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formylovetodaryldixon · 1 month ago

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“Russian roulette.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote a long time ago, but that was the first time I wrote smut (I suck at it, really) that's why I never did it, but I tried my best hehe. I realized that I love, LOVE writing Daryl as a husband, is kind of hot♥ (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

From afar, Daryl sees you teaching the children of the kingdom how to use the bow in the archery area. Some little ones had good bases to become great archers, to protect themselves and others from the dead, but he sees too how they insist that you show them again how it was done. So you search inside the quiver that hangs against your back, taking an arrow with a red feather in it that shines in the morning sun when you connect it with the bow. With a fluid movement, you raise the bow to the height of your face, pointing towards the target in front but far from you, and your arrow pierces right in the middle of the yellow point of the objective.

Daryl smiles proudly, but decides not to get close when King Ezekiel approaches you. Instead, Daryl walks away from there and crosses the garden and some houses, while, near him, Richard keeps practicing in his own archery area, and watches Daryl as he approaches.

“I’m practicing. I have to start using these more.” He raises the bow close to his face, aiming towards the target, but the arrow hit the black point far from the center. “I know your wife can do much better.”

“She can.” Daryl says, and Richard turns to him.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman.” Richard takes the crossbow from the big box between them, holding a calm expression that Daryl doesn’t trust in, but he takes it, glancing at Richard with suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we want the same things. And I need your help.”

He is talking about the saviors, Daryl knows it well, so he checks the weight of the crossbow in his hands before he lifts it close to his face, ready to shoot.

Daryl and Richard walk down the empty highway with green trees at the sides and a desolate view. The plan is to attack first, a surprise ambush that would cause a war between the Kingdom and the saviors, to then finally kill them to live safe. So they hide behind a big cargo truck by the side of the road, putting down their weapons and backpacks.

“They ride this road. If we see cars: it’s the saviors. They are coming in bands of 2 or 3. That’s why I need you. I can’t take them down alone.” Richard says. He kneels in front of his backpack, pulling the liquor bottles out of it. “We hit them with the guns first, then with the molotovs, and back to the guns until they are dead.”

“Why the fire?”

“It needs to look bad.” But Daryl doesn’t seem convinced, and walks around Richard with his crossbow in hand, forcing him with just a look to continue explaining himself. “The saviors who discovers what’s left…” Richard gets up and turns around to look at Daryl. “We want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache near to an open field that will take them… to a person who practices near here and that Ezekiel cares about.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, because he was too protective to let a person be exposed like that.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a person that will help.”

“Lives in the kingdom?”

“She practices out of there.”

Daryl stops himself.

“It’s a woman?”

Richard frowns, suddenly becoming impatient.

“What’s that matter? She got more balls than you and me together. She’s not gonna die, but when the saviors come and find their friends dead, they will follow the trail and go to the gun’s cache, then to the open field and they’ll try to attack this woman…”

Daryl frowns, growing impatient as well.

“What’s 'er name?”

“They won’t kill her, but that’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do. He will see she was about to get hurt because of the saviors and just then he will fight.”

Richard’s betrayal begins to unfold in front of Daryl’s eyes, but he doesn’t like what he hears, and as a reflection, his hand tightens on the crossbow.

“'er name. What is it?”

“She is tough. She will live.”

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit in and Daryl starts to have a complete view of Richard’s plan, but he doesn't want to act recklessly until he hears it with his own ears.

“Say 'er damn name!”

He needs to hear it to be sure. However, although his threatening look makes Richard almost surrender, he shows no fear, showing all his disinterest towards your life.

“(Y/N)”

Containing himself so as not to kill Richard at that very moment with a single arrow in his skull is the hardest thing Daryl ever did. But his body is shaking with anger; the blood on his veins freezes as he listens to that man and how he put his wife’s life in danger without remorse. As if your life is worth nothing, as if you didn’t have someone to defend you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?” Daryl talks with a low, yet angry voice. “Ya jus’ dared to put in risk ma wife’s life jus’ ‘cause ya think she can handle a group of saviors?”

“You two told Ezekiel that anything had to be done to stop the saviors.”

Again, even when he has the chance, Daryl uses all his strength to not shoot an arrow in Richard’s face, and he walks around Richard to take his things before leaving that place.

“No.”

“She’ll live. Listen… this is how this has to happen. This is how we will get rid of the saviors. You two stayed in the kingdom for a reason: to prove to Ezekiel we can kill the savior. Together. So we can all have a future.”

“No!” Daryl passes him by, walking away from him.

“If we don’t do something people are gonna die!” Richard walks towards him and Daryl faces him. “People who wants to live!”

“Get the hell away from ma wife, ya hear me?”

Daryl gets close to him, looking straight into his eyes. Richard backs away, but hearing the roar of the cars that approaches in the distance attracts his attention. Daryl drops his backpack off his shoulder and holds his crossbow, watching the saviors’ path toward them coming down the hill.

There, Richard looks at Daryl.

“It’s them. We can wait for things to go bad, lose people, or we can do the hard thing…” He glances back at the saviors for a few seconds before looking at Daryl again. “Or choose our fates for ourselves.”

“No.”

Richard shrugs.

“Sorry.”

He turns around to carry out his plan with or without Daryl’s help, but Daryl drops his crossbow and takes Richard by the collar of his t-shirt to push him to the ground. He tries to fight back, but Daryl holds him with his own arm close to Richard’s neck, to then punch him, over and over until a river of blood descends from his nose to cover part of his face. Richard whines taking a canteen next to his face and hit Daryl, falling onto a side as both crawl on the ground to take their weapons to aim at their faces when they get up.

Richard breathes through his parted and broken lips and nods towards the saviors.

“There will be more. Or they will come back later, and we will have another chance. But we are running out of time. Your people need the kingdom to beat the saviors… We have to make sacrifices in one way or another. Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

Daryl sees in his eyes the sadness for his loss, but that would never justify taking the life of another person to win that fight, not that way.

“Ya don’t know me.”

“I know that (Y/N) is stronger than us.”

To Richard’s surprise, Daryl lowers his crossbow, but the fierce look in his eyes is enough to make Richard take a step back.

