on the forehead.

“Can’t help it,” he replied with a grin. You whacked him on the thigh this time, but he still threw another piece your way.

It was just George and the Arthurs for now. Despite your cold conversations with Chris, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed when George mentioned that Chris would be running late. Even with the weird energy between you two, you were kind of maybe hoping to see him today.

You were enjoying yourself, though. You’d met Arthur Hill a few times before and got along really well, and this was your first time meeting Mr. Television (as George liked to call him), and you were having a great time with the boys.

You pull your focus away from George and instead decide to just watch the movie when you hear the door open, and your eyes dart to the entrance. Chris walks in, dressed in dark cargos and a black sweatshirt, his curls messy from the day and it made him look a little rugged, and all you could think about was how good you thought he looked.

He swings his backpack onto the floor and starts taking off his coat, before he greeted everyone.

Your heart skips a beat at how effortlessly attractive he looked. Despite the cold vibes he had been giving you this whole time, you couldn’t deny your attraction towards him.

Outwardly, you were trying to be cool about it, but inwardly, you were itching to know why he was acting like this. You give him a tight-lipped smile as you make brief eye contact, but he quickly looks away, heading to his room.

George noticed the exchange and shook his head slightly. You shot him a look that said ‘stop it’, but you knew he’d bring this up later.

After a few minutes, Chris joins you all, settling on the floor next to you while the others remain on the couch. Other than the occasional instances where you pass him the popcorn, he avoids eye contact, but you can sometimes feel his gaze on you, especially when you and George bicker in loud whispers.

You reach for the coffee table, grabbing a can of seltzer, about to take a sip, only for George to snatch it out of your hand. “George!” you exclaim, swatting him on the arm before you wipe away the few drops of the drink that he managed to spill on your shirt.

You think you hear a chuckle from Chris, but when you turn to look in the direction of the sound, his eyes are glued to the TV.

After a bit, Chris gets up and heads to the kitchen. When he returns, he silently hands you a drink. You take it with a small, surprised smile, touched by the sweet gesture even if things between you two are still a little awkward. "Thanks," you murmur.

He nods in response, his genuine smile making your heart flutter before his eyes flick away from yours, and you feel yourself melt.

As the credits roll on the third film, George nudges you and suddenly pulls you into his room.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Chris?” George asks bluntly, shutting the door behind him.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly, I have no idea. After that day at the pub, it’s been so weird. I don’t even know the guy, and I feel like he hates me or something. Is he like this with everyone he just meets?”

George frowns, looking apologetic. “Not really… Normally, you can’t get him to shut up.”

“I get such cold vibes from him,” you admit, frustration seeping into your voice. “What did I do wrong?… Whatever, I don’t care, but its annoying.” You pause, then add with a small, reluctant smile, “It doesn’t help that every time I look at him, I drool.”

George responds, slightly shocked, “I—I’m sorry, what?”

You roll your eyes and say, “I’ve been single for so long that I’m even attracted to your shitty friend.”

George laughs, shaking his head. “He can get on your nerves, but he’s not that bad. But, he can be a little socially challenged around people he—”

George stops mid-sentence, seeming to have a moment of realization, his expression shifting. “Huh.”

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask, confused.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says quickly, disappearing out of the room before you can press further.

You stand there confused for a second before you return to the living room, where Arthur Hill and Arthur TV was tidying up. You decide to join them, looking around, wondering where George and Chris had suddenly disappeared to.

You help them gather the empty bottles and snack wrappers, making small talk. Just as you're finishing up, George and Chris reappear, both looking shady as hell, whispering to each other.

You look at George, giving him a pointed look. "What was that about?" you whisper, nodding toward Chris, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with the Arthurs, laughing about something.

George shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just guy talk."

You give him a look. "Tell me."

"Really, it was nothing," he insists.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Fine, whatever, don’t tell me. I need to get home anyway, it’s getting late."

George quickly checks the time on his phone. "It’s almost midnight. Why don’t you just sleep here?"

"I just wanna be back in my own bed. At midnight is not that late, and I barely live like a 15 min walk away," you explain to him.

"You can just as easily walk home in the morning," he says.

Before you can protest, he continues, "You know what, fine. But I don’t want you going home alone." He turns toward the kitchen and shouts, "Chris! Do you mind driving Y/N back home? I would do it myself…but can’t drive mate."

Chris whips around, looking between the two of you, clearly flustered at George’s request. "Uh, sure, no problem."

You quickly interject, "It's okay, I can get home on my own. I don’t want to trouble you."

Chris clears his throat. "It's no trouble," he assures you, grabbing his keys. "Let's go."

You grab your stuff and walk out the door with him. The ride down in the elevator is silent. You play with your nails, trying to avoid his gaze, while he shifts uncomfortably beside you. When you reach the car, Chris opens the door for you, and you thank him. "Thanks, Chris."

"Don’t thank me yet," he jokes as you both buckle up. "I’ve only had my UK license for a month now, so we’ll see how this goes."

You look at him, slightly alarmed. "Seriously? Get me out of the car."

He laughs, and you join in. "I know how to drive, I just haven’t driven much since I moved to London."

Some of the tension eases, and you both relax a bit. He hands you his phone. "Can you enter your address into the GPS?"

You do, and as he starts driving Chris glances at you, "So, why did you move to London?"

You smile, happy to have a conversation starter. "Work, mostly. And also ‘cause I have friends here.”

He nods. “So, you liking London so far?”

You nod, looking at him as you speak. “Yeah, I like it. But the city gets overwhelming sometimes. Sometimes I just wanna run back home.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Same, especially when I miss my family. And I get it, sometimes you need to get away from George.”

You chuckle, wanting to keep the conversation going. “Be honest with me… how have you not killed him yet?”

He laughs, responding, “I won’t lie, I’ve plotted his murder many a times.”

You both laugh, and the conversation continues, light-hearted and easy. For the first time in like a month, the conversation between you two feels natural. And before you know it, you’d reached your apartment.

"Thanks for the ride, Chris," you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"No problem," he replies, his smile genuine. The air goes silent as you both stare at each other.

"Umm... goodnight," you say, quickly getting out of the car, feeling a tad bit awkward.

"Goodnight," he responds, and you gently close the door.

He waits until you're inside the building before driving off, and for the first time, you feel a warm, hopeful sensation in your chest and you can’t seem to wipe away the smile on your face the whole way up to your flat.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next day, you and George meet for dinner after you’re done with work. “I can’t believe he’s engaged”, you say as you move your food around on your plate, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Why do you care?” George asks between bites of his burger. “You hated him by the end of your relationship.”

