#walker bait

[mallratsys]

Some post-heist Marvin for rn.

[julie-su]

I'm so brave not answering funny but rude/mean anons trying to do weird bits with me. answering them sets a precidence that then breeds people trying to get weird and inflammatory in your inbox and 90% of them aren't funny, just oddly mean to bait you to give the funny shocked 'wtaf are you saying?!' answer.

Yes... Most anons you recieve that seem impossibly stupid are just manufactured by people who follow you, who will then reply to the post off anon, making fun of the ask, 'get a load of THIS guy!' ... I had a whole bout of it on my blog in 2015. What a nightmare.

Cottoned on when one of the regular repliers missed the 'anonymous' button when sending in an outrageous ask in that 'eym typin leik dis 2 not give awey mi typin quirkes' (READ: "I'm typing like this to not give away my typing quirks) style... I had been wondering if the asks were manufactured, I just was surprised at how deep it ran.

[comradekarin]

what’s the best romantic pairing on twd and why is it maggie and glenn

[fordaryl]

REMEMBER.

minors dni. 2.6k words. smut. daryl dixon x fem!reader. protective daryl. hint of size kink. strength kink.

It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.

Safety lets you forget.

And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.

"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another growling walker down.

It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.

You drag the door of the container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the walkers. It would be if it weren't for Daryl. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.

One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.

One is fine. You can handle one.

Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on Daryl. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.

You kick the walker you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.

Locking it is another story.

You have no hope of accomplishing that.

Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Daryl keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.

Then one gets shot down. Daryl, is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Walkers you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.

They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Daryl anymore. He's either dead or hiding.

Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.

You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.

“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”

Any second now... any second they'd find Daryl and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.

"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.

You hold your breath.

"Well check it out then!" another demands.

Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.

You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the walkers are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Daryl would be watching... waiting. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.

"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of your sights, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking."

You know what'll happened when they find you. It's the same thing each time. You're prey to people like these—something to hunt in a world without consequences for that kind of thing.

Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.

"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage—vulnerable. Not a threat. "I'm—I'm unarmed."

Then a bright light blinds you.

"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims. Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"

There it was. Little. Thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Daryl more time.

"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.

You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Daryl was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something.

You just had to stay alive.

"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.

You get muffled laughter in response. Guards down. Distracted.

"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."

They're flash lights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.

Five. You count five. If you kill two...

"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger, a little less distracted.

The rest ignore him. Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. They're hands send a wave of repulsion through your body as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their touch feels against your skin.

The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.

"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm says, clearly irritated and impatient.

"But—"

"Now."

His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of walkers, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.

Then, only a few steps later—you're stopped. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."

You blink away the burn threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...

The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry walkers. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."

There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.

But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?

You were dying tonight if Daryl was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...

Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.

You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all.

The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.

Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.

You were nothing. Prey.

The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the head before he can get hands on his own weapon.

The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though, those moments with an enemy weapon pointed at your head always do.

But then Daryl is there, strangling the man with a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck you spot the bodies behind him.

He'd been waiting for you.

You watch him stand, hair hanging in his face and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Then his eyes are on you.

Then his hands.

Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky.

You nod.

"You did good," he says, that deep gravel back in his voice. "So good, sweetheart." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point to rest at your clavicle. "We gotta go," he says. "Stay close for me, yeah?"

—————

The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs. To the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.

His thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you.

"You like that sweetheart?" His voice is almost sweet as his lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. "Huh? You like that?"

You nod with a small whine, pressing your hips back into him—desperate.

He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your slippery, spongy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.

"Fuck," he grunts. "You need me here? Huh? You all fuckin' empty?"

"Yeah," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."

His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely, his warmth seeping into your skin from his calves to his hot breath on your neck.

"What do you need?" he asks. As if he doesn't know; as if he didn't always know.

"You."

"Hm?" he hums, sweet and coaxing. "How?"

You reach blindly to find his wrist, gripping it firmly. "Hold me tight," you gasp between jagged breaths. "Please... Please."

His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas.

Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he fucking knows.

He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you; like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.

Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. It's temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he'd buried himself deep; once his cock was guided safely into your throbbing cunt.

You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.

Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats. He mumbles this way as he teases; as he plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink of desperate sobs as he guides his cockhead over your slippery, throbbing cunt... over and over.... and over...

Saying he liked you needy was an understatement.

Then, eventually, he slips inside. Just the tip.. and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.

This is when he gives you a hint of his strength. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his strong arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.

He keeps you there, just with a taste of that fullness—a taste of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he says, simple and a little croaky.

You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily—his lips chasing yours as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Daryl," you gasp eventually. "Now. Please."

His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck.

Then he pulls you down to meet his cock, to fuck himself deep. It's hard, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his neck weakly as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.

Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.

You nod weakly in response.

His fingers press into your skin moments before he's moving, fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his messy thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.

He's got you.

His breathing is quickly transformed into uneven pants as he attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... aren't you, baby? Hm?"

One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.

"My girl," he grunts. "My needy little girl."

It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips and tugs you down to meet him as he uses you, each thrust a slapping of skin and punching a helpless sound from your lungs.

Strength. Everything you've been forced to remember.

"Daryl," you gasp. "Daryl, fill me. Please."

His fingers dig a little more into your skin, his hair falling over his eyes. Then his lips part, a grunt... a broken, "Fuck."

He falls over you as he floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full—just like you asked. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lung fulls of air. "I got you."

[gutsby]

Walker Bait

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Warnings: NSFW. Protected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Hatefucking, facefucking, and lots of dirty talk, leaning heavy on the “enemies” in the enemies-to-lovers trope. Mentions of a variety of sex toys and other filthy materials, including a blueberry-flavored condom and a walker wearing nipple clamps. 6.5k words.

“All ya gotta do is suck it.”

You were eye-level with the length of it now, all but staring down the barrel of the gun, so to speak. You wetted your lips, shifted uncomfortably on your knees. Then, almost reluctantly, you looked up at Daryl.

“What if it gets in my mouth?”

“It won’t.”

Daryl gripped the base of it with a sturdy hand and guided it closer to your mouth. You made a face as if to recoil, but Daryl was adamant. Insistent. One more false start and he’d probably just shove the thing down your throat. A man of many virtues he may have been, but patience was not among them.

“If I’d known you’d take this long I would’ve done it myself,” he scoffed.

You had just begun parting your lips to allow him entry, but on hearing this, you forced them shut, frowned, and opened them again just to retort:

“Why don’t you, then?! You wanna suck this shit so bad, be my guest.” You were already wobbling back onto your feet, wiping the dirt off your jeans and watching Daryl’s face turn even redder.

“‘Cause I’m teachin’ you, dipshit,” he snapped, “Can’t even tie yer fuckin’ shoes, but I figured ya maybe could siphon gas this once. My bad.”

And there it was: smug, shitstain Daryl ready to jump down your throat with another show of superiority. You couldn’t track, couldn’t forage, couldn’t hunt, couldn’t suck the gasoline out of a car or even put the hose in your mouth. You were useless in his eyes, and he was never shy to make sure you knew it. He looked you over once and hardly seemed to see you at all—just narrowed his eyes and flung the plastic tube in your direction.

Because Rick and all the rest of them were home, and you were here, scoping out the remnants of a seedy one stoplight town miles away, Daryl felt far more at liberty to act like a dick. He would’ve rather anyone been by his side but you, and he let you know as much, but somehow, in some sick and absurd twist of fate, you had been obliged to tag along. You sensed it was because you were the newest addition to Alexandria. And, quite frankly, because you sucked at every other task you’d been given, sucking gas out of cars was all that was left for you to do.

So easy a walker with a dislodged jaw could’ve done it. But you couldn’t. And Daryl despised you for it.

“Figure it out,” he muttered, turning on his heels to stalk off.

You weren’t sure if it was the irate glint in his eyes or the air of condescension in his tone, but you were floored. He’d made two, maybe three steps in the opposite direction when he felt something strike the black leather on his back. He turned again, dropped his gaze to the ground, and saw the plastic hose at his feet. When he looked back up, you were quick to trail behind, stomping past him without a second glance.

“Suck it yourself, asshole.” And you couldn’t help it; you gave him the finger over your shoulder.

You didn’t need eyes in the back of your head to see the rancid, sullen scowl plastered flat across Daryl’s face. Didn’t need ultrasonic hearing to catch him curse beneath his breath and kick something at his feet. You just kept walking in the other direction and hoped with everything you had he wouldn’t follow.

When you’d made it a ways down the street and Daryl hadn’t bothered to chase after you, you breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could raid the mini mart and loot canned foods to his heart’s content or prove himself useful in fifty other ways, and you could just explore.

From the looks of it, you were at the heart of this defunct podunk town and had virtually every amenity at your fingertips.

A barbershop on your right and a dive bar on your left, two boutiques with their windows all busted in, an unsightly patch of grass that once passed as a park, and one lone Texaco, almost treacherous in the light of day as it stood without a single car stationed at its pumps. “NO WAY OUT” emblazoned on a makeshift placard and half a dozen bodies littering the sidewalk before you.

Nothing quite like that small town Southern charm.

Against your better judgment, you went fishing in your back pocket for a few familiar friends to lift your spirits. First, the near-spent package of Virginia Slims, then the lighter, then your Walkman and headphones. An admittedly lethal combination for any would-be survivor of the apocalypse—limiting your hearing and crippling your lungs was no way to live in a world like this, Carol always warned before she snatched both culprits from your hands—but you didn’t care today. You were most of the way down the street and turning down a side avenue; if any walkers were in the vicinity, you figured you would’ve heard them moaning and groaning and dragging their boney asses behind you long before. By all appearances, you and Daryl were totally alone.

You thumbed one miniature flame into view and brought it close to the cigarette you had clamped between your teeth. Then you deposited the lighter back in your pocket, snapped your headset over your ears, and fiddled with the portable cassette player until the strains of some archaic Molly Hatchet tune went spiraling in your ears—“Bounty Hunter,” by the sounds of it.

You were walking at an easy pace now. Took a left off Main and strolled quietly onto Sheppard Street, careful to dodge every bottle, beer can, and rotting body you could. You took a drag and ogled some of the saddest storefronts you’d ever seen. Windows all blown to bits and insides looking like shit as every place appeared to be looted.

It wasn’t until you’d walked a little longer and made your way past the epicenter of the havoc that you saw any spot worth looking at. Where it seemed every other place for food, clothes, firearms, or frozen yogurt along this stretch of road was ransacked and dilapidated, you noticed one building that wasn’t.

In fact, it stopped you dead in your tracks and warranted a triple take to ensure you were seeing things properly the first time you saw it. Blinking with disbelief in the face of this scorching Georgia heat, came your first, unfathomable, ‘What the fuck?’

Juicy Peach Pleasure Shop—Take a bite inside!

There were some sick, twisted people in this world before the turn, that was for sure.

You made a beeline for the entrance.

Admittedly, you’d seen your fair share of funky ass sex shops in your day, but this one took the cake. All shuttered up and seemingly untouched since the world first went to shit—because who in their right mind was robbing a pocket pussy emporium in the midst of the apocalypse?—the store was in surprisingly pristine condition.

The inside was probably tiny and grimy and crawling with walkers—but it was also now your only hope to make yourself useful to the Alexandria community, you thought.

You quickly came to realize that this store would allow you to supply a truckload of sex toys and offer every adult back home the opportunity at a kinkier recreational outlet. With a stockpile of vibrators, ball gags, and anal beads alike, you could finally show them you were good for something. Maybe even worth keeping around, in spite of your subpar siphoning skills and the fact that you’d scared off nearly every animal Daryl attempted to hunt.

You’d be a Juicy Peach pioneer, and one that was likely to meet with tremendous success, if you could just…get the damn door open.

You gave the handle several violent shakes and thrust your body against the door, to no avail.

The sun’s rays were relentless on your back and already bringing a sheen of sweat to your skin, try as you might to keep your cool. You fooled around a few more seconds with the knob, found it hopelessly stuck in its position, and were about ready to abandon the task altogether when you felt the glass begin to give way. Instead of pushing the door, all you had to do was pull it open.

