#Daryl x reader

[xmiaacxio]

twd s2 aesthetic..

[zomquette]

Game's Night

Pairing: Dary Dixon x Redaer

Summary:

In Alexandria, bedtime gets competitive when thin walls and loud neighbors spark a challenge Daryl and his partner can’t resist. What begins as playful banter turns into a full-blown, no-holds-barred contest for the title of Loudest Couple in the Safe Zone. Between aching muscles, smug remarks, and Dog’s betrayed groans, one thing’s clear by morning: the scoreboard isn’t even close.

Genre: Fluffy fluff fluff / established relationship / Daryl and reader bantering like an old married couple / eventual smut.

Warnings:

Explicit sexual content (18+), graphic smut, light dominance, praise kink?, playful sexual teasing, strong language, domestic fluff, aftercare?, mention of other characters’ sexual activity, minor injury (Daryl’s shoulder), Dog is unfortunately present but emotionally resilient.

Era: post Saviour's War, pre-bridge 

Author's note: Based on this idea by @dixondisease. Never written smut before but i've definetly read enough to like know what I am doing or at least i think i do anyway. This turned out to be wayy longer than i intented - i even had to put it in the smaller font hehe - so good luck finishing 💀. And before anyone bitches i know Dog isnt technically born yet but i wanted dog in this so shove it 🤭. This is just smut and fluff, very shameless. Enjoy 🙈

You closed the bathroom door with your hip, freshly brushed teeth still tingling, one hand dragging through your damp hair, the other tugging an oversized shirt down over your thighs. “You better not be getting crumbs in the bed again,” you mumbled through leftover toothpaste, the minty foam threatening to escape the corner of your mouth.

“Weren’t me,” Daryl called from the bed, already half-lounging, shirt open, one sock hanging on for dear life. He winced as he twisted to rub his shoulder.

You caught the motion immediately. “Mmm. Blame the dog all you want, but you were the one housing Carol’s cookies like you were in a hostage situation.”

He gave a soft, amused snort. “Least I ain’t the one leavin’ bobby pins in the sheets. Thought I got stabbed in the back last night.”

“Sounds like karma,” you said sweetly, coming to stand over him. “Karma for banning Dog from the bed when he’s clearly my emotional support animal.”

Dog, curled at the foot of the bed, lifted his head at his name and thumped his tail like he knew exactly which side he was on.

Daryl gave him a look. “He’s half a damn mattress. You’re the one always sayin’ you got no room.”

You crouched beside the bed, rummaging through a worn canvas bag until you found the tin Carol gave you. “Yeah, well, between him hogging the the bed and you flailing around like you’re in a bar fight with your dreams, it’s a miracle I get any sleep.”

You straightened and held the salve up. “And don’t even try that ‘I’m fine’ crap. I saw you breaking a sweat brushing your teeth earlier. Shirt off. Now.”

Daryl blinked at you. “Is this part where I get lucky, or the part where you put me in traction?”

“Both, if you play your cards right.”

He huffed and peeled the shirt off slowly. You stepped in and helped him when he winced, hands gentle but firm. The bruise was nasty, blooming purple over his shoulder.

You climbed up behind him on the bed, legs crossed, and dipped your fingers into the salve. The minty scent hit your nose first, sharp and clean. You worked it into the sore muscle, slow and steady. Daryl hissed, eyes slipping shut. “Told ya. Baby,” you teased.

“mkay this ain’t half bad”, he groaned, enjoying your touch.

You snorted. “That's right? Gonna start fake injuries now?”

He cracked one eye open. “Not if it means more of your talkin’.”

You softened, brushing your fingers gently over the angry bruise. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Only like me now?”

“I’m reserving love for when you stop dragging half the forest into the house with your boots.”

“That was one time. And it was your damn dog.”

“Blame the baby. Classic deflection.”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple as you finished rubbing in the salve. “There. all better. Now maybe you’ll stop sighin’ every time you roll over like you just filed taxes.”

“I don’t sigh,” he muttered.

"You do. Like a single father of two, workin’ double shifts.”

That got his attention. He turned toward you, as gracefully as his bum shoulder allowed, and gave you a flat look. “What?”

He glanced down at your stomach and back up at you again. “You got somethin’ to tell me?”

“…Oh right, yeah. I totally forgot to mention that I’m pregnant with twins and planning on leaving you for a guy who runs a gas station so you can raise little Daisy and Cameron in a shack by the river. Surprise.”

He squinted at you, deadpan. “The hell is wrong with you… A gas station?”

“Real fancy too. Slushie machine and everything.” 

He tried to give you his signature scowl but couldnt help  cracking a smile “Jesus woman-“

You raised an accusatory finger, ready to burst out laughing, “Wait, wait, hold up, you actually believed me there for a sec, didn't you?”

He huffed and reached to wipe your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Yeah, well… you got toothpaste on your face, smartass. Ye done runnin’ yur mouth now? M’ tired.”

“Get in before Dog steals your spot.”

Daryl groaned as he eased under the covers, joints popping like bubble wrap. “If I throw my back out tryin’ to lie down, it’s your fault,” he muttered, pointing a finger at Dog who’d circled the bed twice and then parked himself at the very edge—smug, territorial, already snoring.

“You hear that?” Daryl told him. “No respect. Not from either of ya.”

“I respect you just fine,” you said, settling in beside him. “But only one of you farts under the covers.”

“Alrigh’, stop. Don’t gotta put up with this shit in ma own bed.”

You giggled. The room went still, soft and sleepy. He pulled you into him, arm curling tight around your waist, his nose brushing the curve of your neck.

“Better?”

“Much,” he murmured.

Perfect. Until the ceiling creaked. Loud.

You both froze.

Another noise followed. Rhythmic. Familiar.

“…Is that Michonne?” you whispered.

“And Rick,” Daryl muttered, glaring at the ceiling.

You blinked. “They are not—”

“Oh, they are.”

A beat of silence.

Then you grinned. “Wanna be louder?”

He groaned. “We’re not doin’ that.”

“Why?’ you teased, tuning your body to face him and leaning on your elbows to hover your face over his. “Scared you’ll lose?”

“I ain’t racin’ Rick.” He paused, deadpan. “Man sounds like he’s wrestlin’ a hog.”

You choked on a laugh. “Then prove it.” Oh god, he thought. You already had your crazy sex eyes on.

“You really wanna start that righ’ now?”

“Only if you’re gonna finish it.” You moved on top of him, straddling his torso, trying to read his expression for any sign of dismissal. You didn't find any. His hands flew to your waist like a reflex.

“You’re a damn menace.”

“And you’re stalling,” you hushed, brushing your lips against his

“Ain’t gonna be no damn competition,” he muttered. “Ain’t even gonna be close.”

Then his mouth was on yours.

It was the kind of kiss that knocked thoughts loose—hungry, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth. You didn’t remember moving, didn’t realise your hips were grinding down on him until you felt the solid heat under you and his fingers dug into your waist.

“Jesus,” he groaned, voice ragged against your lips. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

You didn’t answer—just kissed him harder, messier, hands sliding up his chest to push him further into the mattress. He didn’t resist. He wouldn’t dare. Not with the way you were moving like you’d catch fire if you stopped.

His grip tightened as he bucked up against you, mouth dragging hot down your jaw. “Ain’t even been a minute and you’re already—”

“Yeah?” you gasped, rocking down with more purpose now, chasing friction. “You got a problem with that?”

“Hell no,” he growled, sliding one hand up under your shirt. “Just tryna keep up, woman—”

“Good,” you breathed, grinding harder now, needing more. “Then don’t fall behind.”

And just like that, the game was on.

He sat up to be parallel with you. His hands moved along your bare back from under your shirt, all while you moved deliciously against his crotch, your faces pressed together, lips moving in sync, and tongues crashing like tidal waves. You couldn't help but moan into his mouth pathetically. 

He moved to take off his your shirt, and in one swift, powerful motion, he tore the flannel open, sending the buttons flying. Like a drowning man, he latched onto your bare chest as if it were his sole air supply.

“Christ Daryl…” you breathed, tilting back, enjoying the feeling of his hot mouth on your breasts. Well, more specifically, your rock-hard nipples. He leaned into his sloppy kisses, lowering you to your back while he climbed on top of you. Gradually, he moved lower and lower down your abdomen, making you so dizzy that the banging of the headboard upstairs was indistinguishable from your racing heart. Before you knew it, your underwear was gone, and its place was Daryl’s hand. Needless to say, you much preferred his hand there instead of your underwear.

His he moved up to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers rubbing your clit. Was this what hypnosis was like? He could tell you to do damn near anything and you would bark yes if it meant he wouldnt stop. 

Your body had a mind of its own, grinding against his hand as you clawed at his boxers.

The short gruffs and ragged breathing in your ear sent electricity down your body and straight to where Daryl was apparently trying to summon a genie. You felt the heat pool there as the butterflies in your stomach failed to settle. It only made you even wetter. If you weren't so mind-numbingly turned on right now, you would shield yourself from the embarrassment that down there was like a Slip n’ Slide.

  “You done makin’ a mess or you gonna keep humpin’ my hand like your tryna start a fire?” 

Ugh, smug douchebag. You can practially see the stupid cocky face he has on now. It took a few tries, the breathe kept logdng in your throat as whimpers escaped your mouth, until you finally retorted. “oh screw you asshole.”

“Asshole, huh? Must be doin’ somethin’ right.” That earned a frustrated groan from you. Right now, you are sitting between cloud nine and hell with this teasing. You shoved his boxers down and wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in his place. “Either you fuck me now or im going upstairs to join Rick and Michonne.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Lining himself up, he plunged into you without any warning. You couldn't breathe. Your body went limp with the feeling of him. You gasped for air as your body drank him in. God, he felt like he was up in your stomach.

“shit baby…” he groaned. It took everything in him not to completely lose it a drill into you right there, but he knew you needed a second to get used to the stretching feeling. 

“Daryl…. “ you squealed a moment later. Oblivious to him, if he didnt move within the next 5 seconds you woud just about combust. “please move”

It was practically spoken as a cry, your face scrunching up in need. He pressed his mouth to yours not a second later while he did what you asked, setting a steady pace, one that had you clawing at his back, his ass, his arms, hell, anything to ground you in the overwhelming pleasure he was spoon feeding you with a ladle. But you needed more. He needed to pick up the pace like you both wanted him to, or else you really were going to impale him with bobby pins.

“Ain’t even gonna be close,’ huh?” you bit out, breathless and flushed.  “Then why the hell are we still playin’?”

Daryl just smirked, hand dragging slowly over the curve of your hip like he had all the time in the world. “‘Cause I like hearin’ you talk tough,” he rasped. “Makes it real sweet when I shut you up.”

“You talk big, Dixon,” you growled, rocking down against him. “Now back it up.”

His hands flexed around your hip, yanking, moving you down to meet his thrust, causing you to yelp at the sensation. “You sure?” he murmured, eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark and hot. “‘Cause once I start, ain’t lettin’ you off easy.”

You glared, chest heaving. “Good. I don’t want easy.”

That did it. He moved his hand to your thigh and stretched it up to hook with his (good) shoulder, so you were completely sandwiched under him. The taster for what’s to come was one long, deep drag of his hips, which just about made your brain short-circuit. He chuckled at the fucked-out look on your face, “That mouth of yours’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“You promise?” you whispered, nails digging into his back. It didn't even sound like you when you said it, and yet you meant it. 

He huffed a laugh against your throat. “You’re about to wish I was still stallin’.” 

His hips began to pound into you, making you bounce with each unforgiving thrust. Your hair would be just short of a birds nest in the morning but all you could think about was daryls dick smacking into your pussy and making you feel like you had taken every recreational drug known to man.

“Fuck! Yes baby! Ohhh-“ The only way you could match the screams of pleasure that were coming from you was because after that, Daryl started muttering words of praise into your ears about how loud you were being. That’s great, buddy, just keep doing your thing, and ill gladly show this community the set of lungs I have on me.

The power with which he moved in and out of you, of course, had the headboard slamming against the wall so hard that Drayl would probably need to find some drywall tomorrow. The gross noises that your bodies made when joining together would have sounded like angels singing to you if it weren't for the noise of the headboard drowning it out… or your moans.

He dipped his head low, lips brushing your ear as your moan spilt out sharp and shameless.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, voice thick with approval. “Let ‘em hear it, baby. Let ‘em know who’s really winnin’ this little contest.”

 You clenched around him. God, you were so not gonna last. You would have cringed from embarrassment, but all of your dignity had vacated your body when you started squirming like a fish out of water.

Daryl let out a groan in response, peering down at your chest to see your breast jiggle up and down from his movements. “Atta girl. Let 'em know who’s giving it to ye this good.”

 You’d be lying if his words didn’t turn into mush, but who were you to take this lying down? 

“Maybe I’m just fakin’ it so i dont hurt your ego—oh, GOD— Daryl right there!”

He delivered a particularly brutal thrust to the spot he knew would send you over the edge. His pace was relentless, like he fucking hated you.  But that was far from the truth. The waves of pleasure he was single-handedly serving you said I love you better than any Valentine's note you had ever received in your opinion. The fricton between his pubic bone and your clit while he jammed himself into you repeatedly was a nice touch - to put it mildly.

“shit, shit, shit, baby your gonna make cum-“ it was so hard to speak full coherent sentences when he fucked you like this. The air from your lungs kept getting ejected every time he pounded into your cunt.

“That right?” Shit, you thought, he's using that voice he does when he speaks to judith. I'm done for. “Gonna come round this cock? Go ahead, baby, I gotcha”

“Ohhh fuck baby im cumming im cumming I’m- AH!”

Everything went white as every nerve in your body contorted with pleasure. It spread like a Mexican wave, starting from your lower abdomen and travelling all the way to your toes. The only thing reminding you that you hadn’t died and gone to heaven was Daryl’s erratic thrusts, which didn't falter; if anything, they sped up if that was even possible. He was chasing his own high. There were many things that turned you on in the world, but this was at the top of that list. Him going feral, using your body to guide him over the egde, hips stuttering and dick twitching inside of you. God, this was top-quality fuel for wet dreams.

He let out a few strangled moans before he came inside you, the feeling of him spilling inside of you made you grin with content, sighing like you were on a spa retreat. Except this retreat wasnt so much relaxing as it it was fucking mindblowing and would definitly reult in you walking funny.

His movements slowed, now just a soft rolling of his hips. You didn't want this to end. You wanted to stay like this forever. You were still breathless beneath him, and your heart was trying to remember how to beat in a rhythm that wasn’t wild. The weight of his body anchored you in place like gravity had finally done its job right.

Daryl was sprawled over you, chest heaving, forearm braced beside your head, trying not to crush you with the full weight of him, not that you minded. His skin was flushed and slick against yours, sweat cooling in the hollow between your breasts where his lips had been minutes ago.

He shifted slightly, lifting his head to look at you. Your skin was dewy, and you sported that after-sex glow that drove Daryl crazy. His hair hung down in damp, dishevelled strands, clinging to his temples. His eyes were heavy-lidded but alert, scanning your face.

“…You okay?” he asked, voice rough and warm, moving your hair from your face.

You couldn’t quite speak yet, so you gave a nod and a dopey smile. “Legs are noodles. Brain’s soup. So yeah. M’ great.”

That earned you the tiniest smirk, soft and crooked. “Good.”

His nose brushed yours before he leaned in to kiss you, slow and sweet this time. Nothing rushed. No competition. Just him, kissing you like he had all the time in the world. You melted into the kiss, humming contentedly, arms looping around his neck as he hugged you impossibly closer like you could disappear any second.

