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djarindroid · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii! I see you opened up your ask box to requests and I immediately got excited!! I'd like to request a Daryl x female reader fluff/smut where it's readers first time with Daryl. I was thinking prison era or pre-negan Alexandria era, whichever you prefer because I'm fine with either :)

Also I know it has been so, so long since we've properly interacted, so I wanted to say I see you on my dash and think about you a lot. I hope you've been doing well <3

~Megan

Hi Megan! Hope you're okay!💕 tysm for the request, I went with prison era because its my favourite personally! I hope you enjoy what I've written ☺️

No More Waiting

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Virgin!Reader

Summary: After months of mutual pining Daryl finally seeks you out to finish what you started.

Warnings: NSFW!! Unprotected penetrative sex (only suitable for ages 18+)

Word Count: 2,910

The last night at the farm was meant to be a night stolen from the chaos of the world.

You and Daryl had danced around each other since the makeshift camp outside of Atlanta. Finding yourselves gravitating towards each other for some unknown reason. A silent pull that neither of you acknowledged until that night. It had started tentative and slow, his hands finding your waist as your fingers brushed along his jaw.

You’d never done this before, not just with Daryl, but with anyone. The idea of intimacy had never been a priority, especially now that the world had fallen apart. But with him, that night, it felt like it was in reach. You’d felt safe. Wanted.

But before anything more could come of it, the farm was overrun and everything was gone in an instant.

Survival became your only focus, barely having enough time to rest let alone revisit whatever was going to happen between the two of you. Your relationship had definitely shifted though, it was in the way he always stayed close to you if he thought danger was near. Or how he’d give you the best part of whatever he’d managed to hunt that day. Or how on the colder nights you’d wake to find his sleeping bag just a bit closer to yours. But there was always danger looming ahead so neither of you spoke about it.

By the time you’d found the prison and it had become home, you’d almost convinced yourself that night hadn’t happened. Maybe Daryl had even forgotten about it completely.

But you hadn’t. Because no matter how much time passed, you knew how much that night had meant. There were nights when you thought about going to him, attempting to finish what had been started, but you could never find the courage. So you stayed quiet, waiting for a moment that might never come.

Until one night, it did.

It was late when you heard the knock on the bars to your cell. Looking up from the book you’d been reading you found Daryl pulling back the makeshift cover from your doorway, his expression unreadable.

‘Can I come in?’ he asked, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

‘Yeah, of course,’ you replied, putting your book to the side. For a moment hope flickered in your chest, but you quickly stamped it down. Maybe he just needed your help with something.

Daryl stepped inside, his movements slow, almost hesitant. He hovered for a second before deciding to sit down on the edge of your cot. You waited, giving him space to gather his thoughts. His fingers fidgeted against his knee as the silence stretched on.

‘You okay?’ you asked, your voice smaller than usual.

Daryl let out a quiet huff as he nodded. ‘Just been thinkin’...’ he muttered.

You swallowed, bracing yourself. He turned his head, finally meeting your gaze. The weight of whatever he was holding back was there in his eyes, completely unguarded for you to see.

‘...about tha’ night. Back on the farm.’

You froze.

He didn’t need to say any more. Of course you knew what he was talking about, it’s all you’d been able to think about. For the first time in a long time there was no reason to put this on hold.

‘I still think about it too,’ you admitted, keeping your voice soft.

Daryl exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening at your words. His fingers flexed against his knee before he said, ‘thought maybe you’d forgotten it.’

You shook your head, maybe a little too quickly, ‘I haven’t.’

That seemed to settle him. You held his eyes, your heart pounding, as you fought the instinct to look away. His eyes searched yours, looking for any hesitancy, he didn’t find any. You wanted this, but there was still a small whisper in the back of your mind, telling you that this was new. And if it happened there’d be no going back.

Before you could overthink it, he moved. His hand came up to cup your cheek. He was careful as his calloused thumb brushed over your skin.

At first you couldn’t move as you desperately tried to calm yourself. Part of you was convinced this was all a dream, something your brain had conjured after the months of pining. But you ignored that thought, letting yourself lean into his palm, a silent answer that you wanted this.

And then, finally, he kissed you.

It was slow at first, cautious as if neither of you were sure this was really happening. His other hand found your waist and it was like something clicked into place for you. You leaned forward, your hands made their way up his torso to grip his shoulders. Anchoring yourself.

This time there was no immediate danger, no walkers closing in, no reason to stop.

Daryl wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to wanting something so badly and actually getting it. But you were here, warm and real beneath his hands, kissing him like this is where he was supposed to be.

A quiet sigh escaped you as you got lost in the feeling of his lips moving against yours. You clung to him like you were making up for every moment stolen from you. Your fingers tangled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.

His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you to him as he deepened the kiss, the feeling sent a shiver down your spine. When his tongue brushed against your lips an involuntary moan escaped you.

Daryl groaned against your lips, his hand on your waist making its way beneath your top. The second his fingers met your bare skin it was like a dam broke. Heat surged between you as his movements became more desperate, and before you could fully comprehend it he had pushed you back against your cot, climbing over you like he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

Your stomach flipped at the sensation and you let out a gasp at the feeling of his weight pressing down on you. This was happening.

His hands were broad and warm as they splayed against your ribs, resting just below your breasts. The heat of his touch sent an unfamiliar feeling through you, exhilaration, anticipation and, mixed with the both, nerves.

You arched into him instinctually, your fingers sliding into his hair, gripping onto him in an attempt to ground yourself. When you gave a hesitant tug, he growled and nipped your bottom lip in response.

He was usually so careful, but now with you beneath him he was finally letting go. You wanted that more than anything, to take everything unspoken between you and turn it into something real.

His lips left your mouth, trailing kisses along your jaw until settling just below your ear. ‘Tell me you wan’ this,’ he murmured, voice low.

Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. There was fear in your chest, but it wasn’t fear of him, it was fear of the unknown. You were about to cross a line you’d never crossed before.

But you trusted him, more than anyone. There was no hesitation, no doubt, just the certainty that you wanted him.

‘I want this,’ you whispered, voice sounding almost like a plea. ‘I want you.’

He groaned and began kissing and licking his way down your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, every kiss and flick of his tongue sent a shiver down your spine. It was intoxicating, the way he wanted you.

Your hands roamed over his back, tracing the hard muscles beneath his shirt, craving every inch of him. It had been too long since that night on the farm, since you almost had this.

Daryl lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his pupils were blown wide and his lips parted as he regained some sense of composure. His hands found the hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric as if giving you a last chance to stop this, but you didn’t want to stop.

You lifted yourself slightly from the thin mattress, wordlessly giving him permission. He pulled the fabric over your head in one smooth motion.

His hands hovered just above your bare skin as he took you in, ‘damn…’ His eyes roamed over your bare torso, drinking in every inch of you. ‘You’re beautiful.’

You flushed, heat rising up your neck and across your cheeks. You weren’t used to this, having someone look at you so intimately, as if painting you to memory. You couldn’t stop the way you trembled slightly, nerves briefly getting the better of you.

Daryl must have noticed because he paused, hands stilling completely. His brows pulled together slightly as he studied your face.

‘You alrigh’?’ His voice was gentler than you’d ever heard it.

You nodded, willing yourself to calm down, but Daryl didn’t seem convinced. His hand came up to brush a stray hair from your face before cupping your cheek. ‘Ain’t gotta do this if ya ain’t sure.’

You swallowed hard as your fingers gripped around his forearm. ‘I want this,’ you whispered, but the slight waiver in your voice gave away your vulnerability.

Daryl’s expression shifted and understanding flashed across his eyes. ‘This your first time?’ He said it as a question, but you knew he’d already figured out the answer.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding.

He pulled back slightly, your hand tightened around his forearm, willing him to stay close. You could see the conflict in him, the way he suddenly became unsure.

‘You sure ‘bout this?’ he asked again, like he was questioning why you would want it to be him.

Your heart swelled at the way he looked at you, like he was giving you every chance to change your mind, to stop this if you wanted. You reached up, fingers threading into his hair, guiding him back to you.

‘Daryl, I want it to be you,’ you murmured against his lips. He exhaled shakily at your words, resting his forehead against yours. Wanting to prove to him that you meant it, you reached for him, fingers finding the buttons of his shirt. One by one you undid them, knuckles brushing against his skin with each movement. Daryl’s breath hitched but he didn’t stop you.

As you pushed the shirt open you traced your fingertips along his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall, the warmth of his skin and the raised old scars. You met his eyes as you pushed the shirt over his shoulders, until it fell off completely.

‘You tell me if you wanna stop,’ he murmured, lips brushing against yours. The nervous knot in your stomach loosened as he crashed his lips back into yours. He kissed you deeper this time, like he needed you to know this wasn’t just some fleeting moment.

You reached down for his belt, urgency now thrumming beneath your skin, but he stopped you. His lips left yours, leaving soft open mouth kisses down your neck until he leant back. ‘Lemme do it.’

You watched as he unbuckled the bet, slowly, giving you time to breathe. He didn’t take his eyes off of your face, watching your every reaction as he rid himself of the rest of his clothes, leaving himself bare before you.

He was rugged, scarred, but oh so beautiful. You relished in the way he shivered as you ran your hands over his skin, a quiet curse falling from his lips.

His hands skimmed down your sides and he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your trousers before dragging them, along with your underwear, down your legs. His hands rested on your hips, thumbs tracing slow circles as you both steadied yourselves.

‘Can’t believe you want me,’ he shook his head slightly as his eyes flickered up to yours.

Your heart clenched and you pulled him back down, bare skin meeting as you kissed him, pouring every ounce of want into it.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, you shuddered at the sudden intimate contact. The heat pooling in your stomach almost became unbearable. You shifted on instinct, pressing your hips up towards his, causing his length to glide through your slick folds.

You gasped softly at the feeling. His fingers flexed against you, as he tried to restrain himself. He watched you intently as he slowly rolled his hips, allowing his cock to slide through your slit again, catching your clit as he did, causing you to whimper out his name.

‘This okay darlin’?’ his lips grazed your jaw as he spoke.

You nodded quickly, ‘Yes, please don’t stop.’

A shudder ran through you as he rolled his hips again. You were done for, you’d barely started and you already felt dizzy with need, but now you’d had a taste you wanted more. ‘Daryl, I need you,’ you managed to say. ‘Please, I need you.’

‘I’ve got you,’ he kissed your lips a final time before he leant back slightly. He held himself above you, one forearm braced beside your head, whilst his free hand gripped your hip. His gaze landed back on your face as he pushed forward with an excruciating slowness.

You couldn’t stop the way your eyes rolled back at the intrusion, your fingernails digging into the meat of his biceps. It was uncomfortable at first but he stretched you out deliciously as he nudged himself forward, sinking deeper into you.

He thrust all of the way inside you and stilled for just a moment, watching your every move, reading every tiny reaction your body made. ‘You okay?’ His voice was rough, but barely above a whisper.

You exhaled shakily, it was intense, the reality of the moment. It wasn’t painless but his body fit against yours like it’s where he was supposed to be.

‘Talk to me darlin’,’ he pecked at the corner of your mouth.

The gentleness in his voice sent warmth curling deep inside you. Daryl, the man who usually kept everyone at arm's length was looking at you like you’d hung all the stars in the sky. The discomfort was fading so you tilted your hips just a fraction and the way his breath stuttered made you reply.

‘I’m okay,’ your hands came to rest on his shoulders. ‘You can move now,’ a small smile ghosted over your lips.

You felt his fingers tighten on your hip as a groan rumbled from his chest. He moved slowly at first, hips rolling in steady shallow thrusts, making sure you had time to adjust. His forehead pressed against yours, he consumed your every sense.

The tension built steadily, the months of unspoken desire becoming something real. His name left your lips, your voice sounded wrecked, and that was all it took to stop him holding back.

His thrusts grew deeper, more desperate, dragging out every sensation. His lips never left your skin, lavishing you with kisses wherever he could reach, giving you everything he couldn’t say out loud.

The friction of every thrust sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him impossibly close. He growled out your name causing your walls to involuntarily clench down around him.

He cursed at the feeling, hips briefly suffering before he regained his rhythm. His hand made its way from your hip and slid between you, swiftly finding your sensitive bundle of nerves. You cried out his name, nails digging into his shoulders.

‘Tha’s it, jus’ like tha’ sweetheart,’ he cooed, his accent thick.

His fingers circled in deliberate motions, perfectly in time with his thrusts. Your pleasure continued to build, almost bubbling over into something overwhelming. Your eyes rolled back as the coil inside you grew tighter, Daryl must have felt it too as his movements became more urgent.

‘Daryl I’m-‘ you couldn’t manage to finish the sentence before the breath was stolen from your lungs completely. Pleasure rolled over you like a wave with an intensity that overwhelmed your every sense. You let out a silent scream as your body trembled beneath him, your hands clutched at him like a lifeline.

He wasn’t far behind you, his hips stuttered as he buried himself into you deeply one final time. His body tensed and he groaned your name came deep inside you. Neither of you moved, both basking in the afterglow of what had just happened. The only sound was your ragged breaths.

Daryl shifted every so slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, before lifting his head far enough to meet your gaze.

‘You good?’ he asked, voice hoarse.

A smile crept onto your lips as you replied, ‘more than good.’ You let out a disbelieving laugh. ‘We should’ve done that a long time ago.’

Daryl huffed out a laugh as he carefully rolled to lay down, pulling you against him as he did. His fingers began tracing slow circles on your skin as he said ‘Yeah, guess we gotta make up for lost time then.’

Silence settled between you, comfortable and easy. For the first time in a long time there was no uncertainty, just a quiet promise that whatever this was, wasn’t ending here. As exhaustion settled over you both he stayed close, there was no need for anymore words, not yet. For now, this was all you needed.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #TWD #The Walking Dead #daryl dixon imagine

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ddixonsangel · 19 days ago

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─── ๋࣭ ⭑ ꒰ 𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑 .ᐟ

✧ pairing: daryl dixon x gn!reader

✧ contains: angst without end, established relationship, fights and arguments, daryl's internal conflicts and moral dilemmas, reader trying to be ethical, many mentions of rick, quiet emotional moments in alexandria, two sweet kisses.

✧ warnings & triggers: grief and lost, major character deaths, emotional distress and kind of breakdowns, discussions of guilt, trauma and post-war consequences (with war I refer to Savior's arc), implied past violence, emotional scenes, character conflict and betrayal, Rick and the bridge (enough to be a warning).

✧ era: season 9. pre-time skip. bridge arc.

✧ word count: 5.6k

summary: after the end of the war with the Saviors, the apparent peace built between communities slowly begins to fracture. amidst difficult choices, silent betrayals, and wounds that refuse to heal, you and daryl struggle to stay together as the world rick grimes once dreamed of starts to crumble.

"Daryl, I know you don't agree with any of this. I know you don't agree with the decision Rick has made. I know that, but this isn't a good idea..." You said, your voice trembling slightly from the weight of your words.

It was not the first time you two had this conversation, nor the first time you had expressed your concerns regarding this situation, but it was certainly the first time it had escalated into an argument.

"Please, just think of the consequences it’ll bring... Haven't you thought about the effects this will have? On the communities? On Rick? On us...?" A deafening silence fell in the room. The air between you was thick, charged with an unbearable tension, so thin and sharp that a needle would be enough to pierce it. It seemed that any false move could set off the pent-up emotions on both sides.

His back was to you, motionless. His posture was straight and rigid as if sculpted in stone. His shoulders, tense and raised, betrayed the effort he was making to stand firm, to not let any emotion escape.

"‘course I thought ‘bout it." His voice came out almost as a growl, deeply husky, with that characteristic thick Southern accent you knew so well. "But it ain’t that easy." He remained in the same place, still not daring to face you.

"I know..." Your voice came out as a faint whisper, so low you didn't think he'd hear it. "It's not easy at all... That's why I'm trying to talk to you" You sighed, tiredness reflected in your face, in your posture, in every anguish-laden word your lips released. You felt worn out inside, as if you were fighting a war he refused to see.

"Ya just don't get-"

"No!" you cut him off before he could finish his sentence, more forcefully than you intended. "I do. Of course I do. I understand perfectly well what you're all going through! But that doesn't make this right, Daryl. I don't think it's fair. Not for you, not for Rick, not for anyone." You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated, as if that could release the pressure that was suffocating you inside.

"Look... I'm not happy about Negan being here, in our home, breathing the same air as us, either. It turns my stomach every time I remember what he did to us. To you" You said, your voice cracking a little.

There was a pause in your speech, attentive to his person, trying to evaluate his reaction based on his body language, which clearly showed the sensitivity of the subject you were touching.

"But it was Rick's decision. That was his way of seeking peace among all of us, of following Carl's last wishes..." Your breath caught in your throat for a moment. Mentioning him hurt you. Both of you. The silence that followed was not indifferent, it was reverent. As if to name Carl was to open a wound that was still bleeding.

"Killing Negan wasn't going to solve anything, Daryl.... And it won't now either. You know that well enough" You played with your fingers nervously, staring at the back of his head, looking for a sign that your words were reaching somewhere inside him.

His posture did not relax at all, but he turned his body a little so that he could let you see his face. His expression was unreadable, showing no emotion, though you could notice the small, subtle cracks where his indifferent facade cracked.

"Son of a bitch don’t deserve t’ breathe" He growled low. "Not after every damn thing he did. Not after what he took from us".

"No, Daryl, he doesn't..." You paused again, assessing how you might phrase your next words. "But you can't go against what Rick has already established".

"He ain’t my boss". His words came out as defensive, almost annoyed, with a contained rage that wasn't directed at you.

"I'm not saying this because he is or because he's actually the leader of the whole goddamn group," you replied, slightly irritated, taking a small breath of air to keep calm so as not to let this get out of control. "I’m saying this because, if you go ahead with Maggie’s plan, it would be considered as a betrayal to him... From both of you.”

At first glance, it might have been imperceptible; any other person could have let it pass, but not you. You who knew him since the beginning of the outbreak, back at the Atlanta camp. You knew his emotions, reactions, and movements like the back of your hand.

It was subtle, but you could tell how his nostrils flared ever so slightly. How his already stiff posture became even stiffer.

“It ain’t like that.”

“It is and you know it.” Of course it was a betrayal. Maggie had clearly formed a plot against the decision Rick had made about saving Negan to take down the guy who took the life of her baby's father away.

“He betrayed Maggie first just as soon as he let that bastard live,” He raised his voice a few octaves, turning his body fully towards you so you were face to face. “Glenn’s gone. Abe too. And now we’re supposed to just let it slide?” He scoffed. “What the hell ya expect me t’ do, huh?” His eyes were burning like he was barely holding it together. “Ya want me to clap for him? For showin’ mercy to some sick bastard who butchered people for kicks?” He scoffed, bitter and low. “Nah. Not me.”

You didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. "No! Of course not!" Your voice came out with more frustration than you planned. "What I'm trying to say is that you simply can't work out a plan with Maggie to go against what your best friend’s already decided! It's not the right thing to do. You don't know what consequences that might bring in the future. You're probably gonna regret it!" Your intention wasn't to argue. What you wanted with this was to make Daryl think twice. To make him realize that this was not the way to make things right.

"Nah. You don't get it." He shook his head in denial, taking three steps backward, then turning and bending down to pick up his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder.

He was done with this.

Oh, but you weren't.

Just as you noticed his intentions to leave, you planted yourself in front of the front door of the house, blocking his exit.

"I do. Maggie is still broken up about Glenn's death. You're still furious about what Negan did to her, to you, to the other communities, and to our group. But what you're planning is not right," you told him with determination, staring him straight in the eyes. You wanted to reach deep inside him, touch his heart, and let him know that the plan was not going to work.

"I'm not entirely on board with what Rick's doing either... With the Sanctuary... With Negan... But it's for the best..." Your gaze softened. "Violence will only bring more violence. We're finally at peace after the war, Daryl...."

"Isn't that enough to trust Rick?" You took a few steps towards him, getting closer. You gently placed your hands on his hard, rigid chest, to which he trembled slightly, but then relaxed under your touch.

"I know Negan's a prick and deserves even worse than death. But he's human too, just as much as we are. He's killed people, we've killed people. Everything bad we've done, we've done it to survive.... We can't take another person's life just because we think they deserve it or because we think we have the right to..." You took one of his hands in yours, and slowly brought it to your cheek, trying to give him some comfort and understanding. "That would put us on the same level as him...".

He flinched just a little under your touch, eyes darting away as he tried to pull his hand back. "Ain’t the same," he muttered. "Ya can’t compare us to him."

"I'm not trying to compare us," you replied quickly as you stopped him from pulling away completely. "I'm not trying to justify what he did, nor am I trying to defend him.... I'm trying to keep you from carrying a burden that's not yours. From doing something you might regret. From losing more of our humanity than we've already lost." You turned your head to gently press a kiss into the palm of his hand.

"I love you so much, Daryl..." You released his hand that rested against your cheek to wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him lightly, your head resting on his chest. "That's why I'm so worried about you...."

You raised your head to look at him. Those sky-blue eyes looked at you with a certain suspicion for your point of view, but at the same time, they held a deep and overflowing love for you.

"Would you think about this, Daryl? Please?" you pleaded with him softly, unconsciously tightening your arms around him. Your anguish and concern were clearly reflected in your features. Those beautiful crystalline eyes that held nothing but adoration for him looked extremely exhausted and full of worry.

He sighed slightly, wrapping his other arm around your waist to reciprocate your embrace while his other hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck to pull your face closer to him so he could plant a soft, reassuring kiss on your forehead.

"Alright," His voice came out slightly rough around the edges, though his words contained a strange softness reserved only for you.

You knew he had only said it to comfort you, not because he truly meant to follow through. Though you hoped with all your might that at least, at the very least, he had tried to listen and understand your opinion on this.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, wrapped in the warmth provided by each other's body, trying to absorb what little comfort this fleeting moment offered.

The tense silence of the beginning still lingered in the air, but at least it was no longer as suffocating as before.

After what seemed like hours, he gently pulled away from you, his hands resting on your shoulders.

He stared at you for a moment, then leaned in to cradle your cheeks in his hands to press a sweet kiss on your lips.

You reciprocated without a second thought, enjoying the faint taste of tobacco and whiskey in his mouth.

This kiss was nothing like the ones you normally shared. This one had a hint of uneasiness and uncertainty mixed with overwhelming and heartbreaking emotions that threatened to consume you both.

It was soft as the touch of a feather but was also intense. Not in the hungry sense where passion took control of both of their bodies, but because of the meaning behind it.

His lips parted from yours slowly, leaving you with a small craving for more. More of him. More comfort. More love before everything became complicated again.

You opened your eyes slightly, meeting his eyes that were already looking back at you.

His touch left your skin, and you straightened. He gave you one last look, tension and something like anguish still clinging to him, and then lowered his head and walked past you, heading for the door.

The only sound left in his wake was the soft click of it closing behind him

The days after that conversation were the same as the days before. Daryl was still wary when Rick came over to talk to him about how he was handling things at the Sanctuary, even though he tried to hide it; he rarely came back to the tent to sleep with you; you didn't see him as often as you used to and he was still as irritable as the last few times.

As for the atmosphere in general, there was an uneasy and tense discomfort between the communities. Rick seemed increasingly anxious about the situation he found himself in with Maggie, Daryl and a few others disagreeing with his decision, even if he was desperately trying to remain calm to not disturb the others any further.

Maggie was still keeping her distance, offering Hilltop's help and resources to the Sanctuary people with distrust, although fortunately, she was not entirely closed off to negotiate with Rick or Alexandria.

And for your part, you were supporting as much as you could at the temporary camp in the woods, where people from all the communities, especially the Sanctuary, were staying to help build the bridge that would connect the roads between them and make trade and communication easier.

You may not have fully agreed with the fate Rick had chosen for Negan, but you couldn't deny that every one of his decisions was born out of a genuine desire to rebuild peace, to heal the open wounds left by the war just a few months before.

You believed in his vision, in this new beginning that was so much needed after all the pain suffered. That's why you chose to have faith in him, hoping that his efforts to bring together the communities would not be wasted.

You just hoped that Daryl and Maggie would understand it soon. That they could open their eyes before it was too late.

However, that small flicker of hope vanished the moment you learned about the people who had gone missing from the camp.

Some ex-Saviors had been executed by members of Oceanside—vengeance disguised as justice—for the murders and suffering they’d once inflicted on their people.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst was finding out that Daryl and Maggie had known all along. They were aware of what was happening, and still, they did nothing to stop it. Even worse—they became accomplices through silence. They let the hatred grow like a weed, wild and consuming, until it threatened to choke everything.

Daryl—your Daryl—the man you'd fallen deeply in love with back at the Greene farm, had crossed a fine, invisible line between his principles and feelings. And now… you weren’t sure you could reach him on the other side.

It didn’t take long for the consequences to hit. They shattered what little balance was left.The fragile alliance between the communities and the Sanctuary collapsed instantly. The thread of trust Rick had worked so hard to weave unraveled like a rotted rope, too strained to hold.

Everything that had been built after the war—the attempts to heal, to coexist, to move forward—was reduced to dust.

All that remained now was a slow-burning rage, ready to spark a new war.

A war not for survival...

But for revenge.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

You stormed into the tent you shared with Daryl, shoving the fabric of the entrance aside with more force than necessary.

You were fuming.

Not only had he stood by and let Oceanside go through with what they did—he had no intentions on telling Rick what happened even if he was aware that it was the main reason everyone was starting to give up on the bridge project.

Daryl sat in the corner, hunched over his crossbow like nothing was wrong. He didn’t even glance at you, completely absorbed in whatever he was adjusting. That calm, almost detached silence of his only made your blood boil hotter.

"So that's it? You’re not gonna talk to me?" you snapped, brushing back the strands of hair clinging to your face. "You’re just gonna sit there and say nothing?"

Your patience was wearing thin, and his silence wasn’t doing a damn thing to help.

He sighed tiredly and finally lifted his gaze, meeting your eyes that reflected all the anger, disappointment and betrayal you were experiencing.

"What d’ya want me to say?" he muttered, voice low, rough. "That Oceanside was wrong? That they didn’t have the right to act on their own?" He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned back to his crossbow.

"Ain’t like it matters now." His voice grew colder. "They’re gone. Nothin’ I say changes that."

That only seemed to fuel the flames of your anger even more. "So you won't tell Rick what they did? What you and Maggie witnessed and allowed?!" Your voice came out louder than you expected, filled with accusation and reproach. "What the hell’s wrong with you, Dixon?"

"The hell’s wrong with me? Ya should be askin’ yourself that!" He shot up from the chair, voice sharp and rising. The sudden motion knocked it over behind him with a loud thud.

"Ya been arguin’ with me ‘bout this over and over and over again!" He threw his arms slightly, not in exaggeration, more like he was trying to shake the frustration off his skin.

"Yer drivin’ me crazy with all your constant naggin’, woman!"

His voice was gruff, restrained, like he was wrestling to keep from saying more than he should. You could see it in his clenched jaw, the way his shoulders stiffened, he was barely holding himself together, just like you.

"Why are ya so fuckin’ fine with all this, huh?!" he barked suddenly, stepping toward you with a fire in his eyes that had been burning low for months, now flaring out.

"Ya already forgot everything they did to us?!" The words weren’t just angry, they were wounded. Even if he didn’t show it, there was pain curled up in the edges of his voice, hidden behind all the fury.

"Of course not! But this is not about forgetting the pain they caused, it’s about knowing that you are betraying Rick. Betraying all of us!" you snapped back, refusing to back down, your voice rising even more.

Daryl gritted his jaw, fists clenched tight at his sides. He looked like he was about to explode, but when he finally spoke, his voice dropped—low, tight, restrained.

"So what? Didn’t he betray us first?" The bluntness of his words hit you like a punch to the gut.

"Ya were there. Ya saw what they did. What they did to Glenn... to Abraham. And now yer fine sittin’ across the table from ‘em? Breakin’ bread with the same bastards who killed our people, just ‘cause Rick says it’s the right thing?"

"He didn’t betray us!" you shouted, voice cracking. "We’re still his family—his priority!"

Your eyes burned, and you could feel the tears threatening to spill—rage and heartbreak all tangled up inside you.

He faltered when he saw you like that. His expression softened for a second. But before he could move or speak, you raised a hand, wiping the tears away before they could fall.

"You’re not the man you were, Daryl…" you said quietly, voice cold. You looked him dead in the eye. "You’re pulling away. From Rick. From me."

You took a few steps back until your shoulders brushed the fabric of the tent entrance. "You’re actin’ out of pain, out of spite. That’s why you keep justifying it, what Maggie wants to do, what Oceanside’s doing, even when you know it's not right."

He didn’t speak. Just stood there, like your words had cut clean through him. He shrank slightly at your tone, but didn’t back down. His eyes never left yours, even if they were clouded with something you couldn’t quite read.

“You and Maggie… what you’re doing is gonna hurt someone else, Daryl. Worse than how you’re hurtin’ me right now.”

You turned around, pushing through the tent flap without waiting for a response, leaving him alone with the weight of your words and the weight of his imminent betrayal.

The rumbling sound of the explosion wasn't the first thing you heard. It was the silence that preceded it. A silence so overwhelming that it made you look up from where you were, as if something inside you already knew what was going to happen.

And then it happened.

A flare shot through the forest, rising into the sky like a hungry tongue of flame, devouring the structure of the bridge and everything it represented. Screams. Voices. The gut-wrenching pain in Michonne's voice shouting for Rick. Wood giving way. Metal twisting. And in the midst of it all...the piercing thought that he was there.

Your legs didn't react. Your body failed to obey you. You could only watch, with wide eyes as your chest tightened, how it all came crashing down.

How he was gone.

The air left your lungs. The world became a blur behind the veil of your tears.

That wasn't just a bridge. It was hope. It was the faith Rick had had, even when no one else could hold it. It was his fight for more than just survival. It was the place where he thought that, maybe, someday he could build a home...with his family, with the communities, with everyone.

And now it was burning.

The bridge was gone.

And so was Rick.

"No... no..." you mumbled, barely aware that your lips were moving. A dry sob escaped your throat, as if the pain was so great that it could not find a way out at all.

In the distance you could spot Maggie and Carol holding Michonne, trying to stop her from going into the flames to look for her partner.

And on the other side you saw Daryl walking away, heading into the woods.

That was it.

Rick was gone.

You couldn't stop repeating it in your head.

And so, as if you couldn't stand being in that place any longer, you turned around on your heels and walked away from the scene, making your way back to the makeshift camp.

You were going to gather the few things you had in the tent with Daryl and head back to Alexandria.

To home.

The house was dark, completely blacked out. Only a dim lamp in the living room remained lit, casting warm gleams of a soft, slightly yellowish glow on the walls. A warm contrast to the coldness of the atmosphere that reigned in the place.

Everything seemed to be too still. The heaviness of the morning's events hung stiffly on your shoulders. It felt as if, apart from your mind and body, the objects in the building knew that something had been shattered that night.

You were in the room you shared with Daryl, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands resting on the mattress and staring blankly out the window. After returning to Alexandria, you had spent a few hours taking care of Judith at Michonne's request, who had stayed with Carol at the camp to take down what was left of it and assist in quelling the still-burning fire in the remains of the bridge.

The lingering traces of the smell of smoke still clung to your clothes. The tightness in your chest that you felt when you saw the explosion had still not left your body after a few hours.

The time you spent with the little girl had done little to comfort you. On the contrary, it only served to make the emptiness bigger. Every little smile of hers, every innocent word, was a stark reminder of how much she would be missing Rick.

You thought of her growing up without a father. You thought of Michonne coming home without her partner. You thought of all the plans Rick had worked so hard to build being reduced to ashes.

And now you were there, alone in that room, feeling like the world had taken an unexpected 180-degree turn of events to put everyone's life upside down. You briefly wondered how all of you were going to find a way to move forward with so many pieces of the puzzle missing.

