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theteasetreads · 1 year

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AHHHH

Ok so first of all, incredible writing as usual. 🙄

Second of all, POOR DARYL OH MY GOD NOOOOOOOO

Third of all, oh my god she cares so much about him I can’t do this. She literally killed three people (well I guess she left one for dead but still) from her group to save Daryl’s life. 😀😀😀😀😀 tell me you’re in love without saying you’re in love.

And I simply NEED her to take off his shirt and patch him up thanks. Like it’s not a want it’s a requirement for my mental health.

All You Got | Part 5

Part 5: Liar

Series Summary: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.1k (this was supposed to be short...) Warnings: descriptions of violence, death, blood, injury, all that crazy stuff. more angst but it will get better 🙏 A/N: ok so. not an early update... if u wanna blame someone blame my uterus for giving me a hellish period this week. but also give her a hug because she hurts </3

The grass was damp from the night before’s rain. It left green stains on your knees, and smears of dirt along your palms.

Your lip quivered.

Just a minute ago, your grip had been firm. Decisive; live or die, and you’d decided.

That same grip melted away from the sear of hot metal against skin. Fingers softening, resolve crumbling away with every little shake. The gun fell to the ground with a quiet thump. Just like that woman had.

Moisture hung in the air, a tinge of iron drifting. A fog settled, blurring each and every one of your senses until you could barely hear your own quiet, shaky breaths. The only thing that seemed to break through that grey haze was her face, marked by the trail of blood dripping past a wide-eyed stare. The type of stare that was absent of any thought or recognition.

Dead.

You looked to the ground. Cold, soft dirt. Fingers dug in, trying to forget the weight of the gun you could still feel in your hand. The throbbing across your forearm had dulled. The pound of your heart against your ribcage was nothing more than an echo.

Something tickled your hand. A slow sensation to drag your attention back, beckoning you out of the fog and back into reality. Your eyes flickered to where the little ant crawled across your pinky finger.

Then he was there.

A warm pressure settled on your shoulders, gripping your left arm right above the spot a stream of blood started. It felt like a dream; him moving so fast, you slow and quiet. His mouth opened and closed only for the words to be lost between you. Eyes, the same colour as yours, flashed from you to the woman, shot dead, ahead. She still had that knife laying in her limp palm, decorated with a thin line of your blood.

“It's okay. I’m okay,” you said to your brother, who looked so young with those wide, scared eyes.

Your mouth parted, expression slack, and repeated, “It's okay.”

—

“Don’t move a fucking muscle.”

You were frozen, anyway.

The realization of a gun aimed at the back of your head made your stomach sink, weighing you down. It kept you steady, even if your hands were already slick with sweat.

“We can talk about this,” you swallowed. “If you need food or—“

“Shut up,” the woman growled. Her tone was exhausted, already fed up with you at the mere implication of a truce, and you worried if you kept talking, she might’ve just pulled the trigger to get you to stop. “Put your hands up— slow!��

The steadying weight inside of you seemed to falter then, waved by the increasingly worrisome demeanour of your attacker; your hands shook as you raised them, muscles twitching with adrenaline. Her breath got closer, fanning across the back of your neck as the barrel of the gun pressed into the top of your spine. From the corner of your eye, thin, blood-splattered fingers undid the buckle of your knife and pulled the blade out.

Two gunshots echoed in the distance.

Your heart dropped.

Daryl.

As if the gun at the back of your neck wasn’t enough to have you cursing whatever fate put you and her here today, you were silently screaming for Daryl’s wellbeing. No matter who fired that gun, if it was Daryl or one of her friends, it meant something bad.

She seemed to know that too.

“Did those assholes just—” she huffed in frustration before she seemed to remember your presence and bit her tongue.

It was odd. It didn’t feel like she was forgetful, per se, but perhaps that was a biased opinion, on account of her gun pressed into the nape of your neck and all; to be held up was one thing, to be held up by someone who didn't even have the brain to keep their focus on you, was another.

Unfortunately, the alternative wasn’t great, either. If she felt confident enough to let her attention slip off of you, it was safe to assume she was a brute force to be reckoned with. Two long years in this world taught you about people like that. People who fought their way to the top, who stole and lied and killed. Who looked down on the ones who just couldn’t, even if it was their best chance to survive.

You’d known a few of those people— hell, even the way she sighed was achingly familiar.

After regaining her composure, she whistled.

Glancing out the backdoor, you saw Daryl tumble out of the woods— literally. Two men, frames almost as big as his, followed behind. One landed a heavy kick to his stomach, rolling him across the damp grass. Even from across the backlot, you heard his groan of pain. Saw the red dripping down his left arm; fresh blood where you assumed a bullet must’ve hit nearby. The man who’d kicked was aiming Daryl’s own crossbow at him, the other holding up a shotgun.

The sight of it all made you take in a sharp breath. Your thoughts raced. A mix of dread, panic, and regret.

How the fuck did you end up in this?

You could feel that fog fill the air again, sinking into your lungs and choking every breath you sucked in. You remembered the pull of the trigger, the snap of the gun as it fired. The smell of ash and gunpowder.

You didn't know if you could do that again.

One of them yanked Daryl to a stand, dragging him into the gas station. When your eyes finally drifted off his beaten body and the weapons raised, your heart stopped.

Ross and Lee.

“Holy shit,” Lee muttered, his gun’s aim still steady on Daryl. Though the second your name left his lips, everyone’s attention snapped toward you.

A firm hand landed on your shoulder before the woman at your back spun you. You faced her wide-eyed look for a second before the barrel of her gun— Emily’s gun— drew your concern. It didn’t take long for her eyes to turn dark again, anger twisting her delicate features into something cruel and mean.

Emily had always had a fire inside of her, and her aggression had a long intimidation behind it. Back at the camp, her opinion was always made abundantly clear, either by malicious looks or a harsh tongue. It wasn’t uncommon to call in Martinez to calm her down, less common for it to work. If she hadn’t been such a good shot, you swore he would’ve given up on her months ago. She and Mitch were alike that way, dominating through fear and force.

It made sense that she got out.

Of course, Mitch’s story ended differently— at the prison, with your bullet in the back of his skull. After his force had finally lost him his own life.

She scoffed something under her breath, glaring at you beyond thin curtains of dark hair. You tried to follow the fast pace of her lips, remembering her impulsiveness and its cruel outcome combined with that anger in her eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here? Why are you with him?”

“I—“

“You buddies with this asshole?”

Amidst her rapid questioning, she never lowered the gun from your chest. Even so, your eyes flickered back to Daryl, now kneeling on the tiled floor and staring at you through his messy bangs.

He looked drained. Tired. There was already a bruise blooming across his jaw, a slow drip of blood from his parted mouth. You didn't know if it was from a cut on his lip or if he’d been shot somewhere else, too, and was coughing up his own blood. The mere thought of that made your lungs squeeze—

A rough grip twisted in your tank top yanked your attention back to her.

“Huh?”

“I— I was alone,” you stammered. “He knows how to fight the dead, how to hunt. I figured I’d do better with his help.”

It was hard to keep your eyes off that gun now pointing to your sternum, but you managed to center a shaky focus on her narrow, suspicious stare, instead.

“He didn’t know I was there— at— at the prison. He thought I was just some… some survivor.”

Electricity ran through every inch of you, waiting for the second you were forced to fight or flee. But as Emily’s stare continued to pick you apart, unsure how to feel about your admission, you willed yourself to hold still and wait.

Or for her to call bullshit on your lie and finally fire that gun.

The seconds ticked by, and finally Lee stepped forward from the corner of your eye.

“Em,” he urged. This world had made him strong and mean, but he was still the kindest of the trio. Had almost even been a friend back at camp.

“Let her go.”

She did— reluctantly, from the cruel look in her eye, and the way she practically threw you back.

“Either you finally grew the fuck up or you learned how to tell a half-decent lie,” she hissed.

You bit back that sigh of relief.

“Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I don’t know how to survive.”

She scoffed. Then looked down at Daryl, a few feet away.

“Use what you can use,” she said under her breath.

“Yeah.”

A bitter taste settled in your mouth. The implication that you were just using Daryl made your throat sting, but you knew that nauseating assumption was the only thing keeping the both of you from being riddled with bullets.

You only hoped Daryl knew that too; that his fallen head and the squeeze of his eyes in pain and regret were all an act.

“Well, he doesn't seem to have much use anymore,” Ross spat. He was still holding Daryl’s crossbow, waving it in front of him as a childish taunt.

You dragged your eyes away from him, afraid of the look in his eye if he’d met yours back, and cautious of giving any hint that you did care about him further than whatever use he could provide.

“How’d you guys find me, anyway?”

Me— not us.

“We were already close. Smelt the fire,” Lee answered.

“Right.” You nodded, silently cursing yourself. “I guess I’m just lucky it was you three.”

“You are,” Ross added. “If it was his people, they'd kill you in a fucking heartbeat.”

“How are you so sure?

“Everyone’s dead. Brian. Mitch. Lily.” Lee sighed. Your heart dropped at the mention of the little girl. “We’re the only ones that got out.”

“Did you see Tara?”

Emily rolled her eyes. Ross was too busy glaring down at Daryl to give you the time of day.

“Last I saw she was hiding behind the tank, jumping at her own shadow.” Lee shook his head.

You nodded. Tara was a sweet girl and had been more of a friend than anyone else back at camp, even if it was only for the short time before Brian took over and led you all into a losing battle. It was only because you were searching for her that you came across Mitch and that little boy in the first place. You guessed it was likely she was dead, too, considering everything they’d said.

“But wait, if you thought you were the only survivors, why follow the smoke?” Your brow furrowed, glancing across the room at the various faces. Blood and dirt splattered all of them, while your hair was just barely dry, skin clean. They looked like they’d been through hell. “Why risk it?”

Emily scoffed from behind, beckoning a glance over your shoulder.

“They killed our people. All of them,” Ross answered, tone firm.

“They don’t get to live.”

You managed to bite back your retort— maybe if we hadn’t attacked them, they wouldn’t have killed any of us. But the look on your face was harder to control. Growing up, your brother used to joke about your eyes offering a glimpse into your mind; it was cheesy, but unfortunately true.

Lee saw through it, he always did have that skill. It was that inch of softness preserved beyond all those scars and trauma that made sniffing out your weaknesses a type of second nature. Thankfully, the hotheads of the group, Emily and Ross, were a different story.

“You don’t agree?” asked Lee.

“I— I just…” You shook your head. Your words had to be careful— precise— if you wanted to keep this facade up long enough to survive. “You know I’ve never been one for killing. But after everything, I get it.”

Your eyes fell to Daryl, reluctantly, and your lip almost quivered with the next question.

“Have you found any of them?”

They all knew what you meant— have you killed any of them?

Any more.

You could still see that sword slice into the old man’s neck.

Tempted by your question, Daryl palmed the ground and gave himself the leverage to position his battered body an inch straighter. His bangs still hung in front of his narrow eyes, dirt smeared across his tense, right forearm that took on his weight, his left side still dripping with blood. It’d been about thirty minutes that you’d seen him clean, now he looked as beaten as ever.

Ross’ boot slammed into his back— throwing him back down to the ground. The breath was knocked out of Daryl’s lungs, rough coughing echoed throughout the room between low whimpers of pain.

“Stop moving, asshole.” Ross grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his neck back to growl in his ear.

That was it— seeing Daryl’s neck stretched back, veins tense with adrenaline and his teeth barred made you snap.

“Ross!” You stepped forward. “He’s—“

Emily was quick to push you back, hand heavy on your chest. But she didn’t raise the gun again. Her intense stare was almost as terrifying, anyway.

“Well you definitely haven’t grown up,” she mocked. You’d always had an aversion to violence back at the camp, which was uniquely odd in this world. That was probably why she didn’t like you, to begin with. “So the question is, are you lying to us? Or him?”

You huffed, “I already told you.”

When her gaze didn’t lessen, you sighed in defeat, “Em.”

She scoffed at the nickname.

“Y’know, I saw you back there,” Emily sneered. “You didn’t shoot a single bullet.”

That wasn’t true— but you’d probably be dead if she knew any better.

You inhaled.

“I was going to say that he’s not worth it. Look, he’s already hurt. Shot.” You tried not to choke on that last word. “There’s a herd not far from here, and those shots you fired are gonna draw them in on us, so we should just get the hell out of here already.”

You hadn’t seen a biter in two days.

It might’ve been a lie, the kind that always raised your voice an octave higher, but unless she was willing to risk her life to call your bluff, you figured it was your best shot.

“You thought it yourself, right? When we heard the shots?”

Emily’s expression faltered for a moment, eyes darting to the store’s front. Newspapers painted the wide windows, blurry rays of sun shining through. Her hand fell off you, again, only this time she seemed to be deterred by her own distraction.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" she hissed.

"It can be hard to think straight with a gun in your face."

Ross stepped forward, past Daryl’s crouched state.

“Thanks for the warning.” He nodded at you, before turning to half-heartedly reason with Emily, who's face was twisted after your retort. “She might be a coward, but she’s still one of us.”

They held each other’s stares for a second until Lee’s tired sigh interrupted the tense air.

“No one’s gonna check the damn street?” he muttered while crossing the storefront to peel an edge of the newspaper back.

