#daryl x afab

[writella]

Daryl comes home midday and you allow him to distract you from your work and studying with kisses. (cw: daryl x afab!reader, just a little more than suggestive- 18+, mdni- but ends quickly, kisses and sweetness! wc: a little over 1000)

Palms slide on the bed, arms caging your backside as you read; and soon enough, without you even knowing he came through your door, Daryl is there— lips right by your head, whispering in a mixture soft and gruff, the word, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you reply, turning over to look up at him, not hesitating to let your favorite distraction invade all your thoughts. You take in his face in the sun’s high noon glow. From your view, the sun brightens his features, making strands of his brown hair a dark blonde, and his blue eyes become deep ocean wells even through the squint. But to him, the sun is shining down on you, creating an outline of an angel’s glow in the sky.

Well aren’t you two in love?

“Still at it?” He asks, taking note of the book and papers and packets surrounding you before kissing at your jaw and nuzzling into your neck. It was just supposed to be a greeting, obviously you were studying, but then he lingers there for a moment. It feels so nice here, with you, in this room— it’s peaceful; quiet and airy.

Your cottage was dark other than the sunlit window. It felt cooler than any other house in Alexandria. A nice change for his hot skin that had been out working since morning; and of course before that, he was gone for most of the week. Typical, but you’re both used to it. Him, always doing something, always helping. It’s just what happens when you’re the guy everyone goes to when they want it done right. Not to mention he did like to be needed— even if he never showed it— and he preferred the outside more than indoors. The outside did sometimes mean without you though, so any chance to remember exactly how the feeling of your touch felt, he took, like now. Even if he memorized every part of you, the feeling of the pads of your fingers against the hair and veins and scars of his arms and face, nothing was like the real thing. You felt the same, that’s why you instinctively parted your knees when you turned over to face him. How could he help how perfectly he fit in between? It was seamless.

Soon enough you were kissing. It’s soft, but the undertones of fire hearts wanting more were there and fastly growing. Daryl comes closer, elbows placed above your shoulder, your thighs closing in his waist. You grind upwards, and he downwards. He puts a hand on your cheek, your jaw. You touch his own. He kisses you, slips his tongue into your mouth, taking the lead. The small mmms come out then. Everything is perfect, this feeling is so right. Even if he’s sweating. Even if you hate when he dirties the sheets with his muddy, forest worn clothes. When it’s Daryl, it’s hard not to give in. The next moment is always unknown.

You touch the shorter part of his hair at the front, his bangs— he hates when you call them that— and then your fingers slide through the rest, twirling down to the end of his strands. The sweat and humidity from outside has made patterns in them. Your kisses become pecks until you let go. Looking at him tenderly you say, “I like when your hair gets wavy like this.”

He moved his face to the side, your palm meeting his jaw. He nuzzles until you reach his nose, he kissed your hand, then kissed your shoulders, breathing in the tops of your arm, you feel the air, it’s warm; it tickles lightly. “You smell nice,” he finally responds. A compliment as a thank you to yours. Never can take one, can he? He just focuses on you. Right now: your scent. He can’t describe what it is, something that he can only define as pretty; the color pink; flowery— you.

You smile as softly and sweetly as the smell he describes in his head and kiss his lips again, quickly, a peck, then another, kiss, kiss, kiss until your lips mold again. Your tongue enters his mouth this time, sliding against the top and you twist your head, but he overpowers, he can’t help it. Daryl really likes kissing. It’s more than he ever thought he would before he started to love you. There is something about the innocence that comforts him. You can make it passionate, sexual, but you can always bring it back to innocence and puppy love and being like teenagers; things he never got to experience with the purity of it all. It’s nice. A way to show his affection through action; wordless romanticism. He adored it. He thought you deserved it.

Your hands reach for his hair once more, you play with it. Your fingers lace through the nape to the split ends you couldn’t even tell were there. He likes it, it feels soothing. Your other hand is on his neck and you feel the vibrations of his gruff humming. Even if you’re under him, you’re able to make him feel good. You sigh happily and start to roll upward on him again, he’s making you feel good too and you need him. You kiss him quick, returning to the open mouth pecks: kiss, kiss, kiss, and then you linger- two pairs of parted lips locking in on a final moment, it feels enchanted, but then he withdraws.

