#and rick thinking about how he’s turned on but shouldn’t be

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

Would you guys still love me if I posted Birdrick homoerotic ‘roughly patching someone up after an injury’ fic where Birdperson is very pissed off at Rick for fucking up their mission and ‘punishing’ him for it with the pain that comes with patching him up but then Rick is actually kind of into it that I wrote while high

[d1xonss]

so ours babys a lil insecure bc of reader and his lil age gap he vents it to rick a little and since shes such a social butterfly literally talking and befriending everyone he gets upset and starts to think lowly of himself like theres younger men men who arent busy leading the community so they can spend all their time and affection on her blah blah he gets these crazy thoughts and she comforts him eases all his worries ):

Forever

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 6

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Angst/Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.1k

AN ~ Aww sad:(( but we love Reader comforting Daryl, it's one of my favorite things to write. And an age gap too?? I love it. Hope you enjoy!

“You’re ridiculous.” Rick spoke with a scoff.

Daryl’s eyes narrowed slightly at the man, not necessarily because of what he had claimed, but because it almost seemed like he hadn’t listened to him at all.

He already felt a little ashamed going to his friend in the first place to talk about how he was feeling, something the man rarely ever did. But that alone showed how desperate he seemed to be for any kind of advice, willing to put himself out there to express what had been going through his mind recently in hopes of some sort of reassurance.

He didn’t really know what had been going on with him recently, but ever since the group had made it to Alexandria, his insecurities slowly began to eat him alive. He started to take note of his appearance a little more, now that they actually had mirrors in the houses provided for them, seeing for himself how much older and tired he really was. It shouldn’t have bugged him as much as it did, but yet, it seemed to be all he thought about. And that constant loop of thoughts only traveled to another, thinking about how much living on the road seemed to age him, while the woman he was madly in love with stayed so young and beautiful.

She was absolutely perfect, not a single flaw, while he on the other hand had countless ones that he couldn’t seem to just get over and ignore. But that wasn’t the only aspect about her that seemed to cloud over his mind. She was quite the extrovert, making friends everywhere she turned as she was constantly radiating such a good and friendly energy. It even drew him in towards her from the start, falling victim to her charming personality. Though it wasn’t her kindness that made him a little more self conscious than before; it was the fact that a few younger men had obviously taken a liking to her natural sweetness ever since they moved here.

Now he knew that she would never cheat on him, the thought never even crossed her mind, but that still didn’t stop his jealousy from bubbling over to a point of no return. Wanting to beat the shit out of any guy who looked at her for just a little too long. He wasn’t blind by any means, and some of them had a hard time hiding the sneaky glances they were taking at his woman whilst she was just in her own little world.

Though the longer he seemed to stew over it for the months and months they had lived there, it made him start to wonder if maybe she would be better off with someone else. Someone a bit younger, more energetic, more outgoing. Someone that matched her personality better than he did. It was no secret that they were polar opposites, but he always imagined that they completed each other in a way, not even thinking twice about it. However, now that he had all the time in the world to think, it slowly started to consume him, thinking more about how he didn’t deserve her at all. But hell, maybe no one deserved her. 

The man then seemed to snap out of his thoughts, scoffing toward Rick who was looking at him with a small smile, “Man, m’ bein serious.” he grumbled.

“So am I.” Rick shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he tilted his head a bit at him, “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about man. You two are always attached at the hip, she loves you…I think you might just be in your own head about it.”

He sighed heavily as he thought to himself for another moment, his thumbnail in his mouth as he contemplated why he was confiding in Rick in the first place. At this point he had it in his head that the man was just telling him what he wanted to hear. “I dunno…” he eventually muttered in response.

Rick only shook his head, “You shouldn’t be so focused on this. You’ve always known how nice she is, everyone loves her-”

“Man, that ain’t the problem. I already told ya that.” Daryl interrupted with irritation in his voice.

“I know…I know.” he assured, “I guess I just don’t see the connection of how you came up with the idea that she suddenly deserves someone “better.”

The archer shook his head with a light scoff, “Seein her talkin with those guys…something kinda just clicked that she should be with someone more fit for her…” he trailed off for a moment, before pathetically shrugging his shoulders again, “I dunno.”

Rick honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Although, he could, he knew that Daryl sometimes got like this, thinking he didn’t deserve the things that he was given. But he never thought he would be standing here listening to him speak about how you would be better off with someone else. Anyone who even caught a glimpse of the two of you could easily see how in love you were with each other. He swore the sight could potentially make someone sick.

The man then cleared his throat, “Well…if you want to know what I think, I say you should talk to her.”

“Talk to her?”

Rick couldn’t help but laugh at how baffled he looked at the suggestion, “Yeah, talk to her. Besides, I think she’ll have a better chance at reassuring you about this than I will, she seems more fit for the role.” he joked.

But Daryl on the other hand scoffed, not exactly loving the idea, “This shit’s already embarrassing, why would I wanna bring it up to her? Didn’t even really wanna bring it up to you.”

“Thanks.” Rick said dryly before stepping closer to slap a hand on the man’s shoulder, “But just trust me on this, alright? You need to tell her how you’ve been feeling. Because if I know you at all, I know you want to keep this bottled up. But that’ll just make it worse and you know it.”

He was right. As much as Daryl hated to acknowledge it, he knew deep down he was right.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to put it off every chance he got, pushing it into the back of his mind as he always seemed to do in hopes that it would just go away. Though he knew it wouldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to want to think about it right now.

He went home later that night utterly defeated and clueless on how to even approach the topic in the first place. When the time dreadfully came around, how would he even bring it up? He was never good with words, especially when it came to something about how he was feeling. It was all just stupid and complicated in his mind, not knowing how to actually piece together the things he wanted her to know. But he knew he had to try.

The front door opened and shut with a small creak as he entered the house, kicking his dirty boots off to the side before he softly called out your name. But all was quiet, not a single sound of your voice calling back to him, to which he only assumed you were still out somewhere in the community. It wasn’t often you stayed out this late, but he silently knew that if someone needed the extra help, you would do it in a heartbeat.

The older man sighed deeply to himself before trudging up the stairs, wanting to get out of the filthy clothes he was trapped in before settling for the night, waiting for you to come home. He couldn’t ever really fall asleep without you there. He didn’t know if it was because he would always worry too much if you weren’t right beside him, or if he just physically needed your touch to relax, but it had to be somewhere in that ballpark. Perhaps both…definitely both.

He entered your shared bedroom with a tired huff, beginning to undo the buttons on his vest before folding it sloppily and setting it off to the side on the dresser. His hands then moved to peel off his dirty shirt that stuck to every part of his tanned skin, raising it over his head before throwing it in the hamper across the room to be washed. He ran his hands through his hair to get it out of his face as he crossed the space to get himself another pair of pants to sleep in, when suddenly his movements stopped short.

The tall, full length mirror that sat off in the corner quickly caught his attention as he saw just a brief glimpse of his reflection dancing behind the glass. He blinked a few times as he knew he shouldn’t look too close, knowing it was only going to add fuel to the already ongoing fire. But a part of him couldn’t help it, seeing as it was too late now that he had taken notice of a few new flaws he hadn’t spotted before. It was like some kind of sinkhole that he couldn’t escape from, looking over the things he hated the most about himself over and over again.

He slowly stepped closer toward the object even though he knew he shouldn’t, seeing himself a little more up close as the moonlight poured through the window just above him to illuminate his figure. His eyes scanned everything he could make out in the slight darkness, seeing the wrinkles that were now more prominent on his forehead. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes from the exhaustion and stress that had been weighing on him constantly. And seeing the scars that littered over his entire body.

“Daryl?”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your soft voice from behind him, spinning around to see you standing in the doorway. Your eyes widened a little in surprise. Never had you recalled a single time where you had been able to catch him off guard, accidently sneak up on him enough to make his heart skip. He had always been aware of his surroundings, the man had the instincts of a goddamn cat. So to say you were surprised when he hovered about five feet in the air at your presence, would be an understatement.

You raised an eyebrow at him in slight concern, “You okay?” you asked softly as you approached him with hesitance.

Daryl’s stomach had plummeted to his ass, a heat rising in his cheeks from embarrassment as you caught him staring down at himself for a bit longer than usual. He swallowed thickly as he saw you walking further into the room, nodding a bit quickly, “Yeah…m’ fine.”

Though the way he spoke was far from convincing, his voice coming out a bit higher than usual, and the reassuring smile he tried to send your way being a little too forced for you not to realize. Your eyes narrowed toward him in slight suspicion as you came to stand right in front of him, taking in his appearance. There was something that was clearly circling his mind, you had noticed for far longer than he thought you did. But you always knew when there was something off about him.

You gently reached out to grab one of his hands in your own, “Come on…don’t lie to me.” 

He sighed softly, knowing that he should just bite the bullet and tell you, but he couldn’t bring himself to just yet. “Just…just had a rough day. That’s all.” 

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” you said with a slight shake of your head, watching as he furrowed his brows a little in question. “You’ve been acting off for weeks now, you really didn’t think I was going to notice?”

His eyes widened. Shit. 

A small smirk formed on your lips as you clearly saw that you had caught him in a little white lie. It was written all over his face. You squeezed his hand in reassurance, “I’m not upset…I just want you to talk to me.”

He knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, especially after Rick gave him that little wake up call earlier to just rip the bandage off. But he hoped he could put it off for at least a few more days, wanting a little more time to prepare the things he wanted to express to you honestly. Though he could tell just by the way you were looking up at him, that you wanted answers, and he couldn’t just ignore what was standing right before him.

He sighed softly as he looked at the ground for a moment, before slowly nodding his head, “Alright…” he started, not even knowing where to take this. “Look…maybe…maybe this ain’t workin.” he blurted without thinking.

Your eyes widened a little, “What?” 

Daryl’s eyes then grew as well realizing just how bad that sounded, quickly shaking his head, “No, no, I- I mean…that ain’t how I meant for it to sound at all.” he reassured, before taking another moment to collect his racing thoughts. “I’ve been…thinkin recently and…I ain’t gettin any younger. Hell, I feel like I aged five extra years just from bein out on the damn road for so long.”

You nodded along slowly, not really seeing where this was heading, “So?”

He sighed softly, “So…I’ve been thinkin bout how…maybe…ya deserve to be with someone a little more fit for ya. Someone younger than me…someone who can give ya what I can’t.” he spoke almost regrettably, like he dreaded even saying those words out loud in the first place.

The truth was, he never wanted to let you go, that was a knowing fact that didn’t need to be proved. But at the same time, he didn’t want to hold you back from a chance at a better life. One that you so clearly deserved.

But your expression seemed to soften drastically, now hearing his explanation out loud, it all seemed to click in your head. Why he had been acting off for the longest time, it was because he was just thinking too much about something that meant absolutely nothing. When you first noticed his odd behavior, you automatically assumed you had done something wrong without realizing. But now hearing it out loud, hearing how hurt he sounded, all you wanted to do was hold him and never let him go. Wanting to reassure him for the rest of your lives if you had to that he was truly the only man you would ever want.

A small huff passed through your lips, “Sweetie…that’s what this is about?”

Daryl shrugged a little in response, “Well…yeah. I’ve seen ya makin friends with a lot of the people round here…it just crossed my mind that…maybe-”

“Stop.” you said gently as you moved even closer to him, reaching up to give his arms a gentle squeeze, “Don’t say another word.”

His gaze softened as he stared down at you, regret filling him completely as he saw just how his words had affected you.

“I love you…so much.” you whispered as your gripped his arms a little tighter, “I’m not looking at anyone else…I don’t want anyone else. No one else on this whole damn planet would be a better fit for me than you. I don’t need some younger guy. I’m not even friends with them, they only come talk to me if they have a question about something. And most of them aren’t very bright.” you said bluntly, earning a small chuckle from him. “I just wish you had told me about this sooner.”

He bit his lip a bit shamefully, “I know…m’ sorry. I just thought…ya might be better off-”

“I won’t.” you insisted, “You’re all I will ever need…you hear me?”

A small smile grew on his face upon hearing that, knowing that you meant every word. Though there was still another thing hovering over his mind. “Even though m’ an old man?” he asked half heartedly, though a part of him was still serious.

You rolled your eyes a bit, “Just because you’re older than me doesn’t make you an old man.” you laughed softly, “But if that’s something you’re really worried about…I promise to stick around even when you’re eighty.” you winked.

His lip quirked up a bit in amusement as he reached out to place his hands on your hips, gently tugging you closer, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

You then felt his thumbs start to rub soothingly along your hip bones, still a little unsure if this was truly what you wanted. To be with someone like him. “Ya promise?” he eventually asked.

You tilted your head a bit at him, “Come on…what do I have to do to convince you that I want this forever?”

The man was silent for a long moment as he thought to himself, absentmindedly still running his thumbs along your hips as he stared down at you. The truth was he didn’t really need anymore convincing than what you had already told him. Just by the small bit of reassurance you provided, he felt as though he was lighter, a weight being lifted from his shoulders knowing you were his. But still, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect time to make it even more official.

“Marry me.”

Your eyes widened a little in surprise, not expecting him to be so blunt let alone say those words to you at all. He never really struck you as someone who would want to get married at a time like this, but it’s not like you minded. As long as you were with him, that’s all that truly mattered to you.

Only now it felt as if the wind was knocked out of you, hearing him utter those words so clearly as if he meant it with his entire being. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit nervously, “Don’t joke about that, cause you know I will.”

He smiled down at you, shaking his head softly, “M’ serious.” he assured, raising one of his hands to run his thumb along your cheek, “Marry me.”

A lump began to form in your throat as you felt yourself get a little more emotional seeing how real this was becoming. Seeing how serious he was. He really wanted this.

“Okay.” you whispered with a small nod of your head.

His smile only grew, “Okay?”

You nodded a bit more frantically as a large smile broke out onto your face, “Yes…yes I’ll marry you.”

He chuckled, pure relief and happiness filling him completely as he picked you up in his arms, spinning you around lightly as you squealed in surprise. Though he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to seal the deal as he gently set you back down on your feet, kissing you deeply as he felt you hum into his mouth. A part of him almost couldn’t believe that you had agreed, wanting to truly be with him forever. But then again, with the way you looked at him, with the way you said yes with little to no hesitation at all, he knew. You were his forever.

~ Thanks for reading!

[d0youc0py]

Heyyy. This might b triggering so it’s okay if u don’t do it, but how would 141 + Konig react if reader was @ her friends house and got in the middle of an argument between friend + her bf and friends bf ended up hitting reader? (Kinda self indulgent 🫣)

“You always do this Simon!” You growled, shoving some clothes into an overnight bag.

“Do what?” He snapped back. He stood in the doorway, trying to slow his breathing. He was upset- more than upset, but he refused to loose his patience with you. “Just want to keep you safe kid.” He reminded.

“You’re trying to isolate me!” You shouted, making your way towards the bathroom. “Every time I try to do anything you always tell me it’s not safe- or that I shouldn’t trust this person. Newsflash Simon I have been able to survive on this earth without you.”

“I don’t like him.” He held strong. He wouldn’t compromise with you if he felt you were at risk. Your friend had invited you to spend the night at her house for a sleepover, and when you broke the news to Simon his first question was: ‘will that slag of hers be there?’ To be honest you hadn’t even thought about it. Why did it matter if he was there? You knew Simon trusted you but his constant distrust of other people was starting to wear on you.

“That doesn’t really matter Simon.” You sighed. You stood in front of him expectantly, waiting for him to move out of the frame. “Besides what evidence to you have against him?”

“He’s a strange man.” He responded.

“He’s not a stranger Simon. We’ve been on like three double dates with them.” You huffed, taking it upon yourself to push past him when he refused to move. He growled to himself, following you around the flat. Suddenly his hands gripped your hips pulling you back towards him. His neck bent down and you instinctually made room for his head by tilting yours to the side.

“Just stay home with me tonight, yeah?” The anger left your body at his soft words and the small kisses placed against your neck. “Or at least say you can’t spend the night. No reason for you to be away for that long.” You turned in his arms, placing a kiss against his chin.

“Simon I’ll be fine, yeah?” You murmured, causing another huff to escape him.

•••

That turned out to be a fat lie.

“Do you think Simon’s going to propose anytime soon?” She asked causing you to flush. “You two have been together for what, three, four years?”

“Just two.” You corrected politely. “I don’t know honestly, haven’t really thought about it much.”

“Such a lie.” She snickered, wiggling her brows at you. You rolled your eyes waving her off.

“Keep it down in there!” You both jumped at the sudden boom from the living room.

“Sorry Rick!” Your friend shouted, seemingly unbothered by his nasty tone. A pit formed in your stomach.

“He always talk to you like that?” You asked, keeping your voice down. She looked at you with a small smile.

“Just when I’m bothering him. Surely Simon snaps at you.” She explained. How could she not realize how out of touch her statement was.

“Not like that.” You said.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You winced as Ricks voice rung out from behind you. How the hell were you suppose to get out of this one? “You comin into my house, filling my girls head with shite?” He snarled. You quickly stood up.

“No, course not.” You smiled, making your way towards the door.

“I’m good to her.” He huffed, following your footsteps. You nodded your head in agreement.

“I’m sure you are.” You offered a weak smile, peaking behind you to make sure you didn’t trip over any furniture. His arm darted out gripping yours, tugging you close to him.

“You’re sure?” He pressed. You were a quivering mess at this point. Fear and adrenaline being to much for your body to process.

“Rick!” Your friend yelled. He threw a harsh ‘shut up’ over his shoulder. Your mind raced trying to remember even just one technique Simon had showed you. You wished you had payed more attention, instead of just staring at his arms the whole time.

“You’re sure?” He growled again giving you a shake.

“Stop!” You shouted. It was met with a harsh smack to your face.

“I’ve got neighbors you little”- His words were cut off as Simon’s words finally rang through your head:

“When in doubt, aim for the balls or the throat.”

You decided the first one was the most viable option. It had caught him off guard enough to loosen his grip and it was all you needed, slamming the front door shut behind you. You had made it down the flight of stairs, your hands searching your pockets for your phone only to realize you had left it inside.

“Fuck.” You whimpered, trying to make heads or tails of where you were. You weren’t overly familiar with this area. But you were familiar with the fast approaching figure heading towards you. “Simon.” You gasped, hurdling yourself towards him. You didn’t know why he was here but you sure as shit weren’t complaining.

Even through your own shakes you could feel him tremble against you. You let out a sob as he tried to pull away from you.

“He touch you?” He growled, none of it’s malice towards you. Your cheek burned and you could only imagine the mark it had left.

“I want to go home.” You sputtered, burying your face in the safety of his shoulder. He swallowed down his anger to the best of his ability.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He murmured against your head. He carried you to the truck, buckling you up. He continued to let you cling to him until you had calmed, and the loudest thing between you two was his pounding heartbeat. “Tell me what happened, yeah?�� He hummed, trying his hardest to fake some calmness.

“He grabbed my arm.” You whispered. His chest heaved. “And”- you cut yourself off. Taking a small breath you pulled away from him, his heated eyes quickly falling on the bruise already spreading over half your face. His face flushed, but he was able to hold in the burning of his body.

“Sweetheart.” He said slowly. He pressed his lips against your forehead. “Give me the apartment number.”

“1G.” You said, with surprisingly little hesitation. Whatever Simon was about to do, it was deserved.

When Simon came back he was shockingly clean, and shockingly poised. He tossed your overnight bag into the back seat and handed you your phone when he got into the drivers seat.

“Simon”- he cut you off by tangling both your hands with one of his, pulling out of the parking garage. You didn’t need to know. You didn’t need to know that he had broken down a door- and almost every bone in that man’s body. That he had been waiting outside the apartment building for the past three hours, stewing in his own protectiveness. Your friend wasn’t even mad. She didn’t bat an eye when Simon asked to use her bathroom to clean himself up a bit- not wanting that man’s blood anywhere near your precious body.

He brought your hands up pressing a kiss against your knuckles, pulling into the grocery store parking lot for a bag of frozen peas and ice cream.

He wasn’t suppose to be home yet. He had at least another week away- another week for your bruised face to heal. It had just began to look better, the harsh purple color fading to more of a greenish yellow color.

He opened the door, steadying himself for the only attack he actually enjoyed. Your pressing yourself as close to him as you could, tangling your limbs with any part of him, your lips suffocating any thought he had other than he was finally home with you. His stomach dropped when it never came, shutting to door behind him his bag thumping loud against the floor.

“Sweetheart?” His voice boomed, the worst running through his head. He reminded himself he wasn’t suppose to be home for another week and that you weren’t expecting him. Yet your car was in the driveway and there was still no sign of you.

“I’m here.” His shoulders relaxed, your voice melting his brain just right.

“Where are y”- he stopped himself. You were standing in front of him. The realization as to why you weren’t all over him right now crashing down on him harder than a bullet. You- his literal everything- adorned with a sickening brush on your cheek. The same cheek he would brush his beard against to make you laugh. The same cheek his fingers would stroke to self soothe when his brain was just too loud. The same cheek that would flush berry red when he mumbled certain things against you.

“I can explain.” You said quickly, allowing him to maneuver the two of you to the couch. You quickly found your designated spot on his lap, hoping your touch would cause the storm that was about to ensure lighten.

“I want a name.” His voice was calm. Too calm.

“It was an accident. Fell in the garden and hit myself on that big rock you keep telling me to look out for.”

He wasn’t buying it. His face stone cold, as his thumb traced over the healing brush gently.

“I’ll be good.” He assured. He couldn’t fathom why you wanted to protect this person. Must’ve been someone you knew. “Name, please.”

“John.” You whined, clawing at his shirt. He huffed and relaxed you against him, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“You don’t want to tell me because you think I’ll overreact.” He couldn’t even blame you for that. The man would happily start a war over you. “I won’t touch ‘em, I promise.” He whispered. His hand rubbed up and down your back and you realized just how much you needed the comfort. His hand stopped at your neck, massaging the tense muscles. “Just need to know who hurt my love, hmm?”

“Promise you won’t hurt anyone?” You insisted using his chest to cover up a yawn. He hummed, nodding his head.

“Rick. Remember Kelsey’s boyfriend? I went over to her house and he showed up drunk yelling at her about some fight they had earlier. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and before I knew it he hit me.” You explained. The normally comfortable body under you had turned ridged, his heartbeat drumming against your ear. “John?”

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” He chuckled slowly against your temple. “Did you”-

“Put a frozen steak on it? Yeah.”

“I’m sorry that happened darling.” He sighed. His large hands gripped your sides pulling you away from him just for a moment. “If something like that ever happens again you call me, understand?” His eyebrow rose to show his seriousness.