“I know, but why does someone like him get to be happy?” you sighed. “I’m just tired of being single. Why is it so hard to find someone half decent?”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,” George says, trying to sound all philosophical.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”

He shrugs, laughing as he says, “Maybe you should date Chris.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Chris? Really? Chris? We can barely hold a conversation!”

George smirks. “Didn’t you say you guys got along fine last night? And don’t get me started on drinks last month. And don’t lie to me…you think he’s hot,” he says, making a fake gag face.

“What? No, I don’t,” you protest. “I might be desperate, George, but not desperate enough to date your friends.”

“What’s wrong with dating one of my friends?” George mocks hurt.

“I was kinda hoping that once I got a boyfriend, I just wouldn’t have to see you anymore,” you joke.

George clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch!”

The drive with him the other day was fine, more than fine and he was kind of sweet actually. You laugh, but the thought of dating Chris stays on your mind, an idea that you might not be all that opposed to. -------⋆✧⋆-------

A week had passed since your conversation with George, and despite trying not to let it affect you too much, you couldn't deny still feeling on cloud nine after that drive with Chris (even if it was barely 10 minutes long).

You and Chris were now following each other on social media. You'd occasionally chat or reply to each other's stories, gradually warming up to each other. You found yourself craving more time alone with him, curious about what it would be like to get to know him better.

But right now, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend in, finally getting to that book you had been putting off for weeks now. With a cozy blanket wrapped around you and a hot cup of tea, you settle onto your couch, eager to dive into your book.

Just as you start to get lost in the pages, a notification pops up on your screen. You peek over at your phone and see a text message from George.

George: Hello best friend Y/N: What do you want? George: Wow. Warm welcome Y/N: Fine. Hiii Georgieeee….What do you want? George: So you know how you are the smartest, strongest person I know 🥺 Y/N: Just spit it out 🙄 George: Can you please come over and help me build that dresser I ordered for my room? Y/N: And there it is... George: So..? Y/N: No, don’t want to. George: Pleaseeeeee….I’ll buy you food Y/N: No George: Come on, please 😩 Y/N: No….you’re gonna make me do all the work George: I won’t...and I’ll throw in dessert Y/N: You’re impossible George: 👀 Y/N: Fine….See you in 10 George: 🫡🙇

With a sigh, you set your book aside and started getting ready to head over to George's place. Not bothering to change out of your comfy sweats, you threw on a jacket and made your way out.

When you arrived at George's flat, you knocked on the door and waited. To your surprise, Chris answered, looking equally surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/N. What are you doing here?"

“George asked me to come over, said he needed help building his dresser”, you explain, and Chris steps aside, letting you step inside.

Chris says, “Hmm, he asked me to help as well, after complaining for a straight 5 mins about not wanting to do it on his own.”

"That little bitch," you huffed, pulling out your phone from your pocket.

Y/N: Where the fuck are you!!??? George: Sorry emergency Y/N: What? George: Please help a guy out Y/n: Why!? It’s your dresser! George: Chris will help Y/N: Wait George: Bye

You breathed out in frustration, realizing all too well what George was trying to do. Deep down, though, you were somewhat glad to have some time alone with Chris. Fingers crossed you'd be able to hold a conversation today.

You huffed and shoved your phone in your pocket, then turned to face Chris. "Yep, he's ditched us, the bastard," you said, looking back up at Chris who was watching you with an amused expression.

Chris chuckled, and you felt a bit self-conscious. "What?"

"The Powerpuff Girls?" he asked, a small smile curling up on his lips.

"What? I'm here to build furniture, not walk a red carpet," you replied, glancing down at your pajamas, trying to appear nonchalant but secretly cursing yourself for not dressing better. Chris just laughed, shaking his head.

“Great…it’s just the two of us." you said, catching Chris's attention as he looked at the unpacked table pieces that George had left for you.

Chris raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. "You act like it's a bad thing."

You chuckled, picking up a screwdriver. "Let's just survive this project together first."

"Survive? Geez…It's just an Ikea dresser," Chris teased, walking towards the scattered pieces.

"Yeah, but have you ever tried assembling furniture with George? He pulls everything out of the box, doesn’t organize anything by the way, then he just gives up and leaves you to figure stuff out," you vented, holding up a loose screw you found on the floor a good distance from the table for emphasis.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Can't say that I have. Lucky for me you’re here to pick up the pieces," he joked lamely, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh at his attempt.

"Let’s just build this stupid thing," you said, walking towards the mess.

Chris chuckled. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, looking around for the instruction manual.

Chris sighed in frustration, looking through the jumbled pieces. "Damn, where did George put those instructions?"

"Knowing George, he probably already threw out the instructions with the outer box," you said, half-jokingly. You fear you might be right, shuffling through everything and not finding the booklet.

You sit on the ground and try to organize the pieces, placing everything into neat piles. Chris picked up a piece and moved to place it in what he thought was the right pile.

"No, not that one," you said, pointing to a different pile. "Put that there."

Chris chuckled. "You're a little type A, aren't you?"

You grinned. "That's not the insult you think it is." You laughed lightly, enjoying the banter.

The two of you get on with trying to put the piece of furniture together.

Chris was completely engrossed in screwing in the legs, his brow furrowed in concentration. You couldn’t help but notice how his features hardened with determination, and you find him extremely attractive in this moment.

"You're really into this," you teased lightly, nudging him with your elbow as you passed him the next piece.

Chris glanced up, a playful glint in his eye. "Of course. Gotta impress you with my handyman skills."

You chuckled, kneeling down to align a set of screws. "Impress me, huh? Well, if you can get through this without instructions, color me impressed."

“Prepare to be amazed, Y/N,” Chris replied with a grin, returning to his task.

Your eyes involuntarily lingered on his arms, noticing how his t-shirt hugged his muscles snugly. You found yourself imagining running your hands across his arms and over his chest, remembering how you felt that night when inhibitions were lower.

Chris's voice snapped you out of your daze. "Sorry, what was that?" you asked, needing him to repeat his words.

"No, I was just…" Chris paused for a moment, sitting on the floor, pausing the task at hand. He hesitated as he looked up at you.

"Go on, what is it?" you encouraged him, curious about his question.

He started cautiously, "I've always wondered, why did you and George never date?"

You laughed softly, surprised by the question. “George? I don’t know, it’s just something that never happened. I don't even think either of us ever even considered our relationship to go that way”

Chris gives you a skeptical look, "Really? Not even once?"

"Not even once," you confirmed, shaking your head. "George and I have always been more like siblings."

Chris nodded softly, as if processing your answer. "Good to know."

Though slightly taken aback by his reaction, you chose not to dwell on it for too long.

“How did your shoot go this week?” you ask him.

