#daryl humor

[celtic-crossbow]

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Rick: Why is Y/N crying?

Carol: She’s drunk.

Rick: And?

Carol: She saw a picture of Daryl's wife.

Rick: But she’s Daryl's wife.

Carol: I know.

Rick: Where’s Daryl?

Carol: She kicked him out for cheating.

Carol, whispering: He went hunting.

[mymanreedus]

Daryl: panicking because he can't remember the ASL sign for sewer

Daryl: shit tunnel

Daryl: nailed it

[valyrou]

HEADSHOT!

[im-immortal]

A Kiss For A Drink a beth greene/daryl dixon Valentine’s Day one-shot

Beth Greene finds herself stood up for a date on Valentine's Day. However, just when she thinks the whole day has gone to hell, she runs into an acquaintance, Daryl Dixon.

After a couple drinks, a clever little plan pops into her head. And Daryl turns out to be the perfect accomplice.

He noticed and asked, “‘S a matter? Lose somethin’?”

She frowned, scooting her chair back a bit as her eyes darted all over the floor. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “My earring.”

Without hesitation, he scooted his chair back as well and began searching the floor. A second later, he pointed down and said, “There it is—under the table. Here, I’ll get it.”

He was getting out of his chair and leaning down before Beth had a chance to move, ducking his head beneath the table and retrieving the earring as he knelt on the floor. There was a grunt, then he was leaning back up and holding out the piece of jewelry for her to take, the small golden hoop pinched tightly between his thumb and index finger.

Maybe it was the alcohol swimming through her head and putting her in a goofy mood—Beth wasn’t sure. But all she could think about as Daryl knelt before her was how he looked like he could’ve been proposing.

A few of the patrons seated nearby had turned to look and she could feel their eyes on her, as though they were thinking that they might be witnessing a public proposal on Valentine’s Day. The gold hoop even kind of resembled a ring. It made her grin and nearly laugh aloud.

But instead of laughing, she let out an exaggerated gasp and put her hands to her face, feigning gleeful surprise.

Why not give them a show? Plus, it would undoubtedly be hilarious to see Daryl’s reaction.

“Oh my god, Daryl!” She squealed, loudly enough that all the surrounding customers overheard. A dozen more heads turned to look in Beth and Daryl’s direction.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he remained kneeling in front of her with the earring held out, an expression of confusion on his face. “What?”

Beth’s grin grew a little wider and she started nodding eagerly, fully aware of all the eyes that were on her and the sudden silence that had fallen over the bar.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

[bricknees]

merle was a creep at times but he was on his way to redemption. i love the idea of sort-of-brother-in-law merle that got to live a little longer and make an effort to be a better person.

this is assuming daryl's partner is a female, btw

❜ ─ more under cut ─ ❛

• merle realizing just how head over heels daryl is for you. he would give him HELL over it but at the end of the day he would be so protective over this little ray of light in his baby brother's life

• you think daryl can be scary when a guy's looking at you the wrong way? the guy's quite literally done for when merle finds out

• "merle, you can't say that, that's offensive-" "aw hell, y'all are some damn pansies!"

• "lemme know when you get tired of my little bro, i'll show you what a real man's like-" "you ever shut yer damn mouth, merle?"

• ^ he's not serious though. he just likes to get daryl riled up and thinks it's funny to see your nose scrunch up in disgust, even if he does end up getting clocked in the jaw for it

• when the brothers go on supply runs, merle points out necklaces or earrings they come across, encouraging daryl to take it for you because "women love shiny shit"

• he's always asking you when you're going to pop out a little boy so he can finally be an uncle

• "how ya know it wouldn't be a girl?" "ain't been a girl with dixon blood since i been alive, brother. ain't gonna happen." (if you and daryl have a baby, it definitely does happen)

• when the prison falls, you can't find daryl and there's no more time, so you end up running from the prison with merle

• he hates it

• like every second of it

• not necessarily because he minds your company, but moreso because this is a huge fucking weight on his shoulders

• your wellbeing is now his #1 priority because you're daryl's girl and that makes you family, and he has no intentions of letting his little brother down again

• so it's a lot of pressure

• plus you keep giving him that nasty ass side-eye like he pissed in your cornflakes any time he says something that he finds hilarious (it's actually just offensive), and he's starting to think your sense of humor is nonexistent

• you expect him to make some vulgar jokes or try to come onto you at any given minute, but to your surprise, he actually never does

• like i said, he was never serious and he only joked about it to mess with daryl. without daryl around, he's rather respectful of your space

• at night he tells you stories of his time in the military before he got discharged and went to prison

• please don't cry around him :) he likes you and all, but he would really rather cut off his other hand than have to try and comfort you - that's daryl's job

• the only time he manages to not be an ass when you're crying is when you mention worrying about daryl and missing him

• merle lets out a hefty sigh in response, ruffles your hair with his one hand, and admits that he misses him, too

[norman-fucking-reedus]

Thinking a lot about GirlDaddy Daryl… like nobody can convince me that he wouldn’t be absolutely soft for his daughter

When she’s a baby his heart is just so full, the first months after having her he just cried everytime he held her. He’d think about how he has a family of his own to protect, and how he’s gonna work his ass off to be a worthy father unlike his own.

The toddler stage catches him way off guard. He now has a walking talking mini female version of him tailing along behind his every step. She follows him EVERYWHERE its absolutely adorable. He spends every day playing questionnaire.

“Daddy wha’s tha?”

“Don’ touch tha’ ya could get hurt”

Yes she would definitely pick up his accent, and yes it is the cutest thing. She lives up her nickname Lil Dixon all the way.

When she reaches the tween stages, tempers start to flare and arguments ensue, only unfortunately for Daryl his daughter is, well his, and not Judith, so instead of walking away she bites back, and surprisingly hard.

“Dammit girl jus’ listen ta me alrigh’?!”

“Fuck you!”

“Aye! Watch yer damn mouth missy- Don’ walk away from me!”

The conversation ended with a frilly bedroom door being slammed in his face, leaving him more grounded more than anything. He obviously ends up feeling horrible about, almost spiraling in your arms as he sobbed about how he was ending up lile his dad. You had to reassure him that “Good parents can still argue with their kids. Give her some time and then go talk to her”

Daryl may or may not have felt slightly sick when he knocked on her door a few hours later, but it was quickly washed away when the door open and she jumped into his arms.