“I’ll tell ya this jus’ once: If ma wife gets hurt, she dies, she catches a fever, she gets taken out by a walker, she gets hit by lighting, anythin’ happens to her, I’ll kill ya. Even if she jus’ gets a small cut in ‘er body, I’ll kill ya. So from now on: don’t talk to 'er, don’t look at 'er, don’t breathe near 'er. Fuck, don't even think about 'er.”

Richard holds his breath, looking at Daryl straight in his eyes.

“I would die for the kingdom.”

Daryl looks back at him, without any fear but with boiling anger.

“Why don’t ya?”

And then, he takes his backpack, his crossbow, and Daryl leaves.

When you turn off the lamp on the night table of your room, the light of the night comes in softly through the closed window, and you lay down sideways on your side of the bed as Daryl covers you with the blanket.

“Ya won’t take your clothes off?” He asks as he hugs you from behind.

“No…” You lie. “I’m cold.”

“I can help ya with that.” He says softly and moves to get closer to you. His arm hold you against him, giving you part of his warm. “Don’t worry ‘bout anythin’. No one ain’t gonna hurt ya. We’ll leave this place in a few days.”

You hold his hand on yours, waiting for him to fall sleep.

The anxiety and the fear inside you become one within you as the minutes pass in a dead silence. But suddenly, the world around you seems like a lie because everything is as quiet as if there were no walkers on the other side of the big gates, as if Richard hadn’t tried to hurt you without any remorse. Daryl told you because you already knew that something was happening and because he wanted you to stop going to that open field to practice. He couldn’t protect you without telling the truth. However, what hurt you the most is thinking how a life could mean nothing in the hands of other people: as if they had any rights over it. But the truth hits you hard too; because you did the same thing the first time you defended yourself from someone who tried to kill you for your weapon.

That didn’t make you a killer, too? Then, the guilt falls on you, the harsh reality of a murderer who tries to justifies a murder, just as Richard tried to do, just as you did. Everyone there, good or bad people were doing the same thing. Killing. Taking lives away. And you realized you couldn’t be part of all that. Not because you were weak but because you didn’t want to be the survivor that sees its friends die. And what if you die in the middle of the battle? Dying and causing pain to others, was that worth it? Or to stay alive but live in a constant pain? That life was like playing Russian roulette: none of you knew who could die or live, but all had to play. No exception. But you couldn’t stay and do it, so that night, you left before the game started.

That same night, you leave your backpack on the small bed and look around the place in that cold lonely night. It is a two-bedroom cabin. It is old, small but cozy, much better than a bed in the kingdom. This was a place you found days ago without telling anybody, not even Daryl. And as you lay down there, you hope that is the last time you start a new beginning far from killing, far from the fear of losing people, even if you had just lost your husband.

In the very early morning, near the garden of the Kingdom, a commotion catches Morgan and King Ezekiel’s attention. They run to the group of people who gathers around a fight, but no one is able to stop a wild Daryl, who is over Richard, punching him over and over until Morgan takes him by the arms and pulls him out of Richard before he could kill him. Daryl gets up and breathes hardly through his parted lips, watching Richard still on the ground and unable to move, or breathe.

“What is happening?!” Ezekiel asks, holding Richard and looking around. “Walk away, people. There is a lot to do today.”

The people listen, and Ezekiel glances at Daryl.

“Tell me right now why you did this.”

“That piece of shit did somethin’ to ma wife. She left!” Daryl is about to fall over Richard again, but Morgan holds him back. “I told him to stay away from ‘er!”

Ezekiel gets up leaving Richard on the ground, too weak to get himself up.

“What did Richard do to (Y/N)?”

Daryl looks at Ezekiel, not wanting to say what happened.

“Let him tell ya, I’ll go find ma wife.”

Daryl takes his crossbow from the ground and walks away with big steps towards the gates. Behind him, Morgan is following him.

“Daryl… Did (Y/N) leave a note?”

But he doesn’t stop.

“She wanted to get away from this fight. She doesn’t wanna see 'er friends being killed.”

“Because she knows that some of us could die.”

Daryl hates the way Morgan talks, like if Daryl didn’t understand that could happen. So, he turns around, giving Morgan a threatening look.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a damn child. Killin’ the saviors is the only way for me to make sure ma wife and friends will have a safe life.”

“Even if someone dies in the process?”

But Daryl doesn’t answer, and he yells at the man in charge of the gates to open it up. He walks out, completely sure he would find you sooner or later.

During a silent and almost deafening sunset, you walk through the forest near your house, with the quiver on your back and the bow in your hand, looking for some animal to eat. Everything is as it should be in the forest, everything there belongs to its place. Except you. But still listening to the birds sing in the long distance, you make your way until you find a squirrel that moves from here to there on the branch of a tree. You pull an arrow from the quiver; you connect it to the bow and lift it to the correct height close to your face, holding the air in your lungs. However, as a sudden sadness covers you because you couldn’t stop killing, another arrow flies close to you and sinks into the animal’s body.

You gasp in acknowledgment, so you turn around to see Daryl walking close to you, with your heart beating fast against your chest. He stops in front of you, looking at you through his head slightly down, just like he did when he was sad. He did that just with you, because just with you he was able to show how he truly felt, without feeling ashamed of feeling weak.

“This is the moment when you ask me why the hell I left you.” You say through the knot in your throat, but he just shakes his head softly.

“This is the moment when I say I missed ya.” He approaches you, almost afraid as if you are not real, and he puts his arms around you to embrace your waist, hiding his face in your neck, at the same time that you let go of the bow to feel him close to you. “I missed ya.”

As you sit down in your little bed, kicking your black boots off, Daryl leaves his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looks inside for something. But before you know what it is, he throws it at you and you catch it perfectly. It is a peach, because he knows how much you like them. As you clean it against your clothes, Daryl sits in the chair that gives him a perfect view of you, resting his elbow against the wood, holding his chin in his hand.

“Explain it to me ‘cause I don’t get it.” He makes a gesture with his hand to point around the place. “I said I would protect ya. We were ‘bout to leave that place. But ya just walked away in the middle of the night… Why?”

His voice fill with disappointment pierces your ears, but you try to gather your ideas so that he understands your reasons.