Chris perks up a little, clearly pleased by your interest. "Oh, it was great! But it did go a lot longer than usual. I'll blame that on Arthur and his terrible football skills. But the audience will never find out. I should probably pay my editors more for making him look somewhat competent at football."

You both laugh, and Chris continues to talk about YouTube and some of his ideas. You can't help but smile at how passionate and happy he sounds when he talks about his work.

After a while, you two pull yourselves out of the conversation and get back to finishing the dresser.

"So, if you had to rate my IKEA furniture-building skills, what would you give me?" Chris asks, a playful grin on his face as the two of you now sit on the couch.

"Hmm," you ponder, pretending to be deep in thought. "Solid seven."

"Seven!?" Chris asks, feigning outrage, leaning in a little closer. "I thought I did pretty good."

"It would be higher, but you get distracted easily," you tell him, the space between you and Chris now barely a breath.

"Well, you were the one distracting me," Chris says, and you're taken aback by his comment. Your mouth falls slightly open, suddenly very aware of the proximity between you two.

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and George walks in, looking between the two of you with a mischievous grin. "Well, you two seem to be getting along well." You quickly get up from your place next to Chris.

You stare back blankly at George, arms crossed over your chest. "How was your... emergency?"

George's grin widens. "All sorted," he replies nonchalantly, before turning around to enter his room. "So which one of you is gonna help me move the dresser into my room?"

You and Chris exchange annoyed looks, then smile at each other, his smile exceedingly tugging at your heart, before you both scream, "Do it yourself!"

-------⋆✧⋆-------

Over the next few weeks, you and Chris had become friends, finding yourself spending time with him more often. You still couldn’t believe that just a few months ago you two couldn’t even look each other in the eye.

However, it seemed like every time you made plans with George or any of his friends, Chris was always there, and you two would magically end up alone together. You didn't think much of it, knowing that as much as you loved George, you hated him meddling in your love life, and he knew that as well. So, there’s no way he was involved, right? (Or maybe, deep down, you hoped that all the time you’ve been able to spend with Chris was somewhat of a sign and not your nosy best friend getting involved.)

You were at George’s place yet again (where else could you be? You only had like two friends) and helping him clean out his closet, stuffing his old clothes into donation boxes.

Slyly, you asked, “Where are the rest of your flatmates?”

George replied, “You know…they’re around,” without making eye contact, his back turned to you.

“And Chris?” you asked, slightly hopeful.

George looked up at you, almost as if he was wishing that you hadn’t asked that question.

You caught his expression, furrowing your eyebrows in worry. “What’s wrong?”

George placed the T-shirt he was folding gently into the box before turning to look at you. “Okay, so don’t get upset.”

“Why would I get upset?” you asked, a little concerned.

“Before I tell you, know that I told him not to do it,” George started.

“George... speak,” you demanded, poking him in the chest.

“Chris is out on a date,” he finally said.

You feel your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach, “Oh, good for him.”

George looked at you, clearly noticing your attempt to hide your disappointment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” you said, trying to brush it off and distract yourself by placing more clothes into the box.

“Y/N, come on. You really don’t think I know you better than you know yourself?” he looked at you matter-of-factly and you were struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m fine, George,” you tell him, trying to get him to drop the topic, but he only looks at you like he doesn't believe you.

“Y/N. I know you like Chris”, he states and you feel your whole body freeze.

“What? No, I don’t,” you retorted, and honestly, even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/N—”

“George—”

“I see the way you look at him, Y/N, and when he speaks, you hang on his every word,” he interrupts you.

“George, no... Chris and I, we’re just barely friends,” you try to explain to him.

“I know you two had a rocky start, well, a drunk and touchy start,” he teased, dodging the T-shirt you threw at him, “but you’ve grown closer over the past few months and I think you’re just in denial about your feelings. Plus you look like you wanna jump him every time you look at him.”

You sat there on the edge of the bed for a minute, thinking about what George had said. Yes, things were a little iffy at the start, but you had grown to like his company. He was funny, quite sweet, and in recent times, easy to talk to. Not to mention, every time you looked at the man, it was like your brain short-circuited at how hot he looked.

George carefully considered his words before continuing. “You’ve always been like this, Y/N…cautious.”

As his words sank in, it dawned on you.

“Holy fuck, George! I like Chris,” you exclaimed, falling back onto the bed. “How did this happen? I feel like I’ve gone insane. When did I become so blind to my own feelings?”

George watched you in amusement, a small smile playing on his lips. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

“But–-,” you sat up, turning to George who was now sitting on the opposite corner of the bed, “there’s no way he likes me back.”

“Eh?” George responded, confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Because the guy is literally on a date right now,” you say, exasperated.

“So?”

“What do you mean, “So”? If he liked me even a little bit, he wouldn’t be going on dates,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“Probably because he doesn’t know you like him. Just tell the guy,” he suggests, his face soft, laced with concern.

“I can’t do that,” you look at him, your voice coming out almost broken.

“Why?” George comes to sit next to you, placing a comforting hand on your back.

You take a deep breath before you continue, “Because things just got somewhat good with him. We’re finally past that awkward phase and are friends now. I don’t want to go back to that cold phase when he ultimately rejects me.”

“He’s not gonna reject you, Y/N,” he says, throwing his arm around, pulling you into his side.

“How do you know?” you look up at him.

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N, just tell the guy how you feel.” he says, as he pulls away from you so that you’re both now facing each other.

“No, I can’t do that,” you said, getting up off his bed and heading out of his bedroom.

“What, Y/N! Where are you going?” he asked, following you.

“Home,” you said, making a beeline for the door.

“Why?"

“So that I can go to bed and wake up and forget about all of this,” you said looking back at him, hand now on the door knob.

“Y/N…”

“Bye, George,” you said, before opening the main door and closing it behind you, confusion and uncertainty swirling in your head.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

“Here,” Arthur Hill handed you a drink, and you threw him a quick thanks, quickly gulping down the liquid. Arthur looked at you, concerned. The party was lively around you, the usual chaos of a house party at George’s place.

George had convinced you to come to the party, saying it’d be a good distraction, to get your mind off of things—things being Chris.

George had promised you that Chris was busy tonight and wouldn’t be here, so you reluctantly agreed (though George had to beg a lot more than he was hoping he’d have to).

You had only arrived a few minutes ago, and you already wanted to leave. You just wanted the peace and quiet of your room to contemplate about your doomed love life and drown your sorrows in a pint of ice cream.

“You okay?” Arthur asked, pulling you out of your daze. “You look distracted.”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a half-hearted smile and you were grateful that Arthur didn’t push any further.

"I'm gonna get myself another drink," you said, and Arthur nodded in response before you navigated through the crowd toward the kitchen.