“M’sorry fer swearin’ daddy”

“M’sorry fer yellin’ at ya kiddo”

Can you blame the man for crying a little? He didn’t get apologizes as a kid and right now he was healing himself.

Surprisingly the teenage stage ends up being the best, her having gained your sense of humor and a laidback personality, also not being afraid to speak her mind and defend her thoughts.

“Dad, yer gettin’ prettyy fuckin’ old. What am I gon inherit from ya?”

“M’not dyin’ any goddamn time soon girl, get away from me”

“Hey! S’rude to push women! Didn’t moms teach ya anythin?”

“Ya ain’t a woman, yer a girl. Now scram”

“Why are ya tearing me down?”

“Are ya gettin’ a kick out of botherin’ me?”

“Yes very much so”

She becomes his second best friend, constantly getting on his nerves and harassing him throughout the day. Having grown up with Merle, Daryl was used to some of her antics, at one point starting a prank war against her.

“Daryl, do you wanna explain to me why you’re filling balloons with glitter?”

“Yer daughter is gon have some real sparkly hair”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

© norman-fucking-reedus 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, or adpated to any other platform. You may translate my works with my asked and given consent.

[scudslut]

too sweet

daryl x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni

a/n: okay, is this like the song? IDK i listened to it on repeat tryna decipher shit and come up with a good plot but i think i got a little lost in the sauce, or maybe im just being mean to myself🫢 ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON BYEEE🤍

you two never got along, never saw eye to eye.

years you’d known each other and all it ever did was reveal those differences all the more. highlighting them in bold letters for you to gaze at thoughtfully, but did that stop you?

it was a game you played, back and forth for so long that it became a routine. bicker and disagree till you were blue in the face and at each other's mercy for only the moon to bear witness too.

how many times had you dug into him for his habits. he smoked, kept to himself, he fought, but where had that ever gotten him? it was against your nature. a way of being that you genuinely could not understand.

and he’d be right there with you, matching each dig with his own. you were sweet, too soft. you pleased and walked among ice like you weighed as much as a feather, so predictable it was almost humorous. if you didn’t understand him, he was absolutely riddled by you.

“how do ya sleep at night? huh? don’ya ever get tired of keeping everyone so fuckin happy?” he’d mutter, all the while tearing articles of clothing off of your supple skin, one by one. skin that was pristine by default and worn as if only heaven itself had touched it.

“believe it or not, i actually want people to like me daryl. i like when i can make people happy. it’s not a fucking act,” you sneer back.

who was he to talk? he lived inside his own head. could go days… no, months by himself, not muttering a single word to a breathing soul. and you’d tried to reason, guide, and help, but if anyone knew daryl dixon, they knew he didn’t budge easily. he had to want it for himself and he simply didn’t see the glory in your people-pleasing nature, as he’d like to call it.

sure he saw the value in it, somewhat. but he liked things the way they were, as they were meant to be. if he disagreed with something he sure as shit wasn’t gonna prance around trying not to hurt no feelings.

“alright, you keep tellin’ yerself that, princess.”

so what was it that kept you two coming back for more? why was the tension and aversion between your minds so magnetic between your bodies? he wanted to snap those annoying, pretty lips shut with his. maybe if he kissed you hard enough something would click in that head of yours. maybe he could fuck some clarity into you.

his fingers would rub fast circles over your clit, watching you keen and moan into the pillow beneath you, “how’s that princess? good enough for ya? hm?” he’d mock, “faster? slower?”

“god, would you shut up already?” you tried to sneer only for it to come out as a breathy whine, adding fuel to his pride and smirk across his face. your lips crashed into his in an attempt to diminish it but it was right there, now pressed up against your face, and fuck, why was that so hot? why was his rugged stubble, his long hair kissing your shoulders, and his broad, strong body so infuriatingly sexy to you? muscles built from years of fights, kills, and hunting. you didn’t like it… but you did.

“fuck, i’m gonna-“ you cried to him softy.

“nuh, uh. not yet pretty girl.”

his belt was loud throughout the quiet room. your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure but you heard the familiar clanks and zips, and then you felt his weight above you — warm and spicy. it pulled you so far and close that you sucked him in before he even got his pants all the way off.

“fuckin’ christ girl,” he groaned, snapping down to meet your hips flush. it was rapid and hot, both of you pouring all your frustrations into each push and pull. frustrations with each other, frustrations with yourselves that you liked this so fucking much.

he fucked you deep and hard like his body hated you, but somehow kissed you so tenderly through it all. his tongue massaging and tangling with yours as if you created his oxygen for him.

“so fucking sweet, princess, y’know that?” he whispered against you, “no good fer me.”

he was telling himself that; convincing himself and you knew it. your body rolled to meet his quickly, feeling every gooey, warm muscle against your skin and drooling over it, “more.”

as if to prove a point he slowed down, pulling out till just his tip was caught at your entrance, and then would thrust in, hard. over, and over, and over until you were singing his name and muffling it with his neck. warm and spicy.

“ya like that? thought ya wanted faster?”

he knew he was walking a line, but what had you guys ever been but a definitive line? a clear distinction of night and day, the only time ever seeing eye to eye being these moments. as one.

you were sent over the edge instantly, spasms of pleasure rolling languidly through your body. the tight swelling of your cunt causing daryl to finish with you and fuck if he didn’t cum the prettiest, sexiest way you had ever seen. straight out of your dirty, teenage fantasies and above you to soak in while you wreathed along with him.

he groaned and cursed into your chest, riding out each wave until he was shaking above you and so sensitive he couldn’t help but hiss as he pulled away, flopping down beside you.

a cigarette was quickly fished from his strewn jeans pockets and placed between his lips, lighting up and rolling back into the pillows lazily. every ounce of mending and merging you had just done was palpably tossed out the window, your scoff loudly filling the silence.

“that will kill you one day, hope you know that,” you muttered whilst gathering your clothes and slipping them on.

he didn’t bat an eye, nothing he hadn’t heard before from you and honestly, he didn’t really care. plenty of things in the world that’ll kill you, your naivety being one of them.