If you were around anyone else but yourself and the dead, you probably would’ve blushed. Would’ve taken a peek at your surroundings, perhaps lifted one half of your headset off your ears and tried to listen to see if anyone had heard. But no, you forged ahead, as careless and oblivious as you were engrossed in the present song’s guitar solo.

Should you have bothered to do either, you likely would’ve heard a set of feet sprinting in your direction and seen someone reaching for you in a hurry. Would’ve caught a glimpse of the stranger’s left hand before it clamped over your mouth or the right as it closed around your own on the door handle and yanked it back. The next thing you knew, you were being hauled inside and held tight against someone’s body, all but immobile in their grip and struggling to gasp for air.

Then a breath, hot on your ear as the person pulled you closer:

“Herd. Don’t move.”

You tensed in Daryl’s arms and watched the scene unfold before you. Just outside the store’s boarded windows, a super-sized group of geeks began to descend on the street where you’d just been standing. Seeing them shuffle, stumble, groan, and hiss their way down, you shuddered to think you hadn’t heard them at all—and would have been overrun in a minute if Daryl hadn’t intervened just then.

The man’s hand remained glued to your mouth, sensing you might shriek as you watched the horde grow in size.

Slowly, he backed you away from the door and started looking around.

“Daryl, I—” you began in a whisper, turning around to face him.

Before you could continue, a half-rotted corpse rose from the floor a few feet away and started toward you and Daryl. You fought your first inclination to scream, remembering your current predicament, and opted instead for a frantic, furious wave of your arm as you pointed behind Daryl.

The man leveled his crossbow in a blink and had a bolt lodged in the walker’s skull even faster. You watched the body crumple to the ground, just before another one of its companions came rounding the corner.

This time, Daryl slipped his dagger from the sheath on his belt and in a single, swift maneuver, drove the blade through the walker’s temple. You watched with widened, paralyzed eyes as this one, too, dropped fast to the floor. But when it did, you still couldn’t bring yourself to displace your gaze, for something bizarre had snagged your attention.

“What in the everliving fuck is tha’?” Daryl breathed, eyes stuck to the same sight as yours.

That rank, decayed biter had a pair of nipple clamps fastened to its chest.

Just as your mind raced to furnish the man with an answer, Daryl took a sweeping look around the place and scrunched his nose.

“Is this—”

“Daryl, I can explain—”

You watched the anger flare in his eyes as he turned.

“You got us trapped in a sex shop?” Daryl snarled.

Though neither of you were in a position to speak too far above a whisper with the walkers outside, it was painfully obvious that your partner was yearning to yell in your face. In an instant, he got within an inch of it and stood towering over you, seething between gritted teeth:

“Risked our lives for a fuckin’ vibrator?”

“How was I supposed to know?” you whispered back, gesturing wildly to the window behind you.

Daryl’s fingers curled into fists, and for a second it seemed like one was primed to strike the nearest surface, but he stopped. Unclenched his hands and simply glared down at you.

“Ain’t you a peach,” he muttered, low and slow, “Ain’t you a goddamn useless little peach, huh?”

He took off in the other direction, probably in search of a back exit.

You stood and silently scolded yourself for feeling even the slightest inkling of arousal at the last, sarcasm-soaked insult. What the hell was wrong with you?

You hung back another minute or so and weren’t surprised in the least when you heard Daryl groan out loud, coming to find the back door barricaded all the way to the ceiling.

“Sonovabitch!”

Taking one, apprehensive look out the window, you observed the herd hadn’t budged. They were moving and milling about, to be sure, but the bulk of them hadn’t wavered from the shop’s front stoop, leaving you and Daryl prisoners within these four walls.

You flinched when one of the walkers bumped its near-fleshless head against the glass. Silently, warily, you backed away and hoped it wouldn’t stray any further.

At length, none of them did.

Nearly an hour had passed before you could tear yourself away from the window, watching each doe-eyed, groaning monster outside like your life depended on it. Then Daryl came staggering back, all but drenched in sweat and slashed every which way down his arms. He’d been prying whatever stuff he could get from the exit, only to find that the door itself had been boarded up and jammed shut. The herd hadn’t stirred.

Daryl had barely been able to look at you when he demanded you start looking—for batteries, rope, whatever the hell you could find in this “depraved place.” You’d gone searching without another word, and the pair of you had been radio silent ever since. Combing over aisles of porn flicks and cock pumps and pretending like this wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing either of you had ever had to do.

When the opportunity to slip somewhere else first presented itself, you took it.

Toward the back of the store, you found a set of changing rooms. All cluttered with boxes and other junk but nevertheless a potential treasure trove for supplies. You eased your way in.

To your relief, there were only two half-rotted walkers making their rounds amongst the wreckage. You knifed them both and went calmly about your business.

And for awhile, it was just that—business. You were ecstatic to find two pairs of boxcutters, a dozen rolls of tape, and more rope than you knew what to do with. You had loaded your arms chock-full of finds, were just about to step outside to show Daryl, when a clothes rack caught your eye.

You turned your head and stopped to take in the sight.

On a single, flimsy hanger at the center of the shelf, there dangled a baby pink lace lingerie set.

You hadn’t seen anything that tantalizing, lithe, and sheer in a long, long time. You were practically drawn to it, feeling your feet shuffle clumsily in its direction and your arms drop every last item they held. Surely, then, you embodied everything a Victoria’s Secret salesman could’ve dreamed—so singularly focused on that stupid piece of clothing that you were literally stepping over dead bodies to get there.

If Daryl could see you then, he’d probably slap you upside the head.

“This ain’t a fashion show, sweetheart, we got the dead beatin’ down our front door!” You could almost hear him now.

Almost. Any hypothetical harangue from your supply run partner and every other pressing concern, it seemed, was lost on you now. All you knew was lace embroidery and plunging necklines, satin fabrics and fuck-me mesh open gussets.

You were clothed in the garment quicker than you could say, ‘Bad idea.’ You did a spin in the mirror.

A thousand dumb ideas danced before your mind’s eye as you placed your hands on your hips, moved your shoulders in sync, gave your ass a little shake. It was ridiculous, but you just hadn’t thought of yourself that way in so long; it was like you were staring at a brand new reflection. Years in a noxious, nightmarish world like the one you currently inhabited would do that. Turn a person into a bloodless stoic, so focused on the means of survival that they couldn’t even say a simple—

“What the fuck?!”

Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw Daryl’s form appear in the corner of the mirror. You quickly covered your tits and turned back to look at him.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Daryl, I—”

“You off yer fuckin’ rocker or sumn’?” Daryl spat, striding right over to you, “We got a whole pack of walkers champin’ at the bit to get us outside, and yer in here playin’ dress up?!”

Daryl clenched his jaw and shoved the clothes rack to the side, sending it tumbling over the two dead walkers with a crash. You hugged your arms to your chest even tighter.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, to try and apologize once more, Daryl shoved a thick, angry finger in your face.

“If you go and get yer dumbass devoured by a dildo-wielding geek, tha’s on you. I ain’t fuckin’ comin’ ta save ya no more.”

Damn if the man didn’t have a way with words, even when he was fuming out the ears.

You glanced down and immediately wished you hadn’t. Or had, sooner. Your blue-eyed nemesis was currently sporting the largest hard-on you thought you’d ever seen.

Daryl looked down too and seemed only to grow in his anger, if that were even possible, as it appeared he was infuriated at the sight below him. Enraged with his own erection.

You almost would’ve found this predicament amusing if you weren’t still afraid Daryl might throw you over his shoulder and feed you to the herd outside. Deciding to play it safe, you kept your mouth shut and stood with your hands clasped in front of you. Eyed the outline of his dick only once. Okay, maybe twice.

When your eyes traveled back up to his face in a nervous gaze, you found that Daryl was glaring at you. A hand hovered uncertainly above his belt buckle.

“Fuck it.” You heard him say under his breath before suddenly reaching for you.

Your whole body tensed in his calloused hands as he shoved you toward the door, gripping your wrists behind your back and thrusting you ahead.

You dug your heels into the floor, uselessly, trying to stop your vicious path past the changing rooms and into the store. Your eyes widened as you saw an even larger horde amassed beyond the front door, and for several, fleeting seconds you seriously thought that Daryl might throw you out there.

“Daryl, please,” you wailed, thrashing against him, “I didn’t mean it, I was being stupid—you don’t have to do this!”

At the center of the store, Daryl stopped. Spun you around shortly to face him.

“What?”

“Don’t feed me to the herd, please, I’m begging you.” Your stomach clenched with fear.

Daryl’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. If you weren’t so goddamn terrified, you would’ve detected that tiny change was in fact amusement.

“‘M not gon’ feed you to the walkers, girl,” he grunted, all matter-of-fact. Then, just as calmly, “‘M gonna fuck you over this counter.”

Oh.

It seemed your World War Z nightmare-fantasy had taken a pornographic turn. The meaning of his words hardly registered in your brain before he shuttled you off to the cashier’s counter at the front of the store. Before you knew it, you were lying flat on a cold, glass surface and staring straight out into a sea of undead faces a few yards ahead. You swallowed.

You flinched with another grating sensation, this time at your wrists.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Daryl binding your hands together behind your back. Where he had obtained the black BDSM rope in the time it had taken him to bring you here was beyond you.

“Not to be a Debbie Downer here or anything, but isn’t this...kind of…dangerous?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the walkers outside the window.

“Don’t care.” Daryl pulled the rope even tighter.

“But they can hear us if they’re right outside.”

From your vantage point, it seemed Daryl was ready to yank your hair and pound you senseless. Instead, he smiled. Gave your ass a light pat.

“Then you’d be wise to keep tha’ pretty mouth of yours shut while I’m fuckin’ ya, sunshine.”

Daryl pressed one quick kiss on your shoulder before bounding off in the other direction. You shimmied helplessly against your restraints as you tried to flip yourself over.

“You’re sick, Dixon. You’re a sick son of a bitch, I hope you know that,” you whisper-shouted after him. You doubt he heard you but had a sneaking suspicion he’d already seen the soaked-through spot between your legs to disprove it even if he had. You pressed your head to the counter and cursed your primal instincts for turning your lower half into an uncomely mess every time a man twice your age said something mean to you.

You would’ve liked to have leaned back—or, rather, forward—and said a big ‘fuck you’ to Molly Hatchet as well for getting you into this bind in the first place, were it not for the sound of Daryl’s footsteps returning.

“Listen, I learned my lesson, Dar. If you could just untie me, we would be a lot better off figuring out a way to escape this place than—”

You yelped as something smacked your ass. It wasn’t Daryl’s hand.

“Ouch!” You strained against the rope once more, only succeeding in wiggling your ass before Daryl’s pleasantly occupied eyes.

“C’mon now, it ain’t tha’ bad, honey. Stuff’s meant to feel good,” he chided. Another strike on your ass check punctuated his words.

He was right; it didn’t really hurt. Just felt strange, all bent over and exposed before him like that. You glanced back and saw the crop in his hands, the smug look on his face, and for a second, you did feel a twinge of pleasure as you imagined him doing much more.

You whimpered when he spanked you again—this time, with the flattened palm of his hand.

“Better?” Daryl quipped, grinning.

The second you nodded your head, you heard the sound of the crop clatter to the floor behind you. Daryl swiftly took your ass in both hands and started kneading the skin. Really digging his fingers into the flesh and sending shockwaves trembling all through your body.

“Rick’s the only reason yer here, y’know,” Daryl said behind you. You yelped when he smacked your ass again, and you curled your toes into the linoleum below.

The man rubbed the spot as soon as he’d struck it, palming your skin like it was the softest, smoothest thing he’d ever felt.

“Thinks you’d be an asset.” Another slap on your rear.

“I told him he don’t know wha’ the fuck he’s talkin’ ‘bout. Said you were ‘bout as useful as a one-legged man in an ass-kickin’ contest.”

You fought back a chuckle. That was pretty good.

And when he spanked your ass another time, the sting didn’t hurt as much. You propped your chin on the surface beneath you, pursed your lips, and actually suppressed the threat of a moan.

“I said ya were a liability,” Daryl continued, “Didn’t know no fuckin’ manners neither.”

At that, you were tempted to speak, almost wanting to defend yourself against his baseless accusations. But Daryl stopped that from happening, as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and arched your back up to meet his face, half-standing.