You lay in bed for what seemed like hours, when in reality it was only minutes, replaying and reliving the day's events over and over again in your head. You couldn't sleep. Your body weighed heavily on you, exhaustion swallowed you whole, but your mind couldn't stop swirling.

You kept your eyes fixed on the window, listening to the little noises outside as you watched the sky.

That's when you heard it.

The front door opened with that subtle creak that you recognized instantly. The familiar slow, hesitant way of entering, as if he didn't want to disturb anyone or as if he didn't know he was welcome, let you know instantly that was Daryl who had walked in.

You made no attempt to move. You just heard his muffled footsteps approaching down the hallway silently, where he stopped in front of the bedroom door.

He didn't open it immediately.

There was an eternal second when you thought he would turn around and just walk away, just like he had done other times before when the weight of everything was too much for him.

But this time he turned the doorknob, gently opening the door.

He came in slowly, almost shuffling his feet. He looked tired, hurt and wounded, clearly remorseful and overwhelmed by the weight of the whole situation. He closed the door behind him without a sound and stood motionless in the entrance.

It was just you and him, in the same room, hidden by darkness and carrying the same grief.

You didn't turn to look at him, or even make the slightest attempt to pretend you were asleep. He knew perfectly well that you were awake—he could feel it in the stiffness of your body, in the way you held your breath—but he also understood your silence. He knew it wasn't out of disdain or punishment, but because there were things that still hurt too much to put into words.

He approached the bed slowly, with unsteady steps, and then sat on the edge of it on his side of the mattress. He took off his boots, vest, and belt, and laid down next to you without any intention of getting close. He kept his eyes on the ceiling and his body at a considerable distance.

"'m sorry." His voice came out in a low, hoarse whisper, rough like gravel but barely cutting through the heavy silence that hung between you.

"For what?"You didn't move from your spot, but your reply was softer than he expected, enough to make him pause.

"f' messin’ things up." He let out a shaky breath beside you, turning his head slightly to look at you—or rather, at the back of your head.

"Shouldn’t’ve kept quiet ‘bout Oceanside's stuff… ‘bout Maggie's…" He drew in a deep breath. "Thought I was doin’ the right thing. Thought I'd—" His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump rising in his throat. "Thought we’d already lost enough…"

The silence returned, gentler now, full of all the words neither of you had dared to speak.

"But we lost… we lost even more. I lost—I lost my brother…" He almost let out a sob.

You could feel the pain clinging to every word, and your chest ached with love and sorrow for him.

"I dunno how to fix this," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper now. "But ya were right… I shoulda listened. Shoulda been thinkin’ more ‘bout ya… ‘bout Rick, ‘bout all of—"

"Come here…"You cut him off gently, turning to face him and opening your arms in a quiet invitation.

He hesitated only a second before moving in close, sliding toward you on the bed. His arms wrapped carefully around your waist as he buried his face in your chest, finally letting the weight of it all sink in.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and brought one of your hands to his scalp, massaging it gently.

You understood his need for comfort after everything that happened. You knew him well enough to know that right now he was blaming himself for what occurred on the bridge, which is why, even though you were still a little hurt by his actions, you weren't going to deny him what he desperately needed right now.

Your support.

You stayed that way for several minutes. With you holding him securely in your arms and him crying silently in your chest.

The days that followed were tense. The community was still adjusting to Rick’s absence, trying to settle into a new normal. Meanwhile, Daryl went out every day with Michonne, tirelessly searching for any trace of his brother, while you stayed behind—either working or looking after Judith.

Though the love between you hadn’t faded, the weight of everything left unspoken had begun to strain your relationship. Some days were swallowed by silence, thick and suffocating. Other days, emotions ran so high it was unbearable to be in the same room together.

There were still moments of intimacy—quiet touches, shared looks, nights spent tangled in each other’s arms—but they were growing fewer and farther between. Not because the love was gone, but because the pain was too loud, and the words neither of you could say hung heavily in the spaces between you.

Still, deep down, you had a feeling that something was about to shift. Something big.

And you weren’t wrong.

In fact, the moment had been creeping in slowly, ever since Daryl started spending more time out in the woods searching for Rick than at home with you.

It happened one morning, in the early hours, when you stirred from sleep to use the bathroom. Groggily, you glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand—just past four a.m.

Reaching across the bed, your hand searched for Daryl’s familiar warmth. But all you found was cool, empty sheets.

And though part of you had expected it, the ache of finding yourself alone still hit just the same.

You slipped out of the bedroom quietly, careful not to make too much noise. After stopping by the bathroom, you headed downstairs, drawn by a faint sound coming from the dining room.

And that’s when you saw him.

Daryl stood with his back to you, methodically stuffing personal items and essential gear into his worn backpack. He was already fully dressed, his crossbow slung across his back, and his familiar black poncho draped over his shoulders like armor.

He paused mid-motion, the rustle of your bare feet on the floor catching his attention. Slowly, he turned to face you.

"You’re heading out this early?" you asked, a sleepy yawn slipping out before you could stop it. You were still groggy, part of you hoping to crawl back into bed and steal a few more minutes curled up beside him.

He hesitated, his eyes dropping for a moment before he spoke in that gravelly voice of his.

"Yeah… figured I’ll be leavin’ now."

The silence that followed was familiar—weighted, tense, like so many other moments between you lately. You didn’t have to ask where he was going. You already knew.

There was a quiet determination in his expression, one that left no room for doubt: he was going to look for Rick. Or at least… whatever was left to find.

You didn’t speak right away. You just stood there, letting your eyes trace the lines of his face, committing every detail to memory like you wouldn’t see him again for a long time.

"You’re not comin’ back soon, are you?" you asked, voice strangely steady even to your own ears. But deep down, you already knew the answer—just like you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him. And you didn’t plan to.

He gave a slow shake of his head.

You sighed, weariness seeping into your bones.

"How long do you think you’ll be out there?"

He hesitated before answering.

"Don’t know… guess as long as it takes."

His tone was calm, but the way his hand trembled slightly gave him away.

You stepped closer, feeling your heart swell and ache all at once. The thought of Daryl being gone for weeks—months—maybe even years, hurt in a way words couldn’t touch. But you knew this was who he was. Loyal to the end. Loving in a way that didn’t always make sense but ran deeper than most could understand.

His eyes found yours, and in them, you saw everything he didn’t say out loud:

Thank you.

I love you.

I’m sorry.

I’m scared.

You closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him—not with desperation, but with quiet strength. The kind that said “I love you” without needing the words. He held you tight, arms pulling you in like he never wanted to let go.

You stayed like that for a while, until eventually you had to part.

Your hands came up to his face, cradling him gently. You leaned in, resting your forehead against his.

"Just… don’t take too long. Okay?" you whispered, offering him the faintest of smiles.

He managed a small, sad smile in return.

"I’ll try."

You kissed him—soft, tender, and final. He responded with a kiss to your forehead that lingered, his silent promise to come back.

Then he stepped back, picking up his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. He walked to the door, pausing for a moment before he looked back at you one last time.

"Love ya," he said simply.

You smiled faintly.

"Love you too."

And with that, he slipped out the door, closing it behind him.

You stood there, watching through the window as his figure disappeared down the road, heading toward the gates of Alexandria.

You didn’t cry this time.

You didn’t feel like you had the right to.

You loved him—and that’s why you were letting him go.

It wasn’t a breakup, though.

But it sure as hell felt like one.

✧ a/n : u don't know how much I suffered writing this. Not because of the fanfic, but because I had no idea how to write it. I had the concept, of course, but I didn't really think in how i'd develop it. 😭 I wanted to portray the reader as someone who truly believed in what Rick was trying to do for the group and the communities, and as someone who was truly loyal to his friend, even if they weren't really sure about his decisions.

✧ : and for Daryl... well, I tried to focus more on the motive behind his actions. We all know how much Daryl loves Rick, and how loyal he is to him, so it would take a very compelling reason for him to act against his brother's plans. I wanted to portray him as someone who was letting himself be carried away more by the pain and guilt he was bearing since Glenn's death, as well as by the desperate need to make up to Maggie for the consequences his past actions had on her life and will have on her baby's. He didn't want to betray Rick, and he didn't intend to either, but his silence—his complicity with Oceanside, his choice to side with Maggie—was born from love, not defiance.

✧ : Daryl wasn't trying to destroy Rick's vision. He just couldn't believe in it anymore when the cost of that vision was so much suffering for the people he cared about. In his eyes, Rick had stopped listening, stopped seeing the pain behind the peace he was trying to build. So Daryl acted in the only way he knew how: through instinct, through protection, through loyalty to those who had already lost too much. It wasn't about turning his back on Rick —it was about trying to hold onto what he still had, before it slipped away too.

✧ : anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot I wrote for you. I put all my love and effort into making it, so I wish I lived up to your expectations.

✧ : apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors I may have. English is not my native language, and despite having an advanced level, I still struggle with some things.

✧ : any comments or feedback are appreciated. thank you so much for taking some of your time to read this!

#✦ ¡ ꒰ 𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 …ᡣ𐭩 #daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd x reader #twd x you #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd one shot

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pirateprincessblog · 1 year ago

Text

2 batteries away

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: if he can choose to spend time with someone else rather than you, daryl would do it. not because he hates you. he simply doesn't have any type of connection with you. and you are so young. but when rick demands that you join him on a scavenge hunt, he doesn't have much of a saying into it, and chooses to act unbothered. he also chooses to ignore the way you tease him the whole trip, your hips swaying just a bit more when walking than usual. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: daryl dixon x female reader 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: alexandria, pre-negan 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: big age gap, reader is half daryl's age 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, masturbation, breath-play, subtle ddlg, toys, subtle dacryphilia

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i am on season ten of twd (my first time watching) and it feels like this man's clothes keep getting tighter and tighter each episode and i am so here for it. also the way his arms magically always glisten in the sun as he subtly flexes when the camera is on him? give me a break I BEG

Also I miss Rick very much 🥺

"i have a special request. if i'm allowed to do that." a playful voice calls behind you.

you turn around, squinting. the sun is high up in the sky, and right in your eyes. you make out carol's short hair, and nod at her as a sign to keep speaking.

"i'm gonna need something i can make cookies or cakes with. hazelnut, chocolate, almonds,... you know. cake stuff." the woman smiles.

"i'm going out for ibuprofen and possibly viagra, not chocolate."

"viagra? for who?"

you chuckle under the cap rosita has given you, and try to subtly glance over at the man loading the car with weapons. he grunts, glaring at you and instantly shutting down the bullying party you wanted to start.

"i don't need no damn viagra." he slams the trunk door shut, and walks past you, intentionally pushing his shoulder into yours.

you fall a step back, holding in a laugh. carol has her hands on her hips, but her laugh isn't hidden. she knows daryl can't say anything to her.

"oh, come on. i know that you like to stay quiet and mysterious, but a little joking in hard times never hurt anybody." the woman defends you, scrunching her eyebrows at daryl.

"it's hurting me." he yells from the car, slamming the door shut.

"how am i supposed to survive this trip with him, ricky?" you complain, shoulders hanging with rising irritation with the situation.

"you survived a walker flooded prison with nothing but an axe before you found us on the other side, and you're telling me you can't survive a grumpy old man for a few hours?"

"thing is, i killed walkers. i cannot kill him. boo-hoo, the precious tracker. i also, when i see a footprint on the floor facing a certain way, know that someone is headed there. wild, right?"

rick pats your head, messing up the cap in the process just to tease you.

"bring me some shirts on the way back, i'm getting sick of these flannels. and get yourself something nice."

one would think that he gave you his credit card to buy him those shirts at the nearby mall. telling you to get yourself something nice, that idiot. the less fun truth is that you are headed towards a landfill two hours away from alexandria, in hopes of finding anything. glenn and morgan haven't had any luck for a few days now, so rick decided to change the route and the team. daryl and you, apparently, make a great one. that pain in the ass of a man.

"i'm leavin'. you stay and talk 'bout me all you wan'. i'm the one actually doin' something for this place."

"stuck up much? see," you open the car door, sitting inside annoyed, "with the viagra, you'd be a much more pleasant person to be around."

"enough with the damn viagra. fuck's the matter with you?"

"god, just start driving and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the road and i'll find my own shit from a different place. rick doesn't need to know."

"no," he simply responds, not sparing you a glance.

rick waves at you with a smile on his face, knowing damn well what he did putting the two of you together for such a long quest. he's so going to hear from you tonight. if you make it out alive while trying to kill daryl.

"so, what are you hoping to find? booze, peanut butter, new clothes? i'm starting to think you stapled those clothes to your body."

he says nothing, eyes focused on the road. you sigh. maybe you're the problem. you're poking him too much, knowing he has zero patience and doesn't very much like your company. you decide to keep quiet for the rest of the drive, only occasionally glancing over at him out of boredom.

you can't lie, he is an attractive man. you don't know why you're mean to him. he is gorgeous to you, your taste in older rugged men not failing you. you're surprised rick isn't the one you fell for. but next to daryl, he looks too... neat. daryl is just perfect. most of the time his deep raspy voice has you subconsciously rubbing and squeezing your thighs, led by a tingling sensation in your lower stomach. his clothes have recently gotten very tight on him, the buttons of his black shirt threatening to pop and give you a view of your lifetime. he has been working out a lot, you've seen him. fuck, not only have you seen him, you also stayed there, secretly snapping pictures with your polaroid your father had left you before disaster struck. you only had a few films left, yet no self control. something about seeing daryl all sweaty as he did push ups, grunting and almost moaning, thinking that nobody can see him, did things to you.

"wha'?" he asks, sensing your intense gaze.

you turn your head away, flushed. "nothin'."

"mmh."

he keeps it short and stern, and if your panties weren't drenched as your brain replayed the memory of his glistening arm muscles, you'd probably make a sassy remark. he raises an eyebrow, probably also wondering why you aren't being mean for so long now.

"shoes." he says after some time.

"what?" you ask, absent-mindedly staring into the tall trees and the walkers hidden among them.

"i'm hoping to find some shoes. it's gettin' hard to walk in these. i also hope i find sum more arrows."

you nod, surprised that he has actually graced you with an answer. you thought he'd say something like cigarettes or alcohol. you hated people who smoke. but daryl is an exception. he looks damn hot doing it.

"you?" he asks.

"well, new underwear would be nice. i ripped all my good panties, and let me tell you, these thongs are not apocalypse friendly."

"shit, girl, oversharing much?"

"what, you disgusted by female underwear?" you poke back, playfully.

"not female underwear. your underwear."

you're offended. you squint at him, and have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.

"for your information, you don't look or smell all flowery and fresh yourself. i could use your hair to grease up carol's tray for her cakes. and your fingernails? they have their own ecosystem at this point."

and back to the bickering it is. he grunts again, furrowing his eyebrows. he secretly glances at his fingernails. indeed, they had a layer of dirt under them, but daryl thinks that he has bigger issues than some dirt that will get washed off anyway.

"oh, i also wish to find-"

"yeah, lost interest." the man interrupts. "also, for future conversations, you do not mention your... thongs... to people that are ol' enough to be your father."

ew.

he did not.

"what, is that how you see me? you could be my father?"

how utterly disappointing. there you were, sitting next to him, imagining him going feral between your legs, all while he is viewing you as his child. there goes your masturbating material for tonight.

"well the age fits the description."

"fuck you. seriously." you sigh, turning your body towards the window so you can fully ignore him.

arriving at the gates, you immediately notice a few things that you will be taking home. how foolish of you to not take a truck instead of the crusty old car.

"watch it." just as he says it, an arrow passes by your head, followed with a loud thud.

you don't have to look back to know that a walker had managed to sneak behind you, while you were foolish enough to stay swooning over his arms glistening in the sun with sweat.

"damn it, girl, i don' know what it is with you, but you gotta snap outta it. i can't keep saving ya ass."

"yes, dad." you reply, annoyed.

"hey." he calls, hand reaching to cup your jaw and turn your head towards him. "shut it before i make ya."

if it weren't for the feeling of his rough hand on your face and his raspy voice sending you a warning turning you on, you would've slapped him and told him not to touch you. but oh, you were going crazy inside. you found a new way to push his buttons, and you're going to have so much fun with it.

you walk behind him into the landfill, the smell of junk pinching your nose. daryl is also bothered by it, seeing his scrunched expression as he scanned the first piles of garbage.

"there." he points his crossbow a certain way.

you follow the invisible line, your eyes landing on what seemed to be several taped boxes. they could have three things inside: food, weapons, or traps. weird how nobody has discovered this place yet. or maybe they have, and they took all valuables already.

daryl doesn't wait for you. he makes his way towards the boxes, keeping his crossbow ready if something goes wrong. you, on the other hand, have tucked your knife safely and are walking around like there isn't walkers scratching at the fence, waiting to sink their teeth into your skull.

"dammit."

you hear rattling. you turn around, only to find the man kicking the boxes angrily. the can he has just thrown on the floor rolls up to your feet, and you crouch down to examine it. it is food, but expired. eating it would be like playing russian roulette.

"i mean, we can still... ya'know, take it with us. what happens happens."

"dixon, if i'm gonna die, i'm gonna die from a bullet or a bite. not from a rotten macaroni."

he raises an eyebrow at you, amused with your laid back attitude. he doesn't give you much attention, just silently walks next to you while scanning his side of the landfill.

"ah, sweet!" you cheer, running towards a pile.

"wha'?"

you almost trip over the broken wooden chairs, trying to get to a certain little box in the pile.

"the hell are ya doin'? we're losin' time!"

your eyes instinctively roll at his voice. you know he has nothing smart to say. finally reaching the box, you jump back on the floor, eagerly opening it. seeing that the item still has the foil sealed on it, you victoriously raise it in the air, cheering.

"you have made it a goal for yourself to die today, didn't ya?"

"nah, not anymore. i found something that will keep me occupied and will fuel my will to live a little longer."

you continue your way forward, leaving daryl to stare at the box you have discarded, trying to figure out what it is. but he has decided he has no time for your immaturity. he needs to ask rick to not ever put him with you on a hunt again. he's lost a lot of time already, and hasn't found a single thing to bring back.

"clothes." you point, the pile of fabric sitting on top of a garbage hill.

"you gonna go get 'em?"

"why would i go? you go."

"you wanted your... thongs... so, you go get that."

you scoff, setting the newly acquired item on the ground and slowly climbing up the hill.

"what is this, anyway?" his curiosity wins.

you sit on top of the pile, examining the clothes and discarding the ones with holes in them.your eyes dart to the man below you, and you chuckle when you see him crouch and take the item in his hand.

"it's a wand."

"wand?"

"yes."

"for?" he keeps pressing, his eyes never leaving the pink gadget.

"masturbating."

thud.

you look down, mortified. he better not break it.

"careful with that, what's the matter with you?!"

"you're fuckin' crazy, girl."

you silently mock him, sticking your tongue out at him and repeating his words with exaggerated face expressions. he really gets on your nerves. you gather the clothes you have found into a bed sheet, tying it up and putting it over your shoulder, then pick up the gadget from the floor. it seems alive, it didn't break. you only hope it works. you're young, inexperienced, surrounded by people that are either too young or too old for you. though, the old part never was a problem for you, it was for them.

feeling bored, you decide to keep poking him. he is just so grumpy, and silent. and inviting to irritate.

"so, dixon, you've never heard about one of these?" you wave the gadget in front of his face.

he spares you a glare, and continues walking.

"come on, we're talking. nobody's around. tell me, since all of this started, how many times have you even approached a girl? do you even mastu-"

"'m not in the mood to be picked on right now."

"i'm not picking on you. i promise. just trying to converse."

"you want to be useful? hold this. it's in my way." he throws his vest at you, now only wearing a tight black t-shirt.

you scowl at him, shoving his vest into your backpack.

"you're so fun to be around. i get why rick put us together."

he grunts, leaving you behind. rolling your eyes, you go down a different path, hoping to find something useful to all of alexandria and not just you. turning a few lefts, you find yourself standing in front of a little shed like structure. you bang on the door with your foot, and when hearing no growls, you bravely enter. it is dusty and dark, with a singular armchair and a few cupboards.

you open each one of them, happily shoving all the food you managed to find into your backpack, opening a protein bar along the way and chewing on the oats and dried fruits. you missed having those with yogurt for breakfast.

not only will carol be happy with the amount of nuts and flour you have found, rick will be proud of you. you might even ask for a reward when he sees the amount of canned tuna and jam you have found. you forgot what pancakes taste like.

after clearing the room, you peek out the window. daryl is in the distance, going through piles and kicking stuff out of his way, as if playing. you've collected way more than him, and the sun is at it's highest point. the shaded room seems like a perfect place to take a nap, or just rest your feet and ears from him.

you plop on the armchair like a star washed up on the shore. it feels so lonely lately. rick has michonne, carl has enid, rosita has her boytoys, even gabriel might be having more fun than you. as wrong as it was, you stay up listening to the noises coming across the street. they're loud, there's no way you could ignore them even if you wanted to. even rick had to step in and ask them to be quieter. but what is a problem to someone else is a solution for you. is it wrong to touch yourself while listening to someone else fucking? yes. but is it the only way that works for you? also yes.

you eye up the toy that peeks from the backpack, then glance out the window. daryl is busy with his crossbow, having found something that he could use on it.

fuck it.

you unbuckle your pants, not bothering to take off the panties. your fingers are quick to pop the batteries that come with the package in the gadget, and when the lid clicks, you admire it for a second. there it is, in all its glory. waiting to be abused every day by you, until you find a replacement. hopefully a softer and live one.

taking off the thin protective foil from the head, you position yourself on the armchair. you glance at the window again, carefully monitoring daryl. now, if you thought that eavesdropping and touching yourself was bad, what was this? watching daryl's fingers work on his crossbow, arms glistening in the sun, all while the pink toy softly vibrates on your pulsating clit.

you sigh at the newfound pleasure, rubbing the toy up and down your slit, while your eyes stay focused on the man unaware of your situation. he probably even forgot about you. or is thankful that you have left him alone. even better for you. you get to be a pervert without him ever knowing.

you arch your back, throwing your head on the backrest as you focus on chasing the release. it's been awhile, it won't take you long. your eyes open again, just enough to see if the man is still in his spot. your fingers change the vibration strength on the gadget, and instantly, you gasp. it is so intense, and so much, but you don't want it to stop. this thing is your new best friend, you better get used to it.

something else peeks out of the backpack, the leather catching your attention and giving you an idea. like an animal in heat, you grab the vest, burying your nose into it and spreading your legs further. daryl's scent takes over your senses, making you lose control and become a moaning mess. you are getting wetter by the second, the toy now slipping up and down your slit with ease and giving you maximum pleasure.

"fuck- daryl-" you can't help but gasp, enveloped in his manly scent and fabric.

your hips hopelessly rub against the toy, chasing and chasing after something that isn't quite getting closer, even though it feels like it.

"the hell?"

your eyes widen at the interruption. you drop the vest in your lap, hiding the crime scene from him. the man stands at the door, expression unreadable. yours is one of horrified mixed with desire, the way he stares down at you angrily sending arrows to your core.

"daryl- i- did you, uh, find anything?" you try to play it off, foolishly.

"yeah. i found an animal in heat it seems. couldn't wait for alexandria to do that shit?"

"I-"

"is that my vest?"

he slams the door shut, leaving you two in darkness. you gulp, moving the gadget from your core and letting your panties fall back in place.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" you stutter, failing to put a sentence together while he intensely glares at you.

"ya ain't sorry." he grunts. "ya know why i despise being around your ass? you're inappropriate."

"no, look," you try, but he points a finger at your face, making you close your mouth.

your eyes burn, tears announcing their arrival.

"it's not like that-"

"shut up, dammit! i'm talkin' now! do you have any idea in how many uncomfortable situations you've put me? all those snarky dirty comments, all that flirting, now this? do you understand what that does to me?!"

he's yelling, frustrated and angry with you. but why are you getting wetter? why can't you think rationally? he is scolding you for being inappropriate, and you continue to be even more inappropriate by sexualising simple yelling. not your fault he looks damn hot while he does it, though.

"you're- you're half my age. i can't allow myself to play your games, no matter how tempting."

what?

"what will alexandria think? they already have no good opinion on me. engaging with someone half my age the way you want me to engage is- it is a horrible idea. i'll be out faster than i was in."

silence swallows the room. you still lay on the armchair, half naked with his vest covering you. he paces around the room, fingers running through his hair as he tries to gather his thoughts. you think whether it's time to finally say something, but you wait another moment. you need to gather your thoughts too.

tempting, he said. so he thought about it too. he saw past your jokes, and has been controlling himself so well. if only you knew what it would take to shatter that control, even for just a moment.

"since when do you care what other people think?" you start.

"since rick chose to trust me."

you hum, understanding.

"listen-"

"so you've been thinking about it." you're the one to interrupt now.

his head snaps up, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, as if asking you where you're going with that statement.

"there's nothing wrong with it. it's not like we're getting married or something."

"i'm older than you. way older than you."

"so?"

"i could be your father."

"if you say that word to me one more time i swear i will turn this landfill upside down to find another sex toy to shove up your asshole."

"why do you get so triggered by it?"

you roll your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. you press your thighs together, missing the warmth and buzzing from earlier. fun killer.

"because."

"why?"

"doesn't matter."

"tell me," he presses further.

you finally look at him, frustrated. "because i have fucking daddy issues and the thought of you being so much older than me turns me on. there."

you get up from the armchair, putting his vest on so that you can cover yourself. it almost reaches your knees, hiding your body from his gaze. he says nothing, and does nothing for a few moments. you have your back turned to him, hands resting on the counter of the half chipped kitchen cabinet. your head hangs low with embarrassment from the confession that just left your mouth.

tears stream down your cheeks, luckily hidden by your hair. but daryl doesn't miss the little sniff that comes your way. he sighs, then paces around the place a little more. when you don't hear him anymore, and finally face the fact that nothing will be the same with him anymore, you dare turn around. you almost gasp when you come face to face with him, his chest pressing against yours.

"wha- what are you-"

"shh..." he hushes you, eyes roaming your face.

you aren't sure what to do, or what he wants to do. if he tries to comfort you by giving you a hug, you will break down. and you will never face him again. you thought it was only sexual, but the way he looks at you and hushes you as you cry is awakening new emotions inside of you. ones that you will push down for now, because it is not the time.

"daryl, i'm sorry." you hiccup, genuinely feeling sorry for ruining whatever you had with him.

you feel his hands on the back of your thighs, and before you can react, he picks you up and places you on the counter. you instinctively spread your legs, letting him in closer.

"don't be. or else i might regret this."

you look at him doe eyed as he places his hand on your neck, gently holding you just beneath your jaw and softly pressing into the sides of it. he brings his head close to you, eyes half closed as he stares at your lips.

"daryl." you whisper, not sure of this anymore.

"just hush."

and with that, he presses his lips into yours, softly moving them with rhythm only known to the two of you. his other hand caresses your thigh, then creeps to your bottom and pulls you to the edge of the counter, enough to have your crotch press against his.

you can taste your tears while you kiss him, and he probably can too. he doesn't say anything, hell, you even feel him twitch between your legs. you grind on him, unable to control yourself. it is different than the wand. it's warm, and it responds back. it's better.

"hey," you call, slowly pulling away. "i don't want you to do this because you feel sorry for me or something like that. are you doing it because of that?"

"nah."

before you can continue bombarding him with questions and overthinking, he places his lips back on yours, this time a little rougher than before. you open your mouth, tongue eager to taste him properly. and fuck, he tastes good. you hated cigarettes and alcohol, but from his mouth, you adore it. you finally give in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly close. finally.

it doesn't take long for him to have you whining and grinding on him, wanting more than just kissing and thigh grabbing and occasional choking. you beg into his mouth, quietly at first, but with each kiss he gives you, you become louder and more demanding.

"touch me, please, please, please," you're desperate.

he smiles, for the first time in a while, and snakes his hands under your top. you hurriedly take off the vest and the top, to make it easier for him, but he pulls his vest back on your body. you are now wearing nothing but panties and the leather vest, making daryl incredibly impatient.

"ya just needed some attention, didn't ya?" he kisses your neck, his hand cupping your breast and thumb playing with the hard nub. "some sense fucked into ya to shut that mouth."

for someone that almost never talks, he is quite the talker now. and you can't complain, when his words have you clenching around nothing down there.

"needed someone older to take care of ya."

you moan at his words, spreading your legs further and raising your hips into his crotch. his hand reaches down to your panties, landing a light slap on your clothed clit as a warning. there's growling outside of the shed, but not enough to make you care. you'll get what you want, and no amount of walkers will stop you, even if it'll be your last.

daryl moves your panties aside, pulling away from you to see you. he hums, thumb coming to contact with your clit and circling it a few times. you shake under his touch, throwing your head back. it isn't something you haven't done before, but the touch is foreign, and different. his fingers are rough and big, an opposite of the soft flesh of your clit. he rubs your slit up and down, enough to smear your arousal so he can touch you better.

"fuck..." you trail, grabbing the edges of the counter and digging your nails into the hard surface.

"didn't find a boy your age to open you up?"

you shake your head. he hums again, fingers now circling your tight entrance.

"that's a shame, then. i'm gonna have to take my time with you."

"what? why?" you ask, disappointed.

"i'd split you in half, little one."

every word in that sentence sent arrows to your core. fuck, just how big is he?

"then, what are we doing?"

he turns around, leaving you yearning for his touch while he grabs your discarded toy from the armchair.

"you share toys?"

"sometimes."

"good."

he pulls himself out from his pants, and you are left with your jaw dropped. it fuels his confidence, the way you're staring at him as he rubs himself up and down. he isn't big. he's huge.

"daryl, how will that fit in me?" you ask, actually concerned.

"it'll take a little time. i'll train ya, and you'll take it like a good girl, the way i teach ya. but ya have to start listening to me and stop pissing me off."

nodding eagerly, you push your hips towards his hands, searching for his touch again.

he turns the gadget on, pressing it against your clit. you moan out loud, grinding on the buzzing toy and sliding with ease. you hear him grunt, and even a quiet moan. your eyes drop to the situation between your legs, and when you see him pressing his cock to the gadget, you swear you could squirt all over him. he rocks his hips with yours, pushing you up against the wall and grunting in your mouth, just like you moan into his. he doesn't break eye contact with you, instead getting off on it.

"i'm gonna cum, daryl." you whine, hands reaching into his hair to pull.

"give me a second."

you'd give him two if he wanted. you try your hardest to focus on not yet cumming, but the way he sweats and grunts for you doesn't make it easy.

"daryl-" you warn, moans becoming high pitched and inviting the walkers around the shed.

he sticks two fingers in your mouth, keeping you silent and helping himself get closer. you only needed to swirl your tongue around him a few time and take him all the way to his knuckles to have him moaning and cumming all over your stomach, rubbing the toy up and down in a sloppy pace.

you follow, pleasure washing over your body along with a thin layer of sweat, the sight of his seed on you making it more intense. you are dehydrated, hot and filthy. and you love it, because he is the same. you'd be like that every day, if it meant getting him the way you just had him.

"you didn't have to..." you say as he helps you dress up, wiping his seed from you with his bandana and discarding it.

"i wanted to. before, today, too."

"you sure?"

"yes."

you nod. he sees that you are not convinced, and he sighs. he pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"i rarely regret my actions. trust me."

"yeah, well, i hope i'll get more of these actions you speak of."

he chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you know, for someone who just came all over me, it's weird to see you so sentimental and comforting."

you don't even finish the sentence, he already playfully throws the bandana at you, rushing outside to hide his smile and to hide from your attempt at attacking.

"oh, you- you- you asshole!"

"right back at ya."