“Shit,” he gasped. “She’s right. They’re coming.”

Your heart squeezed.

Fuck.

Of all the times to be proved right…

“Find our exit,” Ross barked.

Lee followed his order, running to the back of the gas station and propping the steel door open. He glanced left and right, then called back out, “Got a minute, maybe two. I’ll find a path.”

Ross glared down at Emily. “There’s no time to argue. You ready for this?”

“Whatever.”

An apathetic agreement was enough, all things considered. Ross grabbed your knife from her grip and turned on his heel to face you. “Here.” He handed the blade to you first, then shoved a spare pistol into your other hand. “Might need that, too.”

“She ain’t gonna use it anyway,” Emily scoffed, walking past you toward Daryl.

"What are we gonna do about this prick?"

"Leave him for the biters if you want." Ross shrugged. "Asshole ain't going anywhere on his own."

"I'd rather no loose ends."

Your throat tightened, eyes lingering on her gun and the way determined, malicious fingers wrapped around the trigger.

Ready to pull.

You knew that look. You’d had it twice before. You were sure it had been more than that for Emily. She seemed too disinterested, too disconnected from the reality of being on the cusp of taking a life.

Ross followed her, walking toward the backdoor. Neither of them, for all their firey hostility, had eyes for you; arrogance had taken root, rotting away any precaution. It didn't matter that you'd survived two years before finding their camp, or that you'd survived the prison massacre that, by their own admission, left everyone dead. You were weak to them. Harmless. No one other than Daryl was interested in the way you handled that gun, checking the chamber and cocking it, slow and silent.

They certainly didn’t have the diligence to notice how your expression suddenly mirrored Emily’s.

Before she could, you pulled.

One shot into the back of her skull, then two into his spine. Ross was farther, harder to aim at, but he dropped just like she did, nonetheless.

“Guys?” Lee’s voice echoed from outside.

You charged forward, kicking the brick from the door frame before the heavy metal slammed shut. From the other side, you heard him yell a curse and the loud thump of his shoulder hitting the door. But the lock was automatic, and the steel was too thick to break down.

Then there were shots. Screaming.

The growls of the dead.

You stepped back and felt something sticky below. Blood— Ross’ blood— coated your shoe. Your mouth parted, staring at the thick red pool, filling in the gaps where your sole had been. With a shaky hand, you grabbed the lone backpack— Daryl’s bag was still outside, probably crushed under the dead’s feet— then ran back to him. It didn’t matter how thick that steel was, once the dead surrounded the building they’d bring down the windows in seconds.

Lee would keep the dead busy long enough to get out.

At least, you hoped so.

Bloody footprints marked your path through the building, stumbling back to Daryl who was grabbing onto the shelf of an aisle, trying to lift himself back up.

You knelt in front of him, not even thinking before you moved his bangs away from his face. Your eyes flickered across his hurt, noticing the cut on his lip was just that, a cut, and the redness at his jaw wasn't the only bruise forming.

“They only shot your arm?”

“Mhm. Hit me over the head, too.” He winced as you brushed your fingers over his forehead, feeling a bump hidden in his hairline.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Another thump against that door.

You pulled off your zip-up hoodie, tying it around his shoulder. Hell, you didn’t even know if that was the right technique or if he’d be better off with one of those padded bandages in your bag instead of some half-hearted tourniquet, but you didn’t exactly have the time to think it through, either.

Daryl hissed from the pressure, but bit back a groan. "My bow."

You blanked for a second, brain foggy under the pressure, but once you snapped back into focus, you dashed back to Ross to grab the crossbow he'd been swinging around. Then, back by Daryl's side, you bent down to lift him.

“Come on,” you huffed, dragging his body by his right forearm— the one that wasn’t marked with streaks of blood. He groaned in pain as you pulled him up, wrapping his arm and weight around your shoulder. The crossbow, the backpack, and him were all heavy— too heavy. You tried to take a step forward and stumbled, just narrowly catching yourself.

“Put it on my back,” Daryl mumbled.

“O— Okay, just stay still.”

His arm slipped off you and you buckled the strap around his chest. It weighed down his already hurt body but he nodded, anyway. You wrapped his arm back around you and started limping forward again.

The front door Emily must’ve snuck through was slightly open, a ray of sunlight beckoning you through. You and Daryl followed it, shuffling out to the open road. It was wide and bare of biters; they’d all been distracted by Lee.

And you, you tried your absolute hardest not to be.

The dead were relentless. Anyone around these days was well aware of that. Though that expectation of their brutality never seemed to be enough because every time you were actually faced with it, reality hit you in the gut all over again.

Lee’s screams were cruel. Torturous. The haunting gurgle of pain and blood caught in his throat as he died a slow and excruciating death. Even if you hadn’t seen the rip of his muscle and skin between yellow teeth, you could hear it, imagine it— you almost did, before your grip on Daryl slipped an inch, pulling your attention back.

“It's okay. We’re okay,” you gritted between clenched teeth and continued forward.

Daryl shuffled beside you, your head frantically turning left and right to watch for any biters. Your grip on Ross’ pistol was always tight and ready. Even if firing a bullet next to a herd, no matter the size, was the last thing you wanted to do.

It went on like that for a while, until he was pale, and the distance between you and the gas station felt far enough.

Walking down a stretch of small, run-down cottages, you stopped at one with a broken tire swing and overgrown grass. Even the stone path to the peeling white porch was difficult as Daryl almost tripped over any imbalance underneath him.

You had to clear the house, you knew that, but you didn’t want a bleeding, almost unconscious Daryl to be stuck on that porch like a giant ‘eat me’ sign, either. Just in case that herd was still moving. Once you got the door open, you led him inside too, resting him against the wall of the front hallway. He sighed when you finally unbuckled the crossbow strap and dropped the weapon to the floor, next to his feet.

“I need to clear the house. Can you stay here?”

He slipped down an inch, and you grabbed his waist out of instinct. Something warm coated your hands, something thick and bright red.

“Fuck, you’re still bleeding.”

“‘M fine,” Daryl slurred, “jus’ need to sit a minute.”

“Come on,” you groaned, then led him around the small foyer, into a living room. With his arm thrown over your shoulder again, you hurried to the couch before you almost collapsed under him.

He fell onto the firm cushion with a low groan. You dropped the backpack next to him and decided clearing the house could wait until you got Daryl settled— so long as you were quiet enough.

You grabbed a pillow and ripped the case off, folding it into a pad.

“Here, put firm pressure,” you mumbled.

Daryl listened, but his energy was dwindling. Every creek in the floorboards, whining under the weight of your knees, had your heart skipping a beat. Panic was soaking your muscles, making you twitch with every shift in the goddamn air.

“Go,” he rasped. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You wanted to protest. Didn't want to leave his side until the bleeding had stopped and his skin pinkened up again.

But, despite his exhaustion, Daryl's stare was firm.

“Just stay awake,” you whispered, unsheathing your knife. “I’ll be back soon.”

————————————————————

A/N: oops? funny thing. my first draft for this was like 1700 words and I thought I'd just have a short part to share. well... it ended up at 4.1k lol

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

#daryl dixon x reader

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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Here is a list of stuff I love/recommend from writers I think are neat. Please be sure to check out their blogs and their other stuff too! I will be updating this list the more I find stuff I love.

*this list is arranged in alphabetical order

❤️‍🔥 = smut (18+) 💝 = fluff 💔 = angst 👀 = suggestive/implied smut

❧ @collecting-stories ↳ I am not sure if this writer is currently writing for Daryl at the moment, but I ADORE their Daryl content! Be sure to check them out, and maybe you'll find that they write for some other characters you like, too!

❧ @devnmon ↳ Rye is one of my pals, and they just so happen to write some of the best Daryl Dixon fanfiction ever. Like, ever. They write some of the sweetest, sauciest, sexiest smut I've ever read, and their writing style is just amazing. I am so bad at describing this kind of stuff, but trust me when I say that they are essential reading if you like Daryl Dixon x Reader!

❧ @haruhey ↳ So much has been said about Haru, but I truly cannot express how amazing their work is. Not only do they write the most mind-blowing, earth-shattering smut on this planet, but they also put so much care and detail and love into their writing. I love how they put tons of effort into creating a real relationship between Daryl and the reader character. It's truly spectacular. Please check their stuff out if you haven't already.

❧ @normanplusdaryl ↳ Ari is just starting on her writing journey, and boy is she already turning out to be another ICONIC addition to the Daryl Dixon x Reader family. I love the way she writes Daryl, how he's true to his character and does/says things I actually think he would do/say. That is a really hard thing to do! Plus, she writes angst super well, and, once again, that is not an easy feat.

❧ @starlessea ↳ This writer's work pretty much introduced me to the world of Daryl Dixon x Reader. In fact, her series, Here Comes the Sun, is what inspired me to write my own series, and my own fanfiction in general.

❧ @weretheones ↳ Madi is not only one of the sweetest, kindest, smartest, funniest, coolest, most talented people you will ever meet, she is also a stellar writer who truly understands the complexities of Daryl's character and basically everything about him. She is truly the gem of Daryl Dixon x Reader. She is an icon, a star, a revolutionary. She rocks my world. Oh, and she is one of the best angst writers. Ever. I don't even particularly like angst, but Madi? She does it so well that it's not even angst, it's just pure art.

❧ Back to Black by normanplusdaryl | 💔 ↳ Summary: Daryl comes home after many years to face the consequences of his actions. ↳ Word Count: 2.5k

❧ Doctor's Orders by weretheones | 💔 ↳ Summary: When a sprained ankle takes you off run duty, the new girl goes in your place. Which would’ve been fine– if she didn’t have that brilliant wit, gorgeous smile, and effortless skill. But she did. And it was only a matter of time before Daryl noticed too. (Season 4) ↳ Word Count: 7k

❧ Gone For Good | Part 1 & 2 by weretheones | 💔💝 ↳ Summary: It was easy to lose hope when everyone around you started dropping like flies. When the flu hit, Daryl saw your optimism drain alongside your health, but it wasn’t until the brutal attack of the Governor that he lost his. ↳ Word Count: 9k (total)

❧ Hide Away With Me by haruhey | 💝👀 ↳ Summary: Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms. ↳ Word Count: 3.6k

❧ In Vino Veritas by haruhey | ❤️‍🔥 ↳ Summary: After a particularly rough run, Daryl wants nothing more than to shut himself away from everyone with you. However, he’d agreed days prior to be your ‘date’ to one of Alexandria’s welcoming parties thinking you needed someone to share the pain of new people with. Guilt gnaws at him the whole night and he gets wasted to numb the feeling, resulting in you having to carry him home. The alcohol in his system and the way that dress hugs you makes him particularly… talkative, and as the Romans say, in wine there is truth. ↳ Word Count: 30k

❧ Late To the Party by devnmon | ❤️‍🔥 ↳ Summary: Daryl has a knife kink. ↳ Word Count: 7.1k

❧ No Rush by weretheones | ❤️‍🔥 ↳ Summary: Daryl took his time with you. ↳ Word Count: 950

❧ You Deserve the World by devnmon | 💝💔👀 ↳ Summary: Daryl’s been insecure about his age starting to show, and is worried he’ll lose you. You show him every way he won’t. ↳ Word Count: 3.4k

❧ You, You, You by normanplusdaryl | 💝👀 ↳ Summary: After a long night, Daryl comes home and you decide he needs a little break. ↳ Word Count: 1.2k

❧ All You Got by weretheones | 💝💔 ↳ Summary: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

❧ Georgia by collectingstories | 💝 ↳ Summary: King County, Georgia. In a small town like that, where everyone knows everyone, people can get pigeon-holed into personalities that aren’t their own. Daryl Dixon was a troublemaker, a good-for-nothing, redneck kid who would grow up to be just like his dad. Drinking too much, smoking too much, and cheating his way through life. But Daryl isn’t any of the things people say he is and you’re willing to shoulder the burden of their judgement when you find yourself falling for him.

❧ Here Comes the Sun by starlessea | 💝👀 ↳ Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you’re not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn’t like your singing, or that you can’t use a gun for shit - and don’t get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he’s found a best friend for life, and that he doesn’t actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Updated: 3/13/2023

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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RYE ARE YOU SERIOUS RN

THAT WAS SO GOOD I FELT MY HEART FLUTTERING AS I READ IT

Seriously, I looooovveeee insecure Daryl (I mean I don't, but I love him being insecure and the reader cheering him up by telling him how perfect he is because it's so sweet). And the way you wrote him is just flawless. And READER IS SO GOOD TO HIM AHHHHH. It is so satisfying when reader treats Daryl well because ugh it's absolutely what he deserves. He deserves the best partner in the world.

This was also angst done perfectly tbh. Like I know angst can be super intense and crazy sad, but this was just perfect because the angst was balanced out by fluff and UGH it was just amazingly done.

And oh my god I love how at the end he wanted to keep the light on while they um... boinked. Like yesssss he knows he's hot now pls. I love Daryl being confident after reader tells him how much they love him because it shows just how much Daryl cares about them and values their opinion. It's so sweeettttt.

New favorite comfort fic. So adorable and amazing. You're such a good writer I can't handle it. <3

You Deserve the World

Originally written by @avanatural; credit to her for the idea and inspiring me as well.