“I think ya need me ta teach ya some manners, how ‘bout tha’?” he growled in your ear.

If the warmth pooling between your legs couldn’t answer for you, you decided words would have to do. You nodded and said, “Uh-huh.”

Daryl threw you back onto the counter and gave your ass another brutal smack.

“‘Uh-huh’ don’t sound too polite to me, sugar,” he said sharply, cruelly. He didn’t soothe your backside with the pulse of his fingers and stood back from you instead.

“Yes...y-yes sir,” you stammered out, legs trembling underneath you.

Your feet were slightly raised, all but standing on tip-toes to keep your body propped up against the counter, and you were suddenly aware that your cunt was plainly exposed. The open gusset in your lacy attire seemed to have spread even further, swelling with the size of your now-engorged folds and probably displaying yourself to Daryl in all the worst ways.

The man groaned behind you.

You sensed some fabric shuffle, the clink of a belt come undone, and finally a tongue—pressed flat against you and licking a stripe up your oozing heat.

You shuddered forward on the tabletop and let out a lewd-sounding squeal. Your eyes widened at the sight ahead of you as you swore you could’ve seen a walker turn their rotted head in your direction outside. Daryl clamped a hand over your mouth.

“Now tha’s— what we’re not gonna do,” he whispered through gritted teeth, “We’re not gonna make one fuckin’ sound so the geeks out there can stay right where they are. Ya hear me?”

Daryl’s hand moved to your throat and pinched it in a vicious grip when you didn’t answer him.

“Ya hear me?”

You managed one strangled ‘Yes sir’ and left your lips parted as Daryl placed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on them. He stepped back again.

You heard some other quiet stirrings behind you as Daryl fiddled with something above your back. Frankly, you were already too lust-struck and cum-hungry to care, breathing out in soft, gentle puffs of air as you tried to rein in your reeling mind. You watched the walkers for a minute, tried to ground yourself in the unsavory reality all around you—the precarious position you were currently standing in, as one stray stumble of one of those undead shitheads might veritably mean the end of you and Daryl’s lives as you knew it—and you sighed. Scanned your eyes across the sea of wretched, fleshy heads and wanted to hurl.

At present, Daryl stroked your lower back with the tips of his fingers.

“Y’know, it’s been real tough ta find anything useful here,” he mused aloud, running his touch over your skin and sending a flurry of goosebumps in its path, “Ain’t nothin’ worth keepin’ here, really—‘cept maybe some dirty magazines.”

You internally rolled your eyes. Good for you, Daryl.

Then he lifted his hand and dragged it down a little further, causing you to clench your legs and snag your bottom lip between your teeth.

“But I got curious, see…” Daryl’s forefinger followed the contour of your ass and slid down between your cheeks, traveling lazily ‘til he reached your aching core. He sank that same finger deep between your folds and circled around in your heat, eliciting a strained whimper above as he gathered your juices.

“Daryl—” you whined.

“Don’t interrupt,” Daryl growled, slapping your pussy.

You winced and let out the smallest of moans. Daryl smirked.

“I found some stuff,” he resumed, “Might actually make this little trip worthwhile.”

You panted in your current position, hardly hearing a word he said.

When he lifted something else to your heat, you did quickly sense that his wasn’t any part of his hand, or even his cock. You squirmed in place but didn’t speak.

“Found batteries,” Daryl declared, as though it were the grandest discovery he’d ever made.

“Ya know what batteries are good for, darlin’?” You could almost hear the grin in his voice.

Before you could answer, you felt a fierce pulse at your center. A tremor, a throb, an artificial oscillation.

A vibration.

You moaned.

Daryl twirled the tip of a pink vibrator against your clit and pressed.

So overcome with that raw, potent jolt, you couldn’t help it when you cried, “Fuck, Daryl!”

Daryl didn’t cover your mouth, but he did withdraw the device from your slit for a moment, just to whisper in your ear to shut. the fuck. up. The two of you ogled the swarm of walkers once more and stood in muted suspense. Waiting for one to turn toward the glass.

Not a single set of eyes drifted in your direction.

Bent over you with a buzzing vibrator at your core, Daryl couldn’t deny the rush was...addictive. He pushed the thing a little deeper and smiled when you stifled a moan.

“Ya might’ve been right comin’ all the way out here after all,” Daryl teased, “This shit’s way more fun than suckin’ gas, don’t ya think?”

You buried your face in the glass and wanted to scream when Daryl’s fingers started sliding in and out of your hole.

You were being so good, not making a sound, eyes all but welled up with tears at the pleasure that was coursing through your body. Daryl rubbed your back with his other hand and seemed to be treating you a little gentler now.

“Aw, tha’s my girl,” he said, words ripe with condescension. He traced his palm up the length of your spine and kept fingering you quietly. You barely even noticed that the vibrator was designed to hook inside you, still punishing your clit as it quivered away at the sensitive spot within your walls.

“Who woulda thought all it would take ta shake that disobedience away was a couple’a fingers in yer cunt and a stupid little toy.”

You were far too close to your release to give a shit about his patronizing speech; you bucked your hips against his hand, his front, and gritted your teeth as a tender bubble of pleasure grew deep within your belly. Then, to your surprise, you felt Daryl clasp your fingers while they were still knotted with rope behind you and squeezed them.

“Tha’s a good girl. Cum all over me, make tha’ pussy feel nice f’me, c’mon.”

You followed his command in short order and released all over his hand, humping his fingers and humming through a muffled shriek as you came.

Daryl beamed with pride and hardly had it in him to look away, notwithstanding the growing throng of walkers close ahead of you. He uncurled his fingers, slid them out, and took a nice, long taste of his hand while he watched you writhe underneath him.

“Take it out!” you hissed, thrashing against the vibrator still buzzing within you, “Take it out, take it out, take it out!”

In truth, you’d never felt so fucking good in your life. You surprised yourself when you stood there another couple seconds and came again, clenching repeatedly over the tiny pink toy and groaning into the condensation-dampened glass.

“FUCK!” you screamed, this time with no hint of restraint.

Daryl’s eyes bulged out of his head, and he yanked the thing out of you. Gaze darting to the window in a petrified look.

One walker paused in place and craned its neck with the slowest of motions. It stared blankly at the window before it but didn’t move. Daryl saw its mouth open and close, wheezing something violent, and stared another few seconds before shuffling back to its previous path. Daryl closed his eyes.

“What did I say about—” he started to whisper down to you, but you cut him short,

“We need a safe word or something, Daryl. This is too fuckin’ risky.”

You were right about that. Daryl straightened up and tucked the vibrator in his pocket, before wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Yeah? How ‘bout ‘Walker Bait’?” he muttered, rubbing his face.

Then he was fumbling with the rope around your wrists and loosening it up. His heart was still thudding in his chest, scared half to death with the narrow miss you’d just had, though he didn’t want you to see it. He turned around as soon as you’d gotten free.

“Fine by me,” you grumbled back.

You watched Daryl disappear down a random aisle and felt obliged to cross your arms over your chest, pivoting back to the walkers with a wary gaze.

And, just when you started to wander back into the recesses of your mind, watching the swarm grow thicker and thicker and starting to doubt you’d ever escape this nightmare, you felt Daryl’s hands on you again. Squeezing your hips and turning you to face him.

“Jump,” he ordered.

You did as he said and locked your legs around his waist, welcomed by the familiar feeling of the counter behind you as Daryl pressed your bodies into it. He half-braced you against it, half-held you in his arms as he fingered something small and delicate beneath you.

Your smile widened at the sight of a condom wrapper being torn in two, and grew even bigger when you caught a glimpse of the rubber itself.

It was bright blue and littered with ridges. You laughed.

“The hell is that, Dixon?” you asked, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle your amusement.

Daryl gingerly dragged the cobalt-colored condom over his length and made a face.

“Ain’t a single damn rubber here for normal people,” he grunted, “This one’s fuckin’ blueberry flavored.”

At the last, neither of you could contain your laughter as you both stared down at the bizarre blue condom stretching over Daryl’s cock. You scooted forward just a little.

“Never a dull moment with you, is there, Dar?” you said as you pushed his chest lightly. Telling him to step back so you could hop down and sink to the floor in front of him.

Daryl sucked in a breath as you took his shaft in your hands. He slapped a hand on the countertop and squeezed when your tongue darted past your lips.

Surely he couldn’t get a fruit-flavored condom and not expect you to give it a taste.

With the base of his cock between your fingers, you licked a long, wide line up his dick and moaned.

“Doesn’t taste much like blueberries,” you hummed, feigning disappointment as you gazed up at Daryl. He gripped the counter even harder and gritted his teeth to suppress a groan.

Regardless of the unsavory artificial flavor, you took the head of his cock between your lips and sucked. Bobbed your head up and down over his length as though trying to get a real mouthful of those so-called berry juices. You found yourself sorely dissatisfied with the taste but more than compensated for this loss in the form of Daryl’s throaty moans above you. It seemed he was letting loose on the restraints to keep quiet and finally gripping your hair, rutting into your mouth.

“Ah, honey, tha’s’it. Tha’s a good little slut,” he panted as he pushed you further down on his cock.

You tried not to gag when he grazed the back of your throat but couldn’t control the reflex. Daryl groaned even louder above you.

In a second, you were plucked off his bright blue boner and taken back into his arms, then shoved on the surface behind you.

“I ain’ fuckin’ waitin’ no more. Ya done achin’ for daddy’s cock?”

You nodded that you were. You readily accepted Daryl’s lips on your own and his tongue pushed deep in your mouth as he showered you with a string of sloppy kisses. Shifted you in his arms almost viciously, frantically, before bringing you down on his cock.

The second you were fully impaled on him, the two of you groaned. You bucked your hips and he rutted his, bouncing you up and down again and again with no time at all to adjust to his size.

All that could be heard in the deserted store was the sounds of your skin slapping against one another, punctuated every now and then with strangled moans and stifled whimpers. You steadied your hands on either one of his shoulders and stared, deeply, in Daryl’s half-hooded eyes. He panted out a breathy sigh as you clenched around him.

“Tha’s right, girl, fuckin’ take it. Take this fuckin’ cock like it’s yours,” he growled.

“It is mine, Daryl,” you bit back, grinding even harder, “Tell me it’s mine.”

Daryl’s jaw seemed to slacken just a bit, evidently aroused by the sound of you talking so dirty to him. In a blink, he was digging his nails in your sides and saying,

“It’s yours, baby. All fuckin’ yours.”

If someone had told you at the start of the day that this was how your dreaded supply run with Daryl would go, you wouldn’t have believed them. As your once-despised partner drilled you even deeper and caught your lips in a frenzied kiss, you still almost couldn’t comprehend it now. You bounced, and you writhed, and you rolled your desperate hips against him, but how in the fuck did this happen?

The moment Daryl dropped his thumb to your clit, you decided you didn’t care.

Your walls hugged him even tighter as he drew loose circles all over your swollen nub, and your head fell back. Daryl held you even tighter.

“Gonna cum again f’me? Gonna cum all over this cock?” he goaded you as your heels dug deep in his lower back.

All you could do was nod again—bring your lazy, fucked-out gaze back to Daryl and murmur in what hardly felt like words to you at all:

“Y-yes, daddy, yes.”

Daryl smiled at the sound of that word on your lips and thrusted his hips even harder, fucking you fast to build the friction on your sensitive, trembling walls.

That, paired with the flick of his thumb on your clit and the narrowing eyes holding you tight to his gaze—wordlessly coaxing you to cum for him now, make daddy proud—sent your senses spiraling into ecstasy. You released all over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and gripped him harder than you ever had before.

Before another scream could escape your lips, Daryl yanked you closer for a kiss and attempted to swallow every sound as his own orgasm surged inside him. You felt the man move both hands to your sides, seize them, and all but crush the bones beneath his fingers as he fucked you hard against the counter. He shot his load in the condom and groaned against your mouth.

Two former enemies, fucked out like a couple of crazed fools, stayed glued in place and blinked back at one other like you hardly understood what had just happened. Grinning nonetheless.

As Daryl leaned in for one last kiss, the pair of you froze—something rapped against the window.

The two of you turned and almost swore you could’ve felt your stomachs fall to the floor.