Your eyes become wide as you look up at him. What will he do next? You want him back.

“Gotta finish your work, sunshine.”

Wait! But— you knew he was right… you were procrastinating, but really you let him, he started it, it’s his fault! So, really? Now? No more? Not even just a little?

Afraid not.

He kisses your shoulder, smelling that pretty flower pinkness one more time. “I’ll be back when you finish.”

You reply with a voice of sad reluctance, “…okay,” you sigh.

You knew better though, working in daylight was for the best. Who else was going to teach these Alexandria kids unless you committed yourself to learning how. “Promise?”

His eyes examine the blooming of your lips. “Y’know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Usually he’d keep it there, but he did miss you, and he sure did take note of how needy you were getting. He gives in to the pretty pink flower pout. “Promise.”

And with that, his finger slowly moves down your clothed mound until it finds your clit, one press in as he kisses your lips once more and all the heat from below pools. You feel it hotly. It was the quickest touch, as quick as he retracted it, and then he left.

Oh… guess it’s time to finish that reading, you suppose.

[28gaugeshotgunshells]

TWO'S COMPANY THREE'S A CROWD

.- TWD, Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Shane Walsh -.

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A/N: I think this will be at least two parts, but enjoy the first for now! This is written as a bit of an AU? lol, not sure how to exactly describe it. Reader is in Lori's place and it is set during mid or so season 2. I started TWD awhile ago and wanted to write for it. I've never really posted my works before, so hopefully this will be enjoyable for y'all. --------------------------------------------------

Above the sanctuary that was Hershel's farm, was the marmalade sky; perfectly painted with the color of the setting sun. Gentle clouds existed there, and the sight almost made you forget about the disquiet horrors that laid just outside the property line.

A tired sigh falls past your lips as your now callused fingers dig into the damp fabric of the shirt you sit and wash. A dark ragged cloth is clutched in your hand as you use it to scrub and scrub at the clashing red marred into the cerulean material.

Blood.

In the past, you'd only ever really see it when Carl got a bloody nose or whenever you managed to get a paper cut. Now it was anything but a rare sight. As your thoughts wander, your gaze pins into soapy scrubbed out shirt below, eyes burning into the stain. You knew it would never come out, and yet you still promptly dunked it into the cool water of the bucket below. Because you still had to try.

Try and hope. It felt like that's all you ever did anymore, two things that never ever guaranteed pay off. You swish the shirt around in the lukewarm water below, being faintly reminded of the washer you used to have; the haunt of the sweet domesticity you used to know ravaging your mind, possibly even sanity.

"..." You sigh out the built up inner tension, and switch your focus towards wringing out this shirt. Your hands diligently work to twist and curl the wet fabric, squeezing out the water it holds inside.

The only thing interrupting the motions you go through however is the distinct noise of crunching grass, one that usually alluded to nearby footsteps. Your head turns, preferring not to be ignorant to what the source was.. just in case. Although as soon as you spot the source in question, you curse the curiosity driven by your own paranoia.

It was Shane, his figure standing tall and imposing. Most of his impose being due to.. your history. His deceit about the death of your husband, what the both of you shared amidst his lie, the stinging sentiment you felt at the mere thought of him.

God, you really didn't want to talk to him right now.

Your grip on the shirt tightens as you swiftly turn your head back around, stand up, and then speed walk away towards the clothes line. hopefully he'd take the hint from your cold shoulder move. Alas, that hope of yours was severely underestimating just how stubborn Shane Walsh could be.

Within an instant you heard the simple crunches of grass become more urgent as Shane increased his charge towards you. He called out your name, his tone commanding and yet speckled with a sort of desperateness. He wanted you to hear him out.

"Hey hey- Let me tell you somethin'!"

No. You weren't going to do this, not today. He knew you were upset with him, why couldn't he just let you be? And so, without stopping you reach the clothes line and throw up the newly washed shirt, dead set on ignoring Shane.

It was regrettably, not as easy as that though, because as soon as you turned around you were face to face with the former officer. Instantly your face scrunched in annoyance as your mouth flew open to protest his presence, maybe even to berate him, but Shane spoke quicker.

"No no no- wait, just a minute. We need to talk."

