#MAGGIE WITH THE HARD QUESTIONS.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hidtired · 4 months

Text

Poison For Some

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: Your deathly allergic to nuts and dinner in the prison leaves you running for medicine. Your abrupt departure confuses everyone, until your partner Daryl remembers of your allergies. Now it was 24 hours and you were no where to be found.

5.9k words

This runs personally in my life and will be based on my own allergies. It’s different for everyone but, this is mine. [Angst and Fluff]

Carol had made dinner like she did most nights. Winter approached and Rick was trying to put off using the canned goods for as long as he could. So, Carol decided to try and fill in some protein with almonds. She put it in the rice mixing it to whatever meat scraps we last had. Daryl was off in the shower at your demand. He had been hunting a lot more often trying to gather as much meat before winter. Coming back to the prison somehow dirtier than the last, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had rolled around in dirt for how much it cover him.

You sat at the table as Carol handed out portions. Glenn and Maggie were talking about a run they should make for Judith. Little thing needed more appropriate winter clothing. You told them you would go with, so you were just listening to their planning. The steamy bowl placed in front of you sent you happily smiling and thanking Carol for the food. Carol jokingly jabbed at you, “Swear the only way I could ever get a smile like that from you is food.” You scoff digging your spoon into the bowl and shoving it into your mouth. You talk with a mouth full,

“It’s the best way to my heart!”

You chew feeling a unique piece in your mouth. Thinking maybe the rice clumped together. Carol brought you from your thoughts, “That’s why you got yourself a hunter I see.” You chuckle at that, eyes moving to your bowl. You pushed it around spotting what you felt in your mouth, it was something pale. You swallowed the growing saliva in your mouth. Realization hit you like a truck, you sprung up from your seat in a panic. Almond peal off, something in the past you had learned the hard way had nuts in it.

You had never had to use an epiPen before, Benadryl was always what you had to chug before a epiPen was ever thought of. A mental clock started ticking. You didn’t have much time before this nut you just ate starts killing you. You didn’t know you were moving before you were already out the door. Nabbing a set of keys before sprinting to the gate. Other were surprised at the clear shock and outburst you had. You had gone out the door before they even stood to follow. When they got out the door you left the gate to the courtyard open and they saw you sprinting to the exit gate. That brought them into gear yelling and chasing after you. You didn’t have much time. Pill or preferably liquid Benadryl would only work in the early stages of your reaction. You would guess 30 minutes before it was a lost cause.

Considerably to others with the allergy you were lucky. While it was deadly you had more time and didn’t have to pull out a shot of adrenaline every time to fix it. You pulled both gates open not even attempting to close them before getting into one of the run cars. You peeled off before anyone could question you. They all yelled and waved their arms. They couldn’t believe you. The sounds of the tires screeching was emphasis to your haste. They stood at the open gate seeing the car zoom down the road. A few walkers emerged from the woods causing them to try and close the gate as fast as they could.

You white knuckle the steering wheel attempting to take slow breaths. You resisted the urge to scratch at your skin knowing you must have hives by now. A ball seemed to form in your throat. You have been attempting to locate a EpiPen and Benadryl for a while now. You had some before the farm fell and lost it to the herd. You even asked Glenn to keep an eye out for Benadryl on runs. You felt tears prick at your eyes but forced it away knowing crying would only make it harder to breathe. You were scared but you had to think fast in a last ditch effort of survival. If any pharmacy or store you have checked didn’t have it maybe a household was your best bet. You knew you wouldn’t be able to look through many houses so it was a risky gamble. You know of a neighborhood your group has yet to explore. So with a race against time, that’s where you’re headed.

You had mentioned in passing at the beginning of the quarry of your allergy. Only ever talking about it again with Daryl. He hated peanut butter and you said while you’ve never had it because you’ll die, the smell was gross and over powering. Getting a grunt and “Ain’t missing much.” from him. He also may have teased you about how ‘something as simple as a nut could take you down.’ You were always good about your allergies, hence not ever needing an EpiPen. Something your mother was grateful for not wanting to stab you with a shot. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. While it could sneak up on you it was always solved somewhat quickly. Maybe you should have made a bigger deal about it.

Daryl POV

He had just gotten a shirt on when he heard rushing and calling for his name. He peaked down from his and your cell to see a worried Beth. As soon as she saw him she was nervous and stammered out, “Y/n! Something… we were just sitting then- she’s gone! She booked it out the prison randomly!” Daryl felt his heart drop and he quickly made his way downstairs to where everyone was now piling back in from outside. Rick ran a hand in his hair as Daryl slid into the room worriedly, “The hells happening?! Where is she?!” He watch as everyone turned to the other not knowing the answer. Hershel tried to calmly tell Daryl, “We’re not to sure but she seemed pretty spooked…”

Daryl looked around about to go into a panic. He spotted a bowl spilt across a table. Maggie followed his eyes and started to explain what happened, “She was sitting there. Joking with Carol and she was fine! Then all the sudden she sprung up and ran for it.” His mind raced, he had to go after you but he couldn’t if he didn’t know where or why you were going in the first place. He turned to Carol a strained expression on his face, “What were you talking about?” Carol just shook her head worriedly and shrugged, “Just food. She was giddy as ever to eat is all.” Daryl looked back to the food sprawled out on the table, “What did you make?” Carol put her hands on her hips, the chatter from the others in the room seemingly felt dense with worry and confusion.

“Just the little bits of squirrel we had left with some rice with almonds.”

He felt the nerves in him burn. His ears flood with blood causing the noisy room to muffle. Understanding why you ran made him light headed. Others around him noticed him pale, and the shocked and panicked look you had before washed over his. He felt frozen, you went off to try and save yourself. Not taking a moment before running off to find Benadryl. Something he knows you, Glenn, and himself struggled to find. He felt like he was going to crash to the floor. He had no clue where you could have gone, and if you would ever come back. The edge of his vision darkened but he felt someone behind him steady him. It was Carl, but his father was the one to drag Daryl’s attention, “What’s happening Daryl? You know why she ran, where is she going?” He turned to look toward Carol,

“She’s allergic to nuts.”

Some gasps rang through the room, some questions flying up in the air. Carol nervously shook, words shakingly coming out of her mouth, “Oh my god, I killed her.” She sunk down to a chair a wave of nausea painted on her face. Hand covering her face as tears broke out, “I didn’t know- I remember peanuts maybe. It’s all m-my fault-t.” Glenn leaned over the table as he looked down, “Is that what Benadryl is for?” He seemed almost sick with himself that he hadn’t tried harder to look for it. The room had slowly grown quiet. A pained expression filled their faces as the gravity of the situation weighed on them.

Rick spoke trying to do what he did best, lead. He needed to control the situation and make a plan. He stood straight with arms crossed, “We need to figure out where she ran off. Then try and find some medicine to save her.” He turned to Hershel, “You have everything if it goes south?” Hershel was mid thought thinking maybe a endotracheal tube they had could keep you breathing long enough for medication. Daryl grunted and shook his head, frustrated but heartbroken, “It’s no use, we been looking for anything for her since the farm. She would have never had a chance if she didn’t ran off like she did.” He was angry at the thought, he could do nothing but hope wherever you go you find anything.

Rick spoke calmly trying not to set him off, “Her best bet is with us-“ much to his attempt Daryl roared in anger, “By the time we even made it anywhere let alone getting it back to her she would have been dead!” He clenched his teeth, “We haven’t even the slightest clue where anything for this is.” He now huffed getting emotional, “She did what she had to, she made the right call.” He looked back to a sobbing Carol, “We just hope she comes back now…” He spun around back to the cell he came. His back turned to everyone, the stone lodged in his heart finally crushed him. Swiping the curtain to the cell he looked through blurred eyes at the place you both shared.

He sank to the bed. The lasts words exchanged between you and him running in his mind. ‘Go shower so I can kiss you.’ You pushed him away into the hall. He smuggled remarked a ‘Always can kiss me in the shower.’ Watching you become coy with him at the implication. Always easy to get blood rushed to your face. You had surprised him growing ever more comfortable around him in there growing relationship. Grabbing his dirty tan shirt and pulling him into a kiss. A smile plastered on your face at his surprised one, you whispered, ‘More for when you’re clean.’ He isn’t sure when the relationship happened.

It was slow to happen but there had been to many times your eyes caught on each other. Then you slept closer to him when you had yet to find the prison. You had kissed him on the cheek before a hunt giving him it for luck. When he came back with a deer good luck kisses happened more. An arm throw around you there and then. You holding onto him while on his bike. Wasn’t til the prison when you nervously suggested sharing the same bed that he caved. That first night on a bed he kissed you. More so devoured you but he would deny that. You had never cuddled before that night either, waking up tangled into each other on the small bed.

The small bed he now cried in over the all to real possibility he had lost you. He was laid back arm across his face. His teeth clenched together to stop any pained noise to release from him. Emotion circling in him, regret, anger, heartbreak, he hadn’t even the chance to tell you how much he loved you. The fear always stopped the word from tumbling from him. He could only wait.

Your POV

It had taken you 10 minutes to reach the neighborhood you sought after. Given that you were driving faster than you normally were ok with. You quickly jump out the car running into one of the near houses. Your hands shook while fumbling with the door. Adrenaline pumping in you mostly likely helping your survival. You pushed through making quick work of any spots you could think of. Kitchen cabinets, bathroom drawers, purses. The fabric of your clothes rubbed your irritated skin any time you moved. You abandon the house and moved to the next. Your quick pace making it harder to breathe. You cough and swallow trying to relieve some of the pressure in your closing throat.

You upturned and ran sacked the next house just as you did with the other. Throwing bottles of random medication behind you as you increasingly became more desperate. You left that house looking through every room but one with a walker in it. Your eyes scanned the line of houses. Your heart ached with fear thinking you were about to asphyxiate to death. You had one more house left in you to search. You picked one that had a small bike in the overgrown grass. You moved as fast as you could while heaving. You couldn’t break down the door with the strength you had so you went through a window. You paused momentarily for any movement, hearing a lack of any you started.

Cabinet, drawers, bathrooms, now you stumbled up the stairs. Tears streaming down your face with a sense of defeat. You looked in the master bedroom knocking things over again finding nothing. You slowly moved down the hall to a kids bedroom. Glow in the dark stars on the roof. Tubs of toys filled the walls. Stuff animals filled the bed. You had removed your shirt due to its unwanted friction on your skin. Looking to the pink painted chipped walls, you shakingly come to terms with defeat. Sinking down to the floor resting against the bed frame. You look to walls covered in kids drawings. Gasping for whatever air you could bring in was the only sound in the still house.

You thought of Daryl, not having been together for long but you felt in your heart he was your everything. You didn’t have much in the world but then you had him. He didn’t have much either and you tried to not lessen that anymore with losing you. You failed but you hope he knew you tried. He was a big factor to why you were fighting this so hard. You looked to the end of the bed spotting a backpack. The little girls room you’ve been in must belong to a 1st grader. Maybe you could find a pencil and paper to right a proper goodbye. You gasped air while fiddling with the zipper. You looked for paper and a pen while you thought of what to say. You were at least glad you had kissed him the last you saw him.

Struggling to look in the back you poured the contents out on the floor in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes. A zip lock bag with a bottle of red liquid you were all to familiar with. You rip the back open spotting an old epinephrine pen with it. The bottle was small but was filled all the way. You managed to get the cap off despite struggling with the child lock. The disgusting bronze liquid flowed into your mouth. You resisted the urge to cough it up, it slowly trickled its way down your closing throat. You had downed a good bit of the bottle. It felt as if it numb the pain in your throat. A sense of relief flowed over you. You sat there still stunned as you slowly regained some breath. You lean your head back to rest on the bed behind you. You took it in, you felt shame at almost dying so easily but you were ok.

You looked back to the EpiPen you held not feeling the need to use it. It’s intended users name plastered on it, ‘Penelope Thompson, allergen Bees.’ Your skin still burned to the touch but you managed to flop back onto the small bed. Stuff animals falling to the floor. You held still trying to fully regain air in your lungs. Waiting to see if you had stopped the reaction. You laid sprawled out staring at the ceiling. Resisting the urge to scratch everywhere. The growing itch in your scalp caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

You don’t know how long you laid there before feeling like you could breathe easily. No lump felt like it blocked your throat. You had decided to get up before it got dark, knowing everyone at the prison was worried sick. When you got up right exhaustion hit you. Benadryl main side effect being drowsiness. Considering you had just consumed a large amount of it, it weighed on you. It wouldn’t be safe to travel if you fell asleep at the wheel. You didn’t need just surviving a near death experience and then crashing the car into another one. You were met on your almost dying quota for one night you think. Moving the door closed and shoving a bookcase slightly to it was the best you’d get. As soon as you lay back down it crashed back into you. Struggling to even keep your eyes open you fell asleep despite the itch of your skin.

Your eyes slowly open. You didn’t move an inch or dream in your sleep. Felt like you blinked and it was pitch black outside. You bounced up to remember what had happened. Your hives seemed to be at a minimum and you felt back to normal. Expect the grogginess. You slept like a rock in your bones and muscles protest at your movement. Even though it was dark you decided to make your way back to the prison. A few walkers could be seen in the darkness but getting back to the car you’d be fine. After getting in the driver seat you rubbed at your eyes. You felt like you had way too long of a nap. You had no clock in the car and you sighed leaning back in the seat.

“I wonder how long I slept?”

Daryl POV

Hour after hour went by. Tension was high in the prison. Darkness started to fall over the prison. Daryl sat in a watch tower looking off to the empty road. He chewed his lips til a copper taste slipped into his mouth. A few hours after no return from you felt like the end of the world. You could very well be dead by now. Maybe you had even turned and started walking aimlessly. He wallow in his bed for those first few hours. Deciding recently just stand watch. Waiting and waiting maybe wasn’t the best thing to do. All the terrible things he could think the only thing keeping him company. A few people attempted throughout the night to talk him down tell him to get some rest. Coming up with any excuses why you were not back yet.

When dawn broke everyone except Herschel, Beth and Judith, were grouped in an attempt to locate you. Looking into possible supermarkets or pharmacies you might have tried finding medication. Every empty building with no sight of you felt like a lost hope. While even in the building, they looked for possible Benadryl or an EpiPen. With no luck to even finding the smallest bit of that. The consensus of you being gone was weighing heavier than that you were still around. Likelihood of you surviving seem to crash. They hope that maybe if they went back to the prison, you would’ve found your way back. That also didn’t happen.

Daryl was in a world of anger and pain. Rick didn’t know how much he cared for you, but he did now. It was becoming dusk again as everybody stood in the courtyard. Another search party would be happening in the morning. Many stopping Daryl from doing anything in the dark. Their main point being that maybe he wouldn’t find something if it wasn’t in the daylight. He sulked in his cell. That's how Carol found him. Deep in thought but she spoke to him either way, “Daryl?” He slowly turned his attention to her. She swallowed her nerves and began again, “I’m so sorry… Her death is on me.” He felt anger rising in him. He knew Carol was remorseful but suggesting that you were already dead? That made him grit his teeth, “Not yer fault, shit happens and you didn’t mean to.” She felt relief until his voice grumbled in displeasure, “An she ain’t dead yet so watch it.” His eyes stare daggers into her, causing her to leave in shame.