The herd of walkers outside, seemingly doubled in size, now stood at full attention at the storefront. Every undead, rotted head turned straight to face you.

They looked real fucking hungry.

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumpuary Day 9-10

Prompt: “Stay. Please.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries

A/N: This one is just a drabble. I was not in a great mood when I wrote it and it probably reflects that. I’m sorry for the subpar work. I hope you still love me.😭

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“Daryl, she needs you.” Carol implored, blocking the infirmary exit. The archer tried to side-step but the woman just knew him too well and moved with him. 

“Damnit, move!” Daryl all but roared at his best friend. He knew she meant well, he did. But he had to stop them. He couldn’t let them hurt anyone else. He’d failed enough by allowing them to get to you. It was eating him alive. He didn’t know how else to deal with the guilt. It was fueling his rage like gasoline on a fire. 

“You’re not thinking straight!”

“M’thinkin’ jus’ fine! Move, Carol!”

“You can’t go out there like this!”

“I can’ believe this! Ya saw wha’ they did ta ‘er!”

“And that’s why you need to stay!”

“Nah, tha’s why I gotta—”

“Daryl.” Your voice was low, strained. It was weak. But he heard it. Of course he heard it. The archer didn’t give Carol a second glance when he crossed the space to you in two long strides. The silver-haired woman walked behind him with her arms crossed, eyes rolled. She knew all it would take was your specific persuasion to calm Daryl down. She was only hoping to hold him off long enough for you to awaken. 

“Hey, m’right here.” He sat down on the edge of your bed in the infirmary, his hip pressed against yours. You looked so small, fragile in the large bed. Pale and bruised with stitched lacerations and butterfly sutures. “Yer gon’ be okay, ya hear me?”

Your smile was tired and small but it was genuine. “I know I am.” You opened your hand and he took it immediately, pressing his lips to your busted knuckles. “I know I am because you’ll be here to protect me, won’t you?” You blinked slowly and watched his expression fall. 

“Ya know I gotta—”

“You don’t gotta do anything.” He looked like he might start to argue so you began to sit up, wincing with an arm around your middle to brace your broken ribs. Daryl was all don’ do that and stay still but you showed him what it felt like for your pleas to be ignored. Finally upright, you panted while Carol rushed to lift the head of the bed for you. You could breathe easier sitting up. You could also look your husband in the eye properly. “All you need to do is be here with me until a plan can be made.”

Carol smirked, seeing the very moment Daryl’s resolve began to crumble. When he glanced at her, most likely for backup he knew he’d never get, she was quick to turn her head, her smile hidden behind her hand. 

He sighed, deeply but not yet resigned. “I can’ jus’—”

“Stay.” You whispered, bringing the hand that was still holding yours to your cheek. “Stay. Please.” 

And that was that. 

Carol closed the door behind her just as Daryl situated himself on the bed with you so you could settle against his chest. When it came to Daryl Dixon, there was nothing anyone could say or do once he had set his mind on something. Except she now had a secret weapon. 

You. 

Taglist:

@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47

[rickswh0r3]

this song with him.

taglist : @colt-python @narcissismand @epilepsywarrior8787 @murdadixon @ririi-3 @walker-bait-1973 @versatilehater @chibsgirl143

[lubbybarry]

Hey walker bait

[catnteawrites]

Braiding Daryl’s hair

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Warnings: none Word count: 0.6k . A/N: Sooo, this one took me was longer than I wanted it to because I was kind of busy and probably will be in the following week. Still, enjoy the fluffff <3

After finally getting comfortable around you, Daryl felt like the luckiest guy alive. He had someone to come back to after hunts; he had someone to share a house with in Alexandria; he had someone who loved him.

And in this moment, it was chewing on his ass.

You were babysitting little Judith while Rick had to handle something when Daryl came back from working on his bike in the garage. It had been a pretty relaxed day so far, and you were doing the little girl's hair while he ate and talked with the both of you.

The next thing he knows, he's seated on the couch in your living room, with you sitting on your knees and the little girl next to you handing you colourful ribbons and bows while instructing you where to use them on his head.

"I look ridiculous," he grumbled, looking at the small mirror the child handed him. You smirked, running your hands through his hair and twisting it into braids.

"Really? Jude, do you think he looks ridiculous?" You asked the tiny human being

"No! Do you really not like it?" She asked the archer with a disappointed pout, knowing exactly how to play him like a fiddle.

"S fine.." He said not wanting to hurt the child's feelings while you chuckled behind him and secretly winked at her. You loved how he, the man everyone in Alexandria was scared and sceptical of at first, was being so soft and caring towards children.

Daryl was finally relaxing, focusing on the comforting movements of your fingers in his hair instead of the unicorn-shit-looking situation on top of his head. His girls were happy, and he was happy.

Until…

"Hey Y/N, I came to pick up Ju-" In that moment, when Rick walked into the room, gasping at his best friend before he burst out laughing, Daryl would rather have been walker bait. He felt heat engulf him from head to toe, and he scowled.

"Got somethin to say?" He challenged him, glaring at his friend.

"The colour makes your eyes pop," Rick said as he ducked to evade the flying pillow.

…

"Thanks again for watching her, Y/N."

"Any time!" You hugged the girl goodbye. "Good night, guys!"

"Good night, auntie Y/N, uncle Daryl!" You closed the door and turned to a pissed Daryl.

"Now I definitely didn’t need tha today," he scoffed while wrestling with a bow. You returned to the sofa and sat beside him, placing your chin on his right shoulder and your right hand on his upper arm.

"And yet you sat there all because a little girl asked you too. Is it possible that Daryl Dixon is just a huge softie?" You teased him before he turned around, grabbed you by the waist, and brought you in front of him.

"Ya better stop calling me soft woman." He put his forehead against yours, glancing at your lips, then looking back at your eyes with a tiny smirk forming.

"You trying to threaten me with all those bows and ribbons in your hair is the equivalent of an angry kitten, Dixon. A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E." You said it in a quiet tone, bringing your lips closer to his.

"Don’t test me, sunshine." He finally pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. He wasn’t a fan of getting his hair braided, but hell, he definitely wasn’t going to miss out on moments like these because of it. "Now take this crap out before I have to start killin witnesses."

[cultofdixon]

At least there’s no bears

Daryl Dixon • They/Them Pronouns • Usually Daryl can see where the traps lay…but then you got caught • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Blood Loss / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

Daryl slowly sat up in his bed knowing he has the hunt today and that his partner will be joining him. Which meant he had to get ready and then drag their ass out of bed so they could get ready.

Once they both were ready, Y/N stretched their back out waiting for the archer who was currently informing the early bird Rick on their whereabouts for the morning.

“Hey, eat” Daryl startles them out of their thoughts as they tiredly take the protein bar handed to them and started to dig in while they walk to the gates.

It was a cold and nice morning for the two to go on foot for the entirety of the hunt. Even if Y/N does miss his bike to at least go a bit further out.

“You still waking up?”

“Meh.” They shrug adjusting the rifle on their back as they held onto the strap while looking around. “Why do we have to hunt early? Like. It’s what 5AM?”

“Have a watch to confirm that?” Daryl laughs a bit only to be hit with a pebble in the back of the head. As he quickly whips back, Y/N pretended like nothing happened only for him to playfully glare. “I’d be careful of any left behind traps. Don’t think there’s anything as serious as a bear trap but better to be aware”

“Why do people hunt bears? Some of them may be stupid, then others just want to steal your picnic baskets”

Daryl stopped once more only for Y/N to run right into him from not paying attention. He gave them a confused look.

“For someone who had a brother with only a few working brain cells. He didn’t watch cartoons? YOU didn’t watch cartoons?”

“Yogi bear”

“SEE YOU DID”

“Merle only watched cartoons or fights”

“Sounds very Merle coded” Y/N laughs a bit as they branched off a bit into a different direction to check out a bush with fruit on it.

The archer kept an eye on them for the most part, not like they would need the extra set of eyes since their first response in danger is to fight or find the closest hiding spot. They were also one of those adventure types from the old world and would almost always be outside so he knew that they knew about certain signs of danger and especially what’s poisonous or not.

“Those berries good?”

“Nah. But it could be good bait for small critters that can have it” Y/N plucked a handful as the two quickly turned to the sudden scurry that was too quick for a walker and Daryl went to follow.

When the tracks came up empty, Daryl was hit in the head again and turned to Y/N who had just caught up to him.

“What?”

“Did yea hit me with a berry?”

“No but thanks for the idea” Y/N laughs kneeling down to grab the acorn that fell, also grabbing the few acorn caps off the ground. “You ever wear these on your finger tips? As a kid?”

“And pretend your fingers were friends or some shit”

“That’s incredibly sad. If only I lived near the forest in Georgia then we would’ve been friends. Always find me in the trees”

“City kid?”

“Yeah but my sister always took me to the park to get outside and yknow, also not to hear bickering soon-to-be divorced parents” They laugh a bit as they took one of Daryl’s hands to put an acorn cap on one of his fingers before finding another bush in their peripheral to go investigate.

Daryl looks at the little acorn cap they put on his finger and thought it was cute of them, but before a smile could even grace his features. Fear shot right through him.

“son of a—-FUCK!” Y/N yells as their voice echoed through the forest followed by the thud of their body hitting the ground. They looked down to find the bear trap latched onto their left ankle. “Fuck fuck FUCK” they were too afraid to move and once Daryl finally came over.

The color in his face drained as he knelt down to assess what happened.

“You should’ve watched where you were going”

“Seriously?!” Y/N snaps at him for stating an annoying yet obvious response. Only for the sudden jerk to worsen the pain as they couldn’t look at their blood drain from their body or they might pass out. “Oh god”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ—-We gotta get this shit off yea without taking the foot”

“Oh”

“Oh?!” Daryl stops messing with it to lock eyes with Y/N a moment as neither exchanged a word. “What the fuck is happening right now?! Did I hurt yea further or—-“

“SOMEONE HAS TO BE THE CALM ONE”

“DEFINITELY DOESNT GOTTE BE YOU”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE THE WALKERS HEAR YOUR YELLING” Y/N snaps only for Daryl to cover their mouth waiting for the snap of twigs he heard to just be a critter and not what they had said a few seconds ago.

“I wish yea didn’t adapt your feelings to the situation when you’re the goddamn one that’s injured.”

“Freaking out to my full potential will only make me sob and the pain a whole lot worse” Y/N squeezed their eyes shut to fight back the tears as it was starting to get way worse. They carefully took their belt off even if it meant shifting, a wince, and Daryl flinching to the pain response. “Tourniquet”

“Smart. Very smart” Daryl takes the belt from them and got started applying such above their ankle before assessing what he should do next.

A lot of blood.

A lot of fucking blood.

It’s a 2hr window before they might lose it even with a tourniquet.

Y/N watches as Daryl thinks too loud in front of them. They were worrying about him even if they are the one bleeding less now. They clear their throat to get his attention as his expression instantly went to stress and worry thinking something worse was happening.

“Take the bear trap off, wrap the wound in your bandana, then carry me home so Denise can patch me up” their voice was shaky after silently crying a bit to themselves. Daryl did exactly what they said, a bit confused why they were so clear minded about it.

Next thing they knew, Daryl was carrying Y/N on his back all the way back to Alexandria.

“This shouldn’t have happened…”

“D, come on…”

“I knew this area had fuckin’ traps last time I was out. Should’ve taken them out before dragging you out here”

“You didn’t drag me out here” Y/N frowns. “And you would’ve gotten yourself caught in a bear trap. It just happens by accident”

“You shouldn’t have come…”

“I wanted to. You asked and I said yes…even if you didn’t I would’ve come out to find you if you’re didn’t leave a note like you usually do” They rest their head on his shoulder trying not to let the blood loss beat them with the exhaustion. “Shits unpredictable sometimes…”

“You’re too optimistic sometimes” Daryl sighs, listening to them hum in agreement as he felt their body shift against him. Making his anxiety pick up the pace to get to Alexandria.

It’s been a few hours and Y/N woke up exhausted but at least patched up and in the infirmary. They noticed they were alone but at least there was crutches to help them get around.

As they managed to get up and out of the building, Daryl was starting to head back to them carrying something when he noticed them on the crutches.