“I’m tired. I’m afraid. And I don’t wanna see any of our friends being killed…and I realized I can’t neither. It’s too much to handle. I can kill, like, a person, and that’s what really scares me. I know they killed our friends, but this revenge, or justice, or whatever you want to call it: it will only endanger our people, and we will see more blood. And then we will have nightmares about their deaths, and we will not know what is worse: if sleep only to have nightmares about their deaths, or live awake in this real-life nightmare. I know I’m being selfish because they are willing to fight, but I can’t lose you or them.” You feel the tears in your eyes, but you rub your face with your hands to not let them fall right now. “I don’t want to be around if that happens.”

Daryl looks at you, rubbing his finger against his lip, trying to contain his own anger. He didn’t want to act like he used to, he didn’t want to yell at you for leaving him just the way you did. But that was hard for him too, it was too painful, almost impossible to bear the days he was without you, thinking that something bad could have happened to you because he couldn’t protect you. But right there, in front of you, he wants to tell you how scared he was when he didn’t find you by his side that morning, and that he couldn’t sleep the days after that.

“So what?” He says with a raspy voice. “What ‘bout me? I’m yer husband. Did ya think I’d jus’ sit there and do nothin’? That I would jus’ let ya get away from me? That was yer plan? Make me love ya and then leave me?”

Daryl was the strongest man, but the weakest too when it was about you. And you knew, that in that world or in the previous one, love was still a dangerous feeling, sometimes even more dangerous than a walker.

“That’s not true, Daryl: you know it.”

He laughs harshly.

“I realized I don’t know anythin’ about the woman I’m married to.”

“Ouch… That hurts.” You chuckle tiredly, then sighing until you found the right words. “I think it would be better if you get angry with me, if you kick the chair and tell me what I did wrong.”

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to calm his wild heart.

“Nah. Ya are here with me now.” But, suddenly, he stands up, taking off his vest in his way to you, his gaze locked on yours as he begins to unbutton his shirt next. “But I think I need ya to learn your lesson in a different way.”

Your mouth is dry, and your own heart begins to beat at an alarming pace.

“Daryl… what are you doing?”

As he reaches the edge of the bed, he tosses his shirt aside, while, with the gentleness that didn’t usually characterize him on the outside, his thumb caresses your soft cheek, a warm contrast to his finger.

“Have ya ever been scared of me?”

Though he’s referring to that situation happening now in particular, you know he’s asking in general as well, if, perhaps, at some point in your marriage, you’ve seen him through different eyes. Perhaps with a fear reflected in them, a silent fear that would be overwhelming for him. But you shake your head, your gentle gaze on his ocean-colored eyes.

Daryl was a tender lover behind his tough appearance, and you were never scared, not by him.

“No. You know damn well I have not.”

“Not even once?”

His own doubt makes you smile a little bit.

“Not even once, Dixon, I know well you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hell yeah, woman, n’ only for ya.” He says, so serious like never before. “So if that’s true, lay down n’ lemme show ya how damn much I missed ya.”

You do as he tells you, your gaze on the wooden roof, feeling the knot in your stomach traveling to your lower part as he unbuttons and unzips your black jeans. It's torturously slow, but you know he's doing it as part of the lesson, because he's never denied you pleasure before. Since your marriage began, he was always a giver, taking your own pleasure as his own. It was like a rule for him to give you all the pleasure, and then give you a little more.

But when he removes all your clothes and his breath and his beard tickle your most sensitive area, your hands look blindly something to hold yourself onto, his long hair maybe, but he just pushes your hands away.

“No touchin’.” He says, dangerously low.

However, when his strong hands cling to your hips, his mouth sinking into you, you let out a tight gasp, your knees bending up. But the way he is moving against you as you move against him, too, makes him feel so needy for you, like he is in a beautiful hell. Your hands still in the air closed almost painfully, eyes closing too, arching your back, and mouth falling finally open.

“Daryl, wait–”

“Shut it.” He warns you, keeping his warm mouth close to your entrance. “Fuck, why ya always taste so damn good? Makes me wanna live in between your legs all the fuckin’ time.”

He wasn’t normally a very talkative person, but when Daryl was on the right mood he loved saying things that he knew would turn you on, leading you to the edge of being out of breath. He loved playing with you like he does again, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking, fingers holding onto the bones on your waist. The angry animal inside him woke up when you moan with open lips, sending a painful throbbing to the hardness in his pants.

He sucks hard on you, making you shake against him, holding yourself onto the blanket even when you want to hold his hair. But feeling you so needy for him, and only for him makes him feel about to explode, but he stops himself from lower one of his hand to his pants to stroke his manhood.

Daryl starts to feeling you moving against his face, and he takes pride that he could make you cum without being inside you, yet, because he’s not going to let you do that, hell no. No matter how much he enjoyed torturing you that way, he is ready to give you so much pleasure you wouldn’t think ever again about leaving him, no when he couldn’t live without you anymore.

So Daryl stands up, removing his hands from your body, giving you the time to catch some air as he unbuckles his belt, like the most erotic image in the world. His strong and naked chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with you, his mouth in a tight line as he removes his belt, not ready to smile even a little to you as you bite your own lips, hiding a smile.

“I will never be scared of you, but it scares me a little bit what is coming.”

He is kind of angry, but not with you, but with the idea of being a little bit animalistic, like to roll over onto your knees so he could hold himself on your hips, maybe even on your hair, pulling it just a little like he has done a few times when you two were getting playful.

“Ya should be.” He says, so low and dangerous as he unbuttons his pants. “Now take the rest of yer clothes off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting back down to pull off your black t-shirt, with nothing underneath. The complete view of your now naked body is such a temptation for him, so much that he thinks he would give up soon. But no, he’s stronger than that.

“Now lay back down, n’ spread your legs open for me.”

Fuck. You think that couldn’t get any hotter, but you know it could with that look in his deep gaze, so you lick your dry lip and look back at him as he kicks his boots off, taking off his pants and his boxer next, while, still sitting, you try to look up only, even when there is a whole spectacle at the level of your own gaze.

“Should I call you sir while I do that?” You smile sweetly at him, playing innocent.