“Yes sir.” You swore a small smile on your lips.

He had kept his promise- he didn’t hurt anyone. But he couldn’t allow someone who hurt you live a comfortable life. It would go against his oath to you if he did.

And besides, someone has to make the enemy afraid of the dark.

He should’ve know better than to leave you alone. He thought that for just one moment while he went to the bathroom it would be safe. You had been tucked under his arm the whole evening, so everyone knew who you were there with. It was his fault for assuming his physique was enough to keep any unwanted advancements away. Time slowed as he came out of the bathroom, his trained eyes spotting you right where he had left you, except you were on the floor. Tears streaming down that perfect face of yours, your own hand cupping your cheek. He didn’t even need to see your best friend pulling at her boyfriends arm in shock- or the way his green eyes stared at his own hand like it had just appeared out of thin air to know what had happened.

Johnny was by your side in an instant, pulling your hazy body to its feet. He’d experienced this before on the field. Everything moving in slow motion- hyper focusing on the important things. Right now it was you.

“Mac.” You gasped, your fingers curling into his shirt sleeve. Like a shockwave he was pulled back into real time. The loud chatter of the bar. The smell of cigarettes and stale beer. The fear rolling off of you. It made his blood boil. He turned to look at Rick his mind going into autopilot. His hand shot out grabbing him by the shirt collar on flinging him backwards. The bar went dead silent the only sound was Ricks body slamming into the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar. Johnny took a few steps forward wanting to finish what he had just started. That wasn’t enough of a punishment. He wouldn’t be happy till he was unrecognizable. “Jo.” Your pleading voice snapped him out of it once more.

In that moment he realized how selfish he was. You were scared and needed assurance, not seeing your husband nearly kill someone. He wrapped a sturdy arm around you guiding you out of the disheveled bar. The cold felt good against your heated bodies.

“I don’t know what happened.” You sputtered, letting the Scot support your body weight. “Camilla was making a joke about how angry Rick gets when she folds his laundry wrong and I made a joke about how she still does his laundry and then he”-

You couldn’t even get through the story.

“Let me see.” Johnny hushed, gently removing your hand from your face. He leaned forward pressing a light kiss against the throbbing flesh. “How bad does it hurt?”

“Six out of ten.” You responded, nuzzling your way back into his strong chest. All you wanted was to be home in bed in the safety of his arms. The smell of pine tickled your brain enough for the tears to stop.

“Should go back there and”-

“No.” You huffed.

“That number is too damn high for me to let him off easy.”

“Easy? You threw the man across the room with one hand.” You reminded.

“Should make it so he only has one hand.”

“Johnny.” The use of his full name stopped the unintelligible Scottish rambling that was sure to ensue. “Can we go home please?”

“Hey sweetheart, need me to come pick you up?” Kyle spoke into the phone that was resting between his shoulder and his cheek. When you sniffled into the phone he didn’t even bother to pause his game, his fingers gripping the device in his hand.

“Ky.” You mumbled. You mumbled in that specific tone that cracked his heart in such a wince worthy way. “I need help.” His blood ran cold.

“Stay on the phone with me, yeah.” He demanded, shoving his feet into a pair of shoes. “What happened?” The sound of his car starting settled you a little bit. “You still at your friends house?”

“No, I’m down the street, by the library.” You sniffed. “He hit me, Ky.”

A sound let Kyles throat- a mix of a growl and a whine. His foot pressed even harder against the accelerator, running straight through a red light. His body was shaking, adrenaline heightening his senses. He wished the two of you didn’t live in such a big city with so much fucking traffic.

“Who’s he?” Kyle snarled.

“Jess’s boyfriend.” You emphasized. “They got into a stupid fight about which Pizza to order for lunch and all I did was fucking agree with her.”

He felt sick. He’d seen a lot of gruesome shit in his life, but the thought of someone hurting you took the cake. He could imagine how scared you were- how scared you are. He can see the tears welling up in your eyes and he imagined your heart rate was about the same as his right now. He can imagine you scrambling to find a way out of there- away from the danger.

“After this we’re practicing those damn self dense moves.” He gritted. You mumbled an ‘okay’ before seeing a familiar sleek, black car pull up next to you.

“How’d you get here so fast?” You questioned, hanging up the phone as he got out of the car.

“Let me see.” He insisted, pressing the back of his palm against your heated cheek. You winced, shying away. “Let’s go get you some ice.” He said mostly to himself. He rested a hand on the back of your neck guiding you to the passenger side.

He kept his hand in your lap the whole drive to the grocery store. “What pizza did he want?”

“Pepperoni with mushrooms.” You replied. The rest of the ride was silent, Kyle went into the store without you.

“Hold this against your face.” He pressed a bag of frozen peas to your cheek. He unwrapped your favorite candy bar, placing it in your lap. Even with your swollen face you couldn’t stop a smile. “I need to make a quick stop before we go home.” His eyes flickered over to you, the same flash of anger striking through him as he took your appearance in. You didn’t think anything of it till he turned down your friends street.

“Kyle.” You mumbled. The last thing you wanted to do was be back here.

“I know baby, I know.” He tried his best to soothe, but he was so riled up. He needed to get this out of his system. Besides he couldn’t just let people hurt you and get away with it. “Stay here, I’ll only be a second.” He closed the door behind him, grabbing a frozen pizza that you didn’t even know he got out of the backseat. You watched anxiously as he made his way up the driveway ringing the doorbell.

The door opened to reveal Rick and Kyle wasted absolutely no time shoving the frozen pizza in his face. The strength of it sent Rick flying backwards and Kyle took the upmost pleasure in the loud crack of his nose breaking.

“Traffic is bad mein Herz. I’m going to be a little late.” You huffed at his words.

“Drive safe I’ll see you soon.”

“He running late?” Your friend questioned as you made your way back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, should be here soon though.” She smiled, taking dinner out of the oven. “Help me set up?” She asked over her shoulder, making her way to the dinning room. You began grabbing the silverware out of the drawer.

“No, Konig?” Rick asked, sitting down at the kitchen island. You shook your head.

“He’ll be here soon.” You assured.

“That’s too bad.” His hand landing on your hip followed his slimy words.

“What are you doing?” You spat, backing away. He shushed you.

“Keep you’re voice down. Don’t want her to find us out, yeah?” He said, nodding his head towards the dinning room.

“There is nothing to find out!” You must’ve said it too loud, because Ricks hand flung forward connecting with your cheek. You dropped the spoons in your hand, then clattering loudly on the floor. You didn’t even have time to feel scared, catching sight of the colossal figure in the doorway.

Rick followed your gaze and it was almost laugh worthy at how quickly he lost all confidence.

“Schatz?” Konig held out his car keys to you. “Wait in the car, please.”

Gentle blue eyes watched you, almost chuckling at the way you skipped over to him. Konig reveled in the way you trusted him. Trusted him to take care of you- to protect you. Later he would wrap you up in his arms and hold a bag of ice to your face, but right now he had other things to deal with.

“And turn the music up. It might get loud in here.”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,844 Pairing: Negan x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language, mild gore (killing walkers) Summary: In lieu of Negan's failing mental health, Michonne looks for options and Y/N steps up to do her share. A/N: This is part 1 of a miniseries (maybe 3?? parts) for Negan that I've been working on! I started it as a one shot, but... you know me lol so here we are! Part 2 will be released next week on Wicked Wednesday! Happy reading! “I’m afraid we’ve got a problem,” Michonne said seriously. You exchanged a glance with Daryl.

“What kind of problem? Like, Annoying Steve is being annoying or a new horror is coming to destroy everything we have and love?” you asked wryly.

Daryl let out an appreciative dry laugh but Michonne remained serious. “Somewhere in the middle, I think,” she said. “It’s about Negan.”

Daryl swore and paced a tight circle. “Course it is. Somehow, it’s still always ‘bout him, ain’t it?” he growled.

Michonne forged ahead. “Gabriel is—fed up with him. There’s no other way to say it. He’s not trying to do anymore counseling and he needs a break. I don’t blame him. He’s taken on everything with Negan since—since Rick—”

You frowned, your brow furrowing as grief roared upwards in all of you. “What exactly is the problem?”

“His mental state is really deteriorating,” Michonne explained. “Being in there by himself all the time, just the odd hour or two outside, no one talking to him—”

“Why should we give a shit?” Daryl asked in a low, dangerous voice. “Ain’t the whole damn point of him bein’ in there so he has to suffer for what he did for the rest of his life? His mental state… Fuck. They fed me one fuckin’ dog food sandwich a day after they shoved me into a fucking closet naked. They —”

You reached over and put your hand on Daryl’s arm before he got further charged up. He stopped abruptly and drew in a long breath.

“I know. I know what he did, but no,” Michonne said. “The point isn’t for him to just suffer. If we do that, we become no better than him.”

Daryl glanced at you and let out an exasperated exhale. “Hell, ya already know what I think about it,” Daryl said firmly. “He shouldn’t even be breathin’ still. ‘M the wrong damn person to ask ‘bout this.”

Michonne sighed and leaned forward on her hands. “I’m just trying to honor Carl and—”

“We know,” you interrupted her quickly. You paused thoughtfully. “I—I can take this on. I’ve dealt with him the least so far out of the three of us. Probably makes it my turn.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “What’re ya gonna do? Rub his back while he cries? Hold his fuckin’ hand? I mean, how do we help somebody like him.”

Michonne shrugged. “A little more conversation to start, I think. He said being alone and the boredom is eating him alive. Maybe we come up with some more things for him to do outside the cell.”

You nodded. “I’ll brainstorm,” you said.

Daryl looked concerned, his eyes flickering over you. “Yer gonna have to be careful. He’s a manipulative asshole. And I dun trust a damn thing ‘bout him. If he can get out, he will. Don’t matter what he’d have to do.”

“I’ll be careful. I’m not an amateur, Daryl,” you said, shooting him a smile.

He nodded, ducking his head. “I know. I just gotta say it.”

“Are you sure?” Michonne asked. “It doesn’t have to be one of us. I can talk to some other people.”

“I’ve got it. I’ll start today. I’ll take him his meals and check on him, make sure he gets some time outside the cell. I’ll take care of it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Flat on his back, Negan heard the door open and shut but he barely moved. His eyes stayed closed and he heaved a heavy sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in some anticipation of annoyance. “Gabey-baby, I am not in the fucking mood for your guidance counselor horseshit today, so why don’t you just turn that tight little toosh around, waltz back out, and leave me the fuck alone…” he said.

“Wow. That was—gross…” you said.

Now, his eyes opened. This was something different. You were different. He swung his legs down and sat on the edge of his cot, his hazel eyes finding you and looking you over. “God Bless America, a change in the fucking monotony,” he said. “Is Gabe still mad at me?”

You approached his cell, tray in hand and nodded. “Yep. In fact, so pissed that he’s officially on vacation from you.”

“Gotta envy that,” Negan quipped. “How do I sign up for one of those?”

“A vacation from yourself?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think that’s in the cards.”

“Damn. It was worth asking.” He seemed to be looking you over again and you rolled your eyes.

“My eyes are up here, Negan,” you joked.

His lips curled into a half-smile. “Sorry. But Gabe isn’t exactly my type and I don’t get much chance to look at anything so—”

“Just stop right there, okay?” you interrupted him. You slid his tray through the slot at the bottom of the door and straightened back up.

But Negan wasn’t interested in his breakfast. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You know perfectly well what my name is, Negan,” you countered.

He cocked his head slightly. “You’re right about that,” he admitted. “So, what’s on the agenda?” he asked, finally moving to grab his tray. He returned to his cot and set it on the small side table.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Gabe was always counseling me. Trying to rehabilitate me. Were you a therapist or something in the old world?” He grabbed the small apple and shined it on his shirt before taking a bite.

“No. But we’re perfectly aware that your mental health has taken a nosedive recently,” you said.

Negan let out a low laugh. “And you give a shit?” he asked skeptically. “I nearly fucking destroyed all of you and you’re worried about my mental health?”

You sighed and nodded once, stiffly. “We’re not the same as you, Negan. We’re trying to do better. And Michonne wants to honor Carl’s vision.” You watched as Negan’s face fell. The look in his eyes grew distant and his shoulders slumped slightly.

“Yeah… He was a helluva kid,” Negan said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you replied, taking a seat in the stiff wooden chair set outside his cell. “I watched him grow up from a scared little kid and survive everything this world threw his way. You have no idea what kind of loss that was.”

Negan was looking at you thoughtfully and you were surprised when he didn’t reply, only nodded, and then returned to his apple.

“The agenda is for me to—” you hesitated for a moment. What the hell was the agenda? “For me to help you how I can. I know you’re alone a lot and you probably need some company, a change of scenery every now and then, mental stimulation…”

Negan laughed and smirked. “That’s not the only kind of stimulation I need,” he said.

You glared at him. “Jesus, Negan…” you murmured, rolling your eyes.

“It’s the truth,” he laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’m not helping you with that. I guess you’ll just have to try your hardest to think back to one of your past six wives,” you sassed.

The grin stayed on his face. “Five,” he corrected you. Then, the smile faded. “But, uh, only the first really counted.” Negan’s head dropped and you watched him curiously.

He was struggling. You’d never sensed so much truth or vulnerability in a single thing that had left his lips.

“I see,” you said.

For some reason, this made him laugh again. “You know, Gabe used to say that all the time. It’s some of that non-value, non-judgement counselor language.”

You stood up suddenly and sighed. “Finish your breakfast. I’m gonna go do a few things and then I’ll be back. We’re gonna get you out of that cell for a while today.” You fixed a stern and perceptive look on him. “If you think you can behave.”

Negan looked curious. “For you? I might.”

You cocked your head at him and looked unamused. “You will, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Negan laughed again and turned back to his food. “Got it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Why don’t I come with ya?” Daryl asked, watching as you slipped the pistol into your holster.

You looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “You think I can’t handle this?” you asked.

“Not that ya can’t handle it. It’s just—it’s Negan. We all know what he’s fuckin’ capable of,” Daryl said, walking behind you out the front door and across the steps.

“You’re conflating past Negan with Negan now. I just talked to him, and I’m telling you—it’s like he’s been robbed of all his menace and power. He’s been sitting in that cell a long time, Daryl. I don’t think he’s the same and I don’t think he’s going to—to suddenly hit me over the head with a rock or something,” you said.

“But outside the walls? Already? Why dun ya just—just start with somethin’ in here first and see how it goes? That way there are other people around and I can stop by when I can and check in.”

You read the intense concern on Daryl’s face and then nodded. “Alright. We’ll stay in the walls today. But I think part of the problem with him is that he hasn’t seen a single different thing outside in too long. He’s going a little stir crazy in there and I can’t entirely blame him.”

“Yeah, well, he fuckin’ deserves it,” Daryl growled.

“He does. But Michonne is right… we should be trying to be better. Otherwise, we should have just killed him.” You paused, trying to come up with something for him to do that would give him a little exercise and change of pace. “I’ll have him help me clear out that area for the new garden plots. There are some plants to harvest over there anyway before we clear it. It’ll teach him something too.`”

Daryl nodded. “ ‘Kay. I’ll stop by and check in,” he drawled. “Just be careful. Dun let yer guard down.”

“You know I never do.” You turned and headed back toward Negan’s cell.

Negan rose from his seat on his cot, the tray from breakfast sitting empty beside him on the small side table. He watched as you withdrew a ring of keys from your back pocket and fiddled with them a moment as you stood in front of the cell door, eyeing the lock. Was this a good idea?

Negan took a few cautious steps toward you, watching your face intensely. “Am I… getting out on good behavior, warden?” he quipped, flashing you a half-smile. It seemed to draw you back out from your reverie.

“Temporarily,” you replied, finally fitting the key into the lock and turning it. The metallic clunk was striking. “If you can handle it…” you added.

The pistol on your hip wasn’t lost on Negan. He nodded. “I think so,” he said. “What’re we doing? Hard labor?”

“Not so hard,” you said. “But I would appreciate your help with something.”

Negan froze just after stepping out of the cell and fixed a queer look on you. “Appreciate?” he repeated.

You nodded. “Mhm…”

His eyebrows lifted. “You better be careful with the way you’re talkin’ to me, Y/N. I might just fall in love with you,” he chuckled. “I haven’t felt appreciated in… oh, I don’t know—how long have I been in here?” he asked, brushing a hand back through his hair.

“Didn’t Gabriel speak nicely to you?” you asked, shutting the cell door behind him, giving him a questioning glance.

“Well, sure. Or maybe not nicely. He was at least neutral,” Negan said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I think I ruined that though.”

You shook your head and sighed. “Yeah, he’s not pleased with you, Negan,” you agreed. “Look, this is just a test run. We’re staying in Alexandria today, but eventually… I’d like to get you outside of the walls on occasion.” Negan looked shocked. “Obviously, that’s going to take trust,” you emphasized. “But I think it would do you good.” You hesitated, wondering if you should admit this to him, but you decided it would be good for him to hear it. “You’re not the same as you were when you were locked in here. And—I intend on finding out if you can really be rehabilitated. Not that I’m ever going to forget what you’ve done… but there’s got to be more than this,” you said, gesturing to the cell behind him, “in your future. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“You’ve just explained exactly what has me so depressed,” Negan admitted. “I’ve spent most of the last however many fucking years wishing Rick had just killed me.”

Those words hung in the air like a toxic cloud. You gulped and couldn’t help feeling an ache of compassion at his words. Compassion for Negan. What a peculiar thought… You tilted your head toward the door. “Come on. Follow me and stay close. And let me be perfectly clear; I will shoot you if you try to pull any bullshit,” you emphasized.

He nodded, his expression surprisingly serious. “Got it.”

You led him out into the summer sunshine and walked through Alexandria until you reached the overgrown section near the wall that you planned to tackle for the day. The two of you had gotten plenty of stares as you moved down the street, but you noticed that Negan had mostly kept his head down. His shoulders were somewhat slumped and he made no witty comments on the walk, though you caught him closing his eyes to enjoy the breeze or staring up at the blue expanse of sky overhead multiple times.

He stopped beside you, his hands in his pockets, as you stared at the tall grass and brambles ahead and sighed.

“What’re we doin’, boss?” he asked.

“We’re going to start clearing this area out so eventually we can put in some new garden plots. But there’s a little more to it. We used to have some medicinal plants in here before it got overgrown. I’m hoping to find them and save them for transplanting, so we can’t just start ripping everything out.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what’s medicinal and what’s not?” he asked.

“I’m gonna teach you,” you said confidently.

Negan laughed a little at the assertion. “Look, doll… I was a gym teacher in the old world. ‘Not Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman,’” he said.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Wow. That was a deep bench reference,” you said.

He smirked at you. “I was pretty proud of it myself,” he said.

You couldn’t help a dry laugh and small shake of your head. “It’s not that hard. We’ll work together to start and I’ll show you how to identify them. The grasses can all be pulled, but we’ll identify the broadleaf plants and get them ready for transplanting if they’re something we can use.”

Negan looked skeptical but shrugged. “Well, you’re the boss. Not like I’ve got a full schedule,” he said.

“Exactly,” you agreed. There was a reason you weren’t just having him pull all the grass and doing the rest yourself. Negan was smart and not having any mental stimulation was probably contributing a lot to his mental health issues. If you gave him a task that was a little physical and a little mental, you were hoping it’d give him a sense of purpose and productivity.

You got started right away, mainly just pulling the grasses and clearing a large area that remained dotted with forbs. It was summer and the respiration of the plants you were sitting in made the air humid. It wasn’t long before you were wiping at sweat along your hairline and stopping to push wet strands back out of your face. For a while, you worked in silence beside Negan, only speaking to instruct him, but he finally tried to start some conversation on his own.

“So, what the hell did you do in the old world anyway? Were you some kind of plant guru?” he asked, pausing to pull off his gloves for a moment and get a drink from the canteen you’d provided for him.

You paused, standing up to look down at him where he knelt in the grass. He was sweaty too, like you were, and his dark blue shirt was clinging to his back in the heat. “I don’t think I owe you my backstory, Negan,” you said. Your tone wasn’t unkind, but it was a little stern.

“Aw, come on. This is part of that trust-building thing you mentioned earlier,” he said, taking another drink. “I’m just trying to figure you out a little bit,” he said.

You crossed your arms and surveyed him. “So, you can better manipulate me when it’s beneficial to you?” you asked.

“What? No,” he said with surprise, and you almost believed him. “I mean—I currently have no concrete plans to manipulate you…” he admitted, a small bit of jest in his voice. “I’m bored all the time in that fuckin’ cell. I could sure use the conversation. Isn’t that what this is about? My ‘mental health’,” he quoted, shooting an expectant look at you.

You sighed. “What do you wanna know?”

Negan licked his lips and then smiled, thinking about what he wanted to ask, but before he could say a word, bootsteps behind the two of you caused you both to look over to see Daryl standing there.

You went to greet him, pulling off your gloves.

“How’s it goin’?” he asked in an undertone, glancing past you to shoot a glare at Negan.

You shrugged. “Fine. It’s been completely fine so far.”

Daryl nodded, but still looked suspicious. “He ain’t tried anythin’?”

You shook your head, dusting the soil from your gloves. “Nope. We’re just working.”

Daryl nodded, still clearly apprehensive. “Well, s’almost noon. Get him back to his cell by 1 and I’ll bring his meal down,” he drawled.

“I can take care of that,” you offered.

“S’fine. I wanna have a word with him anyway.” He put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze, giving you a small smile. “Yer doin’ enough for him. Be careful.”

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding. “See you later.”

When you turned around, you noticed Negan had been watching the interaction carefully. There was a thoughtful look on his face, but when you simply returned and got back to work, he joined you again in silence. You continued on for another hour or so, managing to clear quite a wide area by the time you needed to get Negan back to his cell for a late lunch. You walked beside him, both of you now dirty and plenty sweaty, and your hand strayed to the handle of your pistol again absently.

Negan noticed and broke the silence that had stretched for what felt like a long time. “You’re a fuckin’ great shot with that thing,” he said, nodding toward the gun.

“What?” you asked, turning to look at him, puzzled.

“I said, ‘you’re a great shot’,” he repeated. You still looked confused. “I noticed… during the war,” he said. “I mean—I noticed you but also your aim.” You stared at him, your brow furrowed. “You almost blew Simon’s fuckin’ head off,” he said with a laugh. “If he hadn’t flinched at the last second…” Negan let out a low whistle.

“How’d you know that was me?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Like I said, I noticed you.”

You looked… unsettled? Uneasy? Negan couldn’t quite define it, but there was some sort of tension in the air as you walked him back the rest of the way and finally locked him inside his cell again.