He rested his eyes knowing he would sleep a few hour and then go back to the watch tower. Leaning into the side you normally took, he relished in the slightest smell of you in the sheets. He had doubts about having a relationship. Due to past experience and a lack of trust he held with people. When he started to care for you he found he was scared to, not wanting to lose you one day. But he couldn’t deny you after a while. You were to tempting and god did you not give him everything he ever wanted in a partner. He tried to stop his racing thoughts due to not wanting to work himself up.

He tried sleeping, more like sat there with his eyes closed but he got a few minutes in between just laying there. Eventually becoming too restless and going to the watch tower. He knew he should try sleeping more. He would need the energy for the next search but, he couldn’t bring himself to rest with you not beside him.

Your POV

You were driving at a moderate pace, not wanting a walker to step in the road and crash into it. However halfway back you felt it staling. When you saw the gas tank was running on empty you knew you would have to walk eventually. But privy to the luck you had with the medication it soon ran out. You saw a bunch of silhouettes farther into the road. Coming straight at you probably due to your headlights. Then the speed you had been maintaining stopped. You pulled the car over to the side as it sputtered to a stop. Locking the doors and turning the car off. Hopefully the herd you saw wasn’t to big and you could wait for it to pass. You moved to try and crawl into the back crashing to the floor.

You sat there trying to remain calm and quiet when the sound of hundreds of feet shuffled pass you. Some ran into the car making you jump. This horde was a big one but at least now it wasn’t on route to the prison. It felt like ages cramped down between the seats. Your stomach growling at you. What you would do to chug some water. You spaced out looking to the window seeing the occasional shadow pass by outside. Thoughts running through your mind. It suddenly felt like many you had slept a few more hours then you thought. You think it was maybe 3 but then you remembered Benadryl made you fall asleep for at least 12. So the question is, ‘Was I asleep a whole day?’

When the shuffling an smell of rotten meat had stopped. The silence is what brought you from thought. You would wait some more not wanting to run into strays or have the horde turn around because it heard you. You at least sat up in the back. Looking forward you could see a few slower walkers making their way with the crowd. Waiting and watching them until they were a fair distance you got out. Softly closing the door you walked the opposite to them back to the prison. You had wished the car had a working clock in it to tell you if it was close to dawn. But a hour into walking the sky changed the ever so slight difference of blue.

You were hungry and thirsty so the longer you walked the more exhausted you felt. You stepped into the trees close to the road. Electing to sit down and take a break. You watch the sunrise. The cold breeze seeming to warm a little. Maybe you should have found a coat before leaving that house. Granted you thought you’d be in the car. Staring out to the orange sky. Some emotions washed over you. Having a moment to stop and think finally put you back into having to think of what almost happened. This sunrise you sat watching you almost missed. Not only that but you thought about Daryl a little more. Your relationship was slow, almost like you both were afraid to miss step. You couldn’t care about any of that now. You sniffled standing back up. Deciding then and there.

You were going to just love him without restriction.

With such determination, you walked again. Only about 8 more miles left until you get there. The bottom of your feet hurt. You had a pinch in your side. It reminds you of all that ground you used to cover after the farm. Mostly it was driving but there were cases where it was back to walking. Like hunting with Daryl or finding gasoline. Stumbling along the sky was now just blue. Morning birds chirping in trees. You had only walked 3 out of the 8 miles so far. Taking notice that the herd must have cleared a good portion of the walkers because you had yet to see one. You sat down right on the road again. What you would do for some pasta right now. Thought of food making your stomach rumble. Sighing and getting back up again you walked a little slower than you first started. You had to keep going.

You look down to your feet as you walk. A hand pressing into the ache of your side. A distance rumble that wasn’t your stomach caught your ear. The closer it came you realize it was someone using the road! You spotted a car in the distance. The green jeep Glenn and Maggie often used. Sighing in relief, the thought of not having to walk another step was a blessing. You put your hands on your hips stopping in place waiting for them to get closer. But what caught your eye was Daryl’s bike behind them. A smile plastered on your face. You started laughing, it was a way to release some of the emotion bubbled into you. You give a small wave to the now closer jeep. You knew the moment they spotted you because the car seemed to jerk in surprise. The car rolled to a stop next to you. Daryl seemingly lost in thought only slowing seeing the jeep stopped.

By the time you saw him look up and lock eyes he didn’t even let his bike stop fully before jumping off and running to you. You were tired and disheveled looking but oddly so did Daryl. When he reached you he crashed into you lifting you off your feet into an embrace. The cold you had unknowingly gotten used to was replaced by Daryl’s warmth. He was breathing at a fast pace while you melted into him. Tears of relief were in your eyes about to fall when Daryl pulled back and kissed you with desperation. Never before have you been kissed in such a way. With so much… love. This was new to you both loving another like this. So you returned the kiss with just as much heart. Pulling back for air you both huffed staring at each other. The look in his eyes shock you. Never seeing him on the verge of tears made you actually break into your own. Sobbing and clinging to him in desperation with words flooded out of your mouth, “I love *hiccup* you- so much!” Your exhausted state delaying the flood of emotions. You were on survival mode and it wasn’t until feeling safe again that everything hit you.

You felt another hand on your back looking over Daryl’s shoulder to see Maggie with tears of her own with a smiling Glenn behind her. The shock and fear replaced by a laugh that unconditionally rolled out of you. Daryl had his head shoved into your neck, you could feel the dampness of his tears on your skin. You both still keeping a tight hold on the other. Glenn was the one to state in disbelief what mostly all of them had thought, “How the hell you manage to be alive right now is beyond me!” It is what made Daryl pull back to check you for injury’s. You watch as his face scans you. You pulled a hand away to grab the bottle and EpiPen you found with a smile. Looking down to the more then half gone bottle you gave a sheepish smile, “Luck or a refusal of death, I’m not to sure.”

A loud growl in your stomach pushed Daryl into gear, “We gotta get her back.” It’s the first words you’ve heard him say. He was obviously still in protector mode and will fall out of it when he knows you’re ok for real. But you couldn’t disagree with going back home, “How long have I been gone?” You were leaning into Daryl’s side, his arm around you while walking to his bike that had fallen over in his rush to see you. He looked down to you sadly moving away with a grunt to lift his bike up, “Almost two days…” He moved sitting on his bike and holding out his hand to help you on. Your eyes were wide with shock moving closer to him, “Well shit. So much for thinking it was about 12 hours.” You lifted yourself up behind him on the bike. You noticed he was confused at your words but that gave him even more reason to get you back and checked by Hershel.

You dozed off on the ride back. Clinging to Daryl you just couldn’t stop your eyes from wanting to close. You were unaware of how truly malnourished and dehydrated you were. Daryl’s hand would slide back and grab your thigh leading you to perk up from being slumped over him. When the prison came into view you sighed in relief leaning your head in between his shoulder blades. It was Carl who pulled open the gate. When Daryl pulled in you could hear Carl screaming your name as he rushed your way. Using Daryl’s shoulders to get off you waited for Carl to crash into you. He hadn’t show this much emotion since his mom died. You hugged him but eventually pulled back, knocking his hat back in place on his head.

A hand to your back was Daryl’s way of trying to pull you inside. Carl saying he needed to stay at the gate for the others. You didn’t realize everyone was out looking for you. Getting out of the bright light of outside made you realize just how bad of a headache you had, a sign of dehydration. First person you see is Herschel reading his Bible. His face immediately filling with a smile at the sight of you, you sheepishly returning it. His fusing over you getting the attention of Beth with Judith in arm to come rushing out of the cell block. More people fusing over you was becoming overwhelming. Your body seemingly running on whatever fumes it has left.

A bowl seemingly appearing in front of you snapping you back from space. You didn’t even realize you spaced out and you started catching up with Hershel speaking, “Yes, but after she eats she should sleep. She needs to eat again in 6 hours. With as many times we’ve struggled with food I’m worried for her internal organs.” You already started eating what was in front of you. It was filled with more meat than you’ve had since the farm! It was definitely hitting a spot but you struggled with eating it all. Apparently them looking for you always got them checking places that still hadn’t been picked through. You stood up and away from the bowl that was still half full. You grabbed the cup of water from the table and turning to Daryl who had a displeased face. You started walking to the cells,

“Come on grumpy I’m going to bed, if I eat anymore I’ll end up throwing it up.”

You could hear him quietly following you. It wasn’t until you rolled onto the bed with a sigh that you looked over at him. You were confused why you hadn’t felt the bed dip but his face had so much to say. The sheet that covered the door was pulled making the room a little darker. He just stood there seeming to not know what to do. “Daryl…” you were pressed up to the wall having your arms open trying to lure him to you. He lay on his side looking at you. He was tired you were sure. Sighing you scoot yourself closer to him. Running a hand up his arms got him to talk, “M’ sorry, just in my head.” He pulled an arm to wrap around your waist. He gulped looking at you with eyes that could stab a dagger through your heart.

His hand moving from your waist to your face and holding it there, “I didn’t know you were my everything.” You can only look at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly open in shock. Looking on to his glassy eyes while they roamed your being. Sleep was calling you yes… but he was basically screaming for you with his eyes. ‘Everything?’ You could only wonder how he felt thinking you were somewhere dead. His fingers move to bring the hair away from your face. Moving your hand to mirror his you looked him dead in the eyes, “I thought I was going to die, the only reason I didn’t was because of you.” His eyebrows furrowed so you continued,

“My last thoughts were of you. I was going to write you a letter and when I empty a school bag near me for something to write on the meds came falling out with it.”

You could feel him take in a big breath to try and steel himself but you inch closer with determination. ”The only reason I tried so hard was to come back to the one thing I had, you.” You give him a quick peck leaning back for him to come hold you closer to him in a tight grip. He mumbled out something while outstretched over you… “I love you so much it burns.” That's all it took to drift you into sleep with a smile.

When it comes to 'picking your poison.' Daryl will always go to choose you.

Feedback welcome and requests open! [Sorry for lack of posts schedule is back to every other day!]

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #norman reedus #twd daryl #angst #fluff

470 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 11 months

Text

White Lies

summary: when you come back to work soon after getting injured on a case, all you can think about is keeping the public safe from your latest unsub; Spencer's thinking about keeping you safe

cw: case involves kidnapped and murdered women, but no details are given

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 981 words

You’re aching from sitting up straight in your chair, but you do your best to ignore it. You keep your eyes firmly on the screen as JJ presents an overview of your new case, doing your best to look engaged and attentive. A consequence of your job is extraordinarily perceptive coworkers, which means that when you have something you want to keep to yourself, you often have to go to inconvenient lengths to avoid notice. You’d hustled like never before when you’d gotten the call to come in, getting yourself situated in the briefing room a good ten minutes before anyone else arrived. That meant no one had been around to see you limping into the building, taking your time to sit down in your chair, or downing two extra-strength pain relievers with your coffee.

Emily had expressed some surprise at seeing you back at work so soon after you were injured in the field and you’d gotten an odd look from Spencer, but neither of them had time to question you further before Hotch entered and began asking for details about the case. This one’s got to do with women being kidnapped and subsequently dumped in rural Texas, and not to be dramatic, but no physical pain can be worse than the torment of not being able to help catch the guy who’s doing this to them. All you have to do now is avoid giving anyone on your team reason to question your capability.

“News networks have already published some details of the case, so we’ve got some damage control to do,” JJ finishes, “but the local law enforcement is very eager for our help and it seems like they’re going to be open to what we have to say.”

“Good. Y/N.” Hotch isn’t even looking up from the case, but you snap to attention. “You’re cleared to travel?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He snaps the binder shut. “Wheels up in thirty.”

Everyone else stands, and you stall, waiting until all backs are turned before pushing yourself up out of your chair with a grimace. Spencer turns around at the door, stepping aside for Garcia to pass through, and then you’re alone.

“You’re cleared to travel?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you repeat yourself.

Spencer crosses his arms, standing just barely in front of the door. You could push past him if you really wanted to leave, but he knows you won’t. You and Spencer haven’t been together for long, but he’s always had a way of reading you when even the other members of your team can’t. You keep your face carefully blank. “You’ve barely had any time to heal,” he says. “Who would clear you?”

“A doctor.”

“What doctor?”

You sigh, crossing your arms to match him. “My friend Maggie.”

Spencer’s eyebrows knit together. “Doesn’t your friend Maggie live in Chicago?”

“She does,” you admit.

“So how did she determine that you were safe for travel?”

He’s frowning like he already knows. You think about not answering (what’s he going to do, whine to Hotch about it? They need everyone they can get for a time-sensitive case like this, and you know Spencer is just as aware of that as you are), but then you catch the flicker of worry in his gaze. It’s hard to be angry at him when he’s clearly doing what he thinks will help you most. “We talked on the phone,” you say, softly but still firm enough that you hope he won’t argue further. “I told her I feel fine, and she cleared me.”

The sigh that leaves Spencer is so long and heavy you’re surprised his ghost doesn’t come out at the end of it. “Sweetheart,” he says, coming forward to wrap his hands around your arms. His thumbs rub synchronized paths, up and down on the skin above your elbows. “You know that’s not the same as having a doctor actually check you over. We both know you’re not fragile—” he gives you a small smile, and you feel a tug on the corners of your lips in response “—but your body is vulnerable right now. The last thing you need is to make it worse by getting hurt again in the field.”

You can’t look him in the eyes. You can handle a verbal lashing, but it’s softness like this that wears you down, and Spencer knows it. You fix your gaze on his chin, trying to think past the sproutling of guilt he’s sneakily planted in your gut.

Spencer gives your arms a light squeeze. “Let me just talk to Hotch,” he says, pushing his advantage. “I’ll tell him about the mixup with your clearance, and then he can decide if you should still come along on this one or not. I’m sure Garcia could use the help if you stay back.”

You look at him, feeling like a kid chastened for being outside after dark. “Garcia’s a one-woman army, she doesn’t need me. You guys need all the manpower you can get for this case.”

“I know.” Spencer’s tone is consoling, and that only makes it worse. He drops a kiss on the top of your head. “But I need you to be safe even more than that. Hotch might still decide to let you come, okay? Just…you have to be honest about these things, sweetheart.” He gives you a disappointed look, and you have to look away from his eyes, well-meaning as they are. “Your health is a serious thing. We need you for years, not just for today.” He ducks, catching your gaze. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you say quietly, and Spencer gives you a smile, kissing your cheek.

“Okay, just give me a minute,” he says, and if he weren’t on the way to foil all your plans, you’d say he looks downright merry as he starts towards Hotch’s office. “I’ll let you know what he says.”

1K notes · View notes

daryl-dixon-daydreams · 8 months

Text

Words: 4,692 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: War with the Saviors, specifically TWD S8 E13 after the battle at Hilltop Warnings: fear and anxiety, language, angst alert! Summary: You took an arrow to the shoulder during the battle at Hilltop and when the injured are sickened and turn, Daryl realizes his worst fear is going to come to pass.

“What the hell happened!?” Daryl spat, looking around at the now still corpses in the main entryway.

“I dunno,” Rick growled, spinning. “Maybe walkers got in?”

“Maybe during the fight,” Morgan echoed.

Daryl scrutinized the bodies. “These—these are all our own people though…”

Suddenly, there was a scream from upstairs and they raced up to find Carol standing over Tobin’s now silent body, blood dripping from the end of her knife.