You made yourself a drink, pouring whatever bottle of alcohol was closest to your reach into your cup, wanting something strong. If you couldn’t drown yourself in ice cream, alcohol would have to do. (Not your smartest idea, but oh well.)

You took a sip of your concoction, the liquid burning as it flowed down your throat. You turned around but just as you were about to head back to find Arthur, when you spotted him. Chris.

He was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. How did he manage to get even hotter than the last time you’d seen him? (Honestly, it was torture.)

But there he was, talking to some girl you’d never seen before. The sight felt like a punch in the stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs. All you wanted to do was leave. You placed your drink on the counter and set your sights straight at the door. In your haste, you didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings and bumped into someone. Looking up, you saw it was George.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" George asked, blocking your path.

"George, I need to leave," you said, trying to sidestep him.

“Why? What happened?” he asked, but before you could answer, he glanced over your shoulder and saw Chris. “Oh, I see.”

“Just talk to him, Y/N,” he tried to persuade you. “Whatever the outcome, it’ll make you feel better.”

“George, are you crazy? I can’t” You looked up at him, and the vulnerable look in your eyes made his heart break.

“Fine, but please don’t leave. Just take a breather for a minute. You should at least stay and enjoy the party,” he insisted. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “Just stay in my room for a bit. You can come back out after a while.”

You agreed, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and turned towards his room. “Good,” he said, pushing you gently by the shoulders.

Once you were in his room, you turned to look at him. “Now stay put, I’ll be right back.” You nodded, and he headed back out of the room.

You took a seat on his bed, and before you knew it, you heard the door open. Expecting to see George, you froze when you found Chris instead.

“George, what are you doing?” Chris protested as George pushed him into the room. “Stop, bro!”

You got up and shout, “George! What the hell?”

“You two talk,” George said, pointing at both of you before quickly shutting the door. You heard the lock click.

You rushed to the door, trying to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. “Bastard locked us in,” you said to Chris.

“George! Let me out!” you protested, banging on the door.

“Not until you two talk to each other,” George yelled back.

You turned to find Chris looking just as surprised as you. “Well, this is awkward,” Chris said, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I might be wrong...but I think George wants us to talk.”

You sighed, leaning against the door. “Yeah, he’s a lot of things… but subtle, he is not.”

Chris chuckled. “What gave it away?”

Your suspicions were right. That motherfucker had been playing you this whole time, getting Chris to drive you home, finding ways to get the two of you to spend time alone, locking you in his room. And you’d walked right into it. Idiot.

“That slimy little shithole,” you muttered to yourself.

You laughed out loud. “So George seems to think we would make a good match.”

“What?” Chris said, looking nervous.

“Did you not realize?” You looked at Chris, and he was staring at you with an unrecognizable look on his face.

“Well…” he started sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I kind of knew.”

“What do you mean you knew, Chris?” you asked, confused.

“I mean, I knew George was trying to set us up, he sort of told me he would, that day that you were over at our place for movie night.” he admitted.

“I’m sorry…?” you ask him again, arms crossed.

You raised an eyebrow. “And you were okay with it? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Chris sighed. “I promise, I told him not to! And I just didn’t know how to bring it up..... But honestly, I didn’t mind. I liked spending time with you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What? You liked spending time with me?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve kind of liked you since the day we first met in the pub.”

“But that was months ago,” you said, incredulous. “Why didn't you say anything till now?”

He sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes. “I don’t know. All I know is that every time I look at you, it’s like the words leave my mouth. Of course, I wanted to talk to you after that night, but I didn’t know what came over me every time. You’re literally the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid my eyes on, and each time I wanted to ask you out, I’d choke up.” “But what about that date?” you asked, trying to process everything. “If you liked me so much, then why did you go on a date?”

Chris looked a little guilty. “George told you about that?” You nodded before he continued, “You can’t blame a guy for trying to move on, especially when a girl like you couldn’t possibly like me back,” he said softly.

You shook your head. “Chris, I… I’ve liked you too. I think I’ve liked you the whole time. But I didn’t think you did, especially after how everything was after we got drunk that night.”

Chris stepped closer, hope in his eyes. “You like me too?” he asked again, making sure he wasn’t wrong about what he heard.

“Yes, Chris, I like you too,” you responded.

“So we’re both hopeless in the love department?” he asked.

“Yep, looks like it,” you said, laughing. “So hopeless that we needed Cupid Clarkey to get us to finally admit our feelings.”

You both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Chris stopped to look at you, stepping even closer. “God, I love your laugh,” he said softly, and you looked at him shyly.

“And you have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen,” you stepped closer as well and he flashes that gorgeous smile of his, the kind that gets your stomach in knots.

He said, “You know, I regret nothing from that night.”

You replied teasingly, “Really?”

He nodded, “Well, there’s only one thing I regret.”

You asked, “And what’s that?”

He said, “That I didn’t get to kiss you,” as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes go dark and intense, piercing into your soul.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” you whispered, and with that, Chris crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was everything you’d dreamed of and more. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, while your arms made their way around his neck and your hand tangling into those perfect curls of his, tugging slightly, earning a groan from him.

The kiss was filled with so much emotion, both of you pouring everything into it—all the pent-up feelings from the past months. It was intense, and full of passion and tenderness, leaving you breathless. You could feel his heart pounding in sync with yours, the heat between you two electrifying. It was as if the world had melted away, and there was nothing but this moment.

Chris pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips. “Me too.”

Before either of you could say anything else, you heard a slight thud outside the door. Chris gave you a knowing look, and you raised your voice intentionally louder. “Well, George’s bed looks nice doesn’t it? I think he just put new sheets on.”

Chris chimes up, “Maybe we should use it. We’re locked in here anyways. Might as well make the most of our time.”

Immediately, you heard George unlocking the door, bursting into the room. “Okay, get out, both of you. I don’t want you two fucking on my bed.”

You and Chris burst into laughter. Chris scooped you up playfully and ran off to his bedroom, shutting the door behind you two.

Once you were in his room, he slowly placed you on the ground, then pulled you onto his lap as he sat at the edge of the bed.

“So... I think I should ask you properly,” he said, looking up at you.

Chris leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Now that you know how I feel about you, what do you say we give this a shot? Will you go out with me?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “I’d like that, Chris.” and he flashed you a smile.

“We really should be thanking George,” he said.

“Yeah, normally I hate him meddling, but this time I don’t mind. But please don't tell him that, or I'll never here the end of it,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Chris grinned. Forget about it then, I just want to kiss you again.”

You laughed, and with that, you closed the distance again, letting yourself melt into his touch. The feeling of his soft lips sent a shiver down your spine.