He gripped onto the bars and watched you turn away before he managed to get your name out. You turned toward him again, the high arch of your brow inquiring. “Thanks,” he said. “For today. It was the best fuckin’ day I’ve had in a while,” he admitted.

You gave him a baffled look. “I made you work outside in the sun all morning,” you laughed.

“Yeah… but I wasn’t alone. And I’ve had waaaaay worse company. Just—even if you decide you can’t do more than today, I want you to know that it mattered to me. Thanks.”

That look was on your face again, some mix of surprise and bewilderment. Finally, you sighed. “Daryl’s gonna bring you lunch. I’ll see you later, okay, Negan?”

He nodded, still gripping onto the cold, iron bars of his cell, and watched you walk out.

A short time later, Negan had washed his hands and splashed cool water from his basin over his face, dabbing at it with his small scratchy towel, when he heard the door open again. He looked up to see Daryl coming in with a tray of food and a scowl. He set it down by the slot at the bottom of the cell door and pushed it roughly through with the toe of his boot, almost spilling the water cup. Daryl’s expression didn’t change. It was stony and guarded.

Negan eyed him and then wandered over to grab the tray. He did feel hungry for once, something that had been rare for quite some time. When he straightened up, Daryl’s blue eyes were narrow and stinging.

Negan grabbed the apple off his tray and took a big bite. It was sweet and crunchy, satisfying and refreshing after being in the sun all morning. “Something on your mind, Daryl?” Negan asked, a faint smile on his lips.

Daryl stepped closer, right up to the bars. “Yeah. One thing. If ya fuck up, if ya try to hurt Y/N, if ya pull anythin’ I dun like, I don’t give a shit what Michonne or anybody else is tryin’ to do—I don’t give a shit about your rehab, I’ll put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Got it?”

That smile was still on Negan’s face, annoying the shit out of Daryl.

“I mean it, Negan. Ya hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said, taking another bite.

“Good,” he growled, and the archer left.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Eight | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Trigger warning for abusive behavior, Shane showing his true colors, Shane Walsh sucks

Word Count: 1.6K

Author’s Note: OKAY — apologies for the wait. I had a brief bought of hyperfixation on Logan Howlett and couldn't focus on anything other than X-Men since Deadpool and Wolverine came out. But now that the new season of Daryl Dixon is coming out, I am back in the fucking building. I still have a lot planned for this little fic, so let me know if you guys are still enjoying. This is very much a turning point in the story for the reader.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you set down one of the novels Dale had loaned you during one of your first days at the quarry camp. He just so happened to have overheard you complaining to Shane about not bringing anything to pass the time during the quiet hours at the end of the day when all chores and other responsibilities had been taken care of. Of course, Shane had brushed off your complaint — reminding you that you all had much bigger problems than your boredom. That was the first time since the world's end that you noticed his bitterness towards you and the first time you allowed yourself to believe that your feelings were insignificant, idiotic even, because of the word of Shane Walsh. That is until Dale appeared beside you at the campfire that night with a small stack of books from his RV — an act of kindness in an increasingly cruel world. 

You hoped that some light reading would distract you from everything — the dead rising, Shane’s constant negligence, Daryl’s sudden indifference. But, instead, you have the same sinking feeling in your gut that you woke up with. The very feeling that began last night after overhearing Daryl’s words to his brother. 

She don’t mean nothing to me. 

You shake your head at the memory and try to rid yourself of the look on Daryl’s face at the realization that you’d been listening last night — regret and sorrow mixing with the anger he felt towards his brother. A part of you felt sorry for him. And that part of you yearned to comfort him last night after he argued with his brother and wanted to apologize for eavesdropping. But the truth is, his words hurt you more than you care to admit because you have grown to care for the younger Dixon more than you care to admit. And that embarrasses you because wasn’t this hurt the very thing that Shane had warned you about when the brothers first joined the quarry camp?

Don’t go near those Dixons — they’re nothing but trouble. 

You sigh yet again before picking the book back up, but before you can return to reading, a strong pair of hands wrap around your shoulders. Shane. His touch should comfort you, but all you feel right now is anxiety as you wait for the other shoe to drop. In the few weeks you’ve been at the quarry camp, you’ve come to realize that Shane’s gentleness can turn to cruelty without warning — like the flip of a switch. His hands squeeze your shoulders tighter as they tense under his touch. 

“What’s on your mind?”

You shake your head at his question and turn to look at him. His features are surprisingly soft this morning and etched with concern as he studies your face. Your heart aches as he reminds you of the Shane who had begged Lori incessantly for your phone number. The Shane who brought you coffee during his patrols and wouldn’t shut up about you in the cruiser with Rick. The Shane who you had begun to fall in love with before the dead started walking the earth. You reach up and cover one of his hands with yours — the touch being your attempt at offering an olive branch after weeks of tension and hostility. 

“Nothing. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Shane hums softly while rubbing your shoulders. Against your better judgment, you lean into his touch. The two of you stay like this for a few minutes, silently enjoying each other’s company. Eventually, movement to your left catches your attention. You observe as Andrea helps T-Dog and Glenn prepare the van for today’s excursion. Glenn doubles over in laughter over something T-Dog said to Andrea, and there’s a sudden, deep pain in your chest as you watch T-Dog join in on the laughter and clap Glenn on the back of his shoulder — like someone plunged a knife into your heart and twisted. There’s a camaraderie forming among the members of the quarry camp — a camaraderie that you feel on the outskirts of.

“I heard about the run happening today, the one to Atlanta. I want to go with.”

Shane lets out a disappointed sigh, and your face drops at the sound. You thought maybe he'd be a little more lenient since he seems to be in a good mood today.

“I think they’ve got enough people. Adding another will probably only slow them down.”

Your brow furrows at Shane’s words as you feel your temper rising. Since the world ended, all Shane has done is underestimate you. You simply want the chance to prove yourself. You square your shoulders before responding. 

“I already talked to Glenn this morning — he said they could use another person out there.”

Shane’s hold on your shoulders tightens, and you clench your jaw due to the sudden pain. You take in a shaky breath, waiting for his response. 

“You should have talked to me first.”

His voice is ice cold, utterly devoid of the care and concern he’d shown you moments ago. The sound makes a shiver run down your spine. This isn’t your Shane. And you know that. You know you’ve been holding onto the idea of a man that you lost when the government dropped bombs on the entire city of Atlanta. And you know that you’ve been holding on so tight because you yearn to feel an ounce of normalcy. You’d been holding onto the hope that you’d wake up tomorrow to a cure and life would return to as it was before — this would just be something you’d reminisce about over coffee with Shane, Lori, and Rick years from now. But even with a cure, things can’t return to normal. Not after everything you’ve seen. Not after Shane’s shown you the cruelty he hides under the charm.

“I just want to contribute — pull my weight around here.”

The grip he has on your shoulders is unrelenting. A part of you thinks he wants his touch to leave behind a bruise — a reminder of this moment where he is in total control. A reminder of how small he can make you feel. 

“You can start by pulling your weight in camp. Lori needs help with the laundry.”

Your brow furrows at his words, and you grind your teeth together in frustration. You want to fight back, but the pain in your shoulders is becoming too much to bear. So, instead of talking back, you bite your tongue and silently nod at his words. You just hope he’ll let you go if you do what he says. Thankfully, Shane relents and backs away from you. You immediately stand from your chair, abandoning the novel on the table, as you waste no time putting distance between yourself and him. You can feel Shane’s eyes still on you as you walk away, but you don’t turn back. Instead, you keep moving until you find Lori. You collapse into the seat beside her with a heavy sigh. She looks up from the wash basin and meets your eyes.

“Bad day?”

“You could say that again. I heard you could use some help, though.”

A soft laugh escapes Lori’s lips as she slides a basket of dirty clothing your way. The familiar sound eases your nerves, and you realize you can let your guard down now. It’s just you and Lori sitting down by the quarry, and you know that she would never do anything to purposefully hurt you — not like Shane. 

“I can always use the help — the dirty laundry just never seems to end around here. And the company is always nice.”

You smile at her before grabbing the basket she slid your way. Your brow furrows as you notice a familiar pair of dark, tattered jeans. During the past few weeks with the younger Dixon, you’ve learned that Daryl never throws his clothes in the communal laundry baskets. Unlike his brother, he prefers to wash his clothes himself. You push your curiosity aside, resisting the urge to scan your surroundings yet again. You’ll never admit it, but despite your frustration towards Daryl, you’ve spent all morning hoping to see his familiar figure lingering around the outskirts of the camp. You swallow your disappointment and pick up the jeans. 

You check to ensure he’d left nothing in his pockets — remembering the all-out brawl that almost occurred when Merle discovered a soggy pack of cigarettes in his back pocket after Andrea had done the laundry. In your search, you find a folded piece of paper in one of his front pockets. Surprise washes over your features as you look down at the paper and see your name written in messy handwriting. You unfold the note, and your disappointment melt away as you read the words.

Gone out hunting. Won’t be back til tomorrow. Sorry for being an ass. Be careful. - D

Lori looks up from her wash basin and notices the note in your hands. She leans ever-so-slightly closer to you as she attempts to peek over your shoulder. 

“What is that?”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you realize just what this is — Daryl’s attempt at extending an olive branch. He is trying to make things right with you because, despite what he might have said to Merle last night, he cares. You haven’t misinterpreted his actions or become attached to a man who wants nothing to do with you. Quickly, you fold the paper back up and stuff it in your pocket.

“Just something that Daryl left in his pocket. Nothing special.”

But that’s a lie. The note would probably be insignificant to anyone else in the quarry camp. But to you, it means the world. Like Dale’s simple act of offering you a stack of books, it’s a reminder that though your world may be falling apart at your feet, there are still people who will show you kindness in an increasingly cruel world.

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[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon [teaser]

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1k.

The knock on your front door was gentle; almost as though the person on the other side of it was at odds on whether they should bother you or not. You sigh, figuring it was probably Aiden coming to apologize for the confrontation he had caused with Rick and his group earlier.

You sat the book you were reading down on your coffee table, getting up from the couch as you shuffled to the door. You freeze, not even needing to open it, the glass revealing that it wasn’t Aiden, but in fact Daryl. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling your heart pound against your chest. You close your eyes, letting out a heavy exhale.

You continue towards your door, opening it. The cool, crisp night air tickled your exposed skin. “It’s late, what’re you doing here?” you question. “Came to talk.” he replies simply in his gruff voice. You pause for a moment, contemplating on whether or not you should let him in. You really weren’t in the right headspace to talk, but at the same time you didn’t want to just turn him away. “Come in.” You pull the door open wider for the brunette to step inside before shutting it close.

“So…” you cross your arms, staring up at him. “What did you come to talk about?” Daryl’s picking at his fingernails; a coping mechanism that you always remembered him doing when he struggled to find the right words. Even after all these years he still had a hard time expressing himself. “Look, m’sorry ‘bout what went down with Aiden today.”

You sigh, shrugging your shoulders. You knew he really didn’t mean it. Anything Daryl did he did it with pride, standing on whatever decision he made. “Aiden can be an asshole sometimes, I know. But you and your group need to understand that things like that don’t happen in Alexandria. If you guys continue to disrupt the peace I don’t know what Deanna will do.” You inform him honestly. The people in Alexandria had lived in tranquility for so long, they weren’t used to sudden anarchy. Most of them hadn’t even dealt with walkers.

Daryl nods in response, still picking at his nails. An awkward silence had fallen between you two, neither knowing what to say next. It was crazy to think there could ever come a time where you didn’t find comfort in his silence. Daryl was never the most talkative person, you knew this. But regardless, back then it didn’t bother you. You just enjoyed being around him. He was home.

Used to be at least.

It was time to face the reality that you weren’t the same girl you were before the world ended. In fact, you stopped being that girl the moment you escaped your stepmother’s tyranny. You were happy to know Daryl survived so long in this fucked up dystopia, but all his presence has done since his group got to Alexandria was bring back memories you wanted to erase, and cause a rift between you and Aiden.

“He treat you good?” Daryl finally filled the silence. You knew he was talking about Aiden. “He does.” You nod, which Daryl does too. “You love him?” The question catches you off guard, and you’re not sure how to answer because the truth was, you weren’t sure if you loved Aiden. You knew you cared about him though. “Doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does.”

“Well, it shouldn’t. My love life, and life isn’t your concern anymore.” You snap, agitatedly. “You should just go before Aiden comes by. You can let yourself out.” You walk past him, heading back to your couch, mentally cursing yourself for not pretending to be asleep instead of answering the door.

Daryl could feel the disconnection between you and him; he couldn’t understand why, but it was truly starting to frustrate him how you had been writing him off lately. Like he wasn’t an important part of your life once. “Man, what happened to you? Ever since I got here you been distant, and actin’ like you barely know me. I don’t understand why.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need to understand. We’re not having this conversation right now. Just go.” You speak sternly, pointing to the door. Daryl scoffs. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til you tell me why,” he wasn’t letting up, and you could feel your nerves taking over the more he prodded. “All these years, all that searchin’ just for you to act like it meant nothing. Hell was it for?”

“I’m not doing this.” You turn once more to walk away, but his strong grip on your wrist prevents it, and you’re spun back around to face him.

“Tell me why!”

You snatch your wrist away. “Because you’re a constant reminder, and I hate it, okay?!” You spat. “I fucking hate it! It didn’t mean anything. You didn’t mean anything. We were trauma bonded. We shared the same scars, that’s it. Once I found my courage to run, I threw away the crutches that held me back. I buried my past and everything that came with it.” Hearing your own words fly out of your mouth breaks your heart in two.

Daryl stares at you. His eyes are a bit watery, but he doesn’t shed a tear. He fights it, the way he always has. “S’all I was, huh? A crutch that held you back?” You swallow the lump at the back of your throat, not responding out of fear of breaking down. He nods his head. “I get it.” Is all he says before he’s finally about to exit your home.

The brunette only opens the door halfway before halting. “Y’know… after you left, I regretted not going with you like you wanted me to. I regretted it everyday.” He finally leaves with those being his last words, slamming the door behind him.

You flinch at the slam, eyes squeezing shut. Your bottom lip quivered and chest tightened in pain. You wanted to run after him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Tears fall now that you were left alone in your own space. Your hand flies over your mouth to muffle the uncontrollable sobs that were starting to slip through.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 32

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Threats of SA; Threats of harming an infant; Distressed baby

Rick had stopped at every sign, letting you out while Carol or Lori cared for Birdie. You had used a tube of the baby’s diaper cream to paint a white bird on each surface. There were likely better things you have used but this one, you knew Daryl would understand and follow. Anxiety was slowly crushing your chest and try as you might to swallow it down, it was nearly impossible to bear.

It was at least an hour of Birdie crying restlessly before the warehouse was found. The dead surrounding it were little in number, easily dispatched by those that weren’t a child, pregnant woman, or one who had a baby suckling at her breast. You carried a bag on each shoulder into the building, wishing it were enough to help you feel like you were doing your part. 

You sat away from the door, knowing that’s where Daryl would have placed you and his daughter, furthest from any entry point. It was also to hinder her cries from attracting anymore walkers. She was inconsolable, something—mother’s intuition, perhaps—telling you that she had been made worse by the absence of her father. And as much as you loved their bond, you wondered how dangerous it could prove to be to encourage it. 

“I said leave it, Lori!”

Your head snapped up to find Rick stalking toward the door with his wife on his heels, her hands below her protruding belly as she attempted to keep up with him. “Rick. Rick, we need to talk this out!”

“No!” He barked. “What we need to do is survive, and we can’t do that if I don’t stay focused.” When she tried again, he turned with a shake of his head, leaving her there with tears in her eyes. 

“Lori.” You whispered, getting to your feet. It was difficult to get off the floor with a baby but you managed. You couldn’t stand to see her like that. No, Lori wasn’t perfect and she made a mistake. She had been alone with a child, acting out of fear once she had been told her husband was dead. Maybe she had loved Shane. Maybe she hadn’t. No one talked about it and perhaps they shouldn’t. It was all irrelevant anyway. Lori was there and pregnant and hurting so deeply. “Hey.”

“Oh. Hey, uh—” The woman turned and wiped at her eyes as if you hadn’t already noticed the glimmer of moisture. “Hey, Y/N.” Her eyes were drawn down to the wriggling bundle in your arms, little squeaks and sniffles escaping from behind the blanket. “How’s little Birdie?”

“She’s fine.” You lied, flinching when the newborn screeched. Taking a moment to move her onto your shoulder and begin patting her back, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I think she’s missing Daryl.”

“Yeah.” A gentle hand reached to pet the back of Birdie’s head. “Y/N, I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Lori was always so strong for everyone, her thoughts on the decisions that would affect the group never going unspoken. But then, at that moment, she sounded so small, so uncertain. 

“Don’t be.” You caught her hand before she could pull it back, holding it tightly. “I love Rick but he’s wrong. He’s wrong and he’ll realize it. I’m just so sorry that he’s hurting you like this in the meantime.” You stood by your words. Rick was trying to do what was right for the group, but even that was being influenced by the anger he harbored. For Shane. For Lori. For himself. 

“I deserve it. 

You blinked, mouth agape. “You do not!” You shook your head incredulously. “Look, you made a mistake. Doesn’t mean you need to pay for it over and over.” She mimicked you, her hair swinging back and forth. 

“No, I really do.”

“Lori.” You said pointedly. She looked you in the eye, face wet and flushed. “I get it. You were angry with him for what he did to Shane. It was a lot to take in and maybe your first reaction wasn’t the best one, but you’re trying to talk now, trying to understand. He’ll come around.” You gave a shrug. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll sic Daryl on him.” You smiled when she laughed wetly. 

Lori reached for your shoulders, pulling you in for a wide hug that angled to one side, Birdie and her belly making it laughable. “Thank you, Y/N.” She wiped her face with one hand, cupping yours with the other. “You know, I was a fool for thinking you were trouble when Daryl carried you out of those trees. I’m sorry for that.”

You waved dismissively with a quiet pfft. “Don’t worry about it. I am trouble.” Her smile dampened but didn’t disappear. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” Birdie began to root against your neck with a series of coos and squeaks. “And we wouldn’t have this angel if you weren’t.”

Chuckling you began to wiggle your arm out of your shirt, Lori stepping forward to help. “Now if I can just get her daddy to eat as much as she does, we’ll be set.” Before you could situate your bra, the baby began to fuss, growing louder with each cry. 

“Well, she sure sounds like her father.” 

“Facts.” You nodded, grinning and guiding Birdie to your breast. “Grab Carl and come sit with me? We can work on some math.”

The sun had set, the knot in your chest growing tighter with each minute that Daryl didn’t walk through the door. Beth had taken Birdie to give you a few minutes of peace with Carol sitting just behind you. 

“He’ll be here. Daryl’s smart. And so are you for the signs you left for him.” She was brushing your hair, pampering you the only ways she knew how with the limited means at her disposal. 

“I hope he’s okay. What if he’s hurt? What if he ran into the herd?” You were twisting the front of the sweater you had thrown on when the temperature had dropped even lower. 

“He’s smart, Y/N.” You heard the quiet sound of the brush being sat aside. The woman’s hands began to work at your shoulders, eliciting a moan from you and a chuckle from her. “He’ll be here.” You nodded, hearing Birdie begin to cry in the back of the warehouse. 

“I’m being summoned.” You jested. Carol was smiling when you turned around and levered to your feet. Birdie was still crying, the sound echoing like a scene out of a horror movie. “Carol.” Your voice had gone low, serious. “Why isn’t Beth bringing her?”

“She’s likely trying to soothe her on her own. She looks up to you and wants to help.”

Beth looked up to you? Oh, that poor child. You were no one’s role model. 

You listened for a moment more, your brow creasing, lips turning downward in a deep frown. “Carol.” You waited for her reply before continuing. “You remember how you told me that I would be able to tell the difference between cries?”

“Yeah?”

“I think this one is telling me something’s wrong.” Your stomach was churning, the knot of anxiety twisting in your chest was no longer for Daryl but for Birdie, a deep sense of foreboding that your child was affirming. Something. Was. Wrong. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s go check in then.” 

You nodded, feet moving with such haste that it took the other woman a quick jog to catch up. Birdie’s squalling had reached a new level, the breaths between cries barely audible in their stuttering. Without thought, you began to run, your tired body attempting to futilely resist. 

“Beth? Carl?” You shouted, the sounds of snarls and hands slapping the outside of the building growing louder with each inch of space you covered. “Beth!” The girl wasn’t answering. Lori and Maggie frantically called your name from somewhere behind you but Birdie’s desperate wails for her mother easily drowned them out. 

When you saw her, so small and fragile on the cold concrete, little limbs flailing, nothing else mattered. There was no blanket. No knit hat on her head. She was in only a diaper. 

“Oh god, Birdie!” What happened? Where were Beth and Carl? You didn’t stop, you needed your baby in your arms. The reasoning no longer mattered. You needed to ensure her well being before asking any questions. Nearly there, you exhaled. 

“Y/N, look out!” 

Without breaking stride, you turned toward Rick’s voice just in time to see the butt of the rifle. 

And then there was nothing.

Your head was throbbing, your pulse finding its way up to where the wet warmth was leaking from just above your right eyebrow. Struggling to open your eyes, you strained to focus through the rush of blood in your ears, the pounding of dead hands on the building’s exterior, desperately locating your baby’s panicked screeching. 

“Birdie.” You whispered, certain it was slurring. Your mouth just couldn’t form around the syllables. When everything finally cleared, you could see her. The tremble from the cold shook her tiny form. “Oh my god.” You whispered, attempting to struggle to your feet only to find that your hands were bound to a weighty shipping palette. 

Subduing your panic long enough to survey your surroundings, the glow of three kerosene lamps cast a pale yellow luminosity over the entirety of your group—similarly bound—with Rick and Beth struggling against the rope while the other heads remained bowed in a subdued level of unconsciousness. You turned your attention back to your newborn and renewed your fight against the restraints, your skin chafing and breaking open. 

“Mama’s here, baby girl.” Birdie would not be consoled. If anything, she grew more agitated. 

“So you’re the one stupid enough to have a shit-smearing biter magnet.” 

Your head snapped to the left, toward the roll-up doors. A group you hadn’t noticed leaned against the metal, armed to the teeth and reeking of mayhem. 

“The fuck do you want?” You snarled, a protective mother’s venom lacing every word. 

The single woman in the posse laughed, malicious and entertained. “Some fun.” She shrugged, her face split into a grin that made your teeth itch. “That’s really all there is left in this world. Survival and fun.” Lowering her rifle from its perch on her shoulder, she crossed the distance between the two of you and crouched. “We’re gonna take everything you have.” A finger traced your jawline, down your neck and circled your clothed nipple. “Everything.”