And for the first time in the night, Daryl smiles back.

“I’m yer fuckin’ husband, peach, the same person that’s gonna make love to ya, maybe that way ya won’t leave me ever again. Now do as I tell ya.”

Though you can hear the sadness in his words, his voice doesn’t waver, not when he’s so ready to do what he promised, so with nothing else on your mind, you lay back down on the bed, spreading your legs as an invitation that Daryl immediately takes. He lays on top of you, and you can almost feel his own heartbeat as he sinks into you with one hand, while the other arm holds him up too close to your face. You feel him throbbing inside of you, and he holds himself on his legs, his free hand looking for the softness of your face to hold you there, kissing you deeply.

Your own hands hold his lower back, and this time, he lets you touch him freely. The warm of your fingers is melting him, but when he starts to move, he drowns your moans and his tense grunts in a kiss. His calloused hand grasps your face with a firmness but a sweet touch, as if you are a piece of glass, the most precious in the world, in his world.

Daryl never felt so primitive and he is too drunk with lust, but there is something intense and so erotic in the idea that he could push himself deeper into you, and that you would take everything and even beg for more. So he does, he presses into you deeper, harder than ever but not in a painful way because hurting you wasn’t in his nature, but he is taking you to the very edge in no time. You called out his name against his mouth as he starts moving faster against you, making you feel the tension building up on your stomach and in between your legs, so hot like hell itself, as intense as the beginning of the orgasm that is about to hit you soon if he keeps moving that way.

But it feels different from other times, short but in a new kind of intense. His thumb caresses your check, his forehead resting on your just a moment before he buries his face in your neck, the same finger sliding over your bottom lip, and that little action is so hot. The sounds he starts making against your neck are an arousing melody, sounds he muffles against your hair on his own path to much-needed release.

Your hands hold his lower back even harder, pulling him against you, your mouth against his shoulder, drowning out the forbidden sounds that come from between your lips, the view of the world fading as you close your eyes while letting out a hot cry as he makes you cum.

Finally, Daryl spills himself inside you, breathing through parted lips as he catches his breath.

After a long minute, or maybe two and when you can breathe again, you speak softly.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to leave you alone, or make you think that I don't love you.”

Daryl raises his head, getting lost in the way you ask for his forgiveness with your eyes, too. But in that moment, he knows everything will be alright.

“So ya won’t leave me again?” He asks softly, but, too deep in your own sadness to speak properly, you just shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause ya got to know I’ll chase ya to the end of the fuckin’ world, burnin’ everythin' on ma way ‘till I find ya.”

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 9 months ago

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Those Summer Nights, When I Look in Your Eyes

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (No France) Warnings: Sexual Situations; Vague Smut

Summary: Daryl's childhood had lacked so much and at the beginning of the turn, he had never known love beyond Merle's version of it. Now, he had it all and he would never let them wonder how much he cherished them.

A/N: For @louifaith, I hope this is close to what you imagined for our archer. 🩵 - Also, I have Daryl calling reader "pip" because someone suggested him nicknaming her "pipsqueak" in another story and it has just stuck with me. I was as vague as possible about reader’s age but let me be clear - she is above 18. I don’t write for huge age gaps. I don’t judge those that do and I do read them. I just do not write them but I have no control over where your mind takes you. Anyway, the song he hums is attached. ;)

Life was good.

For thirteen years, there had never been a point in time where Daryl had felt like he could say that and genuinely believe it. For an entire year, the Commonwealth had thrived. Not a single threat. The walls held. The governing unit was fair and compassionate. It really was like the old world.

But not for Daryl.

In the old world, he had been a drifter. A useless drifter walking in the shadow of his brother. No job, no friends, no purpose. And he had, at that time, liked it that way.

Not anymore.

Because now he had a job. He had friends. He had a family. He had a purpose. And he had everything he had lacked growing up. He had love, and not just Merle’s variation of it.

Carol had taken over Lance’s position when Ezekiel and Mercer had stepped up to govern. She had pulled Daryl aside and asked him if he wanted to stay in their reformed force, giving him the choice. His decision was to promptly decline. So they put their heads together to come up with something.

Daryl possessed many skills, most of them learned by doing throughout the years. He had one condition that he would not negotiate on, however.

Daryl’s time outside the walls was over.

He agreed to train hunters to take his place and conceded to three weeks on the road with volunteers that he left up to Carol’s choosing. There was more than enough trust between them for him to be comfortable with who she would deem worthy to provide for the community.

Then he was given the job of overseeing construction and structural upkeep, equipment maintenance, and of course, a seat in the governmental advisory council. He was nothing if not adaptable and took to his position quickly, finding that he liked it. He was respected and his suggestions for the good of the community were heard and considered.

If he chose to hunt or ride, it would be for leisure but he’d hardly needed it in the past year. Domestic life had tamed the inner need to hide or escape that had been ingrained throughout the years even before the turn.

Years ago, you had tumbled into his life. A hot mess that he had spent many a day battling the urge to absolutely throttle. You had a stubborn streak a mile wide that made his own nothing more than a small trail. He absolutely couldn’t stand you.

Funny thing, time.

Now you wore his ring and proudly carried his last name. You had wanted the ceremony, even if his proposal was lackluster. He had been seeking you out after the end of the Whisperers.

“Where’s Y/N?” At first no one answered. He barely parted his lips, intent on asking again with a little more well placed ardor when a woman he recognized as a former Hilltop resident spoke up. “I saw your wife! She’s over with the children!” He muttered his thanks and took a single step before you were finding him. “Daryl!” Your body collided with his, knocking the air from his lungs. His heartbeat lowered regardless, feeling you there in his arms, alive and breathing and whole. “I couldn’t see you in the herd. I was about to come find you but Jude, she made me promise to stay.” “M’here. An’ they’re gone” He tightened his arms around you and rested his cheek on the crown of your head. “So I’m your wife now, huh?” He felt the shift of your facial muscles against his chest, knew you were smiling. “What of it?” He grunted. “Ya wanna be?” He felt his heart skip a few beats when you lifted your head to smile at him, beaming and beautiful. “Of course, I do. Might as well be at this point. We sound like an old married couple.” Daryl snorted and then shrugged. “Then I guess we are.” “That simple?” “That simple.” When you grinned, he knew you would never let it be that simple.