“Are ya alrigh’?” Daryl asked, surveying the scene. Rick and Maggie stepped in beside him.

“Yeah,” gasped Carol. Her eyes were fixed on Tobin’s body. “He—he wasn’t bit. But he turned.”

They all exchanged tense and confused glances until Rick spoke. “Negan’s bat… when I was out there with him, it was covered in walker blood. I just thought he’d crossed some but… maybe…”

“They have us workin’ for them again,” Maggie said. “Killin’ our own.”

“Poisoned weapons with walker blood?” Carol said. “It’s some sick biological warfare.” Her eyes drifted back down to Tobin’s pale body on the floor and her heart ached.

Daryl didn’t say another word and abruptly left the room, his boot steps receding rapidly down the hall.

“Daryl?” Carol called after him, moving to the doorway.

Rick hung his head and passed a hand over his eyes. Maggie put a hand on Carol’s shoulder. “It’s—” Her throat was tight and she had to clear it before she could get more out. “It’s Y/N,” she said quietly. “She took an arrow in the back of her shoulder.”

Carol’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God…” Her wide eyes met Maggie’s and stung with tears.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face and paced a tight circle. “And Tara too. And who knows,” he kicked out at the nearby dresser, “how many others.” He fell to cursing Negan, though he knew it wouldn’t help.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl lingered at the closed door for a long moment, staring at the wood, his hand moving to grip the door knob a couple times before falling down to his side. Finally, he grasped it and turned, pushing into the room.

You were asleep in the bed and Enid was sitting beside you. At the expression on her face, his stomach dropped through the floor. She looked worried, and had apparently been studying you. She shot up to her feet as Daryl softly closed the door behind him and stood there looking grim.

“What was all that shouting?” Enid asked.

Daryl gulped, his eyes fixed on you in the bed. “How is she?”

Enid hesitated and then returned to your side. She shook her head. “Her wound wasn’t life-threatening. But—”

“But what?” Daryl urged her to go on.

Enid looked down at your face again. “She looks pale and—I don’t know. Her breathing changed.” She glanced back up at Daryl, her brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

Daryl hesitated for one moment and then walked over to your bedside and scrutinized your face. You indeed looked ashen, and there were small beads of sweat starting to form near your hairline. His stomach churned. He met Enid’s questioning gaze and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, trying to gain control of the wild emotions threatening to crush him at that moment. “We think The Saviors did somethin’ to their weapons. Ev’rybody that got wounded last night turned.”

Enid’s eyes went back to you asleep in the bed. “No,” she breathed with horror. “Oh my God.”

Daryl nodded, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough that the tang of copper filled his mouth. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat and did his best to appear steadfast. “Ya should go check on Tara.” His eyes strayed back to you again. “I’ve got this…”

Enid nodded, and with one final look at you and one anxious glance at Daryl, she quietly left the room.

Daryl stood at the end of the bed for a moment, watching the subtle rising and falling of the blanket over your chest. He thought it did seem a bit shallow. He slowly wandered over to the bedside and drew the chair closer, sinking down on it heavily and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his face. His brow tensed. The rising panic was returning. Your hand was lying on top of the quilt and his eyes traced the graceful curve of your fingers.

Part of him wanted to wake you, to see your eyes open and hopefully, clear. But another part of him knew he should let you sleep while you could.

It was short-lived.

Your breathing became shallower and more rapid and the clamminess of your skin increased. You stirred beneath the blanket and pushed it off, your eyes opening and a grimace passing over your face as you stared up at the ceiling.

Daryl leaned forward and you turned when you noticed him beside you, managing a tired smile. “Daryl,” you said softly, looking up at him. The corners of your eyes still crinkled even though the smile was a bit weak.

He chewed on his bottom lip. His anxiety was plain. Deep furrows were evident between his brows.

It didn’t take you long to remark on your condition on your own. You lifted a hand to wipe at the sweat on your forehead and then a shiver ran through you. He saw it clearly and tugged the blanket back up over you. “I’m sick,” you said. It was almost a question and then your eyes found his again. He saw mild confusion in them. “Daryl,” you said again. He looked so grim standing beside you. He held your eyes for only a brief moment before he felt the bubble of emotion rising up his throat and threatening to burst and he had to squeeze them shut. “What’s happened?” you asked. You reached for his hand, which was dangling at his side, and his eyes shot open again and looked at your fingertips touching his softly. He took your hand in his gently and warmed your fingers. Then his blue eyes found your ashen face again.

He felt like someone had rammed an icy blade up between his lungs and into his heart. He fought with emotion again and struggled to clear his throat enough to speak. Your eyes flickered between his, worried and puzzled. He opened his mouth to speak but then ducked his head one more time, passing his free hand over his eyes and drawing in a shaky breath. “They—the Saviors,” he started, his voice a mere whisper, “they did somethin’ to their weapons.” He swallowed down the tightness in his chest with great effort. “Ev’rybody who got hurt in the fight is either sick or—or already turned.” He waited for your reaction and forgot to breathe.

Understanding washed over your face and your expression fell, but you simply nodded. You seemed to shrink away into some depths within your eyes and Daryl was afraid he wouldn’t be able to reach you again. He fell into the seat at your bedside again and squeezed your hand. What could he say? There was nothing to say. No words would help at a time like this. You were going to die. It was that simple. And nothing he could say would fix it or make it any better. Your name caught in his throat and you looked over at him again. “I—‘m so sorry,” he said. His voice broke and the sound of it cut both of you like a scalpel. You were both wounded from this happening, and you would die, but Daryl would be left carrying that wound for the rest of his life. Why did you have to be the one to… Why couldn’t it have been him who was hurt? You of all people—it was too hard to bear. He should have been there. He should have protected you. He should have stopped it!

Your eyes grew glassy and a few tears escaped. You laced your fingers with his and gave him a sad smile, guessing his whirling thoughts. “It’s not your fault,” you told him. “They did this. It’s not your fault.”

He felt himself crumbling. “‘M so sorry,” he breathed again. He clasped your hand firmly between his and lifted it towards his mouth, but he didn’t press it to his lips, though he wanted to. His head dropped and you could tell he was struggling not to go to pieces. He was always trying to be strong, even when he didn’t need to.

“It’s okay,” you breathed. “It’s okay…”

“No, it ain’t,” he whispered back. His voice was shaky. “Nothin’ ‘bout this is okay. That bastard’s gonna pay for—”

A grimace tightened your features and your breath hitched. The sound stopped Daryl mid-sentence. He rested your hand back down on the blanket and a panicked look crossed his face. “What? What is it?”

Your eyes closed for a moment. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head against the pillow. “It’s nothing. Just—hurts a little. Aches is all. It’s okay. I’m okay…”

Daryl gulped down his emotion and regained himself. “‘M gonna be righ’ here. Ya ain’t gonna be alone. Okay?” His thumb moved against the silky skin on the back of your hand and you nodded.

“I know,” you said, managing another weak smile.

Suddenly, the door opened quietly and Enid came back in with Maggie trailing behind her. Both of you looked up.

Enid’s face fell as she readily saw your worsened condition. Maggie’s eyes filled with a glassy light as she came to stand beside Daryl.

“How’s Tara?” Daryl asked.

“She’s not sick,” Enid replied. “No sign of the fever yet.”

“Good,” Daryl said, staring back at the paleness of your hand in his.

“But we’ve got six more so far in here, and likely more outside. I sent Carol and Jesus to check on everyone, including the prisoners,” Maggie said. She bent down and stroked your hair. Her eyes filled with tears again. “‘M so sorry,” she whispered to you. “Do ya need anythin’? Anything we can do to make you more comfortable, just ask and we’ll do everything we can.”

Daryl’s head dropped and his eyes squeezed shut. “I’ll—‘m gonna be righ’ back,” he murmured. He met your eyes again. Your brow was furrowed and you were watching him carefully. “‘M gonna be back in just a minute. I promise,” he said softly.

The chair made a harsh noise as he stood up and your eyes tracked him all the way out the door.

Out in the hall, Daryl put some distance between himself and your room, striding down to the end of the hall and standing at the window, staring out at the beginnings of dawn just starting to tickle the deep blue sky with shots of pink and yellow. His fists clenched and his nails cut in little red crescent moon marks on his palms. How the fuck was the sun still coming up when you were laying in a bed dying? It felt like nothing should go on as normal ever again. He suddenly kicked out at the tall wooden cabinet beside him and it rocked and wobbled. And then he broke down. His head dropped and it was all he could do not to scream in agony at the painful chasm in his chest, sticking between his lungs and growing larger and larger as you paled and ached in that bed. Tears poured down his face and he pressed his forehead to the coolness of the glass in front of him.

He startled as a hand landed lightly on his shoulder and he hurriedly mopped his face, but when he turned he knew Maggie had already seen his overwhelming distress and grief. His shoulders shuddered as he gasped in a ragged breath and he shook his head. He saw his own pain, or some version of it, reflected on her face, and he thought of Glenn.

She only nodded and pulled him into a hug briefly. He sniffled and managed to get his breaking under control again. “Go on and be with her again. Enid and I will look after the others. Listen—when it’s time to say goodbye—”

He nodded. “I’ll send somebody to get ya’ll,” he croaked out. He mopped at his damp face again and pulled in a breath.

“Daryl, if you haven’t already, you need to tell her,” Maggie said. And with that, she headed downstairs.

Daryl took a few more deep breaths, steeled himself, and rushed back to your room. Enid gave you a kind smile and released her hold on your hand and quietly took her leave. Daryl swallowed hard and came to sit beside you again. Your eyes followed him across the room.

Your skin was feverish and he could see it making your hair and clothes damp. Had those dark circles been beneath your eyes when he’d stepped out? How long was he gone? How many minutes? It couldn’t have been more than a few, and yet you looked far worse… He got up and went to a pitcher and basin on the chest of drawers and poured in some water. Pulling out the bandana he always carried, he dunked it into the bowl and carried the whole thing over to the nightstand.

You watched him swirl the cloth in the water and wring it out. He pressed it to your forehead and it was cool. Your eyes were still trained on him. He knew you’d likely be able to tell why he’d stepped out of the room. “Here. Drink a little water if ya can,” he said, helping you with a glass Enid had brought.

You swallowed thickly and he set it aside again. “Are you alright?” you asked him. Your voice sounded thin.

He let out a dry laugh as he refreshed his bandana in the water again and dabbed at your neck. “Yer askin’ me that?” he drawled.

“Daryl,” you said softly, and your hand came up to grip his wrist, surprisingly strong. He met your eyes again and yours flickered between his.

He bit down on his bottom lip hard, trying to fight back the tidal wave and scream in his chest. Tears stung his eyes as he looked at you. Your hand floated back to the bed and the place your fingers had been felt hot. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “No,” he said. “I ain’t alrigh’. And I dunno if I’ll—if I will be.”

A shiver ran through you and Daryl tossed his bandana back down in the bowl and helped you pull the blankets up to your chin. You sighed and your eyes shut for a long moment. Daryl was afraid they wouldn’t open again, but they did. And when you looked straight at him, they seemed clearer somehow, and you smiled at him again despite the devastation written all over his face.

“What’re you smilin’ ‘bout?” he asked. There was a rasp to his voice.

“You,” you breathed. “Just you.”

He ducked his head, listening to each of your breaths, analyzing them for any change. He was far too aware of his knife on his hip.

“I need you to promise me something,” you said.

“Anythin’,” he nodded, leaning in.

“Don’t let this consume you. Please. Negan’s taken enough. Don’t end up one of the casualties too. You have so much good in you. Don’t let him take that away.”

He stared at you for a long moment and then suddenly stood up and leaned over you. His rough fingers brushed gently at your hair and then clasped your face. In that moment, maybe some trick of the changing light, but he thought you looked less ashen. He saw more color in your lips and in your cheeks. Your eyes were bright.

He kissed you then. His lips landed flush against the soft pillow of yours, and it was tender and wanting and desperate and soft all at the same time. He tried to put everything he wanted to say into that kiss. It lasted only a few seconds, but both of you mourned the separation, felt the profoundness of that connection as it had shifted your whole world. He sank back down at your bedside and grabbed your hand in his again, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. He refused to take his eyes off you now.

A smile grew slowly on your face and though your eyelids were heavy, the outer corners of your eyes smiled too, like they always did. “How’d you know that was on my bucket list? ‘Kiss Daryl Dixon.’”

He brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers and shook his head at you.

“I can die happy now,” you said.

“I shoulda told ya every damn day… I thought—I thought we had more time.” His voice broke on the last word.

“So did I,” you agreed. “Life’s a motherfucker like that,” you said dryly.

He almost laughed. “What ‘m tryin’ to say is I—ya know, I—” The words stuck in his chest. He couldn’t seem to get them out no matter how much he wanted to. I’ve been in love with you almost since I met ya.

“I know,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to say it, Daryl. I felt it too.” Your eyes closed again and you sighed, another grimace passed your face as your joints and muscles throbbed. “I’m not sure I can stay awake much longer,” you murmured. “I’m so tired.” You forced your eyes open again. “Would you lay with me? Please?”

Daryl’s chest ached so intensely he thought he would die of it. “Course I will.”

He came around to the other side of the bed and climbed on, scooting over toward your side until your body was almost against his. “C’mere,” he drawled, and he gently looped his arm underneath you and pulled you toward him. You felt featherlight in his arms. You laid tucked in against his body and closed your eyes. This close to you, he could easily hear your every breath, feel every shudder of your body, feel the fever and the chills—but he could also feel the shape of you, your weight, breathe your smell. Your head rested against his shoulder and nuzzled toward the crook of his neck.

“I’m so tired,” you said again, sighing. He could feel your breath on his skin. The silence stretched and his rough fingers drew absent shapes on the bare skin of your arm. Your weight grew heavier against him. “I want you to know… it’s alright if you can’t do it. At the end… It doesn’t have to be you. I need you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. Someone else can…” you trailed off.

He gulped and nodded. “I’mma be righ’ here.”

“I know,” you whispered. Your eyes were closed. “I love you…”

He pressed a kiss to your hair. “I love ya too...” His voice broke, but you didn’t hear it. You were already asleep.

He didn’t know how long he had laid there with you. He was still scrutinizing your every breath and every moment, waiting for the horrific change to take place, or waiting for you to awake in agony as the sickness progressed. But so far, you just slept on. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to, anyway.

Eventually, the door creaked open and Rick stepped in barely over the threshold before he froze, seeing Daryl there with you on the bed. They locked eyes for a moment, Rick’s eyes grew glassy and he gave a nod, but then he immediately retreated. No one should intrude on that scene. And he made sure no one would, unless they were called for.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was staring at the bright sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains. He had no concept of time as he lay there with you asleep against him. Every moment felt agonizingly long and cruelly short at the same time. He was watching the dust particles floating in the currents of air when you stirred. Your hand landed flush to the center of his chest and you turned on your side almost curling into him. He gently took your hand in his and ran his thumb over your soft skin.

Your stirred again and let out a sigh, stretching beside him. Your eyes blinked open. “Daryl…” you said suddenly.

He squeezed your hand gently. “Yeah. ‘M righ’ here.”

“I—I know.” You pushed yourself up on the palm of your hand, still angled in toward him. “Daryl, look at me.”

He did. Your eyes were wide and surprised, but beyond that you looked… like yourself. The color was back in your face, in your lips. Your eyes were bright and clear. You looked well. Your name slipped past his lips.