“Then we’re gonna let that gremlin bring the biters in to take care of the rest.” One of the men added without so much as a glance away from his handgun, the walkers growing louder as if they could hear and comprehend the promise of a fresh meal. 

Giving your breast a squeeze, the woman stood, scanning your group appreciatively before her eyes lingered on Lori. “Boys, you can take that one. I got no interest in that full belly.” She pointed the barrel of her gun at you. You never so much as flinched, your baby’s wails fueling a rage you’d never before felt. “I want her. And the kids.”

“You’re vile.” Hershel said in that level tone that usually ground on your nerves. In that moment, you found it more than fitting. 

“Ugh,” the female rolled her eyes. “Kill him first. No one wants those wrinkly old balls in their face.”

The words left you before you could even consider their consequences. “You’re gonna die today.” When she smirked at you, your steely glare remained. She lowered to a knee and pressed the muzzle into your chin. You barely contained a wince when your head was forced to tilt back. 

“What I’m gonna do is fuck that ruined pussy with this rifle and listen to your baby scream.”

Twisting onto your left hip, you brought up your right leg, your boot connecting with her temple just as she sat back. “Bitch.” You seethed, watching her topple over. Another man rushed you, his fist snapping your head to the side, reigniting the stars in your vision that you had only just managed to lose. 

“She’s gonna be fun, boys.” Staggering to her feet, she stumbled over to Birdie and pointed the rifle at the infant’s head. “Maybe I’ll just shoot the little one and let your screams bring the biters in when we’re done with you.”

“No!” Your anger faded to fear within a split second, the various voices of your then conscious and collective group pleading for your baby’s life. “Okay, okay. I’ll cooperate!” You bartered. “Just wrap her up. Please.” 

“I don’t think so, mama bear.” 

A noise from the front of the warehouse drew her attention, but not yours. Your wide, wet eyes were glued to that gun aimed at your daughter. Please, Daryl.

“Think the biters got in?” An older guy asked, hocking up mucus and spitting it at your feet. 

“Maybe. Go check it out.”

He obliged with a shrug, whistling the entire way until he disappeared into the darkness. 

The taunting continued, the other three group members moving from person to person, pointing out in disturbingly vivid detail what they liked or disliked about that individual. You paid them no more mind, instead watching the little contorted red face of your baby girl. You couldn’t warm her, comfort her. How could I let this happen?

“What the fuck?” 

Blinking back the fat tears you had given silent permission to fall, you followed everyone’s perplexed gazes toward the front of the warehouse. The old man staggered out of the darkness, a spray of blood his predecessor. His throat was gaping wide. 

“Gary?” The woman hyperventilated, her rifle nearly falling from suddenly inept fingers as his body collapsed to the concrete, not to move again. He must have meant something to her. 

Good. You smiled wryly. 

“Come out!” One of the other men shouted, prompting crazy lady to raise her own weapon. 

Your eyes flickered back to Birdie, yanking and wiggling against your bonds again, the ropes wet with your blood and unyielding. The baby was wearing herself out, cries simmering to shivering breaths and hiccups. The ropes did not give. Bitch could tie a knot, you’d give her that. 

“Oh.” The woman’s voice was suddenly excited as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I think papa bear’s joined the party.” She made a show of deliberately placing herself just above Birdie, moving her rifle a fraction of an inch before you watched Daryl, blood-saturated and dirty, step out of the shadows.

“Don’t point that thing at ‘er again.” He wasn’t pleading. He was demanding. 

The woman’s eyes sparkled, her free hand covering her mouth in an oopsie expression while she redirected the gun—finger on the trigger—right at you. “Is this better, your majesty?” In a flurry of clicks and shouted warnings, Daryl’s crossbow was aimed at her while all other weapons held him in their crosshairs. 

“M’a give ya one chance to walk outta here.”

She cackled, throwing back her head. “I don’t think you’re—”

“One chance.” Daryl repeated, his mouth unseen from behind his weapon. “Ya’d do well to take it.” There was a tremble to his frame visible even from the distance that lay between you. If you could see it, so could they. The only difference being that you knew it wasn’t from fear. 

“I want him too.” The woman jerked her chin toward your partner. “Put down the bow, pretty boy. You’re not gonna waste any ammo today.”

“Won’t be a waste.” With a quick twist of his torso, three things happened simultaneously: The crossbow fired. The ropes around your wrists went slack, the sleek length of the bolt pressing just against your skin. And Daryl stepped back into the shadows, a barrage of bullets following his retreat. 

With the enemies’ attention on the unknown whereabouts of the archer, you scrambled across the floor and scooped up your baby, throwing yourself backward onto your ass to slide behind the pallets that had held you. Her skin was so chilled, her tiny frame shivering as her distressed cries renewed in their intensity. 

“Mama’s got you, baby. Daddy’s here. Daddy came for us. It’s okay.” One arm at a time, you managed to pull yourself free of your sweater and bundled her up. You drew up your knees and held her close to your chest, shielding and warming her simultaneously. “They won’t touch you again.” 

Glass shattered, the area dimming as a bolt destroyed one of the old lamps. 

“Come out, you bastard!” 

Another lamp fell victim to Daryl’s aim. 

“Where is he?”

With a final sound that echoed for more than a moment, the environment was cast into darkness with only the myriad of gunfire battling the shadows that Daryl was using to his advantage. With each discharge, you curled tighter around your daughter, her howls splintering every inch of your heart. You longed to hold her properly, soothe her, fight away the fear that clawed relentlessly to sink its claws into such a space of innocence. You wanted to join the fray, rip out their throats, but Birdie needed you exactly where you were.

And she would always come first.

The number of weapons that fired continued to dwindle, the cling of metal against the concrete preceded by a shout or gurgle. 

Your archer was taking them down one by one. 

You wanted to see it, wanted to witness them suffer, even if it was for a mere moment but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk Birdie’s safety. 

“Someone get him!”

“Where the hell  is he?!”

“The fuck should I—” Another gurgle, another thud. 

“Fuck!” The woman screamed, her voice carrying from somewhere further away. You couldn’t be certain if Daryl had intercepted her or if she was simply fleeing, but as long as she was far away from your group—your family—you didn’t care. 

“Y/N.” Carol’s voice somehow managed to break through the chaos in your head, your eyes searching her out in the darkness. “Y/N, he got them. Can you—” 

“Yeah.” You breathed shakily, unfurling from around Birdie to shuffle blindly forward, bowed over the little bundle to ensure you didn’t knock her into anything that might be in your way. “Yeah, I’m coming.” 

You found Rick first, cutting his ropes one-handed with a piece of glass from one of the lamps. Lucky you, it had been found by sliding your knee over it. 

“Take care of her, I’ll get everyone else.” He instructed. You nodded, knowing the deputy couldn’t see but it was all you had in you at that moment. 

“Where’s Daryl?” Beth asked, her young mind falling right into sync with yours. 

Why hadn’t he come to you immediately? Was he hurt? Had he given chase to the woman? 

You squinted against the flashlight’s beam, one eye clenching shut as you found Carol kneeling over one of the men, a bolt lodged in the right side of his neck. His head was at an odd angle, suggesting that the puncture had not been the end for him. 

With your family surrounding you, all eyes wide and cautious, looking for danger, watching for Daryl, you finally settled but only in the slightest. Muscles still tense, you shifted Birdie, drawing up your knees to place her on your elevated thighs. 

“Hey, there, little Dixon. Ssh, it’s all okay now.” Slipping a hand beneath the sweater, the relief of feeling warming skin nearly brought you to collapse. 

“How is she doing?” Hershel asked, his voice elevated to be heard clearly over the distraught infant. Your strength was nearly at its end. 

“She’s cold, Hershel. It—the sweater’s helping but she’s still so cold.” Your fingers were stroking her cheeks, brushing through wispy blonde hair, rubbing her belly over the sweater while careful of the drying umbilical cord. 

“Babies are resilient, Y/N. And this little doll just happens to have the genes of one of the most stubborn men I have had the pleasure of knowing.” A gentle hand rested on your shoulder. “I’d like to take a look at her all the same. May I?”

With a sniffle, you lifted Birdie, her tiny head just beneath your chin. One last gentle squeeze, you supported her head and passed her over to the veterinarian, scrubbing your hands over your face as you stood. You must have looked a wreck, but you needed to find Daryl, needed to hold him almost as desperately as you had needed to cling to your child. 

“Please! Just let me go!”

You spun where you stood, searching out the woman. “Daryl?”

“Were ya gonna let them go?” Daryl’s voice was menacing, his tone low and bleeding with promise of maleficence. You were acutely aware of others trailing as you followed the voices, moving boxes and stepping around tools to climb the stairs to the second level.  

“I—”

“Mm-mm. Don’t.” He spat, the sound of more containers falling over against the wall. “Don’t bother.” 

He came into view a little at a time, more with each step you climbed. His crossbow was on the floor. His crimson hands were empty. Still, the woman cowered, backing toward the windows with her body folded, palms up over her head in surrender. 

“Daryl!” You tried, but he didn’t acknowledge you. 

“Just let me go. I’m the only one left and I—Please, I don’t wanna die.”

Suddenly your feet wouldn’t carry you, heavy laden and stuck to the floor with the weight of your disbelief. You wanted to laugh just as much as you wanted to pluck the knife strapped to Daryl’s hip and slit her throat yourself. 

“Ya threatened my girl. Ya wanted to use my daughter as walker bait!” The archer hissed, his fingers flexing in and out of fists. “A fuckin’ baby an’ ya wanted to kill ‘er.”

You could hear the others at the top of the stairs, halting just behind you with the same interest of watching the scene play out, trusting Daryl to do what was right. 

But what was right?

“Ain’t gonna kill ya.” He finally said, tilting his head as the woman began to stand straight, the fear dissolving before your eyes. Daryl was a better person than you could ever be. If he walked away, it was going to take every single individual on that landing to restrain you. 

“Thank you. I’m so sorry. Thank you. I’ll disappear, I’ll change. I won’t—”

He moved so fast, grabbing her shoulders while driving the sole of his boot straight into her knee, the sickening snap of bone causing your stomach to roll while a sense of vindication washed over you. 

She needed to hurt. She needed to suffer.

Her screams stimulated the walkers around the building, their rotten fingers scraping against the metal, palms pounding, teeth gnashing. 

Daryl spoke loudly, holding her up by fistfuls of her shirt, his face inches from hers. “Said I ain’t gonna kill ya. Never said ya weren’t gonna die.” He shoved her, his boot once again connecting with her body, a kick to the abdomen with enough force to send her soaring backward. She crashed through the window, nothing but the splintered wood and shards of glass accompanying her to the ground.

Straight into the herd of ravenous undead. 

And her blood curdling wails of agony were music to your ears. 

[sinsandsweetness]

Wellllllll…… I just read one Rec from someone and holy. Stepdad Rick isn’t my thing but still hot. I was thinking what if it was Shane instead. Or Daryl. Sneaking around behind Rick’s back. But ugh, Rick is so hot tho. Decisions decisions. More like Dad’s best friend maybe?

now that’s hot as hell. Idk who Dad would be but best friend trope could work for any combination possible I would think… (all of them!? 🙈 short of a orgy, I can’t see either Dixon putting up with Shane even for something like that but hey)

been thinking about this every hour since it appeared in my inbox… (Shane is my guilty pleasure fr. would let him do disgusting things to me)

I think I’m seeing your vision… lemme know what you think💗

PICK YOUR POISON

(Rick & Shane & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+, smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, references of sex, multiple partners, the boys are kinda pervs but it’s ok cause ur legal and this is fiction <3 2.1k word count

You open the door to the garage and make your way down the stairs. Not even bothering to slip any shoes on. Your mom keeps the epoxy floors absolutely pristine, so there’s really no reason. Plus, your toenail polish is still a little tacky. Bright, bubble gum pink polish and a silver toe ring adorning your foot. The smell of liquor and smoke has filled the garage. Accompanied by the deep, rugged voices and dry laughs coming from your fathers closest friends.

“You know mom hates it when you smoke in the house.” You say all matter of fact, leaning up against the bar-tops, marble counter. You can feel your tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. But the animalistic looks coming from your dads three closest friends, force you to let it drop. To let them see.

Your father puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar. Rolling his eyes at you. “Well good thing we’re in the garage then.”

You ignore his attitude.

“Mom needs you.”

“For what?”

“To drop her off at Cindy’s.”

He seems irritated. But all five of you can hear the rain. There’s no way any half decent husband should let his wife walk to her monthly book club meeting in this weather.

“Just- keep your mouth shut about the smokes. And grab everyone another drink. Make sure they don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You father jokes, ruffling up Daryl’s hair on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

You wave an innocent goodbye as you watch him through the garage door windows, backing out of the driveway. Your mother in the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at you.

“Well… whatcha drinkin’?” You ask Rick, who’s sat in the middle. Glass empty, with a lone, melting ice cube clinking around in the bottom.

“Rum and coke.” He answers, licking his lips.

“Spiced?” You ask. A flirty smile playing on your face as you bite your bottom lip.

They’re all staring. Jaws clenched and breathing slowly.

You know what you’re doing. You can tell by the way they’re all looking at you. You can practically see the wheels turning in their brains.

They shouldn’t be thinking this way about their friends daughter. About their best friends little girl. Well… not so little anymore. You’d just turned 21. Hell, they were at the party. Giving you the exact same looks they’re giving you right now.

The ones they definitely shouldn’t be.

But they are.

They’re thinking about your thin, frilly, pyjama shorts, and how they can see the purple g string pulled up over your hips. How they can see your belly ring through the fabric of your tank top, and imagining what it would feel like against their lips as they kiss their way down your stomach. And you know they’re thinking about bending you over the bar counter and taking turns at fucking you until they hear the sound of your dads diesel pulling into the driveway. How you’d have to play pretend for your father, ignoring the fact that your panties are soaking through with three different men’s cum, and maybe even a mix of your own. The salty liquids threatening to drip down your inner thigh as you politely excuse yourself from the garage. Coming up with any bullshit excuse to go lay on your bed and rub your clit until you’re seeing stars. Imagining each of their faces in between your legs, spreading you open and eating you up.

You know they’re thinking it, because you are too. It’s the only thing you can think about in this moment, while pouring Rick a double spiced rum and coke. Taking a sip and then handing it him. Making sure your fingers touch.

When you turn to ask Shane what he wants, he gets up. Insisting that you won’t know how to make an old fashioned. You only just turned 21 after all. You probably haven’t even had one before.

But he’s wrong. They’re your dads favourite and you’d been making them for him since you were 16. But you didn’t tell Shane that. Instead you let him walk around the bar, come up behind you and press himself against your back. Letting a tiny gasp escape at the feeling of his, very hard, cock pressing into your bum. Pushing you even further against the counter. His chest is warm against you. And his hands are big and calloused as he guides your own, pouring the perfect amount of bitters, simple syrup and bourbon over a huge, king sized ice cube that he’d retrieved from the freezer.

Finally, taking a slice of orange, meticulously cut up and organized in little containers on the bar top. It was something your mother was always very fond of; organizing the liquors and the garnishes, ensuring that your father could host a proper poker night or barbecue. Or whatever the fuck they stayed up all night doing in their little man cave. Not knowing that you were upstairs, awake and playing with your favourite vibrator, listening to their rock music through your bedroom floor.

“And then you twist it, like this…” Shane’s lips are actually brushing your ear. And you don’t mean to, but your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His free hand moves to your waist as he tosses the orange peel in the drink, lifting it up and bringing the cold glass to your lips.

“Try it.” He says. And though you can’t see him because he’s still behind you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You take a sip. A small one. Immediately scrunching your face at the two men still sitting across you. Their lips curl into an amused smile as they watch you swallow the amber liquid.

“Not my favourite.” You whisper as Shane leans back. Only for a second before he’s turned you around and trapped you once more, back to the bar this time.

“Well we did forget one thing,” He says, reaching over to a jar on the counter. Maraschino cherries. Your favourite.

“And I know how much you like these.” He teases, referring to all the cherries he caught you adding to your piña coladas at a neighbors pool party only a couple weeks ago.

He dips a single cherry in the drink. Taking it by the stem and lifting it to your mouth. You don’t hesitate in wrapping your lips around it. The bitter taste of the bourbon on the fruit doesn’t last long. A sweet, sugary syrup bleeds over your tastebuds as you bite into the cherry. And a moan manages to escape your throat. It’s quiet. You think maybe it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. But the smile on Shane’s lips and the dry laugh coming from behind you, tell you that it didn’t.

Shane is still pushed up against you, cock strained in his jeans and pressed right against your stomach. His hand gripping your hip and forcing you to stay against the counter. And the way he’s looking down at you. Fuck, the way they’re all looking at you. Watching you start to squirm under their gaze.

“It’s good.” You swallow. Trying to maintain a confident, big girl attitude. But truthfully, you just want them to peel your clothes off, and let you melt into their arms as you cum all over their cocks.

“Daryl’s drink is still empty, sweetheart.” Rick’s gravelly voice pulls you back.

“Right.”

Shane gives your hip one last squeeze before he walks back to his barstool. Next to Rick. They cheers quietly and sip on their drinks. Watching intently as you try to compose yourself.

“What’s your poison?” You turn to the last man, lighting what was probably his second or third cigarette of the night. Glancing up at you and taking a draw. Slowly inhaling and exhaling. And though your mother was not a fan, you fucking loved it. You wanted to crawl onto his lap and have him blow the smoke right between your lips as you rode his cock, letting the other two men watch and touch themselves to the sight of you getting off on another guy.

But you didn’t.

“Just a beer, sunshine.” He pushes his empty glass forward for you. You grab it and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a brand new, frosted mug from the freezer.

“Which one?”

“Bud’s fine.”

You grab a bottle and skillfully pour it into the mug, coming around the bar this time to hand it to him. Intentionally placing yourself between him and Rick, reaching over and setting the glass in front of him.

To no one’s surprise, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Rick’s fingers tracing dangerously close to the thin band of your panties.

“Those are really bad for you, y’know.”

You get bold again. Stepping onto the foot rest of Rick’s barstool, and taking a seat right on his lap. The hand on your back only helping guide you on to him. Quickly finding its way around your waist as you make yourself comfortable.

Daryl only grunts. Hiding a smile at your silly comment. He’d seen you smoke. Hell, he’d snuck out of multiple dinner parties to have one with you.

“You gonna share?” You ask.

Hesitantly he hands it over, and you take it with two fingers. Taking a long drag in and then turning to face Rick again, before you slowly exhale. Trying to focus the smoke onto his lips more than anything.

“What the hell would your father think if he could see you right now?” Shane asks, leaning back in his chair and palming the hard on, still evident in his jeans.

“Think he’d probably try and beat you’re asses.” You say. And while you’re answering Shane, your focus is solely on Rick. The scruff on his face. His bright blue eyes, taunting you and begging you to lean in. Just an inch closer so that he can catch your lips.

“Think he’d win?” Rick asks, glancing down at your own lips.

“Not a chance.” You smile.

He closes the space between you, and you taste rum on the tongue that traces yours. Rick’s hand going to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you blindly try to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. You start to move. Trying to maneuver your position so that you’d have a leg on either side of him, straddling his very apparent bulge. But right as you start to moan against his mouth, you hear the truck pull up and park. Practically jumping off of Rick and standing in between him and Daryl’s barstools. Fixing your hair as the heat rises to your cheeks. The men chuckle at your flustered appearance. Waiting for their friend to enter through the side door of the garage.

“Hi dad.” You say, smiling politely and pulling your tank top down to cover the strip of skin visible where it had previously rode up.

“Hey, hun. Glad to see they weren’t too much trouble for ya.” You father aproaches and slaps a hand on Shane’s back. Sitting down next to him and grabbing the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket.

“Y’wannanother drink, daddy?” You ask. Daryl clears his throat. And you see Ricks eyes go wide as Shane tries to hide his smile.

“Please. Old fashioned, darling. Y’want some of that pink stuff we found last week? Bubbly… something or other. It’s in the fridge.”

You watch Shane the whole time that you make the old fashioned. Clearly showing him that you knew exactly how your dad liked it. Carefully placing the cocktail on the counter in front of them.

“Thanks doll.” Your dad says, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Reaching over the counter and handing one to Rick who lights it. Watching you the whole time. Tendrils of smoke, floating up to the ceiling of the garage. You turn around. Bending over and being sure to stay searching for the bottle of rosé about thirty seconds longer than you really needed to. You pour a glass as the men discuss what the next move was. What they should do for the night. Considering it’s still a work night, and they all have a supply run pretty early in the morning.

“You wanna play some cards, sweetie?” Your dad asks. You scrunch your nose at him, taking a nice long sip of your sparkling wine.

“What? You got somewhere better to be?” Shane teases.

You huff a semi-annoyed breath, looking around for a spare stool. Even though you already knew there were only 4. Ricks eyes glimmer as he pats his left thigh, inviting you back on.

To your surprise, your dad pays you no mind, already starting to shuffle the deck of cards as you hesitantly take your seat back on top of Rick. Loving the way his hand curls around your thighs and tugs you even further on top of him. And the the way that Shane looks a little jealous that he hadn’t offered first. And you’re especially loving the way Daryl shifts on his stool just the tiniest bit closer, so that his leg grazes yours every now and then.

“All right, here’s the rules…” You hear your dad starts to explain, already dealing you each some cards. But you don’t hear him. You don’t even look in his direction. You’re way too focused on the taste of Rick that lingers on your lips, and the way your clit is actually fucking pulsing. Begging for attention. And truthfully, your mind can’t help but wander, thinking about what might have happened if your dad had taken any longer to get back home.

part 2

-

(I’m picturing readers dad as Tobin in Alexandria. Someone like that at least. With a Carol-esque mother. But picture whoever you’d like! Just thought I’d share what I was kinda thinking…)

taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker

[carlsangel]

his guardian angel (g.i.t.w, ch 6)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warning: breaking bones, blood all that jazz

masterlist here!

other chapters here! (plus a map to alexandria to make it make sense is here!)

Seeing Carl get shot was something you expected back when you first met him. Granted, back then you were making assumptions to tell yourself not to get attached. You didn’t expect him to get shot, but you told yourself he could. Seeing it was different than imagining it. He’s told you everything about himself. Maybe it was a bit fast for only knowing him a week, but you were the only person who would understand.

He told you about Lori. Every detail about her. The fact that her bathroom had a very distinct smell that came from a wallflower she used the same scent in all the time. He talked about the memories he had of walking in when he was little and she’d be putting her hair up in a clip or putting on deodorant. He mentioned her terrible pancakes she made on Sundays as well. He was grateful for his dog.