And above you, the ceiling had gone still. No more creaks. No more rhythmic thuds. No more Rick and Michonne ‘wrestling’ as they liked to call it.

You pulled back from the kiss with a dazed laugh. “Oh my god. They’re quiet now.”

Daryl blinked, then turned his head lazily to glare up at the ceiling like it had betrayed him. “Told ya. Ain’t even a contest.”

You giggled beneath him, threading your fingers through his hair. “Bet they heard us and got embarrassed.”

He huffed and rolled over you slowly, careful of your limbs as he settled at your side, immediately pulling you with him so you were nuzzled into his chest. You let him, splaying over him like it was instinct. His body was warm and solid and safe, the aftershocks of everything still tingling across your skin.

“I think I died for a minute,” you mumbled into his collarbone.

He chuckled against your hair. “Nah. Just blacked out. You’ll live.”

You swatted at him weakly. “Don’t be smug.”

“Too late,” he drawled. Then, quieter, brushing a thumb along your hip: “You’re real loud when you want somethin’.”

You grinned against his skin, your cheeks still flushed. “So are you.”

There was a moment of silence before you added, “Kinda proud of us.”

Daryl raised a brow. “Think we scared ‘em off?”

“Hell yeah, we did.”

You raised your arm in the air to gesture a fistbump, which he chuckled at, but nonetheless accepted. “Atta girl.”

You let out a happy sigh, his hand settling on your back again, moving slowly. Comforting. Claiming. Gentle in a way that made your heart grow a little.

From somewhere at the foot of the bed, Dog gave a low groan — the kind that sounded both scandalised and mildly betrayed.

You lifted your head, breath still uneven. “Oh Jesus, Dog, I’m so sorry—”

He was glaring. Or as much as a dog could glare. Ears flat, eyes narrowed, the judgment rolling off him in waves.

Daryl glanced down at him and snorted. “Don’t give me that look. You knew what this was.”

You buried your face in Daryl’s shoulder, laughing. “He’s mad ‘cause he’s not the favourite anymore.”

Daryl scoffed. “Was I even the favourite to begin with?”

You hummed, still grinning. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re both my good boys.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow, his voice low and smug. “Only one of us had you seein’ stars.”

You pulled back just far enough to give him a look. “Only one of you drools in his sleep.”

Daryl blinked, then smirked. “Says the woman who talks in her sleep.”

Your mouth dropped open in mock horror. “I do not.”

He shrugged, smug. “ I got woken up last week by you mutterin’ somethin’ about a peanut butter apocalypse.”

You chuckled, and Dog, ever the drama queen, flopped down with a heavy sigh, clearly done with both of you.

Daryl brushed your damp hair from your cheek, his thumb lingering at your jaw. “You alright?” he asked softly.

“Mhmm.” You leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time. “Better than alright.”

_______________________________________________________________

You sat at the table like someone recovering from a war injury. Every muscle in your body ached — wonderfully so, but they still hurt like a bitch — and breakfast was the last thing on your mind. Beside you, Daryl was the picture of serenity, casually sipping coffee like he hadn’t just destroyed your back six hours ago.

Rick gave you both a look. The kind that said he’d rather be literally anywhere else. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, poking at his eggs like they’d betrayed him. “Y’all don’t even try to be subtle, do you?”

“Didn’t know we had an audience,” Daryl said, not looking up from his mug.

Michonne arched a brow, clearly amused. “You didn’t need one. The walls are thin, Dixon. Thin.”

You winced and nursed your coffee like it could fix your dignity. You gave Daryl a knowing look and smirked, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t apologise,” Michonne said, smirking. “Just… damn.”

Rick looked between the two of you again, brow furrowed. “That wasn’t a competition, right? Like — there was no actual scoreboard?”

You glanced sideways at Daryl, trying to hide your grin. “What do you think?”

Daryl gave a faint smirk, eyes fixed on his plate. “Told you it wasn’t gonna be close.”

God damn, you could go for round 5 right here on thid counter.

Rick groaned. “Oh, come on.”

Michonne laughed into her coffee. “That’s it. I’m sleeping on the couch from now on.”

From the hallway, Carl appeared, bleary-eyed and deeply unimpressed. “Why are you guys being weird?” he asked, grabbing a slice of toast.

Rick straightened. “We’re just having breakfast. Sit down.”

Carl shook his head. “Not today. Not when the house sounds like a zoo at night. I’m taking this to my room. And since when did we bring back rules from the old world?”

He walked off without waiting for a reply.

You, Daryl, Rick and Michonne all burst out laughing.

You leaned into Daryl’s shoulder and murmured just loud enough for him to hear, “Guess we won the gold, huh?”

He didn’t answer — just rested his hand on your thigh under the table and squeezed, smug as hell.

[kaayyyys]

he's so cute when he's goofy

[holdmytesseract]

Guardian Angel

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When Pamela Milton makes the big mistake to threaten Daryl and his family, the archer isn't afraid of protecting what's his - at all costs.

Warnings: usual TWD stuff, violence, blood, choking, injuries, threatening a baby, attempted murder & murder, mentions of birthing a baby, protective dad!Daryl, fluff & babies!

Set in Season 11!

Word Count: 3,4k

a/n: I wrote this for @dixonsstinkysock , 'cause she was so excited about dad!Daryl, hehe. Thank you for the inspiration! I LOVED writing this! Hope you like it, too.

Disclaimer: Some words of the interaction between Carol and Daryl aren't mine. I just used them to fit the plot.

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

A father... He got blessed with becoming a father. Never ever - not even in his wildest dreams would've Daryl thought that the end of the world was going to bring this his way. Never. And yet here he was. It was incredible and borderline unbelievable. The archer would've scoffed and laughed into everybody's face who told him that in the beginning of this shit show.

Daryl buttoned up the fresh black grayish shirt he was just forced to slip into. Kudos to the tiny bundle of joy who had gotten to see the light of the world only a mere week ago and decided to 'burp' milk all over his shoulder. Daryl forgot to use a burp cloth; still adjusting to this whole new situation.

He couldn't help but smile to himself, as deft fingers worked the buttons.

The archer's heart was close to exploding with all the love he felt for you and his baby girl.

"What got you smiling so cute?"

Your sudden remark catapulted Daryl out of his thoughts. He finished the last button on the shirt, then lifted his head properly. His eyes met your frame; standing in the doorway - and it was probably the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You were wearing one of his sweaters, sweatpants and fluffy socks. Clothes who did not tick many boxes besides being absolutely comfortable. Comfort was all you cared about at the moment - understandably. Besides the easy access to your daughter's food source, of course. Speaking of her... She was neatly tucked against your body to provide body warmth; hands cradling her bum and head. Eyes closed and most likely sleeping; milk drunk and satisfied.

He merely shook his head; still smiling. "Nothin'. Jus'..." Daryl crossed the short distance between you and him. One hand gripped your hip gently, the other cupped your cheek. "...this. You. Our daughter." His oceanic blues gazed into your Y/E/C ones. "Ain't never been happier in my life, I think." Daryl's words caused you to smile as well. Turning your head slightly, you kissed his palm. "Me too. Even more now since we go back home." He nodded in agreement, "Yeah. 'S gon be perfect." and pressed a tender, lingering kiss against your forehead. His goatee tickling your skin.

"I love you, Dar."

Although he heard you say it about a million times by now, his heart never failed to skip a beat. "I love ya, too, sunshine." His eyes flickered to the newborn in your arms. "Both 'a ya." You smiled; eyes speaking the language of pure, unbridled love.

"'M gonna go check if the others are ready. 'N I gotta get my bike, too," the archer said; thumbs caressing your soft, delicate skin. You nodded. "Sure, go. I'll get everything ready here. Could you send Jude and RJ over? They have to check their room again and make sure they got everything." "'M gonna send the kids over, yeah, but you, darlin', ain't gonna do anythin' besides movin' yer cute ass over to the sofa 'n lay down."

A last loving look was exchanged before he grabbed his angel-winged vest, slipped inside the signature piece of clothing and left.

You wanted to open your mouth and say something in protest but Daryl was quick to leapfrog you. "Nah. No buts. Yer gonna rest. Yer body is still recoverin' 'n we got a long way home." You sighed, but nodded; knowing that arguing wouldn't get you further. Plus, you couldn't deny that your partner was actually right.

"Okay, yeah. I'm gonna lay down." Daryl smiled, "Good girl." and dipped his head to bestow a soft kiss on your lips before he let go of you. His thumb brushed over one tiny foot of his daughter; safely confined by the romper she was wearing. "I won't be long," he promised; marveling at the baby's smallness. You watched Daryl with yet another smile. How his eyes stuck on the tiny girl. His gentle touch. "Yeah, I know."

He had managed to make it a one on one; killing one of the men. The clearly weaker fighter. The other one was stronger and harder to defeat. One moment of negligence was enough to get into a predicament. That was the moment the guy became a problem. He gained the upper hand and had the archer now pinned to the concrete floor; choking him. Daryl tried hard to fight it. He couldn't and wouldn't die. He had a family to look after now. To protect. To provide for. You and his newborn daughter.

Little did the archer know that he was going to fight for his life only a few minutes later...

He had reached the meeting point; carriage completely abandoned and messy. Wooden boxes laid on the ground with their content mostly destroyed and distributed on the ground. No Maggie. No Hershel. No Jude or RJ. Nobody. Daryl frowned, kicked down the pedestal of his bike to park it and immediately started to analyze the scene; quite confused. The traces led him into the warehouse behind the scene, but he didn't have the time to 'investigate' any further. Two men sneaked up on him - the perfect ambush. Before Daryl could even blink, he found himself in a fight again. Two against one - not even remotely fair, but not really a problem for the experienced fighter. Yet.

"They got the kids, Maggie," Daryl panted and breathed hard to get air back into his lungs. His eyes met the ones of his best friend; showing his gratitude. "They got everyone," Carol stated. Daryl's eyes widened to the size of plates as the meaning of his friend's words hit him like a truck. If Pamela's men tried to abduct everyone of the group, it meant... "Y/N..." Daryl gasped. "Fuck. I gotta go. I gotta check on 'em." Carol nodded in understanding. "Go, but be careful, yeah? Don't act headless. I know you." Daryl merely nodded; already halfway disappearing around the corner. Carol looked after him with a worried look. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea to split up.

No, he wasn't going to die. Not today. Not here. Not now. And certainly not because of this asshole.

Help was just around the corner, though. Carol, who apparently had the same thought as him, appeared behind the men and used a slat to hit the prick on the head who was currently choking her best friend. Daryl got quickly up and grabbed his knife - just in time to watch the man he killed take a bite out of his former colleague. It was an easy task to get rid of the threat then; driving his weapon through both men's skulls.

Daryl more or less ran back to the house in which he shared an apartment with you. He hurried up the steps as fast as his legs carried him - only to find the door slightly ajar. His heart thumped hard against his ribcage; almost bursting at the sight. He already feared the worst, but then the signature cries of his baby urged to his ears. Without hesitation, he stormed inside.

The scene he walked into made his blood boil. The apartment was messy; signaling the archer that you had clearly been involved in a fight as well. His eyes frantically searched for you. It didn't take him long to do so... A man had pinned you to the wall beside the sofa and crib. One hand firmly around your throat, the other trying to reach for the tiny girl in the grip; attempting to cover her mouth to keep her cries muffled. Wheezing breaths left your lips as you tried to stay conscious. Your hands wrapped around the man's wrist as he choked you; scratching and pulling. Your legs kicked repeatedly against the shins of the man, but all of it wasn't quite helping. Usually, you had no problem to fight a man - or more. Daryl had taught you very well, but right now you didn't stand a chance. Not after birthing a baby only a few days ago. Your body was still recovering and not strong enough for a fight.

Daryl balled his hands to fists; jaw clenching. The primitive urge to protect his woman and child stronger than ever before. He was about to absolutely lose it and run over to fight the man who hurt his family - but then your eyes flickered up and landed coincidentally on your partner. Out of instinct, your eyes widened and you started to wriggle even more against your opponent's death grip - a mistake. Your understandable but obvious behavior blew Daryl's cover; took him the advantage of going unnoticed away.

The intruder noticed, of course and looked over his shoulder to witness the archer on the verge of storming over. Unfortunately wasn't the man stupid. He let quickly go of you; carelessly, and took a step to the left - towards the crib with his hands hovering about the crying infant inside. "One step closer and the baby dies!" The man yelled, causing Daryl to literally freeze in his movements. The archer threw him a death glare; heart racing in his chest. Fear and anger pumped adrenaline through his whole system.

"Touch 'er 'n I kill ya," Daryl growled through gritted teeth. "Try me," spat the man in return. The tension was thick; cuttable with a knife.

You sat on the floor; body slumped against the wall. Your strength was running so low that you weren't even able to keep yourself on your feet. Especially not after being halfway choked to death. You barely registered the conversation and stare contest between your attacker and partner since your body was too occupied in getting air back inside your lungs. You coughed; breathing hard and unsteady. It broke Daryl's heart to see you like that... In pain and suffering. He wanted to hurry over to you. Help you. Make sure you were okay, but he couldn't risk it. He'd never forgive himself if this innocent, tiny life got hurt because of him.

Your body may have been weak, but your motherly instincts strong. The cries of your baby - cries of helplessness and discomfort sent you into a frenzy. "P-Please, don't, please..." You stammered out; tears gathering in your eyes. "T-That's my baby, p-please!" You were begging the man, while trying to heave your exhausted body closer to the crib. But he didn't have any of it. "Stay where you are! Nobody moves, or...!" He put his hands dangerously close to the tiny girl's neck. Both, you and Daryl knew that it wouldn't take much. She was barely a week old; still so tiny and fragile.

He had unlocked the animal inside of the archer with threatening his baby and its mother, and was now paying the price. With his life.

Daryl's brain worked feverishly to find a way to get both his girls safely out of the situation, while you kept whispering 'Please' over and over again like prayer.

"Whaddaya want?! Where did ya take the others?!" The archer started to indulge the man in a conversation; hoping to distract him enough to get his knife out of its sheath unnoticed. "Freeing the Commonwealth of a plague," the man hissed. Daryl shook his head; hand working subtle and precisely. "Ya didn't answer my question, ya prick. Where are the others?" "I don't know, scum! And I frankly don't ca- Ahhh!" A painful yelp slipped past the man's lips as he was forced to cut off his own sentence. Daryl's plan had been a success. He had freed his knife, took the risk - he had to, and threw said knife which was now plunged in the man's shoulder. It caused him to stumble a few steps back - away from the crib and the newborn inside. That was Daryl's start signal. He lunged forward to literally tackle the intruder to the ground. From that moment on, everything happened so fast. Fists colliding with skin and bones, until they were bloody and went to wrap around the throat. The man underneath Daryl was struggling and desperately trying to shove him off and away from him, but it was no use. Daryl was too strong; too dominant.

His heart clenched.

"Told ya I was gonna kill ya, prick," Daryl growled, pulled his knife out of the man's shoulder to pierce his skull with it instead, before he crawled off of the lifeless body. He quickly wiped his bloodied knuckles on his shirt and lifted himself off the ground to tend to his still crying baby. His fatherly instincts kicking into overdrive.

Daryl approached the crib; hovering over the wooden furniture. The tiny girl inside was wriggling around in her warm confines like crazy. Cheeks stained with tears and red from all the crying.

"Hey, lil' angel, dun cry," he whispered hoarsely yet gently and reached carefully inside to cradle the miniature human in his big hands. "Sh, sh, sh, 's all good. Daddy got ya, sweetpea." He lifted her up to lay her into the crook of his arm to provide some body contact and warmth in an attempt to calm her down. His pointer finger softly traced her cheeks and the small hands which were closed to fists with the even smaller fingers attached.