***

yippie! my first twd oneshot, idk how to feel about it lol. had this in the drafts for a while now. feel free to send feedback, doesn’t matter if it is good or bad 🩷

#twd #twd imagine #twd smut #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead smut

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xwritingdixonx · 2 months ago

Text

The Lover and The Fool. | Daryl Dixon |

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Summary: As the communities struggle with a cold winter and a post-war world, they embark on help from a community unknown. And as fate decides it, Y/n and Daryl’s paths cross after thirteen years; forcing them to confront the memories and unresolved feelings of what once was.

Warnings: language, angst, arguing, sexual innuendos, situationship, slight smut, haunting the narrative, death

Word Count: aprox. 8k

Era: pre-apocalypse, post Negan war

~Anything in italics is the past~

Tags: @negansbestie

Song Suggestions: Silver Springs - Fleetwood Mac, Do I Wanna Know - Hozier (Cover), We Hug Now - Sydney Rose, The Night We Met - Lord Huron

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The aftermath of war is nothing short of a struggle. Alexandria’s burnt houses, the Hilltop’s shrunken population, and the Kingdoms soiled crops were evident of this.

The pivotal members of these communities gathered in Hilltop, spewing ideas and plans of strengthening their own survival. “We’re just gonna have to start looking harder…scavenge every corner of every town we walk in.” Rick stated. Various maps of the surrounding states and cities. “We’ve already done that Rick…there’s nothing left. We’re gonna have to start traveling farther and farther.” Maggie argued in return, her arms comfortably crossed against her chest.

Rick sighed, looking down at the map of Virginia; counting the various towns marked off.

Jesus kept himself towards the corner of the room. He knew supplies were running low and the cold Virginia winter was proving difficult for new crops. The grounds were hard and frozen, the only rainfall passing through only froze the ground more. The sources of electricity had been damaged amid war [ yet to be fixed ] leaving no room for heat lamps to be of any benefit. He played with the glove on his hand knowing his suggestion wouldn’t be taken well. “I…I have a suggestion.” He finally spoke, all eyes on him.

He took a step forward, “There’s this community in Pennsylvania that is…vast and thriving.” Jesus took a seat beside Rick at the table. “We can ask them for help. For supplies and helping hands to rebuild but…” He paused reluctant to continue.

“But?” Michonne questioned.

“I don’t know if they actually will.”

Daryl scoffed from his stance by the window. "Sounds like a bunch of greedy assholes to me." He commented chewing on the nail of his thumb. Jesus sighed deeply before continuing to speak.

“Their leader is kind and charming but she angers quickly and is prone to a grudge..” As he spoke, he pulled the map of Pennsylvania in front of himself, circling a large area. "I can get her here to talk to you, Rick." Rick himself seemed uncertain. Half of it is from pride and the other half not so ready to trust a stranger.

"This can be something, Rick. A one-time thing that gets us back on our feet." Rick deeply signed, rubbing his chin.

"Alright."

The day lay still in wait for your arrival. Though your body itself was yet to be in Hilltop, your presence could be felt from miles away. Everyone on high alert in anticipation.

Ears perked on the guards on gate duty at the sound of engines grumbling. One car drove ahead, two motorcyclists trailing closely behind. Jesus was quick to be at the gates, knowing his face was the only one you’d recognize.

As the gates slid closed behind the vehicles now within the walls of Hilltop, you exited your vehicle. Jesus was happy to greet you, "Hi Y/n." You smiled at him, "Paul."

A sly smile formed on his face. You had no problem greeting him with open arms. "You got my message." Rick approached the two of you, trying to not interrupt the reunion. "This is Rick, Y/n." Rick reached a hand out to you.

You were gentle in your touch but your defense was on high. Rick saw this in the two men you'd brought along who looked happy to take care of anything thrown their way.

Rick immediately saw the ways you were better off than anyone else here. From the gloves on your hands to the coat on your back. The coat you wore looked handmade, sewn together from various types of black leather. The hood of the coat was lined with some type of animal fur to keep you warm.

“Would ya like anything? Water…liquor maybe?” You chuckled at Rick’s offering, knowing it was in good heart. “No I’m okay, thank you though.” A polite response to hide your own un-surety. You found your eyes wondering about the room examining every detail, having only seen this historical building from the outside. You don't think you'd ever been in a place so nice unless it was a museum.

"I understand how difficult this must be...to welcome someone into your home after your latest affairs." At the beginning of the savior problem, Jesus had reached out to you first. You'd only met each other a few months before when your groups ran into each other while traveling. When you'd declined, not willing to throw your community into an unavoidable war, Jesus turned to Rick.

"It's definitely not easy," Rick admitted "We had our fair share of protests from people." You nodded your head in understanding. “Where are you from? I feel like I hear some South in there.” Rick attempted to joke, seeming to lighten the mood. You chuckled at this, “I’m from Georgia actually, I came upstate years ago for school.”

The conversation continued smoothly having something to relate to the other on. You continued to speak on the rebuilding of Alexandria and helping the communities make it through the winter. Having seemed to of formed some type of bond; Rick still awaited your answer.

A knock sounded from the double doors, Jesus peaking his head through. Rick stood from his seat, "Everyone's here now, if it's a good time?" Jesus had a nervous smile on his face. Rick turned to you for approval, "There's some people I'd love for you to meet...if you're willing?" You responded with a nod of approval. People began to walk in one by one, Rick taking the liberty of introducing them.

“This is Maggie, she’s been running Hilltop in Gregory’s absence. And Michonne, we’ve been working together at Alexandria.” You gave polite smiles to the two women.

“And this is Aaron and Daryl. Two of our best scavengers…Daryl has been working with the saviors.”

You had to look at him twice, not recognizing him the first time. You had to look past the outgrown hair and newly found broad figure. Your heart began to race, your throat running dry, wishing you’d taken Rick's offer of water. You could feel the tenseness in your shoulders soften at his mere presence.

Daryl felt himself freeze, the air disappearing from his lungs.

Rick looked between the both of you, he himself falling silent. “Do you two know each other by chance?” He’d asked innocently. His words break the stare. “Yeah…we were uh..” Daryl couldn’t find the word to say what you were, “friends…long time ago.”

Daryl watched your face change, resorting to a cold glare. The feeling in the room became stiff, every wall seeming to close in. “Yeah, we were friends.” You added in spite. He expected it, how could he forget the terms you’d left things on thirteen years ago?

Awkwardness settled, covering the room like an extremely uncomfortable blanket.

“Y/n and myself were just discussing some things.” Rick attempted to continue the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Whatever kind words exchanged between Rick and you meant nothing now. Your mood had been spoiled. Your nerves were shot and your mind scrambled with thoughts. But still, you tried to keep your composure.

Daryl examined your features intentively. Your eyes looked tired, the youthful hope they once held was no longer.

And whether that was from surviving in a world so cruel or the years themselves, he could not tell. You had small scars on your face. One on the bridge of your nose, high cheekbone, eyebrow, and bottom lip; leaving him wondering who hurt you enough to leave such imperfections. Regardless of any flaws, you never shed your beauty. The same beauty that left him nervous and begging years ago.

He couldn't imagine the same for himself. With unruly, uncut hair, new scars all over his hands, and a solemn attitude, he wasn't much to look at anymore. This world had hardened both of you. Burning away the youthful glow and replacing it was a certain bitter maturity.

You could feel his eyes on you, making you squirm in your chair.

Your hair was long and perfectly upkept, growing well past your breasts. Funny, he thought. You always wanted it long.

You refused to acknowledge his curious eyes, focusing on Rick. But you could still see him in your peripheral vision. " You don't have to give us an answer now. I know this is a lot to ask." Rick chuckled nervously, finding himself in a very uncomfortable situation. "I... uhm...I just need some time to think." Rick nodded understandingly. "Give me two days to collect my thoughts and maybe I'll see you on the third."

"And if we don't?"

"Well, then you have your answer."

You heard Daryl scoff.

Your head whipped to him in an instant. "What?"

"How can ya be so selfish?"

Rick sighed deeply. His high hopes were being squashed by the second - remembering the words Jesus had said. Quick to anger and prone to a grudge.

"Sel-? Daryl." You snickered in return, rolling your eyes. His demeanor only fueled your annoyance as yours did his. It was as if no years had passed, picking up the argument right where it had been left.

People slipped out of the room swiftly, knowing the extent of Daryl's anger. Though they didn't know the extent of yours, they weren't willing to stand around and find out. "Do you even understand what's being asked of me?" You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting back in your chair.

"It ain't that hard...These are good people Y/n. They deserve this." He argued.

"But do you?" Your response is full of spite.

Daryl's face twisted. He couldn't believe your pettiness could go to the lengths you were taking it. He sat up in his chair "That ain't right and ya know it."

You did know it but your emotions were in disarray and you didn't care what was deemed right in this moment.

The anger that accumulated every day without him was coming to the service, burning away any fear of saying what you truly wanted.

"What was right, D?" His nickname coming from your lips made him flinch. Your tone was pointed. You weren't talking about communities anymore. You were talking to him directly.

“I don’t know.”

You could say you didn't know when it started but that would be a lie. You had just turned twenty-one on the sixth day of March, now having the permission needed to work in your uncle's dive bar. It had been in the family for years, your grandfather opening it in the late 1960's. Your uncle and father ran it together until your father's sudden death only five years prior. Your mother's death following soon after.

The bar stunk of cigarettes and the bitter scent of 'fresh linen Febreze' in an attempt to cover the stench. The wood floors and walls held the scent of every drink ever spilled on them. The decorations on the walls hadn't been changed in nearly twenty years. Old school pin-up liquor posters, clique Coke decorations, and stained glass lamp shades above every table.

The red spinny chairs at the bar and at every high-top had never been replaced, the red leather peeling in spots exposing the synthetic material beneath. Even the pool tables had seen the years come and go. The newest thing in this bar was you.

Daryl had only worked there less a year as a busser.

You'd heard of him and his brother around town. But Daryl being four years your elder [and Merle even older] you never knew them personally nor cared to.

The bar was in chaos after a football Sunday, Daryl and you left behind after hours to clean up.

There wasn't much said that night, Daryl busy in the back scrubbing glass after glass. You busy in the front counting cash, cleaning any drink you'd spilled in the rush of the night.

You'd knelt down on your knees to clean a beer spill beneath a table, knowing it would turn into a sticky mess if you didn't. "Hey, hey." Daryl interrupted you, grabbing your attention by gently grazing your shoulder with his fingertips. You looked to him, eyes furrowed from your spot on the ground. "I can get under there, don't worry 'bout it." He had even offered you a hand to stand back up.

Your first impression of Daryl was gentle and kind nothing like the cruel words he'd been called from the mouths of other townies. He spent the rest of the night interrupting you, refusing to allow you to do any hard labor; stating over and over that he'll "get it".

You were nothing more than coworkers at first. You began to tease him with flirty jokes and desirable glances throughout the busy nights. Leaving Daryl blushing and scurrying away to the back with his bin full of clanking beer glasses. You held conversations in the slow mornings having no other company besides him and a few retired men who wanted nothing more than to get away from their wives.

"I hope that love never finds me." You'd said to Daryl on one of those particular mornings. "What ya mean?" You were gazing at one of those men from your spot behind the bar, a regular who visited daily. "Spending their days here instead of home just to get away from their quote, pestering wives." You used air quotations, having heard the same story over and over again. "They loved each other once." You shook your head in disappointment. "Now all they can love is Budweiser and harassing bartenders."

Daryl watched the words flow from your lips so smoothly, trying to imagine how they'd feel on his own. "Ya know?" You grabbed Daryl's attention. "Yeah, yeah." You chuckled and shook your head, "You weren't listening."

A whiskey bottle and a pool table changed things that very night. Soon after it was as though you couldn't stray away from another, no matter how many times you said you couldn't do it again.

A closeness grew steadfastly.

You'd come to know every inch of him. And every second of his life. As he did you. He'd opened up to you about his mother's death and his complicated relationship with his brother. He'd say he hated them.. but felt an obligation to love them because they were merely family. His father on the other hand was dead to him, being the way he put it. You related on this certain despair, few blood relatives left for you. It was just your sister, you, and your uncle. Your uncle never married and never had children, having put too much of his devotion to the bar.

The loneliness the two of you shared was apparent, finding solitude in this newfound company of one another.

What you were doing didn't have a name. It wasn't in the rulebook of relationships. Maybe your loneliness made you desperate. Maybe it was nothing at all besides two horny twenty-something-year-olds craving the touch of another. But what you did know was that he filled a hole within you, a hole that had been carved when you'd lost your parents.

Your sister wasn't very fond of it. She'd tell you that you deserved to be loved openly and freely, not only within the sheets [or bent over a pool table.]

The days turned into weeks, then months, and then it was approaching a year.

A soft moan fell from your lips quickly being stifled by the lips of another. You ground your hips against his determinedly, chasing the high you so desperately craved. The liquor is your system making your head fuzzy, the words he gently spoke to you only adding to your daze.

He muttered words of encouragement through his own pleasure, edging you closer and closer. It hit you like a wave, abrupt and full of adrenaline. His own hitting him the same, head dropping into the crevice of your shoulder.

You could feel his heartbeat against your own. You drearily brushed his back with your fingertips, “Daryl?” You asked innocently. “Hm?” He didn’t move from his position. “You okay?”

Daryl began to kiss your neck tenderly, “Course m’okay.” The kisses didn't earn the reaction they typically did. He lifted from his position, seeing as your eyes stared up at your ceiling. "Are ya okay?" He repeated the question back to you. "Have you ever thought about leaving this place?"

Daryl shifted off of you alleviating his weight. "Like leavin' town? or leavin' Georgia?" You shifted in the bed, "Either." You lay on your stomach and propped your elbow up, looking at him. The room was dim but you still saw Daryl's face contort to a kind of discomfort.

"Where would ya go?"

"We can go anywhere." You made sure to include Daryl in this. Making sure he knew he wasn't trapped here. "But the Upper East Coast has some really good schools for culinary...I think I'd like to do that." Daryl reached over beginning to rub delicate circles on your bare back. This gave you a sense of reassurance. A gentle reminder that he wasn't mad at you for desiring such a thing.

"Could be nice. Ya know I love yer cooking." Daryl looked at you with a dreamy gaze. He didn't allow himself to relish in such fantasies often. Typically keeping a certain, expect the worst and you'll never be disappointed, headspace to himself.

But something felt different tonight. Perhaps it had been the gentle, I love you, you'd whispered against his lips earlier in the night. Or the way he’d said it back. When he’d brought himself to his knees for you as his lips were stamping kisses on the delicate skin of your inner thighs. Muttering those three words before slipping his tongue where you needed it.

Daryl was working pre-open shift at the bar; cleaning up various glasses and sweeping cigarette butts beneath every booth and table. He enjoyed mornings like this, they were quiet, the only company he had to endure was that of his own. Motorhead played quietly through the radio behind the bar. Daryl lost within the beat of the song, he'd completely missed you walking in the door.

"Hey D." His head whipped around. You smiled at him gently. He greeted you with an equally gentle good morning. "What are ya doin' here?" Though you'd disrupted his morning, he'd never complain. "I had to see you...I have to talk to you about something." The seriousness in your tone unsettled him. He turned the radio off and leaned his broom against the bar.

You could feel your heart beating against your chest making you feel as though you could vomit at any given second. Your mouth unintentionally hung slightly open as you grasped for words.

This only made Daryl more uneasy. He viewed you as a confident person, that spoke openly about anything. He rattled his mind for any possibility that could, quite literally, leave you speechless.

“Are you uh…pregnant?” Your eyes widened, “No! no.” You quickly rejected this giving him a moment of relief.

“So then what is it Y/n?” You fiddled with the ring on your right hand.

“Do ya not wanna do this anymore?” Daryl’s anxiety grew.

“Delilah is moving.” You blurted out quickly. “She wants to go live with that guy she met online...and I’m gonna go with her.”

Daryl shifted on his feet. “Where?”

“Massachusetts.” This made his heart plummet.

“Why?”

“I wanna go to school D.” Your words were meant to be firm but the unsteady tone of your voice made them sound nervous. Daryl’s silence unsettled you, he avoided your gaze, opting to look at the wood floor.

“There’s not much for me here.” A pitiful attempt to justify your decision.

“I’m here.”

You sighed deeply, averting your gaze to the floor, unable to look at the frown drawn on his face.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Your teary eyes looked to him for an answer. “Hm?…You think it’s easy for me to leave my home? To leave where my mom and dad are buried? To leave you?”

“So don’t go.” Daryls voice was only above a whisper.

“Come with me.” It wasn’t a question. You said it as though it was a statement, demanding him to follow. “What?”

It had been a thought in the back of your mind for days. You had been finding it difficult to plan your own future states away without him in it. “I’m asking you to come with me.” Knowing he had no words for you, you continued on. “I can't live with Delilah forever, we can find a place together...You can get a job anywhere up there. You’re great with your hands D, you can do anything.”

It seemed as though he debated your offering. "Come on." You tried to encourage him. "We talked about it months ago. What's changed since then?" You took a step closer trying to ignore the step he took back in return.

“I can’t just up and leave Y/n. I can’t leave Merle.”

The scoff that you gave in response irritated him, knowing your pronounced dislike for his elder brother. “Merle’s in jail, Daryl.” You said it as if he didn’t know. “You’re just gonna wait till Merle gets his shit together to start living your own life?” The conversation was quickly turning bitter.

Daryl swallowed his pride though an argument was never something he backed down from. “Gotta get back to cleanin’.” He stated dryly. You watched in shock as he grasped up the broom and turned his back to you.

“Wha-Daryl.” He ignored you, sweeping the emptied peanut shells into a small pile. “Daryl.” Again, nothing. “Daryl please.” You grazed his back with your fingertips, testing to see if he'd allow your touch. "Please talk to me.” You whispered once more as you wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his back. He radiated a warmth all too familiar.

Daryl stopped his movements allowing his arms to fall loosely at his side. It felt as though he'd stop breathing for a second trying to hold back the sobs that heaved his chest. This shook your body with his. You only gripped your arms tighter and began dragging your hands up and down his chest almost as a way of comfort.

Daryl shoved your arms from him, spatting at you to get off. “Go on! Go on get!” He snapped in an instant. His words made you feel like a mangy dog begging for food. His eyes were still red from his tears, and the pale complexion of his cheeks was now red and inflamed. Daryl threw his arm to the door dramatically, “Leave just like everyone else!”

“That’s not fair! You can’t put that on me.”

“Why not? You ain’t making it any better!”

“I’m asking you to come with me!”

“Oh that’s just so nice of ya Y/n!”

Daryl took a step towards you.

“Here!” Daryl shoved the broom into your hands, leaving you bewildered. “Give it a little kiss and then beat me with it why don’t ya?!” He shouted sarcastically. “Oh my god, really?!” You threw the broom to the ground, wood clattering. “You’re ridiculous.” You spat in his face.

“How so huh?! That’s exactly what yer doin’!” Daryl’s face was mere inches from your own. Though his words were full of anger, it didn’t cover up his eyes full of tears.

“Wether I stay or go yer leavin’ anyway.” His voice broke. He quickly pulled away from you, unable to look at your pouting face any longer without he himself falling apart.

You had no words for him, knowing there was truth in what he said. The tears finally broke past your water line, "I'm sorry Daryl, I'm-" "Get out Y/n." His venomous tone seeped deep into your skin, unsettling you to your core. Daryl had always been gentle with you, he never dared to take a tone so cruel.

"Okay." You agreed trying to give him his space. You turned to the door, stopping before touching the handle. "I'll still be in town till next Monday." As you swung open the door, you looked to him, “I’ll see you soon D.” You left thinking you could circle to the conversation later in the day after he’d collected his thoughts.

You never did see him again. He'd disappeared after that day. You spent your remaining days in Georgia trying to hunt down the man you'd spent almost every day with for the past year and a half. You asked around but no one knew. You even went as far as talking to his dad. An hour of your life wasted, the air you breathed taken up by whiskey breath.

The phone call you made to Merle also proved futile. He'd asked you for money in his commissary in exchange for information. The phone call ended in a plethora of curse words.

Daryl had shown up back in town sometime after you'd gone, acting as if nothing had happened. He never returned back to work at the bar, having found work at a local body shop. He wouldn’t dare face your uncle. And he couldn’t return to the spot that reminded him so much of you. He forced himself to have no desire to hear anything about you nor return to any spots where you’d graced. But unfortunately for him, that was almost every where in a town as small as this one.

He never saw the bar again, opting to drive a town over to get drinks. He’d heard from other locals that the new bartender didn’t make drinks as good as yours anyway. He struggled to go to the local diner. With it being a place you frequently got breakfast together, especially after one of your long nights, having worked up such an appetite. Merle dragged him there when he was released as a celebration meal. He felt inclined to order your favorite dish just to feel a bit closer to you. Biscuits and gravy with a side of over easy eggs and hashbrowns.

He continued to run from the grief of losing you until it crept up on him in the middle of the juice aisle of the grocery store, unable to buy the same orange juice brand he always had simply because it was your favorite too. Daryl found it difficult to go about his routines without your ghost grabbing him by his throat, dragging him down into a pit of regret.

Daryl never did escape that town. Not until the world forced him out of it on foot. And he never escaped Merle. Even when his blade ended his brother's life mercifully, he never felt as though he escaped his shadow.

The argument with Daryl raged on. Neither of you cared to hear the side of the other. At this moment both of you were right, both were justified in the stance they took. Despite the fact that there was a regret imbedded in both your hearts.

You were right for leaving even if every second of your life after was a well of loneliness.

He was right for staying even if every waking day in that town was misery.

"Where did you even fucking go?" You cursed.

"The hell you talking 'bout?" He cursed back.

"That day...you just fucking vanished." The volume in your tone diminished yet you still demanded an answer. "I- I stayed at the cabin." Daryl shamefully admitted.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "Cab-? Oh my god." You put your head in your hands, feeling a wave of frustration hit you. It sounded so ridiculous you almost laughed. It was the one place you failed to check. His grandfather's old hunting cabin. Technically abandoned yet still in his grandfathers name, it was a place Daryl ran to when he needed to escape, especially from the wrath of his father.

“M’sorry…it was just too much for me to see ya leave.”

“Oh please!" Your head shot up not in the mood for apologies. “You just didn’t want me to try to change your mind!” You argued. “You lived your life with Meryl just as you wanted it and I spent thirteen years waiting for someone who would never come.”

“What are ya talking about?” Daryl’s tone was nothing short of disbelief. “I never came? What about you huh? Ya never called, never wrote, never visited.” Daryl shouted. Your face scrunched in confusion, staring at him. “Ya just…” Daryl’s breath hitched as he could feel his chest begin to hurt. “Just walked out that day and never came back.” His voice cracked, attempting to blink away the tears in his eyes.

Your anger diminished though your heart still raced with adrenaline. “Daryl, what are you…?” Your confusion was too strong to find words. “What are you talking about?” The two of you stood opposite the other, equally confused.

“ I…I sent letters all the time. I sent postcards from anywhere I went. I sent Christmas cards and birthday cards with gifts and money…” You stuttered over your words, your hands frantically moving about. “I visited three times and made a fool of myself driving around town, asking people about you.” The frantic way you spoke made your chest heave.

Silence followed, each of you trying to digest the words of the other. “You know this.” You stated firmly. “Please tell me you know this.” The anger that once filled the room was replaced with sorrow. “No…never got no cards…ain’t nobody ever said anything to me about you visitin’.” Daryl responded.

You scoffed, muttering a quiet of course. The tears you had been trying to avoid, fought their way to your waterline. You weren’t sure why you had expected anything more from the people of that town; nor why you expected more from his father. The countless amount of letters you’d poured your heart into, thrown in the trash. And your money stolen; only to be used on liquor and cigarettes.

“Why did ya send me money?” Daryl asked abruptly, as if though it insulted him.

“Really? That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Wouldn’t have taken your money Y/n.”

You bickered back and forth.

“This isn’t about the money, Daryl!” You snapped. Daryl was taken aback by your sudden outburst. You muttered a curse beneath your breath and stood from your chair; helping yourself to the bar cart. Opting to drown your frustration in liquor.

The whiskey poured into your glass smoothly.

Daryl sat silently in his chair. You had never yelled at him in such a manner before. “What happened to yer accent?" Daryl asked. You licked the liquor from your lips, turning to face him once again. "What?" He stood from his chair, meeting you at your level. "I only hear it when ya say certain words or when ya yell..." His words sounded as if he was hurt by this, “Ya don’t sound like I remember.”

You stumbled over your words for an excuse but found none. "It just faded after time, I guess."

You were growing tired of arguing with him, suddenly becoming conscious of how long you'd been in this room. "I have to go." You grabbed for your jacket on the table. "Come on, don't." Daryl stepped in your way, blocking your path.

This only frustrated you more. "Daryl, I've been here long enough." You were pleading with him to let you go, becoming overwhelmed with your own emotions.

You began bickering over each other, words blending together all at once.

"We used to dance together. You and I." The abrupt sentence stopped the bickering. Your bottom lip quivered, teary eyes looking up at him. "In the bar late at night, once everyone had gone and the only thing they played on the radio was old love songs." It was a memory Daryl had tried to forget. A feeling he'd shoved so far down within himself that only you could pull it back to the surface.

If he dwelled on it long enough he could still feel your body pressed against his, head resting on his shoulder. The way your arms grasped onto the other, softly swaying to the music that hummed statically through the radio.

"We could've had something together Daryl." The tears brushed against your lashes, rolling down your cheeks. "But you didn't want it." You finally snuck around him, snatching your jacket from the table.

"That ain't true." His voice broke.

A frustrated sigh left you, "It doesn't matter now, it's too late." You angrily shoved your arms into the sleeves of your jacket.

"Y/n." Daryl reaches for you.

You ripped your arm away from him at the feeling of his fingertips brushing against the skin of your hand. "It's too late Daryl." Once your coat was on, you made for the door. No hesitation to leave him behind this time.

The sound of your boots against the wood floors echoed through the building, followed by the slam of the door. He stood there aimlessly, his eyes mapping out where you'd once stood.

Sleep didn't grace Daryl for those two days. He laid awake, tossing and turning, you on his mind. His daily tasks at the sanctuary were interrupted constantly by his own anxiety, leaving him irritable and antsy.

Daryl wondered what you were doing at any given moment. He wondered if you were thinking of him just as much. Spitefully hoping you were just as restless as him. Hoping the mere thought of him ruined your day and left you sleepless. But when his spite wore away he found himself in a pit of despair.

On the third day, he made sure to be in Hilltop on wait for your [potential] arrival.

The thought that you might not actually come made him sick. Every hour that passed left him more and more hopeless.

Daryl, please go rest. Rick tried to coax him, knowing he'd been up before the crack of dawn. But he wouldn't, refusing to leave the spot on the porch he'd made his own.

A low rumble vibrated Daryl's eardrums. The recognizable hum of a bike. Of multiple bikes even. Then came the heavy tires of a truck, bumping along the dirt road, causing its chains to smack against the metal exterior.

The metal gates rolled open smoothly just in time for the vehicles to pass through.

You rolled the busted black pickup truck to a stop. The two bikers returned, putting their kickstands into the hardened ground. The white cargo van behind you came to a halt, the words 'Tony's Bakery and Deli' still painted on its side in red cursive.

The bed of the truck you drove was covered with a blue tarpe, the ropes wrapped around the top kept the tarpe from flying away.

Daryl watched you hop out of the truck, a sly smile poking at your cheeks. There was a different essence to you. Your presence itself felt lighter like a weight had been lifted. Rick and Maggie were first to greet you bringing a group with them to begin unloading.

Daryl couldn't keep himself from the crowd, strolling over to begin helping. He watched as you immediately jumped into guidance, instructing everyone on what was what and where to put it. You'd pulled down the bed of the truck, hoping atop to begin passing out the milk crates of food.

Daryl had never seen you work like this. But he couldn't be more proud. You caught his eye from your stance atop the bed of the truck. You gave him a small wave that he returned. A heat rushed through him. That's when he averted his eyes, turning his attention to work of his own.

The door of the cargo truck was slid open, metal slapping at the top. Daryl was first to gladly climb into the back, passing down boxes to the people beneath, proudly taking on the weight of the cargo.

The people from your community that you brought as helping hands collaborated with the people of the Hilltop. They worked together unloading the trucks, dividing things into piles by community. Conversations were going on between many people, and the hum of delightful chatter filled the cold air.

"I've given what I could for each community, I hope it'll be enough to at least make things comfortable for a little bit." You stood with Rick, taking a break having been unpacking for well over an hour. “It's more than enough Y/n. Thank you."

You smiled to yourself, trying not to feel guilty about how much you enjoyed the praise for yourself. "We can continue conversations of reconstructions later on. We have plenty of ex-construction workers, and carpenters, and well just men who can't wait to get their hands dirty again." A soft laugh came after your words, Rick chuckling as well.

The feeling of someone approaching broke the conversation. You turned your head, grateful it was who you'd hoped.

Rick glanced between the two of you, quietly walking away.

"Ya look nice." Daryl complimented. You glance down at yourself, cocking an eyebrow at him. The same leather jacket you wore days before fitting your figure again, black leather gloves covering your hands, a thick brown plaid scarf wrapped around your neck. "I've looked better."

Daryl swallowed harshly, unsure of how to continue. "I have something for you." You continued for him. You nudged your head in the direction of your truck, insinuating for him to follow.

"This is for you." You pulled a piece of clothing from the front seat of the car, closing it after. "It's uhh.." You presented the clothing to him. a black leather poncho with a hood, a soft brown fur lining it. "A lady at the community makes them." The poncho passed from your hands to his. Daryl looked at you flustered unsure of what to say. "Come on, let's try it." A hopeful smile beamed on your features. He reluctantly slipped the poncho over his head, the soft interior brushing against his face. "Hmm...it's nice."

Yeah, you whispered.

"It's uhm, it's..." Before you could explain yourself, you took a step closer, finding yourself adjusting the garment as it was meant to be.

"There we go." You pointed to the car window where Daryl could see his reflection. "It gets colds up here for a southern boy, gotta keep you warm." You joked. Your hand rested on his arm longer than intended but you couldn't seem to remove it.

Though the thick material of the poncho blocked your true touch, Daryl could still feel it. It radiated a warmth through the material.

When your eyes met his in the reflection of the window, Daryl saw a lifetime with you flash before him. A lifetime he could have never known. You didn't pull your gaze. Thirteen years of longing looked back at you, a certain sorrow burrowed beneath those eyes. Your heartbeat quickened and the smile slowly faded. You swiftly removed your hand, taking a step away.

"Thank you."

"Course."

You nervously played with the material of your glove. With the large scarf around your neck, you felt like a turtle sheepishly pulling itself back into its shell. "Ya wanna go sit somewhere with me?" A sigh of relief left you. "I'd love that."

Daryl had guided you to a wooden bench by the building, still in eyesight of the unloading cargo. You watched Rick with his clipboard and pen taking inventory. You sat atop the bench, planting your feet where someone would typically sit. You stretched your back, a small crack following due to sitting for a consistent four-hour drive.

"I packed some of that soap you used to like, the pine one? IrishSprings...I would suggest claiming it before anyone else does." Daryl nodded with appreciation. "Thank you for doing this." You were no fool to the topic Daryl and you were gently dancing around. "I forgive you." The forgiveness spewed uncontrollably from your lips.

Daryl didn't give you a response to this, not because he didn't want to. But because it was so sudden it startled him. "I've spent a lot of years being alone and angry. And I..." You paused, "I don't wanna be like that anymore especially not towards you."

"I forgive ya too, Y/n." A deep shaky breath shook your body, finally hearing the words you'd longed for come from his lips. "And I'm proud of ya." You laughed at this. It was the only way to avoid tears. "Really. I am. Ya got out, you were a chef. You started a whole goddamn community. You got everything ya wanted." Your glossy eyes met his. "Well, I didn't get everything." You nudged his knee with your own.

The blue of his eyes didn't shine the way it used to.

He broke your gaze, looking down at his feet. “We’re you ever ah..with, you know someone else?” Daryl asked the question he’d been itching to ask. His possessive nature desired to hear a no. But he couldn’t be so selfish.