“I’m not sick,” you said with disbelief. “I don’t feel—I mean, my bones felt like glass before. And—I’m not hot or cold. I—”

Daryl was sitting up now too, staring at you bewildered. He clasped your face and pressed his hand to your forehead. You didn’t feel feverish. Your skin wasn’t clammy. “Ya ain’t sick…” he drawled, the same disbelief dripping from every word. “Ya ain’t—” A laugh bubbled out of you as he popped up onto his knees, kneeling in front of you on the bed, staring with bafflement. “How—how?”

You shook your head. “I—I don’t know…” you stammered, your heart racing. “I felt—I was dying. I felt it. And now—I still feel like I got hit by a truck, and my shoulder hurts like a bitch but—I’m not sick.”

Daryl took your face in both of his hands and his lips crashed down onto yours. You arched into him and kissed him back, relishing the feeling of his hands drifting down to your waist and gently pressing on your lower back to pull you in against him. He still looked dumbfounded when the two of you broke apart, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“I gotta—we gotta—” Daryl vaulted himself off the bed, leaving you kneeling in the middle of it, surrounded by the rumpled blankets. He ripped the door open and shouted out into the hallway. “Maggie! Enid!” He turned back to stare at you, his chest heaving as he seemed to have lost his breath. A stampede of footsteps answered and soon Enid, Maggie, Rosita, Rick, Michonne, Carol—even Tara—were bursting in looking grim and worried. Seeing their expressions, Daryl realized they all thought it was time to say goodbye to you. He hurried to correct their assumption. “She—she ain’t sick. Look! Her fever’s gone and she—she ain’t sick anymore.”

All eyes drifted to you sitting upright on the bed, almost looking as if nothing had happened to you at all.

Enid stepped forward, shock written on her face, and you could only smile as she reached a hand out and pressed the back of it to your forehead. She snapped around to look at everyone else again, a teary smile on her face. “She doesn’t have a fever,” she said, shaking her head.

A whoop went up through the room and soon nearly everyone was hugging you and kissing your cheek, patting you on the back as if you’d done anything at all consciously. But Daryl simply stood by the door, leaned up against the wall watching the scene with a teary smile on his face that wasn’t budging. As the last of your family hugged you, your eyes connected with his again and you felt a shock of electricity run up your back and butterflies erupted in your chest.

“I—I don’t understand how this is possible!” Carol laughed happily.

Rick was shaking his head, smiling.

“Has anyone ever heard of this happening before?” Rosita asked. “I mean, should we still be worried?”

Enid shrugged and shook her head, looking at a loss. “Well, it’s not the same as a bite. It seems like maybe her body was able to fight off the infection.”

Rick rubbed a thoughtful hand over his face. “Maybe it’s like how some people get sick from gutting up the first time, some people the twentieth, and some people never do.”

“Some combination of immune system and dosage maybe,” Maggie said thoughtfully, her eyes still glassy with happy tears.

“Well, whatever it is, thank God. We needed another win,” Michonne said.

Enid nodded and looked back at you on the bed. Daryl was still leaned up against the wall by the door. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. “She may not have a fever anymore but I don’t want to push it. Back in bed,” she said, grabbing hold of the blankets again. “I want you to rest. Your body has been through a lot.”

You moved a little gingerly laying down again, realizing now that your shoulder that had taken the poisoned arrow did still hurt a lot. “I’ll rest… feels like I’m still trying to shake the worse flu of my life.” Exhaustion was settling back over you again. The adrenaline had waned. But your cheeks and lips still had a healthy, rosy glow.

Enid filled the glass on the nightstand with fresh water again for you and instructed everyone to leave so you could sleep. Everyone listened, except Daryl. And somehow, everyone knew he was the exception.

He shut the door softly behind Tara as she went out and the two of you were alone again. He wandered back over to the bedside and you looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes growing tired again.

“Are you still going to keep watch over me?” you asked him.

He nodded. “Mhm… now and every damn day of yer life. If you’ll have me that is…” he said a little abashedly, ducking his head. “Actually, ‘m gonna do that whether ya want me to or not.”

You smiled. “Can you do that from in this bed again? Please?”

“Are ya kiddin’?” He climbed in beside you again and you rolled toward him, tucking yourself into his body. Your breathing was strong and steady; no sign of the ragged, shallow respiration that had plagued you overnight.

“You want to know what I think saved me?” you asked, resting your head on his chest, your arm draped over him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, now feeling his own exhaustion settle over him like a heavy blanket. Now that the terror and devastation and fear and grief had receded, he was drained.

“I think you cured me. With that kiss,” you said, and he could hear a smile in your voice. “Love saved us. The universe decided it couldn’t separate us.”

Daryl let out an amused exhale. “I ain’t magic. Pretty sure this ain’t a fairy tale.”

You sighed and nuzzled against the crook of his neck. “I’m starting to think it might be,” you whispered sleepily.

Daryl’s cheek pressed against the top of your head. He tugged you in more snugly and paused thoughtfully. “Well… I do kinda gotta agree with ya there. Now, sleep,” he hushed you. “I dun wanna risk anythin’. Ya need rest.”

“You too,” you said with a yawn. “And now we’ve got time.”

#daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon reader insert #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

786 notes · View notes

twilightcitysky · 1 year

Text

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 1)

I cannot figure out for the life of me how to make gifs so this will have to be a gif-less essay. If anyone more tech savvy than me wants to reblog with relevant media, please do!

I've seen a lot of people saying how Aziraphale's actions in the final ten minutes come out of left field and are OOC, and when I first watched the episode I felt the same, but now I think I couldn't have been more wrong. And I don't think Aziraphale is being controlled... I think the entire season showed us exactly what was going to happen.

On first watch, what struck me was the number of plot points that seemed disconnected. I couldn't figure out how Job related to the present, or the Victorian era, or the Nazi zombies (still at sea on the zombies part tbh). I didn't know where the Maggie/ Nina subplot was going, or why we were bothering with it. Then I put my "psych hat" on and it was like seeing one of those 3D pictures come into focus. It's a psychological networking rather than a plot-driven one, which is what Neil told us to expect.

Detailed analysis under the cut, with spoilers:

I went back through the season in my head and started asking myself: why is this element there? What does it contribute?

1. Start with scene one. Why include it? Does it matter for the climax that Az knew Crowley as an angel? YES. It's actually huge. Angel Crowley was joyful, he was bursting with delight at creation, he was idealistic. He wanted to be a part of everything rather than run away from it, and that's still how Aziraphale feels. He loves being a part of things. He's a joiner. He's a landlord. He dances at clubs and he makes human friends and he learns magic. Crowley the demon doesn't seem to want any of that, and I think that's hard for Az. He wants Crowley to be free of the cynicism he thinks prevents him from enjoying life now. At some level, I think he senses that Crowley is depressed (empathy's not his strong suit but I'm sure he's aware that Crowley's in a "what's the point of it all" kind of mood; see the eccles cakes scene). He wants to fix it. Aziraphale is a fixer. Metatron offers him a chance to do that.

Another thing is that Aziraphale knows Crowley ended up Falling just for asking questions that seemed innocent. That's not okay with him. He thinks that with the two of them in charge they can actually MAKE the changes that Crowley wanted to see way back at the beginning, starting with a suggestion box.

2. Okay, now Jim. Obviously Gabriel/ Jim is the central mystery, but why does he matter? First and foremost: he's there to show Aziraphale that angels can CHANGE. Gabriel terrorized and threatened Aziraphale. Az has been terrified of him. He ordered Aziraphale's execution. And now here he is, drinking hot chocolate, doing noble self-sacrificing things, with morals that suddenly align with Aziraphale's. What an absolute game-changer that must have been! He thought Heaven was unfixable, but here's Gabriel in his shop for weeks, slowly convincing him otherwise.

Then two other things happen. First, they find out that this all happened to Gabriel essentially because he fell in love. He was fired and his memories were stolen and the only reason he recovered was because Beelzebub happened to give him the one thing that could save him. That must have seemed like incredible luck. Now, how does Aziraphale feel about memories? He lives in a bookshop that is stuffed to bursting with the records of all of human history, essentially. His memories of his time with Crowley are incredibly precious. He sees, there at the end, that everything he is can be taken from him as a punishment for falling in love. Aziraphale doesn't have a magic fly container. He'd be forever robbed of Crowley, his life, himself. It's a very real threat in his mind when Metatron intervenes.

Which brings us to the second thing. Metatron saves Gabriel. Not only that, he prevents him from being punished for loving Beelzebub and lets them both go. What better way to win currency with Aziraphale? HE doesn't want to go off to Alpha Centauri, he never has, but suddenly he sees that Metatron might protect his relationship. And he's probably the only entity with the power to do so.

So we come to two conclusions: Aziraphale, when he goes off to talk with Metatron, is feeling like maybe it's not intrinsically bad to be an angel. He believed all the angels sucked, and only God was good... but now he sees that even Gabriel can change. He met Muriel, and he likes them. (He also had a huge crush on angel Crowley, which is neither here nor there but he loves Crowley in all his forms.) So if Crowley became an angel again, would that really be so bad? In his mind, it wouldn't change who Crowley is. It would just make them both safer and allow them to be together. (He's wrong! And Crowley doesn't see it that way! But this is a key miscommunication. Aziraphale doesn't really believe that becoming a demon changed Crowley. Back to the first scene, which Aziraphale references during the Job minisode. In his eyes, Crowley is the same person (just more cynical because of what's happened to him)-- so why would it matter if he's an angel again? I truly don't think he was trying to save Crowley, or saying that Crowley would be Better as an angel. To him, it doesn't matter what Crowley is. Which is reductive and harmful, but not the same as thinking Crowley needs rescuing from himself.)

Second conclusion: he sees that an angel and demon can be in love, but they have to run away to be together. Gabe and Beelz couldn't go home again. Earth is Aziraphale's home, but after the attack on the bookshop he learned that without Heaven's protection he can't really keep them safe there. Metatron says: "Come with me, do this thing, and you can have guaranteed safety AND be with the love of your life". Poor Aziraphale wants this with every fiber of his being. All he's ever wanted was for Crowley to be safe. He's never been able to offer it. Over the past four years, he thought they were safe, but he's just learned that he was wrong.

This is getting long. Continued in Part Two!

#good omens #good omens analysis #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #everything is meant #the psychology of it all #forumulating a TV show in my spare time what can I say #crowley #aziraphale #character analysis #putting the pieces together

2K notes · View notes

brainwormcity · 4 months

Text

The thing that kills me about the ball so much is that Aziraphale, beautiful and silly as he is, is trying desperately to hold everything together. In many of those scenes, his eyes are almost manic in their intensity and Neil has even said that the reason Aziraphale's miracles weren't working on Maggie and Nina was because he no longer had the spoons.

He's so overextended and he's trying so, so hard to find just a little bit of joy in all the trouble that's landed at his feet. His bowtie is even a bit askew. Despite his obvious stress, he launches straight from a long trip that only raises more questions to immediately spending all his time and energy planning this ball, both to try to get heaven's eyes off their back and to have a romantic moment with Crowley. He was trying his best.

#good omens #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #ineffable partners #good omens 2 #a/c

438 notes · View notes

lenaellsi · 6 months

Text

if you take "I can make a difference" at face value you simply must also consider "you're the bad guys.” like they are both vital aspects of aziraphale's decision. the problem is not just aziraphale's attempt to lead a corrupt system, it is also his continued belief in the superiority of heaven and angels over hell and demons. that's why crowley was so hurt. it's not just a miscommunication, or a disagreement on the practicalities of changing hearts and minds in heaven--it is a fundamental misunderstanding of morality and of crowley as a person. if crowley had asked aziraphale to come to hell to help fix it and protect the earth, he would not have gone. he says so. it’s not just about safety, or reform. it is about being Good.

and all of this happens because aziraphale is not just motivated by fear and love: he is also motivated by shame. he is insecure in his identity as an angel and a Good Guy, and both his alienation from heaven and his relationship with crowley have always aggravated this insecurity. it’s why shax’s mockery hit him so hard, and why he’s so susceptible to manipulation from the metatron. he desperately wants to be taken seriously and treated with respect and to have power and be an uncomplicated Good Guy, and that is just as much of a motivating factor in his decision as his desire to protect humanity and crowley.

and re: “appoint you to be an angel”: I know people want to insist that aziraphale has never wanted to change anything about crowley, but I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s true. over and over in season 2 aziraphale demonstrates a desire to sand the rough edges off people and things for the sake of the Greater Good, without consideration for the free will or complex emotions of others. obviously this tendency culminates in the ball, where he exerts control over all of the humans to make everything perfect for maggie and nina, and in doing so, infringes on their autonomy and nina’s (crowley’s narrative mirror!) capacity to feel her own anger and sadness. and he has never liked that crowley is a demon. in his mind, the problem has always been that crowley was put in the wrong category, not that the entire system of dividing people and angels into Good and Bad is ridiculous. that’s the exact lesson he needs to learn.

and yes, his intentions are good, absolutely. I don’t think aziraphale ever acts out of malice, and I do think he genuinely wants the best for the people around him, particularly crowley. after all, if crowley is accepted as an angel again, as aziraphale has always secretly considered him to be, their relationship can (in his mind) finally stop being so fraught with danger and conflict. (the other side of that, of course, is that aziraphale can also stop being so ashamed for loving someone who is supposed to be Bad, and everything in his life will make sense again, the way it hasn’t since he met that star maker who got so upset about god’s plan.)

but that’s not who crowley is, and it never has been. even before he fell, crowley’s recklessness and relentless questions made aziraphale uncomfortable. their relationship has never been safe or easy, and in wanting to make it so, aziraphale is demonstrating a desire to change the parts of crowley that led to his fall, whether he intends to or not.

I’m rambling, but the point is: the insistence on reframing this moment as a purely selfless, calculated, self-sacrificing decision by aziraphale to protect crowley and the world ignores the uglier parts of the things he said in order to make their eventual reconciliation less complicated, and it’s really frustrating to me. crowley is in fact right to be upset by what he said, and it’s not just a misunderstanding that can be fixed with aziraphale saying “I was only trying to protect you!” and another kiss. it’s a culmination of all of the double think aziraphale has been doing in order to preserve his vision of heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good since before the beginning of time, and it’s time for him to finally unpack it.

(and because every post on the final fifteen needs a disclaimer: aziraphale is trying his best and has an incredible amount of love in his heart and wants so badly to do good and ALSO the things he says, does, and believes can be incredibly hurtful and destructive. all of these things can be true.)

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #final fifteen #good omens meta #good omens 2 #long post

528 notes · View notes

heathermason6060 · 2 months

Text

Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings

Warnings: serial killer daryl, rough smut, inconsiderate smut, NO noncon, stalking, stealing, mentions of killing

Summary: Daryl can't decide if he wants to kill you, or fuck you. Switches between Daryl's and Readers POV.

Notes: SO SORRY ITS LONG This was really fun but really challenging to write, I tried to keep him as in character as possible, but that's hard when making him a serial killer lol! I'm making this a two pt, with the reader finding out in the next part.

Some days Daryl thought his luck might run out. He'd been lucky for too long. As far as he knew, no one suspected a thing. Every time he'd go out “hunting”, no matter how long he was gone for, he'd always managed to bring back something. Deer, rabbits, squirrels when prey was scarce.