Once your breathing got even and regular again, one hand reached out to cover Daryl's - which was cupping the newborn's bottom to keep her safely tucked in his arm. You looked up; eyes meeting your partner's - and he knew. He saw the longing in your eyes. The urge. The need to hold your daughter. So, without a word, the archer maneuvered the baby girl cautiously in your arms. She protested at the short loss of warmth with a whine, but once she felt that her mama was close, the world was perfectly alright again. You buried your nose in the baby's tufts of chestnut brown hair; deeply inhaling her scent and pressing your lips repeatedly against the utter softness.

At her father's words, touch and comfort, the little girl calmed down. Her cries got quieter and quieter, until they faded into soft coos.

"S-She okay?" Your broken, shaky voice urged to his ears and he instantly looked up to face you. You were still sitting on the floor; wiping away some stray tears and trying to get a grip and grasp what just happened. Daryl hadn't forgotten about you. Of course not! He just thought it would be best to tend to his crying infant first. He nodded; eyes thoroughly scanning the baby's body again. "All good. She's fine, sunshine." A relieved breath you didn't even know you were holding left your lips.

The archer stepped over and sat down on the floor beside you; back propped against the wall. He opened his arm for you. "C'mere. Gotta make sure my woman is a'right as well." You didn't let yourself tell that twice. You slid closer - into Daryl's awaiting arm and cuddled against his side. His closeness (and your baby) being all you needed right now. He instantly tightened his grip around you; chapped but gentle lips peppering your forehead repeatedly with kisses. "'S okay. 'M here. I got ya," your partner whispered as he tried to offer as much comfort and love as possible. "Ain't lettin' anythin' happen to my family." You were still in a state of shock, so you said nothing at all and just held on to Daryl. Closing your eyes, you relished in his touch and inhaled his natural scent. Leather, smoke, something earthy and musky, and a touch of blood and sweat.

She was okay and safely back in your arms.

Daryl adjusted his position; was now seated behind you. His back against the wall, your back against his chest as you sat between his open legs. Strong arms pulled you protectively closer; tucking you neatly against his front.

"Ya okay, darlin'?" He muttered softly, as his thumbs started to rub soothing circles into the clothed skin of your sides. You nodded. Merely, but you nodded. The shock was the worst - besides the still lingering pain around your neck and throat. Daryl's eyes flickered over every visible body part of yours; making sure. They got stuck on your neck, of course, and saw the bruises forming already. He swallowed. Another wave of rage crushes into him. He was angry. Angry of Pamela for breaking the deal and kidnapping his friends and family. Angry of himself for not being here to help earlier. For letting this happen.

The archer's head dropped to your neck, where he peppered the bruised and hurting skin with gentle kisses. "'M sorry," he whispered. "'M so sorry. Shoulda been 'ere earlier. Then this wouldn't have happened. Fuck, should've never even left from the start..." His voice broke at the end; close to shedding tears.

You had listened to his every word. Your eyes watered as well. You shook your head and freed one hand from the now sleeping newborn in your arms to reach behind and cup Daryl's head; fingers buried in his curls. "It's not your fault, Dar. You couldn't know that this was going to happen..." "Dun care. Shoulda been here. 'S my job to protect the both 'a ya, 'n I failed. I dun even wanna know what would've happened if I didn't..." He trailed off and swallowed hard; unable to finish the sentence. It hurt too much. "Daryl..." You whispered his name and angled your head; lips brushing his stubbly cheek, then his lips. "Stop, baby. What happened happened. You can't change it. But we're alright, okay? We're here. We're alive - and whatever Pamela throws at us... We're gonna make it. We're gonna find the others and make it. Together. Like we always do."

Your heart sunk.

Daryl swallowed once more. You were right. He couldn't change the past, but the future. He swore to himself to protect you even better. And together you were going to make this. Like you always did. Starting over.

His lips searched and found yours; entangling them in a linger kiss filled with love and the promise to keep you and his baby safe - until the very last breath he was going to take on this godforsaken planet. You melted into the kiss. It gave you the strength and confidence you needed. It always did. Daryl was the bright and shining light in this dark world. Always was, and he always would be.

Once you ended the kiss, Daryl started to shift then; gently squeezing your sides to urge you on to stand up as well. "C'mon, sunshine. We should go, 'n find Carol." You nodded and started to move as well; Daryl helping you stand up. After all, you had a cute, tiny creature tucked in your arms... "Carol managed to flee? Thank god..." The archer nodded and grabbed the most necessary backpack you had packed - filled with baby stuff. Diapers, bottles, fresh clothes, blankets and such things. "Yeah, 'm glad too, but I think nobody else beside us made it to escape."

"W-We gotta find them. Help them." Daryl threw the backpack over his shoulder and took the tiny girl from your arms in his so that you were able to slip in your 'outdoor' clothes with your weapons attached. "And we will, sunshine," he promised you and lastly helped you slip inside the baby carrier with one hand. "We'll find each other again. 'S what we do. 'S what we always did. Ain't nothin' in this world is gonna keep us apart for long." Daryl maneuvered the little girl into the carrier. You made sure that she was safely and securely strapped inside; luckily still sleeping. "We're gonna safe 'em and Alexandria."

A surge of hope and confidence swept over you at his words. You took your partner's hand; intertwining your fingers and gave his big hand a squeeze. You nodded, "Let's go." and smiled. Daryl dipped his head to bestow another kiss on your forehead then gave you a small smile in return, before he started to guide you out of the apartment. You had to find Carol, find out where the others had been taken and then get the hell out of this place.

One thing was certain... The archer was done playing games.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @dixonsdarkelf @dixons-sunshine @negansbestie @bigbaldheadname @ellasdixon @loz-3 @imadisneyprincessiswear @mayday2007 @huntedmusicgardenn @belitoxx @marvelcasey05 @stitchintimefan @whore4romance @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @cakesandtom @sweetz1919

[walkingtalkingsomething]

mercy... 🥴🥴🥴

⟢ just thinking about how fucking desperate needy!daryl would be for you.

he’d be a total wreck — sweaty, breathless, already whining before he even got his pants down. his cock, flushed an angry red, would be leaking precum like a damn faucet, his slit glistening, pulsing, begging for a touch that wasn’t his own. his hand would wrap around himself in a tight, punishing grip, pumping with fast, frantic strokes, but nothing he did would ever match the heat of your skin, the softness of your thighs, the sweet little sighs you’d make. he hasn't had the opportunity to taste your delicious body, but he's damn sure it would feel like heaven on earth.

his breath would hitch, stuttered gasps falling from parted lips as his hips bucked into his fist like an animal in rut. his balls ached, heavy and tight, and every nerve in his body screamed for release, but it still wasn’t enough. not without you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” he'd mumble, voice hoarse and ruined. forehead pressed to the mattress as he fucked his own hand like it could somehow feel like your tight warmth.

you were all he could think about — the way you said his name, slow and syrupy like it tasted good on your tongue. those little sundresses you wore around the porch, your thighs peeking out just enough to make his stomach twist. your damn smile, the way it lit him up like he was worth a damn. like he wasn’t just some broken, redneck man jerking off alone in the dark.

god, you had no clue the chokehold you had on him. no clue how he’d gone back home after passing you in the street, cock already half-hard from the sound of your laugh alone. like some needy, shame-ridden teenage boy who couldn’t stop thinking about the pretty girl next door.

his strokes would get faster, rougher, as shame curdled low in his belly — but it didn’t stop him. he couldn’t stop. he wanted to drown in the filth, to let your name fall from his lips as he came like a fucking mess.

and when it hit — god, it hit hard. his body jerked as thick, hot ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles, his thighs, dripping down his wrist while he moaned your name like a damn prayer. he didn’t stop. couldn’t. even as he whimpered from overstimulation, hips jerking, cock sensitive and twitching in his sticky grip — he kept going, like he was trying to squeeze the last drop of you out of his ruined body.

only when his head finally dropped back to the pillow, chest heaving, did the guilt hit — but even then, all he could do was imagine what your cunt would feel like if you ever let him fuck you for real.

✧ a/n: writing this before going to bed. good night everyone, love y'all. ᡣ𐭩

[renren-006]

Immunity | Daryl Dixon x fem (immune) reader

plot: what if the reader was immune...and the truth came out

a/n: just an idea bc i was watching the last of us also thank you to everyone who voted for this to be the next story posted!!

You didn't like lying to them; it was practically the opposite of what you wanted to do. You tried to tell them when they first found you, but you didn’t. The words fell from your lips the moment your eyes met his. 

The group found you when you had escaped from the doctors who had you captive. You were tired, rabid, and scared. You had quite literally run into one of the members of this new group.

 As you later found out, Carol instinctively wrapped her arms around you after you bumped into her. The conversation after that was lost on you; all you knew was that this new group was happy to let you join once they made sure you were alright. They tried asking you about your past group, but you refused to answer. A few of them were cautious of you, including the man who had caught your eye.

You did your best to help the group out on the road before finding the prison. You did what you could. Beyond helping them, you also stuck to Carol's side. Unknowingly, Carol had a habit of making a small family of people with whom she felt a connection. You almost expected her to be wary of you and push you away, but seeing you scared and desperate for comfort, she let you inside her heart.

“You can bunk with me” Carol had said to you, motioning to the top bunk. You smiled at her kindness and her comfort. 

Daryl, however, took the most time to warm up to you. He let you have his share of food, medical supplies, and an extra gun, but he also kept you at arm's length. He would grunt when you didn't eat, shove the rest of his surviving food into your bowl, and then leave, saying he was going on watch. This didn't stop in the prison, either. He always made sure that you got more food than what was portioned for you. 

You kept everyone else at arm's length, never fully letting them in. You couldn't let them know the reasons why those people had you locked up or why you wore long sleeves. They didn't know about the doctors or the lockup, but you felt that at least a few suspected some dire situation.

The real issue was you were somehow immune to the virus. The thousands of bite marks that scared your skin were hidden underneath your long sleeves and jeans, proving this.

Even in the heat of Georgia, your thin long sleeve was still on.

“You know you don't have to wear long sleeves now?” Maggie said to you as she rounded towards you. You were watching the yard, leaning slightly on the brick prison walls. 

“I know. Just more comfortable…” “Beth wears long sleeves, too,” Maggie said after a moment. You had heard the stories about Beth's attempts early on and how she's ashamed of them now. You knew Maggie was assuming, so you merely nodded your head. “We don't have to talk about it. I'm here for you.”

You smiled. Maggie was around your age, so for you to say she was treating you like a big sister would be a little off-topic. She was treating you like family, however.

“Now. Are you going to keep just staring at Daryl, or will you ever try?” she asked you. You laughed slightly and moved down the wall so she could share your spot. It was one of the few spots with good sun without the glare. As you both watched over the yard, you realized just how much you liked Daryl.

“Well…Shit,” you said, “Maybe you're right,” Maggie burst out into laughter. It slowly developed over time the subtle things Maggie would do to get you closer to the man. 

It started with sitting next to Darly and moved over to make you sit there instead. Daryl would give you a once-over nod and turn back to his food. Then, the conversations slowly started.

“You went on that run this mornin’, right?” he asked you when you sat down. You nodded your head. It was just the two of you at the table, eating early before everyone else. Darly had a night watch. 

“I did,” you told him, “didn't find too much; everything has been picked over” 

“Seems ‘bout right,” he said before standing. “I got to watch”

Slowly things started to become easier and more comfortable between the two of you. 

“Ya going with them?” Daryl asked as he moved next to you. You watched the group pack up the car for another run into a nearby town you felt would be the same as the last. You shook your head and absently scratched at your arm. 

“Not today.” Another bite rested there on your left arm, freshly bandaged from yesterday's run-in. Thankfully, no one saw or noticed how you found a jacket and threw it on even though it was almost 100 degrees. When you got back, you found a quiet spot and patched yourself up, changed your shirt, and made it back for dinner, saying you wanted to change out of your sweat-ridden shirt. Daryl noticed the scratching. 

“Ya good?” he asked. You looked up and smiled.

“Oh yeah. Mosquitoes are a bitch” you said with a laugh. Darly nodded his head, shook it, and put the thought swarming his head out the window. You were not Beth; he shouldn't worry about a little itch. 

“I was going to go on a run tomorrow. Do you want to come?” he asked, and you smiled.

“Only if I get to ride the motorcycle,” you said with a smirk. Daryl had never let anyone ride on it since getting to the prison, but somehow, you knew he would let you. Darly smiled.

“Sure,” you knew at that moment that all those months of getting extra food, supplies, and small talk were Daryl's way of showing he cared. Now, you wondered if he ever would express it to you or if the two of you would continue this known unknown thing forever. 

When you joined him on the run and tried your hardest to keep calm while you hugged him on the motorcycle, you managed to get closer to Darly in that small little run. You cleared houses, found hidden supplies, and he even found you some hidden jewelry in a box under a floorboard. “You want it?” he asked, handing you the old jewelry box. Inside were lots of silver treasures. You smiled. It had been a long time since you had worn any or had a guy bring you a whole box and almost demand you take it. 

“I'd be crazy not to take it,” you said, looking through it and then delicately placing it into your backpack. If you find more treasures, I want to see them,” you told him. Darly looked at you with an oddly calm calculation. “What?” “Nothin’,” he said, “you finally seem like yourself,” and left the room without another word. You stared at the spot he had been. Daryl not only noticed your slow transition to finally being a part of the group and feeling good again, but he commented on it to let you know he did. You found him waiting by the bike.

“Tell me I'm wrong,” you said, not mentioning what, but the look you gave him and the way he lowered his head and nodded told you enough.

“You're not,” he said, reaching out to help you into the bike. That spoken, unspoken thing was there, and now it wasn't so much spoken. 

When the prison fell, and you escaped with him and Beth, you traveled together like a family, lost Beth, and fought against bikers like a couple. Daryl did everything he could in those months to keep you safe. Daryl was only a man, however. 

Blood dripped down your arm, and another bite tore your skin open. The old warehouse seemed like a bad place to be in now.

“Shit,” you hissed as you looked at the bite. The walker was dead on the floor before you now, but Daryl had his eyes trained on you. 

“y/n…” Daryl spoke with a heartbroken emphasis. Your eyes met his and returned to the bite you knew you couldn't hide this time. 

“I'm fine,” you said. Quickly pulling out a bandage and trying to wrap it. Daryl stopped you, standing over you. 

“We have to..” he started. “Im fine” you said, you didn't dare look up at him. “Nothing's going to happen..” “The hell you mean nothin’ gonna happen,” he said, scoffing a bit at the end. “You got bit”

“And I promise nothing's going to happen,” you said, staring into his eyes. “I…”

“What?” he said, clearly annoyed.

“I'm immune,” you said looking up at him. 

“You can't be…” “I am…It's why I was out on the road when you met me. The people that had me before…they were doctors…testing me and my immunity,” you told him. Darly stood frozen as he watched you put your backpack down. You tore your shirt off, letting him see you fully. Bite marks scarred your upper arms and stomach. Daryl took it all in. “I…can't get the infection.”

“Why?” he asked, moving to you and letting his hands touch your skin. He felt the bumps, saw how the infection tried to spread from them but faded out, and even saw how some of the bite marks went below your jeans. 

“I never stayed long enough to figure it out,” you said, your voice sounding small. “I would have died…if I had stayed any longer.” Daryl just nodded. He put your shit back on, bandaged your arm, grabbed your back, and wordlessly walked out of the building. That night, you sat by the campfire, cold and uncertain. The air around you felt like it, too, was holding its breath. 

