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yetanotherhiddlestoner · 9 days ago

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You’re So Damn Loud (But I Like It)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader

Genre: Comfort / Banter / Fluffy fluff fluff / Innuendo / Crack (kinda?)

Warnings: eh, none I think?

Summary: You’ve had a long, disgusting, and draining day. Fortunately, you’ve got a man who’ll let you crawl into his lap and yap until your brain resets. Unfortunately, he refuses to shower with you.

Era: Alexandria

author's note: I've never written for fun before, let alone faniction, so this is kinda strange for me. This is what happens when you give me free time: it's like setting a prisoner free and not knowing what to do with their newfound freedom. It was either this or renew my gym membership so yeah. This oneshot is kinda crack, it's based on this idea by @dixondiseasedis, but I swear this keyboard has a mind of its own, and it kinda got away from me, but... enjoy?

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Daryl didn’t even look up when you walked in.

Didn’t need to. He could tell by the door slam, the stomp of your boots, and the long, theatrical groan that echoed off the cracked wooden walls — you’d had a day.

And he knew you were heading straight for him.

“Babe,” you huffed, already flinging off your boots. “I need to speak to the manager of this apocalypse.”

He glanced up just as you crossed the room, then plopped yourself sideways into his lap. One arm looped loosely around his neck. Your head rested against his shoulder, your legs draped across his thighs, sweaty feet dangling off the edge of the couch he was sitting in. You slumped against him like a bag of potatoes.

“Long day?” he drawled, already settling one hand on your hip and tucking your crazy hair behind your ear.

“I stepped on an eyeball.”

“…The hell?”

“A human eyeball,” you clarified, eyes boring into nothing as you relived the moment. “Just sittin’ there in the grass like it paid taxes. I swear it looked up at me. Made a little squish noise. I am not emotionally okay.”

He blinked slowly. “Sure, it wasn't a marble?”

“No, babe,” you said, dragging out the syllable like you were holding back tears. “It popped. Like a grape.”

Daryl grunted and leaned further back in the rickety chair, looking entirely unbothered as you started pulling at the zipper on your jacket. You were already fidgeting in his lap like a restless toddler, too keyed-up to sit still but too wrecked to do anything else.

“And then, Maggie was like, ‘Did you double-check the inventory?’ and I said, ‘Yeah, babe, I did. With my eyes. You know, the ones that didn’t end up under my boot today.’” You flung your jacket halfway off before flopping limp.

Without a word, Daryl tugged the sleeves down your arms and tossed the jacket behind him. His hands didn’t leave you after that — they slid easily up your back, settling against your skin like gravity.

You kept going.

“And Eugene—oh my God — Eugene decided to walk the entire route behind me, talking about how body odour is a natural bonding mechanism for survival groups. Like, okay, Dr. Pheromone, but some of us are actively trying not to die of nasal assault. I wanted to cut his god damn tongue out when he started spiffing about natural aphrodisiacs — oh lord.”

Daryl let out a low chuckle when you pretended to throw up at the very thought, his fingers absently drawing slow circles on your hip.

“I smell worse than three-day-old roadkill,” you moaned. “Like if hot garbage married a sewer and then gave birth to me. My shirt is a war crime. It’s glued to me. I think it fused with my skin.”

He reached for the hem as you raised your arms weakly. He peeled it off slowly, not in a sexy way — just steady, methodical, like he was unwrapping something gifted to him. Once it was off, he tossed it on top of your jacket and resumed his soft touches, thumbs brushing up your bare sides.

“I’m surprised you can even be within a 5-mile radius of me,” you scoffed, looking at him as his eyes traced your body, absently looking for any sign of injury.

“You’re dramatic as hell,” he murmured.

That got your attention. Eyebrows knitting together, “Says the man who growled at a raccoon last week because it looked at you funny.”

“Didn’t growl, and it did look at me funny.”

“It was a raccoon, babe,” you shot back quickly, cupping his cheeks like you were about to tell him the secret of the universe; “raccoons look funny.”

He shrugged. “It had attitude.”

You grinned and slouched against him. One of his hands stayed pressed to your thigh, the other trailing up and down your bare back, occasionally tripping over your bra strap. His eyes were half-lidded now, watching your mouth even when you weren’t speaking, like he already missed the sound.

You felt yourself soften a little. Guilt tugged at your chest.

“…Sorry,” you said quietly, brushing your nose against his jaw. “I’ve been yappin’ non-stop.”

He grunted. That meant “I don't mind.”

“Didn’t even ask about your day,” you quirked, straightening up to meet his gaze. “What’d you get up to?”

He moved his hand up and scratched his jaw. Tied down some fencing. Walked the perimeter with Rick. Checked the creek. Situation.”

You blinked. “The creek situation, huh? Now that sounds dramatic.”

He shrugged. “Rick thinks it’s dryin’ up too fast.”

You squinted. “It serious?”

“Dunno. Maybe.”

You paused. Then dropped your voice two octaves and said,

“Corl. The fish are gone. All that’s left… is us.”

Daryl blinked.

“…That supposed to be Rick?”

You nodded solemnly.

“We do what we have to, son. We protect the ones we love. We check the creeks.”

Daryl groaned quietly, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“There ain’t no rules anymore. We’re lost.”

He gave your side a warning squeeze, which he knew would cause you to squeal. “You’re so damn loud.”