It was easier now that the world had ended to keep it a secret. No threat of cops catching on, no more cameras on every street corner, no need to try to erase every possible trace.

The only thing he found to prove difficult had been finding a place to keep his trophies. He didn't really have a preference, hair, a tooth, or a piece of clothing, it was something he didn't understand the meaning of but something he did each time. He kept it in his room in the vent above his bed, behind a few boxes of books. The week prior he took it down to put the wedding ring of a man who tried attacking Rick out on their supply run, he’d had to restrain himself and keep the stabbing to a minimum because of Rick's presence.

He found himself growing uncomfortably interested in you. A revelation that he really, really didn't like. You were off limits, you were one of Rick's closest friends, you'd been there way too long. And you clearly hadn't done anything deserving of the things he daydreamed about doing to you, unlike the victims he’d killed before.

The more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they came back. His hands around your throat, the way your eyes would tear up as you struggled against him and the fact someone you trusted so much was the one ending your life.

His eyes followed you over the flames of the campfire as you took your plates and went inside. Aaron had hosted a little get together in his yard in Alexandria, cooking dinner for everyone in celebration of the newest addition to the town. Some nobody he found out there on their own, who jumped at the idea of joining a large group of people.

If Daryl had to kill you, he’d keep a lock of your hair.

He couldn't stop staring at it as you went inside. His mind flooded with flashes of pictures of it, his hand in it, stroking your soft locks before grabbing a fistful and putting a knife to your throat. The way you'd squeal and beg, squirm against him as he presses the edge firmer into your skin.

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away after you disappeared in the house you shared with Maggie and a few others.

It was like you were practically begging him to follow you.

Five different times that week you'd gone out on your own to ‘clear your head’, whatever the hell that meant.

First time he heard Glenn mention to someone that you'd just gone out beyond the walls, he wanted to follow you. The idea was far too tempting. But he didn't, he knew damn well he couldn't trust himself with you all alone, no one to hear you scream.

The fantasies he had begun to form disgusted him. He didn't just go out and kill any random human he felt like, he had to have some sort of rules or else things would get out of hand real fast. If he were to get caught, it needed to be someone Rick wouldn't think twice about him killing. Some raider, or any kind of piece of shit who'd be a threat to their group. He needed to have a fallback, worst case scenario one of Alexandria caught him.

Second rule, none of his people. Ever. His morals were questionable, if he had it his way he'd go out and hunt down any human he came across outside those walls.

But never his people. In a hypocritical way he did care about them, in the same way that any normal sane human being would care about their family. He could never even dream about hurting any of them, he’d rather die. But they had to earn that place in his heart.

It was a wonder you hadn't been killed by anyone else yet. The way you walked through the woods with your light pink sweater, leaving tracks in the leaves that a blind man could follow, and that fucking humming. He could easily track you with his eyes closed for miles with the way you kept humming.

You'd gone into an old shack in the backyard of an abandoned trailer.

A part of him felt angry then, how were you so stupid? If it had been someone else following you, and not Daryl, who knows what they'd do to you? And you'd have no idea until it was too late.

He paused at the thought. If he wasn't careful, that's exactly what would happen.

He followed you home about half a mile behind the entire time. When you were at the road that led to the gates he turned back, deciding it was the perfect time to go hunting.

The crossbow on his back weighed heavier than it normally did as he slunk down into the underbrush at the forest's edge. He hadn't decided on what animal yet, but the frustration and confusion alone caused by you made it pretty easy to guess.

He wiped the blood from the molar before he tucked it in the box in his vent, and decided to pay Maggie and Glenn a visit.

The house was completely empty, so he let his curiosity get the better of him.

Your room was pretty.

Your bed, a whopping full size mattress, made his pull out look like a military cot. You had an array of paintings on your walls, he remembered some of them. As soon as you got your own room in Alexandria you went out on runs with Glenn and Maggie just so you could decorate it.

His eyes went from painting to painting, then to your dresser. You kept it unexpectedly neat for someone who behaved so sloppily in the woods. Your journal, a small glass box you kept your sentimental jewelry in, a few makeup products. What drew his attention was the jewelry box, he could see the pair of pearl earrings you used to constantly wear. You never took them out back then, not even to sleep.

Orange bled into a dark purple against his face and he blinked, coming back to himself in front of your bedroom window. A strange confusion twisted in his gut when he realized he'd just been standing there, staring out your window for so long the sun had set.

You weren't stupid, or blind.

You'd have to be a fool to not notice the way Daryl had been taking interest in you.

There'd been several times in Alexandria where you'd be busy doing something, turn around and see him standing off in the distance, staring at you like fuckin’ Michael Myers.

If you'd go on runs and he came with you, you'd often glance at him to see him already looking. He'd always look away, pull out a cigarette and act like he wasn't just burning holes in the back of your head.

You'd come to the obvious conclusion that he had a crush on you.

What else could it be? You'd always thought he was really hot, men like that were hard to come by. Quiet, observant, strong as hell, he’d do anything for the people he loved and he wasn't an annoying pervert who'd suddenly turn into an asshole if you rejected him. Not that you'd ever reject him.

Each time you caught him staring your heart would race and you'd try to give a friendly smile, but apparently he was too shy for that. Which sucked, because of all the men you could have the hots for, Daryl was the most unapproachable and intimidating.

“Hey, have you guys seen an earring laying around anywhere?” You asked at dinner, glancing around the table. Carol had invited the inner group over for dinner, she'd made pasta and cookies.

You could never get enough of Carol's cookies.

“What's it look like?” Maggie asked beside Glenn, the two of them looking at you thoughtfully from across the table.

“Just a pearl earring. The one's I always used to wear.” You took a sip of your sweet tea, looking at the other faces to see if any of them had a split second look of recognition.

“Not that I can remember.” Glenn cleared his throat and shook his head after swallowing a heavy mouthful of alfredo pasta.

“I'll keep an eye out for it.” Rick tipped his head to you, nodding slightly before continuing eating. You smiled in return, knowing if anyone was likely to find it, it’d be him.

He'd grown very fond of you recently, the image of you had shifted in his head from another person he was responsible for, to a dear friend he could trust with his life. Mostly due to the way you were with Carl, always doing your best to be a figure of comfort to him. Not as close as he'd grown to Michonne, but more of a young aunt who takes too much interest in art and jewelry.

“I haven't seen you wear those in a while.” Carl spoke up.

You sighed when no one had any leads. “Yeah, I know. Just been worried about losing them, they're pretty important.” You took the last bite of your cookie, dusting your hands together before speaking again. “It's really weird, they were both in my jewelry box last time I checked, but this morning there was only one.”

“You think someone stole one?” Carol's voice held a tight tone of suspicion, her eyes narrowing so slightly you could've missed it if you blinked.

“No, I mean, no one goes in our house besides you all. And I know none of you care about a single earring.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek in deep thought.

You felt that familiar sensation of warmth on your cheek, like someone had a hot iron near you.

You turned your head to your left, met with Daryl's eyes from his spot at the end of the other side of the table.

To your surprise he didn't look away like he usually did. He kept his gaze steady, his elbows propped on the table and his hands clasped together in front of his mouth.

You didn't feel butterflies like usual, and your cheeks burned for a different reason. For the first time you were the one to look away.

Rick had put together a group to scout out further into town for more resources. The usual suspects, Aaron, Sasha, Rosita, Abraham, Daryl and of course, you.

He hadn't made up his mind on if he was glad or not. He'd been stupid, feeding the sparks of his mild obsession, and that pretty little pearl earring he kept in his jeans pocket felt like twenty pounds of red-hot metal.

They'd set up camp for the night in the woods right on the outskirts of town. Abraham had set up mediocre sound traps around the small clearing, and Daryl couldn't help but snort when you walked right into one and the cans failed to clash together.

Fire was a dumb idea too.

Daryl had started to remember why he preferred being alone. Aaron was too used to the safety of the Alexandria walls.

Abraham told him he'd better put it out after dark, also throwing in a passive aggressive insult, and Aaron stuttered out an agreement.

It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes off you. He sat across the fire from you, watching you smile and laugh and joke with Rosita like you were two young girls in summer camp.

As the flames of his fixation on you grew, so did his confliction.

He had no problems with you. He'd barely even paid attention to you before you'd arrived at Alexandria, you were just another background character in his story that wouldn't make a difference if you died or not. But you'd grown close to Rick and Maggie, two people he cared about. So by extension, he cared about you too.

He wasn't sure when it started. It kind of just happened over time.

He was always an outside observer, keeping details of each person he knew on a list in his mind.

But you, he couldn't think of any reason you'd be so special. It was obvious you were smoking hot, he wasn't blind. But he'd seen his share of beautiful women. Maybe it was the fact you seemed to always have luck on your side, you could go out singing in the woods and never run into any trouble.

If the two of you weren't careful, that luck might change tonight.

Abraham and Aaron were busy looking at a map of the town and figuring out what pathing they'd take in the morning. Sasha and Rosita were sitting on their bedrolls cleaning their guns and talking about meaningless things, he didn't care enough to listen.

You were the odd man out. Just like him.

Sitting in the dirt on the other side of the fire, fidgeting with a stick in front of you while you thought.

He could tell you knew he was staring at you again. And judging by the way you were forcing yourself to keep your eyes on the stick you were drawing circles in the dirt with, you were trying your best not to look up.

He didn't expect you to look up. He almost let the confusion show on his face, caught off guard by his incorrect prediction. He saw the way your cheeks flushed even though the light of the fire made your face glow orange. He flared his nostrils at the sight, why'd you have to make it so damn hard?

His heart dropped when you suddenly stood and walked off into the woods.

No one had even noticed, too wrapped up in their conversations. Another thing that succeeded in his self restraint slipping away.

Daryl followed after counting three minutes in his head. He'd really hoped you'd come back before then, praying you'd be lucky enough to slip back through the trees before he got to his feet.

It was dark in the woods away from the campfire.

He could hear you a few yards ahead, your boots crunching lightly on leaves despite your attempts at being quiet.

He kept his distance, just following the sounds of your footsteps and the slight silhouette of your body, the moonlight seeping through the treetops barely grazing your hair and shoulders.

This was way too natural to him.

Now out here you were just like any other victim, but it brought him comfort knowing there'd be no way he could hurt you and get away with it. The two of you disappear off into the woods at night and only Daryl comes back? He might think the people around the fire made stupid decisions sometimes, but they weren't stupid enough to not be suspicious of him.

Maybe he could say walkers got you.

He clenched his jaw when he realized he was at such a desperate point that an idea that stupid even crossed his mind.

“Daryl?”

The sound of your sweet voice made him physically recoil, his hand falling from the knife in his belt that he didn't realize he'd been gripping.

He could barely make out your figure in front of him. You were facing him, maybe six feet away, standing underneath a large pine tree.

There was no use in hiding. Your eyes would've adjusted enough by now to see the shape of him.

Finally, he answered, his voice coming out in more of a growl than a human speaking. “Shouldn't be out here alone.”

There was silence before you filled it with the crunching of your footsteps moving towards him.

His body tensed as you drew closer, now able to make out the pretty features of your face. An image of you flashed in his head, blood running down your nose and lips, tears in your eyes, your fingernails raking down his wrist.

“I just needed a minute to clear my head.” You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you weren't out in the dead of night stomping around loud enough for any walkers within a five mile radius to hear.

Daryl said nothing, his eyes fixed on your face as you slowly crept near. Although he hated not being able to read your expressions, he was thankful for it, because he was hanging on by a thread and if you even showed the slightest hint of fear, he'd snap. He wouldn't be able to resist if your lips trembled, or if your eyes widened and you stuttered a single apprehensive syllable.

But as his eyes adjusted even further, his mouth ran dry and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. That would've been less of a stun than the look you were giving him, standing only a few inches away from him.

Your plan had worked. You'd been plotting it ever since Rick paired you up in that group, the silent attention Daryl had been giving you ended up driving you mad. You found it absurd that all it took was a few stares to make you feel like he was some A list celebrity giving you special treatment.

Maybe it was a little stupid the way you went about it, but the curiosity eating you up inside didn't have you thinking straight. Walking off into the woods was one thing, but at night? In woods so thick you could barely see your hand outstretched in front of you? Blindly trekking through the leaves in the mere hope that he'd follow you and make a move?

You hadn't had sex in way too long.

Yeah, that was it.

That's why you were making the decisions of a dumb bitch in a horror movie. But at least it was Daryl you were after, you knew you'd be fine if you ran into trouble.

You thought you'd be fine.

Emboldened by the darkness and privacy you'd secured for yourself, you approached him. Your heart hammered against your chest, and you had to bite your lip to keep from panicking, the fear of rejection or a humiliating scolding almost made you change your mind.

Your eyes strained in the dark to make out the features of his face.

He looked almost expressionless, but there was something in his eyes, something that had your steady breathing turning into shuddering breaths coming from your mouth. His gaze looked like a textbook example of ‘dark’. Your heart felt like it was literally about to explode, and when you saw his upper lip barely twitch, you let out an accidental sigh, too exhilarated to feel embarrassed with yourself.

He was right in front of you then. You'd crossed every single inch of ground that separated you, and you could smell his signature scent of cigarettes, smoke, those spicy little mint leaves he'd chew on for his oral fixation. There was a hint of male musk as well, just barely there after a day walking outside in the woods.

You could see his chest rising and falling more dramatically now.

He was still dead silent, his eyes never leaving yours, even as you looked over every inch of him. You'd been biting your lip so hard it started to ache, and so you released it, your mouth opening to speak, you yourself unaware of what you planned to say.

The sound of Abraham’s whistle signal breaking through the thick silence had you feeling like you fell out of a plane. You sucked in a gasp and pulled your hand back from where it hung inches away from Daryl's chest.

Daryl's posture snapped into something so different it gave you whiplash. He was Daryl Dixon again, the sight so drastic you couldn't help but feel unnerved.

He whistled back before looking at you once more. It was still too dark to tell if he looked relieved or disappointed. “C'mon.”

Keeping his distance from people had never been a problem for Daryl. But what you did that night had permanently altered something inside him.

He didn't know if he wanted to fuck you or kill you. Maybe both.

You became his new favorite pastime.

When everyone fell asleep that night, he sat with his back against the same tree he'd been sitting under for hours, his eyes keeping their unwavering stance on your sleeping form. All the while he imagined hundreds of different things to do to you.

His mind kept going between strangling the life out of you, watching it bleed from your eyes. Or the other one, the image where he was burying his face between your legs with his tongue and teeth sucking and nipping, licking till it became too much and you begged him to stop.

He carefully planned out his next encounter with you over the course of days. He acted it out the night of a “party” at Aaron and Eric’s house, so focused on his plan he didn't even know what they were having a party for.

Daryl didn't care if you caught him staring anymore. That night in the woods he could practically smell how bad you wanted it, it didn't matter to him anymore if he disregarded all basic manners.

The last time there was a party in Alexandria was when Rick's group joined. Daryl hadn't gone to that one, the feeling of being an outdoor cat watching indoor cats eating their fancy wet food too much for him.

But he'd do anything to continue this little game with you. It was new, and there were no rules.

For the most part he was his usual self, sticking to the side and keeping enough casual conversation to blend in. The perfect balance between himself, and the part of him that imagined in great detail all the sounds you'd make.