“Imma kill em,” he said, breaking the silence. You looked over at him. “They hurt ya like this. would have killed ya to figure it out…” He looked as if he wanted to fight the world for you. Daryl's eyes mirrored the fire that roared in front of you. 

“They didn't” you told him.“You saved me remember, you took me in”

“You saved yourself,” he said. I wish you had told me so I could have gone and killed them.” Darly sounded small at that moment, as if he had not done enough to help you. You felt it, the way Daryl blamed himself for not being able to rid the world of the men who hurt you. “That wouldn't have fixed anything,” you told him. They weren't anywhere close to figuring out what was wrong with me.” “Nothings wrong with ya,” he told you, speaking only seconds after you. This makes you resign if there is ever something wrong with you. Daryl moved to your side, sitting next to you. He fiddled with your hand, bringing your sleeve down a bit to see the marks, “Something wonderful is wrong with you, and I'm glad you can't leave me.”

It was a declaration to the world. The wind swept through you, rustling the leaves, the cans, and the wire. The fire slowed down from its roar. Daryl didn't move from your side from that night on, always sleeping with you beside him. He became your shadow, always there, always protecting, always loving.

[sandradreams]

I still wait for you between the trees

Sometimes, when the woods go quiet and the only sound is the crunch of leaves under my boots, I swear I hear your laugh.

I stop.

Close my eyes. Pretend you’re right behind me, wearing that look that always said more than words ever could. But it’s just the wind again, messing with my head.

Since you left, I don’t really talk to anyone. Not really. Just the trees, the shadows, the night. They don’t ask questions. They don’t leave. They don’t die.

I left flowers in that same spot where you said the pines smelled like home. They barely grow anymore, but I still go back. I still leave something.

I was never good with words, but if you’re out there—if you’re listening from wherever you ended up—just know this:

I still leave space beside me, in case you come home.

Written by Daryl Dixon – date unknown

*dividers by @enchanthings

[escapisms-posts]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒍 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When you're alone, Daryl loves picking you up for absolutely no reason. He’ll throw you over his shoulder without saying a word. It pleases him knowing he can pick you up without breaking a sweat. 

When Daryl first finds out you're pregnant, it scares him A LOT. It will take him a while to gather his thoughts, because he has never had a good role model. The only thing going through his mind is all the mistakes he’s going to make. You reassure him that you see how he connects with the others. That he is a caring and loyal person.

Once the fear clears from his body, he becomes obsessed with the idea of you carrying his child. Before your bump is even visible, he’s holding you by the stomach. He’ll come up behind you and start rubbing your belly, reminding you of how beautiful you are. 

Daryl knows you're capable of taking care of yourself, even while pregnant. But he can’t help but make your life as easy as possible. He’ll walk with you to work and help you complete your tasks, even after being tired of doing his. Daryl begins to go on runs a little less often because he wants to be near you and the baby more. He loves taking care of you so much.

As your body begins to change due to you growing a whole new person, you can’t help but feel a little insecure. Staring in the mirror every night since you’ve noticed the first changes. Stretch marks are beginning to form around your stomach, your chest becomes heavier, and the fatigue that wears you down after a long day. You miss your old body. Daryl is there, telling you how ridiculous you sound. Telling you that it's normal for your body to go through this. His in your corner, cheering you on, telling you how sexy you are to him. Nothing's more beautiful than you creating his child.

Since you don’t have a pregnancy pillow, Daryl holds your stomach while you sleep. It doesn’t even bother him, all he wants is for you to be comfortable. This late into the pregnancy, he can feel the baby react to his touch. 

Worry-free creampies ꨄ︎

Sometimes his mind can’t help but wander, Pregnancy is incredibly risky during an apocalypse. Though you’ve talked about the risks, you still decided that you wanted this baby. It's not impossible, just difficult. Even understanding all this, he can’t bear the thought of losing you. Which is why he wants this pregnancy to be as easy as possible for you. 

Lying in bed together, Daryl talks to the baby about his day. It's the most he says all day. Pregnancy is almost coming to an end, the baby jumps, everytime they hear their father's voice. Daryl lies between your legs, planting kisses along your stomach. You don’t know if it's because you're hormonal or straight up dramatic, but every time he says, “I can’t want to meet you,” it makes you want to cry.

[walkingtalkingsomething]

🤗🤗🤗

reader pronouns: she/her

Rick, Shane, and Daryl were standing around discussing the supply situation when you walked past, clearly absorbed in some task of your own and with your rifle slung onto your shoulder.

Daryl didn't like the way Shane's eyes followed you.

"Hey—what's her story anyway?" Shane asked. "You seem to know her, Daryl. What's her deal?" he asked, thoughtfully rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin, his eyes still glued to your retreating figure.

Daryl scowled. "Oh, I wouldn't mess with her. She bites," he drawled.

Shane chuckled at first but it faded when he saw the look on Daryl's face. "She bites? Maybe I bite back," he joked, nudging Rick with his elbow and laughing again.

Daryl didn't smile though, only straightened up and slung his bow up on his shoulder. "Ain't nobody bite quite like her and her rifle. I wouldn't test it. You'll wind up one of the walkin' dead... Besides, she's got back-up." With that, he took his leave and rushed off to find you. Prompt: "I wouldn't mess with her. She bites."

[mvth3r]

daryl doesn’t think he’s anything special. he never has. but to you? he’s everything.

or

5 times daryl feels your affection down to his core and the many 1 time he unconsciously returns the favor.

cw: 18+ MDNI, p-in-v, mention of injury, swearing, mostly fluff, 4283 words

a/n: this draft got the most votes in the poll, which was surprising tbh! next up medieval au, princess reader, forbidden romance?? hmmmm

one.

daryl hears you coming before he sees you. he knows it’s on purpose, so you don’t startle him (“and get an arrow in the tit or something, i don’t know!” you had explained, laughing). he’s long since taught you how to be quiet when walking over leaves and branches.

his eyes drifted in the direction of the noise, watching you melt out of the trees, water bottle in one hand and knife in the other. you had a bad habit of speeding through or ignoring your own duties in favor of tracking him out into the woods while he was hunting. the teasing looks from rick and carol when they saw the gates open in the evening, revealing the two of you instead of just him, were enough to have him blushing up to his ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop you. if anything, daryl found himself lingering closer to the prison when he was first setting out for the day and making his tracks a little easier for you to follow as he went on. he liked to think of it as a teaching moment, encouraging you to follow his lessons, but he knew what it really was.

he liked having you here with him, away from prying eyes and ears. daryl wasn’t big on pda, he’d never been, and you knew that, but you could be as affectionate as you wanted out here.

the smile that split you face when you saw daryl was blinding, creasing your eyes and cheeks, “hey, handsome.”

daryl felt his heart start to pound immediately in his chest and warmth radiate through his belly and down his limbs. he had the distant, bizarre thought that any walker for a few miles would probably be able to smell his blood as it rose rapidly to his face, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

he scoffed quietly to keep the words he really wanted to say from spilling unbidden from his throat as you caught up to him, instead deadpanning, “handsome? really?”

you hummed, raising a hand to card through his long bangs, eyes tender when they met his, “mhm, very handsome. don’t i tell you every day?”

you leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, no longer than a moment. you hand drifted from his hair down to cup his jaw as you did, and daryl found himself leaning into your palm, his own hand coming up to grip your wrist loosely.

you pulled away with a smaller, more intimate smile, one that daryl had only ever seen directed at him. and, if you had felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt or seen the intensity of his flush, you didn’t say a word.

two.

daryl was distracted.

this council meeting was dragging on much longer than intended. what was initially supposed to be a quick conversation about planning a run to get supplies for judith and a few of the other kids had turned into a heated debate about possibly opening up the council to a few of the people from woodbury. he could understand why. there was still a stark divide between their group and the new people, but daryl had been content to sit back and let the situation mend itself, so long as it didn't escalate.

the discussion was split down the middle. or.. maybe there were more in favor of maintaining the current council? daryl couldn’t tell because he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t focus because every time he tried to lock in on the conversation, he could feel your fingers brush over his knuckles.

earlier, when the meeting started, you had sat yourself right next to daryl, reached under the table, and grabbed his hand where it was resting on his knee. no fanfare, no lovesick gazes, just your fingers intertwined with his calloused ones like they belonged there. which, he mused to himself, maybe they do.

and so there your hand had remained as the meeting went on. every so often, you would brush your fingers lightly over his knuckles, or give his fingers a squeeze if you happened to catch his eyes… which would lead to you chuckling quietly to yourself when his neutral expression would warm over with a blush.

the meeting had been going on for at least an hour. god.

“daryl, what do you think?”

glenn’s voice cut through daryl’s thoughts like a knife. he jerked a little, almost dislodging your hand when he looked across the table, meeting the expectant stares of the council.

“uhh,” he grunted eloquently, “‘bout bringin’ some of them folks on?”

hershel nodded expectantly, his voice thoughtful, “don’t you think we could afford their input? after all, this is their home now just as much as it is ours.”

your fingers brushed again over his knuckles and daryl willed himself not to lose focus. not to allow his mind to run on with thoughts about the softness of your fingers and how much he liked the feeling of your palm against his. how comfortable-

no.

daryl blinked and cleared his throat, “we don’ even have rick on the council right now, i’on think it’s a good idea.”

glenn nodded along with maggie and, reluctantly a moment later, hershel did too, though his mouth had settled into a thin frown.

daryl felt your hand squeeze his twice, taking it as a nonverbal ‘good job!’, and paused only a moment before squeezing back his own nonverbal ‘thank you’. he saw a small smile flit across your face out the corner of his eye.

before the debate could start up again, you were leaning forward and speaking up, saying, “alright, let’s table this for next time then. the run is already planned for the baby stuff, so—?”

hershel’s eyes swept across the table and he nodded, “meeting adjourned, i suppose.”

three.

the woods were clear as daryl looked out over the gate. he could see everything from the watchtower, as was intended, but for once the calm darkness was not a comfort.

instead, every moment that passed heightened the panic that had been swirling in his gut since earlier that evening.

it had been roughly fourteen hours since you had left on a run with glenn and maggie. there was a small gas station a little ways out that looked to be mostly untouched, and you had been pulled to fill in daryl’s usual slot since he was already slated to go hunting.

he was regretting it now, though, as he continued to watch the road leading up to the gate for any sign of maggie’s headlights.

while the general rule of thumb was to be back to the prison before dark, everyone knew that sometimes shit happens, whether it be walkers appearing at the worst possible time, or not being able to secure the haul. hell, shit happened more often than it didn't, as far as daryl was concerned.

maybe the haul had been much larger than the three of you had planned for, and you had to hide some of it away for a return trip.

maybe y'all had come across a herd large enough to block the car's path and had to find a way around it to get home without leading them back behind you.

maybe the gas station had been a bust all together and you’d gone further out in hopes of not returning empty handed.

the thoughts swimming through his mind sent daryl pacing across the small area of the watchtower. back and forth he went, eyes flashing over to the gate of the prison every few seconds.

“you’re gonna wear out your shoes like that.”

oh right. daryl isn’t even on watch, not officially at least. he’d joined carol a little after the sun went down and been up here ever since.

carol continues on despite his brooding silence, “they’re okay. something probably held them up, it happens.”

daryl turned to face carol, scrubbing a hand down his face. he opening his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of wheels crunching across gravel made him whip back around.

he barely registered that it was maggie’s car before he was yanking the floor hatch open and climbing down. rick, who’d been poking around the farm despite the late hour, unwilling to admit his own anxiety, was already pulling the gate open to let the car in.

daryl stopped further up the hill to meet you, and, as soon as you popped the lock on your door, he was tugging it open with one hand and reaching for you with the other.

you went willingly, a sheepish smile on your face as you let him turn you this way and that, checking for any injuries or bites, neither of which you had.

“sorry i’m late, handsome,” you whispered, “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

daryl grunted in response, resisting the urge to press himself against you and feel your heart beat against his skin. he understood that you were capable, and that you had lasted just as long in the apocalypse as he had, but he can't help but wonder if he'll ever get used to this, or if he'll spend any moment you aren't within his reach on the edge of a panic attack.

by then, rick had made his way up the hill to the car and was helping unload their findings from the boot. all things considered, the three of you had brought back a pretty decent amount of stuff.

“everyone alright?” rick questioned, eyes skirting over the contents of the trunk to scan the three of you instead. "what held y'all up?"

maggie shook her head with a smile, “nothing like that. we found a good bit at that gas station, but there was a map of a small trailer park a little ways away, and we thought it was better to go for it while we were right down the road.”

“and we had the space anyway. didn’t make sense to waste a second trip, but it took a little longer to search than we thought,” you added. you had turned to face the group and, under the cover of the dark, you leaned back just slightly into daryl’s side.

carol, who had followed daryl down from the watchtower, hummed, and rick nodded thoughtfully. they both followed behind maggie and glenn, grabbing as much as they could carry from the car and heading up to deposit it for sorting tomorrow.

now alone, daryl took a moment to breathe you in, but he was moving soon as well, heading for the trunk to grab what was left.

he didn’t notice you coming up next to him until he felt your fingers slipping into his pocket.

“found something for you,” you said quietly, standing at his side.

daryl patted his pocket, feeling the dented box of what he assumed to be cigarettes and looked over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“i noticed you ran out the other day,” you answered his unasked question, a small smile lifting your cheeks, “combed through every trailer looking for ‘em.”

with that, you turned away from him and back to the trunk.

daryl stood speechless, his heart building up to that rapid thrum he only seemed to feel in your presence.

you had brought something back for him. had spent the daylight rummaging through dirty trailers on the off chance that you’d find a pack of cigarettes to replace his empty one that he himself hadn't even bothered to go searching to replace.

he wanted to think he didn’t understand why you would do something like this, why you would care, but he did. he’d done the same for you, time and time again on the road, if only to see you smile. he understood exactly why.

“‘preciate it,” he grunted, thankful that the darkness surrounding you kept his blush from being too obvious.

you hummed in acknowledgment, and daryl could your small smile growing out the corner of his eye.

four.

having sex in the prison was no easy feat, mostly due to the lack of privacy. a sheet could only provide so much, and even then it did nothing for the noise echoing constantly off the concrete walls.

as far as most were concerned, maggie and glenn had found the best spot early on, making the most unused watchtower their designated private retreat, but you and daryl knew otherwise.

deep in the tombs, which were no longer a threat as they had long since been cleared and sealed, there were a few tucked away offices that had sat empty even after the woodbury residents had been moved in. noise didn’t escape the tombs, and no one ever just wandered in, especially not in the middle of the night, so despite the cell that you and daryl shared, you both much preferred spending your more intimate moments here.

well, daryl did. you weren’t picky, and could be quiet when you really tried, but it made daryl more comfortable.

he’d like to think it was just because he was wary of any listening ears, especially with all the children roaming around, but he knew the truth of his resolve.

daryl had never been a selfish man, and certainly not after the world fell. everything he had, everything he was, he would give to his family in a heartbeat.

but this.. this was just for him.

your body arched beautifully under his, legs falling open to accommodate his weight settling against you. daryl’s hand left your heat, fingers dripping with wetness, to squeeze your hips, using them to guide you as your moved against him.

you were already bare, both of you having stripped each other of your clothes between heated kisses while you stumbled in the office. you hadn’t even made it to the double-stacked cot in the corner, daryl instead pushing you firmly down on the dusty desk and leaning in to mouth at your neck.

you moaned under him now, a breathy sigh of his name, and the sound sent a shiver down daryl’s spine.