"I don't have anything to say to you." You practically growled back as you hurriedly move to leave.

He steps directly in your way, hands reaching out and grasping your hips. "(Name)."

You hiss at him, "Don't touch me!"

This earns an exasperated sigh from him, "Ho-"

"WHUT!" You hear a shout from the distance, your heads turn instantly. It's Rick and he is MAD. "WHUT THE HULL!" Rick comes running full speed at you guys, and while Shane's distracted you take the opportunity to shake him off and step back.

"SHANE WAT ARE YOU DOIN' MANE!?" Rick says super mad as he speed walks over with his hands on his hips.

"NAWRICAHEASHABWALKOVERHERAAA!" Shane shouts back!!

You have no fucking clue what he's saying because his accent goes crazy!

"NAWWSHANEDONTYOUHAHABHAWSAYINGTHATANMMAYY!! YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MAH WIFE!" Rick shouts back.

"YOU KNOW I'M THE BETTER MANE RICK!!" Then Shane and Rick get so mad they press their foreheads together and start shouting a bunch of southern insults.

"You're an egg-suckin' dawg, Shane lemme tell you what!!" Rick shouts.

"Oh nawh mane!" Shane yells back, "YOUR FACE REMINDS ME OF A RUN-DOWN HONKY TONK!!"

"AY AY AY!" Rick growls Rick throws his right hook at Shane, knocking the other on his ass. Then Shane lunges forward like a fury-filled Chihuahua and tackles Rick to the grass.

"YOU BETTER STOP!! STOP!!" You shout to no avail, watching in anger as the two bros duke it out on the ground.

You get so mad that you pick up a large rock and hurl it at Rick's butt, earning a loud "OW!!!!!!" It doesn't stop them though.

Luckily though, you aren't the only ones on the farm and soon enough Hershel comes running out onto the grounds. "OH NOAT ON MAH FARM!" Hershel says, storming over.

"Hershel you have to stop them!" You plead to the old man, wanting help with their outburst.

"STOP IT YOU TURDBURGULARS! YOU-" then Hershel says a REALLY REALLY bad word and it makes you gasp and cover your mouth in shock.

You look over at Rick and Shane and they are also really shocked, instantly they stop fighting and take ten steps away from eachother. Shane looks.. traumatized, but Rick looks pissed!

Apparently Maggie was there too because you see her storm up behind Hershel. "Dad!!! You can't say that!" She whisper shouts at him all mad.

"OH JUST WAIT UNTIL MAH TWITTER FOLLOWERS HEAR ABOUT THIS ONE!" Rick roars, clearly offended.

Then Maggie ushers Hershel off, leading him back into the house quickly. They BASICALLY run away to avoid Rick cancelling them. Distantly you hear Hershel shouting about how "Itsa mah farm!" and "I miss the old days!"

You're also pretty sure you heard him let out a large old man fart, and then you saw a lump form in the back of his pants.. But anyway! You hear loud aggressive breathing and you look back at Shane and Rick who are both now pissed again. You think Rick knows you cheated now.. you didn't want to deal with that.. so...

"Sorry guys Sophia wanted me to braid her hair today." You say before dinking away as fast as possible.

"But Sophia is gone.." Shane whispers quietly to himself.... as he stares at your butt disappearing into the distance..

As you dink away you sigh in relief, literally thanking god that you didn't have to deal with those bumfucks! Although.. you aren't relieved for long because suddenly just then your stomach starts hurting like a bitch!

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME!" You shout at your belly as you boom over next to Dale's RV.

You fall to the ground and clutch your stomach in pain. Oh no.. Diarrhea! You prep yourself for a shart or something but then you just end up puking so you're like oh ok. You hurl into the grass next to the trailer and it kind of gets all over the side of Dale's RV because you don't puke straight down EVER. After like a minute of straight hurling, you finally finish and then Dale jumps out of the RV.

You look up at him from the ground.. his jaw is dropped and his eyes are fully widened. "HOLY COW! I almost thought I was in the exorcist for a minute!" He exclaims.

"Um what..." You reply.. cringe...

"Are you okay?" Dale asks.

"Yes." You reply, not wanting to talk about it..

"Marriage problems..?" Dale asks again..

"How did you know?!" You reply, finally looking up at him in surprise.