“I slept with people but nothing ever serious.” You admitted truthfully. No man or woman ever filled the hole he left behind. Everyone you ever met you compared to him in some way. No one had his charm. They never understood you the way he did. Never touched you the way he had. You eventually gave up trying to find something else, opting to throw yourself into work; figuring you couldn’t care for relationships if you were too busy in your career.

“Did you?” You turned the question to him. “No.” He scoffed sarcastically as if it was ridiculous of you to even suggest such a thing.

You felt ashamed to admit that his answer slightly pleased you. “I hate when you do that.” You commented with a shake of your head. “Do what?” Daryl replied gently. “Put yourself down so much…You’re handsome, D…Always have been. Anyone after me would’ve been more than lucky.”

Daryl was unable to articulate a reply to such a statement. You turned your head towards him, “Don’t look so surprised.” You cheekily teased.

You’d sat on the bench until your bum had fallen asleep and gone numb. It wasn’t as if you didn’t have plenty to catch up on. He’d lost Merle just as you’d lost Delilah. He asked you questions about work and what it was like to be a chef; you’d shown him all the little scars you’d acquired on your hands from your knife.

You could’ve sat there and talked to him until the sun set and rose the next day.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Rick interrupted.

“That’s okay.” You dismissed, standing from the bench, trying to ignore the numbness in your limbs. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just wanted to come tell you that we’re all wrapped up.”

The horn of a car caught your attention and interrupted Rick. One of your men reached into the truck and his free arm waved you over indicating they were ready to go.

"It probably is best if we start heading out." A deep sigh followed your words. "Ya just got here." Daryl responded quickly. An airy chuckle left you at his hastiness. "It's been a long morning. We've been up since before the sun prepping everything and then the drive..." Your words trailed off watching Daryl's face droop into a frown.

Daryl nodded his head in understanding, preparing himself for yet another goodbye. "You're welcome to stay." Rick offered. "I mean we could use the help distributing everything to the other communities...I'm sure everyone would love to meet ya and say thank you." Rick looked at you sincerely. "We can make room for everyone to sleep tonight."

You could sense Daryl's eyes looking to you for an answer, practically pleading for you to say yes. "I- I don't.." You looked over your shoulder at your group. "They'd worry back at home too much. It was only meant to be a day trip." Dary's disappointment was apparent. "Well, you're welcome anytime," Rick muttered another thank you before making his exit.

You avoided Daryl's eyes, not needing to feel more guilt for your answer. "I'll be around, there's still so much to do here and in Alexandria." Your words were an attempt to mend the wound you'd created.

"Are you okay with seeing me again? And again...? And again...?" You were picking fun at him, a teasing tone in your voice. He couldn't hide the smile that poked his cheeks, "Course I am."

"Good." A cheeky smile formed on your own face. Hearing the sounds of engines beginning to rumble brought you back to reality. “I’ll see you soon, D." You gently touched his arm before turning away.

Daryl shoved his hands under the poncho into the front pockets of his pants, his gaze following every step you took.

You looked back to him, tasting the words on your tongue, the same way they tasted thirteen years ago. Come with me. But you wouldn't, the fear of being rejected yet again silences you. Go. Daryl formed the word bittersweetly, nudging his head. He gave you the permission you needed to turn away.

Daryl didn't move from the spot he stood. Even as everyone else's attention turned away, it was his love for you that kept his feet glued in the dirt. His eyes didn't leave until the last inch of the gate had been closed.

A lump formed in your throat. You threw on the brave face of what you thought a leader should be, forcefully swallowing it down. But the sorrow that made your heart empty only grew the farther the car drove. Hot silent tears rolled down your cheeks. You sniffled the snot that dared leak from your nose, forcing it down the back of your throat. This made you feel sick, wanting to throw up the mucus.

You kept yourself in this continuous loop for miles, your free hand clutching at your stomach as you whimpered like a wounded animal. You thought that if you kept on the feeling would eventually go away. But still, it persisted.

Daryl made his journey to Alexandria, offering his hand in aid to deliver the supplies. He'd returned back to what was his home in the community, though he couldn't recall the last time he'd stayed here.

No sleep would greet him that night, he was sure of it. He had too many thoughts of you floating aimlessly in his mind to lay to rest. He sat solemnly at his kitchen table, fiddling with making new arrows for his bow.

Your feet guided you swiftly through the unfamiliar streets of Alexandria, following the directions Rick had given you at the gates. You repeated them to yourself over and over. Make a right, pass two houses, make a left, house on the corner.

You saw the house in the distance, Daryl's bike parked in the large driveway. The adrenaline pumping through your veins voided any anxieties.

You gently knocked on the door and awaited a response. You looked around the exterior trying to see any signs of life. The subtle orange glow of flames could be seen through the sheer curtains. Impulsively you grabbed the door handle allowing yourself entry.

Daryl stood up in an instant on high alert at the sound of the door. When your figure came into view through the darkness of the hallway, his tensed shoulders dropped. The only light was that of the various candles he'd lit amongst the kitchen.

"Y/n?" Daryl tossed the rag he'd cleaned his hands with on the kitchen table. "What are ya doin' here?" Your cheeks were puffy and cold from being in the harsh winter air for so long. The tip of your nose was frozen, completely cold to the touch.

"I turned back. I went to Hilltop but Maggie sent me here.” You stutter over your words, “I had to see you." You walked closer to him slightly out of breath from your brisk walk over. Daryl's heart pounded against his chest. The warm glow within the darkness gleamed against your glassy eyes.

"I always told myself that if I ever saw you again, I wouldn't leave. That...I'd figure something out to make this work."

Your lips formed together but you were reluctant to continue.

"I wou-"

"Wha-"

You cut each other off, words piling up together.

"M'sorry." Daryl apologized, gesturing for you to continue.

"I know I said it was too late but...I would like so much for us to have a second chance."

Daryl swallowed harshly. Your expression goes from seeking to wary in a second at his silence. "I would like that too." You allowed yourself to breathe, a chuckle of relief leaving you.

You stepped toward him, practically collapsing into his arms. A sense of relief washed over you. You moved your arms to place them around him. Daryl had grown more broad than you'd seen him last, filling your outstretched arms so perfectly. You felt whole once again.

Daryl felt his body melt into yours. The tension he’d felt so heavily on his shoulders diminished. You welcomed nothing but the silence and the warmth of his body. It was as though neither of you could pull away, melting into one.

Daryl only pulled away to look at you when he felt your chest vibrate, examining if it was from laughter or tears. It was a mixture of both. He gently brushed your hair from your face, "What's wrong?"

You felt foolish for your disarray of emotions, wiping at a tear that tickled your cheek.

"You smell of pine."

Music played through the radio behind the bar, the radio station you’d flicked on was currently on a Fleetwood Mac streak. You were behind the bar with your notepad, taking inventory of the bottles for the week. Daryl was sitting at a nearby booth, polishing up whiskey glasses.

“We’re gonna try something new and start to slow things down for any of those late-night lovers out there.” The radio host announced after the last song came to an end.

You cocked an eyebrow at Daryl, who returned your confused expression. “Well, that’s new.” You laughed making your way from behind the counter.

Daryl hummed an agreement.

You listened intensively trying pinpoint the familiar tune that began to play. You smiled to yourself, Put Your Head On My Shoulder, began. It was a clique song that anyone and their mother would recognize but you couldn’t deny the catchiness of it. From your seat across Daryl, he watched you gently mouthing the words. You were too busy going over your notes to see him stealing looks at you.

Daryl smiled to himself. The dim lighting of the bar cast a shadow on your features. The scowl on your brows showed your deep concentration. Daryl admired the way your nose was casted perfectly to fit your face. He traced the outline of your lips as they moved with the lyrics. He swooned at the thought of you being no one else’s but his.

“Do you wanna dance together?” Daryl raised an eyebrow at you. “What?” You placed your notepad on the table, an amused look on your face. “I don’t know how to do that.” You chuckled, standing from the booth. “You don’t have to do much.” The song on the radio faded into, When a Man Loves a Women.

You held out a hand to him, edging him to follow. He reluctantly did so, calling you crazy.

You were unsure yourself how to dance. But something compelled you to try.

You placed your feet in front of his. You instructed his movements, directing him to hold your right hand up and place his other on your waist. You did so as if you had any idea what you were doing. You were merely repeating the stance you'd seen in so many movies. "Now just kinda sway."

Daryl awkwardly moved his body. You giggled to yourself, "You look stiff as a board." You teased.

"You kinda gotta move your feet too, like this."

The wood floors creaked beneath your moving feet. Daryl felt the way your hips glided beneath his hand. Daryl seemed to ease into the unfamiliar rhythm of this dance. He was unsure if this was really a "dance" but wether it was or wasn't, it didn't matter. Because it was yours and his.

Your chest began to feel heavy, an overwhelming sense of emotion hurdling toward you. With a heavy heart, you moved closer and took your chance to rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomed this, resting his own atop yours. Being so close to him now you relished in his scent. "You smell nice..." You complimented. The sweet smell of pine greeted you on his skin.

You couldn't complain about the fresh scent but you'd grown used to his scent typically being cigarette smoke and whatever soap was on sale at the market.

"Thanks...got a new soap 'n took a bath."

"A bath?" Your laugh vibrated Daryl's chest. You pulled your head from his shoulder meeting his eyes with a joyful gleam. "Yeah so?"

Your bodies swaying to the rhythm of the song didn't falter. "Was it a bubble bath?" You sniffed him again, "With some very manly scented bath salts?" Daryl rolled his eyes at your jest. "Yer not funny." The smile creeping on his face said otherwise. You found yourself lying on his shoulder again, the scent of pine greeting you once more.

The songs continued on the radio but no matter how many came and went, you couldn't seem to unlock your arms from him. You'd fall asleep right there if humanly possible. "Is it okay if I say I love you?" Your voice was meek like a timid mouse. Daryl placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"It's okay."

Daryl and you had eleven years together almost making up for the thirteen missed. You'd "married" in the Spring of the second year when Daryl surprised you with a flower field he'd come across while hunting; a ring for you safely hidden in his back pocket. It was a gold ring with three lavender-colored gemstones, and tiny pearls scattered around the stones imbedded in the band. He'd chosen a basic gold band for himself. The antique store had the set priced at $3,150 [before tax]. But it was his for free.

You met your demise on a sunny day in what was presumed to be March; when the sun shines warmth but the wind still provides a shiver. It would've been only days after your forty-seventh birthday.

We'll find each other again. You'd reassured him through your own pain.

People told him he was lucky to have been there to hold you a final time. But he didn't feel lucky. And he felt even less when he had to put that blade in your skull, preventing you from turning.

Daryl would never find another and he never left the home you'd built together. But this time, instead of running from the memory of you, he was able to embrace it. He'd read through the recipes you'd written and even tried to cook some. Though they never tasted how he remembered. You had something special in your cooking, a taste he could never replicate. I pour all my love for you into it, You'd joke when he'd ask.

He wore your ring on his pinky every day and wore nothing but black clothing as if always in mourning for you.

He never deemed himself someone who walked toward death but some days he found himself welcoming it, desiring nothing more than to be with you again.

Daryl knew he'd spend the rest of his time on this morbid earth in torment until he was to see you again.

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francisofthespook · 3 months ago

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Bed Chem

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, nothing too explicit

Word Count: 3195

Setting: Alexandria, Pre-Negan

A/N: Hi guys I'm super excited about this oneeeee ! When I first started writing for Daryl I had this idea in mind and it was what inspired me to start writing again. I waited a bit to write this, I had been working it out in my head and trying to figure out where to take it but Daryl is so Bed Chem coded in my head and you can't tell me otherwise. I hope y'all like it :)))

(Moderately proofread, but I will probably still go back in and edit it later lol)

(( I made the borders :) ))

“I don't know… I think it's too much,” you said as you turned around, holding out the ends of the dress with your hands. “Girl, are you kidding? You look amazing, you have to wear it!” With an exasperated breath, you turned and looked at yourself in the full-length mirror again. You looked at Rosita in the reflection and gave her a small smile before admiring the dress again.

It was super cute, but you felt it was too much for the small party. You ran your fingers along the ruching at the neck, pinching and pulling at the buttery smooth fabric and trying to pull it up so it wasn't too low. The sheer blue baby doll dress fell to your mid-thigh and had off-the-shoulder puff sleeves high enough to show off your tattoos. Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the bow at the center of the neckline before facing the girls again. “Okay fine.”

Maggie and Rosita quietly squealed in excitement at your defeat. “You guys look so pretty,” You marveled at your two friends. “Thanks to you! I had no idea you were hiding these gems in your closet.” Maggie said with a wink.

It may have been dumb, but you had a thing for collecting cute dresses while out on runs. You knew that they would likely never get worn, but you kept them tucked away in the back of your closet in hopes that one day the world would be normal enough that a situation would arise where you could finally wear them. This was kinda one of those situations.

Alexandria had been your ‘home’ for the past two years. You had stumbled upon Aaron while searching for a new campsite, and ever since then you had been happy to call yourself an ‘Alexandrian’. Life had been pretty normal, nothing like it used to be, but normal enough. Until Rick’s group arrived.

Something about these people felt different, you could just tell they had been through it. They all seemed pretty unsure at first, not wanting to trust that this place could be real. But slowly, they began to let their walls down and accept that this was a safe place. Well, as safe as it could be.

It was Deanna’s idea to have this little party. Although the newcomers had been settling in, it was still very obvious that there was a divide. In hopes of blurring that line, Deanna suggested that we throw a party. Her thinking was that if we all got together and had a good time, we would feel more ‘unified’ as a people. You had been trying on your own to make friends with the newcomers, and Maggie and Rosita were the most receptive to your attempts at friendship.

You had been hanging out with them for about a week now, and anyone who didn’t know you guys would have thought you had been friends since birth. Something about the two girls just resonated with you, you understood each other in ways that the others couldn't. So you were more than happy to share your small collection of dresses with them when the party was announced.

“What are we waiting for, let's go!” Maggie announced, and the three of you did final looks in the mirror before walking over to Deanna’s house.

The house was more packed than you had ever seen it before. The three of you squeezed your way in and found a spot in the far corner of the living room. Soft music was playing over the speakers as everyone mingled. It warmed your heart to see everyone finally opening up, and you hoped that this would lead to strong bonds between the two groups.

“I’m gonna go find Abraham,” Rosita said, leaning in before continuing “Show off my cute dress.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I gotta go find Glenn too, see what he thinks of mine,” Maggie said with a smile. “I have a feeling you guys won't be at this party much longer…” You said, laughing. “We’ll be sure to come find you before we leave,” Rosita replied, giving you a playful shove. “You sure you’re okay on your own for a bit?” You looked over to Maggie, rolling your eyes. “Guys, I'll be fine, you go have fun! I’m gonna get a drink” The three of you gave each other small waves as you went your separate ways.

You made your way over to the makeshift bar, waving and saying small hellos to the people you passed. The options were limited, but you grabbed a bottle of cheap champagne and some orange juice to make yourself a mimosa. Taking a sip, you turned around to go look for Aaron, but as you turned you bumped into someone. The stranger reached out and grabbed your shoulder to help steady you before you fell. “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!”

The stranger let his hand linger on your shoulder for a second before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He swiftly removed his hand and took a step back, grunting “S’fine.” You didn’t recognize this man. He definitely wasn’t from Alexandria, you would have recognized him. But you didn’t recognize him from Rick’s group either. The man rubbed the back of his neck with his hand while looking down at his shoes, he seemed a bit shy. “Are you from Rick’s group? I haven't seen you around…” He hesitantly made eye contact with you and nodded. “Yea.”

He had a certain aura to him that left you needing to know more. He was handsome, in a rugged way. Not usually the type of guy that you would have gone for in the old world, but you couldn't help admiring this man. He had a sharp jawline, long dark brown locks, and the most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen. His sleeveless jacket showed off his tanned arms that were muscular, but not in an overwhelming way. You never liked guys that were too muscular. And not to mention his accent, god the few words you heard from his thick southern drawl began to make your head buzz.

You were about to ask him his name when you heard Aaron from the end of the bar, “Hey man! You get lost?” Both you and the stranger looked over to Aaron, and he gestured for the man to come over. Aaron noticed you and said, “Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?” You smiled at him, “No not at all!”

The stranger turned and gave you a small smile and a nod before walking over to Aaron. As he walked away, you were brushed by his scent. Pine, smoke, and sweat lingered in a cloud around you for a few seconds before it finally dissipated. You watched him walking away for a moment before your senses returned to you and you realized you never got his name.

“Wait, what's your-” He was too far away to hear you at this point. You were left in a daze, craving in the absence of his scent. You were broken from your trance when you saw Rosita walk up to the bar from the corner of your eye. Without letting him leave your sight, you tapped Rosita on the shoulder and whispered, “Hey, who’s the cute boy with the black jacket and the thick accent?” The man was out of your line of sight now, and you turned to see a confused Rosita. “Huh?” You pointed in the direction of where you last saw him, “The cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad,” you held up your arms and flexed to imply his muscular ones.

Rosita looked at you now with a dumbfounded look, she laughed a bit before saying, “ You mean, Daryl?” Suddenly, you felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe he had a girlfriend or something... “I don’t know, I guess…” You said cautiously. She laughed again, “It’s nothing… he’s just… Daryl?” She looked at you and shrugged. You leaned in close and whisper-yelled “What is that supposed to mean?” She turned her attention to her drink and said nonchalantly, “I don’t know, he’s just… a little reserved. ‘Rough around the edges’ maybe?” It felt like there was something she wasn’t telling you.

“If he’s unavailable or whatever you can just tell me” Rosita looked back at you. “Honestly girl, I don't think that man is interested in like…anything.” She said, shrugging again and taking a sip of her drink. “Huh. Okay then.” Feeling a bit defeated, you took a few sips of your own drink while you and Rosita made light conversation. The rest of the night you caught yourself discreetly scanning the room, in search of Daryl.

A few days later, you were sitting on your porch, waiting for Maggie to come over after she got off her watch shift. The sun was setting, painting the houses in warm orange hues. You swayed back and forth in the rocking chair while nursing the cigarette you held between your fingers. In the distance, you could see a figure walking in your direction. As it got closer, you recognized it. It was him. You tried to work up the courage to say something, to just shout out ‘hello’ at the least, but your heart was racing and you couldn't find the courage.

When he reached the front of your house, he glanced over at you. “Hey.” He said with a small wave as he continued walking. “Hey.” You responded in a shaky voice. Before he got any further away, you took one last drag and stood up. Walking to the edge of the railing, you leaned over it and shouted, “Wait!” He slowed his pace and turned around, taking a few small steps toward you. He remained silent as he stared at you expectantly. “You uh- you never told me your name.”

He looked around briefly, almost like he couldn't believe you were talking to him. “Daryl.” Of course, you already knew that. But it was nice just to hear his voice, even if it was just for the duration of one single word. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a cheesy grin. “Well, it was nice meeting you the other night, Daryl.”

He chuckled to himself, “You too.” You might be wrong, but you could have sworn you saw his lip twitch up in the slightest. “I’m (Y/N).” You were sure you sounded a bit goofy, but the scene you found yourself in felt like something out of a movie. The burning sky set his skin aglow, softening his rough edges. Certainly, this wasn’t the Daryl Rosita was talking about?

He quietly repeated your name to himself, “(Y/N).” like he was testing the feel of it in his mouth. The way your name sounded in his drawl had you feeling out of breath. Am I really that easy? Is all it takes just for him to say my name to get me going? You felt like you were in middle school again, staring at your crush from across the lunch room, swooning over the way he opened a water bottle. Except this time, you were being acknowledged, the way he looked at you made you feel like he really saw you.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, it felt comfortable, like a warm blanket. Until you heard your name being called out in the other direction. “Hey! We still on for tonight?” You looked to your left to see Maggie approaching you, wine bottle in hand. “Yeah yeah, I was just having a smoke while I waited for you, I-” You turned back to look at Daryl, but he had already turned around and started walking away. “I just uh- You ready?” You stuttered to her, hoping she hadn’t picked up how caught off guard you were.

“Alright, spill.” You looked up from your seat on the couch to find Maggie handing you a glass as she sat down on the other end. “What?” You blurted out. She rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her wine. “Don’t be silly, (Y/N). I saw you talking to Daryl as I was walking up.” You played it off as casually as you could. “Oh, that was nothing we just-he just- we uh met the other night. At the party.” She gave you a look that told you she wasn’t fully convinced yet. “And…?” This time, you took a big sip of your glass before continuing.

“When I was getting a drink, I almost tripped and he caught me.” You looked down into your glass, swirling the blood-red liquid as if you hoped words would appear and tell you what to say. “I never got his name so…” You took another sip. “When I saw him walking by this afternoon, I stopped him and asked him.” Maggie nodded, looking off to the side in thought. “It was just…kinda weird I guess.” You felt your heart rate pick up again. “Weird, how?” You took another sip and you could feel yourself getting the slightest bit dizzy.

“Well, the way he looked at you…I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before.” You reached over to the coffee table in front of you and refilled your glass, offering the bottle to Maggie after you did so. She took it from you and topped off her own glass. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” She finally looked back at you and you saw the wide smirk on her face. “Oh, it’s definitely a good thing.” The two of you burst out laughing and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your cheeks.

3 glasses in you found yourself oversharing with Maggie. Your skin felt hot, your head light, and your cheeks warm with a tinge of pink. The two of you spilled details from past relationships and regrettable one-night stands. It wasn’t long until the conversation circled back to Daryl. “You should really talk to him.” You hid your face behind your hands, your glass long forgotten on the coffee table. “What if he thinks I’m being too forward!” You laughed at Maggie, “I wouldn’t even know what to say!”

Maggie stood up from the couch, sticking her hands out beside her to help keep balance. “You go like this,” She stumbled to you and leaned over, putting one hand on your shoulder. “Cum right on me. I mean-Camaraderie!” Maggie fell to her knees in front of you laughing harder than you had ever seen her do before. You too, could not stop the laughing fit that ensued. Leaning over with a hand on your stomach, as tears left your eyes from the force of the giggles.

You looked down at her, feigning doe eyes and now placing your hand on her shoulder. In your sweetest voice, you said, “Where are thou? Why not uponeth me?” It felt like you two laughed for hours.

After the initial high from the wine started to cool off, the two of you lounged on the couch, knees bent and facing each other. You were trying to come up with serious ways to try and get Daryl’s attention. “Don’t tell Glenn I said this, but I always thought Daryl was kinda handsome.” She tried to hide her small grin with her hand. “See! You get it!” She nodded in response. You looked at her and in a more serious tone you told her, “I bet we’d have really good bed chem.” She hummed in agreement. You started to slightly daze off as you imagined it.

“I just want him to pick me up, pull ‘em down, and turn me around” Maggie tried to bite back her chuckle. “What?” You turned back to her grinning. She narrowed her eyes and said, “I bet he talks real sweet while he’s doing bad things.” Just the thought of it had you out of breath. You groaned in frustration. Putting your head in your hands and shaking it while laughing you muttered, “I'm just manifesting that he’s oversized.” She laughed, “Honey, I don’t think you need to manifest that.” You looked over at her and groaned again, “Maggie, I think I’m obsessed.”

The next few days you were in your head about what to do. You couldn’t find the right time or place to talk to Daryl, but you knew you needed to. Every waking moment was filled with thoughts of him and it was starting to physically affect you. The most frustrating part was that you knew it would be even better than in your head. But just the fragment that you could imagine, based on how little you knew him, was better than any of your wildest fantasies.

You had decided you were going to try and talk to him today. He had been going back and forth to Hilltop for various reasons, and his absence had given you the courage to approach him before he left again today. At least if things don’t go well, I won't have to see him for a few days. You checked yourself in the mirror one more time before leaving your house.

Just as you were about to open the door, you heard a knock. You waited a few seconds so that whoever was on the other side didn’t think you had rushed to the door. Putting your hand on the cool knob you slowly turned it. The old door creaked as it swung open, and you were met with a sight you couldn’t believe was real.

Daryl stood at your doorstep, eyes locked on his shoes and hand on the back of his neck. “Oh, Hi Daryl.” You tried to contain the giddiness that was coursing through your body. “Hey uh- you free for a sec?” He slowly looked up at you and dropped his hand. “Yeah, what's up?” He looked around nervously. “I haven’t been in Alexandria a lot lately, but I wanna be.” You were stunned at this statement, what did he mean by that? “When I’m back next time, uh- was gonna see if ya wanted to um- go huntin’ together or somethin’.”

You had to shift your weight to the side of your body that was still holding onto the door handle, otherwise your knees would have fully given out. You couldn’t hide the wide grin that spread across your face. “Yeah, I would like that.” He looked up at you and gave you the smallest smile. “Are you free next week?” His smile grew wider as he said, “I am.”

Although not many words left his mouth, his eyes spoke clearly. You picked up a hint of lust, mixed with excitement and anxiety. You knew what that look meant. “I’ll see you next week then.” You spoke softly, slightly leaning your head against the door. “Yeah.” He gave you a small nod before shoving his hands in his front pockets and walking off your porch. Before he left earshot you called out, “Have a safe trip!” He looked back at you and smiled just a bit wider, before giving you a wave and walking toward the gate.

OKAY LET ME KNOW WHAT Y'ALL THOUGHT !!!!

also I feel like it's kinda maybe necessary to do a part 2 to Juno ???? lmk....

#daryl dixon #daryl posting #twd daryl #daryl #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon one shot #Spotify

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 5 months ago

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Words: 12,907 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language, domestic violence and abusive relationship (reader and her partner—some description of minor injuries, threats, intimidation, verbal abuse, coercion, control), descriptions of injuries after infliction, violence, angsssst, happy ending

You glanced back over your shoulder. Daryl copied the action the next moment, checking to see how close the ragged looking group of walkers behind the two of you were. “We should probably take care of them before we get a real herd going,” you said, stepping over some brush. You loosened your knife in the sheath at your hip.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “Prob’ly.” He started to raise his bow to his shoulder and revolved in place.

You fully withdrew your knife. You turned back too now, shoulder to shoulder with him. “Do you want the group in the front or in the back?” you asked, shaking your hair out of your eyes.

Daryl firmly planted the grip of his bow into his shoulder and fired at the walker in the lead. The bolt swooshed through the air and landed with a satisfying thunk in the head of the walker in the lead, just below the left eye. “I’ll take the front,” Daryl drawled.

You gave him an appreciative smile and nodded. “I thought you would.” You peeled off from him and quickly flanked the five or six walkers left in the front, ignoring their attention and slight changes of direction as they reached for you. You heard Daryl’s bolts hitting their marks and focused instead on the group at the back. You readied your knife in your hand, but stooped to pick up a large rock sitting on the soil surface. You threw it and struck the closest walker in the side of the head, and even throwing with your non-dominant hand, it was enough to drop it. Then you went to work with your knife, quickly dealing with all but one particularly large one.

You glanced toward Daryl and saw that he had set his bow down and pulled his own knife from its sheath. You returned your attention to the hulking mass of rotting flesh slowly limping toward you. “Ugh,” you groaned. “Got a ripe one over here!” you called out.

“Yeah, well, I got my own problems,” he shouted back. Daryl was staring at the last walker which appeared more like a bipedal tumbleweed. The entire upper body and head was entangled in layers of blackberry brambles. Daryl was backing up as it advanced as he tried to figure out exactly how to take it down.

He took another step back and that’s when it happened… Something tightened around his ankle and his foot was pulled out from under him. His back hit the ground hard, forcing the breath from his lungs, and suddenly he was dangling upside down with the walker grappling toward him. His knife, dislodged from his hand by the fall, was shining on the leaf litter out of reach.

“Daryl!” you screamed, seeing him hauled up in a rush of movement and dangling from a snare. “Shit!”

That brief moment looking away from the lumbering walker in front of you was enough for it to nearly reach you. When you looked back, all you could do was throw your hands up in an attempt to push it back, but the rotting skin slipped off and your fingers squelched into the decomposing flesh. With a gag of disgust, you jumped backwards and steadied yourself, glancing frantically at Daryl again. He was grappling with the brambly mass in front of him, dangling in front of it like a worm on a hook. “Hold on!” you screamed, returning your attention to your own adversary. You wound up and kicked it as hard as you could in the stomach. The heel of your boot sunk in but the rest of the sole connected with the sternum and the walker did tumble back and fall to the ground. You rushed it and plunged your knife into its head with a grunt of effort before frantically stumbling to your feet and racing to help Daryl.

He was now straining to keep the bramble-wrapped walker away from his head and neck. You vaulted over the still corpses on the ground and raced toward him. Without a thought, you seized the tangled mess of briars in both hands and whirled it away from him, throwing it to the ground. You slammed your boot down on the body, as close to the neck as you could, and then thrust your knife through the woody tangle and down into the skull. It twitched and fell still.

The quiet seemed somehow overwhelming now as you straightened, glancing at the gore on your hands and boots. You pulled a scrap of fabric out of your back pocket and wiped off your hands. Your chest was heaving and you tried to catch your breath as you turned back to Daryl, still hanging upside down, his face bright red and his wavy hair dangling down.

“A little help?” he growled.

You stomped over, exhausted from the fight, and leaned in close to him. “Please, tell me you’re clean,” you said, searching for any bites or scratches on the parts of him you could see. You actually clasped his face between your hands while he was hanging there and turned it side to side to check.

“Nah, ‘m good. Just a little banged up. Now, would ya get me down from this damn snare before I pass the fuck out?”

You straightened up again, relieved now that the danger had passed, and laughed at the sight of him. “You should see yourself right now,” you said, grinning.

“For fuck’s sake, would ya get me down?” he growled again.

“Down? No problem,” you said, spinning your knife in your hand.

“Wait—Dun—” He dropped with a thud onto his back as you cut the rope and the air left his lungs for the second time. Your pleased laughter was a soundtrack he’d accept despite the betrayal.

You dropped down to the dirt beside him, your chest still heaving with exertion. But you were smiling and then laughing still as he looked over at you and let out a small pained noise accompanied by an unamused look. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You’re really alright though?” you asked, shuffling your boots in the litter and soil in an attempt to clean the gore off them. Daryl stared up at the canopy overhead from the flat of his back. The tree branches looked like dark fingers reaching toward the sky, silhouetted in the afternoon light. He didn’t respond so you leaned in over him. “Hmm?” you prodded him again. “You’re good?”

Your face appeared above his and you brushed some dirt from his cheek with a clean corner of the cloth from your pocket. And for the third time his breath left his lungs, but this time was much different. His eyes flickered between yours, studying their flecks of color and the ring around your pupil. Your hair hung forward, framing your face. His stomach somersaulted. “‘M good,” he finally managed. “Thanks for the save, by the way.”

“Of course,” you said, leaning back on your palms so he could sit up unobstructed.

“Ya alrigh’?” he drawled, glancing back over at you. He loosened and undid the snare around his ankle, discarding it.

“Me? All good.” But you held your palms out toward him and wiggled your fingers and he could see that your hands were actually quite cut up. “Just a bit scratched. From the blackberry briars he was tangled in.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “Mmm,” he hummed, reaching for his pack a short distance away. He dug inside until he found the little bag of first aid supplies that he kept stashed in the bottom. “We oughta clean those up. ‘Specially since ya were wrist deep in that slimey one just before.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, your nose wrinkling with disgust. “Don’t remind me.”

Daryl pulled out some alcohol pads and hastily tore open the packaging. “C’mon. Lemme see.”

You held your hands out, resting them palms up on your knees. Daryl gulped nervously (hoping you didn’t notice) and took each one in his in turn, rubbing the alcohol pads over your palms and fingers. You couldn’t be sure if the goosebumps rising on your skin were from his steady, gentle touch or the chill left behind as the disinfectant evaporated. You tried hard to reason it away. “Thanks,” you whispered as he finished. He only nodded.

“Getting caught in your own snare. That’s a new one,” you commented, smiling at him again.