He took a sip of the beer Aaron forced in his hands, his eyes looking back to you.

You looked like a fresh cut of meat just waiting for him to sink his teeth into.

The dress you wore hugged every single piece of your body, fitting you in a way that was almost poetic, but it was modest enough that it didn't draw unwanted attention. You were beside Rick most of the night, happily chatting and drinking champagne in a way that oozed confidence.

Every now and then you'd look at him, and he'd savor all the details of the way your confidence faded into something he didn't have a word for. You looked nervous, but hungry, like someone reaching out a hesitant hand to stroke the pelt of a tamed predator.

Daryl wanted to bite that hand, hold it in his harsh jaws while your other one stroked his fur.

You played your part well, after most of the formal greetings and casual conversation had been taken care of you slipped out the back door.

He counted three minutes in his head before making his exit, which was stopped by Carol.

“Leaving already, huh?” She gave him a knowing smirk, unaware that her assumption he was just bored was incorrect. He'd never been more entertained.

“Yeah, shit ain't for me anyway.” He played along with a nonchalant shrug, pulling a lone cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Done enough already just by comin’.”

Carol nodded, that smirk still on her face as she looked at the people standing around making friendly conversation. “Don't get into any trouble. Don't wanna help you hide bodies again.”

Daryl snorted, the cigarette bobbing between his lips. If there was anyone he'd come to for help hiding bodies it definitely would've been her. “Yeah yeah. Night Carol.” He gave her a pat on her shoulder before turning sideways to fit through the cracked door.

He hadn't expected you to be so good at this. He'd been prepared to walk down the steps of the porch and see you standing down the sidewalk, waiting for him like he was your prom date.

You weren't too good, though. He found you rather easily. The bottom of your heels left slight little indents in the dirt, leading between the houses, down the street, and right up to the sidewalk in front of your house.

His heart rate sped up a little when he remembered that house was completely empty, all but you.

Or so he thought.

You weren't anywhere to be seen. He checked every room, growing increasingly irritated when each one turned up nothing. He was about to give up and just head home when he checked your room one last time.

Something caught his eye, a blade of grass, his eyes followed the bits of grass to see those black heels sitting under your dresser, taking the place of your boots.

You tried to keep from anxiously picking at your fingernails as you stood behind the thick underbrush at the woodline, watching for any sign of movement along the outside walls.

There was a spot at the back wall near a platform no one really watched anymore, which is where the both of you had gone to leave without being seen.

You were beginning to think maybe you'd read him wrong. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered that look he gave you at the party, it was impossible to describe. He was lacking any sort of expression, but in his eyes held this darkness that made swallowing your champagne hard when you'd seen it. The way he leaned against the wall near a group of people, his eyes steady and fixed on you, you could only decipher that as a look of craving for something he'd been wanting for a long time.

If you hadn't been looking at the Alexandrian walls, you would've missed it. For a split second you saw a flash of dark clothing, even darker hair, and you darted from your position behind the thickets.

Thankfully it wasn't as dark as that one night.

The sun had dipped down below the trees and out of sight, but it left just enough light for the sky to be a dark blue. The full moon made it even brighter, and soon you were in one of the houses right outside Alexandria.

You stood in the living room and waited. You'd already checked the house for walkers before this, not keen on the idea of a growling monstrosity of green and purple flesh ruining whatever might happen there when Daryl arrived.

If he arrived.

You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't coming. The heavy front door was open just a few inches, you'd wanted to be able to see him approach the house, to take him by surprise, maybe giving him the same fright he'd given you countless times.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy. You felt that feeling again, like you were in danger, the feeling you might get being stalked by a large cat.

There was a breeze behind you, and you recognized it as a draft from the back window being opened.

Although it was happening behind you, your mind raced as you played out the scene. His hands bracing against the walls on either side of the window, his first leg dipping over like a spider emerging from its tunnel.

The tap of a boot meeting the wood floor under the window, so light and careful you almost didn't hear it. A second foot, he was in the house, only across the room from you. You held your breath as the footsteps drew near, slow, deliberate, you could tell just by the timing of his steps he was approaching you like a leopard closing in on a wounded deer. Confident, patient, nearly sadistic.

The feeling of his breath on your bare shoulder sent chills through your body and goosebumps down your arms. It was cold and barely there, you felt like if you turned around you'd be met with an empty house.

His fingers were just as light as his breath, tracing the thin dress strap over your shoulder, down and to the middle of your spine.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Daryl could be this confident in this way. He acted like every antagonist in a romance novel, dark and self-assured with every move he made.

You felt yourself relaxing as you leaned your back against his chest, feeling the leather of his vest on your skin, as well as the buttons on his black shirt.

The feeling of his hand snaking over your shoulder and up to your neck succeeded in sending every last drop of blood in your body down between your legs. You were fully prepared for the best slow, deep, mind-blowing sex of your life, but that quickly changed when his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

It wasn't a firm and sexy squeeze, it was a ‘wait that's actually way too tight’ squeeze.

Your eyes shot back open but you tried to keep your cool, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab at his wrist.

Apparently, Daryl didn't like that.

He suddenly had your back pressed against the wall of the living room with movements so quick and precise it made your head spin. You looked up at his face, lit with a dim blue light from the windows, searching for any signs that would be cause for panic.

He decided to give you that reason you were looking for, and wrapped his hand around your neck again.

For once, Daryl wasn't fighting some internal battle on if he should kill you or not.

He'd made the decision as soon as he crept in the window and saw you standing in the living room, facing the front door and biting at your nails.

That decision wasn't final, though, you had the power in your hands to change his mind.

Hopefully you'd be as lucky as you always were.

He looked down at your face as he kept his one handed grip on your throat, burning the image in his mind. Your eyes were wide and full of this otherworldly beautiful fear, so much uncertainty it made his already hard cock twitch.

Your hands were still on his wrist, as if it gave you some sort of control, something he found endearing. You still trusted him, you still thought you had a chance to regain the control you thought you had this whole time.

“This what you wanted?” He breathed, looking from your eyes to your lips. Your face had turned a shade darker from his grip, your lips turning a pretty hue of red. “Wanted me to hunt you down, and then what? Huh?”

He watched for your reaction, waiting to see how you'd play the hand you'd been dealt, and to his pleasant surprise you managed to nod.

Daryl's hand loosened just enough to send the blood back to your head and you sucked in a deep breath, before letting out a trembling whimper.

His lips twitched into a soft smirk, and he dipped his head down to press his lips against yours. You kissed him hungrily, swallowing the growl from his throat as your bare knee pressed against the aching bulge in his jeans. You moved it in firm circles, and he decided that earned a returned gesture.

He used his knee to roughly spread your thighs before giving you the same treatment. The whine that drew from your lips, and the way your eyes rolled back in your head, had him letting out a deep groan. He ground his knee up between your legs, long enough to feel the wetness seeping from your panties and through his jeans.

You didn't get a chance to tell him about the bed you'd cleaned upstairs for this. Which was unfortunate, given you'd gone out of your way to do so, not that he would've cared anyway.

He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, fingers finding the zipper of your dress and unceremoniously pulling it down to your ass. Your heavy breathing fueled his desire and he grabbed a fistful of your hair before yanking your dress down with his other hand so fast it burned.

With the grip he had in your hair he forcefully guided you onto the floor, releasing you only to settle between your thighs and slide his hands up your bare chest to his favorite part of you.

You got that look on your face again. Lust blown pupils, breathing softly through your mouth. You still hadn't figured it out yet, that you could very easily be in danger.

This time he used both hands.

A yelp got choked from your throat as he squeezed, allowing himself a few seconds to please himself. The white of your eyes turned a light pink at the edges, a few beads of tears forming there as well, the sight making his dick throb.

He released your neck and you gasped, sucking down lungfuls of air as your head spun. You felt like you were on a carousel the way you got so dizzy.

While you regained your bearings he unbuckled his belt and took out his dick, his right hand wasting no time in giving himself relief. You took the opportunity to slide off your panties, and when he saw the glistening of your wet folds in the deep blue lighting he growled. The sinful sound earned a whimper from you, and he refocused on your face to see a pitiful look of impatience.

Daryl switched to stroking himself with his left hand, and guided the tip up through your slick folds. He savored the way you looked then, biting your bottom lip as you prepared yourself.

Instead of giving the satisfaction he pulled his tip back and carried on fucking his hand. As soon as your eyes opened and you went to protest, his free hand went right back to your neck.

He loved the way you looked then, desperate and pathetic, so full of frustration it leaked out through tears in your eyes. He squeezed hard, completely cutting off blood and air to your brain, tugging his dick faster as you squirmed.

Daryl lifted up his knee to pin one of your thighs to the floor in an effort to keep you still. He took his hand away from his cock and spit in his palm, wasting no time in getting back to touching himself.

He could've easily come right there. If he wanted to, he could keep squeezing just a few more moments, and your squirming would've stopped. He could spill his load on your stomach and effortlessly slip into his cleanup routine, but aside from the fact that part of him didn't really want to kill you, the way you orgasmed had him fucking frozen.

He hadn't even touched you, but you came.

Your eyebrows scrunched together and the leg he didn't have pinned down wrapped around his waist, your hips rolling in a desperate attempt to get friction against your clit. He relaxed his hand from your throat and you let out this bubbly whimpering sound that made his hips instinctively jerk forward.

Daryl watched you, holding his breath without realizing it. She just came from you chokin’ her. The words repeated over and over in his mind as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm.

He had to snatch his hand away from his dick to keep his own orgasm at bay. Not yet, not a chance in hell, not after you just did that. You deserved something for showing him the hottest thing he never would've thought possible.

His body went on autopilot. He slid down from your body, planting kisses in a trail from your neck to your naval, down to your thighs, then back up again. He buried his face between your legs, not giving you a moment's notice or time to recover. He swirled his tongue around your clit, grazing his teeth against it before sucking it between his lips.

You bucked against him like a wild horse, the stimulation so much your body didn't know how to react. It was desperate, finally getting some stimulation, but you'd just had a world shattering orgasm only seconds before. He wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled you down against his mouth again, his grip tight to keep you from squirming away again.

The only control you had was your ability to choose what to do with your hands. Your fingers wrapped around clumps of his hair, winding up so tight it made his scalp burn.

He growled in response and took your clit between his teeth, holding it there as a stern warning, only letting it go when you stopped pulling so damn hard.

If he had the power to freeze time for everything but the two of you, he would've eaten your pussy for hours. But he settled on just long enough to pull another orgasm from you, sliding the tip of his tongue from your throbbing clit to the new trail of slick cum dripping out of you.

Daryl didn't give you time to recover from that one either. As soon as your cry faded out he flipped you on your back, ignoring the yelp of protest you made when your hip bones dug into the hard floor beneath you.

The only warning he gave you before shoving his cock into you was a quick slide of his swollen tip between your puffy folds. Just right enough to lubricate the head, and then he drove it in.

The way you groaned in pain from the stretch almost made him cum right there. He stilled inside you, not for you to adjust but for him to fall back away from the edge. The benefit to you was just lucky.

“Fuck.” It was the first time in a while that he'd spoken, and it was solely due to the way your hot plush walls squeezed his dick like a fist.

He should've known you'd feel like that, he hadn't seen you with a man the entire time he'd known you. His chest shuddered with his ragged breaths, and once he was ready he put both hands flat on your upper back. He put his weight there, keeping him upright so he could lift his hips and fuck his dick into you with all his weight.

Your arms slid out in front of you, your hands grasping for something, anything, you needed something to hold onto.

He wouldn't grant you that kindness either. He rested his knees back on the floor on either side of your thighs and grabbed your arms, bending them painfully behind you. When he held your wrists together at the base of your spine he started fucking you again.

Each rough snap of his hips drove a whiney moan from you. He liked that a lot, it sounded similar to a different type of crying, and he slowed down to keep his dick from getting friction burns. While you used the opportunity to squirm under him in an attempt to get more comfortable he spit on his fingers, letting it drip onto the base of his cock before changing positions once again.

He moved your arms up over your head and laid down on top of you, the weight of him pressing down on your back pushing all the air from your lungs.

Your check rubbed against the floor as he started thrusting again, this time settling on a new pace, rough and fast despite the fact he barely drew his dick out. If he wasnt fucking you so roughly, the feeling of his head resting against yours would’ve given you butterflies. You became acutely aware of the closeness, there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies, and every grunt and groan he made had his lips brushing up against the side of your ear.

He used his hips to grind his dick inside you, the new motion drawing filthy gasps and whines from you from the way his tip seemed to roll and dig into each and every crevice inside you. You'd never felt anything like that before, so used to the normal thrusting. He only pulled back about an inch, rolling his hips in a way that had you shamelessly moaning.

Daryl moved your hair from the back of your neck, pushing it up and away before leaning down to dig his teeth into the skin right at the base of your neck. He bit hard, something you didn't expect, and you cried out in pain, your body jerking under him.

It was hard for you to breathe with his full weight on your back. The heat of his body gave you uncomfortable hot flashes, adding to the sweat you'd already made. Your hair stuck to your forehead and you made an attempt to push it off, which was made difficult when he changed paces once again.

He started drawing out further now, but he'd just drive back in harder, faster, causing your body to grind roughly against the wood floor. The skin over your hip bones started to burn as well as your nipples, something you found almost agonizing but shamefully pleasurable at the same time.

He fucked you like that until you came for the third time, now around his dick. He pushed himself off your back and used his hands on your shoulders to keep you pinned down, watching as he breathed through his mouth at the way his cock disappeared inside you.

You were lucky he felt like a new position.

He waited until you stopped writhing under him from your orgasm before grabbing your thigh to turn you on your back.

Relief washed over you as the pain in your hip bones faded, only to have that relief taken from you when he grabbed your waist and yanked you up and off the floor.

Your feet didn't even touch the ground, your body swaying as you tried to get a sense of gravity, Daryl's hands tight on your sides as he took you to the couch.

All you could do at that point was relax and let him move your body for you, your hands shaking against your chest as he sat you on the arm of the couch. You let him push you down on your back, your ass and legs dangling over the arm for a few dizzying seconds before he grabbed your legs and held them around his waist.

Daryl pushed his dick back in your abused pussy and groaned, gripping your thighs tighter so he could pull you closer to him.

Your back arched almost uncomfortably, your hips angled up against his pelvis, the only part of your back that touched the cushions of the couch ended up being your shoulders. You were thankful you could at least breathe now.

Daryl was skilled at taking small bits of relief like that away.

He leaned down and bit your already sore nipple so hard and so suddenly you nearly shouted. Your hands instinctively went to grab his hair for support, but he leaned back and your fingers fell from his face.

He was proud of the new angle. Your pelvis tilted up and him fucking down into you sent him as deep as possible, and soon he began fucking you rough enough that it bordered closely on too painful.

Lucky for you, you liked it. Your walls burned pleasurably from the dragging of his dick, and he started speaking again.

“Look at you, dirty little whore.” He teased as he looked down at your abused body with a grin. Your nipples and hips were red from him fucking you into the floor, your neck equally as red from the force of his hands.

Your sweet, sweet pretty face, twisted up in a mix of pleasure and pain, your cheeks red, your lips swollen, streaks of black makeup running down your face. The sight made him seriously consider picking up drawing, because that look was, without a doubt, the best thing he'd seen in his entire life.