Summary: Daryl's been insecure about his age starting to show, and is worried he'll lose you. You show him every way he won't.

warnings: comfort, (a lil angst), fluff, implied smut.

wc: 3.4k

Daryl's back ached as he slid the crossbow from his back and dropped it onto a wooden side table, clattering loudly, his vest the next thing pulled off his body, leaving it on the chair beside his bow. Unbuttoning his shirt, the cotton tightened around his biceps, until he finally ripped it from his torso and left the shirt on the ground behind him.

Now freed from the confines of his tight clothing, his arms stretched out, muscles flexing in the process. Daryl glanced around the room per usual, until his eyes came across the mirror in the corner of your room. Slowly, he sauntered towards it, pushing his shoulders down as he approached.

The archer studied himself intently. All of his features remained as they were - same cerulean eyes, distinctive birthmarks, scar crossing over his left eyebrow and part of his cheek, and his rounded nose. Daryl couldn't help the fact of time passing, and he definitely couldn't help the fact that aging was catching up with him. A few new lines on his face became more prominent, and the bags under his eyes from minimal sleep only bore into him further.

He tried to force a smile, but stopped before the realization of wrinkles and other lines made him even more self-conscious. Daryl grunted to himself, before running a hand through the tousled hickory of his hair. Sunlight hit the crown of his head, illuminating its unwashed state, along with the few grey hairs that managed to show themselves. The hairs of his beard were the first on him to become grey without him knowing.

Aging was an aspect of life he couldn't get used to. He didn't want to get used to it either. Though it was only a part of growing older with time. Not only did he grow accustomed to working out more often in order to stay on top of his game, but his hunting agility was having a lower success rate each time he was out there.

On the contrary, he'd been worried about keeping up with his partner.

You, the one of his dreams. If his aging continued at the rate it began, he was worried that you'd grow tired of his older features and desire someone younger than him. Someone better than him.

Daryl knew you were popular amongst the men of Alexandria, those better options only poking at the back of his throat as if it were bile waiting to give. Being in a constant state of hyperawareness whenever you two were out in the community had exhausted him to his core.

Every time one of Deanna's sons or any of the other guys in the community even caught a glance of you from across the courtyard, Daryl wanted to pummel them into the ground, but push you into their arms from his all the same.

Although Daryl felt this way, he realized the strength of your bond with him went deeper than just physical attraction. The two of you cared deeply for one another, and you always tried to clear his mind of any negative thoughts.

You're enough the way you are, my love. I don't want you any other way than that.

With a deep breath, Daryl decided to push the nagging thoughts from his mind and trudge over to the dresser. He fidgeted with the button of his jeans, pulling them off his legs and ending up next to the shirt he'd tossed as well.

There was conveniently another mirror in the corner, one that took the full image of him into account. It was noticeable to him when he'd noticed movement from out of his peripheral vision. It would have only taken a glance to the left before seeing his figure in full length. Stood in only a pair of boxers, his hands sifted through one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of black jeans. A glance downward at his body stopped his movements, and the pair of pants fell from his grip.

Despite everything telling him not to, his eyes drifted to the left. Once the full image of him in the mirror hit his eyes, the disgusting thoughts he had a moment before busted down the door in his mind. Daryl stepped in front of the mirror, jeans left on the dresser.

Cerulean eyes raked over every inch of his body as harmful thoughts flooded his head again. His thighs weren't as taught as they once were, his pecs weren’t as defined. His fingertips grazed over the expanse of his belly, where some scars lay not as prominent as others. Eyebrows furrowed and a scowl made its way onto his face.

His partner was perfect to him, and he wanted to be perfect to them, too.

As if she'd read his mind, you came walking into the room, that same smile on your face that made Daryl want to live forever. He hadn't noticed her at first, standing against the doorway. You tilted your head to the side, taking in the view of him in only boxers, hands tracing his stomach.

"Checking yourself out?" you chuckled softly, picking up a book on a dresser near the door.

Daryl's eyes locked on his reflection, his button nose scrunching up.

When he didn't reply with one of his quips or side comments like you were expecting, you took notice of the furrowed eyebrows and slouched state.

You'd noticed something different in Daryl these days. One look at the displeasure on his face, and you realized something was up. More solo hunts, fewer intimate moments in the bedroom.

Daryl, of all people, was insecure about how he looked.

Your lip caught between your teeth, dropping the book back onto the dresser. "Daryl, are you alright?" Shuffling over to him, you placed a hand on his shoulder. The contact made his muscles flex, the warmth of your palm against him growing his enamor for you.

Daryl sighed, knowing he'd been brushing you off every time you asked him if he was okay. His avoidance level had dwindled down to nothing, not wanting to push you away any more than he already had. You were his person, the one he could always confide in, and you listened every single time.

"Do you- Do you think I'm gettin' old?" he questioned under his breath, eyes still unwavering from the mirror.

Your chest tightened at the mere suggestion of his aging. To you, Daryl was the most perfect anyone could ever be- his aura, his personality, his appearance, his quips, even his idiosyncrasies, but most of all, his heart.

"No, I don't," you replied honestly, "You been thinking about that a lot, huh?"

Daryl's shoulders stiffened as he finally ripped his eyes away from the view of the mirror, turning completely to face you. Reaching out to cup his cheek in a loving touch, leaning into it and closing his eyes.

"What made you think about that, huh?" you inquired, letting go of his cheek and trailing your fingers over the soft hairs that adorned his face.

Daryl's eyes opened again, lines on his face reappearing in the furrowed state of his eyebrows. "I know the way those pricks in the town look at ya.. Younger guys."

Your gaze shifted back and forth from his sapphire eyes, the realization hitting you. "Is this about Spencer?"

When you'd first gotten to Alexandria, your relationship with Daryl was just beginning. You hadn't told the rest of your group about it yet, but from the first time you saw Spencer, he had his eye on you. He'd admittedly been attractive to you at first, but he had absolutely nothing on your Daryl.

Spencer had pulled you aside the night of Deanna's party, asking you questions about yourself and wanting to get to know you better. His motives seemed innocent but there was a slight glint of mischief in his eye. When he suggested something more perverted, you knew he only saw you as a one night stand and nothing more. You explained to him that you weren't interested, on account of being taken by a different, better man.

Spencer Monroe could never compare to Daryl Dixon.

"He didn't want me like you want me. I could never want that asshole, and I don't." If Daryl knew the things Spencer said about him after you told him you were taken, he would have pummeled his face into the ground.

"I'm way older than you," Daryl mumbled, "One day ya might wanna take him up on that, or any of 'em."

"You really think I want them? That they're better than you?" you questioned, your hand grabbing his.

"Don't ya think so?"

You scoffed, "What could any one of them give me? I know for a fact that they couldn't be as good to me as you are. I'm a damn lucky person to have you. I scored you, Daryl Dixon. Not the other way around. You always had my back, every time I've needed you."

"'Course I do, an' you always got mine, too. I jus' don't see why," He shook his head, "You don't gotta settle for me-"

"You know what, D? Enough, look into the mirror right here," you stated, grasping his shoulders and turning him to see his figure. "Let's start with your shoulders." You gave them a slight squeeze, flesh emerging from between your fingers. "They're so big and broad, and I'm obsessed with them."

Your statement made a corner of Daryl's mouth jolt upwards, forming just the tiniest bit of smile on his face. His mind brought him back to the memories of you gripping them when intwined in a hug or kiss, but especially when you were making love.

You shuffled to stand next to him, affectionately running your fingers down his thick forearm. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, you took his hand in yours. "These hands and arms of yours are so strong, especially when you're holding me close, when you touch me. You know I appreciate how handy you are, especially when you're using that crossbow of yours, and working on your bike or cars."

Daryl hummed, intertwining his fingers with yours.

Smiling at his reflection, you continued, "I adore your stomach, know that? You're all muscle and firm where it matters most, but the softness of your stomach doesn't compare to the rest of you. I find that so incredibly sexy, know that?"

"Ya really like that?" Daryl questioned with disbelief, locking his eyes with yours in the reflection.

You nodded, leaning your cheek against his arm before placing a soft kiss on his bicep. "Yeah, I do." You already knew the tension in his body was starting to dissipate. "You wanna know what else I think?"

"Mhm," He replied almost instantly. Daryl felt selfish asking for your compliments, but he knew you'd give them to him every time he asked. It was simply too fulfilling to pass up.

"Your thighs are perfect, and they're such a strong part of you. I love sitting on them in your lap. And this?" You dropped his hand from yours, sliding it behind him to lightly squeeze his butt. He jolted slightly at the contact and smirked. "This is firm and so cute. A lot perkier than mine, too."

Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but your hands began to play with the hem of his boxers near his crotch, silencing him. "I assume this morning is a good example of what I think about this?"

His smirk widened, filling him with satisfaction of the fact that he could still make you feel good in bed.

"Don't even get me started on your pretty face," You shifted, cupping his face with your hands again. Your eyes trailed over his face, taking in his intoxicating features. "Your eyes are so deep, like the ocean. When you look at me, I forget what I'm going to say because of the way you look at me."

Daryl shifted closer, purposely to make you flustered. His eyes met yours in the playful way he'd done a thousand times before, and you recognized the expression immediately.

"Don't do that to me now.." You said, rolling your eyes.

A hearty chuckle erupted from him at your flustered state, wrinkles around his eyes emerging once again.

"Your lips are so damn tempting, pretty and pink like they were made for mine," you went on, "You have perfect teeth and whenever you smile at me, my heart jumps a mile high. I'm also jealous of your birthmark, and how it gets to go everywhere with you on that handsome face of yours. But this..." you took a moment to run your hands along the wispy hairs of his chin and jaw, "is my favorite thing to feel when we kiss."

"Oh, really?" He questioned, that signature smirk of his growing inch by inch, "Guess I better kiss ya more often."

You beamed at his words, a blush rushing onto your cheeks as you let go of his face. "I'm such a lucky woman to have you, such an attractive man, by my side. You say guys notice me, but you aren't aware of just how many women practically drool over you when you're around the town. Warms my heart and makes me jealous at the same time," you confessed.

Daryl's head tilted to the side, "You got nothin' to worry about, sunshine."

"Well, neither do you, got that?"

He sighed, meeting your gaze with enamor filled eyes, another smirk tugging at his lips, "Yes, ma'am."

Daryl leaned down to your face and attached his lips to yours. His kiss was soft and slow, a low hum escaping you. His toned arms surrounded your waist, pulling you in close to his chest.

Your hands flew up around his neck, toying with the long strands, "I'm obsessed with your hair, too." You told him after pulling back from the kiss.

His grasp only tightened around you, arms flexing around your waist, bodies pressed together. Your foreheads slightly touched as you talked quietly.

"I gotta few gray hairs..." He retorted, those large hands of his snaking behind to your lower back.

"Yes.. and? You'd look so hot with gray hair."

You sayin' ya wanna grow old with me, hun?" He inquired, hands squeezing around your butt now.

You grinned up at him through your lashes, "Of course. That is, if we live long enough to do so."

Daryl sighed, "Sounds good to me, darlin'. Now, I believe you were talkin' about my hair.."

You took the opening to run your hands through his bangs, pushing back the strands of hair that framed his face. "I love your long hair, It's so pretty and wavy, for a man like you. I'd love to braid it sometime, if you'd let me. Don't think a guy like Spencer could pull it off as well as you do."

"You love playin' with my hair, don't ya?" He questioned, voice lowering. His large palms rested comfortably on your behind. Daryl enjoyed touching your butt, even when it wasn't in a sexual way. Because of you, he craved intimacy in its most raw form, and with you, it came even easier.

"Absolutely," you responded, taking away what little distance was left between them and rejoining your lips with his. Daryl picked up on the change in tension between you two and grasped at your but a lot firmer than before, using his strong grip to push his crotch against yours.

You mewled into his mouth when she felt the tent in his boxers against you, but you weren't done yet. You placed your hands on his broad chest, and pulled back.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, eyes darkened with lust.

Your fingers found the tattoos on his chest, the heart and other small ones littered across his collarbones. "I have more to say, that's all."

"An' what's that?"

"Your body isn't the only thing about you that makes me crazy for you."

The thought of you worrying about him in this state made his heart race, since he hadn't been thinking very highly of himself. The truth was, Daryl had been thinking that way his entire life, and couldn't help it. Brought up by people who only put him down and made him think so little of himself, he weighed his decisions with every one he made. When he met you, though, was the first time in his life he'd witnessed genuine love and support. You managed to bring him back from those moments every single time he got trapped in one.

You knew he deserved to be loved the way he was, with nothing standing in the way between you and his true self. In this world, he deserved to be given the same amount of love and support that Daryl gave to everyone in the community.

Just hearing about what you thought of him, in every way possible, kept him going in the darkest of times.

"Daryl, there's never been anyone in my life like you, you're so good to me," you said, tone in your voice filled with disbelief. "You think anyone else could treat me the same way you do? Those pricks only want to get in my pants, and dropped me like a fly when they realized I wasn't interested. But you, you became my best friend before anything. You became the one person in my life who knew me. Like, really knew me. And then I just.. fell for you in the process. I'm the luckiest person in the world to have you."