He scoffed. “That ain’t one’a mine,” he said, grabbing the discarded line and holding it up. “Wasn’t set to catch small game neither. Somebody prob’ly put it up for the dead.”

You laughed lightly again. “They would have had a hell of a surprise if they were around to see their catch.”

“Mm,” he hummed, tossing it aside again. “Looks old. Surprised it still worked.”

You climbed to your feet, dusting off your pants. “We should probably get back. It’ll be getting dark soon.” You offered him your hand to pull him to his feet, but he didn’t take it and shot you a look.

“Yer all cut up,” he scolded you. “The hell ya thinkin’?”

You glanced at your hand again and shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Daryl shouldered his bow and bag, collected his spent bolts, and nodded. “Let’s head back to my bike. I think we’ve done enough for today.”

“Two rabbits and a few squirrels,” you said, stepping into stride behind him. “It’s hardly enough to feed even two families.” He could hear the disappointment in your voice.

He glanced over at you and gave you a small smile. “S’enough to feed a few, which is better than nothin’.”

You sighed. “I know. I was just hoping for a deer. Something substantial,” you sighed.

“I know,” Daryl said, glancing over at you. “Maybe next time, yeah?”

You walked in silence for a few minutes, heading back toward Daryl’s motorcycle. When you reached it, he strapped down his bow and pack and climbed on. He seized the helmet sitting on the back before you could and handed it to you, giving you a pointed look. “I still can’t get over that you make me wear a helmet and you don’t wear one,” you said, buckling the chin strap. He hummed some kind of non-committal response and you shook your head at him. He leaned forward and you slipped in behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle securely. You tried to ignore the heat that suddenly pooled in the middle of your chest and spilled outwards. How many times had you ridden on Daryl’s bike at this point? And yet every time—without fail—you felt yourself blushing as soon as you settled down behind him.

He cleared his throat and turned slightly to the side so you could hear him better. You leaned forward to listen, pressing your body against his, and despite the layers and layers of clothing between the two of you he felt like his skin was on fire. “Ready?” he drawled.

“Ready,” you said. Your cheek pressed into the back of his shoulder for just a moment as you adjusted your grip. “Go fast,” you sighed, and he could hear the smile in your voice.

He let out a low, gravelly laugh that you adored. “You got it, boss,” he said, and he fired the motorcycle to life.

The ride home flew by as you bathed in the wind and the exhilaration of flying down the road, and your arms around Daryl didn’t hurt either, though you tried hard not to acknowledge that to yourself... Soon, the gate was visible in the distance and Daryl slowed and weaved his way through the defensive roadblocks and around the crumbling potholes in the asphalt. Suddenly, he felt you stiffen behind him as he rolled up to the gate.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck…” he heard you murmur behind him.

He slowed to a stop at the gate. “What’s the matter?” he asked over the idling engine.

Your hand departed from his side and landed on his arm. “Look to the right,” you said, your voice thin. “That’s—that’s the truck they took on the run. Something must have happened. They weren’t supposed to be back for three more days,” you said. Your heart was hammering and you felt like you couldn’t get enough air. Daryl thought he could feel a slight shake in your fingers as they left his arm. “I need to get home. He’s going to be pissed,” you breathed. “Shit.”

Daryl felt his own body stiffening now too. His knuckles went white on the handlebar grips. The gate rolled back to admit the two of you and Daryl drove the bike inside. The rattle was loud and clanged in your head as it shut behind you.

“Stop here. Please,” you said urgently, almost as soon as the motorcycle had cleared the path of the gate. Your eyes darted around inside, expecting to see him standing somewhere watching for you.

“What? Ya said ya need to get home?” Daryl drawled, but you were already climbing off his bike, nearly falling as you hurried and the toe of your boot caught on the seat. Daryl flipped out the kickstand and climbed off too, watching you trying to undo the chin strap of your helmet, but your fingers were shaking. “Y/N—I can take ya right to yer house.” He moved around the bike and stopped in front of you, taking over undoing the strap on the helmet for you. You stood with your chin tilted up, and he could see the worry in your eyes. You looked nearly frantic.

“Thank you,” you murmured after he final got it undone, pulling the helmet from your head and shaking your hair out. “Me pulling up behind you on your motorcycle is not going to help the situation,” you said, holding the helmet out to him.

“Listen, if ya think he’s gonna give ya a hard time, maybe I should come with ya and—”

Your eyes were fearful and you shook your head. “No, Daryl—I appreciate it but that wouldn’t… I mean, he—I don’t think that would help either. I—I think it might make it worse. I’m sorry. I just—I have to go,” you said, already walking backwards away from him, your hands gripping the straps of your pack with white knuckles. “I’ll see you later, okay? Make sure Carl and Judith get fed with that game, alright?”

“Yeah. See ya,” he drawled, watching you turn and hurriedly jog down the sidewalk until he couldn’t see you anymore in the growing dusk. There was a hard pit in the bottom of his stomach, like he had swallowed stones. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself. He turned and strapped the helmet down on the back of his bike and climbed on again, riding it back to Aaron’s garage and quickly parking it. He pulled the game stringer and his gear off his bike and threw the tarp over it. His stomach was churning as he made the walk home alone.

The house was quiet with only a few lights on upstairs, but he found Carol seemingly waiting for him on the porch. She gave him a smile as he came up the steps. “Hi,” she greeted him. “How was it? Have a good day?”

He set the game down, slinging it over the porch railing. He nodded thoughtfully. “Alrigh’,” he said a little dully. “‘Til we got back.” He dug around in his pocket for a cigarette before he remembered that you’d stolen the pack earlier in the day and threw it out, telling him he needed to quit or you’d be burying him in an early grave. His teeth worried his bottom lip.

“What do you mean?” Carol asked, her bright tone diminished.

“We got back and saw that the truck they’d taken on the run was parked outside the gate. When she realized he’d be back and see that she wasn’t at home—” Daryl’s teeth ground together and the muscle in his jaw clenched. “She—she seemed scared. I mean, she was shakin’. She wouldn’t even lemme drive her back to her house and drop her off. Said it wouldn’t help the situation.”

Carol’s face was dark now, her mouth drawn in a thin line with the corners tugging down. “No. No, I don’t think that would have helped... Rosita and Glenn said the main bridge washed out. They couldn’t get to the community college. They came back until they can figure out a new route.”

Daryl leaned back against the railing and nodded. He gulped and shook his head, staring down at his boots and absently picking at a loose stitch on the sheath of his knife. “He’s such a fuckin’ asshole,” he growled, shaking his head. “I dun understand why she stays with that prick…”

Carol sighed and nodded. “They were together before everything fell apart. I think that’s part of it.”

“He treats her like shit,” Daryl spat. He nestled the side of his thumbnail in between his teeth and bit down until he tasted the earthy tang of copper.

Carol’s expression was pensive. “Daryl—I think—I think it’s worse than that,” she said softly. Daryl’s head snapped up as he hurriedly looked at her, his eyes locking with hers.

“What d’ya mean?” he growled. He had his own suspicions.

She didn’t say anything but held his gaze steadily.

Daryl’s hands clenched and unclenched in a fist. “Ya think he’s puttin’ his hands on her?”

“I really don’t know. Not for sure. He’s certainly abusive to her… emotionally, mentally. He’s a controlling prick. But—I still don’t know anything for certain. I’ve tried to find out, to pay attention but I’ve never seen anything to prove it.” She shook her head. “I have seen bruises on her. She always has a story. And in this world it isn’t exactly unexpected to be bruised up, right?”

“Bruises where?” Daryl growled, his eyes narrowed and piercing.

“Her shoulders. Her arms and wrists. Once, on her neck,” Carol said. “That’s just what I’ve been able to see from time to time. But she’s always had an excuse.”

“And yer just tellin’ me this now?” Daryl growled, fuming at the mere thought of how that asshole could have put those marks on you. “How long has this been?”

“I’ve had suspicions since—since the quarry,” she admitted. Daryl swore and paced a big circle around the porch before his eyes landed on her again.

“Ya shoulda fuckin’ said something!” he barked at her. “Does Rick know? Does anybody else know?” he demanded.

“Daryl, I don’t know anything,” she said gently. Carol did look guilty, but she remembered what it was like back with Ed… The cycle of abuse was like a narcotic you were unwillingly being dosed with and she had always tried to hide it too. “There have been lots of times where he most likely couldn’t have been physically hurting her because he would have been caught. When things have been close quarters, you know? At the quarry… on the road.” “Most likely,” Daryl repeated, nodding at her. “Most likely? And is that s’posed to make it better?”

“No. No… not at all,” she sighed. “We’ve all heard them arguing, heard how he talks to her, seen how toxic that relationship is.”

Daryl’s blue eyes seemed to blaze with some inner fire as he listened to Carol. “If he’s layin’ so much as a fuckin’ finger on her and I find out, I’mma fuckin’ kill him. I’m gonna drag him outta that house and beat him into the fuckin’ ground with my bare hands,” he growled. “I dun even care what happens to me. He's done."

Carol nodded. “I know. I know you would. And that’s part of the reason why I haven’t said anything before. But I also don’t know anything for certain.”

“Have ya asked her?”

Carol nodded. “I’ve tried, a few times, in a few different ways but—any hint of me trying to talk to her about that relationship and she may as well be running the other way. I mean, no one could have convinced me to leave Ed back then... The fear keeps you trapped there. Leaving doesn’t even feel like an option because it’s so unsafe. If he beats the shit out of you for not being home when he thinks you should be, what would he do if you tried to leave?”

“But she’s got people. She’s got—she’s us. She’s got me.” Daryl sighed and his shoulders slumped, some of the rage dissipating into a helplessness. “What do we do?” He ran his hand over his mouth and chin and straightened up. “What if he’s—what if somethin’ bad is happenin’ to her righ’ now? I told ya she was scared.” He straightened up. “I’mma go over there,” he said, determined. “I gotta check on her.”

Carol sighed. “Daryl, I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Why? Somebody should protect her!”

“It’s not that simple. Haven’t you noticed how he gets around you? He’s threatened by you, intimidated. Jealous. It makes it worse. Unless you’re prepared to break in the door and have this all out right now—”

“Well, maybe I am,” Daryl growled.

Carol shrugged. “That’s up to you. But if they are just arguing, if he’s not physically hurting her right now, you showing up there and reminding him who she was with all day could put her in even more danger.”

Daryl paced anxiously on the porch, rubbing his hand over his face thoughtfully. “Fuck,” he growled. “She dun deserve to be with that asshole. Her of all people… She—she deserves somethin’… better. She dun deserve that.”

Carol smiled at the softness on his face as he talked about you. “No. Neither did you. Neither did I. But life isn’t fair.”

Daryl froze and his eyes shut. His breath became shaky. When he spoke again, his voice broke. “Why? Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked, looking up at Carol. His expression was desperate.

“Did you tell anyone?” she asked him and she already knew the answer.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The house was dark as you crossed the porch and made your way to the front door, but you knew better than to think he was asleep. You drew in a shaky breath and your fingertips were trembling as you reached for the doorknob. It turned and you pushed in, trying to steel yourself for whatever was to come.

You’d barely made it inside onto the rug in the entryway when he kicked the door shut, forcing it out of your hand. You couldn’t help the gasp that left you. He locked it behind you and pointedly put on the security chain. You were sandwiched between him and a sealed exit and you could read his rage in the blackness of his eyes.

You still had your pack on you but he wrenched it off you, twisting one of your arms painfully when it caught in the strap. He threw it carelessly and it slid a good distance down the hallway. Before you could do anything, you were aware of his hand withdrawing your knife from its sheath at your hip. Your breath seemed to catch and crystallize painfully in your lungs as he turned the steel blade and it glinted in the low light.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he growled, holding the point of the knife mere inches from the center of your breastbone. You had to regulate your breathing so it was shallower or you swore the tip would pierce into your skin. “I get back and the house is empty.” He wasn’t yelling at you, not yet, but this quiet tone felt maybe even more dangerous.

“I was just—out hunting,” you stammered, pressing yourself back into the wood of the door behind you, trying to gain a millimeter of space.

He kept the knife tickling at the cotton of your shirt and grabbed a fistful of your hair with the other hand, cruelly yanking your head back and down so your chin lifted and your neck was exposed. You felt some strands give way in his grip and tried not to cry out, but a whimper escaped your lips. “Then where’s the game? Huh? I don’t see a fucking rabbit or squirrel. Nothing.”

You could barely speak. “N—no luck,” you said.

He laughed a dry, perilous sounding laugh. “No surprise there. You are fucking useless,” he spat. “Who were you with?”

You stayed silent, your mind whirring. “No one. I went by myself, I swear.” You did your best to keep your voice steady.

You saw the knife glint again out of the corner of your eye and then felt the cool edge of the blade alight on your neck, just enough so he knew you could feel it. “You lying fucking whore. You think I didn’t ask around as soon as I realized you weren’t here? I leave for not even one day and you run off into the woods with that fucking redneck!” You could feel the heat of his breath and his spit landing on your skin. “Huh?!” he roared. “Answer me, bitch!”

You squeezed your eyes shut as he yelled into your ear, leaving behind a high-pitched ringing. Your whole body was shaking now. “I’m sorry,” you managed in a desperate, hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry. We were just hunting, I swear. We were just hunting! I would never—” Tears burned in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“What have I told you about him ? Huh?! We both know I can’t trust you to keep your fucking legs closed. I can’t believe this shit,” he growled. “I’m gone half a day—"

“I’m sorry,” you breathed.

He backed off, just slightly, but you could see the sneer on his face, the rage still burning in his eyes. “No, you’re not. Yet. But you’re gonna be. You wanna run around with other men like a slut? I guess I have to teach you another fucking lesson and remind you who the hell you belong to. You’re mine! You go where I say, when I say! You talk only to who I fucking say you can talk to! And you stay the fuck away from that redneck trash or I swear to God, I’ll kill him. I’ve warned you before. I’ll slit his throat in his sleep. You so much as look in his direction again, and I’ll fucking kill him. And then I might just decide I’m done with you too…” He seized you by the throat and threw you to the ground, hard. You fell to the floor on your hands and knees, bashing your kneecaps and knowing they’d be bruised the next day. Pain shot up your wrists too, but you didn’t have a moment to even catch your breath, to even try to think of a way to escape or defuse the situation. “Get up. Get the fuck up! Get upstairs and keep your mouth shut!” He grabbed you by the hair and half-dragged you to your feet before shoving you toward the staircase.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl cleaned the game on the front porch and then spent the whole night awake, pacing. A few times he started to make his way toward your house, but stopped halfway as Carol’s voice rang in his mind. “You showing up there and reminding him who she was with all day could put her in even more danger.” He’d turned around and come back home, only to resume his restless, aimless waiting. He kept reaching for his pack of cigarettes absently and then remembering the way you’d leaned in and pulled them out of his shirt pocket. The touch of your fingers separated by just a thin veil of cotton had raised goosebumps and electricity up his back.

The internal conflict warring inside him was threatening to make him sick. He found himself nearly breaking the porch railing he was gripping onto it so hard. It was the wee hours of the morning when he finally surrendered, swore under his breath, and went down to his room to collapse into bed. He stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.

He waited until the house above was noisy with footsteps and sound clanging in the kitchen before, he peeled himself off the mattress and went up. Carol was in the kitchen when he stepped out and she immediately dried her hands hurriedly and nodded toward the hallway. Daryl followed her lead and walked out onto the front porch. The grass still had dewdrops clinging to it and Alexandria was still waking up.

“You look like shit,” Carol said in an undertone to him as he settled back against the railing.

He scoffed. “Thanks. Wonder why,” he snapped back. “What?”

She sighed. “Don’t be mad—”

His brow furrowed and cast his eyes in shadow. “Carol—”

“But I went to their house last night,” she said.

Daryl’s eyes snapped up to hers. “The hell ya mean? After what ya told me ‘bout makin’ it worse?” he growled.

“It’s not like I waltzed up to the door and rang the bell,” she retorted, giving him a stern look. “I watched the house from across the street. I wasn’t seen. And even if I had been, I’m not you. But I wanted to be there just in case…”

“Just in case? In case of what? What the fuck good is that gonna do if he’s beatin’ the shit outta her behind closed doors?” Daryl growled. He rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated and infuriated. “Well?” he pressed her.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I thought maybe I could hear yelling at one point but the house was completely dark, locked up. Shades all down. Nothing. It’s hard to say.”

“Why the fuck are ya even tellin’ me this then?” Daryl barked.

“I’m trying to help,” she snapped back. “Listen, Deanna has called a town meeting tonight to make some announcements or something. Everyone is going to be there. If she’s not, well, then we’ll have to do something… go over there. I don’t know.”

Daryl sighed. “If she’s not, I’m gonna break the door in. And then I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Everyone was gathered around several blazing firepits, chatting, laughing, drinks in hand. The mood was convivial, unless you were Daryl. He had posted himself out on the edge of the group where he could watch everyone come and go and so far, he’d been left alone. That was until Carol spotted him. She came over after waving at a few of the ladies she baked casseroles with and having a very animated conversation about fruit cake made with expired canned peaches.

She slid up beside him, a wide and annoying smile still plastered on her face. “You look like a gargoyle over here, Daryl,” she scolded him from the corner of her mouth.

He only continued to sweep his eyes over the crowd. “Ya think I give a shit?” he growled back.

“Well, if you’re trying to draw attention to yourself, you’re doing a great job by scowling at everyone,” she said, stopping to return a wave from Olivia from across the party.

Daryl bristled. “ ‘M sorry, but one of us is a little fuckin’ worried righ’ now,” he snapped. “I ain’t exactly in the mood to have a chat with some suburbanite about fucking peaches.”

Carol took a sip of her drink. “I’m gonna let that slide considering the circumstances, but you know perfectly well that everything I’m doing here, including chatting about peaches, is for our family.”

Daryl sighed and softened a little. “…’M sorry. S’just—”

“I know,” she interrupted him, softening now herself. The worry crept onto her face now too. “No sign of her yet?”

Daryl shook his head. “No. Or him.”

Carol checked her watch. “There’s still time.”

Each minute felt like an hour, a tortuous, slow hour. Daryl’s eyes continually swept over the crowd, checking every figure, every gap for your silhouette, and finally, when he was nearly frantic with worry, he straightened up. “Hey—” he said, nudging Carol. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. At that distance, across the party, he couldn’t tell if you were hurt. All he could really see was that your boyfriend had his arm wrapped around your back and his hand was resting on your hip. Was his grip a little too tight? Was he holding you too close, like he was asserting control over you? Or was Daryl imagining that?

Carol saw you walking in at your boyfriend’s side. Glenn and Maggie stopped the two of you and you hugged her briefly and chatted for a moment, laughing at something she said, before the two of you moved away. Carol breathed a small sigh of relief at the sight of you. “Okay,” she murmured. “She’s here…”

“Yeah,” Daryl drawled, squinting at you. Every time a shadow shifted across your face, he imagined that it was a bruise.

“At least we can see her and she’s—she’s mostly alright,” Carol said.

“Is she?” Daryl growled back, feeling another upwelling of toxic rage. He watched you follow along beside your boyfriend until you both sat down in one of the rows of chairs facing the small, makeshift podium where Deanna would speak. Your boyfriend’s hand landed on the back of the neck and he leaned in to whisper something to you and Daryl’s hands clenched into fists. It could have been just a normal touch between a couple, but to him it looked possessive and he felt another burst of hot anger in his chest. Daryl discarded his empty bottle on a table beside him and watched as you got up and made your way over to the refreshment table while your boyfriend made himself comfortable. Daryl nervously licked his lips and Carol followed his gaze.

“‘M gonna go check on her,” he drawled.

“Be careful,” she warned him. “Daryl—He’s right there.”

“I can fuckin’ handle him if I need to,” Daryl replied and then he stepped into the crowd and made his way through.

You were reading the handwritten label on a beer bottle when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and turned to see Daryl standing there. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you breathed with a nervous laugh. “You startled me.” You quickly glanced over your shoulder to see if your boyfriend was watching you. “Just—grabbing some drinks,” you said.

But Daryl was staring at you intensely and his expression was drawn and anxious. “Are ya okay?”

You swallowed at the thick lump in your throat that had just materialized. “Fine!” you said brightly, but you couldn’t look him in the eye. “I should get back—"

“Y/N—” His hand landed on your arm and your body arrested all movement without you consciously deciding to stop. His brow was furrowed heavily, his blue eyes flickering over you. “Really. Are ya okay? What—”

He heard your breath shake as you exhaled. “Daryl, I can’t. Not here. Not now… I can’t talk to you,” you said in a low voice. You glanced over your shoulder again to see that your boyfriend was (thankfully) in conversation with Deanna’s husband Reg and clearly hadn’t noticed Daryl standing with you.

His stomach sunk. “What d’ya mean ya can’t talk to me?” Your eyes snapped back to his face, to the concern, to the unease.

You looked back once more. He was a mere ten feet away, waiting. You couldn’t be seen talking to Daryl. You couldn’t. His threats rang in your mind like alarm bells. “I—I just can’t. I’m sorry. I have to go.” You withdrew from him abruptly and returned to your seat, handing your partner the beer bottle and sitting stiffly beside him. Daryl was left with that same sick feeling in his gut…

It wasn’t long before Deanna went to the podium to the sounds of applause and happy jeering. Daryl posted himself to the side of the group, almost at the exact end of the row you were seated in. You did your best to stare forward, but you didn’t hear a word out of Deanna’s mouth. All that seemed to be in your head was a rising hum and your own heartbeat. You found your eyes repeatedly drawn sideways to look at the broad-shouldered archer but would quickly catch yourself and face the front again.

For his part, Daryl looked on, fuming. Your body was rigid and far from at ease. When he watched your boyfriend reach over and place his hand on your thigh, he’d had enough and he made a hasty exit.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Carol came bounding up the steps onto the porch to find Daryl leaning back against the railing and sharpening his knife, just for something to do, something to keep his hands busy. The methodical, rhythmic movements felt at least a little calming. But Carol’s expression was dark and any calm he had achieved evaporated quickly. He gave her a questioning look. “S’goin’ on? Party all wrapped up?”

“Yeah. And I had to stop by to check on the Thompsons, that elderly couple? Their house is right across from the clinic,” she explained. “Daryl—when I was leaving, I caught a glimpse of Denise answering the door and letting Y/N inside.”

Daryl felt like his blood had run cold. He straightened up, discarded his whetstone quickly, and snapped his knife back into the sheath on his hip with a sharp sound. Carol eyed it uneasily. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she warned him.

“If I did, we both know it’d be because that fucker deserves it. But for now—I’mma just see if I can talk to her. Ya didn’t see him there ?”

Carol scoffed and rolled her eyes. “He and Pete both left the bonfire drunk.”

Daryl shook his head. “Birds of a feather,” Daryl drawled. He started down the steps. “I’ll be back later. Probably.”

Carol watched him until his broad-shouldered silhouette blended into the darkness.

There weren’t any lights on in the front of the building when Daryl reached the clinic, but he could see a faint glow from the back hallway when he pulled open the door and stepped inside. Muffled voices drifted out from the same direction as the light and Daryl made his way toward them. He recognized both you and Denise talking in low voices.

When he rounded the corner and stepped into the hallway, he saw that the first room was the source of all the light and sound and the door was standing wide open.

For a moment, his brain didn’t seem to grasp exactly what he was looking at, only really that he shouldn’t be seeing it. You were sitting on the edge of an exam table and Denise was beside you seated on a tall stool with gloves on. Daryl’s brain seemed to catch up as he froze in the doorway and he finally consciously registered what he was looking at. Your shirt was off and rumpled beside you on the table. Your upper body was bare except for your bra and Denise was stitching a wound on your side. The skin on your back, shoulders, and arms was a mottle of dark bruising, cuts, and abrasions down to some particularly angry looking marks encircling your wrists. There were constellations of little marks scattered across your skin, some new and some long-healed. He couldn’t have been in the doorway for more than a second before you and Denise realized he was there, but it was enough time for him to experience a dizzying torrent of emotions.

Your eyes went wide as you turned and realized he was standing there, and you grabbed your shirt and hastily began pulling it on, your fingers shaking as you tried to button it. “Daryl—” In the same moment you jumped down, accidentally knocking the metal tray of supplies to the floor where they clanged loudly. “Shit!” Daryl was already rushing away when you looked at Denise.

“I thought you said you locked the door!” you said.

“I—I thought I—Y/N, your stitches,” she called after you, but you were already gone, chasing after Daryl.

“Daryl! Wait—Daryl!” you called after him, still fumbling with buttons as you chased after him through the clinic.

He burst out into the night and you were just behind him, catching the door before it could completely close and racing across the porch and down the stairs.

“Daryl, please—”

He finally stopped on the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps, frozen, and you caught up to him. Even standing behind him, you could tell his chest was heaving and when he turned to look at you, you read many things on his face at once. His blue eyes were glassy with tears but they seemed to shift with internal turmoil. His hands were clenched into fists. Rage was boiling beneath the surface. He spoke carefully when he finally managed it. “‘M sorry,” he drawled, ducking his head. “I didn’t mean to walk in on ya like that...” he said.

You just stared back at him, your eyes still wide, your fingers still on the top button of your shirt. “It’s okay…” you said softly, your stomach churning.

Daryl gulped and paced back toward you, his eyes landing on your face again. “But he—did he—?” He couldn’t even get a fucking sentence out. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenching. He swore under his breath, trying to maintain control. “He did that to ya,” he said, his gaze intense. “Last night. Just ‘cuz ya weren’t home.” It wasn’t a question.

You felt your face burn with heat. You gulped, but didn’t answer.

Daryl’s breath came faster as he nodded. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, so hard he tasted blood. His heart hammered against his rib cage. “How long has this been goin’ on?”

Again, you didn’t answer and only ducked your head, unable to look at him anymore. Shame washed over you.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. Those tears in his eyes born of rage and sadness and horror at seeing all the injuries on your body blurred his vision. “I’ve heard the way that piece of shit talks to ya sometimes—I mean, we all have. The way he tries to control ya. But this? All this time he’s been doin’ this to ya, and ya didn’t tell me? Why didn’t ya tell me?” he begged you as if he needed the answer to breathe. “Or if not me, someone. Carol. Maggie. Somebody!”

Your stomach was churning and then clenching into a hard pit. You opened your mouth to answer, but it was a long moment before any words came out. “I didn’t want—to drag anyone else in,” you said weakly. “And I thought—I always thought it would stop once… I don’t know, once things were stable. Like, at the prison or once we got here. But it didn’t. And—I guess, I thought I could handle it. And I felt like I was in too deep. And I felt—I felt stupid for letting it happen to me,” you said, your voice breaking. Daryl’s heart ached. “I mean, I can fight. Why do I let it happen to me? But—when I used to try and fight him—it made it so much worse,” you said, and you ducked your head again. He watched your body start to tremble, like some involuntary fear response at the mere thought of it. “The things he’s—he’s—"

“It’s not yer fault. And ya ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed of. It ain’t as simple as fightin’ back or just leavin’…” Daryl swore under his breath again and ran a hand over his face. “Fuck, Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me?” he said again. “Ya coulda told me.” He was seething now, again picturing the kaleidoscope of injuries he’d seen on you. “Some of those cuts I just saw on ya,” he said, “he used a knife? Huh?” You didn’t answer but he didn’t need you to. He shook his head. “Nah. This is done. He’s done. Go back in there and have Denise finish fixin’ ya up,” he said. “Then ya should probably stay with her tonight.”

You felt bile rising into your throat. “What are you going to do?” you asked him.

“What d’ya think? I’mma go to your house, drag his ass into the street, and beat him to a fucking pulp,” he growled.

Fear tightened your stomach into a hard pit. “Daryl, don’t—please, you can’t do that.”

“I can and I will,” he growled. “He ain’t layin’ another finger on ya.”

You shook your head, your eyes wide and fearful. “Earlier, when I said I couldn’t talk to you—he—he’s threatened to kill you. If he sees us together again... He’s jealous and—and he told me if I so much as look at you—I think he knows that—” you broke off abruptly, wondering if you were even making any sense to him at all.

Daryl gulped, his shifting suddenly going completely still. “Knows what?” he asked, his heart still hammering in his chest, but now perhaps for a slightly different reason.

You simply shook your head again. “Listen to me, Daryl—best case scenario, if you go there and attack him, you’ll get yourself exiled from Alexandria. And that’s best case. Please,” you begged him. “You can’t. Please… He won’t hesitate to kill you if he gets the chance.”

“I’d like to see him fuckin’ try,” Daryl growled.

You stepped in close to him, your expression desperate, and you gripped the front of his jacket. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,” you whispered, your eyes flickering between his.

He gulped and his hands landed gently on the small of your back for just a brief second, and it was electric. “Neither do I. But turns out somethin’ real bad is already happenin’ to ya. And has been for a long time. Besides, like I said, ya think that asshole can take me? Fuck no.”

You shook your head. “Just—for tonight—please… Go home. Cool down. Think this through. Please. I’m scared of what he’ll do to you.”

Your voice was so pleading, your eyes shining with tears, that it somehow overcame his rage and he caved. He ducked his head and his shoulders slumped. “Fine. Fine… for tonight. I’ll wait. I’ll go home. But he’s gonna get dealt with. I’m gonna deal with him. And ya shouldn’t go back there...”

You let out a long sigh of relief, though you still felt jittery and sick. Your fingers slipped from the front of Daryl’s jacket. “He’s passed out drunk on the couch,” you said. “It’s the only reason I could sneak out here to see Denise.”

Daryl had the brief thought that now was the perfect time to beat the fuck out of him then. But he’d already agreed, given you his word. “Still,” he said, drawing away from you. “Go get fixed up. I’ll—‘m gonna figure this out. I promise.” He had a hard time leaving you. He watched until you were pulling the door open to the clinic again, and you glanced back at him one more time, and his heart jumped.

Daryl walked home in the lonely dark, his insides somersaulting between fury and fear for you and regret and a deep ache. Carol was waiting on the porch, pacing. She stopped as he came up the steps, her expression desperate.

On seeing his face, that look didn’t change. “What happened?” she asked.

He swallowed the nausea rising into his throat as images of your injuries flashed in his head. “He beat the shit out of her last night. She’s all bruised, all cut up. Marks all over. Bad ones on her wrists, like—like he held her down.” He didn’t want to linger on why that might’ve been. “Carol—He used a knife on her,” Daryl growled, a shadow deepening on his face.

“God,” Carol breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God…”

“Denise is putting stitches in her side, patching her up.”

“What do we do now?” Carol asked in a harsh whisper. “Should I go wake up Rick and Michonne? We can go to Deanna and—”

He shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “I promised her I wouldn’t do anything tonight,” he drawled.

Carol looked shocked. “Well, screw that! She’s in danger!”

“I couldn’t say ‘no’ to her. Ya didn’t see her. She was panickin’, beggin’ me to just wait and think shit through. Ya dun think I wish I was killin’ him with my bare fuckin’ hands righ’ now?” He broke off and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I think—bringin’ a bunch of people in, ev’rybody findin’ out—s’gonna be traumatic in a different way for her.”

“Yes,” Carol nodded. “It will be. We both know that. But to get her out of it, we have to.”

“The thing is,” he started, but he broke off and nervously sunk his teeth into the corner of his nail, “—some things she said… I think—I think she was tryin’ to protect me by stayin’ with him.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

After Denise had finished stitching you up, she’d offered you her spare room. You’d accepted, but only stayed for about an hour. Your anxiety was far too high to allow you to sleep. Some of your fear had initially passed since Daryl had agreed not to go storming off to your house tonight. But—you were slowly seized with growing worry that he’d go back on his word… You knew how angry he was. You’d seen the inferno in his eyes, burning blue like the hottest part of a flame. And when Daryl was pissed, especially in regards to the treatment of one of his own, he could be brash. “Shit,” you muttered, tossing the blankets off and hastily pulling your boots back on. You’d just go to his house and make sure he wasn’t about to do anything stupid… Yes. That’s all you’d do. You’d just go to check on him and make sure he wasn’t getting ready to go storm in on your drunken asshole of a(n) (ex)partner passed out on the couch and beat him to a pulp.