You got your wedding, simple and intimate, with only the few remaining people that were closest to the two of you. When Gabriel said the words, you got your ring, too. Oh, the hell and herds Daryl had gone through to get them. Matching bands, camelot black titanium. Crafted to withstand the way the world was.

He was twisting the ring round and round as he walked home, tired from a full day’s work and more than ready for the weekend with his family: you, Jude, RJ, and his little River. His boy was nearly two years old, the spitting image of Daryl with a heaping dose of your attitude.

You were younger than Daryl, still at an age where pregnancy and giving birth was not considered risky beyond the state the world was in and the lack of some resources. It was horrifying yet the best news he’d ever heard in his self-proclaimed useless life.

River Merle came along right in the midst of the unease in the Commonwealth. When they had taken you and River along with Jude and RJ, it had required all the power Carol possessed to stop Daryl from losing his goddamn mind. He was prepared to rip out entrails with his bare hands and use them to strangle each and every trooper that stood between him and his wife and kids. It was not a good time to support Pamela.

It all worked out in the end when, bruised but alive, the people took back the Commonwealth.

And now, here he was. A husband. A father. A boss. A survivor.

Life. Was. Good.

“Ya home, Pip?” The words habitually rolled off his tongue the moment he opened the door and stepped inside. Jude and RJ were watching a movie, the elder looking over with a hey, Uncle Daryl before turning right back to the television. It was the weekend. No reason to bug them about homework.

“Where else would we be?” You called from the kitchen. Daryl unlaced his boots, was in the middle of pulling off the second one when you came out with River on your hip. “Someone’s cranky today.”

“I ain’t cranky.”

“I’m not talking about you but assuming I was says a lot.” You smiled softly, passing off the baby while simultaneously stealing a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He nearly melted, probably would have if you weren’t situating a small human right against his chest.

“Get a room.” Judith was rolling her eyes when Daryl shot her a harmless look.

River’s little arms went straight around his father’s neck, his little hiccups and sniffles muffled against Dary’s shirt. “S’wrong, lil’ man. Mama houndin’ ya over veggies like she does me an’ RJ?” River pulled back, rubbing his left eye with a chubby fist, looking at Daryl with a scowl that he knew very well adorned his own face more often than not. Even being so content with his life, he couldn’t seem to rid himself of what you called his resting bitch face.

“Daddy.” Was all the boy said before burying his face back into Daryl’s shirt.

“He had a nap?” Daryl was jostling his son as little as possible while ridding himself of his precious vest, tossing it over the back of ‘his’ chair at the dining table. His large hand covered a wide expanse of the small boy’s back when he rubbed soothing little circles, following you into the kitchen. You shook your head and took the lid off the pot on the stove. The scent of meat and herbs wafted toward Daryl and his mouth watered, but first thing was first.

“He wouldn’t go down. I think it’s a daddy day.” You smiled at the sauce but it wasn’t meant for the pasta topping at all. Daddy days were Daryl’s favorite. River wanted absolutely no one but him. The baby would fuss during meals, refuse to nap, and absolutely forget about bath and bedtime unless Daryl was there.

“I got ‘im then. See if I can get ‘im down for a bit.” Daryl was ducking and angling his head to catch River’s attention, finally earning a shy smile when blue met blue and the archer scrunched his nose and stuck out his tongue. Pressing a kiss into the mess of wavy hair, he noticed you standing with your back against the countertop, a certain type of smile on your face.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just sexy.”

“Pfft, stop.”

“We are so playing chess tonight.”

Daryl arched a brow. “Yeah?”

You nodded, your smile morphing into something else entirely; something sinful. “Oh, yeah.”

Dinner done, older kids in their rooms after teeth brushing and goodnight hugs, Daryl sat in the nursery with a sleepy River resting his head on his father’s shoulder while the chair gently rocked. The baby’s hair was only the least bit damp but he smelled of the lavender lotion that you always seemed to have near the changing table, instructing Daryl to use it after baths and before bed because it was calming.

Bathed and in a fresh diaper and pajamas, mini-Daryl was beginning to drift off while his father simply rubbed his back or kissed his cheek or even held a little hand just to count the fingers over and over. Soon enough there would be potty training and pre-school—Carol had said that was still a thing in the world now and yes, they had one in the Commonwealth—so for now, Daryl just wanted to soak it all up, take it all in.

River would likely be the only baby the two of you would have, so not a single second was being wasted or taken for granted. You kept a daily journal of simple things that some might find trivial but Daryl knew he’d be reading that journal often enough to wear the ink right off the pages. Sometimes, he missed things because of work, but in the end, that’s what happened when you were a parent, he supposed. His old man didn’t care about milestones or daddy days, and his mama wasn’t around for bath time or boo-boo kisses. River would have it all. And as long as they were his to care for, so would Judith and RJ. In fact, since the baby had Daryl, you were currently reading a story to Rick and Michonne’s son before bed.

Man, if Rick could see Daryl now. Would his brother even recognize him? God, would his brother even recognize him? He let his mind drift for a moment to Rick and Merle, just long enough to keep them close and then he was back to River, pressing a kiss to a chubby cheek.

You would always rock and sing to the little one but he didn’t need that from Daryl. There was just something about their bond that didn’t require words and hardly even movement. It had been that way since the moment you had pushed him into the world. He had cried, red-faced and angry and cold while Tomi leaned to put him onto your chest. You had your time with him, cuddling and nursing, his little sounds still expressing his discontentment with the change from your warm womb to a loud, bright world.

They had Daryl take off his shirt, which he didn’t understand until you explained better than any doctor or nurse could. The moment River was pressed against his skin, the connection was apparent to anyone who saw. The baby went silent, wide eyes mirroring the ones Daryl himself had. He had felt guilty for the longest time that River wanted you to feed him and then he wanted his daddy back immediately. He still had his mommy days and you said that was enough.

You were always supportive, never angry or jealous. You’d share the moments with him while he enjoyed them with you.

It was all what he’d never had, so he’d make sure River, Judith, and RJ never went without it.