This moment felt perfect, like you fit together in a way that was always meant to be. His arms wrapped around you securely, pulling you closer, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours. You hated to admit it, but George playing cupid had turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to you and Chris.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bonus Fun Facts (cannon to this AU):

- George did find your drunk closeness to Chris disgusting, but he didn't really care if you snogged his friend or not. He pulled you off of Chris more out of fear of what you would do to him if he let you make any drunken mistakes while he was around. - During your conversation after movie night, George realized that Chris had a crush on you. - He and Chris disappeared off onto the balcony and he managed to get Chris to fess up that he was in fact into you. - George said he'd gladly meddle. Chris told him not to meddle. George meddled. - He knew you two hopeless idiots would not give each other a chance without a gentle push in the right direction. - George did in fact tell Chris not to go on the date, bringing up his crush on you. - Chris said that he was sure that there was no way you liked him and that you had not shown any interest in him. He did not want to make you uncomfortable by making a move on you so he decided to try and forget about his crush. - Could George just have told you that Chris liked you...yes? But did he instead choose to play cupid for his own amusement, of course he did. - Plus you hadn't explicitly told him that you liked Chris and he didn't want to dump that news on you. But then he realized that you were too thick when it came to your own feelings..so he did just dump it on you. - George realized he had to kick his matchmaking skills up to a 100 (and yes his best idea was locking you to in a room). - Of course he eavesdropped, and the next morning he did in fact not let you hear the end of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back. Also tell me if you liked the bonus facts in the end. I realized that there were things I wanted to include that I didn't want to put into the main fic, so I just threw them in at the end. I personally like it, so I think I'm going to start throwing them into my fics from now on.

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

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g-xix · 10 months

Text

Chaos Crew MASTERLIST

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ: ᴀʀᴛʜᴜʀᴛᴠ, ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ᴄʟᴀʀᴋᴇʏ, ᴀʀᴛʜᴜʀ ʜɪʟʟ, ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴍᴅ, ᴀʟᴇx ᴇʟᴍꜱʟɪᴇ, ᴄᴀᴍ ᴋɪʀᴋʜᴀᴍ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛᴀʟɪᴀɴʙᴀᴄʜ!

☁️= fluff, 🔞= smut, 💢 = angst

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! Send litr anything in thru the inbox n i'll write it (or not)... No promises it'll be done any time soon tho :DD

Arthur ATV Frederick

☁️"Pub golf forfeit" - Chippo catches wind of your little YouTube crush on ArthurTV and decides to put you in a team with him to try and set you up- but when Harry, Chris and the rest of the boys do their best to embarrass you in front of your crush, how will the night really end as you fight the cameras, pints and awful pub gold forfeit cards... | ChrisMD half-sister!OC x ATV

💢☁️"Caught" - Months of sneaking around behind your brother's back with his best friend gets exposed as you and Arthur get a bit too careless and get yourselves CAUGHT...

📸Zesty University ATV

🔞"Submissive" - pwp (porn w/out plot), desperate, whiny, sub!Arthur x dom!reader

☁️Head Scritches" - Short 800 word blurb of Arthur just kinda realising that he likes the feeling of your hands between his hair a lot.

🔞"Locked In" - Xtra long 7.3k word smutshot set in S3 locked in house. Y/n is set the strenuous task of ignoring Arthur all day by Sugarlips - yet when Arthur realises this, he does everything in his power to break her... Will you successfully pass your challenge or succumb to Arthur's antics?

🔞"Eating Out HC's" - headcanons of what the Chaos crew would be like giving head

☁️"Return from Sri Lanka" -inspired by Chip's Sri Lanka vids w ATV, a hyper-fluff oneshot of what it's like for gf!reader, seeing Arthur after a whole week of being apart

"Harry Potter x Chaos Crew HC's" - what these goofies would be like in a Harry Potter/Hogwarts Alternate Universe ✨

🔞"SuperMilker3000" - don't be scared by the title. Silly lil 800 word drabble on using a toy w Arthur... taken from my ArthurTV NSFW alphabet that's currently in the works!

📸ATV getting zesty w G Clarkey in a Camden Bar

🔞"Same Time." - when stranded in a little village after a platform roulette with George Clarkey n ArthurTV leads to all three of you sharing a hotel room with one bed and loosened inhibitions... xtra long 6.1k wordcount and very smutty.

🔞"ArthurTV NSFW Alphabet"

📸ATV n G Clarkey Nasty Girl TikTok

🔞"Boxer" - In which Arthur has a certain predilection for the coach's daughter who is subsequently the first aid woman that drives him feral, especially after a boxing match whereby he's got a lot of pent up testosterone to take out...

Chris Chrismd Dixon

🔞"ChrisMD NSFW alphabet"

🔞"Threesome" - W2s x reader x ChrisMD in a post-pub drunken mess of horny brains and hard cocks

🔞"Eating Out HC's" - headcanons of what the Chaos crew would be like giving head

🔞"Piercings" - in which gf!reader gets nipple piercings as a surprise for Chris, which leaves Chris battling his inner demons and resisting all urges to pull or touch those sensitive buds to see you scream whilst he pounds you | part of [KINKTOBER]

"Harry Potter x Chaos Crew HC's" - what these goofies would be like in a Harry Potter/Hogwarts Alternate Universe ✨

☁️💢"Gone, Gone/iloveyou" - Sharing the sadness that comes with your best friend, first love, absolute world, leaving you <3 (tw: mildly cringe if u dont deep it)

☁️🔞"Señor Frogs HCs" - Inspired by Señor Frogs driving team getting their first podium: headcanons of what it'd be like returning to each of the drivers as gf!reader after each of their stints.

Cam Kirkham

<tbc!>

Arthur Hill

🔞"Eating Out HC's" - headcanons of what the Chaos crew would be like giving head

"Harry Potter x Chaos Crew HC's" - what these goofies would be like in a Harry Potter/Hogwarts Alternate Universe ✨

George Clarkey

🔞"Rodeo Ride" - Something about George riding that bull machine at the pub just looks so sinful, and the alcohol gives you an extra buzz of confidence when you're talking to him afterwards, leading to a good night with George...

☁️"Nights out" - Just a plain, fluffy cuddles n kisses style oneshot reflecting on what it'd be like when George came home after a night out- a huggy, touchy drunk bf ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

☁️"Christmas Imagines" - A note-form story of getting Christmas decorations out and celebrating alongside boyfriend!George... V fluffy and wholesome :)

☁️ "Snow!" - Friends to lovers, featuring ATV, ChrisMD, WillNE, Mia, Immallexx, Alice, Cam n Chloe all celebrating in the apartment when the snow starts covering the London streets which they race down to play in. Super fluffy G Clarkey x y/n festive Winter vibes

🔞"Eating Out HC's" - headcanons of what the Chaos crew would be like giving head

"Harry Potter x Chaos Crew HC's" - what these goofies would be like in a Harry Potter/Hogwarts Alternate Universe ✨

📸ATV getting zesty w G Clarkey in a Camden Bar

🔞"Hate Sex" - basically porn w/out plot, in which you hate George Clarkey yet somehow end up with him between your legs, fucking you like he's your worst enemy.