“lemme guess, gotta be up bright n’ early? tendin’ ta all yer charity cases?” he mused as he watched you head for the door. there had never been a night you’d spent together, probably would end up ripping each others faces off alone in room together for that long.

he didn’t get an answer, just an amused eye roll as you opened his bedroom door, “bye daryl.”

and then you were gone, quiet stomps heard as you floated up the stairs and he knew it would only be a matter of days before you were right back here, glued to his body and singing his name like you needed him to survive.

“figures,” he mumbled, taking a long drag from his smoke and smirking softly to himself.

what’s that saying? opposites always attract?

[celtic-crossbow]

Carol: You know, Rick gives Michonne flowers everyday. You should try that. Y/N would love it.

Daryl: Okay, I guess.

-Later that day-

Daryl, approaching Y/N and Michonne: …

Daryl, shoving a small bouquet of wildflowers at Michonne: Here.

Michonne: ???

Y/N: What the—

Daryl: Don’t ask me. M’just as confused as you are.

[mymanreedus]

[radiant-reid]

Angel

Summary: Based on 14x09 where BAU!Reader recounts how working the case reminded her of Spencer's addiction

a/n: tbh this is trash, just trying to get some motivation back

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Content Warning: references to Spencer's Dilaudid addiction

Word Count: 1.1k

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There are flowers on the table. 

That's the first thing Y/n notices and the only thing out of place in their otherwise tidy house. Spencer's always been a clean person. 

The kid clutter- books, coloring pens, tiny shoes, the occasional Lego figure- that clutter, he's proud of.

Next to the vase is a bowl of pasta in a tomato-based sauce, and she guesses because of that, there's at least one child-size shirt soaking in the laundry with a stain on it.

"Hey, beautiful." Spencer makes her jump with his silent footsteps, followed by sudden voice. He touches her shoulders, massaging them softly. 

She turns around, placing a quick kiss on his lips. "Hey. Missed you."

He pulls her forward, resting his head on top of hers. "Missed you too. Glad you made it back safe." 

Things are different since the bureau mandated Spencer take time off as part of his reinstatement after prison. After the births of their three kids, Y/n stayed home, naturally, on maternity leave while Spencer continued going out on cases with the team. In between, and for most of their relationship and marriage, they worked at the BAU, spending almost every minute together. But this is different. Now, Spencer's the one that spends more time in DC, and in his 30 days not working at the BAU, he does an excellent job as a househusband. 

Y/n pulls back, admiring his features for the first time in days."Sleeping angels?" She checks.

He scoffs lightly. "Not so much." She raises her eyebrows, humored. "Water, bathroom, another story, you know how it goes."

She chuckles. "Oh, yeah, I've heard that song before."

"Love them, though." He adds. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving." She turns to the delicious-smelling pasts on the table while his hands stay on her waist. Spencer's learned a lot while being a dad but his learning to cook has been very rewarding for her.

They move to the couch, needing to be closer than they would be if they were sitting at the table. 

Her smile dimmers after she's complimented his cooking, and he's called her beautiful again. It's an easy difference in demeanor to spot for Spencer as a husband rather than a profiler. 

"The case?" Spencer guesses. 

Y/n takes a deep breath in and shrugs. "One like that wouldn't get to me usually." She tries to dismiss her feelings.

He catches it, having used the same technique many times. If it's bothering her, they're going to discuss it. "It was Tara's ex-husband that discovered a pattern?"

"Mm-hmm, uh, Daryl, he brought it to her, thinking there was an angel of death unsub killing people in the recovery community." She recaps, although he already knows from their discussion on the phone. 

Technically, he's only allowed to know the basic details, not offer advice, but as long as Emily doesn't officially know that the occasional case-solving tip comes from Spencer, it's okay.

"What was his vice?" He asks.

Tara didn't want to spill all the details, but Y/n had made a few assumptions. "Alcohol, drugs later, I think." 

"So why was this one more difficult than usual?" Spencer asks, frowning then it hits him. "Oh." 

Y/n feels a pang of guilt in her chest at Spencer's expression contorting. "No, I don't mean-" She pauses, not knowing what to say. Neither can deny that her feelings are connected to what Spencer went through.

"Comparing the victims to me?" He guesses again.

Her selfishness feels even worse than her guilt. "No. Tara had to give a heart-wrenching speech. And we were in very different situations, her and Douglas and you and I, but it made me think about that time." She tries to explain it.

Spencer understands, and he nods solemnly. "We never talk about that in relation to you." He realizes that it's something he feels guilty about.

"I don't like to talk about it." She shrugs. "Just hearing what Tara said struck a chord." She could feel Tara's pain through Emily's repeated words, and it was all too easy to remember the heartbreak of seeing someone she loved struggling.

Spencer takes her hand, squeezing it lightly. "We can talk about it whenever you want, you know?" 

"Not now." She shakes her head. "I missed you." 

He smiles softly, resting against the couch and spreading his arms out. Y/n rests her legs over his and tucks herself under his arm. "I missed you too." He kisses her forehead and holds her closer. Things feel better when they're all under one roof. "Y/n, it's really important to me that you know how much I appreciate you staying through that. You're an angel, you know?"

"Spence." She coos, touching his cheek softly and momentarily getting caught in his eyes. "It wasn't a hard choice to stay with you and support you through that. I love you, and I'll always be here for you."

He takes a deep breath in. "I love you too. I could talk about how grateful I am for you forever, you know?"

"I know." She laughs lightly, having heard those speeches from him more than once. It never gets less heartwarming.

Spencer shuffles slightly, reaching out to take something off the coffee table. She raises her eyebrows until a look of recognition takes over her features. 

"A photo album?" She asks curiously. "Why's that out here?" 

"It's our first." He explains as he opens it, tracing his finger over the cover page. "Tillie wanted to see it." He finds the page he's looking for, showing her a photo of them. 

Y/n grins, looking at it, remembering the exact second it was taken. "You look so little." She coos, touching the glossy picture of them. They're not much older than 25, fresh-faced, innocent, and dressed nicely. Spencer's smiling the adorable smile he still smiles today. It's stayed the same through every challenge they've faced.

"You've always been so beautiful." He mumbles, stroking her hair with his spare hand.