Dale shrugs, "I don't know I just guessed."

"Um okay Dale.."

Then Dale comes up next to you and crouches, placing a sweaty hand on your shoulder. "So.. (Name).. It's very common for married couples to fight when the hankypanky gets boring.." He begins. "I am actually a twister champion just so you know.."

"No Dale."

"Aw.."

Dale looks down at the ground all sad. "At least tell Rick I like his armpits."

"NO DALE!"

"Aw.." Then Dale walks back into the trailer.

You shake your head! Bro was wilding after his crazy wife died! First the exorcist and now he's trying to form a threesom- wait.. the exorcist.. Your eyes trail up to the puke on the RV. You remember what the bathrooms always looked like while you were pregnant with Carl.. insanely puke ridden. OH NO! WAS SHANE EVEN PULLING OUT WHILE YOU WERE BUMP AND DUMPING?! (dumping turds and wasting all the toilet paper btw)

Immediately you jump upwards, you run all the way over to Daryl's hobo homeless core set up on the side of the farm. You see Daryl sitting on the ground next to a weird little stick built fire.. he was diddling with a dead rabbit.

"EW!" You gag at the sight. "UGH! DARYL!"

"WHut!" Daryl shouts back, angry as always.

"I NEED YOU TO GO ON A RUN!" You hiss.

"OH HELL NAW OLIVE OIL YO ASS TRIPINGN!" Daryl roars back, clearly not going to do what you ask. What a WHORE!

"URRGGH!! FUCK OFF!" You flip him off, run up to his fire, kick dirt in it to make it go out and then you run away to find Glenn.

"WHERE IS HE.. WHERE IS HE!!" You search the farm like a hawk as you look around for that sumabitch.

IT TAKES YOU LIKE 7 MINUTES BUT EVENUTALLY YOU SPOT HIM DOING SOMETHING YOU DONT CARE WHAT HE'S DOING WHATEVER!! You run up to him.

"Glenn! There you are!" You hiss at him. He looks so confused and concerned.

"Uh- wha- huh?"

"I NEED YOU TO GO ON A RUN FOR ME DAMMIT!"

He flinches slightly when you shout, clearly surprised at how you're directing your random fury onto him. ".. For what?"

You calm down a bit as you pause to explain the predicament at hand.. you take in a deep breath.. "Well it's a special stick that changes patterns when you go pee on it.."

[k-nayee]

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 ᵗʷᵈ

Navigation

❝In a world gone dead, what makes you human might be the only thing that keeps us alive.❞

───────✧₊∘∘₊✧───────✧₊∘∘₊✧───────✧₊∘∘₊✧───────

ੈ✩‧₊ ̗̀➛ In which you navigate a world overrun by the dead, discovering your purpose and finding unlikely allies along the way.

∘₊✧───────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧───────✧₊∘

⇢ ˗ˏˋBLURB ࿐ྂˏ•*⁀➷ and Author's Note

⇢ ˗ˏˋCHAPTER 0.5࿐ྂˏ•*⁀➷ | OPERATION CRADLE: LOG AND CONDIFIDENTIAL REPORT

⇢ ˗ˏˋCHAPTER 1.࿐ྂˏ•*⁀➷ i | FLASHPOINT

⇢ ˗ˏˋCHAPTER 2.࿐ྂˏ•*⁀➷ ii | FALLOUT

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

── all rights reserved K-NAYEE 2020-2024. any and all fanfiction seen here belongs to me unless stated. please do not copy, plagiarize, translate, repost, or upload on any social media (tiktok, youtube, hell even facebook) without my permission.

[rainforest-daisies]

Day 3|shower sex

Character: Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader

TW: shower sex, manhandling, Daryl finally taking a shower

A/n: “omnomnom” -me eating this one up rn

Kinktober masterlist

Daryl's hands had been all over you since he got home. He had insisted you stay home and not accompany him on his ‘hunting trip’ that would ‘only take a day or so’, yet, it had been three.

He was covered in dirt and sweat, leaves stuck in the back of his hair from sleeping in a tree, with a desperate need for a shower being dismissed to hold you in his arms once more.