📸ATV n G Clarkey Nasty Girl TikTok

☁️"George Clarkey Crying HC's"

Isaac ItalianBach Smith

<tbc!>

ALL!! - silly little drabbles

"Chaos Crew as lawyers" "Chaos Crew on a Roadtrip" "Chaos Crew Cooking" "Chaos Crew as good mornings" "Do they kiss the homies goodnight?"

Cutesy lil platform roulette moments (1),(2),(3)

POLL: Which of the Chaos Crew do the masses wanna see more written for?

looking for someone you can't find?

Head back to the main masterlist to check out the other masterlists to see if the person you're looking for is there! Don't be scared to send a message via DMs or thru the inbox if you need any help xx

p.s. Customise which Oneshots YOU want to be tagged in by submitting your preferences on THIS GOOGLE FORM!

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lazyneonrabbitt · 7 months

Text

Hunters Ink

Tattoo artist!Daryl Dixon x Reader

One tattoo leads to many more when you fall head over heels with the artist.

You made your way into the shop, quickly engulfed in old rock music and the buzz of machines. The place was packed.

An older bald man welcomed you, a bright smile on his face after he had notified his client. "What can I help ya with, sweetheart?"

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to go about things. "I'd like to get a tattoo."

The man gave you a soft laugh. "Well tha's a given, why else walk into our shop, huh? Now, you got a picture withya, or do ya need sum time to look around fer inspiration?" He motioned around and pointed at the walls adorned with designs.

"I brought something" You fished in your bag for the piece of paper that held the print of a dog's paw.

The man took in the print and called someone else over.

"Daryl! C'mere, this one's yer business." When he turned back to you his voice went softer. "Mah brother does what ya want, my style ain't good fer the lil' details. He'll take over, yeah?"

He handed your paper over to his brother, who looked it over. "Where d'ya wan' it?" You went over all the basic details, where, how big and if you had any other tattoos already. You shared the reasons behind the pawprint and got a couple of placement suggestions before deciding you wanted the piece on your lower arm.

The appointment was quickly made and you left with Daryl's artist card and a warm feeling inside.

The day of the appointment came up quick and you made sure to follow the advice you were given. You had a good meal beforehand and brought some sugary sweets and drinks with you.

"C'mon over, cutie. Got yer paw ready for ya." Daryl came to collect you after you hadn't moved when he called you.

"I got the whole day for ya, so we'll go at your pace, yeah?" His gravely voice was so calming, it really helped with the first tattoo nerves.

"Thanks, really appriciate it." You gave him a sweet smile as you watched him cut different sizes of your tattoo and asked for your hand. "Let's see which size looks best."

Daryl held the guessed sizes to the chosen spot on your arm. "I think the second one?" He took it and held it to your arm once again at your decision and after taking it in you decided it was good.

"Aight, go sit and I'll get it ready for ya." You followed his every move as he talked through the whole stencil making process and came back to you.

With minimal peach fuzz removal and proper cleaning the stencil was on your arm and you were admiring the idea of what it would look like when it was done.

You were ready to go.

Daryl's touches were featherlight, so precise and focused you were almost scared to speak from the moment he held tour wrist to place your arm on the stand beside the chair.

"M'gonna start, do a lil' line ta see how ya handle it." He rubbed something on the stenciled skin and moved the buzzing, inked up machine to your skin, keeping and eye on you as well but you barely gave a kick when he drew the first line.

Daryl gave you a proud smile and went to work. "Ya can ask ta tap out anytime, need ta keep ya as comforable as possible."

You watched his hands work your skin. The way the muscles in his arms tensed at every precise movement and the way his hair was tied back for the work was hypnotising to see. The outline was done before you knew it with how distracted you were by his own large collection of ink.

"How'r ya holdin' up? S'not so bad ain't it?" He came back with a glass of soda for you to give you both a little break.

You admired your arm, the skin all red from the scraping but it didn't hurt that bad. "I'm good." You started, giving yourself a moment to form a sentence. "You're so.. so much softer than you look?" God what were you saying? That was nowhere near a compliment.

"Ya thought we're all as loud as Merle? Loud music, loud angry mouth?" You shyly nodded as his correct assumption. He was being so sweet to you, making sure you were still good every few moments and it warmed your heart to know such kind people were still around. You just didn't think they looked like that.

With the way his heavy boots stomped through the room and the chains on his pants jingled with each step you'd expected short, snappy answers and the all black attire didn't feel welcoming at all before.

But now as you stared at him while he was answering a phone call you couldn't help but let your mind wander off.

You were mesmerised with the ink covering his throat, the wings that followed the natural lines of his body almost perfectly, and every other piece that disappeared into the neckline of his shirt. Even the nude lady laying over the top end of a knife on his lower arm was pretty to you, and you never though the silouhette of roadkill would hold your attention like it did.

"Didn't your mama ever teach ya it's rude ta stare?" You were so deep in thought you hadn't heard the door bell jingle when Merle came waltzing in. His voice pulled you from your daydreaming so fast you got embarrassed. With your head ducked down you glanced over at Daryl who was still on the phone, but he did look back at you with a smile and winked at you. He flipped off his brother with his free hand and went back to writing on a scrap piece of paper and ending the call.

"Ya see me on the phone from outside the window and ya still come in like tha'?"

Merle only laughed and went over to his station to set up for the day. Their back and forth bickering kept up for a bit but it didn't bother you with Daryl smiling through all of his comebacks.

"Darlene, when will ya learn it's still mah own shop, so I can do whatever the hell I want." Merle was at the printer, reading his client's designs while Daryl wiped the excess ink off your skin. "Your shop? Aight how 'bout ya start doin' all the supply orders too, then. Watch ya run outta paper towels halfway into a client's piece."

Merle only yammered some insult in return and went back to working in silence.

Now that his brother was finally quiet again Daryl could continue working without interuptions, having constatly removed the machine from your skin as he replied to the conversation.

A couple of times you thought he was done when he went to move away, but eaxh time it was small top ups and detailing, making sure all the small lines of fur were copied over from the stamped pawprint of your dearest friend were copied over onto your body.

"Ya still like me after today?" He was cleaning up his station while you were admiring his work in the mirror and saw him smile at you in a way that had your stomach do a flip in the best way, already thinking up a next piece so you could come back.