“Daryl,” You finally plucked the courage to speak to him and he raised a brow, impressed, he'd gotten used to you taking it so well without any complaints. “Too much.” Your voice broke as you whined, another orgasm bringing you to shambles.

He snorted as he watched you come around his dick yet again, your words asking for mercy but your body clearly asking him otherwise.

“You can take a little more, yeah?” Even he was becoming spent, his heart banging in his chest so hard he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his hands down your sweaty chest to your breasts, his dick twitching inside you at the way you cried when he pinched that same sore nipple.

“I don't know,” Another wave of shivers overcame you, eliciting exhausted, long and shaky whines. Your body couldn't process going a little under two years with little to no sexual activity, and then suddenly being mind numbingly overstimulated with the most exhilarating sex you'd ever had in your life. Each time you thought you'd gotten used to it he'd pull the rug out from under you, either by causing pain or giving you more pleasure that you knew what to do with.

As if on cue you felt his flattened hand smack the side of your face, demanding your focus. Your eyes struggled to find him, your vision fuzzy and wobbly, but when you looked up and saw him your heart fluttered.

“Look at me. C'mon.” He didn't want you passing out on him, that took all the fun away.

Despite the obvious fact he had a clear disregard for your comfort or discomfort, the way he was looking down at you sent butterflies through your stomach and chest. His pupils were so blown with lust that you couldn't see the pretty color of his eyes, and his eyelids were heavy with the approach of his orgasm. His lips, glistening from the way his tongue had darted out to wet them, parted as he huffed in ragged breaths.

You could tell if he had a picture of you like this, he'd be reacting the same way with just his hand. The thought had a moan bubbling past your lips.

“C'mon.” His hips snapped forward roughly, jerking in a break from his steady aggressive rhythm. You cried out from that, your hands finding the sides of his dangling belt to grab onto like the reins of a horse.

He'd held back his orgasm as long as he could, but the sight of you shaking and trembling under him, exhausted and overstimulated, he couldn't last much longer. Your face twisted in discomfort as he fucked you faster again, your hips suddenly doing their best to wiggle up and away from the frenzy of his dick.

You'd managed to get a few short moments of relief, sliding backwards until his dick nearly slid out.

His upper lip curled in disbelief, and he shook his head, scoffing at you. “Don't be a baby, you can take it.” You were yanked back down on his dick, the sensation of being forced back into overstimulation had you moaning in distress.

You nodded your head feverishly, setting your jaw as you looked up at the ceiling, trying your best to keep it together. But each time his hips would ram into yours it made his crotch slam against your clit, and it got too much, your breathing sped up as the panic of overstimulation set in. You really tried then, actually tried to wiggle away, and to your surprise, and much needed relief, he stilled his hips.

You were expecting him to maybe find a better way to restrain you, or put you in a position you couldn't move from, but he just used the moment to catch his breath before his demeanor changed completely.

“Hey, hey, shh.” The sweetness in his tone made you whimper, your eyes falling closed as he comforted you. It felt so fucking good, you found yourself willing to do anything and everything to feel that tenderness some more. “Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” He cooed as your breathing slowed and your fingers stopped shaking.

Daryl released your thighs and with unexpected ease, he slipped his hands under the arch in your back, picking you up and moving so he could sit down on the couch, keeping you stuck on his cock the entire time.

The new position of being on top sent a fresh wave of pleasure flipping in the bottom of your stomach, the tip of his dick pressed right at the end of your walls.

It wasn't painful like you'd felt before when your cervix was accidentally hit too hard, quite the opposite, the feeling of pressure was so strangely good you found yourself pushing down with all your weight, desperate to feel more.

Daryl tossed his head back with a grunt at the feeling, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting it. His hands took their place on your hips, his fingers digging deep into the soft skin there.

He'd only switched to this position because his legs were getting unsteady, but the way you looked above him was something he didn't expect to enjoy as much as he did.

He took a second to catch his breath before he planted his boots firmly on the floor, pressing his back against the couch, and when he was perfectly leveraged he used his hands to keep your waist hovering above him, using the angle to fuck his dick up into you so hard you immediately came again.

The way you came for the fourth time made his jaw drop.

He watched you through heavy lidded eyes, taking in every second of it as he breathed through his open mouth. The way your face tensed up in twisted concentration, and then the way it dropped as you fell apart, your mouth falling open with a guttural moan that put every single goddamn porn video he'd seen to shame. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your mouth hung open in such a beautiful ‘O’, he broke.

He let go of your waist so your full weight would slam down on his cock and he came, his head tilted back against the couch, his dark hair falling away from his face.

You watched his face the same way he'd watched yours, rolling your hips down against him as you drew out every wave of the strongest orgasm you'd ever had. He looked fucking beautiful. You'd do everything in your power to get him like this again, but this time with your camera.

His orgasm literally shook him. He clenched the skin over your hips in a tight grip, using it to keep you as tight as possible against him. In those few seconds his mind went blank, almost devolving him into an animal. Those instincts wanted to keep you there on top of him, so he did, rolling his pelvis to fuck his cum deeper into you.

Daryl held you there until way after he came down from his high, only releasing his grip on your skin when he felt his dick grow soft.

You couldn't move off him if you tried. Your legs felt like you'd lost all muscle mass, same with your arms. Your body slumped forward and you fell against his chest, your nipples burning as they rubbed against his shirt and vest.

His arms wrapped around your torso, squeezing your body tight against his, his hips giving a few last weak rolls up against you.

It took you both a while to catch your breath, the mouth breathing leaving the two of you uncomfortably thirsty.

He made the first move when he realized you couldn't, and he slid your body off of his into the seat beside him. He sat there for a few more seconds before he carefully put his tender dick back in his pants.

His belt buckle clinked noisily as he fastened it, his fingers shaky and inaccurate. He watched as you slowly rose to your feet and grabbed your panties, the rising and falling of his chest gradually slowing.

The sight of you struggling to climb into your dress had him feeling a smug sense of satisfaction. He chewed on the skin around his thumb, watching you slip your feet into your boots before you leaned against the wall next to the front door.

You looked at it and faltered, realizing that the two of you had been pretty loud. When you looked back to him with a concerned expression you were just met with an uncaring smirk, the man now on his feet and wiping the sweat from his face with the top of his shirt. He grabbed his crossbow from the floor and flung it over his shoulder before leading you back home.

@ophelialaufey

308 notes · View notes

gotholdladywithadhd · 6 months

Text

Unpopular opinion, probably.

So I've read many metas, and thought a lot about it and have come to my own personal conclusion about the final 15.

I'm taking it at face value.

Because it was the most human Crowley and Aziraphale have probably ever been and I think that is at least part of the point. Love makes people stupid and they are navigating a very human thing in very unhuman circumstances, and it's hard enough to do as a human in human circumstances!

I think Aziraphale believed the Metatron about Crowley bc he was expecting the worst when TM mentioned Crowley but instead got the one thing he wanted most (him and Crowley together and safe, not Crowley being an angel. ) Crowley was absolutely the carrot here. (and no I do not think Crowley would have been safe or happy, but that's besides the point.) I can't tell you how many times I've believed patently ridiculous things because I wanted to believe them so badly even though if I was looking at the same situation objectively from an outside POV I would see how ridiculous it was, so I totally get it. This isn't to say I think Azi had a real choice to go to Heaven or not and I think he did understand that as well, but I get the temptation the Metatron threw out to him, I really do.

As for Aziraphale literally saying all the wrong things to try and get Crowley to come with him? Um yeah been there done that too, the nerves take over, the brain shuts off, the mouth goes into autopilot pulling stuff out its ass, and "WITAF did I just say?" happens.

Crowley not taking any of it well and only hearing what he expected to hear (I'm not good enough for you bc I'm a demon and you only really want me if I can be an angel) *and* also being more able to see through heavens bullshit bc he has lived it, and can see it from the outside, *and* all whilst being the most honest and vulnerable he has ever been with Aziraphale in 6,000 plus years (or in fact possibly to anyone, ever. the closest before this admitting he was lonely to Azi during the Job minisode,) *then* hearing what he took to be the same Heaven will save us line from Azi was enough to trigger a massive bout of RSD and a broken heart. Everything was supposed to "vavoom and sorted! " and instead the stupid awning broke and everything went wrong. I think I've said it before that at this point Crowley can't hear anything over the sound of his heart breaking into a million pieces.

That's a whole lot to pack into the brief moments before Azi has to leave with the Metatron (who let's be honest was rushing him before he could change his mind) esp when neither of them are used to discussing their relationship openly. They didn't have time to think, to ask questions, to share information, (like hey guess what really happened to Gabriel?) Crowley tried to communicate as much as he could about his feelings with the kiss but Azi didn't have the time to properly process all that and said the wrong thing again and Crowley was rejected (he thought) again and it all just went so very wrong. You can't fix a 6,000 year relationship in 15 minutes, you just can't no matter what the story books say.

It's about two people wanting the same thing but not being able to get it (yet) because of circumstances and personalities. All of S2 was about them seeming to be closer than ever (and in many ways they were) but really they were opposed at almost every turn. (in RL not the minisodes, those actually showed them working together and coming out okay mostly, if you don't count wee Morag or Crowley getting dragged to hell) The way they both handled the Gabriel situation, how they both worked to solve the mystery, even how they tried to make Nina and Maggie fall in love were all either done alone, or in opposite ways. I've said it before and I'll say it again, as it was pointed out right in ep1, their exactlies aren't the same and until they are, they aren't going to be able to be together. The one time they did work together in the season, they produced a 25 lazuri miracle. That is the point of the final 15, and the whole season 2 in my opinion.

They'll get there in the end though!

440 notes · View notes

hannyhann · 2 days

Text

Dating Daryl Dixon (NSFW and SFW)

Apologies I haven’t made more, I just moved and I’m switching jobs atm. I’m writing a Daryl x Reader fic, it may not be long but I hope you still enjoy when it’s out. For now, enjoy some head canons.

This is both NSFW and SFW , so of course, minors DNI!!!!!

Dating Daryl Dixon would include;

Late night talks, this would be the only time you actually get to have peace, so of course you both take advantage of it

There would be no labels to you’re relationship until he either proposes to you or just randomly calls you his wife one day

Despite not having a label , you know you’re his and he’s yours

There would definitely be nights where you just fuck, he doesn’t care if people hear, he just wants to be with you

Daryl would be stern with you and you both would have arguments, but nothing to the point you are cruel with each other

This man would bring you flowers when you’re sad, dying on this hill!!!

You’d put flowers in his hair as well

You and Daryl’s first time would be kind of shit, much like Maggie and Glenn’s, but of course you find out each others likes and dislikes

Daryl would be rough, but naturally you’d teach him how to be slow, but of course you enjoy his roughness

Constantly grabbing your ass and putting his head on your shoulder as he does it

Daryl would start falling in love with you at the CDC (I’m sobbing)

He would reassure you and go “hey hey” and grab your jaw or waist and look at you

Daryl may not say much sometimes, but you know he’s listening

You would love Daryl and Carols friendship, you actually think it’s cute

Daryl would make sure you have a comfy place to sleep every night

Making sure you eat first is a definite

Daryl would love eating you out, the way this man would go insane over it oh my god

He would grab your hips/hip dips as he’s eating you out 😔🙏 don’t question the messenger

Daryl would love when you sit on his lap

He would be such a girl dad

He would make sure you are priority when you’re pregnant , he would annoy the others sometimes with it, but understandably so

Daryl visiting you while you’re pregnant at Hilltop

Daryl would be mean to you at first , but it’s only because deep down he knows he has a fat crush on you, he would call you all sorts of names and curse you out LMAO

Daryl tries to sass or be mean to you in the early days, but every time he looks into your eyes he falters hard and just yells “never mind!” and brushes you off

The first time yall kiss, Daryl would be the one to initiate it

My head canon for when you first kiss is you tell Andrea off about shooting Daryl in the head, of course yall fight, but you go to Daryl with a plate of food as he’s resting. Naturally you’re upset and crying, and Daryl’s like “hey- I’m alive ain’t I?” as he grabs your cheeks before he kisses you- MY HEART

I hope you enjoyed <33333

#norman reedus #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon headcanon #daryl dixon drabbles #twd #twd fanfiction

168 notes · View notes

winterrsun · 10 months

Text

I’m in charge

Negan x reader SMUT

18+ only, mdni

Warnings: degradation, mentions of torture, dom! Negan, mild exhibitionism, mild knife play, squirting, scary/ mean Negan (basically just his true personality, but no actual violence occurs in story)

Authors note: this is not only my first the walking dead fic but it is hands down the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, it and me are depraved. Hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want a part 2 because it’s low key already half written in my head….

Summary: Negan coerced reader to be his wife at The Sanctuary in exchange for leaving her people at Alexandria alone - but reader founds out they’ve also been holding Daryl prisoner and abusing him . When she goes to confront Negan it doesn’t quite go as planned and he quickly reminds her who’s in charge.

You stormed through The Sanctuary, up the stairs towards Negan’s office. A few people eyed you wearily as you basically pushed past them in the corridor, not even noticing as the conversation you’d had a few hours earlier rang fresh in your mind.

It was only recently that Negan had let you start making visits to Alexandria, even more recently that he’d permitted you to go alone. You’d been living at The Sanctuary as his ‘wife’ for nearly a year now, and you’d built up a surprising level of mutual trust in that time. Especially given you weren’t exactly there willingly. But he’d always taken a liking to you, ever since he first met your group that night outside the camper van.

You were disgusted and terrified of him, but at the same time even then you couldn’t deny a level of chemistry and physical attraction that streamed between you when you first locked eyes. It was what had allowed you to convince him to spare Glenn, you were sure of it.

Then whenever he and his saviours would visit Alexandria to collect their haul, he’d always make a point of seeking you out and starting conversation. Until one day he made his offer; that you go with them back to The Sanctuary and the community at Alexandria will be left alone, never having to split their supplies with The Saviours again. Holding an alliance with them that near ensured no other group would dare try to attack the community. It was an offer far too good to refuse, though Carol and Rick and Daryl had tried to convince you to.

It was hard at first, almost unbearable, missing your family and settling into a cold, strange new home that felt like a twisted cross between a shitty summer camp and a military academy. But you managed, like you always did. Negan’s likeness towards you only grew and it didn’t take long for you to become his wife. In fact, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit it had made life more bearable. Both for the luxurious living quarters and the somewhat weird sisterhood type friendship you’d struck with the other wives. And yeah, the sex was pretty damn good too.

Yes, things were really not as bad as you’d expected they would turn out for you here, especially since you started visiting Alexandria and your family. You’d made the trip this morning, taking the drive filled with the usual joyful high of anticipation you got at the prospect of seeing everyone. Except not everyone was there when you arrived.

You didn’t notice at first; why would the absence of one individual jump out at you immediately? But you did notice the way everyone behaved, it was different. They seemed…sad, and nervous. It didn’t take long for Carol to ask the question that shattered the glass for you.

“Have you seen him? How is he?”

“Who?” You asked, heart beat fast increasing at the unease of the situation. You glanced around and clocked Rick and Carl, Glenn was with Maggie hushing Hershel. You didn’t see Daryl anywhere and knew before Carol’s answer left her lips.

“Daryl, they’ve had him for weeks. He’s being held at The Sanctuary. Nobody even knows if he’s still alive, we haven’t heard anything for at least a week.”