You could've sworn a blush crept its way onto his cheeks, but he dropped his head before you could see better. Two of your fingers looped under his chin and lifted it again. "Don't ever hang your head, Daryl Dixon. You are the best man I know. I've never met anybody as caring as you. I see it in everything you do, the way you care about Rick, about that little girl, Jude? It warms my heart to see. You deserve the world, Daryl."

Daryl knew every word out of your mouth was true. He knew you would never lie to him, and even then, you were terrible at it. The minute you got lost in his ocean eyes, every little fib crumbled to nothing. Like all things, Daryl was better at expressing himself with actions, and not many words. He pulled you into another kiss, and it took your breath away. His strong arms hooked under your thighs, scooping your body up into his arms. A squeal threatened to leave your chest, but it only got swallowed by the archer's lips on yours.

Without restraint, he carried you over to your bed, one you both shared on many occasions, letting his weight fall back on top of it. You giggled as you landed on top of him, taking his pretty face into your hands again and slipped your lips between his again. He groaned, hands attaching to your waist as you attempted to deepen the kiss.

Daryl slid his tongue across your bottom lip, making you moan into his kiss. In response, he opened his mouth to you, tongue gliding across yours with desire. A moment passed before Daryl pushed you over onto the bed, now hovering over you.

All the kissing made you hot, and pretty soon your hands were clawing at Daryl's boxers, chuckling at you as he pushed them down his legs, leaving him bare between you both.

"Hey, now. Tha's not fair at all, is it?" Daryl questioned, very upset with the fact that you couldn't be more clothed. His hands immediately went for your shirt, tugging it over your head. Your pants and underwear followed, placing hungry kisses along the expanses of your skin. There was something different about Daryl now, he hadn't resumed the usual acts of self-consciousness he had recently been taking part in.

Though his hand reached out to turn the lamp in your room off, he felt a restraint when his fingers met the button. Since the days of his insecurities, he felt safe in the darkness while making love to you. It meant security, and kept him from the nervousness that came with the thought of being judged by you.

But now, he didn't have a reason to hide anything from you anymore. His hand resumed his loving touches on your skin. You loved all of him, every single part. There wasn't anything luckier than that.

"How 'bout I leave this on?" he declared, locking his eyes with yours.

"Good, I'd like that."

#go read everything rye has ever written #they're one of the best daryl writers ever #iconic showstopping brilliant amazing talented #daryl dixon x reader #angst #fluff #implied smut

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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So true bestie.

after a particularly long day hunting or a hard day of going on runs for supplies, daryl slumps into bed between your thighs to make out with your pussy. he doesn't eat you out, at least not for a long while, just kisses your clit and along your folds. he nuzzles your inner thigh with his cheek and closes his eyes like he's in heaven, lazily kissing your cunt until his shoulders don't feel so tense :')

#daryl dixon x reader #smut

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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🙏🏻 this was so good are you kidding me like how am I supposed to even put into words how hot this was AHHHHHHHHH

Libraries are the hottest place to have sex don’t @ me.

| silence in the library |

pairing | boyfriend!daryl dixon x f!reader

summary | when searching through Alexandria’s local library, Daryl decides to take advantage of his moment alone with you.

wc | 2k

warning | SMUT so 18+ only! p in v (wrap it irl), mutual masturbation, praise kink, etc. it’s smutty lol

a/n | thank you to my lovelies @weretheones @devnmon @ivuravix @finalgirlrick @normanplusdaryl @spncupcake for beta reading my mess <3 ily!!!

“Higher.”

He grunted as his hands slid past your knees.

You wiggle forward, but it was pointless. “Just a bit higher, Daryl.”

Keep reading

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #smut

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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ARE YOU SHITTING ME MADI?? UM THIS IS THE BEST CHAPTER SO FAR FOR ME.

THEY ARE FLIRTING AND YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE THANKS. Also ngl the phrase “Daryl’s warm flesh” when he was about to get bit by a walker turned me on.

And reader saving Daryl??? Yes. Bashing the walker’s head in with a can of chili. Iconic. AND DARYL GIVING HER HER KNIFE BACK???

AND THEM BONDING OVER LOSING THEIR BROTHERS???!?!?!!

AND DARYL TAKING A PISS? but not really

THAT FUCKING CLIFFHANGER MADI YOU EVIL WOMAN.

No but seriously I loved it so much. I loved so much about it that it’s hard to put it all into words so I hope those Radiohead at the MTV beach house screenshots will suffice. 💕

I will probably also be harassing you on discord about how much I love your series btw. So glad I took this time to catch up.

All You Got | Part 4

Part 4: I Know It Well

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count:  5.9k Warnings: references to character death. description of injury, violence, gore. A/N: hmmmm… might there be an alliance on the horizon for our reader & mr dixon? (if you guys liked the bonding in the last chapter… oh.. just wait)

* this is a repost bc tumblr is mean <3

Sun soaked the backroom through the small window behind. Direct rays landed on Daryl, almost highlighting his discomfort. He hadn’t been back for more than five minutes, but the shift in the air was almost immediate.

Narrow blue eyes were drawn to the dirty carpet— when they weren’t lingering on that thin wooden door. His teeth dug into the skin of his thumb.

It all weighed you down deeper into your chair.

“You seem tense.”

He glanced back at you, thumb falling back to his side.

“How’s your leg?”

“Better. I haven’t had to run in three days, which I imagine helps.”

He nodded, jaw still clenched.

“It’s getting bad out there, isn’t it?”

Daryl sighed, “We should split soon, ‘fore they catch scent.”

Your mouth went dry.

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#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

AHHHHHH THEY KIND OF MADE UP?!?! 🥰 So happy rn. And Daryl tending to her wound??? PLEASE. 🤭 WHY IS HE SO SWEET?? Ok I mean I know that’s kind of the bare minimum but it’s still so sweet, esp since he did that before they even made up like ugh he’s down bad sorry but he is. He’s in love. Don’t @ me.

Once again your writing is utter perfection. I also totally relate to reader not wanting to be alone and being kind of clingy to Daryl lol. Attachment issues 🤪. But also it makes sense because they’re in the apocalypse and, like she said, no one can make it alone. Not even Daryl.

Ughhhhhhh that was so good I need to process it. You are actually the best. Sorry everyone you can all go home because Madi is the best ever. I don’t make the rules I just enforce them. 💕

All You Got | Part 3

Part 3: The Desperate Type

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count:  4.9k Warnings: description of injury, blood. A/N: early update! i was just so excited to post this lol. considering how much action was in the last two parts, i figured these two deserved a break. but while they might be clear of danger (for now), theres still some nasty tension to deal with…

No, no, no.

Your head snapped left, right, then left again. It was the same blur of trees, the same piles of ashes, and the same empty spot ahead of you no matter how many times your eyes ran across the camp.

With a deep inhale, you tried to soothe the increasingly frantic thoughts in your mind before they became rampant. Inhale. Pick away the moments of silence to cling onto so that you could just think.

Daryl had left you alone. Defenceless and hurt— asleep.

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#daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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STOP. She went out of her way to get his poncho. That is so sweet… and the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Nah, I know it’s gonna take a while for them to get together (if they do get together 🤔) but AHHH THEY’RE ALREADY CUTE.

Once again, the attention to detail in your writing and how you tell this story is insane. I love that you’re putting together your own plot with the reader. She has her own backstory which is super cool (I always love when readers aren’t complete blank slates and have more depth to them!). The way you’re dropping subtle hints in every chapter is just 🤌🏻 you’re so good. Like insanely good.

And I love the complexity of their relationship. It’s interesting because you can see both sides—you see why Daryl is obviously resentful towards her, but you can also see that the reader was manipulated by the Governor (aka Brian lol) into doing those things! It’s so multi-dimensional and fun how you’re playing with these layers to their relationship and character.

And not to be me but like… she definitely had a crush on him ok. It might be an unconscious crush, but the way she was eyeing him, studying his appearance at the fire… I see you, reader 🤨. You ain’t slick. I mean I’d be doing it too he’s fine as fuck.

Ok I’m done anyway ily and thank you for sharing this series with us. 🙏🏻 Truly not worthy to be in your presence bestie. You’re awesome.

All You Got | Part 2

Part 2: One Bullet

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count:  4.5k Warnings: description of injury, blood, violence. A/N: part twooooo! we learn a bit more about the reader here, maybe a couple more hints about the knife??? oh, and daryl finally asks some pressing questions. enjoy :)

Ropes of ivy invaded cracks in the road, expanding past what must have once been pristinely manicured lawns. The street was quiet. Sober of the previous night’s constant activity. Even the hungry bellies of the wandering dead had been settled by apathy, and, of course, a complete lack of consciousness.

It was odd to watch them this way.

Without a warm body to rip apart, they really just seemed lost. Unsure where to turn until a noise or smell drew their attention. If it wasn’t for their mangled limbs or grey skin, you might’ve forgotten how vicious they could be. Yet, the thought of becoming hollow like them, driven by hunger alone, was almost more terrifying.

You looked away.

Behind you, the man who’d saved you from those same vicious jaws was packing the few supplies he’d found in the house. A fridge full of expired cheeses and cabinets stacked with bottles of wine that must’ve cost a pretty penny, but not even a can of beans; beyond material wealth, even a house as appealing as this one was relatively empty. The new backpack he found, label still attached, was barely half full. Some batteries, newspaper, a couple of reusable water bottles, and one travel-sized bottle of ibuprofen. He’d already given you two to dry-swallow twenty minutes ago.

They were starting to kick in. You stood by the couch with only a dull throbbing to remind you of the fragility of your situation. Wounded by the one-eyed man you’d naively followed into battle and with no hope of reuniting with your friends— hell, even if their bodies hadn’t been riddled with bullets and teeth marks, you weren’t sure you’d want to see them again. Not after their willingness to shed blood, driven by fear, greed, and selfishness.

At least you could say it had only been fear on your part.

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#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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MADI THIS IS SO GOOD.

You already know some of my thoughts because I beta-read this part, but I simply have to say that the way you write is so beautiful and detailed and immersive. And the way you write Daryl? SO GOOD. You perfectly capture him, from his short, blunt sentences to the descriptions of his appearance and his mannerisms. Truly no one does it like you.

I love how you incorporated the tension between them without telling us there’s tension, but showing it through their dialogue and actions. That’s some skilled writing right there. 🙌🏻 And the whole idea is awesome. I mean, a reader that was with Woodbury and helped take down the prison? That’s so cool! You don’t see fics like that often. And it’s such a perfect setup for enemies to lovers UGH. I mean I know there will be some angst along the way, but that’s only gonna make it ten times better if they kiss, so I really hope that’s gonna happen because I NEED IT. 🫣

Anyway, this is a banger of a way to start a series. You’re actually a genius. Iconic Daryl writer right here, constantly raising the bar for us all and single-handedly keeping the fandom alive as far as I’m concerned. 🫡💕

🫶🏻

All You Got | Part 1

Part 1: All You Got

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count:  3.5k Warnings: description of injury, blood, violence, swearing. A/N: oh wow i am so excited and also so nervous for this series haha. its been a baby of mine for months now, and i finally got around to starting drafts this january. its gone thru so many revisions and edits but i love how its turned out <3 FYI: if you want to follow this series, I’m planning on updating every friday, usually in the evenings (ET).

gif credit: @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Blood dripped between your clasped fingers, soaking the denim down your thigh. There was an unusual heaviness in your muscles, one that made keeping your attention on the door, and the wide-eyed man who’d just barged through it, exhausting. With every shaky breath you released, the aim of your gun weakened.

“Please…”

The man ignored your plea.

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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“It means ya need to move on like I did” Daryl’s voice echoed in the silence of the quiet woods.

“My heart will always belong to ya.”

BROKE ME.

Ari you know how I deal with angst, and I’m such a pussy that I can’t take it, but this??? This is so good that my hurt doesn’t even compare to how amazing this is.

I love how you perfectly put together that reunion. It’s so impressive how you managed to make that interaction awkward and sad, but also so filled with the tension of the knowledge that these two used to be lovers, and it’s strangely sweet how much they still care for each other, which is evident in how they speak and their actions. The reader being so attentive and making sure he’s okay, and Daryl asking how, genuinely, “are you happy?” is so incredibly bittersweet.

I adore how you had Daryl handle the situation. I love that he didn’t bust in through the door and immediately start yelling at her or demanding to know why. He simply remained calm and realized that she wasn’t his anymore. It’s so Daryl. Other people might’ve written him being super emotional and volatile, but you wrote him exactly as how I would imagine him being in this situation.

You’re such a great writer. Pls marry me.

Back to black.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Season 9

Word count: 2.5k

Plot: Daryl comes home after many years to face the consequences of his actions.

Warnings: ANGST, pure ANGST!

A/N: I've been wanting to write this shared idea I had with @finalgirlrick for a while now, I hope I can break your heart (affectionate).

@weretheones I couldnt done it without u, like always! Ily <3

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Daryl was in pain and he knew it.

He tried to ignore the pang running through the wound for several days but the burning sensation wouldn't cave in and the medical herbs were not being really helpful.

Deep down he knew he needed help but somehow the idea of coming back to Alexandria stung more than the freshly cut on his face.

The river flowed quiet and calm, leaving barely any trace of the storm that crashed hard the day before. With one knee on the ground, Daryl watched the water following the trail while contemplating his options.

It’s been so long since he visited Alexandria.