"Ofcourse I still like you! You got me exactly what I wanted, thankyou." You were back at his station, letting him clean your arm for the last time with his gentle touches, but not without a soft "Sorry." before wiping away the excess fluids and wrapping it up for you.

"I'll give ya this, tells ya how ta care fer new ink. And this, on the house." You accepted the paper and aftercare creme and made your payment before you shared goodbyes and you went on your way.

As planned you came back to the shop four weeks later to show the healed piece, not needing any touch ups and getting compliments on taking good care of it.

Instead of heading out immedately you stuck around, looking at the walls until Daryl's voice caught your attention. "Ya wanna ask somethin'?"

You looked at him before averting your gaze again, somehow feeling it was wrong to already ask for a new tattoo. You heard Daryl chuckle. "Ya want somethin' new, dontcha? Tell me whatya got in mind."

He had stopped to lean over the front counter and gave you a knowing smile. "Ya were starin' at the animals, want one o'them?" He looked over and pointed at the frame that held a part of his flash designs and you carefully mentioned liking the rabbit, but not the overall dark theme of the collection.

"Lemme draw ya a pretty bunny and i'll send ya the picture, 'kay?" You immediately loved the idea. The way Daryl's animal desings held so much emotion had you excited he was designing one just for you. "Yeah, that would be amazing. A softer, maybe less dead bunny." You smiled whe he slid over a piece of paper that held your info he copied from your previous appointment, but the phone number section still open. "Fill tha' in for me? Fer the books."

Maybe it wasn't the smoothest way to ask for your number, but he had it now along with a reason to text you.

Not long after you got your bunny, then came some flowers added around it and eventually you were getting custom pieces drawn by Daryl every time you had some money to spend.

Ofcourse it wasn't all you. Daryl had figured out where you worked and made sure to leave you very generous tips to add to your tattoo funds, just so Merle wouldn't figure out you weren't paying full price anymore now that you were getting so close.

"No way he just left you that much--" your work bestie squinted at you as your gaze followed Daryl out the door after he had paid way too much and headed out. "Is he your boyfriend?" You looked at her with a frown and swatted her arm. "Shut up, oh my god we're just friends.."

The truth was, you were both too scared to ask the other out, so seeing each other at the shop and the lunch place was what kept you both close for now.

A/N: This took so much longer than I planned, I hope the hype for this one hasn't left yet!!

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl

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cultofdixon · 8 months

Text

Please don’t take my sunshine away

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Saviors War ended. Doesn’t mean vendettas don’t exist. The archer just wished those who hated him would fuck with him and not someone as important as you • ANGST/SFW • TW: Major injuries / Blood loss / Concussion / Discomfort

Requested by: Anon

“You are one impatient man when it comes to your other half”

Daryl brought his attention toward the front door where Maggie stood with a tired expression on her face with an equally tired infant in her arms.

“Sorry if me leavin’ woke you both”

“No no. Hershel was the one to wake me but that’s what you sign up for with babies” Maggie smiles at her son who finally relaxed in her embrace. “Now why are you up? Y/N is going to be here in the morning”

“That. That’s exactly why”

“Again, impatient” She laughs bringing herself to sit on the steps as Daryl pushes himself off the pillar to sit beside his friend. “She’ll get here when she’ll get here”

Nothing could go wrong.

It was starting to become unbearable. The waiting for his partner even if he was occupied for most of the day.

Daryl decided to take his bike out of the community for his break, thinking Y/N’s car must have run out of gas on the way over so he would bring one over. But before he even left, Siddiq stepped through the gates with Enid who’s shadowing him to become a medic. They were coming from Oceanside after doing check ups and the route from that community and Alexandra merge at a point when heading toward the Hilltop. So he could’ve seen anything on his way over.

“No, we didn’t see a car on the way over”

“There were a lot of walkers in a single spot that we took care of and it was just a dead deer.”

“So you really shouldn’t worry about Y/N” Siddiq instantly went to where Daryl was thinking as Enid nodded nervously.

“Yeah well she hasn’t turned up. I gotta head out there and see what’s happenin’.” Daryl got on his bike about to start it when Siddiq laid a hand on his shoulder giving him a worried look.

“I’ll get Maggie’s radio. Just in case”

Daryl nodded, gripping onto his radio subconsciously.

This isn’t right?

Eugene told me this car had its maintenance done. Why is it being like this?

Fuck—-FUCK, where are the breaks?!

Who messed with the brea——

Y/N flinched awake after the initial crash as she slowly lifted her head off the steering wheel feeling the throbbing stiff pain in her chest. Her ribs were broken. The pain wasn’t only there. Her whole body ached and given the shaking from the shock, so much more happened. The blood loss was getting to her, how long has she been out? She went to reach for her pack in the passengers only to notice the glass shards embedded in her right arm. Staring at what caused pain on one side of her resulted in a realization that she couldn’t feel her other arm. Before she could even try and touch it, her lungs constricted causing her to cough into her hand noticing the blood and that’s when the tears started.

She’s going to die out here.

Then it clicked to her. Where she crashed and how far she was from the Hilltop, it shouldn’t go unnoticed if Y/N pressed down on the horn. She tested it at first to make sure that the horn was still connected but then she remembered it’s not the old world. Walkers littered the earth and just from testing it could’ve triggered one over.

But the smallest test caught the archer’s attention as he drove near the sound and took out walkers nearby.

The honk was only once, and then suddenly consistent.

Daryl followed and killed the walkers near the sound as it came clear what happened…or at least why she didn’t show up…

Fuck fuck fuck Daryl quickly ran to the driver’s door after dropping his bike. He forced the door open seeing the damage for himself as he struggled to keep his composure.

She felt him gently bring herself against the seat to check her pulse and thankfully it was there for him.

The sound of the radio buzz caught Enid’s attention from their inventory re-check as she quickly grabs it.

“Hello? Daryl?” She says watching Siddiq turn around to face her and eye the radio.

“It’s bad. It’s really fucking bad”

“We’ll see you soon” Enid stopped pressing their radio tossing it onto the counter and quickly cleaning up what they were doing.

“Once you put that box away, go inform Maggie and Jesus. Maybe someone can shorten the walk over here and drive Y/N the rest of the way back. Then come back and help me set up for anything” Siddiq states watching Enid not even wait another moment and sprint out of the infirmary.

They managed to connect to somebody who was on their way to the Sanctuary. The quick detour to pick up the two was the only easy part. The driving with a pretty much broken person in the vehicle was one of the first few difficult things to handle.

“Maybe drive fucking smoother?!” Daryl snaps at the driver who was already trying his best not to hit any bumps along the way but it is a dirt road to Hilltop compared to the others.