You smiled — slow, smug, satisfied — and leaned in so close your nose brushed his.

“Thought you liked me loud,” you said softly. “I mean… that’s what you said last night, wasn’t it?”

Daryl blinked at you. Slowly.

His mouth parted — maybe to deny it, maybe to smirk, maybe to say something mean with heart eyes behind it — but he never got the chance.

You beat him to it.

“You get real talkative when you’re thinking with your downstairs brain,” you added innocently, draping yourself over him while tilting your head slightly like puppies do.

Daryl sputtered. “You— You need to shut that damn mouth—”

You grinned and slotted yourself to now straddle his lap so your lips were centimetres away. “What’s wrong, baby? I thought you liked my mouth.”

He grunted and shook his head, growing even more flustered — and yet, somehow, his hand slid gently up your spine, smoothing over the knots in your muscles without being asked.

You exhaled, content. For the first time in hours, your brain actually stopped buzzing. Daryl had that effect on you when he leaned his head to your shoulders, which visibly relaxed as he traced his lips along your skin. But then the smell hit you.

“…God,” you groaned suddenly. “I reek.”

“You said that already,” he mumbled into your hair.

“No, like— I’m used to it now. That’s the problem. This is how it ends, isn’t it? I become the one with the stink.”

Your body tensed all of a sudden, which caused Daryl to cease his trail of kisses along your collarbone and lift his head up to you. “Oh my god… I’ve turned into you,” you said, adding a tremble in your voice for dramatic effect. Daryl scoffed, muttering something about a painful sensation in his ass.

“I’m takin’ a shower,” you announced. “Before my pores give up.”

Daryl grunted faintly in acknowledgement. You didn’t move. Instead, you moved your face even closer to his again, eyes narrowing like a cat about to pounce.

“…Wanna come?” you whispered

He blinked. Then blinked again.

“With me… I mean,” you added innocently, batting your eyelashes. “In the shower?”

You could see his brain weighing the outcomes. Showering with you had the downside of... washing.

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“I ain’t gettin’ in no damn shower.”

“Why not?” You whined

He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t need it.”

“Baby, there are possums that smell better than you right now.”

“Don’t smell that bad.”

“You smell like mildew, gangrene, and whatever died under the porch last week.”

He shrugged. “Keep runnin' ya mouth all ya want. Ain’t washing.”

You scoffed. “Daryl, I love you, but this is a health hazard. You’re out here smelling like a taxidermy project gone wrong.”

“I rinsed yesterday.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “You rinsed in a swamp.”

“So? It was a nice swamp.”

“Ooohh yeah, the nicest. With frogs and all.”

“Frogs weren’t doin’ nothin’.”

You stared at him. He stared back.

Then you stood fast and grabbed his wrist with both hands, yanking like a gremlin with a cause. He didn’t budge.

“C’monnnn,” you whined, using your bodyweight to lean back and tug at his arm, which only served to give him a Chinese burn. “You will shower with me, swamp creature; if it’s the last god damn thing you do,” you groaned, struggling to talk as you struggled to pull him off the chair.

“Nope.”

“You smell like a haunted sock,” you shouted. Maybe with enough bullying, you could shame him into coming to shower with you.

“I’m sittin’ down, woman, leave me be.”

“You are going to shower.”

“I’ll shower when I’m good n’ ready.”

You gave an exaggerated sigh and turned, walking backward and cracking your neck, gearing up for the battle of your life. “Alright then. Guess I’ll just have to drag your filthy stale ass in by the belt loops. That what you want? Huh, Dixon? Want me to manhandle you and make you look like a fool huh? ‘Cause I will and you know it! Don’t matter you’re the size of a house, I’ll take you down in right now in my damn underwear and I won’t even break a sweat!”

He tilted his head and eyed you like you were some sort of creature. “You’re crazy.”

He still didn’t move. So you marched back over, grabbed his belt, and yanked again.

This time, he rose — not dramatically. Not reluctantly. Just like a man who’d never stood a chance in the first place.

He knew you wouldn’t let up, so he figured he’d save you the trouble of hauling his ass to the bathroom.

Boots thudded against the floor. His shoulder bumped yours. He muttered something under his breath about water pressure and shampoo that “smells like fruit.”

“You better not try anything weird in there,” he grumbled as you pulled him down the hallway, your fingers looped stubbornly around his.

You looked, still walking backwards, with that familiar devil-grin.

“Oh please,” you said, tugging him gently toward the bathroom, “you already let me drag your swampy ass here. You’re past the point of no return.”

He shook his head but followed, boots heavy against the floor, his hand tightening around yours like it had a mind of its own.

After undressing, you moved into the shower and flicked on the water, warm mist beginning to fog up the cracked mirror. The silence stretched just long enough to feel it.

“Don’t know why you acted like you weren’t gonna join me,” you said finally, voice low, teasing. Your back was to him now, hands fussing with the water temperature as you stood there. “We both know how things go when I've had a long day.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just admired you unabashidly from where he stood, eyes lingering on your naked form.

Then his voice came loud, rough and amused behind you:

“Yeah… I figured if I didn’t come in here with you, you’d end up yapping to the shampoo bottles’.”

************************************************************************************************************************************************If this isnt dogshit please reblog - i have never posted on tumblr before i don't really know what I am doing lol.

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