When he decided to follow the river in hopes to find Rick’s body he never thought it would take so long, until days, weeks and months passed by. But he couldn't stop, the promise he made to Michonne drove his body incessantly.

He would never admit it, but there were moments when a small part of his heart hoped the reason why he couldn't find a trace was because his brother was alive.

After many years, that hope slowly started to fade away. Every day became harsher, colder, more dangerous. Sometimes he just survived for instinct, not because he really wanted to.

Days like this were tougher, he could deal with some injury across his face but he wasn't sure how devastating it would be for him to come back home and face everything he left behind to pursue something he wasn't successfully accomplishing.

He never let his mind ramble too much about what was going on back in Alexandria, he knew if he thought about it too much he wouldn't be able to resist dropping everything to go home, to Michonne, to Judith and RJ, to you.

The first years you visited him constantly, bringing food, blankets, fresh clothes or even weapons, anything that could help him out in the woods, trying to be close to him.

Still, that meant you were exposing yourself to the dangers of the path along the river.

He knew you were capable of handling yourself out in the open but Daryl couldn't bear the thought of you being in danger trying to find him. This was his task and no one should suffer with him the consequences of his decision, especially you.

“It’s been years, Daryl, you need to take at least a break, come back home, we can think of a new strategy, maybe this time I could come with you and…”

“Just stop” Daryl spoke in a growl without letting you finish. —“Ya shouldn't be here”.

You sighed, you knew you were pushing some dangerous buttons but after so many times of the same conversation over and over, you needed to make sure he heard you.

“I understand Daryl, I really do, but we need you too, I need you.” you begged.

Daryl’s gaze was glued to the ground, paralyzed with the fear of catching your eyes, he knew if he looked at you nothing would stop him from finally hearing your pleas.

“I talked to Michonne, you know? and she isn't expecting you to fulfill the promise, she just wants you back home, we all do” you continued.

Usually, you could read him like a book but right now, you couldn't point out what was going through his mind.

“I… I… dont think Rick would’ve wanted to see you like this either, Daryl”.

Daryl’s head snapped towards you. His face carried a trace of anger and sadness.

“I’m never gonna stop looking” he finally said, his tone of voice lower than usual — “This stops now, I never asked ya to be here”

The feeling of a thousand needles pinching through your body washed you over. You blinked twice, as fast as you could, trying to swipe away the tears that were forming in the corners of your eyes.

It took two long deep breaths for you to finally be able to speak.

“What does that mean Daryl?” you said almost in a whisper, afraid of an answer you already knew.

Hell, you knew it from the moment that bridge exploded, your legs ran towards Daryl so fast to the sound of the dynamite invading the forest, by the time you got there the flames started to fade away, giving space to dark a fume that took over the sky.

Your eyes searched everywhere for Daryl until you spotted him a few miles away, crossbow in hand. You yelled his name, twice, and when he finally turned to you, you knew, you could see it in his eyes, devastation consuming his body. Nothing would ever be the same from that moment but you loved him enough to fight and delay the inevitable for years, clinging to a hope that now was slipping right between your fingers.

Daryl took a step back, breaking your thoughts. He paced back and forward trying to gather the courage to speak.

“It means ya need to move on like I did” Daryl’s voice echoed in the silence of the quiet woods.

Daryl closed his eyes to the memory and sighed, that was the last time he saw you.

The way your face contorted with pain when he pronounced those words haunted his dreams almost every night. He knew he hurt you, and he regretted it everyday for the last couple of years.

Sometimes, he wondered if you could forgive him, maybe if he came back home and explained to you he never meant that, you’d take him into your arms like all those nights in the tiny basement of your house in Alexandria.

His skin was burning, but inside his veins felt loaded with ice, making him shiver.

That wasn't a good sign. The fever was rising fast, shit, there wasn't another option, he needed to go now before he was too weak to make the ride.

The guards of the guard tower recognized him immediately, the sound of the angry motor was something hard to ignore. “It's Daryl, let him in!” someone yelled from the inside.

Daryl drove through the gates giving them a thankful nod. Alexandria was different from the last time he was there, the community was thriving under Michonne’s leadership, they were not taking any new members for a long time now but still it felt bigger than usual.

“I thought I heard a bike” Aaron approached as soon as the doors closed behind him, extending his arms to give him a big hug.

“It’s been a while” Daryl squeezed his friend’s arm in response.

“It shouldn't be, this is your home too” Aaron gave him a sympathetic smile.

Home He might be back to the place he once called home but he knew the meaning of the term was gone the day he lost you.

“Jesus Daryl, that looks infected” Aaron broke the silence pointing to Daryl’s cut across his face.

“S’ not that bad” Daryl said as he shrugged.

Aaron’s expression changed as soon as he understood the reason behind his sudden visit, tension slowly invading his features.

“Daryl, I think we should talk before you go to the infirmary” Aaron’s tone of voice became serious. “Look, you probably don't know this but…”

“Daddy!” The sudden scream of a child interrupted the conversation. Both men followed the direction of the sound, finding a little girl walking towards them, pouting with fresh tears along her cheeks.

“What happened sweetheart, are you okay?” Aaron took the little girl in his arms, swiping away the tiny drops. “I’m sorry, let me take her home so we can talk” he frowned — “Don't move, I’ll be back in a minute”.

Daryl nodded watching his friend leave, confused by his words and sudden change of demeanor.

Once the residents spotted him he felt exposed. People greeted him with surprise, some of them came forward to ask him how he was doing while others just stared, clearly unaware of who he was.

Anxiety took the best of him, the chances of running into you were high the longer he stayed there, he thought it was for the best if he could sneak in, get his antibiotics and leave before you notice.

He owed you at least that.

The small white house came into his sight, pots full of flowers carefully placed following the road to the stairs. His heart raced when he recognized which kind they were: tulips, your favorite ones.

The curtains on the window were open, leaning on the corner outside the door he peeked inside in hopes to see Siddiq there, but what he saw made him freeze, feeling every inch of his skin electrified.

You were there.

Time didn't seem to pass by you cause he could’ve sworn you looked the same as the last time he saw you, except the pony tail you used to wear everyday was gone, and your hair looked shorter. He smiled recalling how many times you complained about being too long for the damn summer.

God, he missed you.

Daryl endured a lot of things down the river, but being away from you was the hardest one.

After your discussion in the woods, he made himself a promise. To make it through, he could never allow himself to think of you. Not because he didn't want to but because he was certain he wouldn't survive if he did it.

All the feelings he captured inside him all these years were coming out in waves, leaving him in a daze. He wanted to leave, this wasn't what he was planning on, but Daryl felt hypnotized. He drank you in, memorizing for one last time every corner of your beautiful face.

Siddiq’s frame appeared next to yours, whispering something in your ear that made you chuckle. The scene had a hint of intimacy hidden in the way you both looked at eachother.

And then, Siddiq’s hands took your waist, pulling you closer to him, until the distance between your bodies disappeared. He placed one kiss on your forehead followed by another one on your lips and you smiled at the action.

That's why Aaron wanted to talk to him first.

Daryl’s breathing hitched. No, no, no.

Siddiq looked different from the last time Daryl saw him, older, more mature and he could’ve sworn even taller.

He looked like the happiest man on earth. Daryl couldn't blame him, once he felt like that too.

He took your hand giving it one last kiss before waving goodbye, Daryl’s eyes were glued to the action, feeling a strange sense of relief once he left the room.

He didn't know how long he stood there in front of the door but he couldn't move, it felt like the strength from the earth was nailing him to the wooden deck, immobilizing his body. Everything hurt, if the fever didn't kill him this certainly would.

Immerse in his thoughts he missed the sound of your steps approaching the door, you opened it before he could make a move.

“Da.. Daryl?!” your eyes widened at him. — “What are you doing here?!”

The shock of having you suddenly so close left him flabbergasted, he remained silent feeling the lump on his throat getting bigger, words couldn't physically come out of his mouth.

Your eyes scanned him, you knew Daryl and the only reason he would come back was if he was dangerously injured.

His skin looked pale, and the bags under his eyes were starting to have a purple look but what really concerned you, was the swollen massive cut across his right eye.

You brought your hand towards his forehead, he was burning.

“Oh my god! Come in, come in." — " We need to take care of that, it’s already infected” you rushed him in as fast as you could.

Daryl nodded, still unable to talk.

Sitting on the stretcher Daryl watched your trained hands hurriedly clean up his wound, the smell of your sweet perfume captivated his nostrils every time you leaned over to apply some ointment. He hummed inwardly with delight, even as you were trying to be really careful to not hurt him further, he couldn't feel a thing, his mind was consumed in the sensation of your delicate touch.

“Here, you need to take one in the morning before eating, make sure to have something in your stomach, please” you softly said while giving him a bottle of pills.

“Ya sure don't need this?” guilt pang him, he was strong, two pills would do the trick, he didn't need more.

“Don't fight me, please?, I know what I’m doing” you scolded him tittling your head.

“Yeah, I know” Daryl’s voice came out almost in a whisper.

The tension in the air was palpable, filled with a thousand emotions. There was so much history between the two of you, even if you weren't together now, both of you knew you would always love and care for each other to the end.

Your heart was pounding so hard you were afraid you’d faint right there. You knew you would see Daryl again, sure, but not like this, not after Siddiq just left.

It took a long time before you could feel like yourself again, days and sleepless nights wondering for years why you weren't enough. Sometimes you would go outside the gates of Alexandria determined to search for him and talk, beg for him to take you back, to love you again. But his words rang loud in your head whenever you approached near the river “It means ya need to move on like I did”.

“M’ sorry” Daryl broke the cruel silence. “I didn't knew”

You closed your eyes, facing the window, unable to look at his face. It was crazy how deep down the feelings you had for him still burned like fire, hearing the sound of his voice made your heart race, attempting to jump out of your chest.

“Are ya happy?” Daryl continued, standing from the stretcher walking over to you. — “I need to know”.

You were happy indeed. Siddiq brought something different in you, a version you enjoyed. His love was calm, easy, steady, exactly what you needed after so much time alone feeling pity for yourself. A breath of fresh air for your drowning soul.

Sure, it wasn't the fervent passionate love you felt for Daryl, but it was enough to make you happy.

“I am” you simply answered. “And I hope you found the peace you were looking for”.

Daryl nodded, trying to keep himself together. He was truly glad you were happy but the sorrow he felt knowing he wasn't the reason behind overwhelmed him.

He couldn't blame you. You fought hard for many years to be close to him but the grief blinded him until it was too late. He told you to move on, so you did. It wasn't that hard to understand.

“Thank ya for the medicine and everythin’, angel.” he managed to answer.

Your head buzzed at those words, it took all of your strength to not run into his arms.

“Daryl, I…” you mumbled, hugging yourself afraid of falling apart into pieces.

Wishing he was a better man, Daryl walked towards the door crushed by the reality he was facing. He raised his eyes to yours for one last time.

“My heart will always belong to ya.” Daryl pronounced before crossing the frame of the front door, landing every word right inside your aching heart.

You watched him leave wondering if you were making a mistake, but fully aware that right now, there was nothing you could do.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #angst

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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Oh my god Ari this was so cute!!!

I loved how you delved into Daryl’s perspective of the Whisperer drama, and then him coming home to his loving girl?? AHHH. So sweet. That’s honestly what Daryl deserves.

Showering with Daryl and helping him get clean is always going to be one of the best tropes, and you wrote it so well because I’m blushing and smiling and giggling and twirling my hair and kicking my feet!! I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to read this. It’s so good bestie. You’re so good.

I’m proud to call you my friend. My beautiful, kind, extremely talented friend. 💕 Please keep writing for Daryl because you are so good at it and you write him so well!!!!

You, you, you.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Season 10

Word count: 1.2k

Plot: After a long night, Daryl comes home and you decide he needs a little break.

Warnings: It's not smut but its implied? It's nothing explicit ig.

A/N: This is my second fic and I can not believe I'm actually doing this lmao, this is one of my favorite scenes on the show and I've always thought Daryl deserved someone who take care of him after a rough night. Thanks to my friend @weretheones for all the amazing help, I seriously couldnt have done it without u, muah!

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The dawn was beginning to come out when the gates of Alexandria came to Daryl’s sight, it had been a long night for him, where everything that could go wrong actually did.

The walk home was silent between the archer and his best friend, the only sound intercepting the thick tension were the grunts of the hooded whisperer trying to set himself free. This would end up really bad, he could feel it in his gut.

Daryl’s mind was spinning around what happened, trying to understand Carol’s actions. He knew she wasn't the same after what Alpha did, but after all these months he could only hope her grief was at least healing — he was clearly wrong. There was something he couldn't identify in her eyes, more than anger or revenge, something that scared him.

Gabriel saw them coming inside and hurried once he spotted their hostage.

“You put us all at risk!” he barked at Carol.

“We need to find that horde before it shows up in our gates” Carol replied.

“So you decided for all of us? Knowing what it could mean?” Gabriel angrily answered back.

“Don’t matter anymore, we still gotta fin’ them” Daryl's voice came from behind the livid father — “We will figure it out'” he stated, ending the discussion as he started to walk home, to his home. To you.