“You’re supposed to stay in the fuckin’ bed”

“Don’t tell me what to do” Y/N scoffs. “I wanna be in my bed. With you. Thank you very much” they were about to move past him when Daryl took their crutches leaving them still in a flamingo pose. “Daryl. Don’t be a dick”

“Let me set shit down inside and I’m carrying yea to bed. And ain’t taking no for an answer”

“Then can you hurry up? You or Denise or whoever took my jacket and I’m cold” Y/N frowns waiting for Daryl, watching him go inside the house leaving them out there longer than they had wanted.

But Daryl came back out in a little bit of a sprint with one of his sweaters, helping them get it on before picking them up bridal style and going toward the house.

“You gonna be nurse back to health?”

“Ain’t leavin’ yea that’s for sure”

“You’re sweet”

“You’d fall down the stairs if I left yea alone”

“I think I’m gonna take back calling you sweet” Y/N laughs resting their head on his shoulder as he pushes every door he had to open with his foot. Eventually getting to their room and setting them on the bed.

The archer carefully propped up their ankle using his pillow and covered them with his blanket. Y/N got comfortable watching Daryl move around the room moving a few things but then he left to grab something.

When he came back a moment later, Y/N had fallen asleep given their body was still wiped out and the drugs Denise gave them still floated around. Daryl set the glass of water on their nightstand along with fresh bandages for when they wake up so he could put new ones on. In the mean time, he moved to his side of the bed taking his boots off before bringing his whole self beside them.

Y/N opened their eyes a sec to see him beside them as they carefully moved their self close enough to bring their head on his shoulder. Daryl rests his head on top of theirs taking the time to finally relax.

“At least there wasn’t any bears”

“Shut up and go to sleep”

[atarathegreat]

ZombieLand Tokyo Revengers

ft: Takemichi Hanagaki, Ken Ryuguji, Izana Kurokawa, Manjiro Sano

Because when the end of the world takes your lover from you, what else can you do but search for her endlessly?

"I just need help!" Takemichi yelled at the men on top of the makeshift gates. Cars, trucks, even porches were used to create the effective barrier. "Look!" He held up a photo, "I just need help finding this woman!"

The men laughed at him and told him they weren't some search and rescue team. Of course they'd say that, Takemichi thought, why should they risk their lives to help solve my problem? He'd never been in lower spirits and it made him want to curl up and die. His wife, his beautiful wife, was gone. Taken and never returned by the stupid circumstances they found themselves in. The end of the world seems so impossible until you're staring down the maw of another human who's brainless and wants to eat yours.

Months passed, the cold weather setting in and making his hope of finding you shrivel up. Japan was huge, but maybe word could still get around, maybe you'd still come back to him. Or at the very least he could find your corpse wandering around searching for an arm to gnaw on. Hell, maybe he'd even let you take him out. That didn't sound like such a bad way to go. Lost in his thoughts, Takemichi didn't notice the group of survivors circling him in the department store. Or maybe he had? He couldn't tell anymore, all he wanted was his wife.

"Hey." He jolted at the sudden hand on his chest, "Our boss wants you."

Takemichi scoffed out a laugh, walking around they guy while saying something about minding his own business and not pissing anyone off. "Seriously?" Another person came from the shadows, gun to his face, "You're coming with us."

"I've had more guns pointed at me than I care for." Takemichi slumped and let his body hit the floor, "If your boss wants me that badly, drag me."

He hadn't expected them to, but they grabbed his arms and legs and carried him through the infested city. For once, Hanagaki was able to rest and sleep. He dreamed of finally finding her and holding her, crying into her lap as he always had before when it got to be too much. He missed her gentle hold and the way she just knew how to comfort him. As the two struggled to carry him up the stairs into another building, he heard snickering.

"Michi, get up! Stop making them carry you!" There she was, sitting amongst a bigger group of people and children. He didn't care who he fell over, screaming apologies as he crashed into her. She laughed as he stumbled, holding him close as he wrapped around her like a child, crying into her oversized coat. "A winter coat, anyone." She called, her hands rubbing at him to heat up his body, "It's getting colder, Michi. Haven't you tried to keep warm?"

Group after group, camp after camp, and yet Kenny couldn't find her anywhere. He kept his search to himself, he didn't need people feeling bad for him if it turned up that she was dead. Mitsuya knew, of course, because Kenny couldn't just let his brother deal with this shit alone, especially when his sisters were with him.

"She's around somewhere." Kenny sighed, downing a beer they'd managed to scavenge. He hadn't wanted to search the liquor store, but they were running out of options anymore. "If she's alive, she's searching for us, right?" He looked to his friend for assurance. Kenny needed for her to be looking for him, too. He needed to know that she was trying to get back to him. Mitsuya patted him on the back, but said nothing. Last time he tried to comfort his friend it ended in them fist fighting and attracting the attention of a local camp. A camp that, from what they heard, was ruthless and wouldn't hesitate to use them as walker bait.

Kenny looked around the small, four person squad he was leading around. Two women and Mitsuya, all depending on him and he was more worried about finding someone that might be dead. He sighed again, his chest feeling tighter as he cracked open another lukewarm beer.

"Hands!"

Luna and Mana hit the ground as Mitsuya and Kenny stood to aim their own weapons at the intruders. A feeling of pride filled Kenny as he realized the cohesion of his miniscule legion. "Who's there?" Mitsuya called, his eyes trained on the shadows.

"Guns down!" Another yell came from behind them, "I said weapons down! I won't have any qualms shooting any of you!"

Kenny's wife stepped from the shadows and around them all with a gun trained ahead, a gun that was definitely too big for her, "Down, damn it! Lower them!"

"Captain-"

"Down!" She screamed and the sound of many, many weapons hitting the ground followed before she turned to them again, "I found you."

Izana was an unbothered man on the surface, but Kakucho knew his friend was slowly losing it. He was more reckless, less attentive, and overall a danger to the survival of their group as a whole. More than once had the Haitani brothers debated Izana's ability to lead them safely. It wasn't something Kakucho was proud of, but he was also second guessing it. How were they to survive in this hell if the one leading them didn't seem to care anymore?

He didn't know, but he wouldn't stop following.

"She's been here, Kakucho." Izana smiled, his sharp canines showing dangerously in the dim fire light, "I know it sounds stupid, but she's been here. Don't you see how everything is wiped clean? Nothing of use left? She's resourceful."

"Or it's a busy area and other survivors have stripped this bitch clean." Shion scoffed, "Are you really staking our survival on the idea of finding a woman when she's probably dead?"

Kakucho should've broken up the fight, he should've helped Izana and kept him from injuring Shion. Should've, could've, would've. "Izana," He started, "maybe we should focus on ourselves for a while?"

That was almost two weeks ago. None of them had seen Izana since. Until there was a commotion too close to their current shelter and they all hurried to help Izana. Forty against one wasn't fair and they weren't gong to let their friend get killed. Izana was holding his own well enough, but not good enough to beat off the whole town that was surrounding him. And Kakucho was great at using his gun as a club.

"Easy, Kaku!" That voice, could it be. It was! She was blocking his hit, glaring at him as if he had started this fight, "Help me calm Iza down!"

"Just go to him and he'll be fine!" Kakucho yelled, pointing to where Izana was laughing like a mad man and gaining the attention of walkers, "Do it fast or we're all puppy chow!"

How could he have lost her? How had she managed to get so far away from him that he couldn't even whistle and her whistle back? It was getting to Manjiro that he didn't have her at his side while he walked. He stayed holed up in his brothers old shop, waiting for her to come back. That was the deal if they ever got separated, they would meet back at S.S. Motors. It wasn't hard, not by a long shot, but it had been forever and she still wasn't back.

He'd never thought he could miss the nagging and the way she clung to him, but he did. Manjiro would give anything for her to be running up to him after a decent race, her hug suffocating him in his racing jumper even if he was far too sweaty underneath. God, he'd let her smother him to death if only she was right there with him.

"Don't you dare!" Manjiro remembered yelling at her as she went to open a door, "There's a bell on the door, you'll wake anything up that's in there!"

He'd take all that aggravation and fear if only it meant she was with him. Manjiro missed her so damn much. Every little sound was her coming back to him, so he stopped responding to them. He didn't move when his mind created the sound of the door opening, but he jerked around when a body pressed up against his.

"S'just me, Manji." Her voice was tired, hoarse, "Rest, yeah? We'll eat in the morning."

[bryhoney]

Recognisance Pt.3

Keegan POV!

(yay!)

I may come back and edit this if I proofread it again...

previous

Keegan knew it was a set-up. 

He knew that Rorke had purposefully leaked the intel of his next location to bait them. Among the information recovered was your old alias, and that’s all it took to lure the Ghosts. 

He hated that they were playing right into Rorke’s hand. He rolled his shoulders, trying in vain to ease the tension between his muscles. He’d been lying on rocky terrain for hours, anticipating Rorke’s arrival. 

Merrick had picked a mountainous region a few miles from the target coordinates to conduct the re-con mission. It was further than Keegan would’ve liked but he knew to trust Tom on this. Keegan was barely in his right mind. 

He knows that he should’ve sent Kick in his place but, much like the Walker brothers, he’d insisted he was sent out. It was meant to be a standard surveillance mission; observe and report back. Engage only if necessary. 

Yet, the three men were completely wired, hardly speaking to one another. Logan sat to his immediate right, lying in the same position as Keegan, staring down the scope of his rifle. Hesh sat beside his brother, he had been meticulously recording parts of the compound a few hours ago. Now, he watched the scanner in front of him impatiently whilst quietly petting Riley who lay beside him. 

Keegan couldn’t be sure which of the brothers bore the brunt of the guilt over your capture; Logan who knew that Rorke was after him, that if you hadn’t intervened you wouldn’t have been captured. Or Hesh, the eldest sibling by mere months, who believed he’d failed at keeping you safe. Who had watched Rorke toy with his brother before taking you, he’d been unable to stop him. 

Keegan had read several reports of that day, but only the reports filed by the Walkers detailed what had happened to you. 

A mechanic had written about how you’d commandeered one of the available helicopters when you realised there wasn’t any exfil for your brothers. 

A pilot had described watching your aircraft being tailed, how you’d screamed down the comms when Hesh had called for ‘Checkmate’. He watched you go down as close as you could to the tracks, a lucky shot from the Federation had caught your rear propeller.

Hesh had described how Rorke had been dragging Logan away when he first saw you, bruised and bloodied from the crash landing, carrying only a knife. He watched you stalk up the beach, barefoot towards Rorke. You’d launched yourself at Rorke, plunging the knife into his shoulder, mere inches from his jugular. He’d moved at the last possible moment. 

Your brother’s report detailed your bravery, and how you managed to initially subdue Rorke. Keegan could feel Hesh’s pride as he described his sister, a civilian, going against one of the most experienced soldiers in the country, the former leader of the Ghosts. 

While you’d been raised by soldiers, and been taught combat manoeuvres, you never trained as a soldier. 

He’d overpowered you in the end, and Hesh had to watch as Rorke slammed your head against the rocks you had fought so valiantly on. 

Rorke had taunted the brothers, laughing through pained breaths at how much easier it would be to break Elias’ only daughter. He told them he was coming back for Logan. How it was his fault his sister was taking his place. 

He’d laughed as he carried you away. 

It had broken Keegan’s heart, there you were, his girl, fighting for your brothers. 

The reports unnerved him, Rorke was a man who’d taken a .44 to the chest and still managed to walk away. You didn’t stand a chance against him. 

Keegan had berated himself for months after you were declared a P.O.W. He hadn’t been there to protect you, he’d done nothing to stop Rorke. He didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, to tell you-.

Movement to his right caught his eye, interrupting his thoughts. It was Logan, who’d gently reached into his breast pocket to retrieve the picture he carried with him everywhere.

It was of the Walker children, you were between Hesh and Logan who were wearing their tactical gear. You had an arm over each of their shoulders as they raised you into the air, so the three of you were the same height. Hesh was doing his best to lift Riley into frame with his free arm. You were laughing, the sun shining brightly behind you.

Elias had made his children recreate the photo every year after your adoption at age four, the boys had quickly outgrown you. 

You’d been missing for the last two years and Elias was no longer there to take the picture. 

Keegan swallowed the lump in his throat. 