Her cheeks heat as she taps him on the shoulder. "Stop." She whines. 

"Never." He shakes his head. "You're gorgeous, and I'm going to make sure you know it. I have no idea how I got so lucky."

She chuckles, shaking her head. "I'm the one that got lucky, marrying a genius."

"I married a genius too," Spencer claims, and he pulls her even closer to him like there's any chance she wants to move.

"Can we just sit here a while?" She asks as she relaxes more into him. 

He leans down to kiss her forehead. "For as long as you want, angel."

[writella]

hi! s10 is so fun so enjoy it when you start it! can i request a daryl smut of any kind?

Before We Leave

Synopsis: Here’s one about you sitting all sweet on Daryl’s lap because I have not stopped thinking about him holding you in his arms and giving you all the kisses after reading this headcanon! ♡

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, set during the period between seasons 8-9, kissing, smut—grinding, thigh riding, fingering, making a mess when you have places to go (such sillies). Mostly proofread. Feel free to give feedback!

A/N: It’s been a minute, guys, I know :( and to ava, so sorry for the wait ♡ I hope you like this and I can’t wait to get to season 10 too!! And know that I definitely still have your initial request in mind for later on!!

First, you noticed his hair: ever so endearingly disheveled, the waves falling so effortlessly as they did in their shaggy way; and then you noticed his skin— it shined. Normally, this would have been because of work and sweat from the late spring heat, but he was clean, he had showered today. He even changed his clothes, and surprisingly, his light beard was trimmed, his face was washed too– it illuminated with his small lazy smile that appeared as you came through the door. He looked so nice and ready to go. Your handsome man. He was waiting for you.

He wore a dark blue long-sleeve, the buttons at the start undone, exposing the top of his chest as he always preferred. And his sleeves, only just big enough to be slightly loose around his arms; they were rolled up at the forearms. It looked good. Though the better fit was his equally loose vest that was layered on top. Seeing it reminded you of how much you missed it. It took him so long to get it back from Dwight. It’s only now that you’re realizing how it fits again, how well it suits him. It’s not that he needed it of course, but you did love how it completed every outfit he wore, making it just so him.

In fact, everything about him was so, so—

“Hey,” he calls to you, his voice itself a finger snap to your attention, “you alright there?”

“Yeah,” you respond, meeting his eyes as you pathetically try to joke, “Just can’t think of the last time I actually saw you sit. We’re always… fighting or doing something aren’t we?”

“Mmhm.” He smiles inwardly. Your staring was nothing short of obvious, and you both know it: You were leaning against the door frame, eyes wide and lingering, trailing over him as he sat on your desk chair. But to him it was sweet, honestly. Almost humorous to see. It was nice to see you smile over nothing other than looking at dumb old him, or at least that's what he assumes of himself. He should know better by now than to think like that, but it's still just his way sometimes. You were in love with him though, and he loved you; and you liked looking at his dumb old face, and he knew that. That's why he doesn’t mind your gazing. That’s why he says, “C’mon,” patting his lap, knowing you wanted to come closer; his eyes catching how much yours went lower and lower, changing from innocent peerings to just a little something else, something more.

You’re hesitant at his invitation, but smiling like a kid. It's true you couldn’t help how good his thighs looked and how good the fingers that splayed over them were— rough and thick— their feeling on your skin taking you back to the past— but his noticing… Well, it just makes you blush. It makes you take slow footsteps, one in front of the other as you come closer to him, bashful and snickering. Once you’re near enough he holds you by the hips and you skip to meet his movements towards him. He turns your backside to him on the right side of the chair and sits you down, horizontal from his forward figure.

“Silly,” he calls you, flicking your nose as he taunts. It’s gentle and harmless even in his typical, slightly grumbled tone.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your wrists and hands curling at his neck, your side pressed into him. He feels bigger when you’re in his arms like this. As if he can comfort you or sheild you from anyone or anything— and you know he could. So safe is what you feel with him; the sigh you let out proves it. The fighting may have finished almost a year ago now, but moments like this are truly what feels like peace. And with that, your mind drifts backwards again. Realizing how you don’t remember the last time you’ve sat like this. With him. Just holding you.

One of his hands holds your thigh while the other grounds you by the lower waist, nearing your hip. You turn your face to his, raising a hand, parting some of the hair in front of his forehead, holding his jaw and you kiss him. You put your tongue between his lips. It’s quick but tender. There is a tiny trail of spit between you two as you let go. Tilting your head, you look at him with an already happy and dazed little smile. You don’t remember the last time you got a good look at him either. And you’re not talking about any of the times you’ve looked at him while simply talking or standing by him, that was almost all the time; but for so long standing next to each other was to cover one another in a fight, kill a walker, but this— this was simply because you wanted to, because he was yours, and you loved him, and you could.

He goes in to meet your lips first this time, holding you by the neck and jaw with one hand, and the other is at your back making you lean in closer. You give in to him, let him take the lead. Your feet curl under the chair and you smile into his indefinite kisses. It makes you accidentally nip at his lower lip which turns into him intentionally biting your lip thereafter. It’s just a bit harder, but he might have done it a tad more sharply than he intended.

“Ow,” you hiss, hushed and soft between breaths, but he’s already soothing the area at the corner there, giving you a lick and little pecks before returning to what he was doing before: kissing you and kissing you.

“You’re fine,” he tells you dryly in between.

Your hands lowers to his chest, feeling his collarbones, then down to his heart. Your fingers rest on the exposed skin there, then trailing lower, ghosting over the closed buttons. You want to, but maybe you shouldn’t. It wasn’t exactly the time.

Originally, you had come home to shower and change: Everyone was having dinner together at Rick and Michonne’s tonight, the first time in a long time. In fact, it was Judith who requested it; she said specifically how much she wanted all of her friends to be there. And you couldn’t disappoint the sweet girl who gave you a construction paper and crayon written invitation, asking you to promise Uncle Daryl would come. The ticket was for both of you, a little picture of you two holding hands at the bottom. ‘Pretty smile you,’ and ‘grumpy pants him,’ she explained.

It was hilariously perfect and it made your heart leap. You and Micchone laughed for a whole minute about it and you hugged Judith immediately after.