“needy girl,” he grunted teasingly, reaching down to grasp his hardness. he dragged the head of his cock up your slit, collecting your wetness and smearing it over your clit.

your head knocked back against the desk and a loud groan burst out of your throat. your knees tried to close around daryl’s waist as if to keep him away, but you arms came up to wrap around him, pulling him closer to your body, and he leaned into you willingly.

your voice trembled when you spoke into his ear, want dripping from every syllable, “please, baby. need you inside me so bad.”

and god, daryl wanted to make you beg for it. he wanted to wait until he could see the desperation in your eyes and then wait some more, but he couldn’t. not when you looked so pretty spread out beneath him and your hands were petting over his shoulders and neck just how he liked. he almost thought you were doing it on purpose, but he knew better. this was just you.

you couldn’t stay off him when he was in you, always tugging at his hair or rubbing his chest, hands scrabbling for any skin you could reach. it used to send him reeling, flustered and blushing bright, but now he looked forward to it. he could feel the want in your touches like physical imprints of your affection.

daryl pushed into your slowly, groaning deep in his chest. your slick walls felt heavenly around him, but daryl was more focused on you right now.

soft whimpers fell from your lips as your hands drifted over his sweat slicked skin. daryl’s thrusts were slow but purposeful, and he ignored your legs squeezing around his waist, trying to urge him to speed up.

“relax, peach,” he soothed, hands drifting up and down your sides in pace with his thrusts, “i’ma take care of you.”

“kiss, please,” you whispered, voice floating past daryl’s ear. he would have missed it if you weren’t pressed together like this.

daryl would not describe himself as a selfish man. he might have had his moments in the past, but now, with the dead walking and a prison full of survivors to protect, it was virtually out of the question.

but as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, feeling your hands finally make their way up into his long strands, daryl thought that he might be a possessive man.

he’d sooner spread you out deep in the woods than have you where anyone could see you like this or hear the noises you make.

no, daryl thought, tongue sliding in your mouth to tangle with yours, this would always be just for him.

five.

daryl came into awareness slowly and then all at once. he startled, trying to sit up, but a searing pain made itself known in his abdomen. the pain clouded his senses, blooming out across his torso and down his limbs. he flops uselessly, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him.

hearing bits of voices above him, daryl wills himself to focus. he’s hurt, obviously, and it’s pretty fucking bad, but he’ll have to suck it up and figure out a way home if he’s in bad company.

the voices start to filter in. the volume makes his temples throb in rhythm with his abdomen and his heart as the situation starts to force adrenaline through his body.

“—harder! put more pressure on it!”

daryl relaxes just a bit. that’s rick. frantic, angry, but rick all the same.

“what the fuck do you think i’m doing?!” the other voice, higher, snarls in response, “just drive the damn truck!”

and daryl feels his body try to relax all together. he would recognize your voice in his sleep, and this milky haze of pain is no different. he can feel your hands pressing a wad of something soft into his abdomen.

he can hear your panicked breaths and feel the way your fingers flex continuously against his skin. whatever’s wrong with him must be bad, and it definitely hurts like hell, but daryl takes comfort in the weight of your body against his. you won’t let anything happen to him if you can help it, you’d sworn that fiercely, and if you can’t help it then he doesn’t think anyone could have.

daryl can just barely make out the creaking of the gate being pulled open over the sound of rick laying on the horn.

as they pull in, the gravel of the path rocks the truck and daryl feels the ache in his abdomen bloom again, distracting him from his thoughts, but here, knowing he’s safe and back with his family, he allows himself to drift away.

—

this time, when daryl comes into awareness, the first thing he feels is fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently as if to untangle a couple of knots and snarls.

without even opening his eyes he knows it’s you. he can feel the heat of your body settled next to him and smell the soap you like to bathe with. daryl leans towards you, chasing the warmth of your hand against his skin.

the bandages on his stomach are wrapped tight, but it’s more annoying than anything and the pain has finally, thankfully, subsided to a dull ache. daryl stretches on the cot, trying to loosen him limbs from their inactivity, but what he focuses on is your fingers immediately pulling away.

“daryl?” your voice prods quietly, “you awake?”

he opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight that streams through the bars of the cell. the privacy sheet isn’t down, actually there’s no sheet at all, daryl notes as he looks out. he must be in one of the cells near hershel’s.

“‘m up,” he grumbles, a cough working its way out of his throat. before he can attempt to clear the dryness, you’re standing to grab a bottle of water off some boxes stacked nearby and pressing it into his hand.

your fingers linger against his wrist as you pull away, but you’re resuming your previous position anyway, in a chair brought right up to his bedside.

daryl hasn’t sat up yet, staring instead at you as one of your hands return to his hair and the other rubs down his arm.

a few quiet moments pass before you speak again, head bowed and voice a little choked, “we almost lost you. i almost lost you.”

“didn’t though,” daryl croaks. he feels your grip tighten on his arm and just knows. knows that you’ve been sitting right here every moment that you could since he went down. knows that you probably haven’t had your hands off him. knows you’ve spent the time, however long it’s been, agonizing over what went wrong and how to keep it from happening ever again. he knows.

“i didn’t,” you agree with a barely restrained sniffle. you refuse to allow the tears beading your waterline to fall, but daryl sees them all the same.

oddly, he feels that familiar warmth blossom in his chest. he hates to see you upset, but to see your love, your heart laid so bare for him? daryl thinks he can finally understand the depth of your affections.

plus one.

to anybody who knew what to look for, it was obvious that you and daryl were.. something.

you remembered when the woodbury residents had really began to settle in, how they began to whisper about ‘the hunter and his lady’.

it had confused you at first. the group knew, of course, nothing could be kept a secret from them for too long, but for strangers? it was odd, given that you weren’t very public with your affections.

regardless, with an entire prison to secure and almost triple the amount of people to provide for, it was nothing to think too hard about. there was always something that needed to be done or something bigger to think about. you couldn't afford to think about it now.

eventually, though, you ended up mentioning it to carol, and the older woman had laughed, a teasing edge to her smile as she considered you.

“i think it has less to do with you and more with him, if i’m being honest,” she said.

“more to do with.. daryl?” you said slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow, “nah, no way.”

carol hummed, her smile turning knowing, “just watch. he’s more affectionate than he gives himself credit for.”

you’d left the conversation feeling like carol had no idea what she was talking about. later that evening, though, when you were sitting with the group for dinner and daryl was sliding a couple pieces of meat from his plate to yours despite your multiple protests, you understood.

your face must have been the textbook picture of a lightbulb going off because carol sent you a wink from across the table, lips twitching like she was hiding a laugh.

it wasn’t that the woodbury residents were over analyzing the very minimal physical affection that passed between you and daryl in a day, no. instead they were observing his quieter, more unconscious actions.

they saw the way that daryl always took care to come and find you before leaving for a run, even if it meant holding everyone up a little.

and how every so often they could find daryl sharpening a knife that was far too small for him to be wielding safely while you sat nearby, watching with a grateful smile.

and how whenever you were in the same room, you always had his eye. daryl had been adamant about keeping you within his sights while you were on the road, and the habit hadn’t left him just because you were behind walls now.

even now, months later, the newer additions to the prison were starting to catch on quicker and quicker.

they overheard daryl talking to glenn about taking your place on the run later today because you’d overdone it in the sun earlier and he wanted you to get some rest.

they saw you gush excitedly every time daryl brought you back any kind of gift, whether it be a pretty rock that he thought you’d like, or your favorite animal to cook into the stew.

they watched him watch the road every time you left for a run, regardless of who was with you, and also saw him come back to be the first to greet you when you returned if he could help it.

daryl was a quiet lover and a private man if you didn’t know what to look for, but if you did, you’d see that his affections ran just as deep as yours.

your thoughts brought a sleep smile to your face as you stretched out on the cot in your shared cell, waiting for daryl to shut off the lantern on your makeshift nightstand in the corner.

you could barely make him out in the dark, but the weight of him settling in next to you sent you right into his arms, your head pillowed on his chest while his arms came up to wrap around your back.

you tilted your head up to place a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw, mumbling a quiet, “love you.”

daryl’s arms tightened around you momentarily before loosening again. you felt him lean down to press a kiss to your hair in turn.

just over the steady thumping of his heart against your ear, you could hear him whisper back, “love you too.”

[twd-bee3]

Stay

Summary: After running into a hostile group of scavengers, you were shot while covering for Daryl, and the consequences are devastating.

Warnings/Tags: violence, gunshot wound, blood loss, trauma, HEAVY angst, canon level of gore, there is no happy ending, death, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season ten, no use of y/n

Word count: 1.6k words

A/N: I deeply apologize for the heartache that I'm about to put y'all through. I was going to spare you guys from the ending scene, but bestie Kayla (@b1eedthefreak) said to keep it in. I've been getting requests for more angst, so I've been writing more. I am so happy that y'all are loving these. Please keep the requests coming. The support from you all has brought me so much joy. Oh, and before anyone loses their shit, I will be posting this piece rewritten with a happy ending. Additional note - I was listening to “Rock That Body” by Black Eyed Peas. Do with that what you will.

The sound of gunfire splintered the air, and everything blurred around the two of you. This was supposed to be a simple supply run, but you had run into a hostile group. It was only you and Daryl, so things were getting dark fast. The couple had almost reached their cabin when there was another loud crack, and with you being in front of Daryl, you were hit by the stray.

You felt a sharp pain in your right side and cried out. Looking down, you saw the crimson blooming across your tank top and froze. “Oh shit.”

Hearing your pained gasp, Daryl spun you around so that he could look you over. He glanced down and saw the blood soaking your shirt. A cold sense of dread washed over him, and his eyes went wide.

“Fuck. No, no, no.”

“I don't know what to do, Daryl.”

You were taking labored breaths, and you were already starting to stumble. The shock was setting in fast, and Daryl was even more desperate to get you to safety. The last of the men was bound to find you two if you stayed where you were. Acting on pure instinct, he lifted you into his arms and started running again. He was careful not to drop you and clutched your body close to his chest.

“Stay with me, baby. You're okay. We're almost there.”

His words were rushed, and his voice was strained. It felt like it took hours, but you finally reached your home, and he made sure that the perimeter was clear of walkers. Daryl laid you on the couch and frantically tore your tank top to get a clearer view of the gunshot. It was deep. Really fucking deep. There was no exit wound, but he tried to maintain some semblance of hope.

The blood was pouring from your abdomen, and he felt sick to his stomach at the sight of it. This was his girl, and she was bleeding out on their couch. Daryl used his hands to apply firm pressure, but the bleeding was relentless. Tears streamed down his face as he tried desperately to keep you with him.

“I got you, sweetheart. Just- just stay awake for me. You can do that, right?”

“I'm really tryin', but I'm tired. I'm so fuckin' tired, Daryl.”

“Don't say that. You're okay. I've got you.”

Daryl kept his palms pressed against your stomach and watched as the blood seeped past his fingers like water. He needed to stop the bleeding before he could even think about attempting to stitch you up. Knowing that he needed to do more, he took off his shirt and applied more force against the wound.

You were only growing paler, and your eyes kept fluttering shut. You were trying to be strong and keep them open, but it was increasingly becoming more difficult. The sight of his baby going out on him made his chest feel heavy. He couldn't give up, though.

“Hey, sweetheart. I need you to stay with me. Please. Talk or somethin'.”

Forcing your eyes open again, you nodded and let out a shaky exhale. “Okay. Can you tell me somethin' good?”

“Somethin' good?” It took him a moment, but he was able to think of something, and he smiled weakly. “Remember that trip we're supposed to take?”

“Yeah. You're gonna take me to Oceanside and we're gonna put our feet-” your words were cut off with a sharp gasp, but you pushed through and kept speaking softly. “Our feet in the water. Dog's comin' with us.”

Daryl's heart ached hearing how hard it was for you to speak, but he was proud of you for trying. You were making an effort to stay with him - that was all that he could ask for.

“Yeah, baby. We're all goin' to the beach. You ain't gettin' in the water, though. Your dumb ass ain't never learned to swim.”

His words were teasing, but his tone was forced. He was grasping at straws to keep you awake. Daryl looked back down at the wound to see that the bleeding hadn't stopped. Your breath kept hitching, and the pit in his stomach grew. The shirt was soaked in your blood, and his forearms were caked in it - there was no fixing this. He didn't want to stop, but it was clear that his efforts were in vain.

Making eye contact with his girl again, exhaustion was written all over her face. The most that Daryl could do now was make you comfortable. Taking a shaky breath, he removed his hands from the fabric and gently stroked your cheek. The tears continued to flow.

Seeing your usually stoic boyfriend cry and the heartbreak in his gaze, you reached up to gently swipe some tears from his face. Your movements were weak, but it was obvious that you were doing your best to comfort him. You gave him a small smile and spoke again, your voice strained.

“Shhh, it's okay, my love.”

“No, don't try to comfort me. Not when you're dyin' in my fuckin' arms.”

His voice was rough and his tone was harsh, but it was obvious that he was devastated. Daryl couldn't stop crying, and his chest felt tight. Too tight. He knew that he needed to be strong for you, but he struggled to pull it together. He couldn't even speak through the sobs, so he resorted to gently stroking your cheek. Needing to be closer to you, he sat on the couch beside you and pulled you into his lap. He had never felt pain like this, and he could feel something breaking deep inside of him.

The sight of Daryl breaking down almost hurt more than the gunshot itself. His holding you was a small comfort, but you were still quickly fading. Your breathing continued to slow, and your eyes kept closing. You forced them back open and attempted to keep talking. Wiping his cheek again, you let your hand rest on the side of his face.

“I love you so fuckin' much, you know that right? Lovin' you is the only thing that I've gotten right.”

That only served to make him sob harder, and Daryl felt like a part of him was dying with you. He took ragged breaths and spoke through the tears. “I love you, sweetheart. More than anythin'. I'm so sorry that I ain't able to fix this.”

“You can't fix everythin', Daryl. This- this was bound to happen. I'm just glad that you're here with me.”

“Are you in any pain, baby?”

You felt a bit cold, but you couldn't feel the wound anymore. That only meant one thing - you were almost there. You shook your head and gently stroked his unshaven jaw. It was harder for you to speak, and your answers had been reduced to just a few words at a time. “No pain.”

Your answer confirmed what he already knew: he was losing his baby. By some miracle, Daryl was able to compose himself, and his tears slowed. He managed to keep the tremor in his voice to a minimum. He didn't want you worrying about him in your final moments.

“That's good. I ain't want you to hurt. You want me to keep talkin'?”

Your eyelids flittered again, and you gave him a small nod. You were too drained to speak at this point, and your breathing was almost imperceptible. Your pupils were dilated, and it was hard for you to concentrate. You were listening to him, though.

“Remember when we came back from dinner the other night and Dog had torn up a few of our couch pillows? The little shit was waggin' his tail and everythin'. Thought he'd done somethin' real good. You nearly pissed your pants laughin' so hard, and that only encouraged him more.”

Your lips curved in a small smile, but your gaze had started to lose focus. It was only a matter of minutes now, and the idea of that made Daryl feel hollow. He kept talking and absentmindedly stroked your cheek, though.

“Oh, remember the time when he brought that injured little bird into the house and you were hysterical? You thought that I was so mean for laughin'. I felt like a total asshole, but you're cute when you get like that. You've got the biggest heart.”

Daryl kept rambling until he felt your chest still, and he glanced down to see that your lips were parted slightly. The eyes that he always got lost in were still open, but they lacked their usual light. You were gone.

“I love you, sweet girl.”

Openly sobbing now, Daryl whispered softly and used his fingertips to gently close your eyes. He was absolutely shattered, and he hadn't even reached the hardest part yet. He knew what he had to do, but he was trying to prolong the inevitable. Before the next step, he leaned his face down and gently kissed your lips. They were already slightly cooler than usual, and their pretty pink color had faded.