He forced himself to look away, to shake off the heavy weight that settled over him whenever he thought of you. 

His relationship with you had begun to change into something more in the months leading up to your capture. He remembers the dressing-downs he’d received from each of the respective Walkers when they found out. 

He also remembers how you’d confronted them after, giving it back to them as good as they gave. 

It had been only weeks before his death when Elias had summoned Keegan to his Office. Yet, the infamous Scarecrow had sat opposite him and smiled, placing a hand on the Sergeant's shoulder before saying, “You treat my girl right”. It was an order and a thinly veiled threat all rolled into one.

Keegan had failed him, had failed you. 

His hand seized; he wanted to hurt someone. He wanted someone to hurt just as badly as he did. 

Hesh’s voice broke the silence, “Picking up a helo, two minutes out,” his voice was calm, steady. 

Silently, the three men looked onward, fixating on the landing pad to the south of their position.

Keegan swore he heard Logan release a shaky breath, he would’ve reached out to check on him if he hadn’t been so focused. 

There.

A helicopter burst over the top of the mountain range to their left, moving quickly towards the helipad. This was it. Hesh fumbled momentarily, before setting up the feed again and recording the scene in front of him. Riley stood up, alert, as though he understood what was happening and what was at stake. So far, he’d found no trace of Federation soldiers being out in this area and would let them know if he sensed anyone approaching on foot. 

It left the men to focus on the mission. 

Keegan mentally talked himself through his breathing as he watched the helo come in for landing. His composure was outwardly calm, displaying no visible weakness.

His heartbeat was traitorous, amping up as he watched heavily armed men and women exit the aircraft. 

His eyes narrowed as he recognised Rorke’s figure stepping onto the tarmac, Keegan watched as Gabriel turned raising his arms before-

“No-” Hesh breathed. 

There you were. 

Alive

And right there. 

Rorke was holding you, guiding you away from the helo as it began gearing up to take off. He led you towards a group of individuals that had assembled just minutes before your arrival. 

Keegan couldn’t make out your features, your emotions. He couldn't-

Hesh continued, “I’ll fucking kill him-”. 

Riley growled next to the boys, mimicking his owners. 

Keegan knew he should’ve told him to shut the fuck up but he too was blinded by rage. 

He was seething, you were right there and Rorke was holding you as though-

What’s he done to you, Baby?

Logan’s voice was quieter, more frantic, “Why-? What’s he doing? Has he?” his voice laced with anguish and Keegan forced himself to regain control, he wasn’t losing another Walker today. 

“Quiet, both of you. Keep the feed steady, we’re getting her back”. He was almost surprised by how calm he sounded, how unphased he appeared. 

“That’s my fucking sister-” Logan choked on his own words, his anger silencing him. The outburst from the quietest, most reserved Walker revealed his fraying hold on his composure.

They were going to get you all killed. 

“This is what he wants, do not give it to him. That's an order, Logan” Keegan paused for a moment before adding, “He’s taken Elias from us, I’m not letting him take her too”. 

He was a Ghost, he could do this. 

He’d failed to get Ajax back-

No. 

Hesh’s voice was both frantic and yet soft, “Yeah- Yeah, we will. We’ll get her back, Logan. I promise”. 

They watched as Rorke led you away from the group and towards the edge of the rooftop. It was almost a sheer drop onto the rocks, the base had been carved out of the side of a mountain. You wouldn't survive the fall. 

Logan shifted his stance immediately, his hand moving to the trigger of his weapon. He was no longer just watching the base, he was now actively locked onto a target with a loaded weapon.

“Do not engage, Kid” Keegan grunted, “He’s baiting us, do not engage!” Yet, his finger itched to pull back on the trigger. Hypocrite. 

Keegan prayed he made the right call as he watched Rorke stand behind you, leaning you over the edge. His jaw aches from clenching his teeth, he's doing nothing to stop Rorke.

Was he going to drop you?

“Keegan?” Hesh’s voice rose in panic, seeking an answer that Keegan didn’t have. 

He watched as you moved your hands to wrap around Rorke’s forearms as he leaned you even further over the precipice. You lifted your head skyward to accommodate the precarious angle you were balancing at. 

He was going to watch you die. 

No.

Please, No. Not you. 

He’d only just found you again. 

Your neck was exposed and he watched as Rorke moved to dip his face towards the expanse of your neck. It looked-

Keegan’s blood boiled and he immediately lost his cool, “that motherfucking-” he spat through gritted teeth. He hadn't even realised he'd readjusted his rifle, aiming directly for the man's skull. His breathing was heavy as he fought for control over himself. 

He knew we’d be watching.

Just as quickly as it had started, it was over. 

Rorke brought an arm around your shoulder before turning you forcefully away from the edge. Keegan watched as the pair of you moved towards the compound entrance before vanishing behind reinforced doors. 

He vaguely hears Logan throwing something behind him, yelling incoherently. 

I’m gonna get you out of there, Kid. I promise.

[kitkatscabinet]

Day drinking and its consequences

Prompt: You're drunk and they're carrying you to your room, when you unexpectedly say how much you love them, causing them to drop you on the floor

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: drunk cringey behaviour based on my own experiences. Written at 2am and unedited

Alcohol was a rare commodity these days, or rather, being able to safely drink it was. Out on the road, and even in the prison you had never felt safe enough to indulge in the few instances any such provisions had been found. Not at the welcoming parties in Alexandria or in the relative safety of your own assigned home. You were still an outsider, the wary and occasionally reverent looks thrown at your group not escaping anyone.

It takes a few weeks and having to deal with the walker bait Alexandriands on a run that almost ends in yours and Glenn’s premature death that you cave. The two of you hoarding the small stash of cheap shitty wine you’d found to yourselves. Wine drinker you were not, but desperate times and all that. Glenn and you had somehow ended up holed in Rick’s house, having meant to share your haul, only to both end up three sheets to the wind and giggling like idiots.

Wine tended to make you particularly amorous, which is how Carol finds you and Glenn locked in a human pretzel drunkenly slurring to each other how much you love the other. In between Glenn’s exclamations of how much he loves his wife, the most perfect woman in the world.

"She is isn't she? Super badass, pretty too." you drunkenly slurred whilst nodding your head before letting out a hum "Not as pretty as Daryl though." Even just saying his name puts a dopey smile on your face. However, Glenn didn't seem enthusiastic about your statement, jolting up in indignation and accidentally sending you sprawling off the couch.

""What? Maggie's ten timessss... No, a hundred times prettier than Daryl!" he rebutted.

"Nu-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nu-" you are interrupted from what was likely about to be a neverending back and forth, by Carol sitting you up from where you had still been laid on the floor.

"Drink" she commanded, pushing a glass of water into your hands, her tone leaving no room for argument. You did so, but with an exaggerated pout to let her know you weren't happy about it. The sound of the front door opening was your opportunity to dash away from Carol's tyranny as she focused on Glenn. Stumbling your way to welcome the newcomer you let out an excited gasp, throwing your arms out for a hug,

"Daryl! I missed you so much!" The poor man was too stunned to escape from your deceptively strong grip and was instead forced to bear the brunt of your weight as your legs suddenly decided to stop cooperating. The sound of a laugh from behind catches your attention, whipping your head around so quick you would have hit the floor if not for the strong arms that wrapped themselves around you.

"Carol look, it's Daryl!" you beamed, immensely excited at the arrival of your favourite person. You aren't sure why the woman starts to laugh at you, a look up at Daryl gives you no answer either. Not that you minded, as you were too busy staring at his pretty face.

"I can see that" Carol answered you in a voice that reminded you of how she spoke to the children, "why don't you get Daryl to take you home while I look after Glenn?"

"Ok!" you beamed with a sudden renewal of energy, scrambling to throw the door open and then drag the man out with you before he can protest. You last approximately ten steps before the burst of energy at seeing Daryl wears off and the sleepiness kicks in. "Daryl I'm tiiiired, carry meeee" you whined pathetically, using the last of your coordination to fling yourself towards his incredibly tense person. He catches you with an incredibly put-upon sigh but doesn't let you drop, shifting you and picking you up in a princess carry that has you letting out a small shriek of delight.

You live across the street from Rick, not even thirty metres, but for a drunk and lethargic you, it feels like an eternity. Daryl is warm, and his steps lull you further into dreamland as your face burrows into the crook of his neck. You quickly pull back when you feel his tense though, a brief moment of alertness entering your body as you apologise.

"What are ya sorry for woman?" It takes you a few seconds to respond, drunken brain trying to make sense of his words.

"know ya don't like to be touched. Sorry I'ma touchy." you murmur. He stumbles slightly in response, though you aren't sure if it's because of your words or from trying to open the door with your dead weight clinging to him.

"S'alright" he replies, swallowing harshly when you smile delightedly back up at him and move your head to rest against his neck once more.

Your eyes are closed as he walks steadily up the stairs, the creaking of the hinges you know to be from your door the only indication of where you are. An indication that Daryl is about to let you go and leave. Through the haze in your mind you vaguely register that the words you want to say shouldn't be said, that doesn't stop drunk brain though, and your lips are already moving.

"Hey Daryl. Love you" your eyes are closed during the confession so you don't notice his deer-in-headlights expression. What you do notice, however, is the sudden sensation of you falling. Your own eyes widened then as a scream that turns into a pained groan left your lungs. "Owwwww" you whine, looking up at the stock-still man with an accusatory pout, "what that fuck Daryl-uh."

"you love me?" his voice cracks slightly.

"Duh," you roll your eyes, before pushing yourself onto your knees and crawling into bed. Your shins are dangling of the edge, your left arm is trapped under your torso and your face is buried worryingly in the duvet but still, you swear it's the comfiest you've ever been. You would have happily slept like that if it weren't for Daryl repositioning you. He even goes so far as to tuck you in as you hand limply like a sack of bricks. Neither of you says anything, you are too tired, and his entire world has just been uprooted by your casual confession. You barely manage to mumble out a good night before you are pulled into one of the deepest slumbers of your life.

Daryl stands vigil for a few minutes, eyes tracing over the visible features of your face as his heart races and his face burns. You look innocent like this he thinks, peaceful. Unburdened by the past year of hardships and struggles to survive to see the next day.

He knows he would do anything for you, whether you loved him or not, because somewhere along the way he's fallen in love too. Though a large part of him wants you to forget this interaction, you're too good for him, deserve better. He can't help the small sliver of hope that burns in his chest, hope that you'll remember, and then he can say it too.

Taglist (join here): @walkingus

[elizabethemerald]

Flying Grason and Circus Gothica DPxDC

AO3

Prompt by @hypewinter ;

Richard Grayson crouched next to one of Gotham’s signature gargoyles, dressed in his Nightwing uniform. He stared down at what had, until just the last week, been an empty lot. Now the lot was filled with the lights and color of a traveling circus. Circus Gothica had come to visit Gotham and Dick’s family wanted to give him a pick-me-up. They had attended the circus, and while Dick had been filled with nostalgia at the displays, he couldn't help a feeling of dread. The tightrope walker… she didn’t seem… The sound of a pair of heavy boots landing on the roof behind him shook him out of his thoughts. 

“What are we doing here, Dickard?” Jason, wearing his full Redhood get up, including his helmet, asked from behind him. Dick turned to face his frequently estranged brother for a moment before returning his attention to the circus below them, now long closed for the night. 

“We are going to investigate this circus for anything suspicious.” Dick said, keeping his focus on the circus. He heard the rattling noise that he knew came from Jason sighing into his voice modulator. 

“I meant, what am I doing here? If you needed to investigate this place why didn’t you call the Brat or the Replacement. Either of the girls would have worked as well.” 

“I needed you here.” Dick said. Jason walked up next to him on the other side of the gargoyle. “I knew if I said I have a bad feeling about the circus without proof everyone else, except for maybe Cass would have dismissed me. ‘Oh it’s just the trauma speaking.’ But I know what I saw. The tightrope walker, she wasn’t willing. I think she was being forced to perform, her motions were too mechanical, as if she wasn’t all there.” 

“And you needed me over Cass because if they are abusing their performers you’re going to beat them to within an inch of their lives and Cass would have stopped you.” Jason said. “Well if you want to save that girl, I’m here for-”

Jason whirled mid-sentence, drawing both guns from his sides and aiming them at something behind them. Dick turned with him, pulling his escrima as he turned but he couldn’t see whatever it was that Jason had reacted to. Jason stayed focused on a single point in space at the far end of the roof. 