He opened the door slowly trying to be quiet, you were probably still asleep and he would be damned if he perturbed your very needed rest. Daryl placed his crossbow down on the table you reserved for it. “Come on baby!” you pouted, “This way you can always know where you left it and it’s easy for you to grab it on a run! It’s a win - win, don't you think?” Your eyes were so wide with excitement he couldn't say anything else but to peck your lips while nodding “Alrigh’” he simply answered.

The memory made him smile, then, it hit him. That was the reason why Carol’s intentions to stir things up scared the hell out of him: he was finally happy. After so many years of walking on eggshells just surviving, being with you gave his life meaning, and the idea of you being in danger for her impulsive actions unsettled him, he couldn’t lose you. Daryl sighed as he began to take his vest off, a fresh pair of clothes should be enough to remove the smell and fatigue from the night before.

“Hey, you’re back” your voice broke his thoughts. Daryl turned to you and his heart jumped. You were together for more than 6 months now and he still couldn't believe he was lucky enough to behold you like this.

“Msorry, didn't mean to wake ya, go back to sleep angel” he softly said.

You frowned, something was wrong. “What happened? Is everything ok?” you replied with a sweet tone in your voice.

He bit his bottom lip, staring at the window. “It’s Carol, she took one of em’ here, I, huh, helped her '' he wasn't certain why, but he felt ashamed as he spoke —“We will try to make him talk”.

Your mouth formed an “O” picking up on what troubled the archer. Alpha could take retaliation if she knew what happened. Shit.

“Come on baby” you softly said, raising your hand so he could take it. “We need to get you clean first”.

You led him to the bathroom. Unsure of what was happening he followed every step you made with the feeling of thousands butterflies in his stomach. The way his old shirt embraced every one of your curves barely covering your bottom made his heart race. He never thought getting a shower could be this exciting. Sitting on the sink, Daryl watched you unbutton his shirt very slowly, pecking at the skin revealed with every button that was undone. Soon, his broad chest was displayed and you smirked with satisfaction. Bringing your hands to his neck, you brushed his lips just a little and whispered “Let me take care of you, please”.

Daryl trembled, he didn't feel tired anymore.

Once you were satisfied with the temperature of the water, you took your robe off getting into the shower. Daryl couldn't help but stare as he got rid of his boxers, the sight of your naked body wasn't something he would ever get used to.

The hot water splashed against his ached body, making him gasp with delight. You chuckled at the action “I thought you didn't like showers, huh?” you teased him. “I like them with ya” Daryl sheepishly answered.

Your eyes traced his whole body searching for injuries that might need more than just some cleaning, to your relief, there wasn't anything new. Taking a sponge, you delicately started to wash his chest, paying extra attention to every one of his scars, caressing them gently, wishing they could disappear along with his pain, just like the soap with the water. Daryl’s eyes were glued to the action, feeling a warm sensation spreading over his broad frame, god, he loved you.

“I know you’re worried” he looked into your eyes, listening to your words closely, “But I need you to understand, whatever happens, I’m here for you, we can always fight together” You placed his hand on your left breast, “Do you feel it? My heart beating?” Daryl nodded, lost in the sensation of your soft skin against his rough hand.

You kissed him deeply, wanting to make him forget about the troubles of the world he always felt the need to carry on his shoulders. “I love you Daryl” you whispered between kisses. Daryl felt like crying, he wasn't used to this kind of burning, unconditional love. “I love ya too” Daryl managed to answer, unable to concentrate in anything else but the feeling of your lips on his, you were the only thing in his mind. Every fiber of his body was consumed in you. You, You, You.

Soon, the steam from the hot water wasn't the reason the bathroom was boiling, it was the way you both got lost into each other until you became one.

Daryl came out of the house with his hair dripping, Gabriel approached him as soon as he spotted him.

“Did you take a shower?!” he said with a hint of surprise in his voice “I thought we were going to check on that whisperer guy?”

Daryl remained stoic to the father's questions but he felt himself blushing, just when he was about to brush him off Aaron caught up with them.

“Hey! We were looking for you!” he exclaimed, pointing at Daryl — “You showered?!” Aaron’s eyes widened with disbelief and Daryl left a frustrated grunt.

“Can't take a damn shower or what?” Daryl growled as he walked away from the two men with a hidden grin on his face.

#daryl dixon x reader #fluff

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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PLEASE IVE BEEN WAITING MY ENTIRE LIFE (since I've known Madi) FOR THIS. It's so good I don't have the words to describe but it's literally just perfect. Thank you for being vulnerable enough to be a whore publicly. <3

No Rush

Plot: Daryl took his time with you.

Paring: Daryl Dixon x FemReader

Word Count:  950ish

Warnings: smut!! I shouldn’t even have to say this but minors DNI! you are NOT welcome here! fingering, oral (fem receiving), mentions of p in v, teasing, just porn without plot…

A/N: wow being a whore publicly. I guess it was overdue. blame this on @devnmon, @normanplusdaryl, and the rest of the discord for all the inspo (pics of daryl’s fingers) 🙄

this is my first (***solo… before haru comes for me…) smut ever… (but reposted bc tumblr tags) so pls be nice bc my stomach hurts <3

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He took his time. He always took his time.

“Please,” you panted.

Keep reading

#daryl dixon x reader #smut

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theteasetreads · 1 year

Text

Merciless Beauty

Part 1: Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mentions of blood/gore and violence ❧ Word Count: 5.3k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Duke Richard of House Grimes and his knight, Sir Daryl, arrive at King Ezekiel's court, though they do not know why they've been invited. Meanwhile, things are not well in the kingdom of Alexandria as a new threat begins to terrorize its citizens. Despite this, the princess dreams of seeing the world outside the castle walls by which she is imprisoned. She meets someone who she thinks might be able to help.

❧ A/N: Well, here it is. The first part of this weird ass thing I'm writing. I realize that this is super cringey but do I care? Well, a little, but you know what, I am having so much fun writing this and learning about medieval stuff so I am happy with it. I will link a "Before You Read..." page so that you guys can get a little more background info about what I'm trying to do here. I know this is kind of a weird AU and stuff so I have some disclaimers in that link. I've also included a link to the Merciless Beauty Glossary, which lists definitions for some of the terminology I will be using throughout the series. I recommend having that document open as you read as you can use it to quickly refer to in case you come across a word you are not familiar with.

Beyond gentle slopes of overgrown emerald pastures rose tall, imposing battlements of limestone, with tiny silhouettes of guards poking out of each crenel. From this distance, they looked hardly menacing, but the king’s guards were diligent, and their prowess in battle was not to be underestimated.

The duke raised the blue flag of Alexandria, signaling to the guards that they were no threat. In response, a guard reached over the wall to wave the same flag.

“They see us,” remarked the duke, pulling on the reins of his golden horse. “Here.” He handed back the worn piece of cerulean fabric to the knight who rode by his side. “Strange customs, but I don’t blame them.”

They moved upon their horses in a dignified trot, the knight’s ebony friesian stallion trained to mirror the movements of the steward’s palomino steed.

“They should be afraid,” said the knight. “The world is a dangerous place. Can’t believe they’ve held out this long.”

The duke flashed him a knowing look, that almost seemed to curl into an amused crack of the lips. “Sir Daryl,” he said, “I’ve always admired your optimism.”

The knight adjusted his feet in the heavy iron stirrups. He’d never quite get used to his lord’s jests. “Sorry,” he spoke simply. A man of few words, Richard always said.

“It’s all right, but you’d be advised to put on a cheerful face for the king. Joviality goes a long way with his type.”

“His type?”

“Unlike you, my friend, King Ezekiel is known for his… good humor.”

Daryl scoffed from the corner of his crooked smirk. “Thanks… What does the king want with you, anyway?”

Richard’s brows knit together in another amused expression of faux offense. “You think I’m not able to acquire a king’s favor? Careful, knight, you’re a free man now, but you could be downgraded to villein if necessary.”

Of course, the serious knight knew that such a threat was meant in good humor. Ten years of loyal servitude to the duke was more than enough reassurance.

The men continued onward, their horses plodding through moors that seemed to stretch on forever. The castle couldn’t come closer for Sir Daryl. He was dreading it, the pomp and circumstance of it all. But then, he knew that when he became a knight. It wasn’t the typical story, in fact. He wasn’t of any kind of good birth, his parents being poor and rather unsuccessful merchants in some other kingdom he’d purposefully forgotten the name of.

No, he wasn’t a nobleman’s son or a squire. He’d earned his title almost reluctantly, through his triumphs and battle prowess in the First War. That is, the war that preceded the Scourge.

A knight’s duty was to protect a lord, of course. He’d managed a position as the protector of Duke Richard’s land, just outside of Alexandria. In exchange for his protection, the knight had a place to live, and not a bad place at all. It was better than any decrepit wooden shack he’d lived in before, and, as far as nobility went, the duke was not a bad man. In fact, he was a good man, and that was hard to come by in times like these.

“But it’s odd,” Richard continued, “I don’t know what the king wants with me. I know he wants me to join his court, but I’ve heard he hasn’t invited anyone to court in ten years, since it broke out.” It, of course, was always understood as a reference to the plague that killed ordinary men with a gruesome fever, then brought them back as snarling, rotting walking dead men that feasted on the flesh of those who were unlucky enough to still be alive.

No one knew where it came from, but many thought the curse was nothing short of the wrath of God Himself. It was the only explanation in a world completely devoid of comfort. Though the idea that a supposedly benevolent god bestowing such a pestilence upon his so-called beloved children was hardly comforting. In these times, people took what they could get.

“Maybe he just wants your wonderful company,” Daryl replied, sure to speak with a sarcastic lilt to his gruff voice.

“No, no,” Richard said. “It doesn’t make sense. Ezekiel and I have only spoken a few times… You know, there’s a princess.”

Oh, yes, everyone knew of the princess, of course, though no one had seen her in years. The gatehouse of that castle hadn’t opened in ten years. No one had come in, and no one had gone out. Until now, of course.

“There’s always a princess,” Daryl huffed. “What does that have to do with anythin’?”

“Well, she’s got to be a woman now… I’m sure the king is looking to wed her to someone.”

Daryl flashed a suspicious glance at the curly-haired man, who returned the look with a steady shake of his head.

“You think he wants you to court her?”

“I don’t know, but if what they say is true, the princess is the most beautiful woman in Alexandria. Some say beyond Alexandria, too.”

It was odd for a man of Richard’s age and status to be unmarried. His wife had died six years ago in childbirth, along with the child. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it was a great tragedy in the duke’s life. The knight couldn’t see him remarrying at all after that, but if the king was going to offer his daughter to him, he would be a fool not to accept.

“Women with that kind of beauty are hard to come by,” continued Richard. “And royal, too. Hell, the princess is the king’s only child. That means… I could become king when he dies.”

“Gettin’ ahead of yourself,” chided Daryl. “We’re not even at the gatehouse yet.”

“Welcome, my friends!”

The king extended his arms wide, about as wide as the grin upon his countenance. He crossed the great hall, the steps of his pointed poulaines echoing off the grand high ceilings. The king’s hand clasped jovially upon the duke’s shoulder, but the gesture quickly turned into a hearty embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” said the king. “It’s been too long, Richard.”

“It has.”

The duke raised his eyes to gaze upon the magnificence of the hall. Though the exterior of the castle may have appeared quite imposing, the great hall was warm, welcoming, even. Elaborate arrangements of strong wooden arches upheld the roof, complete with intricately designed corbels to support them. Draped from the high stone walls were long blue banners bearing the royal family’s crest, no doubt made from the finest threads. Tapestries depicting mythical creatures and romantic scenes of knights going to battle or courting ladies were on full display, too. The hall was illuminated by the gilded light of what seemed to be a hundred or so candles, some upon sconces, others upon tables and in iron chain chandeliers. The pungent aroma of honey and elderflower tickled at the uninitiated noses of the two travelers, and, sure enough, in the king’s hand was a fine pewter goblet, which no doubt must’ve been brimming with a particularly pungent, sweet smelling mead.

“Come!” exclaimed the king. “Have a drink! This is cause for celebration.”

The loud bravado in the king’s voice must’ve alerted the court as finely dressed nobles began to pour in from the arches and the upstairs landing. As the duke and his knight followed the king to his banquet table, just in front of his imposing bronze throne, the court gathered in greater globs. Murmurs began to permeate the great hall, and the knight could just feel an army of eyes laid upon him and his lord. It wasn’t a feeling he reveled in.

“We’ve already had our feast,” said the king, sitting himself comfortably at the head of the long wooden table. “But I can have a servant bring you something. Only the finest dining here.”

“We’ve already eaten. Just a drink is fine for now, your majesty,” said the duke. As he sat, the loyal knight followed.

Daryl felt bear, having been made rid of his greatsword and his cloak by the guards at the entrance to the keep. There were few places outside of his home that he felt safe enough without either.

“Ah, libations!” exclaimed the emphatic king. He held his goblet high for emphasis. “This is the finest mead in Alexandria and her surrounding kingdoms. It comes from a monastery, I’ve been told. They raise bees there, isn’t that fantastic?”

The knight and the duke exchanged a glance. They had no idea what to make of the king. He was so full of merry, the likes of which they hadn’t seen in years. Perhaps it was the mead, but Richard knew the man was jovial. Still, it was a kind of shock.

The servants arrived with intricately detailed pewter pitchers full of the honey wine, filling their goblets to the brim. The excesses of wealth and royalty were foreign to the knight. Duke Richard was wealthy, yes, but not like this.