He talked about his dog that he had before the turn as well. He didn’t only feed Lori’s terrible pancakes to him but he also spent a lot of time with him. Sometimes if he fell while playing outside and scraped his skin, his dog would lick his face to make him laugh. It was a precious dog, from what he remembers.

His memories with Shane, well those were so sweet. He remembers his first day of school one year, he was sort of nervous. He wasn’t sure why, he was really little but he remembers Shane trying to make him feel better. It mostly worked, he went to school and had an amazing day. When his dad and Shane got home, they celebrated with pizza. He also talked to you about how he didn’t want those memories to be tainted by the fact that he watched him die so young. He realized that his dad had a reason to kill him as he got older, and he felt bad for resenting Rick like he did.

Thinking about everything he told you, right in that moment when he was shot, hurt like hell. It terrified you, almost like it was all for nothing. He didn’t deserve it. He shouldn’t have been there, in that spot in that moment. His life flashed before your eyes.

But that couldn’t stop you from doing what you came for,

You focus back on Carl and watch as his dad picks him up. You wanted to ensure he’d get somewhere safe. You wanted to help him. If you couldn’t be on the floor with him, you could serve as his guardian angel.

He has people protecting him in every which way, his dad runs through the walkers with him in his arms, in front of him is the woman who you know to be Michonne. She’s slicing through them like they were nothing, meanwhile you begin to shoot. Any walker that approaches Rick at his sides, you kill. You find out the general direction they are running to, so you clear the entrance for them. Meanwhile you can hear walkers pooling at the bottom of the house you were on top of. It didn’t occur to you that there may be people inside.

So you panic. You clear a couple more walkers through the path and they get him inside. If you drop from the roof of the front of house, the building they ran into is straight ahead. He’s safe now, you can go to him. So you do. You safely maneuver yourself to the front of the roof to find there’s a somewhat of a clear path. It was now or never. You slide down the roof and hit the floor quite hard; a sharp pain overtaking any other feeling in your body. Your feet tingle and you feel like you can’t walk but you have to. You have to run.

There were walkers left and right, you used the back of your rifle to push them away. You can’t help but think that this run feels like forever, especially with your backpack and rifle dragging you down. Not to mention the excruciating pain in your ankle. You run onto the porch and slam into the door, you scramble to get the door open but instead, someone opens it and pulls you inside. With pulling you inside, they also pull you to the floor. You hit the floor hard, your backpack and the belongings inside jabbing into your back and you wince. Above you was Rick, an axe in his hand which he held to you.

“Who are you?” His voice is grim and gruff. You didn’t realize it but your hands were raised as if you were in a stick up. Michonne rushes over and pulls him off you. The others in the room are shocked to see you, especially Aaron. He’d look for you constantly before Carl, he’s the one who supplied you with a lot without even interacting. “She’s just a kid.” He shouts. “The Ghost in the Woods. She’s just a kid.” Aaron says in astonishment. You sit up, letting your backpack and rifle slide off your shoulder and you press your hand against your back to alleviate the pain. “Holy shit.” You croak, Aaron moves to help you. He gets you standing and while he does that, you can’t help but notice Rick storm out of the building, which you soon learn is the infirmary.

Upon standing up you see Carl and the wound in his eye. You pull from Aaron to look at him, then the woman working on him. “He’s alive?” You question in pure disbelief. How did he manage to live? “Yes, for now, but I need space to work on him. Sit down and I’ll check on you after.” She orders, focusing on the sutures in his eye. You nod and let Aaron help you. Soon everyone’s rushed out of the infirmary. You sit there in silence, listening to the sound of people grunting and shouting as they fight the dead. It’s just you, the doctor, and Carl.

You’re somewhere you never thought you’d be in a million years.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

A couple hours later, after finding out you’d broken your ankle after hopping off roofs a bunch, you were told you’d be stuck in the infirmary. All the walkers were killed, you were told about some fire in the large pond Alexandria had and you were sad to miss it. People came in and out, getting checked up while you rested. While sleeping, you couldn’t help but recognize a familiar voice. Your eyes flicker open and you look to the people in the room.

You’re so delirious, that when you wake up to be met with the sight of your sister, you think you are dead. Or dreaming. It’s a cruel ass dream if it is. But, you know you aren’t because your head is pounding and the pain in your ankle is throbbing. She barely walks in the door and sees you. She calls out to you so you sit yourself up and rub your eyes, but she’s already tackling you in a hug. That’s when you knew it was all real. You can smell and feel her hair, plus the soft jolts that come from her body as she sobs into your shoulder.

She looks so different. She’s drenched in blood. Her face is more mature and her hair is longer. She looks incredibly tired. But she’s absolutely ecstatic. “I’ve been looking for you.” She tells you, pulling away from your shoulder to admire you. Granted you’re covered in walker insides and you smell like shit, but she still admires you. “You have?” You mutter. She nods and smiles brightly. “I just arrived here with a group. The…leader his name is Rick. How did you get here?” She looks concerned as she gently holds the back of your head, taking in your presence.

“It’s a long story.”

She sits in bed with you and you share your stories. Apparently she found the group after the prison fell and had been with them since. Carl never really mentioned her, you didn’t notice her when she arrived at the gate either, mainly because you were too focused on Carl. She also looks nothing like she did when you’d last seen her. When she arrived her hair was a massive mess that didn’t give you a chance to look at her face. All the other times you could’ve observed her you spent with Carl. She felt bad when she found out how you’d been living. Being the Ghost in the Woods and all.

A bit later, maybe a day and a half went by and you hadn’t seen Carl. Now, you were clean and patched up. You left him alone for a while, just because he was upset about losing his eye. It freaked him out and he needed time to process. Although, he was relieved to hear that you were there. But, soon enough, your sister took you into his room to see him. He was awake and sat up in bed. He was happy to see you. You trudge in, your arm on your sister’s shoulder and shes holding on you tightly around the waist. She sits you down at the edge of his bed and you look at him for a moment and just smile. He looks between you and your sister. It takes him a moment and he squints his eye.

“That’s…” He croaks out. He soon realizes how similar you two look and he puts the pieces together. “Your sister.” He smiles softly, quite shocked but still calm and quiet. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You question jokingly. Your sister giggles at his astonishment and leaves the room. “I’m glad you two found each other. You deserve it.” He tells you. You smile brightly at him. “I’m glad you’re alive. You had me worried you know?” Your words are nervous, yet almost giddy. “You were worried?” He teases. “I thought you said no attachments.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah whatever.” You scoot over and lay your back against him and he wraps his arm around you, leaning his head against yours.

He was content. He was happy. But so were you. You didn’t have to isolate yourself anymore. Maybe you lost your dad, but that’s just apart of life. You got your sister back.

Maybe attachment isn’t the worst thing in the world.

a/n: i hope u guys enjoyed the series i love it to DEATH!!!! if you want to request more fics or drabbles and stuff pertaining to this series i will for sure write it bc im so sad its over but YEAH!!! ermmm…that’s all i have to say :)) thank u for readingggg OKAY I LOVE YOU BYE!!!!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine @prettylittlevampire12 @shadowybasementmiracle @junkyard-juno27 @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @sophiaatwdluver @baileebear @tabathastan @sstar-ggirl

[hidtired]

A Single Punch [Part 4]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Description: The line up ended with people thinking you died. However, your recovering at Hilltop with severe injury's. How will the rest of your family react to seeing you again, even Negan?

2.1k words

Warnings (much angst, injury, near death, depression, recovery, typical walking dead shenanigans) [Happy ending, fluff <3]

(Daryl Dixon x reader) Masterlist

Rick POV

They decided that the Saviors had to go. Headed to Hilltop to gather support. Rosita also said there was something there for them that had to be seen to be believed. He was hoping for good news for once. With finding out they had Sasha and even the whole Carl stunt, and the two Alexandria lives lost, with them also taking Eugene, he was due for a break.

So to his surprise he saw Daryl turn the corner. He was surprised but the only thought he could think of was you.

“Thank you, for being my family.”

Guilt ate him. He still moved to embrace his brother. He knew what it felt like to lose something like that. He also felt responsible for bringing you. He knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t help thinking if he didn’t… Daryl seemed broken to see him. Knowing him for so long as he had, never thought he would see the gruff guy simply crumpled at the sight of him. It made him tear up a little at the thought.

He looked more beaten than the last he saw him at Alexandria. He was holding up better than he thought he would. Everyone else hugged him but Rick had to say something, “Brother I’m so sorry… Y/N… if I didn’t- she wouldn’t have been there if I didn’t ask her to come.” Daryl only smiled at your name mentioned, ok that unnerving him. Maybe he wasn’t doing as well as he thought. When Rosita seemed shocked to see him he was confused, ‘Wasn’t this what she was talking about?’

Daryl pulled out Ricks gun handing it to him, Daryl finally talking in a breath after all the attention. “Wasn’ your fault. You should know-“ Carls loud gasp made Rick turn to his son. He was looking over Daryl’s shoulder, tears starting to brim in his eye. It was hard to get tears out that boy so, Rick followed his eye line.

“No, I’m not a walker-“

You. Jesus leading you by his arm. The sounds of people stuttered gasps at the sight of you, making their hearts drop. Carl had run into a hug. Daryl chuckled, “Ya, that’s what I was gonna mention.” Rick put a hand to his mouth, an attempt to hold himself together. He put a hand to Daryl to walk past him to you. He had mentally beaten himself up about you. Feeling like the blood was on his hands. You were like a little sister. He joined Carl to hug you. Soon following Michonne and Tara.

“It’s good to see you all.” You looked well… beaten to hell. But it was a drastically better image than the last they were left with of you. When everyone pulling away from you, you seemed to struggle to find your center of gravity. It was Daryl that was behind you with a arm around your waist as you half leaned back into him.

It was Michonne who panicked thinking you were going to fall, “Are you ok?” You gave a small smile and shrugged, “You know, just brain damage.” You sighed at the still serious faces pointed at you. Rick could hear it in your speech, the weird places your voice would fluctuate.

“I’ll be ok, the worst of it is over. I’m just… relearning somethings again.” Your eyes now red from tears shed from happiness of your family back, “Long story short, took the hit-t to the hand, didn’t blackout immediately. But later woke up -later in the truck.” Rick closed his eyes soaking the information in. “I’m so sorry if I just let you stay at Alexandria you wouldn’t have had to go through any of it.” The face you gave him was like that you’d give at a child dissolvingly, “You didn’t hit me with that bat.” That silenced everyone for a moment into thought. It was Jesus that pulled his focus back.

"Why are you all here anyways?"

Your POV

They were going to fight the saviors. They need the support from Hilltop and that lead them here, Gregory's office. He was a coward that much you knew. Maggie was at a constant stand off with him your whole time here. It was Daryl's voice pulling you out of thought, "So what your just gonna wait till they decide something isn't enough and start killing some of you?" Daryl shock his head, "As long as its not you though, right?"

“She made it out of it can’t you just take that as a win and count your losses?" Gregory pointing to you next to Daryl. "See I’m happy that your little girlfriend-“

“Wife.”

Everyone’s eyes widened and just looked to each other before just accepting that little info letting you continue. “If you would like to remain not knowing what being beat-t half to death feels like, I’d suggest-st listenin to them.” Gregory’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, “Are you threatening me after my hospitality to you?” You tilted your head to the side 'Jesus really was the one to help', “Not at all. That-t day will come at the hands of your buddies you’re so found of.” It was clear this prick of a man lacked a back bone. He wouldn’t change his mind. You were going to get worked up if you argued any longer so you waved your hand in front of you before slowly walking out the front door. You were done with it. The others could deal with it.

It was later that Jesus said he knew of another place that they could ask. You were going to go with at the suggestion of a doctor. That's what lead you in the back of a car, Rick driving and Michonne in the passenger seat. Carl was staring at you from his place next to you, "Go ahead and ask." You turned to him with a knowing look. Carl perked up and tried to look away like he wasn't caught, "Nothing, just still can't believe your here." You hummed, "How's little Jude." That got him talking, completely forgetting his originally thought as he gushed about his baby sister. It was Rick to ask the next question, "So its Mrs. Dixon now is it?" Your attention turning to the man in question. He had taken his motorcycle, you didn't want him to worry you'd fail off. You looked at Rick in the review mirror. You were slightly bashful, "Bout damn time I know." That caused laughs to ring in the car. Maybe everything was going to be ok.

Meeting this 'king' was a experience. A man with a tiger was a very big first impression. The big thing to put everyone at ease was that Morgan had been here. Rick however was a little unhappy of him trying to talk about is peace stuff. "They killed Glenn and Abraham, right in front of us... Among a few at home like Olivia and Spencer. Hell I only found out Y/N didn't die with them." You were uncomfortable with eyes looking to you. 'Didn't die with them...' Survival guilt had been eating at you. But, it seemed to snap Morgan into a apology.

You felt a hand slipping behind your back, Daryl. He try comforting you and you appreciated it. The Kings decision was made in the morning, and like Hilltop didn't go to plan. It was offered that you and Daryl could stay. With your injurie and Daryl on the run Rick agreed. Much to a displeased Daryl at him not having a choice he wasn't to apposed to you being there.

The place was rather nice. Guy name Jerry offered some cobbler and it was one of the best things you had in a while. You had meet with the Doctor while Daryl try getting Ezekiel on board, by Ricks request. Daryl found you at the table with your cobbler. He sat next to you looping a arm around your back. He had a displeased look on his face. "I found Carol." You look up from your plate to him, "She ok?" He made a face that said not really, "She doesn't know about everything that happened yet. I just couldn't say anything." He looked down ashamed. She did seem a little out of it the last you saw here. You nodded at his statement, "She around?" Daryl shock is head, "On the outskirts of the place."

You both remained silent until you broke it, "I see you want to help. You can go you know?" Daryl only scoffed at the suggestion, "Nah." You smiled, "I can try and convince-ce the King. While you fight the fight." He gave you a look that told you he was struggling to leave your side.

"I'll be here."

You raised you eyebrows to him, "Your eating yourself alive by not doing anything. I see that." He inhaled and started to nod, "Assholes need to pay for what they did." You patted the hand that was around you, "Always so passionate, one of the many reasons I love you." He grunted, "uh-huh knock it off women." You loved making him fidget at your words of praise. "That anyway to be talking to you wife?" He finally looked down at you with a small smirk, "Sure as hell made it known earlier." You shrug with you now the one being bashful.

That evening you waved Daryl off to get into the fight. With promises to kick his ass if he got hurt. You spent your days mostly with a doctor trying to heal. You were getting there. You didn't have anything much going on other then that. One of the few things to happen was seeing Carol. She seemed surprised to see you and embraced you, "Morgan told me what happened." She looked ashamed, "He said you almost died to." You nod, "Closer then I ever been." Your voice seemed close to normal again, you still put most of your focus in walking. Carol looked you up and down, taken notice to your hair growing back in the place that was shaven. Your face still some colors of yellows and greens.

The war had its ups and down but you had won it in the long run. By the next time Daryl saw you were moving independently. He retold his story's to you. The knowledge of Carl passing saving someone and his role in the win. His talk with Maggie about 'Glenn and how he would have likely had like his death mean something.' Mentioning Aaron took in a baby Rick found in a saviors outpost. Also mentions of Morales someone from the old quarry days and how he killed him. He expressed his dislike for the decision Rick made to keep Negan alive. You didn't like it much either but life went on. Daryl took you to Alexandria not wanting you to deal with the Sanctuary. You wanted to talk to Negan but said nothing to Daryl about it.

You have a foggy remembrance of the guy. Early one morning you went to confront him. He was laid down facing the wall. So you stood quietly leaning against the wall opposite to the bars. He turned at the feeling of a presence. "If your here to kill me I think there is a line." Ah right, smug asshole. You step closer to the bars, you could feel Negan's demeaner drop. "What? Looks like you saw a ghost..." He only look you up and down considering maybe he had lost it, "Well if it isn't the little Plague herself." That's right, he had called you that before trying to kill you. "I killed you if I'm not mistaken, Daryl sure as hell tried killing me for it." You nodded, "Well you seemed to have missed." You turn to leave getting what you wanted. The information you forgot and scaring him, you turned before leaving, "Or did you?" He sat there thinking maybe he ha lost it and imagined you.

That made you smug about it the rest of the day. If you couldn't kill him, you'd make him feel like he had one foot in the grave just like you thought you were.

The end.

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

My Masterlist for more Daryl ( Masterlist )

Lost a little motivation to write most parts in here, its stuff y'all already knew so.

[celandeline]

You’ve Got A Pretty Kind Of Dirty Face

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 3 [previous part | next part]

Someone’s tapping at your window. 

Even after two years of being behind the walls of Alexandria, you can’t break the habit of waking up at every small disturbance, so it only takes a few taps before you’re slipping out of bed, pulling the knife you keep tucked under your mattress out and skirting around the bed to your window. 

You peer around the edge, knife in hand, only to see Carl crouched on the roof of your porch, gently tapping at your window. He smiles when he sees you, and gestures for you to open the window. You set your knife down, and start on the locks. You shouldn’t - it’s after dark, he most definitely snuck out, you already let him get too far by kissing you in the car today - but you do. It’s Carl, you can’t not. 

You push the window open, and hold it so that he can climb through before sliding it back into place. He still has that stupid smirk on his face when you turn to look at him. “Should I even ask why you’re here?”

“Probably better if you don’t.” He says, playful. “Plausible deniability and all.”

“That makes it sound like you’re planning something nefarious.” You say. 

“What if I am?” He steps closer, narrowing the distance between you. 

Before he can completely close the gap, you place a hand on his chest, keeping him a short distance away. “I don’t know what you were thinking in the car today but if your dad had seen, I swear-”

“He didn’t.” Carl cuts you off, voice low. You can feel his heartbeat against your hand. “I just wanted to thank you for saving my ass.” One of his hands comes up to wrap around your wrist, moving your palm from his chest so that he can press closer, his other hand finding your hip, holding softly. “Still feel like I should thank you again.” He says, just above a whisper. 

He’s so close, you can feel his breath against the skin of your cheek when he talks. “Carl.” You say. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t; if Rick ever found out-

You don’t get to say more than his name because then his lips are on yours again, hungry just like they were before. He kisses you fiercely, and you can’t help but kiss him back. It feels good, it scratches that itch that only gets worse every time you stop yourself from enjoying him for fear of his father. You wind a hand into his hair, and kiss him back with the same intensity, working his mouth open so that you can dip your tongue inside.

He groans, low in the back of his throat as your tongue sweeps over his, and the hand he has on your hip tightens its grip. You can’t help but smile into the kiss, the hand that isn’t tangled in his hair finding one of the belt loops on his jeans and fiddling with it teasingly. 

When he pulls back, he’s breathing heavy. He doesn’t go far, still holding onto you as he rests his forehead on yours, looking down at where your fingers are still looped in his jeans. “Wish you wouldn’t keep doing that.” He says.

“Doing what?” You ask. 

“Saying my name like you want to say stop.” His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“It’s not-” You stop to figure out what you want to say. “I like you, Carl. A lot. I think you’re cute and funny and smart and I admire your strength. And I would like to be with you. But I don’t want to be with you at the cost of your relationship with your dad. I see how close you guys are, and I don’t want you and I getting together to drive a rift in that. And-” You pause. “I don’t want you to take this to mean that I don’t like you.”

He shakes his head. “How could I, when you just went on about how cute and smart and funny I am.”

“Shut up.” You say, the way he repeats it all back to you making it sound embarrassing. “I just… there's more than just that I don’t want to come between you and Rick. It’s also that you’ve never done this before, and I have, and I know that the first relationship you have is the one that sets the standards for the rest. It’s a lot of pressure not to fuck up. I don’t want to accidentally fuck up your conception of love.” You sigh, and then, to lighten the mood, “Also I think Rick would actually kill me if I took your virginity.”

Carl laughs, and lifts his forehead off yours to look you in the eye. “He probably would.” He agrees, smiling. And then, “But, um…” He pauses, brow furrowed slightly. “Hm.”

“What?” You ask. 

He smiles sheepishly. “I’m just trying to figure out how to say that I don’t care about what my dad thinks or that you or that you might fuck up or whatever without saying that I don’t… care.”

You laugh a little under your breath. “I guess I should’ve expected that.” He’s made it pretty obvious, with his insistent flirting and the way he so recklessly kissed you in the car today, that he’s too wrapped up in this thing to think about the impact it’ll have on his dad, or himself, or you. 

His hand skips under your shirt, fingers brushing along the skin of your back. “I get what you’re saying. And I think it’s really… admirable that you’re so concerned about me and my dad, but,” He pauses. “I could die tomorrow. You could die tomorrow. I don’t want to let this go without trying to make it work, ‘cause we might never get the chance again.”

There’s a sadness in his eyes that sends a pang through your heart. You know what he means - you’ve seen it for yourself. It’s very easy to die these days, and no one ever ties up all their loose ends before they go. The world is littered with ‘almosts’ and ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’. It’s only natural to not want this, us, to end up in that ever growing pile.

“You’re very persuasive.” You say. 

Carl smiles, and his fingers play with the hem of your sweatpants. “So..?”

“So what?”

“So you’re not gonna tell me to go back home?”

“I guess not.” You say. “I have a feeling you didn’t come over here just to talk.”

“Not really.” He says. “Not that I don’t like talking to you but I also really like kissing you…”

You laugh as he tugs you closer again, and your lips connect. He doesn’t wait to slip his tongue between your lips, and his grip around your hips tightens. He kisses like he’s hungry for it, and you suppose he is, after you’ve been keeping him waiting. You wind your hands into his hair again, playing with the strands and grinning when you feel a shiver run up his spine from the touch. 

He whines against your lips, and suddenly you don’t know why you’ve been denying yourself this for months. 

You pull away only to step backwards towards your bed, your hands dropping to Carl’s belt loops again to tug him with you. He comes easily, grinning as you pull him into bed. You make yourself comfortable amongst your pillows, and he settles next to you, the both of you laying on your sides so close that your noses bump together. 

For a moment, you just look at each other, only able to make out each other's features in the semi-darkness because you are so close together. This time you’re the one to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his and sliding a hand under his shirt, trailing your fingers along the plane of his stomach. He shivers again, and you smile against his lips. He’s so responsive, even to the littlest of touches. 

You pull away to trail kisses down his jaw until you reach the junction of his neck just below his ear. Your fear of Rick stops you from leaving a hickey there, but you still lick at the spot, just to make him shiver again. His fingers wind into the fabric of your shirt, holding onto you like he’ll die if he lets go. You move to nip at the lobe of his ear and he pulls you on top of him, crushing you to his chest. 