“Show yourself!” He barked. 

After a few seconds, during which Jason didn’t waver in his focus, someone faded into view. The kid looked like he was eighteen, maybe nineteen, just a year younger than Jason. He had wavy black hair, blue eyes and was wearing a NASA shirt. Total adoption bait, Dick thought to himself. The guy was holding his hands up in surrender and had a desperate look in his eye. 

“You two are heroes, right?” He asked, his hands still raised. 

Jason and Dick glanced at each other. 

“Yeah, we’re heroes. I’m Nightwing, this is Redhood. Why were you spying on us?” 

“I heard you talking about the tightrope walker, you’re right she is unwilling. Please, I need you to help me, the ringleader, Freakshow, is using mind control on her.” The boy fell to his knees as he begged. “Please, Ancients, please help me. They’re killing her. Please, they're killing her.” 

There was an undeniable desperation in his voice. Dick hesitated for a moment, there was a chance, however slim, that this person was merely a fantastic actor, especially now that the topic of mind-control had been brought up. He was trying to formulate some way to confirm what this person had said other than his own gut feeling when Jason stepped forward, holstering his guns as he did. 

“He’s telling the truth.” Jason said. 

Well Dick had asked him to come because they were team gut instinct, so might as well trust Jason on this one. He returned his escrima to his back. The boy practically collapsed in relief onto the rooftop, falling to his hands and knees for a moment before he started to rise. Jason helped pull him to his feet. 

“Alright, talk. What do you know?” Jason said. 

“Freakshow is the alias used by the Ring-leader. He uses a staff to control… people. The staff should have been destroyed.” He practically growled when he said that. Actually, Dick was certain he really did growl, he arched an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. “If the staff is taken from him then he loses control over the… people.” 

Dick could hear that the boy was hiding something. Considering the inhuman growl and the slight flash of his eyes, along with the invisibility, he was going to guess that by people, he meant metas. The last thing Gotham needed was mind control focused meta trafficking ring in the city. 

“You said they were killing her? How? Why?” 

He looked away from them, his eyes flicking side to side as he tried to order his thoughts. He was either coming up with a lie or trying to decide how much information to share with them. 

“Ellie… she’s… sick. I have medicine for her. If I can get it to her in time I can save her, but if I get close while Freakshow still has the staff he’ll take control of me. I have some training and some resistance, but it might not be enough. The staff he’s using is ancient, he’s controlled me before but I was able to fight it off. I’m not certain I would be able to do so again, and it’s too much of a risk to try.” 

It seemed the boy had decided on a half truth. The girl, Ellie, was certainly unwell, and her life was in more danger with every second that ticked passed, but what she was sick with and what the medicine for her were were unclear. Jason seemed to pick up on that as well. 

“We’ll get her out of there. And all the rest of them. But when we’re done we’re going to have a long talk.” Jason growled. 

The boy looked up at them, desperation once again shining naked on his face. 

“If you save her I will tell you anything I am able to. I promise. Please just save her and bring her to me.” 

“We will. We’re heroes. It’s what we do.” Dick said, trying to project all the confidence he could to assure the boy. Speaking of which… “By the way, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘kid’ in my head.” 

“I’m Danny. And I’m not a kid.” Danny had grimaced when Dick had mentioned being a hero, perhaps he had a bad history with heroes? Now he kind of wished he had brought Cass along with him on this venture, she would have been much better at reading this kid. And he was definitely a kid, a teenaged father to an even younger, kidnapped daughter. 

“Ok, Danny. Is there anything else you can tell us about this Freakshow?” 

Danny pulled a backpack from…somewhere, then rustled around on the inside for a few seconds. He slowly stuck his arm further and further inside until his shoulder was ready to disappear before he pulled back. Certainly the bag wasn’t large enough by itself for him to do that. Dick shot a glance at Jason and he could practically feel the matching raised eyebrow even through Jason’s helmet. Danny finally leaned back and tossed two bracelets to the two heroes. 

“I’ve had these built for years just in case, and I’ve been carrying them with me since Ellie was taken. These will keep you safe from Freakshow’s mind control.” 

The bracelets weren’t exactly high fashion, but they didn’t look bad. If Dick was going to place a guess, he would say that Danny had modified and improved upon another’s design. That would be something they would have to ask once this was over. Jason grunted in discomfort when he snapped his on. 

“If these work so well, how don’t wear one to better resist Freakshow?” Jason had a hint of strain in his voice that Dick couldn’t quite figure out. 

Danny reached over as if to grab Dick’s wrist except a spark of toxic green electricity arced off the bracelet to shock Danny’s hand. He gave the bracelet a grim look. Then looked up at them apologetically. 

“If only it were that simple. I haven’t been able to find any technological protection from Freakshow’s mind-control that doesn’t also harm me.” Then he turned to Jason, a look of concern on his face. “Speaking of which, it doesn’t hurt you too badly does it?” 

Dick was confused by that statement. He hadn’t noticed any pain or discomfort coming from the bracelet he now wore on his wrist. Jason however, waggled his hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. 

“It’s not the worst pain I’ve ever experienced.” He said shortly. 

“No, I imagine it wouldn’t be.” Danny said as if sharing an inside joke with Jason and considering his snort he apparently got it. Dick hated not being on a joke, but he figured this one he was probably happy not to have personal experience with. Danny’s face settled into a more determined look. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything else to help you, please, just get Ellie out and safe as quickly as possible. Please, I can’t lose her too.” 

They nodded and turned together and jumped from the roof. Dick wanted to think more about Danny and his various strangeness, but he needed to focus on the task at hand. They had a little girl to save. 

.

In the end, stopping Freakshow wasn’t easy, but it also wasn’t nearly as difficult as some of their usual rogues. On the one hand, the performers that Freakshow controlled had powers, something Danny completely failed to mention. They could fly, turn invisible, phase into the ground, even fire off some kind of green energy bolts that reminded Dick far too much of Starfire’s starbolts. On the other hand, none of these powers seemed to be very effective against the two heroes. 

The starbolts didn’t do anything more than tickle Dick, and while they seemed to hurt Jason more, the two of them were well used to avoiding incoming fire from their enemies. They were usually dodging bullets, which moved faster, hurt more and were more lethal than the starbolts, so the performers were mostly useless at range. 

Up close whatever shield Danny had given them kept the performers from touching them, each of them falling back with arcs of electricity jumping between their fingers. It helped that under Freakshow’s control the performers just kept trying to jump or fly into them with a full bodied tackle. Any goon in the goonion knew better than to try to just tackle one of the bat clan. Dick guessed it had something to do with the powers the performers demonstrated, but he set it aside as something to ask Danny about once they were out of there. 

Just when the two Bats were within sight of Freakshow the lights of the big top came on, including a spotlight focused on the high wire. Freakshow stepped back and gestured with the staff in his hands towards where the lone acrobat, the little girl, Danny’s Ellie, stood balanced on the wire. 

“Now, now, little bats! If you take even one step closer a little ghost child will fall to her second death. I’d hate for her to splatter all over the ground of the Big Top!” Freakshow said, with a grin as demented as one of the Joker’s. 

Ellie moved slowly across the tightrope. Dick could immediately pick up on that same mechanical, emotionless movement that had first drawn his attention. He could see that she was being controlled now that he had the confirmation. He could also see just how tired she was, she sagged against the control of her body, any part of her that wasn’t actively being controlled by Freakshow drooped as if she wanted to pass out from exhaustion. Dick just hoped that whatever medicine Danny had for his daughter worked. 

“I’ve got another idea. Nightwing?” Jason growled the words, his modulator making him sound even more inhuman. Dick glanced at his brother and gave him the subtlest of nods. They moved immediately, perfectly in sync. Jason pulled his guns and fired off a few rounds, rubber bullets and all. Dick fired his grapple and rose as the control staff was shot out of Freakshow’s hand. 

Ellie came back to herself and wobbled for a second before she slipped off the wire, gravity immediately taking hold of her. For a second, Dick flashed back to another family falling from the peak of the big top. He remembered the feeling of horror that filled him as his parents fell to their death. He couldn’t allow another family to go through that. Not this time. Ellie falls and Dick was there to meet her. 

The poor girl shivered and shook in his arms as he carefully lowered the two of them to the ground. Large green tears fell from her eyes and her breath rattled in and out of her chest. She grabbed onto his uniform with desperate fingers and seemed to pass out immediately in his arms. Dick dearly wanted to beat Freakshow into submission for what he had done to her, but she very clearly needed her medicine more. Jason settled for breaking Freakshow’s arm before knocking him out and cuffing him. Surprisingly the rest of Freakshow’s victims had vanished into thin air once the staff left his hands. 

Dick carried Ellie back to the rooftop where they had left Danny. The whole time she kept her eyes closed and shook in his arms. Jason carried the staff Freakshow had used, though he held it like it was something foul and offended him personally. Danny had been watching them come and as soon as they were on the roof as well had his arms out for his daughter. Dick handed her off willingly, and Danny almost immediately collapsed to his knees in relief. 

“Daddy?” Elllie croaked the word, barely able to open her eyes. 

“I’m here, Ellie. I’m here. I’ve got the ecto-dejecto.” 

“I tried to fight him.” Her voice was soft and hoarse and hurt Dick just to hear. 

“You did amazing, sweety. You were absolutely amazing.” 

Danny pulled a syringe out from what looked like his own arm. A syringe filled a green gel that glowed softly. Jason stared at the needle as Danny readied it for Ellie. She tried to shove his hand away, but he moved around her. 

“I know you hate it, I know. It’s awful. But you have to take it. Please Ellie, I’ve got you, you’re safe.” 

Dick flinched back in horror as Ellie’s hand melted into a similar green goo. The glowing goo fell from her body to the rooftop but she didn’t seem to react, only mewling softly at Danny as he pushed the needle into her chest, close to where her heart would be. Danny pushed down on the plunger and Ellie threw her head back and screamed. Dick had to cover his ears while even Jason with his helmet stumbled back before the force of her scream. 

Their horror only increased when her entire body fell apart, glowing chunks splashing onto the roof leaving a pale green pearl in Danny’s hands. The puddles of green flowed up into the pearl until there wasn’t a trace of Ellie left other than the pearl. Danny rocked back and forth as he held the pearl, and whispered quietly to it. 

“Please, Ellie. Please. Come back. I was fast enough, please Ellie, just this once, please let me have been fast enough. Please, Ancients, don’t let me lose anyone else. Please, Ellie. Please.”

Danny’s voice was broken with grief and desperation as he begged the little sphere. Dick stepped forward to comfort the grieving father, his own regret heavy in his heart, but Jason’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. The two of them could only watch as Danny begged and begged, still rocking. Only the slow tightening of Jason’s hand on Dick’s shoulder showed his grief and fear rising as well. The three men stared at the little orb in Danny’s hand, two of them hardly daring to breathe as any last remnant of hope faded. 

Then, just when Dick was certain he had been too late, a flash of light came from the little sphere. He blinked the light from his eyes and when he could see again he saw Danny clutching a much more lively Ellie to his chest, sobbing in naked relief. 

“Oh Daddy! I knew you would come and that stupid jerk would pay.” Ellie cheered, hugging him back just as strong. 

“That’s right baby, I’m always going to come for you. I’ll always protect you.” He stood, lifting his daughter easily and turned to show her the two bats. “And these two heroes were the ones who stopped Freakshow and brought you back to me.” 

Ellie smiled at them and they couldn’t help but notice that her smile was just a little too wide, and showed just a few too many teeth. Then she seemed to recognize them and they saw actual literal stars in her eyes. 

“Oh my gosh! You’re Redhood! You’re Aunt Jazz’s favorite hero!” Jason preened for a moment before Ellie continued. “She says there’s something deeply wrong with your entire family and she wants to study you like a bug. She says all of you need ‘like decades of therapy.’”

Jason and Dick didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended by the kid’s words. And they had both rescued children often enough to know that they were often brilliant mimics and considering the intonation she had used, had probably heard that phrase way too often.