You wouldn't have wanted to turn, and he owed you this small bit of mercy. He waited a few moments before grabbing your revolver that was lying on the coffee table and pressing it to your temple. Daryl screwed his eyes shut, took a shaky breath, and pulled the trigger.

The sound reverberated around the small room, and it was accompanied by his harsh sobs. His whole body was wracked with the force of them. Daryl slowly rocked your limp form like a child and whispered unkept promises to you throughout the night.

Once the sun had risen, Carol found you two like that. She had come over to see why Daryl hadn't been answering her on the old police radio - she got her answer.

[walkingtalkingsomething]

😍😍🥰🥰🤗🤗😊😊

Daddy Dixon

Summary: Daryl dixon as a dad :)

A/N: Heyyyy pookies!! It's been a while <3 but it's my yearly upload, i have some others I'm working on but idk if I'll finish them. I've been very hyperfixated on writing lately, probably my period lol. But enjoy my stinky butts!! Miss y'all

Warnings: NSFW, Dirty talk and breeding kink

Word count: 3.5K

-Daryl Dixon has never seen himself as a father. He would much rather the process of making a kid than the actual kid itself. Considering his childhood, maybe it's for the best.

-However, this man definitely has a breeding kink idc

-He loves the intimacy of cumming inside you. The way your body reacts to him filling you up, the way your eyes roll back, and your legs start to shake

-He can't help but picture how pretty you'd look pregnant as well... but he never actually wants you pregnant, he can't be a father

-When you found out, you didn't know how he'd react... you weren't sure if his obsession with cumming inside you was just that or if he really wanted you knocked up

-You tried to drop hints to him, just trying to decide if he was cool with it.

-"Jesus... fucking love your tits." He would moan out while his face was stuffed against your chest.

-"You know... pregnancy makes a woman's boobs so much bigger... cause they fill with milk and shit."...

-You weren't too good at dropping hints clearly; you made a lot of foreplay awkward with it. But how does one go about this?

-You eventually told him, you could only hide the small bump and morning sickness for so long

-To your surprise... he was furious.

-You knew he would have a lot of different emotions coming out. Hell, you did too, but the way he snapped... the way he yelled at you.

-"Are you fucking serious?? Please tell me your fucking with me girl!!"

-You couldn't tell if your tears were because of him yelling or if it was the pregnancy hormones already coming out to play. 

-You were a puddle on the floor as you watched him pace back and forth. Yelling terrible things, things that you were never even sure he was capable of saying.

-The worst thing he said... the worst thing he accused you of... was cheating.

-"It ain't mine!!! That's for damn sure!!"

-"Daryl your the only one i've been with since the end of the fucking world!! Plus you don't don't how to fucking pull out!!"

-"Nah... you've been hanging out with Spencer for a while!! Following him around like a damn puppy!"

-The whole argument ended with punched walls, slammed doors, and a sobbing you curled up on the floor.

-You hated it... But you started to think maybe he was exactly like his father. He sure seemed to act like it

-The worst part is he thought it too... but the only difference between them was he couldn't rid this ache deep in his chest every time he thought of your tear-filled eyes as he screamed.

-He cooled off for 2 weeks... he needed to. He needed to gather his thoughts, he needed to clear his head and make sure he came up with the best damn apology he could

-He eventually did. He picked flowers for you, made dinner, got down on his knees, and ate you out right on the kitchen table.

-That night he apolgized so much it was ingraved in your brain, even after all the fucking you did. 

-"I'm really sorry, y/n. I just... this is all so new and 'm scared I'm going to be like my old man. Ya deserve a good guy to raise a kid with and that baby does too... I think I'm just a little bit scared... I'm going to fuck this kid up."

-It was the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. That alone just proves how different he was from his dad... or any man that would ever do the things he did to his child.

-After that, Daryl was always with you. He stopped going on runs and on long hunting trips. He was literally connected to you. It was almost suffocating, but it was nice to have him around and not run away every chance he got.

-The very rare times he did go on runs, it was just for you.

-The stores he would scope out, he made sure to go to the mommy/baby sections first and take whatever contraptions he could

-One time he brought home headphones that go around your stomach to play music for the baby.

-"Daryl... why does the baby need music?"

-"Guess it's supposed to increase brain waves or some shit?? I don't know a woman!"

-He made sure you were as comfortable as you could be. He ran baths for you and helped you bathe, he would give you massages, and he would allow you to use him as a body pillow.

-You had him wrapped around your finger... but he couldn't deny that he loved it

-Of course he was also your personal sex toy!! Even when you were all big and pregnant.

-Any and every time you needed him, he was there for you.

-Sometimes you could only ride him; that's the only position your big belly allowed you. So Daryl would just lie down, one hand on your hip and the other in yours so you could balance... He would just watch you thrust and buck down on him as if you were a goddess walking the earth.

-"Feel good, baby? Are you hurting?"

-"Mhhh... fuck! No, please... keep... f.... keep your hips like that!"

-Sometimes you couldn't even do all that you were so big. So Daryl would lay you down, a pillow underneath your hip, and he would thrust into you so softly. yet he would still have you cumming within minutes.

-You and Daryl both decorate the nursery. There wasn't much of a theme due to the lack of baby decorations in the end of the world. But you did your best, making sure it was gender neutral due to the lack of knowledge about the gender.

-You also had so much help from the community, like so much that it was kind of like the group's baby more than it was yours

-Carol was like your damn mentor, she made sure you knew what you were getting yourself into

-"Breastfeeding would probably be best for you, I mean there's only so much formula.... and if you're already leaking then that's a good sign!! But just in case, make sure you are massaging and lotioning your nipples every night... You can even have Daryl stimulate them during sex. Just to keep them flowing and not clogging up on you!"

-You just asked about baby bottles....

-Glenn, Maggie, Rick, and Michonne all gave you hand-me-downs from their kids. Like you had a mountain of clothes by the time you were 5 months.

-There were times when the pregnancy got so overwhelming for you... like just the exhaustion and the aches and pains and the insecurity, causing you to break down in tears.

-Daryl would hold you, rubbing your stomach softly while you cried into his neck.

-"Honey... you are doing so good. You will be such a good mom... This kid is lucky to have you, I know I couldn't carry a child the way you do."

-He was never good with words, never good with emotions... but something about seeing you all pregnant made him so vulnerable. Suddenly he was a damn poet...

-You were forbidden to set foot outside of Alexandria. Like literally forbidden... even from the group?!? As if you'd want to go out there...

-But of course, you complained about it, you couldn't let your pregnancy make you soft

-The birth was kind of crazy, very unexpected and very fucking crazy

-Your water broke, Daryl rushed you over to the medic. Suddenly, Michonne was holding one of your hands, and Daryl was holding the other. Rick was throwing instruments to Maggie, who for some reason, was delivering the baby. Carol was helping, then Eugene was in there, then Glenn, hell, why not have Abraham in there as well!

-But it didn't matter because 20 minutes into pushing, your baby was in your arms.

-You were very similar to Daryl in the "I don't think I'll be a good parent" department. But at that moment, looking down at your newborn... You knew you would do anything for them.

-For the first couple of days, you spent at the medic to make sure everything was good... in those first couple of days, Daryl refused to hold the kid.

-He seemed to think he would break them, they were so fragile and frail... his hands were so rough that he felt he would turn them to dust by simply touching them. However, he was always around, always watching and making sure they were okay.

-One day, you got frustrated with it, even if you were trying to be as understanding as you could. You had just pushed out a 7 pound baby with Daryl's big ass head, you needed Daryl to hold them when you needed to pee, okay??

-You pulled him over to your bed one day, sitting him down and handing him the baby.

-"Woah!! woah Y/N!!"

-"Shush!! You're gonna startle them... Here, just support their head... There you go..."

-He melted immediately, almost surprised that they didn't break from him merely holding them. It was a touching moment, almost like the world clicked for Daryl

-After that, the baby was attached to Daryl... you didn't mind, you got some good naps.

-Daryl was a good dad, no... he was a great fucking dad. Not to mention him being the best co-parent out there.

-Like you always got a full night's rest because Daryl refused to let you get up to get the baby.

-When you were stressed, almost crying on the floor because the baby would not stop crying, Daryl would take the baby from you, give you a soft kiss and tell you to take a nice shower.

-Daryl would make you meals while you tried to get the baby down for a nap or bedtime.

-It's almost like Daryl's years of hunting and living out in the forest prepared him for this in a weird way. Days without sleep, thrown-together meals, no time to focus on himself.

-Daryl talked so softly to the baby too, he was still very afraid to hurt them because of how small they were. So he used his softest voice when speaking to them.

-"You're a hungry little thing, huh?? Aren't you, sweetheart... yeah..."

-"Oohh Shhh... It's okay, honey. Daddy's here..."

-"Is that mommy?? yeah?? You wanna say hi to mommy??"

-He definitely calls the baby "Bug", "Bunny", and "honey"... and yes, "Sweetheart" as well. Idk it just fits him

-He loves calling himself daddy and you mommy. I feel like this is nonsexual too, like it just makes him giddy thinking y'all have a baby together.

-Unfortunately, he does need to leave on runs sometimes because he is like the only one who can track, so the group needs him. He hates it though, he hates being away from his kid.

-When he gets back, he won't put the kid down, man.... he makes sure to tell the baby all about his trips though. You could listen to him talk to the baby for hours.

-"Daddy rode his bike all the way back home with Uncle Rick on his bike!! Even though daddy almost flung him off the back of it many times.... what?" He said, watching you stare at him from afar.

"Nothing... nothing at all, Dixon." You said, smiling down at the dishes you were doing.

-Of course Daryl still makes time for you, no matter how busy he is... he doesn't care. He has to give the mother of his child love too.

-After the baby was asleep and he knew the baby would STAY asleep... he had you on that bed.

-Daryl was much softer now. Long drawn-out session with eye contact and soft caresses... he was a dad now, he was just softer in every aspect.

-However, daryl dixon is still the wild and dirty fucker he has always been. So if there ever is a time where you just need to be fucked nice and good, or even a time when daryl KNOWS you need to be fucked nice and good... trust he will.

-Like one time, you were so very stressed out. The baby would not go down for bed, the laundry needed to be folded, the dishes had piled up from dinner, one of your milk ducts was clogged, your hair hadn't been brushed for days... you were a tired mom.

-Daryl noticed it as soon as he got home; the stress just radiated off of you.

-He took the baby from you, rocking them gently as he ghosted his lips over your ear.

-"Go to the bedroom... I'll be there when I get the baby to sleep."

-It was not a suggestion, it was a demand, and you were not going to pass up on that.

-It was 2 hours of pure Daryl... a couple of breaks in between so Daryl could check on the baby, but other than that it was just him.

-I'm talking, rope, spankings, choking, praising mixed with some degradation, folding you in half, soft kisses, and face being pushed into the mattress so you wouldn't wake the baby.

-You were feeling much better after that :)

-I just want to draw some attention to domestic Daryl :) Like Daryl doing laundry or dishes while you take care of the baby.

-Watching the kid grow up was hard for Daryl, like really hard... because they were so small only a year ago?!?! Why are they talking and walking now?

-He would be so excited to show you how they walk or a new word he taught them.

-"Go on, bug!! tell mommy!!" He said, excitedly holding the baby up to you as you folded the never-ending laundry.

-"f... f... fr.. oog.. froog" your baby would struggle out.

-Fortunately, everyone loved the baby!! So you had babysitters for days.

-Sometimes, carols would come over just so y'all could get some actual sleep or just a decent shower.

-Birthdays are always big for the baby, since they are your first, obviously y'all are going full on out!

-Daryl made you dress up like a princess one year and, surprisingly, got Rick into a dinosaur costume another year!

-The baby had made you both so much softer around the edges, but that did not mean you two weren't still capable of the things you were before. I would say it made it even worse, the lengths you two would go to keep that baby safe...

-There was a raider you came in contact with on a run, it was all fun and games till he brought your kid up. A rage rushed over you, and you were this hungry monster, hitting and stabbing whatever you could because no one brings up your kid like that...

-The kid was NEVER allowed outside the walls until they hit 13... that was an agreement you both made very early on when you guys had seen the innocence the child radiated. You promised to keep them that way as long as you could.

-There were nights when Daryl would get quiet, like really quiet and you weren't used to that, especially now. So when you would ask if he was okay, he would kind of shrug it off... but when he eventually opened up, it left him a shaking mess.

-"I'm just thinking about my old man..."

-"Daryl, honey... You're nothing like that. You know that, right?"

-"Yeah... yeah, no I know. I just... I look at that baby and I think, how could anyone do that to a child? Did I do something? Was I made differently?"

-The whole him having a kid thing really sent him down a spiral of his abusive childhood. Not only was he scared of becoming his father, but he was scared of the things his father had done.

-When Daryl got frustrated or angry at your kid, he would have to walk away... not that he would ever hurt them, but the slight possibility that he could snap, even just yelling... he wasn't taking chances.

-Sometimes the thought of his father made him so paranoid that he would become distant, needing space to just clear his mind because he can't be a father if he feels like everything he touches will get burned...

-You just let him have his time, making sure to be soft with him when he comes around again.

-In conclusion, Daryl is very traumatized... he's hurt and sometimes it all gets too much for him but that doesn't mean he won't try to be the best damn father out there.

-The baby just does not stop growing and before you guys know it, they're now a child with thoughts and words.

-Of course they grow up to look exactly like Daryl, same blue eyes and brown hair.... asshole wouldn't let your kid have any of your genes.

-You would think having a baby would be harder than having a child, but you would be wrong.

-There is so much that comes with having a child!! They need constant stimulation or they go insane. So your house is always a mess, toys scattered everywhere, dirty clothes, snacks they forgot to eat... not to mention Daryl's crossbows.

-Daryl gets down on the floor to play with your kid, acting out funny little scenarios with they're action figures or letting them put makeup on him.

-Bedtime stories are a must! And luckily, Daryl is very good at telling a good story.

-Daryl being a good father gets all hot and bothered, like it makes your heart flutter and your stomach twists and turns...

-As soon as the kid falls asleep, you are on Daryl, man. Like a wild animal, probably even more eager and needy than before you had a kid.

-"Woah there.... I guess princess wizards and talking donkeys really get you going, huh?"

-"Jesus christ Dixon... shut up and fuck me."

-Even though quickies have been a more common occurrence nowadays, Daryl still loves his drawn-out love-making sessions. He likes to take his time on you, likes to worship the body that brought his favorite human into the world.

-He also makes sure you KNOW you're beautiful and he still loves you, stretch marks and baby fat and wider hips and all... he thinks you're the most sexy person ever.

-"So pretty... so fucking pretty baby... you're glowing..."

-"Look at those hips bunny... makes me wanna fill you up with another one..."

-"No, no... let me see that tummy baby... Look at that, so soft..."

-He's just very understanding surprisingly, like he just knows how your post-pregnancy body has you feeling. So he makes sure he does what he can to make you feel better.

-Daryl helps the kid with their homework, math and science... he tries to help at least. He usually gets frustrated because how did math change all of a sudden?

-"No, daddy! The triangle has 4 faces! but 3 sides...."

-"How the hell..." He sighs, throwing the pencil down in defeat. "Alright...You win kid, guess I owe you ice cream huh?"

-Daryl is very protective of his kid, man... I can not say this enough because this man will literally break someone's jaw for looking at his kid wrong.

-"A kid in my class told me I had weird teeth," your kid said sadly at dinner one night.

-"What?? Did you beat the shit out of them? You better have! What about their dad?? Can their dad fight? Cause I swear to god, when I get my h..."