“So,” spoke the king, “I trust your journey through my kingdom was pleasant? No dead ones crossed your path?”

“Not at all,” said Richard. “Your kingdom is quite safe, it seems. Those tall walls will keep anything out.”

“Hm, yes,” agreed Ezekiel. “But you can never be too careful. No one’s left the castle in ten years, I’m sure you know. It’s better to be safe.”

That reminded the duke. He intended to ask why the king had invited him to court, but before he could speak again, the boisterous king looked to Sir Daryl with an enthusiastic curiosity.

“This is your knight?”

“Yes, this is Sir Daryl.”

The king settled back in his chair, stroking the gray corkscrew hairs upon his noble chin. “Ah, I’ve heard of your gallantry in battle, how you earned your title. My father knighted you, didn’t he?”

Daryl looked to his steward, wordlessly asking for permission to speak. Richard nodded. “Yes, your majesty,” spoke the knight. His voice was raspier than usual, having been silent for so long since arriving at the castle. After all, what could a knight possibly have to say? His only duty was to protect his lord, as a vassal. He was of lower rank than Richard, and, though he never much cared for the details of hierarchy, it was in his best interest to know his place.

“How grand! Well, gentlemen, I do hope you find this court to be a fount of merriment in these dark times.” He gestured to the surrounding great hall, and the people who watched with bated breath as they clung to the monarch’s every word. “Everyone has been so eager to meet you. This is a momentous occasion. A toast!” The king stood to his feet, raising his goblet high. Others followed suit, of course, as the two newcomers sat overwhelmed at the king’s table. “To Duke Richard and his knight, the first additions to court in a decade of strife.”

“Huzzah!”

With a long drink of his mead, the king met the duke with wide eyes, then removed the cup in a near panic, though it was a jolly panic. “I almost forgot! How could I forget? My daughter, (Y/N). Elizabeth! Fetch my daughter!”

“Yes, your majesty.” The mousy young maid with flaxen hair frantically ascended the staircase with great haste.

Richard straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. The knight could tell he was nervous, but he couldn’t understand why. A princess was hardly anything to be nervous about. It was the king the duke needed to impress, he thought.

“Minstrels!” the king exclaimed, gesturing towards the troupe of musicians across the great hall. There were three, each dressed in colorful garb and feathered caps. One held a lute, the other, a flute, and the third, a tambour. “Play something for the princess’s entrance. Something… delicate, but dignified, like her.”

“Yes, your majesty!” one of the minstrels replied.

Yes, your majesty, seemed a rather common phrase around here.

Then, from atop the stairs appeared a young woman.

You heard the musicians begin to play their little tune—a soft, simple tune that seemed to evolve with each step you took. Each step was calculated and precise, partly because that was how you were trained to walk, and partly because you were careful not to trip over your gown. Your father had instructed you to wear your best clothes the last few days, though you weren’t sure why. You’d heard of a duke coming to court, but it was hardly of any interest to you. Why should you care? Why should you welcome an outsider when you haven’t been able to leave this dusty old castle in years?

“That must be the duke,” whispered Margaret. She followed your every move, as a lady-in-waiting was supposed to.

“He’s handsome,” Michonne whispered back.

You shushed the ladies out of the corner of your mouth. They were much too excited for their own good, much more excited than you.

At the base of the staircase, your father held his hand out to you, beaming at your beauty. Tonight, you wore your favorite champagne-colored surcote, made from a heavy silk, with long, flowing sleeves that split at the elbow to reveal the pure white lace-front gown. The décolletage was modest, but deep enough to reveal just the beginning of your cleavage, formed by the tight lacing that held your chest in place. It wasn’t quite in vogue these days, but then again, nothing was in vogue these days.

As you took his hand, you realized that the duke and his knight were standing for you. Of course they were, but their new faces caught you off guard. You knew everyone in court so well, it was strange to see two strangers standing for you.

Your father lifted his hand, in turn raising your arm to show you off like a prized mare. With knitted brows and a quivering lip, you flashed him a confused expression. He’d never introduced you like this before, but then again, he never introduced you to anyone before.

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning his attention to the duke and his knight. “I present to you my daughter, (Y/N), Crown Princess of Alexandria.”

The men each bent over to bow before you, and you took in their appearance with great interest. It wasn’t often you had new faces to study.

The duke was well-dressed, wearing a damask scarlet doublet that must’ve cost a fortune, with tight-fitting wool hose to accentuate his lean legs. It would be remiss not to note how handsome he was, with a head of lush curls and a short, well-trimmed beard to frame his salmon-colored lips. If it weren’t for his title and his clothing, you could tell the man was a noble just by looking at the shape of his nose, aquiline and strong. Yes, he was handsome.

But just beyond his shoulder, your eyes were pulled like magnets to the knight. His clothes were more muted, but made from a fine material. A plain black wool tabard draped over his broad shoulders, his waist cinched with a fine leather belt, strapped to which was a lone misericorde, the dagger which you knew from your studies to be what knights used to deliver the final death blow to an enemy. The sharp tip sent a shiver down your spine as you wondered briefly if he’d ever had to use it.

Though his coloring was similar to the duke, both having hair of brown and eyes of blue, their similarities ended there. The knight had a much more tired face, world-weary. It was difficult to see clearly, given the shadows created by the long wavy locks of hair shrouding his visage, but he appeared to have a reddened scar trailing from his brow to his cheek, crossing over his left eye.

From what you could see, he looked nothing like any man you’d seen before. He was weather-worn and hardened by the world, at least, that’s how he looked. He must’ve seen such terrible things, you thought. In the fine lines of his face, you could begin to make out an image of the world outside. Here was a man who must’ve known its ins and outs like the back of his hand, must’ve been so brave to have survived this long outside the walls, fighting the Dead.

Though your face was softened by curiosity, the knight’s was stoic and cold. He seemed somehow both distant and alert, aware of his surroundings despite his reluctance to be surrounded by them. The duke’s kind face was much more welcoming, but, for a moment, you were held hostage by the knight’s narrowed, serious gaze.

“Your highness,” said the duke. “I am Duke Richard of House Grimes.” He turned to gesture towards the knight. “And this is my knight, Sir Daryl.”

A curious name for a curious face, you thought. Still, you tried to maintain your focus on the nobleman.

“It is an honor to meet you, milord,” you replied. “The court has been anticipating your arrival.” Though I haven’t. “Oh, these are my ladies-in-waiting, Lady Margaret and Lady Michonne.”

You brought the ladies forth, each of them curtseying before the duke. It gave you a moment to look upon the knight again.

“Pleasure,” the duke said to your ladies. “And… may I say, princess, you’re just as radiant as they say.”

You looked wide-eyed at the king, who smiled bigger than he had in years. The blush that blossomed upon your cheeks was not one of flattery, necessarily, but slight embarrassment. “Oh… They speak of me?”

“Yes. Common people often praise your beauty. Many would sell their land or their livestock for the chance just to get a glimpse of you. I must admit, it would be worth it.”

A whirlpool of emotions formed in your belly, mostly confusion. You’d never been complimented quite like this before. “Well… Thank you, milord. That’s very kind of you to say.” Swallowing hard, you turned to your father, who seemingly expected you to return with an equal compliment. “Father, I’m going to retire to my chambers for the evening.” You turned back to face the duke. “Goodnight, Richard. I hope your stay in court is pleasant.”

Your father’s smile faded with your announcement, but he nodded as he tried to offset his disappointment. “Of course, my dear. Goodnight.”

At length, you sat before your vanity to remove your jewels while Elizabeth prepared your bed as usual. She hummed to herself the same little tune the musicians had played earlier for your grand entrance to meet the duke. Removing your translucent veil, you got to work undoing the circles of elaborate braids and removing the genuine pearls laced throughout when a rapping came at the door of your chamber.

“My dear, it’s me,” said your father. “May I come in?”

Oh, for pity's sake.

You turned on your stool to gesture towards Elizabeth. “Let him in,” you said. “I can undress myself tonight. Goodnight, Beth.”

The young girl nodded before opening the door for the king. He thanked her as she left, while you straightened up to no doubt receive a tongue lashing for your less than friendly reception of the newcomers.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, sitting at the foot of your bed as he adjusted his gold trimmed velvet robe. “My dear… I must say I am a bit disappointed that you didn’t sit and speak with the duke tonight.”

“Well, father, I… It’s hard to be excited about these new guests when I myself haven’t been outside the castle since I was a girl. And now, all of a sudden, you’re letting in some nobleman and his knight? Why?”

To the king, it was obvious, but to you, it was totally unclear. There was much about the world you still didn’t know, and though you were knowledgeable, on account of your royal tutoring, you were still naïve in many ways.

Your father stood as he sighed, piecing a long, gray-black dread lock behind his ear. “Well, I was hoping…” He shook his head, then crossed over to you, taking your hands in his as he looked at you with that adventurous sparkle in his eyes. “You liked Richard, didn’t you? He was charming?”

You were caught off guard by the question, but you shrugged and nodded with a half-smile. “Why, yes. He’s charming.”

“And handsome?”

“Well… Of course. He’s very handsome, any woman would think so.”

“So…”

“Father, are you… trying to ask me if I want to court the duke?”

“Yes,” he laughed in relief that you caught on without him having to explain. “Richard is a good man, one of the best nobles left. He’s wealthy, too. Though I was always hoping for a political marriage for you, as long as the man is at least a noble and a suitable husband, I think this kind of match would be good for you. In fact, we could move Richard here, that way you never have to leave the castle, and—”

“Father!” you exclaimed, shocked by how excited he was at this idea without even hearing your thoughts, of which you had many. “I’m not ready to marry!”

“But you’re twenty-six, my dear.”

Standing to your feet, you shook your head and pulled out the remaining braids in your hair. “I’m just not ready. The duke is… He’s perfect, but I’m not interested. I can’t explain it, it’s just not a match.”

“But you’ve hardly spoken to him!”

You didn’t need to speak to him to know, you just knew. It was impossible to explain. All you knew was that it wouldn’t work, and that marriage was simply not in your near future. You had other priorities, other… curiosities. Love was not one of them, except in your fairytales and love poems. You had a hard time believing love could be any better than that.

“Father, please. I’ve told you how I felt, and I’m sorry if you brought this man here just for me, but I can’t force myself to try with someone who doesn’t interest me in that way.”

He crossed the room with a soft step, his face morphing into an understanding smile. “I know, darling. I’m sorry to have upset you. I would never force you into a marriage that didn’t please you, I just… I just want you to marry a good man. Well, so long as he’s a noble, at least.”

Your father was never a traditional king, but he still insisted on some things, and one of them was that you would marry well. Well meaning high status. Some things were sacred.

“But if the duke isn’t to your liking,” he continued, “I won’t force it.”

“Thank you, father. That means a great deal to me.”

“Good.” His hand cradled the back of your head to bring you forward, allowing him to bestow a fatherly kiss upon your forehead. “Someday, you will make a great queen. A better ruler than me, I am sure.”

“Father,” you laughed. “You are a great ruler. The people love you. Everyone loves you. That’s what matters.”

“My sweet girl,” he said, now holding your cheeks to admire your pretty, delicate features. You were truly a princess through and through. “You’re the most precious jewel in my crown.” An old phrase he’d said to you since you were a little girl. The man was so sentimental, a trait you admired greatly. “I bid you goodnight.”

As he headed back towards the door, you began to think freely, with your mind returning to the knight beside Richard. Daryl, you recalled his name. You’d never heard a name like that, nor seen a face like that.

“Father?” you called out to him just before he could leave.

“Yes, my dear?”

Looking down, you toyed with the fine silk fabric of your surcote, prefering to study the rich champagne color than to face your father as you asked, “Tell me about Richard’s knight.”

The king’s brows furrowed, his head tilting to the side in a display of curiosity and confusion. “The knight? Sir… Daryl, I believe?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, still nervously rubbing the garment between your fingers. To clarify, you lifted your gaze to your father. “Well, I mean… I was just curious. You know how I have a fascination with knights and things of that sort.”

The king shook his head with a warm, deep chuckle. “Oh, daughter. Well, I don’t know much of him, other than that he is brave, loyal… He was knighted by your grandfather, you know. Just a few years before he passed.”

“And he is of noble birth, like Richard?”

“No, no,” he replied. “Not at all. His parents were lower gentry. He earned his title in battle, a rare feat for a knight, as you know.”

Indeed, most knights were born to nobility, becoming pageboys before the age of ten, then promoting to squire in their youth. After years of studying under an established knight, the squire would then undergo the dubbing ceremony. He’d learn the code of chivalry, and he’d pledge allegiance to a lord, offering military services in exchange for a fief, or land. It seemed that Sir Daryl must’ve met many of these requirements, but he certainly wasn’t a noble.

“That’s quite interesting,” you said. “I knew he seemed different. Well, goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, my sweet.”

When the candlelight was extinguished, and the only sound left in the dead of night was that of the crickets chirping and the toads ribbeting, you were left in solitude with your thoughts. These thoughts were not new, of course. They were visions of the outside world, beyond the castle walls and the walls of the kingdom. They hung somewhere between consciousness and dream, but your thoughts were intentional, purposeful. You thought of the trees, the flowers, the little streams. You thought of the deer and the birds and the butterflies, every beautiful thing you hadn’t seen since the Scourge began. That plague had taken everything from you, your mother, your freedom, your peace of mind.