You can feel him hard underneath you when you sit back, straddling him. His hands fall back to your hips, and you place a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart under your palm. His pupils blown wide as he looks up at you, dark hair fanning across your pillow, you know what he’s going to ask before he even parts his lips. 

“Have sex with me.” 

You purse your lips. “Rick’s gonna murder me.”

Carl shakes his head, smiling. “No he won’t.”

“He so totally will.” You laugh. “He already accused me of corrupting you for trying to smuggle you alcohol, he’ll put my head on a pike for this.”

“I won’t let him.” He says, squeezing the sides of your hips. 

“And how exactly would you stop him?” You tease, leaning down to brush your lips over his again. 

He catches you in a proper kiss before he speaks. “I’ll ask real nicely.”

You sigh, and kiss him again. Rick’s going to kill you, but right now, when it’s just you and Carl in the comfort of your bed giving in to the feeling of his lips on yours and the way his bangs sweep across your face like butterfly kisses, you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re not going to pretend that you’re not incredibly turned on with this beautiful boy underneath you. And more importantly, you like him and he wants this.

“Okay.” You say, pulling your shirt over your head in a fluid motion, tossing the fabric to the floor. His words from earlier, that you might die tomorrow, echo in your head. You want this as much as he does, so why not? Why wait, when either of you could very easily wind up with walker teeth around your neck in a few hours?

Carl’s grins, eyes trailing down your front. “Really?”

“Did you want me to say no?” You ask, rising up on your knees so that you can ruck his shirt up his chest, purposefully trailing your fingers up the planes of his stomach to make goosebumps rise. 

He sits up, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. “I just expected you to make me work for it more.”

As soon as his shirt’s all the way off, you attach yourself to his collarbones, nipping at the thin skin. Carl lets out a breathy gasp as you take the opportunity to begin trailing hickeys across his chest, confident that they’ll be hidden under his shirt. What you can’t leave on his neck, you leave across his collar, until he’s almost writhing under you, his hands fisted into your sweatpants. 

The moment you lift your head up from his skin, he’s pushing your shoulder, gently knocking you over so that he’s hovering over you now, trailing his lips up the side of your neck until he’s just underneath your ear. “Can I?” He whispers, breath tickling your skin. 

“Go crazy.” You say. What do you care if you’re covered in hickeys? He’s the one with the overbearing dad, not you.

Still, maybe you should have phrased it differently, because Carl does, in fact, go crazy. You’ll be surprised if your entire neck isn’t purple tomorrow. You can’t pretend you don’t enjoy his enthusiasm though, it’s been a while since you felt so… desired. You wind your arms around his back and trail your fingers up his spine. The way he arches into the touch makes you grin. 

He’s so warm, pressed against you as he leaves a necklace of bruises across your neck, his moans muffled by your skin between his teeth as he grinds against your thigh. You can feel his hard-on through his jeans, and you slip a hand down his stomach to dip into his pants, palming his dick. 

The whin he emits at your touch is delicious. You bite your lip to stifle your grin. 

“You’re making fun of me.” Carl accuses. 

“‘M not.” You say, even though you are a little. It’s cute, how sensitive he is, how obvious it is that he’s never done this before. “You’re just cute, ‘s all.” You bring your hand out of his jeans for a moment to undo the button. 

Carl rolls off you to shuck his jeans off, and you slide out of your sweatpants as well. You don’t let him climb back on top, pushing him down into your pillows so that you can straddle him again. Despite the hand on his chest, he still tries to sit up, brow slightly furrowed. 

“Why-?”

“‘Cause you haven’t done this before.” You cut him off with a kiss. “Just let me. You can be on top another time.”

The promise of another time makes him grin, and he lets you lay him down. His hands find your hips and you watch as his expression shifts, the sensation of your bare skin on his enough to make him sigh. Looking down at him, suddenly, your stomach swirls with nerves. Not for your own sake - no, you’ve done this before, and you’re under no illusion that he’ll last long - but for his. You want to make it good for him. 

“You have to tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” You say. “Or slow down, or anything - just, talk to me. I want it to be good-”

“I know.” He interrupts you. “Promise I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to stop.”

“Okay.” You say. Still a little nervous, you shove it down and rise up on your knees again, gently guiding his dick between your legs. His gaze drops to your hand and he sucks in a breath as you begin to sink down on him, his grip on your hips tightening enough to leave a bruise behind. 

He only exhales when you’re fully seated and his grip relaxes. “Fuck.”

You’ve just opened your mouth to ask him if he’s alright when he bucks beneath you, unsettling your balance. You gasp, falling forward, and he wraps his arms around you before he rolls over, still seated inside you. Your back hits the mattress before you can really realize what he’s done, and he tucks his head into your shoulder, groaning as he starts to fuck you. 

“What the fuck?” You say, voice breathy. 

He shakes his head, hair tickling your skin. “Just let me fuck you please. I don’t want you to go slow, you’ve been making me wait for months-” He cuts himself off with a moan, his hips knocking against yours. His thrusts are sloppy, but eager, and he trails his lips underneath your ear, letting all the little whines and moans slip right from his lips to your ear. 

You let him have his way with you, just winding your arms around his neck and enjoying the ride. He’s not half bad even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s his openness, you think that’s doing it for you. The way he holds onto you like you’re precious, the way he’s not ashamed about all the little noises slipping out of his mouth, the absence of the posturing and dominance that you’ve had to put up with from other guys. 

It’s not long before his hips are stuttering, and he lets out a long groan before he slumps against you, utterly spent. You move a hand from his shoulders to wind into his hair, playing with the strands. He sighs against your chest, and you smile, hugging him to you. 

“Thanks.” He says, rolling off you to lay against your side. “And sorry.”

“Sorry?” You laugh. 

“For lasting all of three seconds.” He mumbles, making himself comfortable in the valley of your chest. He drapes an arm over your stomach, gently tracing your hip bone. 

“‘S okay.” You say, pressing your lips into his hair. “It was your first time.”

You can feel him falling asleep against you, and hear it in his voice. “Gotta practice I guess.” He smirks against your skin. 

You laugh again, and stroke his hair until you both fall asleep.

[deansapplepie]

The Spitting Image | Part 3

Summary: Years passed since last time you saw your ex-boyfriend and father of your son. Fate decided the perfect moment for you to reconnect was after the end of the world.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: smoking, mentions of underage drinking/smoking, Daryl need a bath, just that. This chapter is very chill. Minors do not interact.

Word Count: 3k

Part 2 Part 4

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Early in the morning you were knocking on the door of the new residents of Alexandria. One hand occupied with a pie you wanted to give them, a bag on your shoulder carrying some things and just one hand to knock at the door. Soon, the ex deputy answered the door and even if some days ago he was threatening you, you had a warm smile to give him. “Good morning Rick!”

“Morning, er… hm… I’m gonna tell Daryl you are here.” He greeted you.

“Oh no, I’m not here to see him. Well… I could see him, but that’s not the reason I came here exactly.” You said, suddenly becoming aware that everyone there already knew at least a little about your history. You cleared your throat. “I brought pie.”

“Thanks, er… pie? Really?” The ex sheriff couldn’t believe you were really able of making a pie. When did you had time?

“Yes, I found some raspberries in the woods. I was saving it on the fridge for something special.” You said handing him the pie so he could take it.

“And you made pie for us? No I couldn’t accept it…” Rick tried to politely refuse, but was interrupted by Carol.

“Yes, we can. Didn’t you know it’s not polite to refuse a gift?” She told Rick and took the pie from your hand with a gentle smile. “Thank you for the warm welcome.”

“It’s no problem. Really. If any of you need anything…” you replied, Carol left to take the pie to the kitchen, then you turned to Rick again. “Also, I brought this…” you took a pink stuffed unicorn from the bag, “I found it on some run and when I looked at it today it reminded me of your little girl, so I brought it for her.”

“You shouldn’t have…” he said politely but took the plushie before Carol came again and told him off about education.

“Of course I should. Every little girl needs a unicorn.” You said grinning playfully. “Also, DJ sent this to your son. They’re his favorite and he thought that maybe Carl could enjoy it.” You handed some comics to the sheriff. “Maybe they could be friends. DJ doesn’t like the other kids here so much, he says they’re all a-s-s holes. Except Enid, she’s a nice girl.”

“Thanks. Carl used to love comics, I’m pretty sure he’ll appreciate.” He thanked. “The kid is a lone wolf, I see, just like Daryl…”

“Maybe… he’s a little too mature for his age, but still just a boy. I think he’s just waiting to find the right people he’d like to be around. Just like…” you were saying but suddenly stopped watching Daryl appearing in front of you. “Morning.” You gave him that wide smile that only two people in your life could get. “I brought some pie. Carol took it, you should eat.”

“Mornin’ “ he drawled.

“Can I have a word with you two?” You asked, you didn’t want to stay long and disturb the group’s peace, but you needed to advise them about something you had forgotten the day before with all the happenings.

“Yes, of course.” Rick answered.

“Inside? I think I can speak low enough so no one listens but…”

“Yeah, come inside.” Daryl said and Rick opened space so you could enter.

After the door was closed, the two men looked at you expectantly while you worked in your mind how you would say that without they freaking out.

“I know some of you already got jobs. So there’s something I want to advise you.” You took a breath before saying it. “Deanna and Reg are amazing people and you can trust them, even though I think they are too utopian and have an idea of the real world that’s not how it works anymore…”

“But…” Daryl said, there was always a but.

“But their kids are jerks. They’re part of the group that do runs and watch the perimeter, but they don’t know shit about it. They pretend they do, but they don’t. Some people already died working with them and despite they had told the whole story, something seems fishy for me. So… your people that are going to work with them, tell them to be careful. I know they’re probably better than them in everything but it’s good if they keep alert.” The two men observed you and you were afraid you had ruined things and they would want to leave, or that you spoke too much.

“Thanks for the advice. I appreciate it.” Rick told you and Daryl just nodded.

“It’s nothing. Really. If you need anything you can come to me.” You reassured again.

“Can we talk?” Daryl asked, he couldn’t stop thinking about DJ and how he was in the end of your conversation. So despite feeling he had no right to, he wanted to know about him.

“Yes, of course.” You replied.

You followed him to the porch and waited him start talking. You had no idea what he was going to say, but you were eager to listen.

“How’s the kid?” He asked directly. He wasn’t one to go around and around about something. He wanted to know how his son was.

“He’s good. He felt a little upset, but we talked. He didn’t need to know all of that. He thinks he’s an adult just because he is mature and the things he saw and had to do while we were on the road. But he’s just a kid.” You took a breath. “He wanted to make a good impression on you. He didn’t say it, but I know him. He tried to hide what he was feeling at the moment, but you and I know he couldn’t.”

“The kid punched me yesterday, and I have to say he’s strong. Why would he want to impress me?” He leaned on the column.

“You know why.” You answered. “Well, I better get going and look for something to do. You should try the pie and take a bath, we have hot water what are you waiting for?”

He grunted. No, he didn’t know why. He didn’t even know what he was doing. And… were he smelly? Of course he was, it had been so long on the road, with no shower… he was afraid of getting used to this place, but he also needed to. He had a son now, and he lived there.

DJ left the house and walked on Alexandria streets, in fact he said he was going to see if Carl liked the comics and wanted to hang out, but he was actually thinking about the stranger that was his father. He found him in front of the houses of the new comers, he had a cigar hanging from his mouth and worked on his crossbow and arrows.

“Hey old man.” DJ said, he felt strange. What should he say? Hey Daryl? Wassup Daryl? Wassup old man? None of those sounded correct.

Daryl looked from his lap and saw his son. “Hi Kid.” He answered cigarette still between his lips.

“I’m not a kid.”

“I ain’t old.”

DJ snorted at the remark. “Is it difficult to use one of those?” He pointed at the crossbow.

“ ‘s not easy, but with training one is capable of using it.” He put the crossbow to the side and took his cigarette from his lips blowing some smoke. “Do ya wanna learn?”

“Would you teach me?” The boy asked. He was excited with the possibility, but tried to make it seems like it was nothing.

“Yeah, but for that we need to go outside of the walls. Then, ya need to agree to obey me out there.” No way he was going to take the kid from safety if he was going to be rebellious and/or do stupid shit. And by his experience it could happen, Carl was a good kid, but he was all the time risking himself and making stupid things.

DJ scoffed at what he said. “Do you think I can’t handle myself out there?”

“Never said that.” Daryl made a pause. “But once we’re out there, ya’re my responsibility. I’m not bringing your dead ass back to your mom.”

DJ didn’t want to lose the battle against the mam, but he also didn’t know what else to say. So he sat by his side and tried to make conversation. “Can I have one?”

“One wha’?”

“A cigar.” DJ answered. ‘The audacity of the little shit,’ Daryl thought.

“Do ya wanna die?” Daryl asked. The young man scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“If you’re afraid to die, why are you smoking it?” He asked the man.

“Who said I was talking about the cigar? I’ll probably die for another reason.” He made a pause to swallow the smoke and then let it out. “Have you ever seen your mom mad? She’s all sweet, but when she’s pissed… She’s scaring.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He answered, his mom, you, was the best. But oh boy, could you be scaring when needed.

“I wouldn’t give ya one, regardless of that.” Said Daryl, the person that started drinking and smoking when he was younger than his son, but he didn’t want that for him, at least not while he could avoid it.

“Didn’t you take a shower yet?” DJ asked. It was obvious that he didn’t even passed close to the shower.

“Did yer mom told ya to come here and tell me to take one?” Daryl asked annoyed, he was the third person that day telling him to take a shower.

“Nah, but you clearly need one.” He said. “We have hot water. First thing I did after I arrived here was to take a long hot shower. You should too.”

Daryl grunted. It was everyone and the shower against him.

“Is Carl around? I came to see if he liked the comics?”

“No, I saw him with some other kids.” Daryl said finishing his cigar.

“Hope he’s not an asshole like the others.” DJ said, the other kids annoyed him so much. Ok, they were a little bit younger than him, but they were also stupid and weak.

“He’s not. I’ve been around him for a long time. I’d know if he was one.” He said and then pointed to the end of the street. “He went in that direction if ya wanna know him.”

Later that day you were at Aaron and Eric’s kitchen, you were cooking pasta. Deanna was throwing a party to welcome the newcomers, everybody was invited, but you were not going. It wasn’t your thing.

“Tell me Y/N/N, how are you feeling about having your ex here?” Eric threw the question at you sitting on the chair by the counter.

“I’m ok, I guess. I was super anxious at first, but now I’m just glad he took everything well and is interested on DJ.” You said adding some seasoning on the sauce.

“Just that?” Eric asked raising a brow.

“Yes, just that. Come on Eric, there were 17 years that I didn’t see him.” You turned to your friend.

The two of you were alone in the kitchen, Aaron had gone to take a bath and DJ was in the living room probably reading something. “But you still have eyes and a heart.”

“He’s still handsome, and I’m sure his still the same person. The age made him hotter and… did you take a look at those arms?” You said leaning on the counter.

“Just so you know, I’m listening everything from here! Please don’t say anything disgusting!” You listened DJ’s voice coming from the living room a d couldn’t help but giggle at it.

“Anyway, things are different now. And my priority is his and DJ’s relationship.” It was the truth. You couldn’t help and feel warm and bothered when you thought about him, but you had changed, he had changed.

Pretty much, you never let anyone in after him. Your priority had always been your son and you wouldn’t change it in any other way, but now you knew nothing about relationships and also would he want anything with you now? Could he feel anything after everything that happened? Could you?

Half an hour later you listened the front door opening and Aaron talking to someone, who could it be? You were setting the table and then you heard his delicious gruff voice. So apparently you would be having dinner together.

“Hi old man.” DJ said entering the dinning room.

“Hello Kid.” Daryl answered.

“I’m not a kid”

“I ain’t old”

“I thought you’d go to Deanna’s get together.” You said, a smirk on your face, you could almost listen to his answer in your head.

“Ya know me better than this. Not exactly my thing.” He answered and sat where Aaron showed him.

“Neither mine.” You said while setting the pasta at the table. Then you noticed he has taken a bath, he looked clean and smelled clean. “You took a shower…”

“After the third person telling me to take one, I decided to take it before I shoot someone.”

“I was the third person.” DJ observed.

“Shall we eat? Y/N did it.” Eric said taking his place at the table.

“I didn’t, I just helped. It’s totally Eric’s recipe.”

“What about some wine?” Aaron came back with a bottle of the liquid.

You all sat around the table, pasta on your plates and wine in your glasses. DJ tried to convince you that he could take a little, but you��d not allow him, as long as you could. The boy could only try and hope one day the miracle would happen and you’d allow him to get a taste.

“Daryl told he’s going to teach me how to use the crossbow.” The boy drank from his juice.

“Did I?” Daryl answered mouth half full. “You never told me if ya would obey me out of the walls.”

The teenager rolled his eyes. “I know how to hold myself well.”

“If you want to learn, you need to do it on his therms.” You said sipping on your wine.

You all finished eating, chatting and savoring the food. You always had a good time with Aaron and Eric, when you first arrived at Alexandria they were very friendly and helped you to settle, soon you became friends and it had been that way since that time.

After dinner you cleaned the table, did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. While that Aaron, Daryl and your boy disappeared to the garage. When you finished, you decided it was time to head home, you went to the garage and found them around a bike.

“DJ, Dear… it’s time to go home.” You called him from the garage door.

“Mom, can I learn how to ride a bike?” The boy asked, eyes sparkling.

“You’re eager to learn a lot of things. Don’t you think?” You crossed your arms and leaned on the door.

“Daryl said he could teach me.”

“If yer mom gave you permission.” The archer completed:

“This bike doesn’t seem ready for me, are you going to repair it?” You asked the man.

“Yeah, it need some repairs.”

“I gave him the bike, and there’s also some parts that I collected. Think he’ll make a great job with this one.” Aaron observed.

“Can DJ help with the bike?” You asked, him offering to teach him things were something, but you knew he had always been reserved, appreciating some time alone. You wanted the two of them to bond, but you didn’t know if doing absolutely everything together was the best choice.

“ ‘f course. Wouldn’t offer to teach him things if it wasn’t.”

“Ok. First learn some mechanics, help with the bike and also learn about cars. Then I may allow you to ride a bike.” You gave the conditions.

“Come on! I already drive cars and I know some mechanics about it.” The teen protested.

“Believe me, you can still learn a lot more. Take it or leave it.” That was your final offer and he knew better than to refuse it.

“Fine…” he finally agreed.

“Ok, let’s go home.” You said one more time.

The boy left the room with Aaron to get a borrowed book, leaving you and Daryl alone. You approached him, your hand on the bike seat.

“If he’s being too much, you can say no. You know?” You said, looking at his face.

He looked back at you, with something in his eyes that you couldn’t read. “He’s not. I’m trying to figure him out, know him. I…”

He had no idea what he was doing, he thought a good start was getting to know the boy. But would him be able to be a father to him? One thing was dealing with other people kids, like Judith or Carl, but for him it was as if he had given birth to a 17 year old baby and didn’t know what to do with it.

“You’re doing good, I was just worried about you…”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He confessed. “I dun wanna disappoint any of you.”

“I didn’t know too. When all happened.” You said. “But with time, I figured out. I cried, I get despaired, I did mistakes… but I loved, I laughed, I learned… it’s not easy but you’ll experience all of that. If you ever need to vent, or an advice… you can come and find me.”

“Thanks.” He was thanking you for way more than just supporting him.

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[letterstotheflre]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐕𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈’𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔) || 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍

summary: it's his fault. daryl knows that. he should've realised sooner that he knew exactly what those mushroom's would do to you once you ate them.

cw: 18+ only. dark fic [ft. sex pollen, dubcon, mentions of previous noncon drugging (on daryl), outdoor sex, grinding, fingering, squirting]

a/n: soo here is my first big daryl fic! honestly, this might be my favourite fic i’ve ever written :3 it was very fun to write and somehow i really liked writing daryl dialogue/inner monologue (his accent is just so fun lol). once again, this was supposed to be a very feral smut fest and ended up having a lot of emotional moments and inner daryl turmoil </3 i still hope you like it :)) || also very unrelated side note, but i think “gold rush” by taylor fits the daryl in this fic v much (it’d be from his pov, not yours)

“Where d’ya think we should go next?” You ask Daryl around a mouthful of the lone rabbit he hunted earlier this afternoon.

Finding food is getting harder and harder, not to mention you’re running out of your water supply. It’s obvious you need to move your camp to a better area, preferably somewhere near a lake or river. The question is, where is that exactly?

Daryl shrugs, turning the rabbit leg between his dirty fingers around. He takes a rough bite. 

He doesn’t know, and to be honest, he doesn’t really care. Now that the prison fell and with the group scattered to the winds, he doesn’t have much hope for anything. He had gotten a little too comfortable there, his first mistake, and now look where it landed him. Had he learnt nothing from his first camp with Merle, then the camp in Atlanta, then the CDC, and finally the farm? He had enough experience under his belt to know that things always took a turn for the worse, especially when everything seemed safe and peaceful. Yet he still let his guard down. 

The thing is, the prison… the prison was different. It was well protected, with several feet of fence that kept the walkers far from the main building. They didn’t have to worry about any walkers creeping into their cells and taking a bite out of them in the middle of the night since they were able to clear their side of the prison in a matter of days. They had guns and ammo, food and water. Hershel and Carol even taught them how to take care of crops. Hell, they even got their hands on some cattle! They didn’t need to scavenge the woods for some meagre squirrels any more. 

Things were looking up. He had even started to think that maybe, just maybe, they could spend the rest of their lives there. But then the Governor showed up and everything went to shit. 

So now here he is. No Rick, no Carol. Alone once again. Well, not exactly alone– he had you for company. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like you– he likes you more than just a normal amount if he’s being honest with himself. It’s just that… you’re a dead girl walking. He doesn’t know how you’ve made it this far, and by all accounts you shouldn’t have. Before all this, before the virus and the walking dead, you were a preschool teacher. You had lived in the city your entire life, in a nice house located in a nice neighbourhood with nice parents. If he had to bet, he’d say you were even prom queen back in the day. 

There had been no need for you to learn how to hunt, scavenge, track, shoot a gun or even handle a knife. Daryl had been the one to teach you how to shoot a gun in the air, volunteering immediately when Rick brought the subject up and completely ignoring the amused, knowing smile on his friend’s face. 

If he focuses hard enough, he can still hear the sound of your happy laughter the first time you hit the center of the target. Can still feel your chest pressed to his in your celebratory hug. 