-"Daryl!!" You had to step in because you knew he could go on and on with his threats.

-After that, Daryl taught your kid how to stand up for themselves... The "redneck way" he explained it. It was basically just throwing punches and bringing up their mother.

-School nights at the Dixon residence are never boring. Trying to get your kid to take a bath and get them in bed is almost more impossible than trying to get Daryl to do the same. Definitely their father's kid man...

-One night on a school night, you were making dinner while your kid did their homework. You were so focused on getting the recipe for "butter squash soup" that you didn't realize Daryl was coming up behind you.

-You giggled softly as his hands found your hips, his lips found your neck and he swayed you both softly. It was a romantic moment, the first slow moment you had all day it seemed... until you heard a squeaky, "EWWWW"

-You kid laughed out, covering their eyes as they jokingly gagged.

-"What?!? I can't love on mommy?!?"

-"No!! That's gross!! Mommy has cooties now!!"

-"Oh cooties huh?? Oh so daddy has cooties..." He said as he lunged at the kid, engulfing them into a hug and covering their little face with kisses.

-The night ended with you and Daryl sneaking out of your kid's room after they had fallen asleep, one last look just to make sure they were still asleep

-"Let's have another one..." You whispered to Daryl as you watched the kids soft breathing.

-"Well... what mommy wants, mommy gets." Daryl says, dragging you off into the bedroom.

[tinysunshine]

━━━━━ ✧˖° 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

warnings: mentions of a possible abusive relationship, mentions of sexual situations, hints of past drug use, implied age difference, very feminine! reader

word count: ~2k

shane doesn’t deserve you.

you love shane. 

well, you did. do? you’re not sure. as much as you obsess over your feelings for him, there isn’t enough time to actually come up with an answer. every single day is all about survival - what to eat, how to stay away from walkers, where the group is going to sleep. 

it’s exhausting, but the fact that you even have these questions about shane shows you how lucky you are. your grandmother used to say that problems meant you were privileged, although these days, you’re not so sure about that. 

because right now, your socks are wet, your favorite sweater has a stain on it, you’re more hungry than you’ve been in weeks, and you can’t even properly unpack what little belongings you have in your tent because the entire group will likely not be staying at the greene farm for much longer. 

fuck your fucking life. 

you just want to cry. the day has hardly started, and you literally just want to die. you’re not suicidal, just overwhelmed, and the shit going on between you and shane is not making your life any easier. maybe that's a good enough reason to end things with him altogether. 

you tried to talk to lori about it, but she acted all weird. told you to stay far away from shane, but her tone was hard to read and - whatever. you tried to talk to maggie about it, and she’s nice, friendly. but her advice was just to never speak to him again. unlikely. 

beth is too young to know anything about men, and glenn practically ran away from you when you tried to open up. carol’s too passive to tell you what she really thinks, and andrea and everyone else has the same opinion - leave shane alone. it’s so fucked up, because part of the problem is that he can’t leave you alone. asshole. 

stupidly sexy, tough, strong, good at kissing, good at fucking - ugh, shane really is an asshole. 

you fell in love with shane so fast. you’d had plenty of boyfriends back before the world went to shit, but they were nothing like shane. you don’t know much about the way shane was before all of this, but you do know that he likes to get his hands dirty. likes to be in charge. wants to be in charge, and truth be told, he has the potential to be a good leader…

so long as rick isn’t around. 

shane was such an amazing leader before rick joined the camp. really - he provided and organized and was so trustworthy, you’re pretty sure you blew him everyday to thank him for all the shit he did for the group. for you. 

from the minute the rest of the group found you, shane took you under his wing. you’d been in college when the world went to shit, so and were nowhere near your family. when the walkers started popping up on your campus and city, you fled with some friends, but most of them died along the way. when the group found you, you were all alone on the highway. starving. nearly dead. wishing to just die. 

but everyone was so kind, especially shane. so strong, the way he picked you up and brought you to a camper to let you rest up while a few of the others watched over you. you don’t remember it because you were so out of it when they found you, but you remember how it felt to be in his arms.

he was so nice, when he gave you food and let you sleep in his tent because you didn’t have one of your own yet. so safe, when you eventually found your way into his arms in that tent. 

and then, as it goes - he eventually found his way into you. which you wanted. god, you wanted it, from the moment you saw him on that highway with biceps so big they looked larger than your head.

and, okay - you can’t say that you hate his macho, mood swinging attitude. it’s sexy. at times. it’s dangerous. and you love when he loses his shit and he takes it out on you. drags you into the woods, or offers to carry you on his back. fucks you while holding you up against a tree, or pushes you down to the itchy grass of the ground and pounds you until your throw your head back and your ears ring.

you love shane. loved? but ever since rick came back and the group made it to the farm, he’s different. 

“fuck you snifflin’ for? not even lunchtime yet. what the hell d’ya have to be upset about this early?” the comment takes you out of your thoughts, and you stop picking at a loose thread on your pink, fucking wet sock. 

you know who it is. it’s daryl. he’s always giving you a hard time - at least in comparison to the way everyone else in the group treats you. everyone else treats you like something fragile, while daryl, and okay, shane, treat you like they’re not afraid you’re going to break. or maybe they just don’t care.

“i’m upset because i hate my fucking life. what, do you like living like this? is there anything to smile about?” you’ve know daryl for awhile now, and this banter is just what you two do. he scoffs at what you say, and he busies himself behind you but you refuse to look and see what he’s doing. you’re that stubborn. 

“sounds like you should just die, then. you want me to shoot you right here?” you cannot believe he just said that, and you can’t control it now. you’re sitting in the middle of the camp on a plastic chair that maggie dragged out for the group a few days ago, surrounded by tents and the cars and the camper. you’re sweaty and hot and miserable with a wet sock from stepping in the wrong place when trying to avoid a pile of mud (you’ve got sensory issues, okay) - and now daryl is offering to kill you? 

you know he’s got dark humor, but you can’t help it today. you’re sensitive. shane woke up in an amazing mood - kissed you and fucked you, muttered the three words you’d been waiting to hear from him into your ear while he came inside of you, and he promised he’d just fucking listen to rick today. to hershel. he promised. 

but then, at breakfast, he got into it with rick. you love shane, but surely he can see that rick is better equipped to be the leader of the group? he’s got his family to think about, and hershel actually respects him. 

but no - shane couldn’t handle it. he got angry, yelled at rick and shoved at him, then fucked off in a car with andrea all the while you ate a bruised apple and felt his cum leaking out of you. everyone looked at you - but you’re not sure what emotion was on their face. pity? or even worse, do they think you could ever possibly even try control shane? 

yeah, right. 

and then you stepped in a fucking puddle. god, you just want to sleep forever. 

“daryl,” you finally say, turning to glare at him while he rummages around in the basket of fruit that beth brought over this morning. so that’s what he’s doing. “fuck you.” 

daryl grabs a peach out of the basket. it looks like he wants to say something with the way his lip twitches, but he’s unsure - ultimately though, he speaks. 

fucking dick. 

“try talkin’ like that to that boyfriend of yours. he’s fuckin’ crazy, you know that, don’t ya?” 

you want to snap something back, but you literally can’t think that quick. you’re so fucking embarassed at the fact that other people have witnessed the fights you and shane get in. well, the fights shane starts that you just try to ignore, but it’s getting increasingly harder because he’s getting increasingly more mean. 

your face heats. you know what daryl is implying. if you can be bitchy to him, why can’t you give shane a hard time when he fucks with you in front of the entire group? 

“stay out of this, sweetheart,” shane will say, whenever you give an opinion or share an idea with the group. “lucky you’re so pretty, you know,” he said the other day, when you tripped over a big branch while on a walk. you two weren’t alone. “not much goin’ on in that head of yours. helps to be pretty.” and the list goes on and on. shane always has a backhanded comment, or a rough hand pulling you or pushing you somewhere. it’s mortifying, but with so much else going on, it’s easy to push the urgency of those things away. 

because shane takes care of you. and he loves you, right? he said it today. that’s got to count for something. 

great. you’re crying. maybe shane was right when he called you immature the other day, for reasons you don’t even remember. maybe you’re so immature, you still love this man when you should hate him. maybe -  

“oh, shit. yer cryin’? damnit,” daryl mutters, and you hear him say something about how he doesn’t have time for this, but truth be told, all there is these days is time. too much of it. not enough of it. you don’t even have a fucking clock, so. 

you hate your life. 

“‘m not crying because of you, meanie,” you say, wiping the tears spilling from your eyes. you’re glad shane is gone and that everyone else fucked off too. you’re not upset that shane didn’t take you with him, even if he was being a nightmare -

except you are.

as usual, daryl did his own thing and you hid in your tent to avoid doing anything, and now you don’t know where anyone is and you can’t find carol to see if she can get the stain out of your sweater, and why does life suck so bad? 

daryl hesitates but sits down next to you. on the ground. “should probably shut up,” he says, with kindness evident in his tone. you almost laugh, but you don’t. daryl continues. 

“cheer up. you wanna go for a walk or somethin’? should be pretty safe if we stay where the trees aren’t so dense,” you’re hardly listening to what daryl is saying, because all you hear is shane’s voice in your head telling you that you’re not allowed to leave the camp or the farm unless he’s with you. 

he said that when you were going to join rick and andrea one day, and you wondered if it was a little controlling but you brushed it off and just assumed it was because he was worried about you. which is valid. he loves you (he says), and you don’t make it easy on yourself with the way you present. 

pink socks and lilac sneakers and a sweatshirt with a picture of a bunny on it. a cashmere sweater that you can’t even think about parting with. clips in your hair and stained cheeks and lips that you’re only able to have because you found some berries. you’re reminded that when shane tried to kiss the berry taste off your lips, talked about how fuckin’ cute you are, that daryl and rick walked by and got mad at you for wasting food. some fucking life. 

you answer daryl. “i can’t,” you go to make an excuse, but daryl scoffs like he’s disgusted. 

“yeah, yeah. ‘cause of your fuckin’ old man,” but you cut him off and wrinkle your nose. it’s gross to hear daryl talk about shane like that. your old man. 

yuck. 

“he’s not,” but daryl cuts you off again. it’s comforting, in a way. you don’t know what it is, just - something about daryl dixon is like a heavy dose of xanax for your soul. 

which is what you need right now, truth be told. you sigh. 

“he’s too old for you. fuckin’ crazy bastard. yer too young, too sensitive,” but this time, you get angry. you shake your head. 

“does anybody ever have anything nice to say about me? too this, too that. i’m so fucking sick of -”

daryl stands. 

“too cute. too pretty, ya brat. jesus,” he grumbles. you sit in silence for a moment, trying not to let out another laugh when daryl finally bites into his peach and starts slurping it for some dramatic reason. it’s funny. daryl’s so….daryl. but you’re still trying to recover from his compliments. 

a few moments later, shane’s car pulls up. and that bitch andrea is right next to him, grinning? you tense up, and when shane gets out of the car, daryl says one more thing before walking off. 

“don’t owe him shit, you know,” he says. “know you talk about your love story all the fuckin’ time. how you met. but he wasn’t the one that carried you that day we found you on the highway, anyway.“

you think about what it’d taste like to kiss daryl with peach juice on his lips.

[zomquette]

Let Em' Dream

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader

Genre: Protective Daryl / established relationship / Angst & Comfort / Survival Tension / Flirty Banter

Warnings: Language, tense power dynamics, creepy men (Claimers, ew), implied past trauma, protective behavior, mild violence, emotional vulnerability, implied sexy vibes but no smut.

Summary: You and Daryl joined the Claimers for safety. That safety came with a price. Leers, comments, tension you can cut with a knife. But you’re not weak—and you’re not alone. Daryl’s love language might be grunts and glares, but when it comes to keeping you safe, he’s louder than words.

Era: Post-Prison / Pre-Terminus

Long-ass Author’s Note: I really wanted to write a fic involving the Claimers because… well, no one really does. And when they do, it’s often the same tired formula: the reader is heavily objectified, used as a plot device to elevate the male character or trigger protective instincts. That kind of storytelling not only feels lazy but can be genuinely harmful. It reduces women to props for drama and reinforces the idea that being mistreated is somehow part of the fantasy. That’s not what I wanted here.

I know—it’s just a fic. A silly little story. But even in these kinds of spaces, the way we write about objectification and misogyny matters. I didn’t want to center the reader’s value in how much pain she could endure or how much she needed saving. I wanted her to be capable, complex, angry, soft, and human. And yeah, I couldn’t resist adding a bit of fluff at the end too. Sue me.

On a more personal note, this fic hit close to home. The kind of treatment the reader faces here—subtle, persistent, exhausting—is something I (and so many other women and girls) know all too well. It’s isolating. It makes you second-guess your own instincts. And sometimes, you forget that it’s not your fault. I wish someone had told me that earlier. So if you’re reading this and any of it resonates—please know you’re not alone. None of this is okay, and it never was.

Anyway, I’ll shut up now. Hope you enjoy. :)

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It was the kind of cold that settled in your teeth. Dry air, dry land. Smoke from a cooking fire clung to your jacket like something alive, and every step crunched like bone underfoot.

You stayed close to the tree line while Daryl walked ahead, crossbow slung low on his back, posture half-feral. The others trailed nearby—Joe, Len, Billy, and whatever stragglers they'd picked up since the last camp. The Claimers. They called themselves that with pride, like they weren't just scavengers with vocabulary.

They weren’t so bad at first. Talkative. Friendly. The kind of friendliness that came with teeth.

You and Daryl joined up a few days ago. Not by choice - not really. You needed the strength in numbers if you guys wanted to sleep at night without two eyes open. It was simply smarter to travel in groups, or at least that's what you kept telling yourself. The rules were simple: don’t take what’s been claimed, and don’t walk away.

That last one was never spoken aloud. But you could feel it, like being circled by wolves that hadn’t decided whether to bare their teeth. This was only temporary. This first chance we get we are hightailing it and we never see these assfucks again. You could only dream of that moment for now.

The nights were the worst. You always woke up before sunrise, not from noise, but from the quiet. The wrong kind. Like someone holding their breath near your ear.

You felt eyes on you. Not Daryl’s. His, you were used to. His gaze was steady, grounding, always followed by the warmth of his palm finding yours under the blanket.

No, the others were different.

Joe had a habit of watching too long and saying too little when it came to you. Always quiet, always smiling, always sitting just close enough to be noticed. Len, on the other hand, didn't hide his thoughts. He'd whistle when you walked by, crack jokes about "needing a good woman to stick around." The worst was Billy, who once asked if Daryl "shared well."

You laughed it off, quickly stepping in front of Daryl so he wouldn't tear the guy's eyes out. Sure, that would be fun to watch, but two against eight weren't odds you would gamble on. Besides, you knew that was what they wanted; to see you snap - that would be like stepping into a trap. And at this rate, Daryl would be at his breaking point sooner or later.

But every word, every look, chipped away at your reserve. You started wearing Daryl's clothes over your own, stopped washing your hair so often, and kept your gun closer than usual. You felt like you were betraying yourself, smothering who you were to appease others. This wasn't you; cowering under others' stares while you shrug your hood over your face. No, you would think let em' dream while you strutted by them, swaying your hips like Shakira. And if someone did decide to be dumb and mouth off, you would show them why that was dumb - no need for scary boyfriend Daryl to shoo them away. Maybe everything really was weighing down on you; the loss of the prison, of Hershel, of your group, of… Beth. Maybe that person was left behind at the prison, and here you were left trying to scramble for the pieces, rithing at how vulnerable you felt… it made you sick with fury.

And Daryl felt it, too.