The gates opened the second they heard the car pulling up. Jesus accompanied Siddiq and Enid with helping Y/N get to the medical trailer but Jesus was mainly there to block Daryl the second the two medics got their patient.

“You seriously gonna keep me from her?!”

“Do you even see yourself? She’s going to feel worse seeing all of her blood on your person”

“How the fuck would you know that?! She’s not even awa—-“ Both Daryl and Jesus turned toward the shout coming from the medical trailer as the archer didn’t hesitate to shove the skilled fighter out of his way.

When he entered, Y/N was awake and trying to get Siddiq’s assessing hands away from touching her injuries. Her hands shook when trying to shove him away as he couldn’t stop paying attention to her left arm that was barely moving. He directed Enid to pin her as he gently—as best as he could, grab her shoulder watching her retract her entire body resulting in another shout of pain to escape her. Daryl noticed they cut her shirt to access the injured better and saw the deep blue and purple bruising from her ribs breaking. He was frozen in place, everyone expected him to try and intervene but how could he? He doesn’t know how to handle these things.

Siddiq noticed his presence after a while and glared at the man along with it directed to Jesus. “Get him out of here!” He barked as Jesus quickly grabbed Daryl.

“Come on. Let them work” He struggled to pull Daryl away as he instantly broke out of his grasp stepping over to the situation.

“Jesus I told you—-“

“If I grabbed him now, who knows what you’ll need to fix next” Jesus snaps back only to turn his attention to the doorway when Maggie called out for him needing his assistance.

Daryl gently rest his hand on Y/N’s head causing her to turn her attention onto him. Tears spilled from her bruised blooded face as she couldn’t think of anything to say but she instantly relaxed the best she could given her body ached when Daryl started to shush her in a calming manner. When her body finally relaxed, Siddiq gave Enid a nod for the okay to start working on her while he got an IV in her arm.

“You’re doing great, sunshine…you’re doing great” Daryl whispers brushing away the hair in her face. He glances up noticing Siddiq’s hesitation in popping her shoulder back in place, but once they agreed through the silence. Daryl stood up holding her carefully but also pinning her.

“It will only last a few seconds. I’ll be quick”

“It’s gonna be alright” Daryl reassures Y/N as she watches Siddiq get to work with fixing the dislocation.

After popping her shoulder back into place, she passed out. It scared the few working on her but Siddiq reassured that it was from the shock subsiding and the blood loss of course. Which led Daryl to reveal he’s a universal donor to Siddiq when Enid went to give Maggie an update.

“Are you sure she’ll be okay with this?”

“No, but she needs it” Daryl sat down in the offered seat as Siddiq went ahead with preparing his arm.

“I won’t tell anyone else. I know why you’re doing it now but again—“

“Yeah I get it, Siddiq. Just…yeah hurry up” The archer looked away when he put the needle in, not because he’s squeamish but because this brought weird memories.

After doing the blood transfusion, Daryl stepped out for a moment applying pressure to his arm giving them time to stitch the deep gashes and finish with cleaning and bandaging. He noticed the truck that Rick normally drives being by the Barrington house and when he brought himself into the vicinity there was more than just Rick in the building.

“Daryl, just…the man we needed right now” Rick clears his throat avoiding his eyes as Maggie and Michonne’s worried expressions caught the archer’s attention.

“What happened?”

“We investigated further on what happened to your partner” Jesus started the conversation but no one wanted to say it.

Which easily drove Daryl nuts.

“Spit it out”

“Someone cut the brake wires to the vehicle Y/N was driving” Michonne stated watching him tense. “then when we asked around Alexandria—more specifically the recent Saviors we took in. One of them threatened Y/N before she left”

“And the Saviors aren’t all too bright. They didn’t want her to crash the car” Rick finishes handing Daryl the list of Saviors they are shipping out of Alexandria.

“They did that…expecting me to fucking drive the car and crash?”

“Knowing you, you would’ve been able to crash…safely. Regardless. We are moving those Saviors back to the Sanctuary and—-“

“That’s all you’re ever gonna do. My fucking partner, my WIFE, almost died because some fucking Saviors are still out for me. Or hell they wanted her dead so I would finish the fucking job that y’all didn’t do that night on the hill” Daryl scoffs stepping away from the conversation as Maggie cut through the group letting them take care of the situation for themselves.

“Daryl—-“

“Mags I’m sorry for bringin’ it up again. But I can’t listen to—-“

“You’re right” Maggie grabbed his shoulder making him stop and turn to her. “You didn’t say it but you’re right that their decision for handling this situation is wrong. They should’ve exiled them or worse. But can we at least focus on right now? Y/N is alive. Doing alright. And I’m recommending you both to live here until she’s well enough or hell. Permanently.”

“Y/N wouldn’t agree to the permanently thing. She spent too much time rebuilding our house…it’s just gonna take a while”

“I know and you both can spend that while, here. Or the Kingdom with Carol and Ezekiel. Literally anywhere until she’s ready to go back.”

Daryl didn’t have anymore words on the matter while his anxiety had a chokehold on him. Unexpectedly, the tears spilled as his thoughts raced and while Maggie had too many thoughts herself on the matter…she pushed them aside and brought her arms around her friend keeping him close as he latched onto her.

“She could’ve died…and left me all alone”

“You know she’s a fighter…you’re going to be stuck with her forever” Maggie laughs softly holding him for as long as he wanted.

Soon Daryl found himself seated beside Y/N’s gurney staring at every bandage, every bruise, her swollen face, and her arm strapped to her chest. He next focused on the rise and fall of her chest, afraid of the possible stop. But that never came and she was going to be okay…

“Hey…” Daryl smiles warmly gently kissing Y/N’s forehead as she had been asleep for three days since the accident. He stuck by her side the entire time for the moment she opened her eyes.

“Hi…” Y/N gave him a tired smile even with the bit of pain coursing through her, thank god the drugs helped with it. “You’re dumb”

“For?” He scoffs feeling her hand touch the bruise he got from the IV. “Yeah well, I ain’t losing yea so”

“Mm. Would’ve been out longer if you didn’t.” Y/N kept her hold on him for him to get the hint to sit on the edge of the bed letting her non-strapped arm rest in his lap feeling his hand rub up and down her arm gently. “Gonna take a lot to keep me out”

“Good” Daryl leaned over kissing her lips before pulling away to get one good look at her. “I love you…so much”

“Mm getting sappy, Dixon” She teases patting his leg as he took her hand into his squeezing it and bringing it up to his lips. “I love you, and I’m here. I’m alive. So stop worrying for right now…”

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

“Yes. For now” Daryl mumbles to himself as Y/N gave him a certain look that lead him to lifting her up enough for him to slip in beside her bringing her into his embrace.

She’s okay

She’s alive

And they are going to pay.

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

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