Others had it much worse, of course, and you knew that, but that didn’t ease your heartache. There were many nights you cried yourself to sleep, hoping your father couldn’t hear, for he did what he did for good reason—he was terrified of losing you, his only child.

But tonight, you didn’t cry at all. In fact, there was a strange sense of hope nestled in your heart, something you hadn’t felt in so many years. At first, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but as your head and your heart began to work together, you realized—it was the knight.

Not only was the knight a new addition to the court, but he was brave, a fighter. He would surely help you escape.

Escape was something you’d thought of before, but now, it seemed within reach. Of course, you wouldn’t leave forever, just a day. Just a day outside the walls, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the soft grass underfoot. There wasn’t anyone else. The guards all pledged such strong allegiance to the king, they would surely inform him of your plans if you asked. The others weren’t skilled in combat, couldn’t keep you safe. No, the only solution was the knight. He would help you. Surely, he would help you.

In your alone time, you often walked the corridors of the keep, as there wasn’t much else to do when you weren’t occupied by your books or your needlepoint. Today was no different, though the court was still excitable over the arrival of the duke last night.

You tried to ignore that, instead keeping yourself in your thoughts as you wandered aimlessly, until your father’s panicked voice resounded from inside his cabinet, adjacent to his bedchamber. What you made out were the words, “How could this happen?!”

Curiosity overcame you, your boredom having been relentless. You looked around the corridor for a moment, ensuring no passersby would see you. The guards were at the other end of the hall, facing away from you. If you were quiet, no one would see you pressing your ear to the ornate wooden door.

“Constable,” your father huffed, “are you quite sure?”

“Yes, your majesty,” spoke Lord Constable Aaron. “There have been reports of mysterious cloaked knights extorting citizens throughout the kingdom. They demand crops, livestock, women… They threaten murder if they don’t get their way, my liege. We had some isolated incidents in the past, but this past month, they’ve been happening more frequently.”

“And you didn’t think it of import to tell the king?” questioned Lord Chancellor Gerald. “There hasn’t been crime like this in Alexandria since we closed our gates.”

“I didn’t want to worry his majesty with incidents of petty crime,” responded the constable. “But now… Well, a boy has been killed.”

“What?!” your father exclaimed. “Who?”

“Thomas Webb, son of the innkeeper, James. He was only sixteen… I’ve been told it was…”

The constable trailed off, his voice becoming shaky as he spoke.

“Speak, Aaron,” demanded the king.

The constable cleared his throat, then lowered his voice. You pressed your ear harder against the wood of the door, so much so that you feared a splinter.

“Apologies, milord… It—it was a gruesome death, the likes of which we haven’t seen in Alexandria since the Dead breached our walls. But this wasn’t a dead man, it was a knight in black armor, their leader. We could hardly identify the boy, his head was… Well, your majesty, his head was obliterated.”

A small gasp escaped your lips, your hand quickly reaching up to catch it before it alerted the guards.

“By God,” uttered the chancellor. “What kind of knight are we dealing with?”

“A knight wouldn’t commit a crime like that,” spoke an at first unfamiliar voice, but you quickly identified it as that of the duke. “No, not any kind of true knight. A dishonored one, maybe.”

“It’s of no concern to me what this man’s status is,” said the king. “All I care about is protecting my people. Constable, I need strengthened security across the kingdom, especially in the merchant district. Something tells me these marauders are targeting the middle and lower classes. I also want tighter security at the outer curtain. No one should be entering or leaving the kingdom without my permission, and if they’re entering clandestinely, there must be a blind spot or a chink in our armor. If the living can get in, the Dead can, too. Get it sorted. There will be no more of this… obliterating in my kingdom, understand?”

“Absolutely, your majesty. We’ll double up our defenses. This won’t happen again… Oh, and… There is one more thing.”

“What is it?” asked the king. “I have very little time for idle conversation today, constable.”

“Yes, yes, of course, your majesty, but… Well, this is quite important. The knight in black armor left a message with one of our guards, just before he… chopped off his arm.”

Your lips trembled with fear. How could a man do such a thing? And this man was in your kingdom, hurting your people. It was horrifying. That poor guard, you thought. That poor boy… Oh, that poor, poor boy.

“Good lord!” huffed the king. “All right, what is it?”

The constable cleared his throat as you heard a crinkling of paper. “Your majesty,” the constable read from the letter, “let this be a first warning, an introduction of sorts. My name is Sir Negan of House Smith, my people are the Saviors. If you cooperate with me, there will be no more bloodshed, but if you go against me, I will plunder and pillage this pretty kingdom until the streets are soaked red. I ask, or demand, rather, for one thing: your daughter.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Part ➳

#am i allowed to reblog my own stuff #no but look #this is important #daryl dixon x reader

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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Even the moodboard is already iconic pls

All You Got | Masterlist

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader

Status: Ongoing; New part every Friday

Part 1: All You Got (coming Feb 10th)

Part 2: One Bullet

Part 3: The Desperate Type

Part 4: An Olive Branch

Part 5: Liar

Part 6: Time Heals All

Part 7: Wounded

Part 8: Proceed With Caution

Part 9: The Well of Hope

Part 10: One Last Hunt

Part 11: All I Got

Part 12: Remember

A/N: wow. I am so excited for this ✨ slow burn enemies to reluctant allies to friends to… well, you’ll just have to read it ;)

this is something I’ve been brainstorming for what feels like forever and im so happy to finally share it!!! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have. a big thank you to my dear friends @normanplusdaryl and @theteasetwrites for listening to me rant and being my betas. love u both so so so much.

warnings will be chapter specific, although generally, this series will contain; swearing; violence; descriptions of injury/blood; character death; and other general TWD content.

as for the posting schedule– I am going to try my best to be consistent with posting new parts every Friday, starting Feb 10th. HOWEVER, I am in my final semester of university, am working and interning, and try to have a social life too lol. there might be some weeks where i’m a day or two late, maybe even longer. feel free to send an ask to check on when later parts are coming, but please be patient & understanding <3

lastly, titles & number of parts are subject to change as I work through them.

thank u guys <3 mwah mwah mwah!

- madi

#daryl dixon x reader

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theteasetreads · 1 year

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Am I allowed to recommend my own fic?

The Wrinkle

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 9/10 Interim ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: very vaguely sexual if you squint (just some kissing and a butt grab) ❧ Word Count: 1.3k

❧ Summary: Aging is a natural part of life, but when you notice a wrinkle, it's hard not to be a little sad. Your husband, however, reminds you that you're still just as beautiful, and so is your wrinkle.

❧ A/N: Another oneshot that takes place in the same universe as my series because I am procrastinating writing the last chapters 😀 (but tbh this fic also works as a standalone piece because I didn't really reference anything that happens in the series). I just want to keep writing for them forever, you know? Anywho, I was inspired by all the anti-aging talk on social media I've been seeing lately. People have always been obsessed with looking young, and skincare companies often profit off that insecurity, which is something I've been thinking about a lot. I haven't seen anything where the Reader is a little insecure about her aging, so why not write a comfort fic about that?

Honey, olive oil, aloe, oats…

You’d tried everything, every natural ingredient you could get your hands on. Every moisturizer you made seemed to work on some level—your skin was always soft, at least. The dryness was quenched, and, most importantly, you were happy with your face, for perhaps the first time in your life.

Happy, until one night, you saw it.

“Oh, God,” you gasped, leaning over the bathroom sink as you rubbed in your moisturizer just the same way you did every night. Tonight, though, was different. By the light of the lantern you’d placed on the shelf beneath the mirror, you saw the smallest sliver of a… You couldn’t even bear to think of the word.

It was a line, near the outer corner of your eye. It curved downwards slightly, representing the movement of your cheek when you smiled. Only now, you weren’t smiling. You were frowning in disappointment at the image in the mirror. How could you be getting crow’s feet at this age? You were still young, weren’t you? Aren’t I?

“Everythin’ okay in there?” Daryl’s voice called out from the bedroom, just beyond the door. “Been in there a while, hon.”

“Fine.” Not fine. “Just moisturizing.” Lots of good it does.

“Well, hurry up, woman,” he teased. “I gotta take a piss.”

You scoffed, turning the copper knob of the door with a slippery, oily hand. “Come in,” you sighed. “I’m almost done anyway.” You turned back to face the mirror, dabbing another few fingertips worth of moisturizing cream.

He shook his head as he watched you meticulously massaging the concoction until it was completely absorbed by your skin. It was always a fascinating sight. He never understood it completely, but just as you allowed him to engage in his interests, he allowed you yours. Still, he couldn’t help but think sometimes you cared too much about looking pretty, when to him, you didn’t need to put any effort in at all.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, placing a rather drawn out kiss upon your shoulder, where the skin was exposed by your thin strapped nightie. His hand rubbed your other shoulder, taking his opportunity to feel how naturally soft you were, even without moisturizer.

You offered a reluctant smile as you looked back at him in the mirror. “Thank you… I don’t feel like it.”

Now that baffled him. You’d never been very confident in yourself, he knew that. You were alike in that way. It was tiresome for him, though. He knew your beauty better than anyone, and for you to not see it was heartbreaking. Then again, you felt the same way when he refused to accept his beauty. You were both much too humble for your own good.

Still behind you, he swept back a handful of your hair, revealing the supple flesh of your neck. “Why not?” he asked, then gave himself the pleasure of tasting your neck with his gentle, slightly ticklish lips. That always made you feel better. Usually.

“I—I… just found a wrinkle.”

Detaching his lips, he looked up at you to furrow his brow. As he searched your face, each curve and line so familiar to him, he couldn’t see anything had changed.

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout, girl?”

You reached over to turn up the flame in the lantern, brightening the small bathroom. “Look.” You pointed to the spot just at the corner of your eye. “A little wrinkle, right by my eye.”

Squinting didn’t help. He leaned forward, still trying to see what the hell you were so worried about. Finally, he pinpointed the vague, shallow line, almost more like a little shadow that stood on its own. It was hardly anything to him.

“Pfft,” he scoffed. “That ain’t a wrinkle.” He ran his hand through the hair on his scalp to pull back his bangs, putting his face completely on display for you. “You wanna see wrinkles? Looky here.”

Only Daryl could make you snort when you felt like feeling sorry for yourself. “Stop,” you laughed. “You hardly have any wrinkles. Besides, you’re older than me anyway. I’m only thirty-two.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And you got no damn wrinkles. Even if ya did, you’d still be a stone cold fox, so just believe me when I say you’re the most beautiful damn woman in the world, okay?”

Though you were sure you’d never believe that, it did feel terribly good to know Daryl still found you attractive. It was ingrained in you to want, to need, approval from men, and it took you a long time to get out of that mindset. Hell, it was still there to an extent, but Daryl was the only man whose approval you cared about now, only because you knew he’d never break your heart or take advantage of that trust you put in him.

“Daryl,” you laughed, your cheeks filled with a hot blush at his words. “Thank you, but—”

When his hands cupped your cheeks, his gaze softened, as if to make sure you knew what he was doing. Of course, you did. He kissed you, his lips enjoying the taste of your natural moisturizer. A small whimper from you melted into his mouth like candy on his tongue, while your arms tangled loosely around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

You always loved the feeling of his warm, strong hands upon your hips, gently squeezing the soft flesh there. He’d often lower his right hand, using it to squeeze your bottom, always making you squeak softly against his lips.

“Oh!” you laughed. He was so predictable. “Stop it!” You playfully slapped at his bare chest, with little to no strength in your flimsy hands. Because he knew you weren’t serious, he squeezed a little more, causing you to stand on your tippy toes and gasp a little more. If anyone could distract you from your little insecurities, it was Daryl.

His lips poked at every little spot of skin on your face, which was scrunched up in faux annoyance. Your laugh, and your wide, toothy grin, were proof enough that his wild, impromptu kisses and less than innocent bottom-squeezes were working like a charm.

“What am I gonna do with you, angel?” he asked, his lips becoming tired and his mouth beginning to downturn in a sudden expression of seriousness. His weather-worn fingers lifted your hair from your face, pinning it back behind your ears. There was an unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Only you knew the extent of his sensitivity, his ability to feel what you felt. When you told him that you don’t feel beautiful, it killed him. “What do I gotta do to make ya see how perfect you are?”

You sighed as you watched your own hands absentmindedly rub his broad shoulders, the smattering of freckles all over them always a comfort to you. Many nights you’d lay in his arms, just counting them as his low, gravelly voice lulled you into a deep, warm sleep.

“Just hold me,” you said. “That makes me feel beautiful, being close to you.”

That smile of his always melted you, had you like putty in his hands. It was small and a little lopsided, and you could only see a sliver of his wide, slightly jagged teeth, but it was like your life force. Seeing him smile, seeing him happy, for just one minute, meant everything to you. Of all people you’d ever met, he deserved, more than anyone, to be happy. That was your job.

“All right, pretty girl.” He pulled you close once again to press a small kiss to your forehead. “I’ll hold ya.” Just like he did every night. Still, you could never get enough of it.

“But first,” he added, letting go of you, “I gotta take a piss.”He was always so romantic.

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