After gathering what more information you could you fast turned on your heels and commenced your mission you were closing in on now; confronting Negan immediately. You’d all but left in a cloud of dust to the cries of “be careful” from your friends and family.

But what did you care about being careful? The Saviours weren’t some terrifying, unknown threat anymore. They were your home now. Negan was technically your ‘husband’ for Christ’s sake. And he had been imprisoning and possibly torturing one of your best friends right under your nose for weeks without telling you a thing. Needless to say, you were beyond pissed.

That feeling of outrage was what fuelled your actions as you flung open the door to Negan’s office, hardly registering the dozen or so saviours sat around the conference style table. Negan was standing when you entered, at the far side of the table from where you stood, and he and every other person in the room immediately turned their heads to look in your direction at your loud entrance.

You didn’t hesitate to march across the room, around the table, up to Negan. “You want to explain to me what the FUCK is going on with Daryl and WHY you didn’t tell me he’s here?” You demanded. You were panting slightly both from the rushed journey you’d made up to the office and from the angry adrenaline currently pumping through your body.

Negan remained silent for a few moments before he answered you in a dangerously low tone. “Sorry doll, did you not notice I’m in the middle of a meeting?”

You stupidly continued “I don’t give a fuck about a fucking meeting, Negan. I want answers now. I get to Alexandria to find my friends and family distraught and they tell me you’re holding Daryl here prisoner. Starving him and beating him, how could you fucking do this? You better start explaining!”

You realised you’d gone too far before you’d actually finished the last word. You felt, more so than heard, Simon scoff somewhere to your left. For the first time since you’d walked in you began to feel self conscious of all the eyes in the room that were now darting between Negan and yourself. He smirked a little, and slowly turned to look at his followers, as if daring them to react to your boldness. His eyes met yours again, as he started to speak in a tone that was downright scary this time.

“You don’t get to fucking demand answers of me. You don’t get to demand anything. Don’t you dare forget your real place here”.

You looked down, at a loss for words finally, and softly bit your lower lip. You’d fucking done it now. Maybe he’d let you leave quietly if you acted apologetic and submissive now. Yeah, right.

He forcefully grabbed your jaw and yanked your head upwards so you’d look up at him again, his finger tips pressing in harder than necessary. “You look at me when I talk to you. You think you can barge in here, act all tough and bratty in front of my soldiers. Fucking think again.” Your eyes glanced sideways and briefly met Dwight’s, and Negan’s gripped on you tightened even further. “Don’t look over there, look at me. Don’t take your fucking eyes off me. You made this choice and now you will have to be on the receiving end of one loud wake up call. Don’t for a second think that my fondness for you means you have ANY authority here, you do NOT!”

You jumped as he yelled the last words, and your legs began to tremble as you looked up at him, neck and jaw beginning to ache.

“Now my men are gonna think that you think you can run circles around me. I can’t fucking have that. So we’re going to have to show them, and remind you, who exactly is in charge here. Get on your fucking knees, now.”

You slowly lowered yourself one leg at a time onto your knees, while he maintained his unrelenting grip on your lower jaw. It hurt your neck even more to look up at him from this angle, but you didn’t dare break eye contact.

“Open your mouth” he commanded. You did so immediately, and he did something he’d never done before. He spat right into your mouth.

You felt shameful and disgusted as the wet deposit landed on your tongue, but also the tell tale sign of heat and excitement began to prickle your body at this lewd act. You didn’t move, knowing better than to act without instruction.

A few second later, he uttered one more word; “swallow”. And you did, feeling the cold liquid run down your throat before blinking up at him.

His eyes softened, just a tiny bit, before they resumed their darkness. “Unzip my fly” he instructed next.

Fighting the urge to glance at your audience, you began to reach your hands towards him. Your heart pounding against your chest and in your eye drums. Your fingers softly brushed the fabric of his pants before he broke, and swatted them away motioning for you to get up.

“We don’t have time for any more of this now, we’ve got real shit to deal with” he said. You felt relief wash through you at the prospect of this almost being over. “Wait for me in your room, go straight there now” he instructed. Maybe not so over just yet.

“Yes, sir” you replied timidly. The first time you’d spoken since the dynamic shift has happened between you, and your tone of voice couldn’t have changed more.

You quickly exited the room with your head down and your cheeks burning red, tears stinging your eyes that you refused to let fall out until you made it back to your room.

It had been over an hour, but you hadn’t done much other than alternate between nervously pace around your room and sit on your bed staring at the door. You hadn’t really seen him like that before with you. It reminded you, shudderingly, of how he first treated your group when you met him. You cast your mind back to Abraham and were overwhelmed with dread. You had forgotten just how dangerous the man you lived with was. You supposed it was a self preservation effort; you knew you had to play the role of his wife regardless, so it was easier to live in denial and try to make the most of it. You felt shameful about that now, it was selfish and dumb.

You wondered if he’d actually hurt you. Maybe he’d throw you in the cell with Daryl. At least then you’d get to see Daryl. God you couldn’t stop thinking about him. On the way back to The Sanctuary your mind had more been preoccupied with being pissed off at Negan concealing this from you than actually worrying about Daryl’s safety. Yeah, Carol said they’d beaten him but you knew Daryl could take a bit of roughing up, and figured no real harm would have been done to him. But now you weren’t sure at all.

You’d become a nervous wreck by the time two sharp knocks were heard on the other side of your door. You hurried over and opened it, to find Negan standing on the other side. Eyebrows raised at you.

“I take it you’ve had some time to mull things over, anything you’d like to fucking to say to me?” He said.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting Negan” you mumbled, eyes on the floor.

He smirked slightly, before saying “yeah, you better be. I’m real fucking disappointed in you, doll. We have something special, I’ll admit, but that doesn’t mean you forget who I am. I’m the boss, you respect and obey me, no questions asked.” You stared at him, frozen, while he went on. “The fact you think you can demand answers of me at all is a problem, but the fact you felt it acceptable to do it in front of my Saviours tells me you need a serious lesson to remind you of your place.”

You gulped, and started to try and plea your case. “I’m sorry Negan, I really am. I know my place here, I was blinded by concern for Daryl; he’s my family!”. You can tell it’s falling on deaf ears as his expression remains unchanged; his mind set. You wondered with terror what you’d been trying to keep out of your mind for the last hour; would he use the iron on you? Surely not on your face, he wouldn’t want to ruin his own viewing pleasure, but what’s to stop him maiming something like your arm?

Tears started to fall down your face, and he finally moved towards you further. “Oh baby doll” you gained an ounce of hope that he’s softening, “don’t start crying already, we haven’t even gotten started”.

The hope vanishes and your insides clenched in fear. “Are you going to hurt me?” You whispered.

“Not badly,” he said, “not in any way I know you can’t take baby girl”.

His tone edged into a territory you were more familiar with, and you raised an eyebrow tentatively. He was teasing you for sure, and now you were less terrified about the possibility of a truly terrible punishment. Well, one that would cause real lasting physical harm anyway. He slowly raised his arm and cupped your face, tilting it up towards his.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say, and show me what a good girl you can be,” he said steadily, and you gave him a small nod. “You gotta earn back my trust, and it isn’t going to be fucking easy.”

His hand slid down your décolletage, around your shoulder and landed on your waist. You couldn’t help but lean into it the tiniest bit, and noticed a small bubble of anticipation forming in your stomach.

That was followed by a twinge of guilt and sadness as you once again remembered Daryl. But you knew you had to face reality, the only way for you to have any hope of helping Daryl is to win back favour with Negan. You had to perform for him now, exactly how he wants. And if there was a small part of you that might enjoy some parts of what’s about to happen, well, that seemed like a small bonus you earned to slightly counter balance from the trauma of your life for the last however many years.

Negan gave your waist a squeeze and stepped back, drinking in your appearance. You were still dressed for this morning’s Alexandria visit; tight black jeans, a grey tank top and black laced up boots. You never left the compound in any shoes other than heavy boots that could kick in a walker skull if needed.

“Strip down to your underwear” he commanded softly, and you tried to make hasty work of your shoelaces, and not look too awkward hoisting them off. Next your hands shot to your pants button.

“No need to rush this part so much” he directed, and you immediately slowed down your efforts as you pulled your jeans down your legs, trying to bend over in attractive an angle as possible.

You made eye contact with him as you lifted your top over your head, and he licked his bottom lip slightly as his eyes glint. You then stand still, feeling a little awkward with him fully clothed and you in your worn out bra and cotton panties, staring at you like a lion sizing up its prey.

You know he likes to be the one to remove your next items of apparel, and sure enough he moved towards you and reached around to the back of your waist. He flicked open your bra with one hand and lets it drop to the floor.

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small silver knife with a smirk. Your heart pounded against your now exposed chest. He ran the cool metal blade along your side and you shivered at its touch on your hot skin.

He moved swiftly and the sound of fabric cutting cleanly was heard before your panties drop to the floor.

“Mmmmmmm” he groaned in appreciation at your now fully naked form. “Well go on, do a little twirl for me” he instructed. You spun around, feeling like a doll in a music box on display. As you returned to face him, he raised his eyebrows indicating you to continue, and as you rotated back around again he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, back now to him.

You should have known he’d want to check out your ass, he loved worshipping it. But this wasn’t about being worshipped. He gently pushed you in the back so you began to move over to the bed with small footsteps, stopping just in front of it.

“Bend over, hands on the mattress” he instructed, and you leaned forward precariously while he added “feet further apart doll”.

You felt a burn of humiliation at the vulnerable position you were in, legs and cheeks spread open, presented in front of him. You flinched slightly at the touch of his fingers on your bum cheeks. He caressed them lightly, before delivering a sharp slap to your right cheek.

“Alright, let’s get this part over with” Negan said with a slight sigh, and you heard movement behind you, the sounds of what you were sure was him unbuckling his belt. You knew better than to look around and confirm your theory, so instead looked down at your hands and tried to steady your increasingly rapid breathing.

Further confirmation was given to you at the sound of leather on skin, as he warmed up a practise tap in his palm. Then came a burning flash of pain across your backside, and you couldn’t help but yelp.

“We’ll do ten, count me down doll” he murmured to you, and you whimpered in protest before you could stop yourself.

He tutted sympathetically, “I know baby girl, but you can take it. It’ll push your limits, but I have to teach you a real lesson here.” You nod reluctantly. “I told you to count, didn’t I?” He added in a more menacing tone.

Immediately you stuttered out the word “ten!”

You counted down each painful lash, picturing the sight of your ass covered in red marks, hoping that none of them had broken skin. Shamefully, you noticed each strike delivered an underlying trace of pleasure mingled with the pain. You were sure Negan knew it too.

As you rounded out on “T-two!” With a tear rolling down your face onto the sheets below, Negan paused. You dare a glance behind you and noticed he’s bent down, examining his work. You felt his breath fan over your most private spot, and realised he wasn’t looking at your bruised up ass; he’s staring at your pussy.

You felt the smooth leather of his belt suddenly invade your slit, and retreat just as suddenly. Then it appeared in front of your face as Negan narrated “fucking glistening, you filthy girl” with a chuckle.

Negan then delivered the final blow, directly to your pussy this time, landing square on your clit, and you let out a scream. You weren’t even sure whether it was more a scream of pleasure or pain at this point.

Negan cleared his throat pointedly and you realised you missed the final count. “One” you sighed out, before your trembling arms finally gave way and you slumped your upper body onto the mattress. Your legs started to follow and you bent your knees towards the ground, but Negan’s arm scooped under your waist and held your hips up, letting out a “not so fast doll” as he did.

You were now face down on the bed, with your feet still on the ground spread apart, and your backside more on display in the air than ever. When he was sure your legs are steady again, Negan released your hips and you felt more than heard him sink to his knees behind you.

“You took your punishment well baby girl,” he murmured, “now I’ll help make you feel better” he finished before plunging his face in between your legs.

He motorboated your cheeks before taking his hands and spreading them apart, and you felt his wet tongue land where you needed it the most. You moaned and leant back into him as he lapped at your pussy, eating you like a depraved man. His tongue flicked downwards at your clit, which stung just slightly after the belt slap he’d administered just minutes ago. He suckled at your sensitive nub and you let out a loud moan. You could already feel pleasure building towards climax after the state he’d riled you up into. His tongue lazily dragged back up away from your clit, and didn’t stop until it traveled all the way up past your pussy. He quickly replaced it with his finger sliding in past your slit and you immediately pushed back agreeably against the welcome entrance inside you.

You let out a gasp of surprise as his tongue found its new destination, one that he’d never been before - nor had anyone for that matter. He delicately licked your puckered asshole and you marveled at the new sensation, while two fingers now formed a steady rhythm pumping in and out of your pussy. You’d never felt anything like it, and as his tongue got braver, starting to push itself inside your tight hole, you fell into a continuous flow of moans and pleas while softly rocking into his rhythm.

You thought you were already in an unbeatable state of pleasure when his thumb began to rub circles around your clit, and you grasped helplessly at the sheets beneath you. While you knew your orgasm was still building and approaching, you felt so good it was like you were already coming. Yet you felt the feeling continue to build, and you knew that no matter what you didn’t want it to stop.

“Fuck! Yes, Negan, oh please” you sang out.

His tongue danced around and inside your asshole while his fingers mercilessly fucked you, and his thumb circled your clit faster and faster. Your gut clenched and you cried out, reaching a peak like no other you’d ever experienced. Suddenly, too late to react, you felt a secondary feeling like you were about to pee. And then it all happened, you screamed in overwhelming pleasure while fluid broke out of your body and gushed down Negan’s hand. You swore you actually saw stars for a moment and not once did Negan’s actions pause.

You heard him let out an animalistic growl from behind you as you soaked his fingers and he finally withdrew his face from your ass cheeks. As your high came down he continued to pound into your pussy and your legs started to buckle, your energy fast fading.

“Negan, I can’t, no more” you let out softly, desperation in your voice.

He chuckled, delivering two final harsh thrusts of his fingers before pulling them out.

You bathed in the warm, hazy feeling that tingled throughout your body post orgasm, letting yourself lean into the drunk sensation it gave you for a moment.

“Turn around doll,” he instructed. Shakily you pushed yourself up on your elbows and turned so you were sat up watching him, while he stood up straight before you. He looked you in the eyes and licked every one of his fingers clean, slurping up your juice that had coated his entire hand and soaked his sleeve.

Any embarrassment you were at risk of feeling from having squirted for the first time in your life vanished when you realised how much he evidently loved it. He stopped before he got to his pinky and now brought his hand to your mouth. He pressed his finger to your lips and you opened up to let him in, sucking your own juices off him and noting the tangy taste on your tongue.

“Fuck, you did so good baby girl” he praised, stroking your hair with his other hand.

You were too exhausted to reply at this point, and he seemed to pick up on that. Finally feeling satisfied with his punishment, he smiled at you sympathetically. “Time for you to get some rest I think” he murmured, guiding you into the bed as your eyelids felt heavy already.

You slowly laid your head down onto the pillow as he guided you encouragingly, and let your eyes flutter closed. In that moment, you couldn’t remember anything at all that had happened that day. But it would all come back to you in the morning.

#Negan smith #the walking dead #Negan smith smut #Negan smut #Negan x reader #negan x reader smut #Negan filth #the walking dead smut #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #negan x you

651 notes · View notes