Though you couldn’t believe that she could possibly think Daryl wouldn’t come. Of course he’d do anything for her, and you would too, so just as much, ‘Of course,’ you told her, ‘We’ll even be there 10 minutes early so we can pick seats next to you,’ you had said.

But now you’re here, in such a cliche you’d roll your eyes at if you weren’t so in the moment, with Daryl touching up your leg and you allowing it. For once, you’re the one all dirty in your work clothes. And the longer you kiss him, and the longer he holds you on his lap, the more you feel it; the want, the need. You’re getting restless and you’re struggling to weigh the options in your mind.

You lived in Alexandria, helping Rick, Micchone, Rosita… And Daryl, he was sent off to head reconstruction at the Sanctuary: you two don't get to see each other as often as you’d like.

And the Sanctuary wasn’t a place you particularly liked visiting anyways, especially not at first, and he didn’t blame you. But you had still talked to him about trying it, staying there. Maybe a week, maybe longer, maybe seeing if someone else can take over your Alexandria responsibilities, but honestly, he didn’t want you there either. He didn’t even want to be there. Every week that went by was another step closer to talking to Rick about leaving.

Still, moments like this are when you wonder about asking again, if you should be the one to finally move instead… The thought fades as Daryl now groans slightly into your mouth, you had pushed yourself down on his groin which elicited the dark sound, and you moan into him in response. Your hand gripping tightly to his bicep and his digs into your side, holding you tight— you’re losing the ability to think.

His tongue is twisting with yours, and his hand goes lower on your hip, the other deeper into your hair. You’re starting to have a heat pool at your center and you're squeezing your thighs together.

Daryl can sense it and feel all of it: the indecision, the squirming– your feet shuffling and curling against each other, your legs slowly swinging up and under the chair as you do so, as your continue to melt into his lips.

And he does feel it too, though he’s better at not showing it, but you do start to feel him shifting underneath you. An erection starts to harden as your hand goes lower on his chest and the little sounds of you humming into his mouth become more sexy, more desiring, than simply sweet as you continue.

He lets go, slipping his fingers between your knees, “We don’t gotta do too much.”

This makes you laugh. You’re still looking at him all dopey eyed, and more than slightly needy despite your words terribly trying to fight it, “What’s just enough then?”

His hand moves up along your inner thighs as an answer. His fingers trail up until they reach the center, and press into you at the inseam of your jeans. You start to buck up to his movements just as they begin. You even put your own hand over his, pressing into yourself more, your head tilting back. You bite your lip, whining lightly.

“Like that?” He asks, your neediness surprising the both of you.

“Last time I saw you was last week— for a day,” you’re speaking between light, out of breath pants, “outside- scavenging- no time.” Leaning forward into his touch, pretty sounds trail out, “-uh, mmm.”

You continue to grind against his hand harder, adding your other hand on top of his for more pressure until he says, “Get up.”

You stand, starting to undo your jeans and Daryl pushes the back of your chair further against your desk and starts to unbuckle his belt, but right before he finishes, you stop him. You grab his hands, “Wait,” you tell him, slipping off your shoes, and discarding your pants until you sit down again, straddling his lap.

There was something about the way you could see the outline of his bulge by how his pants laid on him, and the nice friction you knew the jeans would cause underneath you that felt so enticing. And more importantly, his bulge looked huge, fat even, you wanted to sit yourself perfectly right on top of it, making sure you could feel it all squish deliciously into your pussy lips with only your thin underwear covering you.

You begin to rock, pushing down against him. Your tiptoes reach the ground, helping you dig in and your hands go to grab onto his shoulders. Daryl holds your hips, thumbs pressing into your back, helping to roll your body into his.

His legs shift beneath you and it makes you think about his thighs again. How yummy they would feel just like his bulge…You have a little bit of time, right? Never mind- you’ll do it fast.

You get up once more, now placing yourself on his left thigh and you start rocking against him again.

Daryl quietly lets you, his hands go under your shirt and you let him take it off, leaving you in only your underwear while he’s fully clothed. He doesn’t mind letting you do what you want right now, he’s enjoying it. Grunting lowly, loving how he can watch you in your blissed out state: your open mouth, your sloppy humping and riding, how you're whining and panting as he touches up your stomach, how you’re so needy that you take one of his hands higher to caress your breast. He licks his teeth, “Need it bad, huh?” He tenses his quad, applying pressure so perfectly, just as you’d been thinking about for days. “Huh, sweetheart?”

“Think about you everyday, Daryl.” You sound just a bit too pathetic, but he eats it up, a small wicked grin coming to his face just looking at how much you wanted him. Not only thinking about his cock stuffed in you, but even how you wanted his thighs too? Just him in general? His poor girl, so deprived of him. He hated being apart, but fuck did he love how desperate it made you when he visited, desperate for him, desperate for him to give it to you or let you have it in any way. It gave him ideas of what he would do to you after you got back from dinner.

Your knee is centered in the middle of his thighs, pushing against his groin with each roll of your pelvis and the rock of Daryl’s hands as he pushes your hips forward, both helping you reach that point of pure bliss, going hard and deep, while giving him just a bit a release from the tension he feels because of you.

You close your eyes, head tilting up to the side lightly, mouth agape. “Ah, mm-” Your frustrated sounds then turn into you sighing so light, so sweetly, “I missed you.”

His hand reaches the side of your face briefly, rolling over your hair and cheek, “Missed you too.”

You knew your underwear was more than damp at this point, but you hoped the dark denim of his pants would mean it wouldn’t be that bad. You were lying to yourself honestly, but you did have wipes anyway, and… Was it bad to say you wanted to soak his jeans? For him to see the mess you made? Remember how big of a spot you created for later? There was no mistake, he had to spend the night. Having dinner in Alexandria made it so that it was too late for him to go back to the Sancutary afterwards. You wondered what he’d do to you later, what you’d let him do. He did miss you, he said it himself after all. And you feel his stare on your lower stomach as you continue to roll yourself on him, as he watches your clothed pussy make a mess of his jeans. And he sees the way his unintentional grunts and slight growls to the sight of you make your head tilt back, mouth opened so wide like you were already preparing to suck him off.