Alexandria was dark and silent except for the chirping of a few lonely crickets and the echoing of your steps as you navigated the shadowy sidewalks. Daryl’s house was dark too as you stared up at it, pausing on the small patch of lawn between the sidewalk and the walkway up to the steps. It had to be the very early hours of the morning now. You took a deep breath and went up. Surprisingly, the front door was unlocked preventing any hiccup in your plan. Soon you were standing at the top of the basement stairs.

"Daryl?" you called softly down. It was dark down there, but not entirely. You could tell he had a dim light on. He was definitely awake. Of course he was. "I'm coming down," you said.

When you passed the doorframe at the bottom of the steps, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed with a bottle in his hands. He was staring at it like the label was in a foreign language, even though you could read "Buffalo Trace" from where you stood.

"Daryl?" Your voice seemingly broke his trance. He looked up at you, almost sheepishly, but only for a split second.

Daryl gulped at the tightness in his throat and turned his gaze back to the bottle in his hands.

Your stomach somehow seemed to both sink and twist at the same time and you opened your mouth to say something but you came up empty at first. After a long moment, you managed, “Where'd you get that?” as you gestured to the bottle.

"Found it on a run a while back. I always got a bottle of somethin' tucked away, ya know. Never know when ya might need it." He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"So, you're just planning on getting drunk then? Is that what this is?" you asked, and you couldn't keep an edge out of your voice. For the first time since you'd come in, Daryl looked up at you—really looked. He stared for a long moment and then reached over and set the bottle down on his nightstand with a loud clack.

He stood up, his broad shoulders and chest on full display as he paced over to you, his blue eyes narrowed. You found yourself backing up and suddenly your back hit the wall. A small gasp of surprise left you. Daryl still stepped in one more time, breaching that small buffer of space you usually maintained and staying there. “Are ya plannin’ to go back with him? Stay with him?" he asked in a low voice.

You let out a shaky breath. “I—I’m trying to protect you and everyone else. What am I supposed to do?”

"Yer s'posed to leave his ass before he fuckin' kills you. Or before I kill him," Daryl growled. His anger hadn’t abated since your talk outside the clinic. On the contrary, you were sure he’d been sitting here and stewing on everything he’d seen.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between his. “If I try to leave, then he will kill me and who knows who else he’ll come after,” you whispered. You hesitated briefly. “You. He’ll probably come after you. But if I try to go, he’ll definitely kill me.”

Daryl let out a long sigh and placed his palm flat on the wall beside your head, leaning toward you. With his other hand, he brushed a stray strand of your hair away from your face. "Ya really think I'd ever let a damn thing like that happen?" he whispered. “I told ya already. I’ll deal with him. I’ll protect ya.”

Your heart was racing and your chest heaved with your breath now. You don't know for sure who started it—not for sure. It could have been that you reached up and placed your palm in the center of his chest and spoke his name. Or it could have been that Daryl simply crashed his lips down on yours, gripped your hip and pressed against you. It didn't matter. The next moment you were entirely wrapped up in him, entangled in each other. Before you knew it, he was kissing your neck and his hands were wandering your curves, gently floating over you, aware of your injuries beneath the thin layers of fabric. He couldn’t have forgotten them if he tried, and so he touched you so carefully...

Your fingers were in his hair and beneath his shirt, running over his strong muscles and hitching on his scars. Daryl lifted you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him heatedly as he carried you toward his bed. You ignored the twinges and aches in your sore and battered body. It was easier, because kissing Daryl seemed to block out or dampen your pain. He tipped you back onto his bed gently, crawling over you, desperate to keep his lips on yours or kissing your soft skin. One hand on your hip and the other smoothing over your arm and then lacing with your fingers, the heat between the two of you building to a temperature that would surely consume you both.

But suddenly—reality came back and with a tremendous effort your ragged breathing turned into saying his name again. He felt you pulling back, pulling away. He leaned up over you and his blue eyes flickered over your face.

“I—I can't,” you gasped, and it sounded like it broke your heart to say it. “We can't...”

You watched the turmoil roiling in his eyes. You hoped he could see how desperate for him you were... and understand why you couldn't. It was a line you wouldn’t cross, despite everything he’d done to you.

"He dun deserve ya... not that I do either," he breathed, still caged over your body, the heat of him pouring into your skin. He brushed your hair back from your face so tenderly that tears filled your eyes and you pulled in a stuttered breath. "But at least I'd always treat ya righ'. I'd never lay a hand on ya. Ya know that." A tear broke out and ran down toward your temple. Daryl wiped the streak from your cheek. "I know," you said.

"We can have this. We can be happy. I can keep ya safe.”

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Then don't. Just let me do it."

Your eyes searched his face for a long moment. Another tear broke free and ran down by your temple and into your hair.

“He’s dangerous, Daryl.”

“So am I.” He ran the pad of his thumb along the line of your jaw. “So are you. So is this, us together.” He heaved a sigh. “Ya can’t be with him anymore. Ya know that. Ya think he might try to kill ya if ya leave, but he’s going to kill ya if ya stay. Please. Lemme do this for ya.” He was asking for your permission, though you doubted that not giving it would hold him back forever… Daryl had his limits. And someone laying their hands on you was far beyond them.

Finally, your lips parted and you breathed ‘okay’ into the air between the two of you.

Daryl’s fingers brushed back through your hair again. “Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay,” you whispered again, your eyes looking a little wide and fearful, or maybe surprised that you’d agreed.

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief and then his lips were on yours again. You hummed into the kiss and returned it fervently, the heat building between the two of you quickly again. What you were feeling was almost overwhelming, and you felt another tear leak out from the corner of your eye again and run downwards. Daryl clasped your face and pulled back for a moment, parting his lips from yours with a deep aching sense of loss. But he studied your expression again, his blue eyes flickering over your features as if he was memorizing them. “Are ya okay?” he asked.

You must have heaved in a stuttered breath. You nodded. “Yes,” you whispered. “Daryl—” you pressed your hand to his chest and Daryl felt his skin flare with heat and electricity at your touch. “I’ve—I’ve wanted this with you for so long,” you admitted. “You have to know that. ”

He gulped nervously and nodded. “Me too,” he said. You were still caged beneath his body, his hand on your hip, but he suddenly moved to the side and laid down next to you. “But—maybe we should slow down,” he said. He wanted to be completely entangled with you, but he also greatly wanted to care for you after what you had just gone through, and what you were going through now. “Yer hurt. Have ya slept at all?” he asked, his hand running down the length of your arm from your shoulder to your wrist.

You shook your head, and it was like at that moment that all the exhaustion hit you—physical, emotional, and mental. Your body grew heavy and sunk weightily into the mattress beside him. You turned onto your side to fully face him. “No,” you murmured, studying his face.

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya should sleep,” he said, gently slipping your hand into his. “Nobody will hurt ya tonight. Or any other night, for that matter, if I have my way ‘bout it. ‘M righ’ here,” he said. He glanced down at your hand in his and his fingers slid up, gently nudging the cuff of your shirt aside. He ran his fingers lightly over the bruising encircling your wrist and a thick lump materialized in your throat. He lifted your wrist gently and pressed a kiss to the underside, before giving you a look that you couldn’t quite put a word to—all you knew was that it shot straight to your core, and you were suddenly screaming inside about everything that had been done to you and about how much time you had wasted and about how much you had wanted to be more with Daryl and never thought you’d be free to pursue it and—

Your body betrayed you with another shuddered breath as you tried not to break down again. “I’m okay,” you breathed. “I’m okay…”

“Yer safe. I promise,” he whispered back to you. “C’mere,” Daryl said, and he pulled you in close and held you against his body. The weight of him, his steadiness, his warmth, his comforting smell… it always made you feel safe when you had glimpses of it, and now you had it as close as possible and you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d felt so secure.

You draped your arm over him and tucked your head up under his chin. His arms stayed around you and you felt him leave a kiss in your hair. “Go to sleep,” he drawled softly. “I’ve got ya.”

And within minutes, out of complete exhaustion, you did.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Both you and Daryl were deeply asleep, tucked against one another in his bed, for the rest of the night, until… the sharp sound of shattering glass and a hot blaze of light startled the two of you awake.

A strangled scream left you as you tried to comprehend what was happening. Daryl was instinctively shielding you with his body as both of you tried to get your bearings, but the character of the light now blazing in the previously dark room was unmistakable and quickly had him bailing out of the bed and grabbing a nearby wool blanket. Fire. Some boxes near the foot of Daryl’s bed had caught and quickly gone up in flames. Daryl tossed the wool blanket over the top and hurriedly smothered it, stamping out any remaining hot spots before standing over the scene, his chest and shoulders heaving with panicked and bewildered breaths.

You were sitting up in his bed, your back pressed against the wall and your knees pulled up to your chest. Your eyes were wide.

“Are ya okay?” Daryl asked urgently. You nodded. His eyes flickered back over the scene. The small basement window was shattered and glass was everywhere, but there was also the unmistakable sting of alcohol in the air. He rubbed a hand over his face. His eyes landed on a brick on the floor and then the round glass bottom of a bottle or jar.

You spoke it before he could. “He did this,” you said, shifting and feeling like you couldn’t catch a breath. “He—he must have seen—”

Daryl’s hands clenched into fists. He hurriedly began tugging on his boots. “Stay here,” he said, his voice a dangerous low growl.

“Daryl—”

“Nah. He’s done. This is over.”

“Daryl!” You were still scrambling out of the bed and frantically pulling your boots on, unlaced, by the time he was bounding up the stairs.

You chased after him but the front door was already open and he was barreling down the sidewalk. The sounds of your startled yells and the clattering of the two of you had awoken some of the other members of the house. You looked up the stairs to see Maggie, Glenn, and Carol standing there looking perplexed and concerned. You gulped and nervously ran your hand back through your hair before glancing at the front door standing open again. “Um—Fuck, go get Rick and Michonne,” you said urgently. “Now! Tell them to head toward my house! Daryl’s going to kill him!”

Without anything further, you tore off after Daryl. The sun wasn’t up yet but the faint pink glow in the sky was enough to illuminate Alexandria in a wash of rosy hues. You ran as fast as you could but were hindered by the looseness of your boots. It felt as if you were running in sand and time seemed to slow. All sound vanished until the only thing you could hear at all was your own rapid breathing and the pounding of your heart. Your mind raced. Your footsteps reverberated through your body, rhythmic and jarring. You had to find Daryl. You had to make sure he didn’t get himself into deep shit because of you… because after what had just happened, you had no doubt that he would kill your ex.

Sure, it would probably be seen as justified considering the Molotov cocktail that had just followed a brick through his window—your stomach clenched. That could have been so much worse than it was. What if it had landed on you and Daryl? You wondered if your ex had been staring in through the window. The thought made your skin crawl and a nauseous wave rose into your throat. But you didn’t have time to linger on this thought any longer. Your house came into view ahead and there was a crumpled, writhing form on the lawn, cast in shadow. Suddenly, time returned to normal speed. As you got closer, the shadowy mass dissolved into two distinct human figures.

“Daryl!” you yelled. You ran as fast as you could and skidded to a stop. Daryl had your ex on the ground, firmly beneath him, and was pummeling him in the face and body with hit after hit. He didn’t even seem to hear you. “Daryl, stop!” You rushed forward and grabbed his shoulder but he shook you off absently.

The overwhelming smell of booze seemed to ooze outward in a cloud around your ex and that explained why it looked like he’d barely been able to put up any kind of resistance.

Rapid footsteps ran up behind you and you turned to see Rick, Michonne, and many of the other members of your family standing behind you. “Rick—do something! He’s going to kill him!”

Without hesitation, Rick and Michonne rushed forward and took hold of Daryl, hauling him off the now still and battered figure laying on the grass. Daryl continued to struggle against them, swearing under his breath and yelling threats at the prone body ahead. What finally stopped his pacing and frantic efforts to get back to dealing out a hefty prescription of justice was you.

You rushed forward and skirted around Rick to clasp Daryl’s face in both hands and make him look at you. “It’s over!” you said urgently. “It’s over! You got him. It’s okay!”

When his eyes found yours, the strain and tension in his body melted away and he stopped fighting. Your hands slipped down to his chest and you pressed your palms to him gently. He softened, his chest still heaving as he caught his breath. “Are ya—are ya okay?” he asked you again.

You nodded and then looked down at his clenched fists, which were shaking. “Your hands,” you said quietly. His knuckles were cracked and already swelling.

“‘M fine,” he said.

Rick left your ex’s side and returned to Daryl’s, looking at him with an intense expression that clearly suggested he needed a fucking explanation in less than three seconds.

“Ah, fuck,” Daryl murmured under his breath, ducking his head. You stepped to his side so he could speak with Michonne and Rick, but you kept your arm looped through his and your palm flush to the bare skin of his forearm. He was grateful. It was grounding him. “This asshole—just tried to kill us,” Daryl said between breaths. “He broke my fuckin’ window with a brick and then threw a goddamn Molotov through the window, barely missing catching my fuckin’ bed on fire.”

Rick��s jaw clenched but he paused and took a measured beat. “How do you know it was him?” he asked.

Daryl scoffed. “Ya mean besides the fact that when I went tearin’ out here he was runnin’ as fast as his drunk ass could away from our place?” Daryl glanced over at you and you tried your best to give him an encouraging nod. “How ‘bout ‘cuz I had someone he considers ‘his girl’ sleepin’ next to me in my bed because he beat the fuck outta her two days ago? She had to sneak off to even get help from Denise. Rick, man, he’s been hurtin’ her this entire time. Who else would it be?”

Rick’s face darkened and you saw the muscle in his jaw tense again. He glanced at you. “Is that true?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Denise has been helping me since we got here when I—when he hurts me too badly but I made her swear not to tell her anyone. But it’s been going on almost as long as he and I have been together. Years. You can talk to Denise. I’ll tell her it’s okay…”

Carol stepped forward. “Rick, I’ve had suspicions since the quarry,” she agreed, trying to give you a small, but sad, reassuring smile.

“There’s glass and scorch marks all over my room,” Daryl said. “This asshole deserves every hit I gave him and more. It coulda gone way worse…”

Rick exchanged a look with Michonne and sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Alright… All of you, go on back to the house. We don’t need a bigger scene than we’ve already got. Michonne, go get Denise to have a look at him and then—we’ll move him somewhere secure. I’ll talk to Deanna once the sun’s up…” He rubbed a hand over his forehead and sighed again.

Now that your adrenaline was waning, exhaustion returned along with a tremendous amount of pain in your body from pushing it to run. It must have been visible on your face, because Daryl asked again in a low voice, “Are ya alrigh’?” His brow furrowed deeply over his eyes.

You gulped, feeling the weight of the last few days like an iron anchor on your chest. You nodded. “Yeah. I—I think so. Sore. Tired.”

“C’mon. Let’s go home,” he said, gently touching the small of your back. Fluttering erupted in your chest.

You briefly stared up at the house that had been your “home” since shortly after you’d found Alexandria. But Daryl had always been your true home… and you’d known it since almost the moment you’d met him. You turned your back on it and walked with Daryl and the others to the only place where you felt truly safe.

Maggie and Carol had managed to squeeze you into hugs tightly on the front porch, but you had no energy or desire for anything else besides tending to Daryl’s hands and collapsing back into bed, even if there was still shattered glass and the smell of smoke in the room.

Daryl sat you down on the edge of the bed and insisted on patching up the window with cardboard and clearing away the remnants of your ex’s attack. You tugged him down to sit beside you when he’d finished and dabbed at his knuckles with a damp cloth, cleaning away the dried blood. Your eyes lifted to fix on the speckles of blood on his shirt and Daryl quickly glanced down and saw what you were staring at. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

“Let’s get you a clean shirt,” you said gently, reaching for the top button. “Can I?” you asked. He nodded. Not a moment of hesitation. You undid the buttons, your fingertips occasionally brushing his bare skin and sending him reeling or gulping thickly, and pushed the shirt back off his shoulders, finally tugging it free. Your eyes traveled over the scars on his chest and stomach. You’d seen them a few times over the years, but it struck you at that moment how alike you both were in this way. You too had constellations of violence on your skin. Your hands pressed gently to his chest and your eyes were glassy when you looked up and met his again. Daryl seemed to understand in that moment, what you were trying to say… You went to a clean pile of clothing draped over a chair in the corner and brought him a clean t-shirt. He quickly pulled it on and then gave you a long look.

“Ya ain’t scared of me now, are ya?” he asked, and your eyes shot back up to his.

“What? Are you kidding?” you brushed your fingers into his hair, moving it away from his face. “Of course not, Daryl. I’ve seen you fight bad men before now.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod, relieved. “I dun ever wanna scare ya,” he said.

Your warm hand came to rest on the side of his neck. He loved the weight and softness of it. “I know,” you said. “You won’t. You never have.”

Your eyes closed and you leaned in and found his lips with yours, kissing him softly and slowly. His arms wrapped around you and tugged you in, held you close. The kiss deepened, hungry and eager and filled with unsaid things. When you finally broke apart, Daryl nodded toward the pillows. “Think ya can sleep?”

“If you’re here? Yes.”

The two of you settled down beneath blankets and on soft pillows, but the most comforting was Daryl’s touch and weight against you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl tightened the chin strap on your helmet and gave you a small, fond smile. You grinned up at him, brimming with life and light. And you should be. Your ex was long gone, exiled from Alexandria and dropped off in parts unknown with a few supplies. Daryl had made sure he was there when it happened and also made sure that he knew if he saw him again, he’d get a bolt in his head before he could open his mouth.

Daryl leaned in kissed your cheek and then snuck another one on your neck, causing you to laugh. Your hair stood on end with the best kind of goosebumps. You bit you bottom lip and smiled up at him again. “C’mon. Let’s go show ev’rybody what we got today,” he said, patting a hand down on the deer meat strapped on the back of his bike.

He climbed onto his bike and leaned forward and you slipped in behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle and settling in close. The heat that pooled in the middle of your chest was the same as always. How many times had you ridden on Daryl’s bike at this point? And yet every time—without fail—you felt it as you settled down behind him. His hand left his handlebar and smoothed over yours for a moment.

“Ready?” he drawled.

“Ready,” you said. Your cheek pressed into the back of his shoulder as you hugged yourself to him. “Go fast!” you said, and he could hear the smile in your voice.

He let out a joyful laugh that you adored and smiled to himself. “You got it, boss,” he said, and he fired the motorcycle to life.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story. I made some intentional choices about the reader that reflect the fact that anyone, ANYONE, can be a victim of domestic abuse and violence. She is a survivor who knows how to fight, but still is subject to the abuse of her toxic and violent relationship. She had a support system, but still was unable to leave. She felt shame and guilt and hid it as is very common. DV is all too common and is very complex. Most people must attempt to leave an average of seven times before they are successful. If only we all had Daryl Dixon to rescue us. <3 Protect yourself by running a background check on people you date and being cautious about online dating. Watch for signs of a potentially dangerous relationship such as love bombing, insisting on moving things forward too fast, controlling behavior, and isolating you from your family and friends. Trust your gut. Trust that if ALL your friends and family don't like someone you date, there's probably a reason. Be safe. Love you. <3 If you or someone you know needs assistance with domestic violence (USA) call 800-799-7233 or text BEGIN to 88788. In the UK, help is available here: https://www.gov.uk/guidance/domestic-abuse-how-to-get-help#get-help-and-support

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

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daryldicksuckon69 · 8 months ago

Text

Unspoken Truths (16+)

Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn, Abraham live and there's no Saviors)

Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Teasing by the whole group

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: none

Summary: Daryl and Reader and reminded that they need to step into reality and admit the growing attraction between the two of them that literally everyone else sees except them.

@futuremilfemma hey :) i saw that your request were open and i had something in my mind 🤭 first of all i love your fics and your writing style especially in „ride his motorcycle“ when the character had this cute relationship with the women of the group and their little gossip sessions. sooo i was wondering if you could write something like this: the group finally settles down in alexandria (pre negan) the reader and daryl have known eachother since the quarry (they went hunting together. bonded over past trauma, etc.) and they have always hit it off and are now labeled as best friends but everyone around them can see that they feel more. like they try and convince them to confess and all but they just keep admiring eachother from afar especially daryl when he sees the reader getting ready for the party at deanna‘s? sorry if that‘s too much i would just love reading something like this

A/N: Thanks for the request emma, I hope this is what you were looking for. I was keke-ing while writing about the girls and guys teasing reader and daryl haha

The walls of Alexandria loomed in the distance, a symbol of safety and normalcy in a world where both had become distant memories. Daryl, perched against the frame of the front porch, watched the community come alive. People bustled about, preparing for a party Deanna was hosting that night—a strange but welcome change of pace from the endless survivalist days on the road.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this. The quiet, the calm—it unnerved him. It was a stark contrast to the constant danger they’d faced since the prison, the farm; since anything in his life, even before people lost their brains: Alexandria seemed almost too good to be true.

And then there was you.

You had been with him from the beginning, always by his side during hunts, sharing long silences and stories of past hurts, unspoken but understood. Over the years, you’d become his anchor, the one person he could trust completely. The one person he didn’t feel judged by, and the one who saw past his rough exterior. You got him in a way no one else did.

Which is why it was complicated now, more than ever.

His gaze flickered to the house where you were getting ready for the party. The curtains were drawn back, and he could see you through the open window. You’d always been beautiful to him, though he’d never said it aloud. That wasn’t his way, after all. But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the fact that you had spent so long getting ready, or maybe it was the way the soft glow of the evening light bathed you in an ethereal warmth. Whatever it was, Daryl couldn’t look away.

You were standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the dress he’d recognised all too well.

You and Daryl had gone on a supply run, just the two of you—like old times. Though Alexandria offered some respite from the chaos, there were still days when you both preferred the quiet of the woods, where the only sounds were your footsteps and the rustle of leaves.

It had been a rough few days, though. A week ago, Spencer, Mayor Deanna’s son, had rejected you. The memory of his dismissive words still stung—how he’d said you were “nice,” but he wasn’t looking for anything serious. It wasn’t just the rejection that hurt, but the way he’d made you feel small, like you were an afterthought.

Daryl hadn’t pried, but he knew something was off. He’d seen the sadness you tried to hide and how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes lately.

“Need somethin’?” Daryl asked as he pulled open the door to what used to be a boutique, stepping inside first to make sure it was clear.

“No, just looking,” you muttered, following him in. The boutique was a sad shell of its former self. Clothes lay scattered across the floor, mannequins toppled, and the scent of dust and decay filled the air.

You trailed behind him, not really interested in finding anything specific—just glad to be moving. Daryl moved with his usual quiet intensity, sifting through racks with a practised eye. He didn’t speak much, but his presence was a comfort. He’d always been that for you, even when words weren’t necessary.

As you wandered near the back of the store, your gaze fell on a shattered mirror. You stared at your reflection for a moment, feeling the weight of Spencer’s rejection creeping back in. The cracked glass seemed to echo how you felt inside—fractured, unimportant.

Suddenly, Daryl’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Hey.”

You turned, and your heart skipped at the sight of him holding up a dress—a simple, sleeveless one in a soft, faded green. He held it awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure how to handle it, but his expression was serious as ever. “Thought this might suit ya.”

For a moment, you were speechless. The idea of Daryl, tough and rugged, holding up a dress for you was almost surreal. But the sincerity in his eyes softened the moment.

“Me?” You arched a brow, stepping closer to inspect the dress. “You really think so?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “Kinda matches your eyes, I guess. I dunno.” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable but pushing through. “Just… figured ya might like it. After… y’know.”

It took you a second to realise what he meant. After Spencer. It wasn’t just that Spencer had rejected you– it was the casual way he’d brushed you aside, as though your feelings were nothing more than an inconvenience. It has cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

The realisation made your chest tighten, but not with sadness this time—with something else. He wasn’t just showing you a dress. He was trying to make you feel better, in the way only Daryl could.

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Daryl. That’s… sweet.”

He grunted, clearly embarrassed, his gaze darting away. “Ain’t nothin’. Just a stupid dress.”

But you shook your head. “No, it’s not stupid. I like it.”

For the first time in days, you felt the shadow that had been hanging over you lift just a little. The dress was a gesture, small but significant. Daryl didn’t give compliments easily, and for him to go out of his way to do something like this—it meant more than you could put into words.

You took the dress from his hands, feeling the worn fabric between your fingers. “Maybe I’ll wear it to the next one of Deanna’s parties,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Daryl’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a split second, something unreadable passed between you. “You should,” he muttered, his voice low but firm. “You’d look real good.”

You blinked, surprised by the weight behind his words. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer before he turned back to the rack of clothes, mumbling something under his breath. It wasn’t like Daryl to give compliments, much less ones that carried so much weight.

Your heart fluttered at the thought.

Tucking the dress under your arm, you smiled softly to yourself. Spencer’s rejection suddenly seemed like a distant memory. Maybe it didn’t matter what he thought. Maybe the only person whose opinion really mattered was standing right in front of you.

He saw the way you ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing it down before reaching up to touch your hair. It was rare to see you like this—clean, dressed up. It made his heart race in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t even sure if you ever really noticed how hard he tried, in his own way, to make you feel like you mattered.

“What’re you starin’ at, Dixon?”

Daryl stiffened at the voice behind him. Rick. Of course.

“Nothin’,” he muttered, turning away from the window as if caught doing something wrong. But Rick wasn’t buying it, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told Daryl that much.

“Yeah, sure. Nothin’.” Rick chuckled softly, clapping a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Everyone sees it, you know.”

Daryl frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Sees what?”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “You and her. You think nobody’s noticed the way you two are? C’mon, Daryl. It’s obvious.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, his boots scraping against the porch floor. He wanted to scoff, shrug it off like Rick was wrong, but the truth stuck in his throat like splinters. It wasn't just how you made him feel—he was terrified of what would happen if you knew.

“Ain’t like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Rick’s tone was teasing but gentle, like he knew exactly what Daryl was feeling. “You ever think about just… telling her?”

Daryl’s throat tightened at the thought. Confess? To you? The idea seemed ridiculous. You were his best friend—why would you want anything more from a guy like him? You deserved better. Someone who could give you more than just broken words and awkward silences.

“Nah,” he finally muttered. “Ain’t my place.”

Rick sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “You’re not fooling anyone. Just think about it.”

With that, Rick walked away, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts. He huffed in frustration, casting another glance toward your window. You were moving now, stepping back from the mirror to admire your reflection. A soft smile touched your lips, and something inside Daryl clenched.

He didn’t deserve to feel this way, did he? Not about you.

But he couldn’t help it.

The small house in Alexandria buzzed with excitement as you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the green dress Daryl had found for you on that run weeks ago. You weren’t exactly used to getting dressed up, and the idea of attending Deanna’s party made you feel awkward, even if the people around you seemed eager for a night of normalcy.

Behind you, Rosita lounged on the bed with her legs crossed, twirling a strand of her hair, while Carol and Maggie were sorting through a small pile of accessories on the table. Michonne leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a knowing smirk already playing at her lips.

“You know,” Rosita said, eyeing you with a sly grin, “if you’re getting all dolled up like that, maybe it’s not just for the party.”

You blinked at her through the mirror. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Carol chimed in, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’ve been wearing that same look all afternoon. Like you’re not sure if you’re nervous about the party or something else… or someone else.”

Your cheeks burned instantly, and you turned to look at her. “Carol, don’t start—”

“Daryl,” Maggie finished for her, waggling her eyebrows playfully. “We’re talking about Daryl.”

You groaned, shaking your head, but the teasing only intensified. Michonne smirked, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer. “Oh yeah. It’s obvious,” she added. “The way he looks at you… like he’s ready to rip apart anyone who so much as breathes in your direction.”

“Pfft,” Rosita snickered, shifting on the bed. “That man’s got it bad for you. I mean, you’ve been glued to his side since day one. You’re practically the Bonnie to his Clyde. Except way less murder-y… sometimes.”

You laughed despite yourself. “We’re just friends.”

Maggie let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “If you two are ‘just friends,’ then Rick and Michonne are still ‘just patrolling together,’” she teased, throwing a playful glance at Michonne, who raised a brow in mock offense.

“Hey, at least Rick and I own it now,” Michonne quipped, smirking. “You two? You’ve been dancing around each other forever.”

“Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Carol said thoughtfully, her smile turning softer. “Daryl’s like that. He’s patient, but… when he cares about someone, he doesn’t let go.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up at her words. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—about Daryl, about what he meant to you. But you’d always pushed those thoughts aside. Why ruin a good thing?

Rosita, though, wasn’t about to let you off the hook. She stood up and walked over, grinning as she picked up a necklace from the table and held it up to your neck. “Come on, admit it. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, haven’t you? He watches you like you’re the last good thing in this world.”

You swallowed hard, your mind drifting back to the way Daryl had looked at you earlier today when you caught him staring before the party. The way his eyes softened just slightly, the way he averted his gaze as if he was afraid of being caught.

Maggie smirked, stepping closer and nudging your arm. “Face it, girl. Y’all are the definition of ‘cute couple that won’t admit it.’”

“I—” you started, but Michonne cut you off, crossing her arms again with a teasing grin.

“Daryl may be rough around the edges, but let me tell you, when it comes to you…” She paused for dramatic effect, raising a brow. “He’d take real good care of you.”

Your face went hot. “Michonne!”

“What?” Rosita laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder as she wiggled her brows. “You know it’s true. He’s got that whole protective thing going on, like he’s just waiting to step in and—”

“Rosita, stop,” you groaned, covering your face in embarrassment.

But the room erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t help but smile behind your hands. The teasing was relentless, but you knew it came from a place of love. They saw something in the way Daryl and you interacted—something you had been too scared to fully acknowledge yourself.

As the laughter died down, Carol stepped forward, her expression soft and kind. “We’re only teasing because we care about you. And him. He might not be good with words, but Daryl… he shows how he feels in other ways.”

Maggie nodded, her voice gentle. “Like finding that dress for you. You know he didn’t just stumble on it by accident, right? He wanted you to have something nice. For yourself.”

“I can think of something else he wants her to have all to herself,” Rosita quips, turning the room into a bottle of laughter once again.

You looked down at the green fabric, brushing your fingers over it. Daryl had given it to you during one of your lowest moments, and you hadn’t realised until now how much it truly meant. It wasn’t just a dress. It was his way of saying he saw you, that you mattered to him.

Rosita gave you a playful nudge. “He may not say it out loud, but actions speak louder than words, right?”

You met her eyes through the mirror, and for a moment, everything felt so clear. The tension between you and Daryl had been building for so long, and maybe—just maybe—it was time to stop pretending it didn’t exist.

“Whatever happens tonight,” Maggie said, adjusting a bracelet on your wrist, “just remember—we all think you two would be great together.”

“Yeah,” Rosita added with a wink, “and don’t be surprised if Daryl tries to ‘take real good care of you’ later.”

You groaned again, laughing despite yourself. “You guys are terrible.”

Michonne grinned, her voice low and teasing. “Terrible? Maybe. But we’re right.”

And deep down, you really wanted them to be right.

The sun had begun to set by the time the party was in full swing. The house was filled with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses as the residents of Alexandria tried to pretend, just for a moment, that the world outside wasn’t in ruins. Daryl stood in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, scanning the room with the practised eye of someone who never quite let his guard down.

And then you walked in.

He hadn’t seen you since earlier when you were getting ready, and now that you were here, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The dress you wore was simple, but it hugged your frame in a way that made Daryl’s heart stutter. Your hair was loose, framing your face, and your eyes… your eyes were searching the room until they found him.

When you smiled, his throat went dry.

Daryl quickly looked away, feeling like an idiot. He was supposed to be a damn hunter, a man of few words, not some lovesick fool gawking at his best friend from across the room.