“Now Ellie, be nice. They did rescue after all. Give them a proper thank…” Danny’s voice petered out as he saw the staff that Jason still held in his hands. Ellie happily thanked the two heroes as he glared at the staff, analyzing and examining it, his face twisting with more and more rage. 

The staff itself seemed to have been broken before and then sloppily repaired with glowing green and silver technology. It was at this modified portion of the staff that Danny focused his ire. Ellie seemed to notice her father’s fury as her babbling words to the heroes ceased and she turned in his arms to lightly pat her hands on his face. He blinked and looked at her before letting his face relax. 

“Daddy, are you ok?” 

“Yeah, Daddy’s ok sweetie. This is just something bigger I’m going to have to deal with.” 

“Ok.” She hesitated for a moment. “Just promise to be safe, I won’t be able to protect you until I’m bigger.” 

“I promise, munchkin.” 

Jason quietly cleared his throat. They both hated to disrupt the tender moment, but if this was a larger threat they needed the facts as soon as possible. 

“I know, I know. I promised you details.” Danny said as he adjusted how he was carrying Ellie. “This isn’t exactly a topic for the rooftops. Do you have someplace private we can talk? Preferably somewhere I can put the kiddo down for bed after the hard week she’s had?” 

Dick and Jason glanced at each other. There were a variety of safe houses and interrogation rooms the Family had available in the area, or the Batcave, but none were exactly the best for putting a potential ally at ease where they could also have a child sleep over. Hell, Dick’s apartment was barely safe for him to sleep, the pile of dishes in his sink practically counted as a biohazard. Well… there was one place… but that meant revealing…

“B’s out of town for the week for that JL thing isn’t he?” Jason asked, clearly having read Dick’s mind. “He’s not here to disapprove.” 

“Seems like the perfect place for a conversation.” Dick agreed and turned back to see Danny’s slightly worried glance between the two of them. “How about it Danny? Would you like to ride with the kiddo on one of our motorcycles?” 

“Oh, don’t be silly!” Ellie said with a smile. “Aunt Jazz is the one who likes motorcycles. Daddy and I will fly!” 

.

Danny did in fact fly, invisibly and intangibly, with Ellie still in his arms. He followed along in the air over the two bikes as they weaved dangerously in and out of traffic. The two were obviously brothers in so many ways, but their playful daring of each other to push a little faster, to get a little closer to the cars made it even more obvious. Danny couldn’t help the small smile that crept up his face, but speaking of siblings he had to make a call of his own. Jazz answered on the first ring. 

“Danny? Did you find her?” Jazz asked, she had been driving herself crazy for the past week trying to find where Ellie had been taken to. 

“Yeah, I’ve got her safe and sound-”

“Hi Aunt Jazz!” Ellie interrupted to yell into the earpiece Danny was using. He could practically feel Jazz’s wince at the volume, but they were both used to Ellie’s exuberance. 

“Hi Ellie! I’m so glad to hear you’re safe!” Jazz shouted back, making Danny wince this time, but Ellie nodded even though she wasn’t wearing the earpiece and settled back against Danny’s chest. “Talk to me Danny. What happened?” 

“Freakshow was controlling her. And a bunch of other ghosts, but I was able to scoop up the rest while the heroes had their backs turned. I’ll be dropping them off in the zone as soon as I can.” 

“Heroes? What heroes?” 

“I had a little help from Gotham’s beloved Knights. Or at least two of them. They were the ones to take out Freakshow since I couldn’t risk getting closer to him while he held his staff.” 

“I thought you broke that staff the last time you faced him.” 

“I did. It was fixed.” Danny hesitated for a second before dropping the bomb on her. “It was fixed with Fentontech.” 

He could hear the gasp from Jazz at the same time Ellie shivered in fear. Jazz took a steadying breath and Danny could practically see her going through her breathing exercises to control her own panic. 

“I guess that problem will need to be dealt with sooner rather than later.” 

“Mm. I’m hoping that with the help of the local heroes I won’t have to take care of everything myself, but…”

“Some things are personal.” Jazz finished for him. “I understand Danny.” She took another breath before changing topics, now sounding calm and professional. “Could you stay on the line? Tucker is tracking your location, and I would like to confirm for myself that the two of you are ok.” 

“Of course Jazz. Do you want to talk to Ellie?” Danny was already removing the piece from his ear before Jazz could even confirm. Of course Jazz wanted to talk to Ellie. Jazz loved her niece more than oxygen. He slipped the piece into Ellie’s ear so they could talk. 

“Hi Aunt Jazz! This is Ellie, I’ve missed you so much!” Ellie started talking excitedly greeting Jazz again as if Danny would just hand his earpiece to anyone. 

Danny mentally checked out from their conversation as he stayed flying over the two Bats. His parents had already shared their technology with the GIW making it more dangerous to be a ghost or liminal. Even Jazz had been attacked once by GIW agents, though she had left all the agents with concussions and multiple broken bones once she was done with them. 

If they were sharing their technology with other criminals like Freakshow, it was going to be even more dangerous. How long would it take until some of the big rogues get their hands on anti ghost tech? What could someone like the Joker or Luthor do if even the dead aren’t safe from their machinations? 

.

Jason and Dick lead the two ghosts to a large manor on the outskirts of Gotham. Danny eventually recognizes it as Wayne manor. He would have to tell Sam she won their bet on Batman’s secret identity, not that they would ever tell anyone. He and Ellie were welcomed into the house by Alfred, the manor’s butler. The two of them settled in the dining room where Ellie was plied with dinner and dessert after her stressful time with Freakshow. Danny makes a mental note for his daughter to spend time with Aunt Jazz so she can talk things through free of judgment. 

The two bat boys joined them shortly out of costume and the rest of the family trickled in throughout the day as their patrols ended. Damian, who was probably the stabby Robin, glared at them as if they were a threat to his family. Danny couldn’t help the thought that he puffed up like an angry cat. Cassandra and Stephanie, Black Bat and Spoiler respectively, worked together to pull Ellie from Danny’s lap to keep her entertained away from the serious discussion that was happening at the table. Timothy, or Red Robin (Yumm!) was on the receiving end of several stern looks from Alfred for having a computer at the dining table but he was taking rapid notes on everything Danny said. 

Danny told them as much as he felt comfortable with. About ghosts, and over shadowing, and Infinite Realms. He tried to keep the conversation light and focused just on the simple details until Alfred escorted in Jazz at close to three in the morning. 

“Aunt Jazz!” Ellie ran to her and jumped into her arms, Jazz swinging her up into the air easily. As if Ellie had been waiting to be reunited with her family she almost immediately fell asleep in Jazz’s arms. Alfred escorted the two to the guest room he had prepared hours ago. 

Once Jazz had returned to the dining room it was time for the serious conversation. The GIW. The Anti-Ecto Act. The very real threat of extermination that every ectoplasm contaminated person now faced, which included more than half the bats currently at the table as well. Promises are made to get the League looking at the laws. Eventually the conversation turns to talking about Danny and Ellie. 

“Technically she’s my clone.” Danny confessed. “My fruitloop god-father wanted to make me his perfect son, so he stole my DNA and cloned me. She was unstable for a long time and had to keep coming back for injections. We finally figured out what was going on two years ago.”

Danny rubbed a hand up and down his face as he gathered himself. He always hated that it had taken him so long to understand what she needed. 

“Because he’s terrible at biology, he forced her human half to grow at an accelerated rate to match my age, but he couldn’t do the same with her ghost half. The two sides were at war, and it turns out she really was a baby ghost all along, but didn’t have an adult ghost around to be able to depend on. She changed her form to match her actual age, and I’ve been her ghost parent, so I’ve helped steady her core. Until Freakshow came along and stole her away while she still needed me.” 

He glared at the table top as the temperature around him plummeted. Freakshow could have killed his little girl. It would have been all too easy and if Dick and Jason hadn’t helped take away his staff, Danny might have been too late. If Freakshow’s actions had led to Ellie’s death there would have been no safe haven for him in this life or the next. Jazz grabbing his hand brought him back before he sent the dining room into the next ice age. 

The arrival of the daylight hero, Signal, aka Duke, reminded the lot they should have been asleep hours ago. Jazz and Danny retired to the same guest room Ellie was currently snoring away in. They settled down on either side of the bed from her, cuddling Danny’s daughter in the middle. 

“What are we going to do about the Fentons?” Jazz whispered from across Ellie’s still form. 

“If they’re helping villains, they’ve crossed a line. I’ll have to deal with them myself.” Danny hesitated for a bit. “I’ll have to wait until Ellie’s stable again, but then would you mind if she stayed with you? You’re family too, even if you don’t have a ghost form, so she should be stable with you too.” 

“Of course I will, Danny. You don’t even have to ask.” Jazz said, she hesitated as well. “Are you going to bring them in to serve jail time?” 

They had been his parents once. His mom and dad. Jazz still caught herself sometimes referring to them as their parents. But they had crossed too many lines. With Jazz’s childhood, after Danny’s accident, now with Ellie’s health. He took a shaky breath and shook his head. 

“Their crimes are against the dead. And the dead are going to come for their due.”

Jazz nodded, small tears shining in her eyes, before she closed them and let the tears fall. The trio fell asleep, a small, strange family, reunited again after so long. Tomorrow would be a new challenge, but eventually they would know peace. 

[gutsby]

Joel Miller

Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)

Joel has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

One shots for the Waiting Game ‘verse

Homemade: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Diehard: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Ruined!: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]

Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Confines: Joel locks you up in a subterranean bunker.

Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)

Something about the sun in Cabo San Lucas and your best friend’s father’s sweaty body makes you a horny mess. When you find an old shirt of his lying around, you can’t resist. When Mr. Miller finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.

Cry, Baby

Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Just Peachy [anal]

Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Bucky Barnes

Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Daryl Dixon

Dead Ringer

Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.

Easy Street

You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Nighthawk

You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Cherry Pie

You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Walker Bait

An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk

Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Honey Trap

You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Pregnant Pause

Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Mr. Dixon

Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Playing Dangerous

Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Best Served Cold

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.

Coming Soon:

Bite the Bullet

Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesn’t sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides it’s time to let the men know just how he feels—and who you belong to.

Atlantic City

A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon won’t be one to remember.

Requests are open!

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumpuary Day 13-14

Prompt: Bruises

Pairing: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Warnings: Injuries

A/N: Sorry for the early post and just the short drabble. Just trying to push through until I feel better.

“Okay, we can stop here.” You leaned slightly so Daryl could slide his arm from your shoulders and recline against a downed tree. He grunted at the movement but otherwise made no complaint. Placing his crossbow on the ground by his feet, you crouched beside him. “Let’s see the damage.”

His face was a mess of lacerations and swollen flesh, but his torso was worse. Littered with scattered burns and cuts and mottled with deep bruising along his right ribs. 

“Jesus, Daryl. What did they do to you?”

“Lil’ bit’a everythin’. Weren’ very creative though.” He chuckled but it broke off into a groan, his hand flying to his side to brace the obviously broken ribs. You clicked your tongue at him, digging through your bag for some disinfectant and butterfly sutures. “Didn’ tell ‘em nothin’ though.”

“I know you didn’t.” You smiled gently, dabbing at the worst of the cuts on his forehead. “It’d take a lot more than that to break the great Daryl Dixon.” He hissed at the sting and, before you could think better of it, you leaned in to blow gently over his skin. When you realized what you were doing, you sat back on your heels and opened a pack of sutures. Your face was beet red. 

When you went back to work, he was smirking at you, his lip splitting enough for fresh blood to well up from the wound. 

“Shut up.” You frowned at him, pulling together the skin to apply the suture, a little more roughly than intended. The archer pulled away from you with a deep scowl. “Sorry.” You batted your lashes at him. He mumbled something that you were pretty sure contained the word sadist but you’d let it slide. “Alright, that’s the best I can do for now. Need to get you back so Denise can take a look at those ribs. You won’t be going on any runs for a while.” You pulled his shirt up again, relieved for the millionth time that he was comfortable enough with you for his scars not to matter. Nothing below the deep purple skin appeared to be shifted. 

“Pft.” He huffed and groaned while you helped him to his feet. “Take more than this ta keep me down.” The color had drained from his face by the time you had him up and moving, albeit slowly. 

You shook your head with a warm smile. “I have no doubt.” 

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