Your eyes are closed, your open mouth allowing a string of “ahs,” to come out as you continue to rub yourself against his muscle, wiggling a little, back and forth, going in a circle for a second to get more attention onto your clit, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter from your boyfriend’s big, and thick thigh. Your knee digs into him harder and he uses one hand to push it against him more.

After he lets go, one of his hands slips into your underwear, placing his middle finger over your clit, rubbing fast circles into it as much as he can as you continue to rock down on both thigh and fingers now. The extra friction feels so good. You’re whining, your panting, holding onto his shoulder with one hand, the other hand grabbing onto your desk, trying to stabilize yourself as you attempt to go faster, your movements becoming more erratic. “Daryl, please,” you whine, “help me.”

He places his free hand on your ass, kneading it forward and his other hand tries its best to circle into your pussy as much as it can.

As his middle finger continues to circle your clit, his two other fingers push into either side of your labia. “Go on,” he encourages, “Already made a mess. Make it bigger.” He moves his hand to your hip again, pushing you down. “You got it.”

Then he starts bouncing his leg, you bounce along with him, trying to rock as hard as you can. You start moaning louder, it’s continuous, you’re getting closer, you see yellow white light behind your eyes as a release takes over you, it’s hot and you can barely breathe, you almost wail as you coat his hands, ruining your panties, soaking his jeans. It felt amazing.

You huff out heavily now, finally opening your eyes to see Daryl take his hand from beneath you, licking his fingers clean. Wet popping sounds come out after he sucks each one, looking you directly in the eye. “Mmm.”

You blush gingerly at him. Getting up you see the large wer spot on his pant leg. It wasn’t a circle, it was ovular, taking up half the area of his thigh. Your teeth clench, you thought it would be big, but… you didn’t know it would be that big. This wasn’t something you could quickly clean off. “I guess it’s a good thing you keep your extra clothes here?”

He keeps his face straight, he figured as much would happen, but it was fun to see you squirm. “These were my extra clothes.”

“Oh.”

You should have let him take his pants off.

[optimist-pine]

Granny

Summary: You and Daryl have a secret confusing love language of insults

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,236

Era: Seasons 1-5(ish), The quarry - Alexandria

It had started shortly after your first encounter with Mr. Dixon. Simply a passing (slightly pointed) comment - nothing more - as some of you gathered around the fire that night.

Dale stands near the flames, removing a whistling pot from the heat. "Anybody want a cup of tea? Kettle's hot."

"Why dun'cha ask granny over there?" Daryl suggests, nodding towards you with a snigger. Merle's not around tonight, and so it seems he's found a way to create a bit of entertainment.

Your head snaps up when you realize you're the butt of the joke, hands stilling as you set down your work. A crochet hook or knitting needles find their way into your hands as often as that damn crossbow ends up in his; usually when it's too late in the evening to be doing anything else. "You know what? I would love a cup of tea. Thank you, Dale." You reply, taking the steaming mug that's passed to you with a smile that melts into a pointed glare the second Daryl's eyes meet yours.

The corner of his mouth twitches mischievously. "Somebody get out tha' fancy china an' the biscuits an' we'll have ourselves a real tea party." He's prodding the coals with a stick, and in the darkness, the slope of his shoulders brings to mind the image of a caveman. The thought amuses you.

You nod your head, contemplating. "Hmm... I'd be down for that. In fact, I have a feeling we might even be in the presence of a tea party expert." You say knowingly. Sophia and Carol sit cuddled up to your right, and the little girl looks curiously up at you, cradling a well-loved teddy bear. You turn to the child, lowering your voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about tea parties, would you?"

She curls into herself a little, shyly. But at her mother's gentle urging, she nods her head, a tiny smile appearing on her face.

You clap your hands together. "It's settled then! Tomorrow we shall have a tea party." The last part is aimed at Daryl - you feel proud of yourself, but the confused look on his face makes you question why. It's like you've taken his accusation as a challenge to prove just how grandmotherly you can be, and funnily enough, he's probably right. You're actually looking forward to hanging out with Sophia tomorrow; she's a pretty cool kid.

Carol tuts softly. "After school." She adds.

"After school." You agree, shooting Sophia a conspiratorial wink.

Every time Daryl spots you working with your yarn he can't resist the urge to tease you about it. Maybe it's because you take every jest in good humor, or maybe it's because you always have a quick, witty comeback. He's never quite figured it out, but somehow it's become a staple of your interactions. Even though so much has changed, he's oddly glad that this hasn't.

One night, in the dead of winter, as the wind howls through gaps in the window frames you get an ornery glint in your eye. Daryl's already found your behavior suspicious, whatever current yarn project you've been committed to hasn't made a single appearance the entire evening. And the way you keep glancing at him almost nervously is... unsettling.

When he looks up again you're walking towards him, hands tucked behind your back, trying so hard to look casual that it doesn't take long before all eyes are on you. You stop in front of him and promptly shove a box in his face. No, not just a box. It's a present, wrapped perfectly in polka-dotted gift wrap with a glittery bow to top it all off.

He stares back at you, wondering what punchline he's missed.

You roll your eyes. "It's a gift, Daryl."

"Why?" He asks. He'd trust you with his life any day, but right now - with that box - he absolutely does not.

"Well, why don'tcha just open it and find out?" You taunt, shaking the present just a smidge.

He takes the box, feeling awkward and clumsy as he tears away the paper. Having never opened a present before - at least nothing like this that is - feelings of stupidity and excitement and pressure blend within him.

He dumps the object into his palm. It's cool and smooth to the touch; a black mug with white writing that says "World's Crankiest Grandpa".

You're trying so hard to withhold from laughing that your face is turning pink.

"Think ya could get yer money back on this one?" He asks, spinning the cup around to critique it.

You slap his arm lightly. "Ah, Dixon, you're no fun."

"She might'a hit the nail on the head there." Rick chuckles.

You sit back down, finally pulling out your yarn like all is now right in the world. "Ah, I found it a couple days ago. Couldn't resist. S'pecially not after the dream I had where you were yellin' at the walkers to 'git offa yer damn lawn'..." You shudder. "Took me a bit to get that one outta my head."

That earns quite a few laughs from the rest of the group. Once again, you've managed to lift the mood of those around you. It seems to be a habit of yours.