“Wow,” came a voice at his side. Daryl looked over to see Carol, who had caught his reaction and was now giving him a knowing grin. “You really should tell her, you know.”

“Not you too,” Daryl grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Carol chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m just saying, Daryl. It’s been obvious for a long time. She feels the same way—you can see it in the way she looks at you.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Feel the same way? No. That couldn’t be possible. Could it?

“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Carol nudged him gently. “It’s a party, after all.”

Daryl hesitated. He wasn’t good with this kind of stuff—feelings, emotions, talking. But as he glanced back at you, standing there, laughing with Maggie and Glenn, he realised that maybe Rick and Carol were right.

You spotted him as he was walking out into the yard, your eyes lighting up as you excused yourself from the conversation and made your way over to him just outside the house.

He could spend the rest of his life admiring you from afar, or he could take a risk.

"I'm goin' out for a smoke," Daryl nods, as he leaves through the back door.

The dim street light reflected the sheen of sweat on his toned bicep, Daryl’s eye locked on you as you made your way over to him. It was hard to see his expression as the setting of the sun glared in your eyes.

His heart pounded in his chest as you approached, every step making him more nervous than he’d ever been facing walkers.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, stopping just in front of him. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Daryl mumbled, avoiding your gaze for a moment before finally looking at you. “You, uh… you look nice.”

You smiled, a hint of surprise flickering in your eyes. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He snorted at that, shaking his head. “Ain’t nothin’ fancy ‘bout me.”

“I like you just the way you are,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat. There it was again—that feeling. The one he’d been trying to ignore for so long. The one that made his heart race whenever you were near. He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out.

“You ever think about… us?”

Your brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Us,” he repeated, his voice rougher than he intended. “I mean… hell, I dunno. Everyone keeps sayin’… like maybe there’s more. Between us.”

You blinked, processing his words, and for a moment Daryl feared he’d made a huge mistake. But then your expression softened, and you took a small step closer.

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

Daryl’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Yeah?”

You nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “I thought you’d never say anything.”

“I didn’t think I deserved to,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled at that, and the warmth in your eyes nearly undid him. “You’ve always deserved it, Daryl.”

And with that, the unspoken truth between you finally became clear. You had always been more than just best friends. You had always been each other’s home, in this world of chaos and ruin.

Maybe it was time you both admitted it.

The moment hung between you and Daryl like a fragile thread, one pull away from unraveling everything. His admission still echoed in your ears, making your heart race. You stood in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, your pulse quickening with each second that passed. You could feel the tension—thick, electric—stretching between you, both of you aware that this was a moment you couldn’t come back from.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “Daryl…”

He was still avoiding your gaze, the vulnerability in his expression so foreign it almost took your breath away. Daryl Dixon, the man who had survived everything, was scared—of you, of what this meant. You could see it in the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the way his jaw tightened as if he was bracing himself for something he couldn’t control.

But there was something else in his eyes too. Something raw and hungry, something that made your skin tingle.

“Daryl,” you whispered again, softer this time, stepping closer. He didn’t back away. Instead, his blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, and the intensity there sent a shiver down your spine.

Before either of you could think twice, before you could second-guess or push it away, your hands found his jacket, gripping the worn leather like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, and in the next heartbeat, your lips were on his.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative—like you were testing the waters, unsure of how far you could go. But the moment his lips moved against yours, the hesitation melted away. Daryl’s hands came up to your waist, pulling you closer as if he’d been holding himself back for too long. The gentle touch of his calloused fingers sent sparks through your skin, making you gasp against his mouth.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

The kiss deepened, his grip tightening around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. The world outside—the party, the people, the chaos—faded into the background until it was just you and Daryl. You could taste the intensity of his need, the years of unspoken words between you bleeding into every brush of your lips. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he’d been starving for this—starving for you.

Your heart pounded as you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, guttural sound from the back of his throat. The noise sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and suddenly, you wanted more. Needed more.

Daryl seemed to feel the same. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the fabric of your dress in a way that made you shiver. He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with want.

“You sure ‘bout this?” he rasped, his voice rough with restraint. His thumb traced slow circles on your hip, as though he was fighting against the very desire that had his body trembling with tension.

In response, you tugged him down again, crashing your lips against his. It wasn’t soft this time. It was all heat and desperation, like you couldn’t get enough of him, like you were trying to make up for all the time you’d spent denying this.

He groaned against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as his hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you closer. You could feel his body against yours, all hard muscle and heat, and it made your knees weak. Without breaking the kiss, Daryl backed you against the nearest wall, your back pressing against the cool surface as his mouth trailed down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck.

“God, Daryl,” you breathed, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he kissed his way down your throat, the rough scrape of his stubble igniting a fire beneath your skin.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen from the kiss, his breathing heavy. “I ain’t… I ain’t good at this,” he muttered, his voice low, filled with doubt. But there was a vulnerability there too, a softness that made your heart ache.

You cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumb along his jawline. “You’re better than you think,” you whispered, leaning in to press another soft kiss to his lips.

The reassurance seemed to break whatever was left of his hesitation. His hands were back on you, running down your sides, his fingers skimming over your dress before gripping your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you could feel every inch of him pressed against you.

Daryl kissed you again, rougher this time, his hands sliding under your dress, fingertips brushing against bare skin. His touch was searing, leaving trails of fire in its wake, and the need pooling in your core only intensified. His body pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall, and you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Daryl…” you whispered, your breath hitching as his hands roamed higher, slipping beneath your dress. Every touch sent a shiver of pleasure through you, and you arched against him, craving more of his heat, more of him.

His lips were back on yours, his kiss desperate and demanding. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself back, like he was afraid of losing control. But that was exactly what you wanted—you wanted him to lose control, to let go of all the tension he’d been holding for so long. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling you closer, and the heat between you was undeniable. His breath was heavy against your neck, lips grazing your skin, when—

“Daryl? You out here?” Rick’s voice cut through the air like a bucket of cold water.

Both of you froze, bodies tense and pressed together against the wall. You heard the sound of boots approaching, and panic shot through you. Daryl stepped back quickly, dropping his hands from your waist, but not before Rick rounded the corner, his brows shooting up in surprise.

“Oh, uh—sorry,” Rick said, holding up his hands in a mock surrender, though there was a smirk creeping onto his face. “Didn’t mean to… interrupt.”

Your face flushed red as you adjusted your dress, smoothing it down, while Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly flustered. His shoulders were still tense, and he shot Rick a look that could’ve melted steel.

Rick, ever the leader, just shrugged. “Deanna’s lookin’ for you two. Figured I’d check out back. Didn’t expect to find… this.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words failed you. The heat of the moment had been so intense, so all-consuming, that being yanked back to reality felt almost disorienting. Daryl, on the other hand, let out a low grunt, clearly still agitated by the sudden intrusion.

Rick, picking up on the tension, tried to backtrack. “Look, I’ll tell her I couldn’t find you. Give you some more time.”

“No,” you blurted, straightening your back and forcing a shaky laugh. “No, it’s fine. We’ll… we’ll be there in a minute.”

Rick nodded, the smirk still lingering on his lips as he backed away, throwing one last glance at Daryl. “Y’all take your time.”

As soon as he was gone, you and Daryl were left in awkward silence. You dared a glance at him, his eyes still burning with something you couldn’t quite place—frustration, embarrassment, maybe both. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head slightly.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rougher than usual. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You swallowed hard, the moment that had felt so heated now replaced with a strange tension. But you managed a small smile, stepping closer and brushing your fingers lightly against his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

His gaze flickered to you, softer now, but still conflicted. He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to say next, but before he could speak, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get back inside.”

As you walked back inside, Daryl’s hand brushing yours was a silent promise. The air between you was charged with what had just happened, but there was a new understanding. “We’ll talk later,” you said quietly, and he nodded, a small smile breaking through his earlier tension.

The house was bustling when you walked back in, laughter and music filling the air, the warmth of the party wrapping around you like a blanket. You felt a bit dishevelled, your mind still lingering on what had almost happened out there.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted with knowing looks from your friends. Maggie’s eyes landed on you first, and she exchanged a smirk with Rosita, who was sitting on the couch. Carol and Michonne were nearby, their gazes flicking between you and Daryl, who had taken up his usual stance near the door, trying to stay invisible.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Rosita teased, raising an eyebrow at you. Her eyes darted from you to Daryl, a grin spreading across her face. “You two were gone for a while. Everything okay?”

Your face flushed again, and you glanced at Daryl, who was doing his best to avoid everyone’s eyes. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, shuffling his feet, and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously.

“Yeah,” you managed, trying to sound casual. “We just… needed some air.”

“Uh-huh,” Maggie drawled, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is that what they call it these days?”

Carol, who had been watching quietly from the side, stepped forward with a soft smile. “Glad you two finally got some air. It’s about time.”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond, but before you could, Michonne chimed in, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. “You two need a map, or did you manage to find your way back okay?”

“Michonne!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as everyone around you erupted into laughter. Even Rick, who had rejoined the group, couldn’t suppress his grin.

Daryl, still standing off to the side, cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. But there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You alright, Daryl?” Rick asked, his voice teasing but with genuine care beneath it.

Daryl grunted in response, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ain’t nothin’,” he muttered, but his eyes briefly flicked to you, and the tension between you was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

Rosita, never one to miss a beat, leaned back on the couch and sighed dramatically. “Well, if that’s what fresh air does, maybe we should all get some.”

Laughter rippled through the group again, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh with them. The teasing, though relentless, was filled with warmth, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. They weren’t judging you—they were happy. Happy that, after everything, you and Daryl had finally taken a step toward something more.

Carol caught your eye, her smile gentle as ever. “Don’t let us embarrass you too much. We’re just glad you both finally stopped dancing around it.”

As the laughter subsided, you and Daryl exchanged a look that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the end of the conversation, but it was a start. You reached out, gently touching his arm, and he responded with a nod. In the midst of the party’s warmth, there was a new, tentative promise between you—an acknowledgment of all the unspoken truths that had simmered between you for so long.

There was a new, tentative promise between you—a promise to face the unspoken truths head-on. It was a promise of more conversations, more moments, and perhaps, the start of a deeper connection where everything that had remained unsaid would finally have a place.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #fluff #friends to lovers

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sundrop-writes · 4 months ago

Text

Break The Brake

Dom!Maggie Rhee x Sub!Fem!Reader x Sub!Glenn Rhee

I want some more, I want some more - yeah.

Gimme some more, gimme some more - yeah.

Summary:

Maggie has a lot to deal with in life right now - she's the (unofficial) leader of The Hilltop, trying to take care of an entire community, and at the same time dealing with their whiny ousted ex-leader, all while in the early stages of her pregnancy, growing a person inside of her - and somehow, all of the stress makes her hornier than ever.

Luckily, you and Glenn are always there when she needs the two of you.

Or - Maggie fucks you and Glenn in Gregory's bed because he pissed her off.

Dom!Maggie Rhee x Sub!Fem!Reader x Sub!Glenn Rhee. Established Poly Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 7 (Glenn Lives AU).

Word Count: 10,900

The Walking Dead Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This is an AU of Season 7 (or even of Season 8, because it's after Negan is jailed, but whatever) - Glenn lives, and I did not specifically mention Abraham dying, so you can imagine that he lived too if you want to - Negan is in jail and all the communities, including what's left of the Saviors, are now living in peace; Glenn, Maggie, and the reader are all in an established poly relationship - at this point in the series, Glenn and Maggie would have been 'married', so the reader is a part of that marriage as well (and though I didn't explicitly state it in the fic, I imagine that the reader goes by the last name Rhee as well); this is during the part of the timeline when Maggie was pregnant (this is why I am saying S7, rather than S8) - still very early on in her pregnancy; discussion of Maggie's body going through changes due to the pregnancy (her gaining weight and a brief, passing mention of her feeling insecure due to that weight gain), also mentions of the pregnancy hormones increasing her libido; this fic DOES use Y/N; the reader has a vagina and breasts and uses she/her pronouns - the reader also has the ability to get pregnant and expresses the desire to get pregnant during the fic; there is mentions of the reader's breasts becoming 'swollen' during pregnancy, but this doesn't denote her pre-pregnancy size, this is just a symptom that comes with pregnancy and an exaggerated descriptor due to the kink-side of her partners being excited about her becoming pregnant; this has very little plot and is mostly smut; warnings for the smut specifically: technically pregnancy sex (because Maggie is pregnant) even though she is the dom commanding the two subs and not actually the one being fucked; a lot of sub/dom dynamics - Maggie is extremely dominant (she is a mean, rough dom), the reader is submissive (she is bratty and teasing), and Glenn is submissive (he is soft and very well behaved); Maggie calls the reader 'little bird' and 'darling girl' and 'brat' and 'whore', and 'sweet little bitch', and 'breeding bitch'; Mommy kink - both Glenn and the reader call Maggie Mommy; brat taming - between Maggie and the reader; bondage - Maggie ties the reader's wrists behind her back, and later in the fic, ties Glenn to the bed with his own belt; punishment and reward - the reader misbehaves and Maggie punishes her (and eventually rewards her); some brief descriptions of anal sex (as a brief flashback - and the flashback is trigger when Maggie uses it as a threat towards the reader, but it's not a main point of this fic); fingering - reader receiving; spanking/pain kink - from Maggie towards the reader; Maggie whips the reader with a belt (across the ass, in a way that is described as pleasure-pain); using a knife to cut off and remove clothes; unprotected penis in vagina sex - between Glenn and the reader; overstimulation - Glenn is 'forced' to cum multiple times to the point where it is painful (but he enjoys it); breeding kink - as I mentioned before, the reader wants to get pregnant (and Maggie also really wants this so that their babies will be close in age, and as things progress, Glenn gets very into it as well); mentions of using a vaginal plug (to keep the cum inside); I think that's actually about it.

A/N: Title comes from a song by Xdinary Heroes of the same name. I have been wanting to write more 'quick' fics for TWD, and this fic was supposed to be like 5k, and even though it turned out way longer than I intended it to, this is definitely one of my quicker fics. So I am really happy with it. I want to write more PWP for The Walking Dead because those fics will be quicker, and because it will help me write fics for characters I haven't yet written about that I really want to write for. So I am definitely going to be writing more PWP fics between working on my longer Daryl fic. Anyway, I had a lot of fun working on this fic, and while I most definitely did not think that this was going to be my first fic of the year, I am super excited to share it with you guys, and I really hope that everyone enjoys it!

...

Patience.

It was one of the things that Maggie had mastered since becoming the leader of The Hilltop - well, the ‘unofficial’ leader. If you asked any one of the people who lived in the small community, they would tell you that Maggie was their leader. They would tell you that they looked to her for every important decision, even unimportant ones, and they followed her lead in everything.

Gregory was nothing more than a figurehead - though, in a lot of ways, he wasn’t even that. Figureheads were supposed to be a symbol that people looked to as a representation of something good. But all Gregory represented was cowardice, selfishness, and these days - avoidance of any responsibilities that he claimed to have. He claimed that he was still the undisputed leader of the community, and that all the ‘work’ he had put into Hilltop most definitely still meant something to the people living there. But when it came to major decisions, if Maggie, Glenn, you, Sasha, and Jesus outweighed him on his word, then he simply didn’t get his way.

Which led him to throwing a lot of childlike fits. Which led to Maggie being forced to develop a great deal of patience when it came to him.

Often times, when Gregory huffed and argued with her, she could hear her father’s voice in the back of her mind, ranting on about Job and how God wouldn’t impart wrath on the ‘weak minded’ - especially when she felt the itch of her hand straying toward her gun. She wondered if her father had some hand in sending a man named Jesus to watch over her, ensuring that she didn’t murder this awful, annoying man in cold blood.

“No, no. Absolutely not, I simply won’t have it!”

Gregory’s petulant voice echoed off the walls of the front sitting room that he had declared as his ‘office’ - clearly, he was trying to have some power over the meeting that he had called to talk to Maggie about this latest issue. He sneered a grand huff through his nostrils as he hurled himself back into his seat - a luxurious upholstered chair that sat tall behind the large oak desk that he claimed to ‘work’ at.

Maggie knew that he spent most of his time sitting there, reading through the expensive first edition book collection that lived in the Manor while he drank through the rare Scotch that Negan had given him when the extortion deals had still been in place. Hard work wasn’t something he was familiar with.

Currently, he was throwing a fit because Maggie had demanded (‘suggested’ Jesus would remind her to say during the meeting) - that more of the beds within the house actually be put into use with winter coming up. The Manor was large and had over ten functional bedrooms, and currently, only two of them were in use. One - the largest main bedroom, being used by Gregory, as it had been since The Turn.

And the second, more recently, being one of the smaller bedrooms on the ground floor had been taken up by you, Glenn, and Maggie. The three of you had only moved in there at Jesus’s insistence when he found out about Maggie’s pregnancy, and he felt utterly insulted at the idea of a pregnant woman sleeping outside in a trailer with thin metal walls.

Gregory hadn’t liked the idea of the three of you moving into ‘his house’ - Maggie already knew that his ego took up most of the Manor, but he seemed especially perturbed about the three of you in particular moving in. And when prodded on the manner, he awkwardly danced around the fact that he seemed uncomfortable with your polyamorous relationship. Maggie wasn’t surprised. Even with the society everyone once knew dead and gone, only those closest to you seemed to truly understand what the three of you had without mocking it or believing that it was purely sexual.

But Gregory’s annoyance and even anger toward you and Glenn only made it more satisfying for Maggie to fuck her two lovers in the new found comfort of the Manor’s bed, louder and louder, knowing that he might be kept awake at night by the noise and feel too awkward to say anything about it.

But right now, as she stood with her arms firmly crossed, glaring him down, Maggie knew that this wasn’t just about you or Glenn or even the comfort of her and her unborn child. This was about the other people in the community who didn’t need to be stuck outside in poorly insulated trailers during the winter, sleeping on makeshift cots for beds when there was a luxurious mansion sitting twenty feet away. Gregory had been selfish and petulant long enough - if the house was his last stand, the place where he truly drew a line, then he could be the one to sleep outside.

“This matter isn’t up for discussion, winter is coming up, and-” Maggie began, speaking firmly, but of course, she was cut off.

“You’re right! This isn’t up for discussion!” Gregory bolstered back. “I don’t need a bunch of… hoodlums running in and out, potentially breaking my priceless artifacts-”

Off to the side, you let out a harsh scoff.

Your annoyance was already thick in the air and Maggie wondered if she was going to regret bringing you into this meeting.

You were sitting in another one of the well padded chairs in the corner, your legs thrown over the arm of the chair in that care-free way that you always had about you. You gave Gregory a look that said you were amused, but tired of his bullshit, and Maggie wasn’t sure if she was thankful for the back-up or already tired at the thought that she might have to wrangle you away from a conflict with him. (Because historically, you had much less patience when it came to dealing with Gregory.)

“Newsflash, asshole. Literally everything is priceless now. There’s no money anymore. And the world has literally turned on its head, in case you haven’t noticed. So canned beans and bullets are far more valuable than any of this old crap that you have in here,”

To punctuate your point, you reached out one of your feet and with absolutely no hesitation, you knocked a vase off a nearby table. It was white with a blue pattern, and Maggie knew that it was likely one of those ‘priceless artifacts’ that Gregory had been talking about. It fell onto the floor and smashed into hundreds of tiny pieces, causing Gregory to jump out of his seat and stare at the mess as girlish gasp fell from his lips. Maggie pressed a firm hand to her forehead, already stressed out at the fact that she would have to mitigate the oncoming fight.

“It’s all meaningless-”

“That was Delftware!” Gregory shouted, turning red in the face with how viciously he raised his volume.

Maggie’s hand brushed over her gun, and she forced herself to clench her fist with patience, moving to stand between you and Gregory when he finally moved out from behind his desk to approach you - not that she thought he would be any threat to you. The man was all talk. But still, she put a hand in the middle of his chest to force him to keep his distance while he glared at you over her shoulder. She became even more aggravated at the fact that she could almost feel the way you were smirking back at him, even if she couldn’t see it.

“It’s just a damn vase, calm down.” Maggie told him, knowing that her annoyance wouldn’t do much to calm him down, but unable to hold back the words.

“Ca - calm down? Me? Calm down?” Gregory balked, looking at her, utterly insulted. “You come into my home, break my things, and-”

“And we tend your gardens to keep you fed, keep Walkers away, negotiate peace and trade with the other communities. Doesn’t Jesus do your laundry?” You added on, sass and impatience absolutely full in your voice. “If it wasn’t for Maggie and the people loyal to her, you would die naked and starving. But a pretty vase is more important, right?”

Maggie locked her jaw, resisting the urge to add onto your point and agree with you, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. She hoped that your words - words that nobody else had dared to speak aloud, at least not to Gregory’s face before - would finally sink in.

She wouldn’t find herself so lucky.

Instead, the man continued to gape at the two of you, looking dumbfounded and insulted, as if he truly could not believe what you were saying.

“I - I founded this community.” He said, going back to the only small leg he had to stand on. “I - uh. Are you going to let your little lackey talk to me this way?” He asked, turning to Maggie, as if hoping that she would dismiss you.

Before Maggie was forced to pick a side in the spat, you spoke up again.

“Are you stupid?” You asked, the words clearly directed at Gregory, sounding entirely casual and conversational, rather than intended to be a genuine insult.

“Excuse me?” Gregory gasped. “How dare that you insinuate that my intelligence is anything other than above average, I have a degree from-”

“It was just a question.” You shrugged. “I didn’t say ‘you are stupid’. I asked ‘are you stupid?’ - I was just wondering.”

Maggie sighed and rolled her eyes, turning to you.

“You. Hallway. Now.” She told you firmly, pointing a hand out toward the door, making an order that she hoped you would be smart enough not to refuse.

You gave her a small smirk that she knew too well - you had been playing it up, dancing on her last nerve on purpose. Then, something inside of her shifted. All the tired frustration that she had been feeling was like coal to a wicked fire, fueling her into a lustful beast. One that was set to attack you the second that she got you alone.

You got up out of your chair and moved into the hallway like she had told you to, your boots crunching over the bits of smashed porcelain that were still scattered across the floor.

“Oh thank god, please tell me that you’re going to punish that wretched beast of a girl.” Gregory sighed.

Maggie was planning on punishing you - but most definitely not in a way that Gregory would ever know about.

Maggie turned back to him, fixing him in her sharp gaze now.

“We are gonna start movin’ people into the bedrooms, whether you like it or not.” She said, making sure he knew that her decision was final. “If you don’t want to live in the house with other people, you can move into one of the trailers, or you can take your chances out on the road and try findin’ someplace else.”

“You’re being completely unreasonable-”

“And clean up that damn mess.” She said with finality as she moved to leave the room, slamming the door on his protests about how you should be forced to clean it up instead.

When she was alone in the hallway with you, her gaze fixed on you like a hungry lioness. You were caught in her crosshairs, and there was no way you were going to escape. (Not that you wanted to.)

You were leaning against one of the walls, perched there oh-so-casually, clearly waiting for her - maybe you weren’t clever enough to run away, not expecting the full measure of the wrath that she was about to bring onto you, or maybe you were eagerly awaiting it.

“Are you stupid?” Maggie barked at you, recycling your own words back onto you as a kind of taunt.

She crossed the hallway in three long strides, soon crowding into your personal space, and didn’t give you a moment to answer the question before she was devouring your mouth. She pinned you even tighter against the wall, completely uncaring of who might come across the two of you and see the utterly carnal exchange - nothing loving to mistake about it, gnashing teeth and panting breath, Maggie trying to devour you in a way that spoke of revenge. Clearly trying to shut you up, and you letting out precious little whimpers as you quickly became turned on by her powerful actions and struggled to keep up.

“I’m not stupid.” You huffed against her chin when she finally pulled back from your lips, looking you in the eyes with a fierce, demanding gaze once again. “Maybe I’m just bored, or-” You choked on a breath, the words dissolving off in your throat.

“What?” Maggie demanded.

She could see the thoughts swimming behind your eyes, something lethal and lustful, something you were almost afraid to say.

“Come on, speak up. Tell me, little bird.”

It was a nickname that made you weak, caused a whimper from deep in your chest - something that she had called you since the beginning of the relationship that made your pussy flutter and made your heart sing.

When your jaw quivered in hesitation and you still didn’t speak, Maggie reached up and harshly grabbed your nipple through your shirt - the peak already stuck off and visible through the thin fabric of your tee shirt, no bra in sight, making you even more of a tease in her eyes. She twisted harshly and wiggled her hold on the sensitive point for a prolonged moment, trying to force words out of you. You let out a small whine, and finally folded to her whims, divulging that secret desire.

“I - I can’t stop thinking about how good you look cause you’re all knocked up,” You said, your voice edging on a whisper, trying to keep it as a secret just between the two of you.

Your hands came forward and cradled her hips - hips that were now wider than they used to be thanks to the epic hunger the pregnancy had given her, something that made you and Glenn proud to satisfy as her providers while she was so busy providing for everyone else. Initially, the weight gain and the way her body changed in make-up (the fact that she was now more curvy than she ever had been) made her feel self conscious, made her feel a bit alien in her own skin. Especially when she had asked Glenn to get her bigger jeans on one of his last scavenging runs.

But now - Maggie’s insides were burning hotter than they had in weeks, raging with confidence and power and sheer need, and what you said cranked the fire up to a full blown inferno.

“I can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you look.” You said, digging your thumbs into the spot right above the waistband of her jeans, creating an intense tingle across her skin. “I… I wanna be gorgeous like that too.”

The last words came out in a tiny, shy croak, and Maggie almost thought she was mistaken by your meaning - were you saying that you wanted to be pregnant too?

“Say it.” Maggie commanded, stroking a sharp thumb across your cheek and your bottom lip, loving the absolutely enraptured, glassy look in your eyes already. “Say it, little bird.”

“I wanna get pregnant.” You told her, your throat tight around the words as you became swallowed up by your own lust, the statement delivering a beautiful gut punch to Maggie’s stomach.

Her mind was instantly flooded with images of Glenn fucking into you furiously at her command, pulling out - his cock red and raw, drooling and wet with a combination of your cum and his, leaving your cunt used and leaking. Maggie would shove that cum back up inside of you with her fingers to make sure that it took, forcing tears from your eyes as you whined and complained about how sore you were - but it was what you asked for. Your body needed to be fucked and used and filled if you wanted a baby.

She conjured up mental images of your tits swollen and aching, holding them in her hands and feeling how heavy they were, getting to grope all over your body to feel how big and beautiful you were becoming with Glenn’s baby growing inside of you.

And of course, the sentimental part took hold, and she realized that it meant that your kids would grow up close in age. They would be half-siblings biologically - just like her and Beth. It was a needy chime that clanged in her heart that instantly needed to be answered. If you wanted to be pregnant, then Maggie would make it happen.

And then, another stroke of genius flashed into her mind.

She grabbed your wrist and dragged you toward the stairs, and along the way, she spotted something hanging on the railing that would definitely help her in her quest - Jesus had left one of the ropes for the horses bundled up there, so Maggie grabbed it in her free hand and continued hauling you along forcefully behind her.

She smiled widely to herself when she arrived at the end of the hallway and pushed you in through Gregory’s bedroom doorway. He didn’t want people ruining his precious house. Fuck him. Maggie was going to ruin his damn bed.

She followed in behind you and slammed the door shut behind her, and you stared at her with lustful awe in your eyes.

“Uh - Mags, don’t we need Glenn for this part?” You asked, feeling a bitter thrill run up your spine as you watched her take out her knife and cut off a short length of the rope with it.

Maggie let out a dark chuckle - one that made your pussy clench and scared you a little at the same time. She put away her knife, walked over to you, and shoved you down onto the bed with a surprising force. Not that it would take much to topple you when you were this dizzy with lust, shaking with anticipation.

“Darling girl, you still need to be punished for what you did downstairs,” She told you, giving you a dark look.

You choked on a moan and felt yourself most definitely getting wetter - this was what you had been hoping for all afternoon. You were absolutely pliant to her actions when she flipped you onto your stomach and brought both your hands behind your back, tying your wrists together with the abrasive rope that most definitely wasn’t meant for this - it rubbed against your skin in a harsh way that lit up your nerves and somehow, turned you on even more.

Your stomach churned with anticipation and your breath came out in hot pants, and you quickly became dizzier by the second as you wondered what she was going to do to you.

“Just because that old fucker is an awful, thick-skulled, stupid man doesn’t mean that you get to go around actin’ like a rude brat,” Maggie told you, reaching for the waistband of your jeans and your underwear at the same time, harshly pulling the fabric down over your ass, leaving your drooling cunt exposed to the open air in seconds.

You clenched around nothing, feeling more wetness leak out of you, and you knew that she could see it - just how embarrassingly needy and wet you were for her.

“If you can behave yourself through this, then maybe - maybe I’ll go get Glenn and let him stuff your little pussy so you can get your wish, alright?”

You let out a sharp moan at this, and nodded furiously.

“But if you keep actin’ like a damn brat, then I’ll probably have him fuck your ass for practice instead and you won’t even get to cum at all,”

You let out a louder moan - strangely enough, this idea turned you on even more, even though it was entirely counter-productive to your goals. But you remembered the feeling of his cock in your ass from past experiences.

Back at the quarry camp in Atlanta when he brought you back lube from one of his runs to call you out on something he thought was a joke, and you ended up pinned against a tree with his whimpers huffing in your ear, loving the feeling of his cum running down your leg after he pulled out, laughing about how you were ‘crazy’ and it was a ‘weird first date’ (which, it was). Back before the two of you had Maggie - back before the two of you realized that the crazy sex would actually lead to something more.

The memory alone caused more wetness to leak out of you - which Maggie wiped up with two fingers that she promptly shoved inside you with a sharp jab, absolutely no gentleness or warning. The touch lit up your insides with that rough, beautiful feeling, causing your hips to seize up off the bed toward her, instantly seeking more of the friction, more of the fullness.

“God, you are such a little whore,” She taunted you, beginning to fuck you with those two fingers in quick, aggressive strokes.

“I - I’ll be good,” You choked out, turning your head so that your words wouldn’t be lost against the sheets. “I’ll be good, I swear!”

“Yeah?” She taunted you, her voice melting into that fake, honey-sweet tone that turned you on far too much. “You gonna be a good whore? You gonna be a good little whore instead of a dumb fucking brat?”

Then, without any warning, she brought her free hand down onto you in a vicious slap - spanking you harshly across the ass cheek. You let out a moan - enjoying the mixture of bright pain that tingled across your skin and the blinding, sharp pleasure that came from inside of you where she was still fucking you with her fingers, absolutely relentless. She was quickly melting you, turning you into the pliant, submissive, easy girl that she knew you could be.

She was powerful like that. She could have you exactly where she wanted you within minutes.

“Are you gonna earn it?”

She said, her voice becoming slightly breathless from the efforts, but still utterly commanding and powerful in the room - especially past the sounds of you whining and the wet slapping of your pussy under her fingers, being played like a piano for her. Another smack came across your ass from her another hand and you let out another pathetic moan.

“Are you gonna earn the right to be knocked up?”

“Yes!” You cried out in return. “Yes, Mommy!”

“Good girl.”

…

“I need to talk to you.”

Glenn had absolutely no clue what he had done to warrant such a harsh tone from Maggie - firm, demanding, serious. It was her work voice. It was her bossy voice - her ‘something is going down’ voice.

Glenn knew that Maggie had a meeting with Gregory that morning - the man still demanded to be let in on certain ‘matters’, even though, thanks to Maggie, and Jesus, and Sasha, he had very little control over what went on in the small settlement anymore. But he knew how to push Maggie’s buttons, a lot. So either she was pissed off because of something Gregory had done, or something bad was happening.

Glenn found himself unable to move, pure fear struck into him due to the tone of her voice alone, and the stern expression that was knit across her face. He had been picking through a large wooden carriage of goods dropped off by The Kingdom, sorting out a trade haul of both fresh and salvaged items that The Hilltop would need to feed everyone.