He noticed the change in you. The way your body tensed when someone said your name. The way you touched his arm a second longer when someone else was near. He didn’t need you to say it out loud. He didn’t need to see it happen. He knew, and it twisted something in him.

He wasn’t used to this—to feeling this much. He didn’t always have the words for it, didn’t even always understand it himself. But when it came to you, it showed up in the way he watched. The way he kept near and his eyes stayed on the backs of men too long, like he was calculating angles.

He knew you could handle yourself. Had seen it. Trusted it. That wasn’t why he hovered. It was because his body didn’t know how not to. Because loving you made his instincts loud, louder than they’d ever been. Protection wasn’t a comment on your strength. It was a confession of his. That he couldn’t bear to lose the one thing that made this hell of a world feel like something worth enduring.

The air of your camp for the night had the taste of rust and smoke, thick with campfire. A good place as any - being in the woods was better than out in the open on the road. You excused yourself quietly, weaving through the abandoned, rusty cars that some of the guys had settled into, and stepped over the metal wiresu descended into the woods for some privacy surrounding the makeshift camp, which created a perimeter as yo. Daryl watched you go with a look that said everything—be quick, be careful, be back. 

You felt him before you heard him. Len.

The crunch of leaves behind you was too heavy, definitely intentional. You slowed after a few minutes of walking, every nerve on alert, gaze sweeping the shadows. It was a full moon tonight, silver light catching on the blade at your belt. At least you weren't caught with your pants down. 

“Didn’t think we were doin’ shifts,” you called out flatly, not turning around.

He chuckled behind you, smug and slow. “Just makin’ sure a lady like yourself doesn’t get turned around. It’s dangerous out here.”

You turned. Not startled. Not shaken. Just done. So done with this bullshit. The apocalypse was so effective in wiping out most of the population, why couldn't it have included the entitled pricks like shit-for-brains here?

Len had his thumbs hooked in his belt loops like he owned the night air itself. You stood your ground, arms crossed, weight shifted to one hip.

“You got about three seconds to turn around and walk back to camp," you said, voice cold. "Or I start making souvenirs outta your fingers."

He smiled, eyebrows raising, taking a step closer.

"Oooh," he drawled. "Small thing talks a big game."

"You'd be surprised what a small thing like me can do with such a small tool,” you shot back, taking out your knife to admire it. “Course you know all about that, don't ya, Lenny?”

“C’mon now,” he said, mock-wounded. “We've been travelling companions together, ain’t we? Breakin’ bread, sharin’ fire. That’s gotta mean somethin’.”

“Oh sure. It means i havent slit your throat yet,” you replied, flashing your dazzling smile and twirling your knife.

He didn’t laugh this time.

You saw it then—the flicker of frustration. The way men like him hate being reminded they’re not owed anything. Especially not you.

He moved fast, hand going to your arm.

Your knife was faster. Your leg shot out and swept his leg from under him when it came into contact with the back of his, making him take a knee. It happened so fast, he went from reaching for your arm to now kneeling with you behind him. Oh, and the small tool you mentioned earlier was now pressed against his neck so harshly it was like you were going to peel his skin off like a potato.

“Try that again,” you say quietly into his ears, sending shivers down his spine. “I dare you.”

He blinked, neck taut against the blade, and for the first time, Len looked small.

“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble,” he muttered.

“No?” you snapped, voice going slightly higher, effectively taunting him with the situation he was in. A chick has you by the throat, gonna cry bitch boy? “Well then, don’t go sniffin’ where you’re not wanted. I ain't a prize, and I sure as hell ain’t yours.”

You pressed the knife just enough to nick the skin, drawing some blood. A sweet reminder for later.

Then you stepped back, shoving him into the dirt to tower above him.

“And you can go ahead and tell your little buddies that, too. You want someone to own get a damn dog.”

Len didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just lay there, butt hurt trying to process what just happened, lips thin, pride in tatters.

You walked away first, and you didn’t look back. And for the first time in a while, when turning in for the night, you didn't feel like you had something weighing on your chest.

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The car creaked gently as the wind rocked it. Daryl’s arms had settled heavily around your shoulders, spooning you in the backseat, one hand tracing slow lines along your arm. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t peaceful either. It hovered, like both of you were trying to name something you’d carried too long.

You shifted against him, voice barely above the hum of cicadas. “It’s weird, y’know? The world ended, and for a while… men weren’t the main problem anymore. Just walkers. Just hunger. Then suddenly, it’s back. That same old look. The kind that makes your skin crawl.” 

Your eyes glued to the car ceiling, lost in thought. Part of you didn't wanna say these things to him. Wouldn't it just make him sad? It was one thing to feel completely helpless as a woman in a disgustingly testosterone environment; the last thing you needed was a pity party. But that wasn't how Daryl worked. “Makes you think… maybe it’s better to be hungry than desirable.” 

He didn’t speak right away. Just rubbed his thumb along your arm, like he could erase the tension coiled there.

“You think you’re past it,” you added, voice so quiet it was just short of a whisper. “Then someone stares too long, or gets too close, and it’s like muscle memory. You always watch for it, and the moment you catch on, everything just stops. And you think ‘how the fuck am i gonna get out of here?’ and that feeling hasnt left since we got stuck with these assholes”

Daryl didn’t need you to explain it — he’d already seen it in the way you were always on edge around the Claimers. And still, hearing it cracked something in him. It was one thing to know you were tense — it was another to know you were expecting it. Bracing for it like it was routine. You had to prepare yourself for the way men looked at you. The idea that those bastards had you scanning exits, holding your breath — that they got to live in your mind rent-free like that — it made him sick. You were the best thing in this goddamn world. Tough, loyal, quick as hell, and his — which he still had trouble wrapping his head around half the time. And still, they had the audacity to think about you like that. To make you feel like something to be claimed. He didn’t know how to carry that — didn’t know how to fix it — but he’d be damned if he let you carry it alone.

“Merle used to say somethin’,” he said finally, breaking the heavy silence. “Said, ‘Ain’t nobody gonna care for you but me.’ Like… that was supposed to be enough. Like givin’ a damn made you weak.”

You turned your body to look up at him slowly, your brow furrowed.

“I believed him,” Daryl admitted. “For a long time, I did. Thought the only way to survive was keepin’ your distance. Keepin’ everybody out.”

His hand moved from your arm to your back, warm and steady.

“But you… You make me wanna stay close. Make me wanna care. And I ain’t scared of that no more. Not if it means ya feel safe… Not if it means I can carry some of that for you.”

Your throat went tight—not because you were afraid, but because it was the first time in a long time that someone wanted to share the weight.

You leaned into him, letting your forehead find it’s place in the crook of his neck.

“I gotcha,” he murmured, rubbing your back. “Long as I’m breathin’, ain’t nobody layin’ a hand on ya.”

You huffed a soft laugh against his skin. “Kinda melodramatic, Dixon. ‘Ain’t nobody touchin ma woman ya hear?!’.” you mocked in a hushed voice, face scrunching exactly like his signature scowl.

He grunted, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… you bring it outta me.” 

He hugged you tighter, his arms closing around your frame and locking you to him in the most wonderful way and kissed your head as he nuzzled into your hair. 

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The morning air was crisp, tinged with dew and the fading smoke of last night’s fire. You wandered down to the creek with a change of clothes tucked under your arm and sleep still clinging to your bones. It was rare to be alone these days, but you needed a moment. The water was cold, biting at your fingers as you crouched by the edge and scrubbed the grime from your skin. You let out a slow breath, staring at your reflection. Jeez, I look like a Tim Burton character.

Behind you, Daryl lingered.

He was meant to be back at camp, but he stayed just a few metres away by a tree, crossbow slung on his shoulder, eyes never leaving your form. Watching, but not invading. There was a quiet reverence in the way he kept his distance. Not because he thought you needed protecting, but because he needed to know he was there if things went sideways.

And things almost did.

Two of the Claimers had peeled away from the group. They tiptoed away from them and made their way towards the creek. Towards you. Their faces dropped instantly when instead of finding you, they found a irratable redneck. One of them let out a short laugh that didn’t reach his eyes, and Daryl’s stance shifted.

“You best turn around,” he said before they got too close.

The two men froze. One of them — a lanky guy with a toothpick — tried to play it off with a smirk.

“We ain’t doin’ nothin’,” he said, face blank.

“Didn’t ask what you were doin’. I said turn around.”

The tension stretched thin as fishing wire.

The bigger of the two men — the one with the beer-can crush of a face — squared his shoulders like he thought he had something to prove. “You always this twitchy, Dixon? She’s just takin’ a bath.”

Daryl stepped forward. “And you’re just about ready to take bolt to the ass. So, unless you wanna get an extra hole, I suggest you walk.”

That did it. They backed off, muttering curses under their breath, but Daryl didn’t move until the last boot crunched out of sight.

You walked back over, hair dripping and a towel hanging off your shoulder, oblivious to the tension that had just slunk off into the trees.

Daryl was leaned against a tree like he’d been relaxing the whole damn time — one foot crossed over the other, arms folded, face like stone.

“Everything alright?” you chirped, side-eyeing him as you wrung water from your ends.

“Uh huh,” he said, nodding once. “Just enjoyin’ the view.”

You paused. “…The creek?”

He smirked, eyes skating over your figure. “Among other things.”

You narrowed your eyes, smiling as you stalked towards him. “That right?”

“Mhmm,” he muttered, straightening up. “Nature’s real pretty this time of mornin’.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, shaking your head. Then — crack — you snapped the towel against his thigh with a mischievous grin.

He jerked back. “The hell, woman?!”

“That’s for being a creep,” you laughed, already backing up.

He lunged like he might chase you, but you squealed and darted ahead. “Don’t start nothin’ you can’t finish-” he hollered after you, boots thudding in pursuit.

You glanced back with a grin. “Baby, I finish everything I start. You of all people should know that”

“Don’t go bringin’ that up unless you’re plannin’ on finishin’ somethin’ right now.”  He closed in on you, shoulders now relaxed. “cmon, I'm hungry for breakfast.” He motioned for you to walk beside him, playfully patting your ass to move, which of course earned him a scowl from you. "You better be talking about game, Dixon. I ain't servin' up anything else." You looked over to him to see his face, now sporting a cunning smile, and that look in his eyes which you only saw when you guys were alone. You dropped your head in disbelief, a big smile growing on your face as you whipped him with your towel again. "keep dreamin' Dixon."

The earlier tension was now forgotten, or at least tucked behind the sly grin he wore only for you.

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Let me know what you think 🥴🤭

[twd-bee3]

Stay - Alternate Ending

Summary: After running into a hostile group of scavengers, you were shot while covering for Daryl, and it nearly cost you your life.

Warnings/Tags: violence, gunshot wound, blood loss, near-death experience, trauma, HEAVY angst, canon level of gore, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season ten, no use of y/n

Word count: 1k

A/N: Here's my last post, but rewritten with a happy ending. Sorry for wrecking you all with the original piece. Just know that I do it out of love <3 For those asking for more Daryl angst, please be specific so I can write something for y'all.

The sound of gunfire splintered the air, and everything blurred around the two of you. This was supposed to be a simple supply run, but you had run into a hostile group. It was only you and Daryl, so things were getting dark fast. The couple had almost reached their cabin when there was another loud crack, and with you being in front of Daryl, you were hit by the stray.

You felt a sharp pain in your right side and cried out. Looking down, you saw the crimson blooming across your tank top and froze. “Oh shit.”

Hearing your pained gasp, Daryl spun you around so that he could look you over. He glanced down and saw the blood soaking your shirt. A cold sense of dread washed over him, and his eyes went wide.

“Fuck. No, no, no.”

“I don't know what to do, Daryl.”

You were taking labored breaths, and you were already starting to stumble. The shock was setting in fast, and Daryl was even more desperate to get you to safety. The last of the men was bound to find you two if you stayed where you were. Acting on pure instinct, he lifted you into his arms and started running again. He was careful not to drop you and clutched your body close to his chest.

“Stay with me, baby. You're okay. We're almost there.”

His words were rushed, and his voice was strained. It felt like it took hours, but you finally reached your home, and he made sure that it was clear of walkers. Daryl laid you on the couch and frantically tore your tank top to get a clearer view of the gunshot. It was deep, but it had a clear exit wound.

The blood was pouring from your abdomen, and he felt sick to his stomach at the sight of it. This was his girl, and she was bleeding out on their couch. Daryl used his hands to apply firm pressure, but the bleeding was relentless. Tears streamed down his face as he tried desperately to keep you with him.

“I got you, sweetheart. Just- just stay awake for me. You can do that, right?”

“I'm really tryin', but I'm tired. I'm so fuckin' tired, Daryl.”

“Don't say that. You're okay. I've got you.”

Daryl kept his palms pressed against your stomach and watched as the blood seeped through his fingers like water. He needed to stop the bleeding before he could even think about attempting to stitch you up. Knowing that he needed to do more, he took off his shirt and applied more force against the wound.

You were only growing paler, and your eyes kept fluttering shut. You were trying to be strong and keep them open, but it was increasingly becoming more difficult. The sight of his baby fading on him made his chest feel heavy. He couldn't give up, though.

“Hey, sweetheart. I need you to stay with me. Please. Talk or somethin'.”

Forcing your eyes open again, you nodded and let out a shaky exhale. “Okay. Can you tell me somethin' good?”

“Somethin' good?” It took him a moment, but he was able to think of something, and he smiled weakly. “Remember that trip we're supposed to take?”

“Yeah. You're gonna take me to Oceanside and we're gonna put our feet-” your words were cut off with a sharp gasp, but you pushed through and kept speaking softly. “Our feet in the water. Dog's comin' with us.”

Daryl's heart ached hearing how hard it was for you to speak, but he was proud of you for trying. You were making an effort to stay with him - that was all that he could ask for.

“Yeah, baby. We're all goin' to the beach. You ain't gettin' in the water, though. Your dumb ass ain't never learned to swim.”

His words were teasing, but his tone was forced. He was grasping at straws to keep you awake. Daryl looked back down at the wound to see that the bleeding had slowed, and he let out a small sigh of relief. You had lost an alarming amount of blood, but he was able to sew the wound shut.

Making sure that you were at least half-conscious, he let go of the shirt and reached over to grab the first aid kit that was already laid out on the table. Thankfully, you had left it out the last time that Daryl got injured.

“You ain't leavin' me tonight, alright? You fuckin' stay with me. This is gonna hurt like a bitch, but you're my strong girl.”

“I ain't feelin' strong. I'm so tired.”

“Shhh, I got you. You're okay, baby.”

If the situation were less dire, he would've given you something to bite down on, but he knew that you'd likely pass out as soon as he started the process. He took a deep breath to steady his hands and disinfected the wound. Daryl's movements were hurried and not as careful as he would've liked, but there was no time for caution.

Once the area was clean, he took a fresh needle, some thread, and a pair of medical pliers. He took a deep breath and pushed the needle into the jagged edges of your skin. You cried out once before your eyes rolled back, and you went limp. Trying not to lose his shit, he checked your pulse and made sure that it was still present. To his relief, it was.

Daryl kept stitching until the wound was closed, and he sat back to look over his work. The stitches weren't the cleanest, but it was enough. As the adrenaline faded, he let out a shaky breath and started to cry. He usually didn't allow himself to be weak, but this was his baby, and she had almost died on him.

As silent tears streamed down his face, he lifted a bloody hand and gently stroked your hair. Your blood had caked his skin, but he couldn't bring himself to care. You were alive, and that was enough for him. He kept his hand on your head and whispered a promise.

“I love you so fuckin' much. You're okay, baby. Ain't ever gonna let you go.”

[walkingtalkingsomething]

cute 😊

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.