He turns the mug over and over again, running his thumb across the letters. He knows it's only a gag gift, but he's not blind to the effort that went into it. And it's not an exaggeration to say that this silly mug is by far the most thoughtful gift he's ever received.

He hangs onto that mug, using it proudly every day. Of course, it garners the occasional question from the new folks, but he doesn't mind. Soon enough he's got a matching handmade hat, scarf, and gloves as proof of your continuing love for the grandmotherly hobby.

When the prison falls he misses those gifts severely.

But then, Alexandria. The day he comes across you there on the porch in a creaky rocking chair, with your cup of steaming tea and a ball of yarn, the once-familiar urge to say something a little stupid and a lot annoying takes over.

He stoops down and leans in. "Where's yer glasses at, old lady?"

You wave your hand to shoo him away. "Ah, git yer muddy boots off'a my porch ya ol' geezer." You nag, the smile you're trying to hide peeking out like a sun ray from behind storm clouds. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, clomping down the steps. But it's not like he's trying to hide his own smile or anything... Not at all.

When he returns home that evening, there, sitting on the end of his bed, is a small box. It's perfectly wrapped in paper that's covered in birds and trees, encircled with a pristinely hand-tied bow. He can't deny the flutter of excitement as he plops down to unwrap it. It's like Deja Vu, the coffee mug tumbling into his palm. This time it's white with black lettering that reads "I don't always roll a joint, but when I do, it's my ankle".

With a snort he falls back onto the bed, letting old memories wash away the burdens of the day. However he can, whatever it takes, he'll hold onto the hope that you'll both end up old and gray and worn someday - together.

[starshipsofstarlord]

nsfw alphabet

warnings. just a lot of sex discussion, like a hell of a lot

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

it would be the one moment that he held you close, taking a break from all the shit that went on around you, unless you had a quickie on a run, to which he would wipe you off hurriedly with that red rag. he’d like you to play with his hair and have your head on his chest, knowing that any time could be the last time

b = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he would definitely like his hands, since he’d be insecure and shy about the scars that covered the rest of his body. daryl would like how big they are in comparison to your own, and all the things that he could do with them (sexually and in general, i.e. like killing walkers, and hunting)

his favourite body part of yours would probably be your lips, for various reasons. it would feel like everything would be okay when you smile, especially if it’s a real and warm smile. and of course, you sent him to a whole other dimension when it was wrapped around his cock, he’d never have experience pleasure like it

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

it would always be a dirty secret of his that he wanted to cum inside you, so fucking badly. but he always referred from doing so due to the risks, and it was hard enough to survive without impregnating you, since anything could go wrong like it did with lori

and so instead he would opt for cumming on your thigh or lower stomach as he would pull out at the last second, and it would usually be your hand finishing him off

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’d love to see you looking all badass, covered in walker guts, points if you’re angry. it just did something to him that drove him wild, but he kept it to himself, knowing that he would be judged for his admittance. it made him swell with pride (and other things) that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s a fast learner, so he definitely picks up on things quickly, however i would say very little experience (since norman said he played him as though he was a virgin)

he would get so easily embarrassed when it came to anyone talking about sex. there may have been like one or two at the very most drunken hookups that he hardly remembers, but that would be all i think, at the very very most. but he would love to learn to explore your body for the first time, it would be something new and considering how long he held out, he would find every second of your intimacy worth it

f = favourite position (this goes without saying)

for daryl it would most definitely be good ol’ fashioned missionary. he would love to be close to you (and when you first started having sex, have his back facing away from you). but for quickies he would probably have you held in his arms and up against a wall, fucking you as fast as he could so the two of you could reel in the aftershocks of your orgasms

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

at the beginning it would be a little goofy since he was learning, it would feel like you’re two school kids sneaking around and trying to be quiet. daryl would get easily embarrassed if he did anything wrong and that he could improve on, but you’d just gently laugh and tell him to keep going

but after that, he’d grow more serious, and confident. he’d have the goal of making you cum over and over if you had the time for it, other than sneaking around for quickies which would be exciting and make you laugh each time your man would tense up if you heard someone

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i’d say it matches the ‘drapes’, since there’s not much time for self care in an apocalypse, and the same goes for you, unless you manage to find some disposable razors. he doesn’t care much for trying to trim, as he’s never done so before, and since you’re not fussed he uses all the energy in regards to his cock on you

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

daryl can be quite intimate, considering that sex is something special between the both of you. sure occasionally he fucks you like a madman when he’s stressed, however he always and i mean ALWAYS makes sure that you are enjoying yourself. he watches your every move, to decide how much you can take and what you’re needing. most of the time it’s not just the pleasure from screwing that he craves, but to feel close to you

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

hardly ever, unless you’re watching him or he’s preparing his cock to be sheathed inside of you. there’s not always time for sex and so there’d hardly be time for him to get himself off; however he did find himself doing it more frequently than he ever had in his life before the outbreak the moment that he met you

he needs you, and just to feel close to you, and that’s more than enough.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

one of daryl’s kinks is a size kink! not only does that man love man handling you and have his hands grasping large portions of your body at once, but he loves to use it to his advantage to tease you. if you’re lifting something particularly heavy, he will be the first to help, watching as his arms contract from the weight, and he finds amusement in the way that lust fill your eyes and how your mouth gapes open

it may not be perceived as a kink, or maybe it will, but he is addicted to you moaning his name. it shows that he is the one making you feel good,and he loves when you vocalise it

other kinks he would have would be spanking you when he’s feeling dominant (he’d only do it lightly, unless he is extra pissed off at you for whatever reason), and he occasionally if he’s feeling frisky will spit in your mouth

l = location (favourite places to do the do)

his favourite place to have sex with you would be your bedroom, away from prying eyes and walkers that could stumble across the two of you fornicating. however every once in a while he’ll take you in a truck if you’re on a supply run with just the two of you, or in your garage if he has a lot to do and is craving a distraction

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

it doesn’t take a lot, although there’s not always time for him to act on his carnal impulses. but if you’re wearing a particularly tight pair of jeans that hug your ass just right, or just a towel after showing, he will seize any opportunity that he has.

another thing that will wind his gears is if another person flirts with you, he has to make it clear that you are his, and nobody could love you like he does. it’s not him being possessive, he’d just rather everyone know that you are a taken woman, and he is the one that you’re committed to