“Think I saw some train tracks a couple miles east yesterday. If the others saw ‘em too, they’re probably following them thinkin’ we’re doing the same,” you ramble on, not letting his lack of answer deter you. “Maybe we could find Rick or Maggie.” You lean forward so you can reach the mushrooms you picked up today, plop one and then another inside your awaiting mouth. 

Daryl watches as you chew, eyes judging. He had been adamant that you shouldn’t eat them, shouldn’t even touch them. 

“Stupid girl,” he growled, swatting your hand away from the cluster growing on the bark of a tree. “Didn’t ya mom tell ya not to touch things you never seen before?”

“Ain’t stupid,” you bristled at his tone. “I know these, they used to grow ‘rond some plants in the garden back home. Pretty sure mom put them in our soup ev’ry now and then.”

You don’t let his lack of answer deter you. “Think I saw some train tracks a 

Daryl kneeled beside you, broad right shoulder touching your left one, and examined them closely. He was sure he had never seen them before, not in the woods from his hometown nor in any of his hunting trips since the outbreak started. “Nah, these ain’t safe,” he concluded. 

“Yes, they are.”

“No”, he enunciated the word to make it as clear as possible. “They ain’t.” 

“Yes, they are,” you scowl and plush a couple from their roots. “I ain’t stupid nor useless. I know I can eat these.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “If ya want to kill y’self just to prove a point then fine, be my fuckin’ guest,” he snarked. Then he got up and kept walking in silence, not even sparing you another glance. 

He shakes his head firmly. “Nah, no train tracks.”

“What? Why?” You ask, surprised. “It’s our best shot at findin’ the others!”

“Ain’t no one to find, girl. S’better if ya stop kiddin’ yourself.”

“How could you say that?!” You look at him like he’s a monster. Daryl clenches his jaw. “They’re our friends, our family! We can’t just give ‘em up for dead as soon as things go south! Not after everything!”

Daryl throws away the bone in his hand and looks at you with fury. Don’t you get it? Merle, Sophia, Andrea, Lori, T-Dog, Dale, the list goes on and on. You’re the only one he knows for sure he has left and he’ll be damned if he has to add your name to the list too because you want to search for ghosts. You are his responsibility now. His voice is loud when he says, “Yeah, we should! ‘Cause if you saw those tracks y’know what it means? Means other people saw ‘em too. Bad people. And if ya go ‘round there, lighting fires and singin’ those stupid kid songs you sing all day like you’re in a fuckin’ musical or some shit y’know what they’re gonna do? They’re gon’ kill ya, or worse. So drop the fuckin’ topic and finish yer dinner.”

There really is no room for argument. You drop your gaze to the floor and gulp down the lump in your throat, bringing your knees to your chest. Everything is silent for at least an hour, the only sounds coming from the crackling fire and Daryl’s chewing. 

And then you call his name. 

“Daryl?” Your voice is different; breathier, quieter. Almost like you can barely string the letters together. “I don’t feel very well.”

He’s on his feet in a second, the argument forgotten as soon as he heard your mumbled call. In three quick steps he’s standing in front of you. He kneels so you’re the same height and cups the side of your face. “Wha’s wrong?”

You blink sluggishly, revealing your dilated pupils, and lick your lips. “I don’t know,” you slur. Your breathing gets heavier. “I think– Oh God, I’m so hot,” you complain, almost ripping the zipper of your jacket in your haste to take it off. You throw it away like it’s made of molten lava. Before he can stop you, you take off your long sleeved shirt, leaving you in just a tank top, and lean back against the fallen tree trunk with a relieved sigh. 

It doesn’t make any sense, Daryl thinks. It’s almost winter in Georgia, you should be freezing, but there are no goosebumps littering your skin that might signal you are cold in any way. In fact, you’re even trying to roll your cargo pants up to relieve your legs from a nonexistent blistering heat. 

Daryl presses his hand to your forehead and is surprised to find it slick with sweat. “Y’re burning up,” he says, though he guesses you could probably already tell. He takes one of your arms and inspects it closely, looking for any wounds that could potentially be infected. “Where ya bit?”

You shake your head. “No, no. I didn’t see any walkers today.”

Your arms are in pristine condition, save for some sparse moles and freckles and a single healed scratch on your forearm he remembers you got from running around the woods so carelessly. There’s no sign of a bite or infected cut.

“Did ya get close to anyone sick back at the prison?” He knows it’s stupid to ask– everyone had taken their rounds of antibiotics to prevent another possible outbreak, and it’s also been a week since the prison fell. If you had been infected, you would’ve showed symptoms earlier on, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

“No, I was with Beth ‘n Judy.” Suddenly, you gasp in pain and clutch your lower stomach, pressing your thighs together. “Daryl, it hurts,” you whimper.

The pain in your voice breaks his heart. You look so small, curled up in a tight ball like a wounded animal. He brings you into his lap and shushes you, “I know, I know.” He rubs your back in an attempt to soothe you. “Just lemme think for a second, ‘kay? M’gonna fix ya.”

He wrecks his brain for a solution but keeps coming up blank. He doesn’t have any idea as to what the hell caused this– one second you were fine and then the other you were bending over in pain. Did you touch something? Eat something? Was the water contaminated? Did some poisonous plant graze your skin? Was the rabbit he killed infected and he didn’t notice? 

The tip of your nose tickles his neck as it moves from his collarbone up to his jaw, your rib cage expanding beneath his broad hand when you take a deep breath. He grunts at the strange sensation. “What are y’doin’, girl?”

Your hands curl around his shoulders, the leather of his vest crinkling beneath your tight grip. “You smell so good,” you mewl, taking in another whiff of his scent.

What the fuck.

He doesn’t know where the random compliment came from. He knows you have to be lying though– it’s been weeks since his last shower. His last one was five days before the prison fell and it wasn’t even a proper shower, just a scrub down with a rag, a bucket of water and some soap they found in the last supply run. That’s why he says, albeit a little disheartened, “Y’re talking nonsense.”

You shift in his lap, pressing your chests together and Daryl has to force himself not to react to the feeling of your boobs against his chest or to the movement of your wiggling hips over his crotch. “Am not, am not,” you babble, pressing small wet kisses to his neck and trailing your palms down his strong arm. “You– you smell so good. Feel so good. So big. I–” your breath hitches when you grind against him, relief morphing your previously pained features. “I need you, Daryl.”

His hands that were previously laying limp on either side of him are suddenly held by your softer, smaller ones and moved to your thighs. He drops his gaze, watches you control his hands. Up and down, up and down. The light coming from the fire illuminates the remnants of your dinner. You shift directions and now his hands are on your ass, forcing him to squeeze and grope as you keep grinding against him. 

He stares intently at the leftover mushrooms and all of a sudden he’s 23 years old and Merle’s laughing his ass off as Daryl finishes the dinner his older brother had insisted on cooking. He remembers now, the desperation clawing at his chest when the shrooms started making effect. Remembers how Merle dragged him to a club in the city and patted his back in encouragement. “Go wild, baby brother! Lord knows ya need this.”

Misery is heavy on his shoulders. He wants to throw up– he was wrong before. He did see those mushrooms before. He had eaten them and been under their control. And now you were suffering the same fate he had all those years ago. Because of him, because he failed to realise sooner. 

You move his hands up to your waist, your stomach, your breasts. He never wanted it to be like this. He had hoped, stupid as it was to dream about something other than mere survival, that if he ever got the courage to confess his feelings it’d be when everyone was safe again. When you didn’t have to sleep in tents and cars and pray to God he found any semblance of food. When you’d finally have a house, or a room, or at least a bed. 

He’d be soft with you, just like you were with him every day. 

Now, as you grind and moan above him in a lust filled rut, that dream will remain that. Just a dream. 

He tears his hands from your grip, one settling on one side of your hip and the other cradling your cheek. Heat emanates from your skin like you’re a furnace. Daryl leans forward, lips brushing yours as he promises, “M’gonna make it better. That okay?”

You’re not in the right state of mind but he still asks for any semblance of peace of mind. 

“Please,” you whimper, little crystal beads gathering on your waterline.

After months of pining, he finally closes the distance between you and presses your lips together in a firm kiss. Your mouth is soft and plain against his, trusting him enough to follow his every command as he devours you completely. He uses the hand on your hip to help you smooth down your otherwise stuttered grinding, drinking down every sweet little moan and gasp he elicits out of you. 

That’s what you are– sweet. Sweet to touch and taste and feel. Sweet even in the way you cling to him, use him to relieve the affliction between your legs he accidentally caused. 

Daryl holds you by the back of your neck, feels the warmth of your breath as you moan his name.  “More. I need more,” you cry. The tear tracks on your cheeks glimmer in the warm fire light. “M’so empty. Need you to fuck me. Please, please, please,” you beg like a broken record, forcing your fist into Daryl’s chest and twisting his heartstrings without mercy. 

“Don’t cry, doll face,” he rasps, brushing away your fresh wave of tears. You inhale shakily, leaning into his touch and nuzzling his palm like a touch starved kitten. Your hands tremble as you unbutton your jeans, struggling to pull them down from how sweaty you are and how sticky the insides of your thighs became. Daryl silences you every whine with a kiss and helps you pull them down to your shins, not willing to risk taking off both your shoes and pants completely in case you need to make a quick escape.

“I said I’s gonna fix ya and I am. Just need a couple minutes first.” You make another noise of complaint that turns into a relieved sigh when Daryl pulls your panties to the side and teases your folds with the tip of his fingers. “Need to get ya ready first. This all for me?” He asks, gathering all the slick dripping out of you. 

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes closed in bliss as he toys with you. You nudge your noses together. “Always for you, Daryl. Only you.”

You really need to stop playing with his feelings like that. You’re talking out of your ass, he tells himself, letting your desire and need for relief control your words. Still, it’s nice to hear. He can’t deny that. Maybe he can live in this fantasy bubble a little longer, at least until reality crashes down on you both and you have to come to terms with what happened and decide to never see him again. 

He circles your weeping hole, taunting you, then plunges a lone finger inside when you look like you’re ready to pounce on him. It’s easy, oh so easy, for him to slip in. He thought it would be harder, given the fact that he knew you haven’t slept with anyone since the apocalypse started. Not that he kept an eye on you or anything, he just happened to notice how your tent and cell were always silent, much like his. But you’re so wet that your cunt practically swallowed him right in.

You tap his shoulder needily, mouthing the word “more”, and bite your lip to stay quiet when he adds a second finger and then a third. You could cry from how happy you are right now. 

“That enough for ya, ya spoiled girl?” He scoffs, rubbing circles on your swollen clit with his thumb. 

You can only nod as he buries his fingers up to his knuckles, curling them and feeling the rough calluses as he prods inside you in search of your soft spot. When your loudest moan yet lets him know he found it, he abuses it, creating loud squelching noises that have him smiling. 

Euphoria sends a shiver down your spine and makes your entire body shake as you cum, a small stream of clear liquid hitting Daryl’s wrist and dripping down to his jeans. “Shit,” he whispers, amazed. 

He made you squirt.

Daryl’s still staring at his dripping wrist as you paw at him with a heaving chest, fingers curling around his brown plaid shirt. Your nails could nearly break the fabric. “You promised,” you sob. “You promised you’d fix it. That you’d fuck me. Don’t you want me?”

He tears his gaze away from the mess between your legs in shock. How could you ever think he doesn’t want you? When you’ve consumed his every waking thought and haunted his every dream. When the only thing he wanted to do when you looked at him with those glimmering eyes was to follow your every command word for word. When he didn’t want to just fuck you– he wanted to keep you safe and warm, wanted to make sure you’d never know hunger.

He grabs your jaw, fingers tightly pressing on your warm cheeks, and snarls. “Don’t ever think I don’t want ya.” He tugs you to him so he can kiss you, unbuckling his belt with one hand and pulling down the zipper of his jeans. Your own hand joins his and squirms under the rough fabric so you can take his cock out from behind his boxers. His jaw clenches at the feeling of your soft hand around him, so different from his own. Untouched by decades of manual work, protected by dutiful applications of hand creams (he's heard you tell Beth how dry your hands are now and how much you miss your favourite hand cream. He’s been looking for some on every supply run ever since).

He spreads all the wetness stuck to his fingers over his cock, his stomach doing a summersault when he sees you biting your lower lip in want. You guide him to your entrance, gasping in unison when the mushroom tip slips past your soaking wet folds. Slowly, you sink yourself down, Daryl mouthing at your neck as you get used to the thickness of his cock as it threatens to split you in half. 

“Relax,” Daryl grunts, the scruff covering his cheeks scratching at the tender skin of your cleavage. He goes back to playing with your clit, knowing it’ll allow the tension to leave your muscles and he’ll be able to push in the remaining two inches. 

Once he’s buried to the hilt, you take a shuddering breath in and slowly start to bounce. “Wanted this for so long,” you babble. “Wanted you, Daryl. A-And now you want me,” you smile, increasing the speed of your bouncing. You chant, “You want me, you want me, you want me.”

Daryl nods, teeth gritted as he feels you tighten around him, walls pulsing. You collapse on his chest, hips still grinding in search of any form of friction. With a firm and secure grip, he grabs your ass and uses it as leverage so he can pound you down on him. For once, he’s not worried about loud noises or stray walkers or even unknown strangers stumbling into the scene. No, he just worries about you and your sweet cunt keeping his cock warm; about your lips on his neck, your hands gripping his hair and your dulcet “uh uh uh’s” ringing in his ears as you cum for the second time.

He lifts you off of him just in time to shoot ropes of white all over his shirt, biting your neck to muffle his grunts of pleasure. For once in what seems like a lifetime, the walker infested woods are completely still, only both of your laboured breathing breaking the unusual silence. 

Until you speak in a meek voice and it’s like he’s suddenly doused in cold water. “Daryl?”

He drops his forehead to your clavicle and shuts his eyes tightly, heaving a sigh. This is it– the moment where he loses you, where you run away. Forever disgusted with him. Afraid of him for breaking your trust. 

After another beat of silence, you call his name again. “What happened?”

He straightens his back and rubs his face. He clears his throat. “It was the mushrooms,” he refuses to look at you as he explains the events of the night, unable to stomach the look of disgust he’s sure is all over your pretty face. “The ones you picked up today. I thought I didn’t know them but I did. They’re some kind of… aphrodisiac or some shit like that. Merle…” he trails off, skipping over the reason he knew about them in the first place. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. “Y’were feeling so sick ‘n those things… with the amount you ate they would’ve– they would’ve killed ya if I didn’t…”

“You saved me,” you state, cradling his face so that he can see you. His face is all scrunched up like he wants to cry and he hates himself for it– he has no right to feel like shit. He shakes his head. “You did. You saved me. I would’ve died if you didn’t do as I said, as I wanted you to.” You kiss his lips chastely. “Y’know, I meant what I said earlier. While we were…”

“Nah,” he scoffs. “Y’were just saying shit ‘cause of the drugs. S’okay, ya don’t have to worry ‘bout my feelings.”

“No,” you frown, disconcerted that he always seems to bring himself down without even realising it. “I meant it. I’ve wanted you for a while, since– since the CDC, actually. When we played that card game after dinner and ya helped me get to bed since I was too drunk to even stand.” You smile as you remember the feeling of his arm around your waist and the soft pat on your head once you were resting on the pillow. You tuck some strands of hair behind his ear and his throat dries. Shrugging, you say, “I just never thought you liked me that way.”

Daryl weighs his options, wonders if he should take a leap of faith or pretend he’s never thought of you that way. This is too much for him. He’s scared to bare his chest wide open only for you to dislike what’s inside. But then he sees the earnest look in your eye and behind it, the fear that he won’t say anything at all. 

“I do,” he gets out through the fist clutching his vocal chords. “Like you. Like that, I mean. I–” He shuts his eyes at how useless he’s with words (another reason why you deserve someone better than him). However, instead of rolling your eyes at him or making a derisive sound like he expected, you simply giggle at his uselessness, reaching for him once more. 

He lets you kiss him and touch him as much as you want. You trace his brow bone and cheekbones with the soft pads of your fingers, play with the ends of matted hair and twirl them around your index. When you yawn, he makes sure you have your top and jacket back on and lets you rest on his chest. He stretches his arm so he can reach his discarded crossbow and leaves it on his side. “C’mon, go to sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

pls reblog if u enjoyed it, it’ll make me twirl my hair and kick my feet :3

[grimesgirll]

you want to know what his deal is.

why the only facial expression he can manage is a scowl, why he seems so pent up.

rick grimes is a mystery to you.

some spooky backstory is written all over his face but there’s never been a clue of it otherwise - and you can only tell because you spend so much time watching him.

you never imagined yourself becoming obsessed with a man twice your age but here you are. you want to know what his face looks like when he cums. the older man is rotting your brain from the inside out.

it’s not until he stumbles upon you boxing alone in the empty gym that you realize it was on his mind too.

he doesn’t say anything upon entering and his footsteps are light but his reflection in the mirror gives him away. he’s watching from the stairwell as you go through your close combat training. it’s a rigorous routine recommended to you by one of your superiors that you feel deep in your core.

you pack power into every punch; trying to land blows strategically and not just wherever your own pent up sexual frustration sends them.

rick can’t help it when the once familiar straining in his pants starts up. he wordlessly runs a hand through his dark hair. despite the uneasy tension between the two of you, rick wants to get to know you better. not too well but well enough to know how you look after you get all of that energy out of your system.

he's lost in a daydream in the sleek underground training facility. the sound of footsteps exiting to the right breaks him out of his thoughts - thoughts of bending you over the weight lifting bench.

you traipse into the women’s locker room off the forest green paneled hallway.

he shouldn’t be thinking about following you.

you’re way too young for him.

before former private grimes can fully talk himself out of it, the image of you during one of your trainings materializes in his mind. he was supervising the new cadets - you, formerly - and you were stretching with the rest of your counterparts. you’d been in a standing straddle when you two locked eyes with each other.

the delicate balance of maintaining eye contact while not outright staring at your ass only took a few seconds to blur. rick was quickly turning his head and keeping his eyes averted.

ever since then, you’d caught hurried glimpses of each other. sometimes it felt like the older man’s eyes lingered on you though, like he was boring into you on another level.

you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t on your mind.

being freshly twenty a decade into the apocalypse didn’t make for the best dating scene. yeah, dating someone who could easily be your father was wild, but you didn’t have many other viable options. rick pushed all the right buttons for you no one else could.

as the water cascades down your back under the showerhead, your hand drifts below your abdomen to cup your sensitive bundle of nerves. you push past the semi-thick layer of hair covering your folds until your pointer finger is dipping inside of you.

despite it being your own fingers penetrating you, you still moan out loud, thankful that the showers are so empty and remote enough that you can enjoy having them all to yourself. you exhale and speed up your ministration. you add a finger for the added challenge. a third is sliding towards your entrance when you hear the shuffle of feet.

you cock your head. there's no reason for anyone else to be in here. there weren't many other female officers and all of the ones you knew trained here on much different schedules.

it's probably just the loud banging fan you and one of the female helicopter pilots had bitched together about. you ignore it and go back to your shower, sticking your head back enough that the shower is massaging your scalp, meanwhile your fingers massage your clit and your spongy insides.

god, you wish rick was here. his fingers were pretty large. coming in his embrace had to feel so fulfilling.

your taboo thoughts are interrupted by a loud banging. removing your fingers is an inconvenient affair, as you can't ignore that so you slowly creep towards the shower entrance, slipping past the curtain to see the subject of your shower fantasies standing before you.

the sage green towel you'd brought with is laying soaked on teh tiled floor while rick turns and smiles sheepishly at you. "this isn't what it looks like."

"i'm sure it's not."

rick averts his eyes and rotates to face the lockers. "i'm sorry. i can get you another towel."

you suddenly remember that you're on your feet naked. a rose blush colors your face. your cheeks grow even redder when you notice the massive bulge in his pants.

"is this turning you on?"

"what?"

"is seeing me naked turning you on?" you elaborate. please turn around, you hope.

"i'm not looking at you," he chides your name. "that's why i asked if you wanted a towel."

"if you didn't want to fuck me you would've left already."

regardless of facing the other way, rick's entire body tenses. a select few of his muscles twinge.

"you walked in on me-,"

"-that was an accident."

"yeah, yeah, rick," you chuckle.

the older man is raising an eyebrow when he turns around to face you. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to see you like-like this but don't forget that i'm your commanding officer."

“i’ll forgive you if you fuck me.”

a gasp exits your mouth when you observe him grasp his crotch at your words.

"your place or mine?"

it's not long before you've found semi-appropriate apparel to ditch the gym in as you follow rick back to his townhouse on base.

the soldier is pushing you through the door. it doesn't seem like he cares when you stumble across the threshold. he just slaps your ass, gesturing to the stairs.

your feet carry you robotically up the tiny staircase until you're walking into a bedroom. you don't spend long on your feet though because rick is shoving you onto the bed roughly. you want to be taken aback at the treatment; however you can't say that you're surprised that rick is such a rough lover.

“you want me to take it off?”

rick is referring to the black hand edging nearer to your spandex clothed pussy.

you shake your head. “i don’t mind,” you assure him, shutting your hips closer to a black, prosthetic finger.

"easy enough," he remarks and leans down to capture your velvety lips in a bruising battle of tongues that you lose immediately.

he goes to pull down your shorts but you stop him. you sit up on your knees and lay your hands over the strict outline in his pants.

"fuck," he rasps.

"want me to suck you off?"

"only if you get on your knees now."

he doesn't have to tell you twice. you undo his pants in olympic record time, lapping at the head of his already engorged cock. you don't tease him; his shaft is hitting the back of your throat before you know it and he has to breathe deeply to prevent himself from thrusting the rest of him down your throat.

rick had seen the way your eyes had widened at the sight of his erection back in the showers. you probably didn't anticipate this kind of behavior from a man his age. he wants to be gentle for you but that would just make it personal.

you're a junior officer who he should not be fraternizing like this with but he can't resist the hot, suction your tight little mouth is providing. not when you take him so well.

"good job, sweetheart," he praises. "a little lower," he plants his hands in your hair and manually forces your lips farther down his girthy length. "that's it, honey."

it isn't long before his dick is covered in spit and with every thrust, you're fighting off a gag. you do your best to swallow around his cock, reveling in the moans erupting from him as his hands dug further into your soft, gossamer hair.

“take a break, sweetheart,” rick pulls you off of his cock.

“you about ready?” he inquires, lazily pumping a prosthetic finger into you and his other hand around his cock.

you nod eagerly. he doesn't say anything - just works another unforgiving, bionic finger into you. "rick!" you whimper.

the southerner sends you an icy blue glare. "what was that?"

you gulp. "i'm sorry, sir."

rick smirks at you. "are you?"