Maggie added on even more firmly:

“In private. Now.”

Roused to action by the urgency of her words, Glenn clattered behind her nervously, then, drawn to her bossy energy like a moth to a flame. Usually, it was something that turned him on, now, it was just putting a terrible anxiety deep in his gut. He pattered behind her confident strides with his usual quick steps, wondering what the hell was going on.

Since Maggie had become the unofficial leader of Hilltop, her days had been packed with a busy schedule that caused a lot of stress. Naturally, Gregory felt betrayed when ‘his’ people constantly chose her and looked to her for leadership, especially when going through conflicts with the Saviors that ultimately ended in a peaceful unification after Negan had been jailed. (Gregory had felt even more sour when he had chosen the wrong side, and still, Maggie and Rick had chosen to save his life.)

So these days he mostly just sequestered himself off in his office and drank and pretended that he was actually the one making decisions for the community when everyone looked to Maggie for true leadership.

This meant that Maggie was the truly busy one - she was the one making decisions about food, building more shelters for the growing community, trading with the other communities around them, how to deal with Walkers and potential threats like the Saviours (should those threats come up), medical care. Her days were packed with meetings, gardening to ensure the security of the food supply, and often, traveling off to the other communities to have more meetings. All while she was dealing with the hormones from her pregnancy.

She was adorably round as she entered her second trimester, her stomach just starting to show the cute pouch of a true baby bump - something that distracted Glenn increasingly as the days went on and made him smile. (That, along with the fact that her breasts were definitely growing and her ass was most definitely getting wider. Something she complained about that he found… viciously temping.) While she was busy taking care of the entire community, he was trying his best to take care of her - always chasing her down to eat and trying to make sure that she got the right amount of sleep.

And he was worried that something big and terrible had happened now - something that would cause her and the baby far too much stress.

When they arrived at the main house, Glenn wasn’t surprised when the large sitting room off to the side was closed off, Gregory clearly having closed himself in, sulking again. Maggie tightly grabbed his hand and began literally dragging him up the stairs, causing him to stumble over his own feet as she raced a bit faster than he could keep up.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, tripping over the edge of one of the fancy long rugs lining the intricately decorated hallways. “Is someone dead?” He dared to ask. “Did I do something? Am I in trouble? Maggie, come on-”

She shoved him inside the largest bedroom at the end of the hall - a room that Glenn could have sworn belonged to Gregory. But he couldn’t bring himself to care at all when Maggie quickly pulled the door shut behind them, locked it, and then yanked him close with two fingers tucked into his belt.

He barely had a moment to think before her mouth was on his, smothering him with an intense heat that he had missed so damn badly, even though it had only been two days since the last time they had fucked.

Oh. The state of her urgency and need for privacy truly clicked into his brain. Oh, fuck.

Glenn let out a sharp moan into her mouth - one that was only amplified when she pushed her tongue forcefully past his lips and reached for his belt. She swiftly unbuckled it and unzipped his jeans, reaching into the fly to forcefully grope his cock through his underwear, bringing him to full hardness so quickly that his head began to spin.

He let out another thick groan that was quickly swallowed by her perfect mouth - his mind was melting so quickly that he felt like he was frying inside of a giant pan, but he truly didn’t care. Her touch was just too good - all of it was just too good.

Glenn almost swore that he could taste the sharp tang of pussy in her mouth, a brightness that made him crave and want even more, that made him dizzy and pliant to her, but that would mean that you -

“Mommy?”

Glenn’s stomach jolted when he heard a pathetic moan that wasn’t his own, and Maggie parted far enough from him to allow his head to veer off toward the sound with horny curiosity flashing brightly through him.

Surely enough, there you were.

He wasn’t even sure when he had closed his eyes, but when he managed to peel them open, he discovered an utterly filthy sight that he was sure Maggie had left there just for him to enjoy.

You were propped against the bed, your cheek pressed against the expensive silk comforter, your mouth wide open and drooling, clearly already fucked out. Your hands were tied behind your back with a rough braided rope that was typically used on the horses, one that was abrasive on your skin and would surely leave marks that would last for days or even weeks and would be obvious to everyone. Hell, those kinds of marks might even be alarming to some people who didn’t know about the rumors of your ‘behind closed doors’ activities if you didn’t wear long sleeves in the coming days.

Your feet were still planted firmly on the floor, leaving your ass exposed to the open air, your stomach leaning on the edge of the bed, with your jeans hastily ripped down to your knees - clearly, Maggie had been in just as much of an urgent rush with you too. The skin of your ass cheeks was bright and raw, already bruising slightly in some places - obviously, Maggie had delivered a vicious spanking to you over something you had done that had displeased her.

If you had sat through your punishment well, perhaps taking Glenn’s cock would be your reward. Glenn’s body tingled with pleasure at the thought.

Especially because your cunt was so pretty and used - clearly Maggie had been playing with it while she had been spanking you. You were so wonderfully raw, spread open and puffed with blood and absolutely drunk with your wetness. The glistening slick spread all over your cute pussy hair and leaking down to slick up your thighs, your hole clenching with anticipation - clearly, you hated the emptiness. (Glenn yearned to march over there and thrust inside of you, filling you up - but he was absolutely not mistaken about the fact that Maggie was in charge.)

He was instantly struck with a mental image of Maggie forcing you onto the bed, tying your hands behind your back and then shoving her face into your cunt - alternating between forcefully fucking you open with her fingers and spanking your ass until you were crying out for her to stop.

Her arms had gotten so strong from the farm work, long hours digging holes with shovels with no heavy machinery to help the process along, lifting heavy bags of fertilizer even when Glenn insisted she shouldn’t, carrying large buckets of water - Glenn would be lying if he said that the fact that she could pin him down so easily didn’t turn him on.

The mental image somehow made him even more turned on than he already was. And of course, with perfect timing, Maggie gave another harsh grope to his cock and ravenously bit at his neck. He had a feeling that if anymore blood rushed away from his brain to rapidly fill up his dick and balls, he would likely soon pass out - but then the idea of Maggie simply not caring and using him as an unconscious fucktoy turned him on even more in a wickedly depraved way.

“Y/N,” Glenn panted out your name, already struggling to breathe.

You flailed on the bed slightly, looking like a fish struggling on dry land because of the difficult position Maggie had left you in with your hands trapped behind your back (your body likely jelly and tired from one orgasm having rocked you, if not a few by now). Eventually, you managed to crane your head enough to see him, and you let out a little wicked laugh when you saw that Maggie was mauling his neck and already had his pants down over his thighs.

“Glenn!” You called back breathlessly in return. “You should have run when you had the chance, dude! These pregnancy hormones are making her fucking insane,”

There was a wicked kind of delight to your voice - and Glenn wasn’t quite sure what the sentiment behind your words was; if you truly felt like he would regret this because Maggie was too wound up to be reasoned with (which could very well be the case). Or if you wanted to keep her all to yourself because you could be a sucker for punishment at times, and you liked her when she was at her most ‘insane’. Glenn had seen how sometimes, you loved to tease Maggie just to drive her ‘insane’ so that she would spank you and overstimulate you until you nearly passed out.

Glenn, on the other hand, was softer. And typically, he enjoyed one or two rounds of playful sex or even making love - so perhaps your warning was a bit of both. Perhaps you knew that Glenn couldn’t quite handle Maggie when she was like this, but you could.

At your words, Maggie scoffed and pulled away from Glenn’s skin, and before he could truly miss the sensation of her soft lips sucking on him, he became intrigued by what she did next. She moved to grab his belt, swiftly pulling it out of the loops of his jeans, now wielding the leather in her hands in a way that was all too familiar - a weapon. It was something she had used against you before.

“Why do you always have to be such a goddamn brat?”

She scolded you sharply, and then, she stepped toward you, holding on tight to one end of the belt - Glenn watched with a delightful knot in his stomach as she wound her arm back, and he realized a moment too late that the end she was whipping toward you was the end with the metal buckle attached to it.

“Mommy-”

“Shut up!” She hissed at you in the same moment that the metal struck across your skin, creating a sharp welt across the width of one of your ass cheeks, causing you to yelp and jolt away from the sensation, and unmistakably - causing a fresh wave of hot slick to gush out of your cunt.

“Jesus, Maggie, the buckle!” Glenn spoke up, alarmed.

He couldn’t help it, it was just his nature. Even if you relaxed your muscles and moaned in pleasure moments after the hit washed over you, and you didn’t make any verbal protests. You knew that, even as ‘insane’ as Maggie was, there was always room for you to do so if you needed to. Glenn always had your best interests at heart. Again, he was just soft like that.

“She’s fine. You know she’s a pain lovin’ whore.”

Maggie scoffed again, rolling her eyes. But then, something else struck her, causing her hot streak to be turned toward him as she dropped the belt onto the floor with a dull ‘clank’.

“Wait - what did you just call me?”

“I - uh-”

Glenn began to stutter, and instinctively backed up when Maggie charged toward him, almost tripping over his own pants (which had now fallen down around his ankles). But he was quickly stopped in his tracks when Maggie grabbed him by the cock again - taking a firm, deadly hold on his cock and balls through his underwear, causing him to freeze deadly still when her sharp, untrimmed nails dug into his flesh oh-so-slightly.

He wasn’t one for pain, but for some reason, it sent a perfect tingle through him, and made his cock throb so perfectly. It sent an epic rush of adrenaline through him and he puffed a hot breath into her face while she stared him down with an utterly predatory gaze, and behind her, he could see you flailing again, desperately trying to see what was going on over your shoulder.

“What did you call me?” Maggie repeated, firmer, fiercer this time.

“Your name.” He wheezed out, knowing that he sounded utterly pathetic.

“No, that is not my name.” She replied, annoyance twinging into her voice. “Not here. Not when we’re alone. Now come on - what is my name? What are you supposed to call me?”

Glenn, growing dizzier with lust by the second, knew that there was only one correct answer.

“Mommy.”

He whined in reply, grateful when she released her death grip on his cock and smoothed a more forgiving touch across his shaft through the fabric, causing him to let out a tiny weep of precum in response. He shuddered and let out a whimper and he absolutely did not miss her utterly satisfied cat-like smirk as she turned back to you, giving him one last glance over her shoulder - naturally, with more dominating words.

“Get undressed. You have work to do.”

Glenn knew that the instructions were simple and certain for a reason - they were meant to be followed without question. Just like her place in the rest of the world, when Maggie picked out a job for him in their relationship, she assigned it to him with finite simplicity, and it was always best not to question her leadership.

(He had realized a bit too late that she had decided to get pregnant before he even considered it an option, and he was just happily fucked dumb and too pleased to question why he was allowed to cum inside of her beautiful pussy now.)

Glenn rushed to undo the buttons of his shirt with clumsy hands, still eagerly watching as Maggie went back over to you, clearly not done with you yet. She raised her hand up, and laid a harsh, open-handed spank across your ass, specifically targeting the harsh welt that the belt buckle had left on your skin to maximize the jolt of pain that went through you.

It definitely worked, according to the wail you let out and the way your body seized up off the bed. Even though Glenn wasn’t someone usually turned on by pain, he couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed and let out another thick bead of precum, especially when you choked on a moan as she smoothed her warm hands over your skin, coddling you in turn with the harsh pain.

“Maggie-” You whined, making the same mistake that Glenn had earlier, earning you another sharp smack - one that had her wedding ring grazing across your skin sharply in a way that made you squeal.

“Are you stupid?” She barked, quickly moving two fingers back to your gaping cunt and shoving them inside without any gentleness, fucking into your raw hole so quickly that you saw stars. “Or are you tryna piss me off again? Huh?”

“‘m sorry, sorry! Ah!”

“What? I’m sorry, darlin’, I can’t hear you!” Maggie replied in a sing-song type voice, clearly teasing you as she continued to viciously fuck your cunt, digging her nails into the flesh of your ass with the other hand, waiting for you to say the magic words - or rather, the one magic word she wanted to hear.

Glenn’s insides jumped at the pure, filthy ‘squelch’ that rang out through the air, his tongue becoming fat in his mouth as he yearned to push between your thighs and taste that wetness. He raced to tear his feet out of the mess of fabric around his ankles, kicking off his shoes, finally getting out of his remaining clothing to be fully naked and free. He deeply resisted the urge to reach down and touch his throbbing cock where it jutted out from his pelvis, heavy, aching and needy, because he knew that would only get him scolded and put him on Maggie’s bad side. He knew that if he wanted to cum tonight, he should stay on her good side.

He moved forward to stand behind Maggie, eagerly looking over her shoulder and down at you as he waited for her next direction, drinking in the sight of her two fingers jabbing into your pussy with no mercy.

“I’m sorry, Mommy!” You cried out in return, finally giving her what she wanted.

“Better.” She sighed, pulling her fingers out - clearly, she had never been fucking your pussy with the intention of making you cum, but simply playing with you like the toy that you were, winding you up for her own enjoyment.

She leaned down and left a sharp, sudden bite on your ass, right on that same already sore spot, enjoying the scream you let out - another beautifully pathetic sound that only served to remind her of the power she held over you.

She then reached to her belt, going for the knife that she always kept there. For a moment, Glenn thought that she might cut the rope and finally free your wrists - but she surprised him when she used a hold on your arm to turn you over until you were resting on your back.

Once again, moving with utter certainty, she brought the blade to the bottom of your tee shirt and began slicing, easily tearing the fabric in half until your entire body was exposed - leaving your bare chest heaving as you let out a wild moan, far too turned on by the act of her cutting your clothes off you.

“Fuck, Mommy-” You breathed out, now most definitely in that buttery, utterly subservient headspace that Maggie needed you to be in.

“You gonna be a good little whore?” Maggie asked with a smirk, putting her knife back into its holster.

Before you had time to answer, she reached out a sharply twisted one of your nipples, causing you to let out a pathetic wail, arching into the touch.

“Ah! Yes! Yes, Mommy!” You replied, quivering and entirely subservient to her. “I’m yours. I’m good - I’ll be good. Please.”

Glenn’s skin was tingling with the feeling lingering in the air, drool easily pooling in his mouth just from getting to witness this. He was surprised when a small gasp escaped his lips as Maggie delivered a small smack to one of your tits, truly driving home her power with a little bit of extra pain, having you moaning and pressing your tits into the air, eager for more.

“Good.” Maggie said firmly. “Mommy’s glad you’re finally ready to be filled up.”

Glenn was more than eager and willing, but he should have been slightly afraid when Maggie reached back to the ground and grabbed his belt once again.

He should have been anticipating that what came next was going to drive him beyond his limits, but truly - he was far too turned on to care.

…

Not much later, Glenn found himself flat on his back in the middle of the bed, his hands tangled up and bound by the leather of his belt. He was tied to one of the slats on the fancy wooden headboard, with you completely divested of any remaining clothing and perched above him, your hands still tied behind your back, meaning that both of you had absolutely no control over the situation. Exactly how Maggie preferred things.

Maggie had manhandled you into place with that perfect, well-worked strength of hers and hadn’t hesitated to perch you right on top of Glenn’s cock, forcing you to sink down on top of his thick, eight-inch length - so now you were surrounding him like a wonderful, wet, hot sleeve. It was a feeling that had driven him insane within seconds.

Of course, you were clumsy and had practically no control, even though you were the one on top of him. You could do nothing with your arms tight behind your back and your legs weak from Maggie’s earlier brutal fucking of your pussy. You could do nothing but let her guide you. With her hands firm on your hips, she was using you like a perfect doll, like a fleshlight on Glenn’s cock, hammering you down onto his pelvis.

And though he was blind to how long it had been since you had sunk down onto his cock (he certainly wasn’t timing it and wasn’t keeping an eye on any one of the antique clocks in the room, not with your gorgeous tits swaying in front of his face) - it felt like it had been hours of brutal heat gripping him, smothering him in a private desert that had covered him in a thick sheen of sweat and made his muscles ache from the effort.

He was already swimming in a puddle of his own cum, his heavy balls already soaked and sloppy slick, making everything sound even filthier every single time Maggie dropped you down on top of him once again, making him feel gross in a way that somehow turned him on. He couldn’t help but to love every second of this - his mind hazy, his mouth wide open as he panted like a dog, desperate for air, your tits bouncing in his face as you moved on top of him with just as much desperation, chanting in quiet mumbles under your breath.

“Fill me up, fill me up, fuck-”

Somehow, he was still iron hard inside of you from the sheer demand of your hot pussy squeezing him, from Maggie’s beautiful southern voice going on, and on, telling the both of you exactly what she wanted.

“He’s gonna fill you up so good,” Maggie said, petting a hand across Glenn’s stomach in a sweet way that made his aching muscles melt. “Aren’t you, honey? Yeah? You’re gonna fill our girl up so good - gonna fill up this little pussy til she can’t take anymore,”

His cock was almost in pain at this point, and he almost felt like a prisoner, tied up and trapped underneath you with Maggie’s piercing eyes staring at him over your shoulder. But he realized that this was the best place in the world to be trapped. It was a smothering heat, a stinging pain that drove him insane. But it was where he was needed - it was a demand from two of the finest women in the world, a need for him, for his cock - a need that nobody else could ever fill. If it made Glenn a prisoner, then he would serve a life sentence and be a Walker chained up for the two of you to mock and admire as some kind of sick ornament and he would be happy about it.

It was the best kind of torture he could have ever imagined.

“Fuck, it hurts,”

Glenn whined, his head utterly dizzy - he wasn’t even sure if it was a complaint or not, simply a statement of fact. It was a point of awe as a jolt of sharp pleasure-pain zapped through his rod-hard cock and somehow - he found himself loving it, found himself letting out a sharp whine and jostling his hips up into your heat, seeking more of that delicious, deadly feeling.

“Aww, darlin, it’s almost like you’re new at this,”

Maggie replied, tossing him a grin.

She reached around a pinched one of your nipples, and you arched into the touch, and Glenn found his jaw lolling open in a sharp pant, his neck arching forward automatically with the urge to taste, the need to lap over that delicious, plump skin. But he was tied down with his arms stretched high above his head and unable to reach, and if he had any brain left in his head at all, he would have known that he must have looked like a foolish, dumb dog chasing after a treat that he couldn’t have.

“I get what I want.” Maggie continued on. “And what I want - is for this sweet little bitch to be pregnant. By tonight.” Maggie grabbed your cheeks sharply on both sides to emphasize the point, and you let out a whine in response. “So you’re gonna get your job done, Glenn. You’re gonna breed her up good, or I’m gonna leave the two of ya tied up here til it’s done - got it?”

Glenn huffed out a breath - the mental image of you pregnant, especially pregnant alongside Maggie, both of you round together, with swollen breasts and glowing skin and… both of you having his babies, both of you needy for his cock, waking him up in the middle of the night, just as demanding as Maggie had been over the past few weeks. It was just as terrifying and dizzying as it was absolutely thrilling.

“I want it.” You moaned out, your voice echoing and frantic. “I want it, I want it, I want it! Please, Glenn!”

You looked down at him with tears glassy across your eyes, your utter desperation punching him in the gut.

You really wanted to get pregnant. You really wanted to get pregnant with his baby.

Fuck.

“Promise her.” Maggie barked. “Promise her that you’re gonna knock her up!”

She then lightly smacked Glenn across the thigh behind you, jolting him into action.

“Fuck, ah!” Glenn gasped. “I promise. I promise, Y/N. I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll give you as many babies as you want, I swear.”

He wished that he could have pulled you close to kiss you as a way of sealing his promise, an in that silent way that she always understood him, Maggie grabbed you harshly by the hair and shoved you down toward Glenn, pressing your tits tightly up against his chest as she shoved your mouth into his in a messy, sloppy, somehow very heart-warming kiss. Glenn moaned into your mouth and you shoved your tongue past his lips, entirely eager to taste him.

“You’re gonna look so gorgeous when you’re all knocked up, little bird.” Maggie whispered in your ear. “Such a pretty little breeding bitch for us,”

All too soon, she yanked you away from Glenn’s mouth with that hold on your hair, and the harsh tugging on your roots causing a delightful spike of pain combined with her filthy words sent your body spiralling towards the edge.

“Fuck, Mommy!”

You choked on a moan and Glenn felt you spasming around him, your hips grinding non-rhythmically on his cock in sharp jumps - fuck, you were cumming. You were cumming just from the idea of him knocking you up.

And fuck - he was cumming again too.

Glenn let out a grunt from deep within his chest and instinctively fucked himself up into you in a few sharp pumps. But at this point, when the hot flood came spilling from his cock, mixing with your overflowing wetness and his own previous loads of cum, he couldn’t even tell where the new mess began and the old mess ended. It was all just stickiness and filth at this point.

There was a single, tiny moment where he thought that his dick just might give up - where his body might forcibly black out and that he would wake up later, inevitably in this same position of utterly beautiful torture. But instead, a sharp, tingling pain ran across his skin and developed into a mild muscle cramp in his pelvis, and he remained rock-hard inside of you, once again squeezed by your gorgeous, wet, warm pussy while Maggie kept grinding you down across his filthy wet pubic hair.

“Fuck, fuck, Mommy - I’m so full, I’m so full-”

You stuttered out, your eyes shut and your words slurring with a kind of drunkenness as your head tipped back to rest on Maggie’s shoulder - she looked at you with a unique, utterly satisfied, near villainous expression as she smoothly petted away some stray hairs from your face. Her breasts were heaving inside of her shirt and Glenn could just imagine how wet she was inside of her jeans.

“Well, that’s the point, little bird.” She told you softly, her voice a coo that was edging on teasing once again. “You’re s’pose to get all full til you’re little cunt can’t take anymore… get all bred up and give Mommy another baby.”

Glenn let out a growl at these words - his brain utterly possessed by the idea that yes, it was Maggie’s baby. It was his baby. It was your baby, just like the baby inside of her was yours. The three of you so utterly interconnected that you might as well be handcuffed together on a daily basis.

Maggie put a firm hand on your lower belly, as if to demonstrate her point, as if willing Glenn’s cum to take, to get you pregnant right then and there. You arched into the touch, inadvertently grinding yourself against him in a way that drove him even more insane.

“I need it, fuck, I need it,” You mumbled out ravenously. “I need to be full, I to be bred, please,”

Somewhere along the way, Glenn had realized that this was about revenge.

Maggie wanted to fuck in Gregory’s bed to get back at him. Jesus wouldn’t let her kill him, not without good reason. Especially not since tentative peace had been established with the Saviours - he went on about how ‘no more bloodshed’ was necessary, and in a way, as annoying as he found Gregroy, Glenn agreed.

So Maggie found other ways to get back at him. She had you and Jesus drink his good scotch to reward the two of you for all your hard work, and she would dilute the bottles with water when the two of you were done. Then she would quietly laugh whenever the man droned on about how good a ‘finely aged’ drink tasted, clearly knowing that his unrefined palette could not taste the difference between actually good scotch and the watered down bullshit that she had left him. She snuck Rick and Daryl some of his fine cigars when they arrived with trade items, and when he asked why the count was lower when he remembered, she acted clueless and told him that his count must have been off.

But this was the most brazen she had ever been with her taunting of Gregory.

Some part of Glenn knew that she had absolutely no intentions of changing the sheets - that a great part of her satisfaction would come from leaving dried cum all over his fine linens and either forcing him to clean it up himself (leaving him with the awkward, embarrassing knowledge of what it was). Or letting him be foolish enough to sleep in it if he somehow didn’t notice it. With Maggie always knowing that he was sleeping on the same mattress where Glenn had fucked a baby into you (if he got it right on the first try, which - he didn’t think he was going to miss with this much of his cum stuffed inside of you now).

And somehow, that thought turned him on, too.

Maggie reached down behind you and Glenn let out a very undignified wail when she groped his balls - the skin was slick with your wetness, but he was already so sore, his body so spent and used. The touch sent a sensation through his body, rocking him with overwhelming pleasure - he wasn’t sure how he remained conscious at that point.

“Got anymore for me?” She asked, giving him a wicked grin. “Huh? You gonna be a good boy for me ‘n fill our girl up some more?”

“Jesus,” Glenn hissed, intensely overwhelmed - between Maggie’s words, her touch, and the clench of your cunt around him once again as Maggie’s other hand reached up to tweak your nipple - her question was truly answered.

Like a man possessed, Glenn choked on a breath and garbled spit, somehow shooting another load into your already well used, very wet pussy. Maggie hummed in a pleased tone, and then, seemingly, planted her hands on your hips with the purpose of finally moving you off Glenn.

But she was disrupted by a knock on the door. The sound shook Glenn with anxiety - up until that moment, he had been so perfectly stuck in a bubble where only you, him, and Maggie existed, and hadn’t even thought about the consequences of getting caught.

“Hey, uh - Maggie?” Jesus’s very timid voice came from the other side of the door. Usually he wasn’t shy, but… god, he must have heard what was going on behind the closed door, making him incredibly hesitant to interrupt. “Sasha just arrived with those panels for the greenhouse that you wanted, and she wants to go over the plans again, so… do you mind coming downstairs?”

“Be right there!” Maggie called back.

Much to Glenn’s horror, she climbed off the bed, leaving you to drop back onto Glenn’s cock firmly. You let out another harsh noise as he sank deep inside of you again and Glenn practically saw stars as his body shook with overstimulation. Maggie didn’t look back in your direction - she crossed the room to the door (leaving behind the flannel she had been wearing as an outer shirt, now only in a thin tank top) and her boots, and she scooted out the door, closing it behind her quickly, as to not let any wandering eyes peek inside.

But this left you and Glenn, tied up, stuck together - his cock still fully seated inside of you. (He was willing himself to go soft, to relax, but it was incredibly difficult with you squirming on top of him and making those pretty little noises as you did so, your tits heaving with every breath, your blissful, fucked-out face still right there in his line of sight, your heat still fully gripping his aching, sore dick. Fuck.)

“Can - can you get off me?” Glenn choked out, absolutely no power in his voice, meek and whimpery as ever.

“I’m trying.” You moaned back weakly, still squirming. Your thighs were quivering terribly and your knees were shaking as you tried to lift yourself up, your arms absolutely no help to give you leverage while they were held hostage with the rough rope behind your back. “It’s not my fault I’m stuck on a full seven inches over here.”

“Eight.” Glenn mumbled back in return. (He wasn’t even being cocky with the correction, not in his opinion. It was simply factual.)

“Now is not the time, pizza boy.” You grumbled in complaint, letting out another weak whimper when you accidentally caused his tip to graze across a partially weak spot inside of you, causing more wetness to flood out around the base of his cock - something he definitely felt, and hated how it made his cock throb sorely.

“Fuck, stop that!” He growled at you.

“Stop? Stop what? Stop trying to get up like you fucking told me to?” You replied, annoyed - Maggie had been gone for about a minute, and you had already developed back into a mean brat. No surprise there. “Make up your fucking mind, Glenn, because I know that you’re whiny and overstimulated, but I could sit on your cock all day if I wanted to-”

Your empty threat was quickly cut off when the bedroom door swung open again, and Maggie charged back inside.

“You know, I should make you do it.” Maggie said, clearly having heard your words.

Both you and Glenn craned your necks to look at her as she sat in one of the large cushioned armchairs and began putting on her boots, all graceful confidence and power, every single move calculated and elegant - making the two of you wait with baited breath before she spoke again.

“You’re such a goddamn brat - I should make you stay there, stuffed full until I come back to get you.”

“Maggie, please.” Glenn begged quietly, trying to appeal to her - giving her his best puppy eyes, trying to remind her that he had done nothing wrong.

She let out a harsh sigh, defeated, unable to resist that look from him.

When she stood up from the chair, she finally came over and grabbed you with an arm around your waist, hoisting you off Glenn - the two of you parting made the filthiest sound, slick and wet as his cock slapped down onto his stomach. You were left gaping, a flood of cum instantly leaking out of you and making a mess over your thighs and across the bed, exactly as Maggie had wanted.

Glenn found himself enraptured by the sight - especially when you inevitably clenched your pussy around the empty feeling and more of his cum spilled out of you.

Maggie couldn’t help herself - she reached out and used two fingers to push the mess back into you, causing you to whimper weakly as the intrusion prodded against your swollen, well-used walls.

“I should fuck you again.” Maggie whispered against your ear, a hot threat as she shoved her fingers deep inside of you, rough and unforgiving. “I should teach you a lesson for mouthin’ off to Glenn. But - I do have a meeting to get to.”

You let out a sigh of relief when she pulled her fingers out of you, and then reached for her knife, finally moving to cut the rope holding your wrists giving your now very sore arms some room to move and stretch. Maggie then moved to untie Glenn, and instinctively, when he saw the raw skin of your wrists from the rough texture of the rope, he couldn’t help but to bring your hand up and kiss across your wrist, wanting to soothe it a bit, even if just emotionally.

“You’re too soft with her.” Maggie scolded him, no real heat behind it. “That’s why she’s such a brat.”

“Maybe.” Glenn shrugged in reply, giving you a small smile, which you easily returned.

You wanted to make a comment about how you were a brat because you liked to see how far you could push Maggie - but you held the words in.

“Go get cleaned up,” Maggie told Glenn, picking up his pants and pushing them into his hands, and then shoving him toward the attached ensuite bathroom. He was quick to move, following her instructions. “I have a long afternoon ahead of me, yammering on about the goddamn greenhouse plans - so unfortunately I can’t just leave the two of you alone in here.”

“You ruined my shirt,” You whined, moving to pick up your pants and looking at the pile of shredded fabric that had once been your shirt with sad eyes.

“I’ll get you a new one.” Maggie replied easily.

When you moved to walk around her, going to use the bathroom to clean the (vast amount of) cum off you, Maggie put a hand in the middle of your still very sweaty chest, stopping you.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook just cause I have things to attend to.” She said, locking you in that firm gaze once again.

You caught Glenn’s eye behind her shoulder, and he held in laughter. He genuinely wondered what you had done earlier that day to deserve such a punishment. But he was just glad to be an observer on the sidelines rather than someone at the end of Maggie’s clever lustful wrath.

…

For the rest of the day, you received strange looks from everyone who was at Hilltop, trying to go about their day, doing their chores, because you were walking as though you had just gotten off a particularly long, painful horse ride.

Maybe it was the few extra, vicious strikes to the ass that Maggie had given you when you had complained about the punishment that she was sentencing you to, or maybe it was the punishment itself. That punishment being - stuffing a large plug inside if you in an attempt to keep Glenn’s cum in, and not letting you wash up so that you wouldn’t waste a single drop, wouldn’t wash any of his precious spend down the drain.

But with the gape that his wide cock had left you in, that small plug wasn’t quite enough to keep bits of his cum from spilling out of you whenever you moved, so along with your dirty thighs and matted pubic hair, every single time you moved, you felt your underwear and jeans becoming more and more soiled with the evidence of what the three of you had done.

And to the most careful, watchful eye (that being Glenn’s of course - he tried his best to busy himself with his chores, willing his tired, aching cock to stay down, because he feared that it just might fall off if he got hard again that day) - the seam of your jeans where it was pressing up against your cunt was just a bit darker, the fabric actively wet and stuck to you, soaked from his cum leaking out of you and likely from how turned on you still were from the whole thing.

Glenn had to force himself to focus on his assigned chores, because if he didn’t - he just might have pulled you aside into the trees and tried again to fuck another baby into you. After all, it was what Maggie wanted. And she always got what she wanted in the end.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot and there will not be a 'Part 2' or a continuation. If you are going to comment on this fic, please comment on the body of work that has been written, rather than asking for a continuation.

If you like this dynamic, feel free to come to my inbox and tell me that you liked this fic for that reason, and I will likely write more with this pairing (the Maggie x Reader x Glenn pairing). But I will not be continuing this fic directly. You can also check out my other Gleggie x Reader fic Hold Me Tight Or Don't, or you can check out my other TWD fics by going through my Walking Dead Masterlist. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!

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