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

the one thing daryl would never ever do is hurt you, any injury as minimal as it could be would be the difference between life and death when you’re outside the walls. a few light spanks here and there are fine, however even if you asked him to smack you around the face in a sex-induced haze, he’d look at you like you were a crazy woman

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

as much as he adores your lips around his cock, he leans towards being a giver rather than a receiver. he could get lost in eating out your pussy, and often times does; he’s like a starved man, and he loves nothing more than giving you pleasure. some people say he’s pussy whipped and he most definitely is but tasting you is one of the best things about sex and foreplay in his opinion

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it will always depend on his mood, however even when he is being slow and sensual, his pace does increase. it’s a rush when he goes faster to chase your highs, and he loves how you have trouble containing your moans and pleasure filled bellows. and it depends also on which position you are in, though it’s often missionary, if you’re on top he’ll grab at your hips, fucking up into you and controlling your movements

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

quickies happen exceedingly often, especially depending on the amount of work that you have to do. and he enjoys them, and even though he usually prefers to take his time with you, having you fold and crumble as he fucks you on a run. it makes him a little cocky that he has the ability to make you lose your mind in such a short amount of time, and he’ll always tease you after, even if you’re around other people, just to see you get all riled up for the possibility of another round

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

it will 100% depend on what the risk is, but overall he likes to keep things in a routine, sometimes switching the position. he likes exactly what you do together, so he thinks there’s no need to try much else. the one risk that repeats in his mind is cumming inside of you, it’s almost like a primal instinct, but he refrains from doing so as the outcome is enormously risky

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

so so many. at the start he was unable to last long with the feeling of being inside your pussy, but the more the two of you have sex, he is able to last a lot longer. maybe 30-40 minutes if he’s not too riled up. and he’d need to take a quick break between round but he could go like 3/4, and whilst he’s waiting to get hard again, he would either get you both some water or snack on your pussy

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

it’s not the easiest thing to get ahold of in an apocalypse, even if they’d be free considering that stores are no longer open. and it’s definitely not a priority, he is a very hands on man, and would rather make you cum himself. he thinks it’d be hot to maybe have you have a vibrator to stimulate your clit whilst his cocks inside of you, but that’s all really

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

he will tease you until you beg him to fuck you. daryl loves hearing you say that you need him, and often he doesn’t have to do much, sometimes give your hip a squeeze as he passes by you and dragging his hand across your lower back, however he teases more when you’re already undressed. he will tease you until you’re pulling his hair as he blows air over your wet cunt, trying to push his head closer so that his lips make contact with where you need him most. he also likes to run his tip through your folds multiple times before he finally pushes inside of you

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he does try to stifle his moans in case anyone hears, since he knows that they’ll tease him. and he’ll moan the dirtiest things in your ear as he’s fucking you, allowing his breath to hit your neck whilst he buries his face next to your own. his groans are constant though, especially as he gets closer to cumming

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

it may not be that wild, but he loses his mind if you sit on his face. if he could choose how he died, it would definitely be with you sat on his face, so that his lips are buried against your cunt. again, he’s a giver so it’s like his own personal heaven; he just can’t get enough of you and your pussy

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he has a thick and uncut cock, and his soft bulge is visible through his trousers (iykyk) and when he’s soft he’s about 7 inches, but when he gets going and is hard, his cock grows to be around 7.5-8 inches. he was almost afraid during his first time with you that he’d hurt you, but soon he learns that it brings you such bliss (side note. he always stretches you out just right first), and his eyes roll back when you’re blowing him and choke when his tip hits past the back of your throat

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

it’s a little above average, as much as he loves sex with you, there is nothing better than being married/in a relationship with you, even without the sexual pros. and he can appreciate your body in an innocent way. his drive definitely increases though when he’s stressed or has had a hard day

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

even if he’s tired after a round or few, he can’t fall asleep right away, and so he uses the time whilst he’s awake to clean you up and make sure that you’re comfortable. he also will have some pillow talk with you, where his voice is all gruff, and you’ll play with his hair. he finds it difficult to sleep in general, because all he can think about a good amount of the tune is those that didn’t make it, and he wants the quiet around you to continue until he knows that nothing is going to happen while you sleep - you are his #1 priority, and he just likes to make sure you’re safe

and sometimes the two of you will get mostly dressed and sit outside for a good 20 minutes and have a couple of cigarettes before going back to bed to finally get some rest

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

warnings: violence, injury, dark humor

"I swear I'm telling the truth!" Dwight pleaded. "Please! You have to believe me!"

You finished binding his hands and then stepped back, withdrawing your pistol from the sheath on your hip. "Shut the fuck up. I'm pretty sure we don't have to do anything," you snapped back, shooting him a glare.

"I promise you, I want the same things you do n—AH! FUCK! OH, SHIT!"

You looked down at your gun which was still smoking from the barrel. The bullet had struck Dwight in the leg. "Oh, oops," you said lazily.

Daryl glanced between you and Dwight, chewing on his bottom lip. "I think accidentally shootin' somebody calls fer more than 'oops'," he drawled.

You were digging in your pack now and pulled out a roll of gauze. "Who says it was an accident?" you said, looking up at Daryl. "He shot you. He tortured you. He fuckin' killed Denise. He's lucky I aimed for his leg."

Daryl eyed you, a queer expression on his face. He watched you approach Dwight, who was still whimpering, with the gauze. "Oh, be quiet. You're gonna be fine..." you snapped at him.

Daryl drifted over as you wrapped Dwight's leg. "First, yer a little scary sometimes," he said, though you could hear the smile in his voice. "Second, yer sayin' ya shot him... for me?"

You stood up and Daryl handed you his bandana to wipe Dwight's blood from your hands. You met his blue eyes and nodded. "Kinda. Yeah."

Daryl let out a gruff laugh and shook his head. "Might be the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," he joked.

You cocked your head at him. "Really? That's lame. Wait until you see what I got you for your birthday," you said, smiling at him.

"Ain't a dead body is it?" he drawled, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"If I can get to Negan it might be..."

Prompt: "Oh, oops" / "I think accidentally shooting somebody calls for more than 'oops'."