"mhmm."

"how will you make it up to me?"

your hips writhe against his soft mattress beneath you. "sir, i want to make it up to you with my tight pussy, sir!"

his smirk grows. "ready whenever you are."

"i'm ready now, sir. i'm ready for your big cock."

you thought you'd be following along but you completely lose the plot when rick replaces his cyborg fingers with his fleshy cock and you're screaming.

"shh, hush!" rick slaps a hand over your mouth.

you scream muffled around his hand as he inserts each punishing inch into you. the stretch is intense and searing and you think you're going to pass out but after ninety seconds of feeling like rick would tear you part - you convulse around him.

"damn, already?"

you want to be embarrassed but you're hard pressed to care as your senior officer continues his brutal assault on your inexperienced pussy.

is he in my cervix? you ponder.

you crane your head backwards to spectate as the older soldier tunnels in and out of you. he has to be rearranging your kidneys and he has to be loving it from how dilated his pupils are. your tall, dark, and handsome superior is lost in your unrelenting cunt, head tipping back when he paints your plush insides white for the first time.

returning to earth momentarily, he discovers your eyes so intently laser focused on his. he scowls.

you grimace when he briefly slides out of you, but any complaints are momentarily paused when you get a mouth full of pillow.

this feels wrong. like he shouldn’t be fucking the young woman whose twentieth birthday his small battalion celebrated just the other week. it’s arduous to convince himself that this all wrong though - how can he when you’re clenching around him and mewling his name?

“rick!”

“you plannin’ on wakin’ up the rest of base?”

you shake your head, struggling to contain your moans - how can you when the older man is fucking the daylights out of you?

“be a good girl and shut up.” rick commands, reaching around to prod a finger at your lips and into your mouth. without asking, you go ahead and suck on his firm digits. the groans you elicit have you murmuring around his finger. “much better,” he commends you, rewarding you with a playful slap on your ass.

the sting reverberates through your pussy. the corresponding cry that comes from you only causes the man mercilessly filling you up to snort, landing another spank. he chuckles when you pulse around him.

“again already?”

has anyone ever told you you’re too big? you want to ask, but without the energy you just nod and hum.

the soldier’s speed only becomes more frantic. you can tell he’s finally close again from the way he’s digging his fingernails into your hips and burying himself deep inside of your already coated cunt.

yeah, he has to be my touching my cervix. you decide. probably ripped it open.

you feel ripped open by rick. it doesn't matter though, he doesn't slow even as your sopping cunt is leaking with your slick and his first load. his second release reaches even deeper inside of you, being plugged by rick's thick length as he collapses on top of you.

rick rolls over slightly, graying chestnut curls falling in his face as he gathers you closer to him. still inside of you, he's hard like bedrock. a hand reaches up to squeeze at your chest.

you whine when his mouth washes over your rosy bud and he grazes his teeth as well. "rick, too much." you pout at him, lips swollen.

“you think I’m done?”

[luvrxbunny]

a new taste

Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader x Vampire!Eddie Munson

Prompt: Threesome

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smoking (weed ofc), blood, handjob, a little bit of hair pulling, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.8k

A/N: i've never written a threesome before- i've never even watched threesome porn so if this is inaccurate or anything im sorry 

You choke on your smoke and pass the joint back to a laughing Steve. “You really can’t handle your smoke, huh?” You hurriedly reach for your water bottle and start chugging it, trying to take in as much water as possible to ease the burning in your throat. He takes two large hits before you finally feel calm enough to respond. “I can take it!” You reach for the joint, Steve shakes his head with a chuckle as he hands it to you. 

“It’s just that once I start coughing it’s like I can’t stop.” You cautiously take a hit, inhaling slowly, testing your throat. “Then why do you keep smoking? Just take a break, Jesus.” He has a smile-like grimace on his face as he watches you exhale, a smile resting on his face when you don’t choke. 

You pass the joint back to him and drink some more water. “I gotta get high enough for Eddie.”

You, Steve, and Eddie have been smoking all night, Eddie had been gifted some extra weed by Reefer Rick as a thank you and you both felt honored to help him finish it all. You promised you’d smoke a bunch for him since he couldn’t anymore and his eyes sparkled at the offer. 

Steve freezes for a moment before taking a hit. “I forget he’s like that now… Must be weird, having to suck your blood just to get high.” Eddie’s in the kitchen, across the trailer from his room because he knew you’d all end up with the munchies. You smile sadly at Steve but quickly brighten up, “He doesn’t really mind anymore, now that he can just suck my blood. We both kinda like it… It’s not bad..”

You trail off as you pass to Steve. “Whaddya mean?” You’re picking at Eddie's carpet and your brain recalls how it feels to have Eddie drink you up. Your legs subconsciously press together and Steve pretends not to notice. “It feels just- nice. It’s warm and cold at the same time, gives me goosebumps every time.” You’re entering a trance as you ramble on about Eddie, your hand reaching up for the joint with you barely noticing. 

“It makes me tingle too, it feels so romantic, to think that I’m helping him in such a detrimental way. He literally needs me on a basic, base level. I don’t know- God! I’m- I might just be weird… I don’t know.” Steve’s face is a bit pinker than it was the last time you looked up at him. It could just be the weed though. “Does it like… Does it like turn you on?” His voice drops to a whisper, his eyes wide and innocent with genuine curiosity. 

“It kinda- Yeah, no. It totally does. It feels like…” You scoot closer to Steve, taking a quick hit as he leans in. You’re both huddled together like you’re middle schoolers sharing a secret. “It feels like a super intense, drawn-out hickey. Or that he’s somehow connected a- a nerve to like- my pussy or something.” Steve gasps sharply at your words, shocked by how vulgar they were. “I know! I know, okay but this is serious. It’s crazy, Steve. I feel like I could- like I could literally get addicted or-”

“Guys! I bet you guys are gonna love this!” Eddie comes back and you back away from Steve, like you guys were caught doing something you shouldn’t. You look Eddie in the eyes with a smile as you take another hit, he nods at you briefly, warmth spreading in your lower stomach as his approval. He excitedly waits for you to exhale before explaining his new masterpiece to you. 

Steve can’t listen because he’s too focused on your previous conversation. He’s thinking about how you described it, the romance of it. He tries to get back to the conversation but you’re taking a hit and he’s brought to the previous conversation again. The way you’re inhaling joint after joint just so you’re high enough for both you and Eddie. Is just so sweet to him. 

Eddie’s finished his explanation and is just accepting your praise after trying a piece. The teasing ends up with you in Eddie's lap, giggling at his words as you smoke. Steve watches as the two of you slowly get more handsy, more physical, and more involved with each other. You guys only separate to allow you to take a hit. He can’t help but notice the sultry look in Eddie’s eyes as he watches you inhale, getting yourself high up in the clouds all for him. You choke on the hit a bit, shaking your head as you pass the joint back to Steve, waving your hands in surrender before grabbing your water. Eddie turns to Steve with an amused smile, trying not to laugh at your predicament. 

“Softie, huh?” Eddie jabs his thumb in your direction with one hand, rubbing your back with the other as you chug water. Steve laughs with a nod before taking another hit and watching you and Eddie again. 

He’s rubbing your back and petting your hair with a fond smile as you come down from your fit. Your eyelids are lower than they were before, and there's a furrow in your brows as you pout at Eddie. “Can you drink me now? Feel too high.” You whine at him and he giggles at you, slowly pulling you toward him and maneuvering you into his lap. 

“Yeah? Need me to drink you up, baby?” He whispers in your ear, a taunt only meant for you but Steve hears. He takes a deep breath and tries to pretend he can’t feel the heat building in his stomach, pretending like he’s not actively keeping himself from getting hard. He takes a slow hit to calm himself down and looks around for an ashtray. He’s stubbing the joint out into the ashtray, shaking his head at how much ash has accumulated, how many roaches are buried in it, even some half-joints that could’ve been smoked but no one would want to put their lips on it anymore. He turns to chastise Eddie about it, make fun of how he worships weed but unintentionally wastes more of it than Robin does, and they all make fun of her for it. 

When he turns all those thoughts leave his head. You’re in Eddie’s lap, head thrown all the way back, giving Steve a full view of Eddie’s fangs piercing your skin. He can see where they’re sliding into you, the little bit of blood that’s pooled around them, and the obscene slurping noises Eddie’s making. You giggle at the exaggerated noises leaving his mouth and Steve can see Eddie smirk a bit at it, until your giggle turns into a moan for a moment, before your hand slaps over your mouth. Steve watches how Eddie reacts, eyebrows furrowing with a growl before pulling you up, straightening your back against him, and groaning at the whine you let out. 

Eddie bites down harder, forcing more blood from your wound as he presses your body against his. He can feel your hips twitching like you’re trying not to grind against him. He presses his hips into yours, rubbing his growing dick against you. You whisper out a harsh “Eddie!” and your fingers dig into his arms. He quickly pulls away from your neck, surprised and worried, thinking he hurt you. You’re looking at him with hazy, desperate but embarrassed eyes, flickering to the side for a moment and he follows your gaze to a red-faced Steve Harrington.

Eddie had honestly forgotten he was there. He takes in Steve’s disheveled state and decides he doesn’t care either. He nods at you for a second before diving back in, a little more aggressive than before, eliciting a choked moan from you. He can hear Steve’s quiet gasp from the corner and peaks at him from his peripherals, he can see the tight fabric of Steve’s jeans shifting over his thigh as his cock fills it out. He has to hold in a scoff as he watches Steve clear his throat and press the heel of his palm into it. 

He focuses back on you and notices your eyes pull from Steve and shut quickly, your thighs tensing in his lap and your hips twitch into his again, a soft whine spilling out of your lips. He feels his head clouding with your high, the closeness, and the absurdity of the situation. He pulls away from you and tries his hardest to ignore the disappointed sound that leaves your lips. He licks his lips, drinking up the extra blood there, ignoring the drop that’s begun to slide down his neck. “Still high enough, baby?” 

He’s stroking your back as you nod, your head resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, and turned to Steve. Eddie looks back over to him, taking in his desperate figure. He started another joint and is suddenly very interested in the burning bud at the end. “What were you guys talking about? Before I came in?” Eddie’s voice is low and calm, Steve stiffens up before shaking his head, shrugging, and taking another hit. “I don’t know- Stuff I guess.”

“We were talking about you, Eddie.” You confess and Steve chokes on his smoke. “About how it feels when- when you drink me.” Eddie’s eyebrows raise to his hairline, his hand never stopping its movements as he turns to Steve. “Really? And what were you saying?”

Steve’s shaking his head and waving his hands at you to stop as he continues his coughing fit. You would’ve listened if your eyes were open. “I was telling him about how good it feels.” Your voice is airy and far away, making Eddie smile. “About how much I love it.” Steve’s eyes are wide and staring at you before flickering up to Eddie and playing it off with a shrug. 

“Yeah... It’s- She was just telling me about it.” Eddie looks down at you for confirmation and sees your brows furrow in confusion. Steve offers the joint to you quietly to shut you up. 

“What do you think about it?” Steve’s blood runs cold. His cock is twitching in his pants as he analyzes what Eddie said, unable to believe where this conversation may lead. “I think I- It sounds good- nice.” He tries to keep away from Eddie’s gaze because he just can’t, he’s never had this look directed at him. He’s seen it once or twice, whenever Eddie got particularly hungry and you were making him wait… he never thought it’d be directed at him. “You think you’d like it, Stevie?” 

He gasps at the question, at the nickname. He can feel his cock beginning to cry into his briefs, he’s praying to any god that it’s not showing through, that Eddie can’t see the way he’s pulsing beneath his jeans. “Yeah. I think I would.” He takes a breath and meets Eddie’s eyes. “You want a taste of me, Munson?” You whine from under Eddie’s head and Steve notices you’ve been watching the whole time. 

Guilt rips through him for a moment, his thoughts hadn’t gone that far, and they hadn’t expanded to think that you may not be okay with this. Even if you’re right there, you’re all high out of your minds maybe you don’t-

You’re kissing Eddie, moaning into his mouth and openly grinding into his lap. He pulls away to whisper to you, placing a hand on your hip to slow your pace as you whine at him. You guys have a little conversation as Steve breathes a sigh of relief. Either you’re okay with it or you just don’t care. He’s perfectly fine with either option- as long as you aren’t mad at him. 

Your hands come behind Eddie’s head, gripping his hair lightly and nodding against him, your hips still humping the prominent bulge in his pants. “Harrington.” Eddie's voice is domineering, his eyes are still on you. Steve gaps and goes red at the dramatic sound. Eddie turns to him with a smile and his hand out, his thick leather bracelet choking his veiny arm. “C’mere.” Steve has to consciously hold in a whimper at the rasp in his voice, he subtly presses his palm into his dick as he awkwardly crawls to Eddie. 

You’re shakily undoing Eddie’s belt as he pulls Steve in, a hand on his shoulder as he settles next to him. His eyes stay on a flustered Steve as he lifts his hips for you to pull his pants down. “So here’s what’s gonna happen; she’s gonna ride me, you can kiss her, touch her, just don’t fall in love.” Steve’s about to laugh but when he looks up Eddie is dead serious, Steve swallows and nods curtly. “I’m gonna feed on you, just a bit and you’re definitely gonna love it.” Eddie’s eyes flicker to the crotch of Steve’s pants, the obvious bugle, and the rapidly spreading wet spot at his tip. 

Steve nods more eagerly as you rub Eddie between your lips, he gets to watch Eddie’s eyes roll back with a gasp, and his fangs slide out of his gums. His eyes are softer when they come back around, turning to you with a soft smile. “Put it in, sweetheart. Mhm- yeah.” His eyes close again and his brows furrow. Eddie’s hand rests itself on Steve’s shoulder and grips his hair as you slide down onto his cock. He’s pulling tighter the more you take, whispering out praises of you but directed at Steve. “Oh, she’s taking it slow. Fuck. It’s cause she getting j- jealous. Hah- Fuck. She’s punishing me. Aren’t you, honey?” You moan and whine out an affirmative response. Steve’s eyes are in the back of his head, his body going slack, sliding down as he fumbles with his pants, desperately trying to get his hands on his cock. He’s trying to hold in his noises, feeling like he’ll disturb the moment between the two of you but when his eyes focus again Eddie’s giving him a disapproving stare. “Don’t hold anything in. What’s the point of that?”

Eddie wraps his hand around Steve’s head and pulls him back up, bending down slightly to kiss him. He’s surprised at the softness of Steve’s lips, how quickly his mouth opens for him, and the little moans he’s letting out. You pull Eddie back by his hair and force his eyes to meet yours. “No.” You let him go roughly and keep your eyes on his as you pull Steve in, only turning when your lips are about to meet his. Steve’s in the clouds at all the stimulation he’s receiving.

He can hear Eddie whining, moaning, and chuckling at your reaction but he can only focus on your angry whimpers into his lips. Steve brings his hand up to your face, pulling you in and pressing the lower part of your back so you grind against Eddie. He can’t help but smile as your whines become higher in pitch, and you melt into his lips, your hands resting in his hair, scratching his scalp softly. He tries to stay focused on you but Eddie’s hands are stroking over his neck now, his nails scraping gently. Steve feels Eddie’s breath ghost over his ear, he assumes you could feel it too by the way you moan into his mouth. 

“Ready, Harrington?” Steve barely has time to register what Eddie’s asking before he feels two tips push through his skin, he feels pain shoot through his shoulder before an overwhelming amount of pleasure flows through his entire body. He has to pull away from your lips, one hand coming behind Eddie’s head to keep him in place. “FU-ck that’s- Holy shit I-” Steve can’t even form a coherent thought as he feels Eddie’s lips lift into a smirk against his skin. You’re fumbling with his underwear, wiggling your hand underneath the waistband, and finally pulling his soaked cock out of its confines. He moans again at the cold air on his wet shaft, it’s drawn even longer when you wrap your hand around it. 

You don’t even need to move your hand, Steve’s hips buck into your fist all on their own so you focus back on Eddie. You place kisses on his exposed neck, stretched from turning to drink Steve. You bite him as your hips slightly speed in their slow grinding rhythm. Your kisses turn sloppy as you focus on the way he feels inside you. You’re mind is getting cloudier by the second and you can hear Eddie moaning into Steve’s neck, and the gurgle of blood with every whimper. Eddie pulls away violently and pulls you away from his neck, shoving your lips to his instantly. 

His hips are thrusting up into you frantically at the thought of Steve’s blood smearing all over your face. He reaches blindly beside him and pushes your hand off of Steve’s cock, taking matters into his own hands as he separates from you. “Eddie.” You whine his name out, earning a moan from Eddie and a whine from Steve. 

Eddie places his other hand on your lower back, pulling you close, forcing you to hump him. Your clit bumps into his thick patch of curls and you feel like you may float away. 

You’re surrounded by whimpering and whining men. You can hear the wetness of your pussy in time with the slick noise of Eddie’s hand moving over Steve’s cock. He’s fucking you both to the same tempo. You moan into Eddie’s face, pulling him in for a brief kiss before moving to Steve. 

You hear Eddie moan beside you and Steve’s hands bury in your hair, gripping gently as his hips begin to fuck into Eddie’s fist. Steve pulls you closer and breaks the kiss, moving down your neck and licking your skin like it’s his favorite flavor. He keeps his hand on the back of your neck as he kisses every square inch of your neck, moaning along with you at the feeling. 

He works his way back to your jaw, his lips lingering by your ear, letting shuddering breaths blow over the shell of it. “Please tell me you’re cl-ose” His voice cracks into a whine and his hips stutter in Eddie’s grip.

You moan and grind faster against Eddie, his moans go from low groans to frantic whimpers. He leans to the side and buries his face in Steve's neck, trying to muffle the way you make him feel. 

You can feel his cock twitching and stiffening even more as he nears his orgasm. His moans become more unrestrained as he gets closer to the edge. Your eyes are focused on Eddie despite the way Steve is gnawing at your ear lobe. You watch his fangs slide out from his gums again, a telltale sign his orgasm is about to seize him. 

You pull Steve out of your neck by his hair and you’re shocked at his expression, his brows furrowed even though his eyes are rolled back. You can see his adam’s apple bouncing as he tries to calm himself. “M’ onna cum- I can’t- M’sorry-“ 

His sentence cuts off with a gasp as Eddie lurched for you, making sure to keep his hand working over his cock while he dug his fangs into your previous punctures, making sure it stings. You and Steve moan into each other's mouths, cumming at the same time. 

Your orgasm crashes into you like a train. Just ripping through you, destroying your every thought. You can feel Eddie’s moans vibrating against your neck as you cum and his nails dig into your hips, leaving crescents as his orgasm flows over him. His hips press up into you, filling you with his dick completely before cumming. 

His head rips from your neck to moan your name against it. Steve leans back, resting against Eddie a bit as he ruts into you. His hand leaves Steve’s cock and plays with your clit. Eddie knows you came, he knows you’re sensitive but he also knows that you’ll clamp down on his cock every time he rubs over your clit. So he plays with you until he’s satisfied. He lets you squeeze around him as he fills you up, moaning about how good you feel and apologies. “I know y-you’re sensitiv-ve, baby.” 

His words tremble with the tenses of his stomach, his load pumping into you, groaning with each pulse of his cock and whimpering every time he rubs over your tender clit. 

It takes a little bit for you all to come down. Your face is resting in Eddie’s neck and his in yours as Steve rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder. You’re all panting quietly into the silence of the room until Steve starts snoring lightly. Your head lifts at the same time as Eddie’s and you both smile softly at his sweaty, red face, relaxed in sleep.

Eddie turns back to you, careful not to move too much. “Did you like that?” He asks gently, eye piercing yours in his questioning. You think it over for a moment. You had moments of jealousy, you didn’t really care for Eddie feeding off of Steve but you can’t deny the fact that the entire situation was hot. “I think… Did you like feeding off of Steve?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline as an annoying smirk works its way onto his face. “You’re not wondering about the fact that I just jerked another guy off?” He chuckles quietly and embarrassment bubbles in your stomach. “Did you not like it?” He asks with the same smirk. 

“Don’t be mean Eddie. I just- I don’t know. Since you’ve been feeding off me it’s only been me.” Your eyes look down at Eddie’s stomach, trying to avoid his gaze at all costs. “And I know how it feels… It might not feel like anything to you but I feel like it’s super intimate? I don’t know. I just- I don’t think I’d want you to feed off of anyone else? Like this time is fine cause I kissed him… Whatever. If you c- If you could avoid it though?” He stays silent and you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. 

It feels a little unfair; what you’re asking. It’s like asking someone to only have one type of food for the rest of their lives. “I mean I understand if you don’t listen to me. I’m just sa- I’m just saying how I feel about it..? I get it’s a lot to ask. I’m sorry.” You feel Eddie’s hands rub over your back before lifting your face, tilting you toward him. He shakes his head lightly and kisses you. It’s feather-light but sends a shock through you, his hand cradles your jaw, rubbing his thumb back and forth before pulling away. 

“It’s not a lot to ask, baby. You’re my favorite taste anyway.” He says with a shrug and a smile. You wrap your arms around him as best you can and you all fall asleep that way. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[dollyfl1rt]

warnings: none, suggestive

you often found yourself sleeping in little to nothing.

which, didn’t change when you arrived at alexandria.

the night would start the same;

you’d come home while everyone else was still out. then, you quickly got out of your “outside clothes”. soon after, you showered in all hot water to get rid of the sticky feeling.

fun right?

yeah that was the routine..until you were met with your stepdad while coming out of the bathroom as you jumped. “oh my god, im so sorry” you chucked.

“yeah i uh..” rick trailed off trying to look anywhere but your smooth legs. “didn’t mean to scare you” he licked his lips before looking off to the side.

you gave him a quick once over, noticing a few cuts on his hands and forearms. “i can get dressed and tend to those if you want” you shrugged with your arms folded across the front of your damp towel

maybe you were just a young adult or maybe it was your newly shaved vagina. you’ll never know, but something about the way he looks currently, made you wetter in already wet places.

“don’t think that’d be smart, princess” he told turning his head to face you “and why’s that?” you inquired shifting your weight to the other leg “‘cause im thinking stuff i shouldn’t” the man admitted quietly while looking at your thighs and collar bones and defined breast shape.

thats all the more reason to. “‘m gonna go to sleep”

you’re not. you had intended on going back to your room, getting dressed, then touching yourself to the thought of how your stepdad looked tonight, wishing that the hand in your pants was his.

“goodnight rick” you smiled innocently as he covered his front before walking to his and your mother’s shared bedroom.