His eyes were slow to open, squinting at the traitorous window that dared let the morning rays creep across the bed and to his pillow. It took a few sluggish blinks to remember what day it was and that he was free to go back to sleep until River required either you or him. With a deep breath, he stretched his arms above his head and looked at you, still wrapped around him with your head on his chest. Naked. Still so very, very naked.

He was barely in the bedroom door before you were pushing him against it, almost catching his fingers when he attempted to mute the sound of it closing at his back. You had his shirt unbuttoned and your mouth on his before he could even take a breath. “I told you,” you panted against his lips, “we’re playing chess tonight.” Daryl grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you easily, spinning you to press you against the door. “Goddamn right, we are.” The first round was a frenzied bout of moaning and skin slapping skin, hands covering mouths to keep the noise down. Your nails had left gouges on Daryl’s ass and back, clawing at him for more. You weren’t unscathed. A bruise was blooming on the curve of your right breast, a perfect black and purple bite he had inflicted at some point. It ended with you lying across Daryl’s torso while he was flat on his back with the pillow halfway over his face. Panting and sweating while the sheet covered neither of you where it mattered. Why it was anywhere near either of you was anyone’s guess. The second time was slower, every second savored. Your fingertips memorizing his face while his hips rolled into you, back arching to push himself deeper. His lips were on your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks and mouth. His fingers danced down your ribcage and back up to your breasts, gentle caresses while he pressed his lips over the mark he’d left earlier. You didn’t have to try hard to roll him over. He went willingly, his hands going straight for your hips. You let your fingers roam his chest and stomach. His scars were yours to explore, he’d given that power over to you long ago. The marks no longer held him prisoner after you’d shown him how to be free. You were incredibly attracted to the way his body had softened with age and he worshiped each wrinkle and stretch mark that time and pregnancy had gifted you. You loved each other wholly, without condition.

And you laid where you had collapsed, goosebumps on your skin from the cool morning air. Daryl didn’t want to go back to sleep, so he laid there, watching you and just enjoying the silence with the knowledge that his family was safe. That you had survived together and built something so precious.

When River began to fuss, it was Daryl that slipped out of bed and left you to rest a bit longer. He had no qualms with being the one to get up earlier to take care of the baby.

The weekend went by fast, as it often did. Sunday night, he found himself sitting on the couch after the kids were all asleep. He had helped clean up after dinner and was contently watching you pick up toys and fold laundry. He didn’t step in to help because he had no intention of allowing you to continue for long.

“What?” You finally inquired, obviously catching him staring.

“Nothin’.” He smirked, huffing a laugh that came out as an exhale through his nose. You were still regarding him when he stood and beckoned you with a finger. “C’mere.” Your pretty eyes narrowed but you placed the unfolded towel on the top of the pile in the basket and stepped into his space. Daryl wasn’t romantic, truly believed he didn’t have it in him to be anything near it. Still, when he guided your arms to his shoulders and lowered his hands to your hips, he watched you melt.

“There’s no music, Daryl.”

“Don’t need it.” He shrugged, just swaying back and forth with you, pulling you closer until you rested your head against his chest.

“The formidable Daryl Dixon is dancing with me when there’s no music playing. This’ll make the papers. It’ll be the headline.”

“Stop.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss into your hair. He was smiling when you sighed, somehow pressing yourself closer to him. You didn’t react at first when he started to hum, whether you were in shock or just relishing the moment. Maybe both. You let him continue.

It was an old tune, one from a favorite album released more than a decade before the first walker rose from the dead. The tune was slow and deep, his chest vibrating with every drone. Finally, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, the corners of your mouth perked.

“What is that?”

“How dare ya! S’Ozzy, woman.” He feigned offense but was tenderly tucking your hair behind your ears.

“I’ve never heard it.”

Daryl scowled playfully before scrunching his nose. ��Remind me why I married ya?” You wrapped yourself around him and with the fondest smile he had ever let cross his face, he held you tighter.

“Because you love me.”

“Yeah.” He breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #dad!daryl #daryl fluff #domestic!daryl #Spotify

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darylbae · 7 months ago

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Pls could you write daryl dixon x fem!reader at the kingdom? carol and ezekiel took in a worn out and struggling woman and have been helping her get back on her feet. daryl comes along and teaches her to hunt and maybe r lost some memory but got a bit back when she shot her first animal w daryl maybe she’s actually a vvv good hunter

crack shot — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you find the kingdom, and an archer who's willing to train you.

note: love this, going to make a lil drabble of this.

You'd been alone for a long time. You'd survived with your stealth and trusty knives, but it was getting harder. Your backpack of supplies were low, you hadn't found a proper place to settle down, and you'd recently injured yourself trying to hide from a horde of walkers. Until you'd been found passed out from blood loss sat on a branch in a tree. A man, who spoke as if he'd been pulled from a fantasy book, and a woman, who seemed the exact opposite of him. And yet they worked together well enough to get you back to wherever it is they call home. The Kingdom.

That was almost a month ago. You'd spent a long while recovering, getting to know the Kingdom and it's people, and helping out with your very minimal mobility. Turns out your injury had been worse than you or anyone had thought. When Carol, the woman who found you, had sat at your bedside to question you, you appeared to have lost any knowledge of what's happened. Memories muddle into one, not being clear enough to decipher. You'd forgotten a lot of your life before this, but you assumed that was because the world had changed so drastically. You remembered some long-term things, like family members you had, what was happening in the world at this point in time, and where you were born, but everything else had fallen short. It was time to start building you back up. Carol would visit you a lot, bringing you things to eat, taking you around on walks to show you how things are going, and today she had other ideas in mind. "So," Carol sighed, sitting next to your bed once again, "I think you've recovered enough to start doing something. I've asked a friend to train you in dealing with walkers. Just to make sure you can defend yourself still." You nodded, finishing lacing up your boots and getting out of bed. "Who? Jerry? Because I love Jerry." Carol laughed. "No, an old friend of mine offered to help actually. He's waiting outside."

Carol had taken you outside, and stood in front of the both of you, was God himself. Everything you'd liked in a man, he was here. But you pushed those thoughts to the back of your brain, focusing on learning. "This is Daryl," Carol introduced him, and he held the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder, giving you a quick look up and down, and a nod. "He's going to take you hunting today."

The two of you had left the Kingdom, quietly walking towards the woods. "Carol said you forgot everythin'," he mumbled, his voice gruff but it pushed a few buttons for you, "that sucks." "Yeah. It's a strange feeling. I don't really remember much except the family I had, and how the world turned out like this." You explained. "So you're a hunter?" He nodded. "I'm good at it. Been doin' it all my life." "Well I hope I catch a good deer or something for Carol and Ezekiel."

It had been a long, slow day. You'd spent a long time just walking through the woods silently, trying not to scare any wildlife away. With the occasional "come 'ere" from Daryl. But you'd finally found a deer; stood gracefully between two trees, sniffing at the ground. Daryl raised his crossbow, explaining how to use it. "Wait," you exclaimed in a whisper, "can I do it?" Daryl handed you his crossbow, and before he'd opened his mouth about how to hold it, you'd fired the arrow and it landed perfectly into the deer, killing it in the most humane way. He was in shock, analyzing your features for any signs of shock. "You done this before?" He asked, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder again before following you towards the deer. "Maybe? I don't know. It just felt natural to me." You answered, and he was still reeling from how impressed he was. "Have to take you huntin' with me all the time now, crack shot."

#daryl dixon incorrect quotes #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl x you #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon blurb #daryl dixon imagines #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd

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muzarry · 2 years ago

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So! I've been working on an AU for the past week or two, and I'd like to introduce it to y'all on here!

This is basically Darius's mentor/lover/the previous grimwalker lives AU, featuring my golden guard oc in his place.

The name of the AU is "Second Chances"!

-Ezekiel gets a new shot at life after killing Belos

-Hunter gets to live after nearly rotting away in the grimwalker laboratory

-Darius gets a new comfortable life after being a covenhead/resistance double agent

-Vivi is Vivi <3

#toh Second Chances AU #toh ezekiel #toh darius #the owl house #toh #the owl house au #toh hunter deamonne #darius deamonne

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arcadia-of-pluto · 3 months ago

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Divisa; Two

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 1, 771

Themes; reality hopping, alt universe (same universe but something is a little...different), doppelganger, multiple endings, slowburn

Warnings; Excessive swearing

Notes; Words with a " * " by them will be explained at the end of the chapter <3

Hey guys! Finally onto chapter 2 of Divisa! I could've made this longer, but I wasn't sure I'd have a stopping point if I continued so if the ending seems abrupt– that's why. Also, there will be a ton of posts today, none are too important. Just the Divisa Masterlist, the page to navigate to each character moodboard, annnd the five moodboards!

Now, please do bear in mind that the Love Interests moodboard will have spoilers pertaining to their backstories, so if you don't want to seem them, then look past the bio and look at the pictures I included! 🩷 I know I probably shouldn't post any spoilers for this since I'm only on chapter two and no character is fully fleshed out just yet but...I wanted to! If anything in their bio changes in the future, I just thought of something better. That's all.

prev || next

☆ Masterlist ☆

“What're you talking about?” Your brows knit toward and you try to grab the photo from him, but Sylus holds it above his head.

“Ezekiel L/n. Forty-five years old. His pregnant girlfriend went missing over twenty-three years ago when a rift opened in their downtown apartment complex.” The man finally decides to quit teasing you and sets the photo in your hand.

“He's been a Hunter for over twenty-six years, so it's hard to not know him.”

That's…odd. From your knowledge of the games, the first Deepspace Tunnel opened in 2034 with the Chronorift Catastrophe…so how come the dates are off?

You clear your throat, snatching your wallet back to tuck the photo back safe inside. “Well, I don't know him.” You look away from Sylus.

Something about this felt…

This whole ordeal felt off.

How the hell was your father from here?? If your mom clearly has pictures with this man, could it just be a coincidence? That, perhaps, your father just so happens to resemble this man?

“You don't know your own father?” Sylus hums, tapping his index finger against his temple.

“Never met him before.” You sigh, setting your coin purse onto the table. “Look, are you going to buy anything or not? I'm done talking about my family issues.” You cross your arms over your chest and you can tell Sylus is thinking about his response before there's a knock on the door.

One of the men walks over to Sylus, whispering something to him, and you hear Sylus click his tongue. “That damn fish…” He sounds annoyed, but he nods his head.

“Sure, let him in.”

“It appears you have another buyer.” Sylus waves his hand and the coin purse gets wrapped in a reddish black mist, before it floats into his hand.

As he opens the purse to look through the coins, a second person enters the room.

What in the main character luck…

A purple haired man dressed in a sleek suit waltzes over to Sylus, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands over the other man. “Were you trying to monopolize all of these rare artifacts?” The man clicks his tongue. “Seriously, Carrion*, you know I need antique coins for my showcase next month.”

“If I were the seller, Betta*, I wouldn't sell you a damn thing. Considering you ignored them.” Sylus glances up from your coin purse and jerks his head in your direction.

You were silent as the familiar purple-haired man turned to look at you. You knew your face was covered so he wouldn't immediately recognize you, but your body broke out in a cold sweat in fear that he might realize who you could be, just by looking at your eyes.

“Wait…” The man's eyes narrow as he takes the seat closest to you. “Can you..” He motions toward his face, miming the action of pulling down a mask. “You seem familiar.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes dart over to Sylus, coincidentally meeting his eyes and he chuckles. He shakes his head and pats Betta on the shoulder. “Tone it down a bit, yeah? She's in a bit of shock. Introduce yourself first before you scare off a big catch.”

“I'll use my real name then, if she's so worried. Rafayel.” He holds his hand out toward you and you grab his fingers, shaking his hand that way instead. “We use code names at the Nest, not that it matters since we have easily recognizable faces. Carrion is Sylus. But you can use a code name, if you want. It seems like you're a little worried about revealing your identity.”

“Ah…” you ponder for a moment before you finally make a decision on your codename. You definitely couldn't use your own name, so you settled on the nickname your mom gave you in the womb.

“You can call me Comet.”

“Alright then, Comet…So what had her so shocked?” Rafayel turns to look at Sylus and the white haired man pauses his search once more with an annoyed sigh.

“She was shocked to learn that her father is Ezekiel L/n.” Is all he says and Rafayel's head snaps in your direction.

“Wait, seriously?” He looks you up and down before you sigh and pull the photo back out. “So it is true…Wait. I know him. He commissioned a painting a while back and..” he taps his finger against the half with your mom on it.

“He wanted a painting of her. I finished it, but I could never find him again to hand it over.”

“Can I have it?” You can't stop yourself from asking and your hand quickly flies up to cover your masked mouth.

Rafayel chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “If I can find a 2000 Sacagawea, a 1947 Silver Walking Liberty half dollar, and a 2023 Silver Peace Dollar then I'll gladly give you it– as long as I don't have to pay for my coins.” He flashes you a smile. “Deal?”

“I have no idea what my grandma had, but if you can find what you're looking for…” You shrug, clasping your hands together. “Then, sure. It's a done deal.”

“Perfect. You're a lifesaver. My up-coming showcase is called ‘A glimpse into the Past’ and it's going to be filled with unique artworks based on antiques like those.” Then, Rafayel turns to grab the coin purse from Sylus, who promptly smacks his hand.

“Wait your turn, Betta.”

Seems like Sylus refuses to call Rafayel by his name…Either way, it's very odd to see the two of them interacting, however it makes sense. They're the only two that would ever step foot into the Nest, besides Xavier, of course.

“Has Velveteen* stopped by recently? I'm sure he'd love to find some air and space commemorative coins.” Rafayel speaks after he finally got his hands on your coin purse, dumping it out on the table in front of him to sift through the change.

“He just got done with a little hunter's mission, so I'm sure he's gone home for a nap.” Sylus taps his index finger against his temple before he looks through the bills in his hand.

Since all you could do was sit in silence, you could…theorize on who Velveteen is?

It's definitely a type of rabbit…and he's a hunter…and he takes a lot of naps…

There's no way they know Xavier, right?

Nah, that would be…Well, that would be crazy, but everything that's happened today could be considered crazy so it wouldn't be a long shot for Xavier and Velveteen to be the same person…

After a few hours of looking, you finally got your big paycheck. It was a surprisingly large amount of money, and you were left with no leftover coins or bills.

You tuck your cash filled wallet back into your back and stand up. As you do, Rafayel slips a business card into your hand.

“You have a phone, right?” As he asks, he takes his own out and looks at you expectantly. “You can come over to my studio and pick up the painting.”

“Ah…” You'd rather not risk running into yourself– Gemini – so after you type his number in and call him so he can save your number, you clear your throat. “I’d prefer to meet up at Meow’s cafe or in Azure Square, if that's alright.”

“Hmm? Oh, that's fine with me. See you later, Comet.” Rafayel pockets his phone and his three coins before he leaves.

You let out a sigh of relief and put on your backpack, getting ready to leave as well, but then a hand grabs your wrist. Your eyebrows furrow and you turn around with an annoyed look in your eyes before you realize Sylus is who grabbed you.

“You need something else?” You relax your face and glance down at his hand around your wrist.

“I saw you were looking for a place to stay. Try finding the Moonflower apartments. You might find what you're searching for there.” Sylus lets go of your hand with a small smile and you're left wondering what exactly he meant by that.

Once outside of the Nest, you first head to a convenience store to grab some essentials like food, a few drinks, a notepad, and a pen before you try to find a place to crash for the night.

As you walk down the sidewalk, a voice catches your attention.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

You turn in the direction and spot a woman. She looks about ten years older than your mom.

“Me?” You look around, pointing at your chest and she nods, beckoning you over.

While you felt this was a stupid idea, you decided to shove down your instincts and approach the woman. Once you were close enough, her hands darted out to grab your own.

“You seem familiar.” She questions. “You…don't appear to be from here.”

Your eyes widen and you try to pull away from her grip, but she's a lot stronger than she looks.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Bop

“Ouch!” You cover your head with your hands as you pout. “Geez lady, what's your deal?” You rub the back of your head, your skull lightly throbbing from where she smacked you.

“You've got less manners than your mother.” She clicks her tongue, rubbing her palm with a thumb. She must've hurt her hand when she hit you– serves her right.

Wait–

“How did you know my mom?” You ask with a hand on your hip.

“I first met her twenty-four years ago on this very street.” The older woman muses. “She appeared just as confused as you are now…She reminded me of my late daughter, so I took her in for a few days. A few days turned to months…then a year. She told me everything. I was even by her side when she was pregnant with her–” she lightly hits your shoulder, “–ungrateful child.”

“I'm sorry, lady!” You hold your hands up in defeat. “I seriously didn't know who you were.”

“That's alright, dearie. I didn't expect you to…It was just an old crone's wishful thinking.” She laughs before it turns into a hacking cough. “Sorry, the name's Josephine. Enough with all of that, it seems you need a place to stay. Why don't you stay at your mom's old place? I haven't touched it since she left.”

“My mom's…place?” You echo her words. Your nails biting into your palm as your hand clenched into a fist and you quickly nodded your head. “Sure, where is it?”

“I'll take you there…It's room 013 at the Moonflower apartments.”

I know this is really short, but I'm hoping my moodboards and other posts will make up for it! <3 The next chapter will probably be around 2k or 3k, I'm not too sure yet. I've only barely started it.

I hope I didn't lose you on the old coins portion. I was looking up antique coins and I found a bunch of ones that would look pretty as artwork! You don't need to know what they look like to enjoy the story, though.

*Carrion— a species of crow, they're known to harass predators and competitors that come in their territory

*Betta— a type of fish, known for their aggressive personalities. These types of fish are also intelligent; able to make calculated decisions based on specific details

*Velveteen— a breed of rabbit, but also a children's story. This breed of rabbit is most active during dawn or dusk, and prefers to sleep during the day and evening; in the children's story, this rabbit is said to long for love and friendship.

Taglist; @ladyparamount , @the-love-of-my-life96 , @rui-drawsbox , @deputy-videogamer , @yoongi-tunes , @fallenfromgrxce , @msturi2u , @myheartfollower, @schwnapps

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