His fingers pulled at your sundress, praying to whoever was above that you weren’t wearing anything under it. Yet, before he could decipher if the prayer was heard, your hands pushed his torso away. “Get these clothes off,” before you could finish your sentence, he replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Get these clothes off, so I can wash them. You’ve been wearing them for three days straight.” You finished, spinning around and making your way to the bathroom to start a shower for him. “Lavender or strawberry?”

He let out a quiet grunt of confusion, “what soap scent do you want? You’re taking a shower before we do anything.” He was silent for a moment, until he quietly mumbled out “Lavender.”

—————————————————-

You sat on the couch, with an old book almost falling apart in your hands, fully immersed in the storyline, almost so immersed that you almost didn’t hear Daryl call for you from the bathroom. he had asked for you to hand him the shampoo, apparently, he couldn’t reach it on the counter from the shower. You grabbed it and reached to hand it to him, but his hand didn’t grasp onto the shampoo like you expected, it wrapped around your wrist and pulled you into the shower with him.

“Daryl! My dress! It-” Before you could finish, he interrupted you again, but this time with a kiss. His hand met the back of your thigh, swiftly lifting it up to wrap around his waist, whilst pushing you against the cold tile of the shower. He could feel your bare core pressed to his v-line, a quiet groan leaving his lips as he felt you shift against him, grinding yourself down on his lower abdomen. ” I was hopin’ you wouldn’t be wearing anything under this little thing.” He said, gesturing to your now-soaked dress.

Your hands push the dripping hair in your face back, finally seeing Daryl clearly, before moving them to run against Daryl’s clean shoulders.

His hands pulled the straps down your arms, revealing your tits. His big, calloused hand groped one of them, deepening the kiss as his cock throbbed. You could feel him pressed against your bare skin, dress dripping cold water down your standing leg making you shiver.

His thumb began to rub against your clit as he began to slide his cock inside of your already aroused cunt, quietly whimpering as his lips trail to your neck and bites the tender skin. He wasted no time fucking into you, his cock gently hitting your cervix, causing butterflies to erupt in your belly.

“I missed this pussy while I was gone. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout’ it.” He was out of breath, each thrust of his hips getting rougher, he physically couldn't slow down, he was too entranced by your hips bucking against his, groaning as he got close to an orgasm. Your moans grew louder as you were on the cusp of your own orgasm, uncontrollably clenching around him, when he suddenly gripped your waist so tightly that there would probably be bruises tomorrow.

He used you, so close to his orgasm that if you clenched him one more time, he would release.

And so, you did.

Your orgasm followed shortly after his, holding him as closely as you could. Even after he pulled out, he still held onto you, heavy breaths huffed on your shoulder.

“Could ya’ pass me the shampoo now?”

[g00d--m0urning]

Unnamed Pt. 1 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader)

Part two

This is my first time writing in a long ass time, so please, feel free to leave criticism.

word count: 3208

Summary: ex-cop!Reader's world is rocked thrice over when Daryl Dixon breaks up with them, they discover their pregnant and the world goes to shit in the span of a few months. A/N: this is gender neutral, no other pronouns but you/your used. Reader is obviously AFAB since they get pregnant. Also this first part is hella slow. Basically just getting background out of the way. No y/n used. (No smut, angst? IDFK)

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Being a cop whilst dating a criminal is… well, interesting, to say the least. And in both of your defenses, Daryl’s not, like, a murder or anything, just petty theft and trespassing and the occasional assault charge (they never go further than a slight fine, it’s a small town in Georgia, nobody gives two fucks). The problem is the eldest Dixon--Merle, the GD bane of your existence--the dumbass is constantly dragging Daryl into his shit (drugs, to be clear) and the youngest refuses to stop riding along with him. No matter how hard you try, therefore, it's a constant point in arguments; much like this one.

“You can tell him no!” you shout exasperatedly, for probably the millionth time tonight.

The ‘him’ in question is Merle Dixon, and the needed ‘no’ is Daryl refusing to ride along to one of his drug crusades. You weren’t even supposed to know about this run, Daryl kept that part of his life separate, per your request, keeping from having to turn either Dixon in, as your academy oath swore. However, the FBI had gotten wind of this trade--something about some cartel being included--and they started sniffing around in search of making a bust and you really didn’t need your boyfriend in federal prison for being associated with that.

“Nah, I can’t!” Daryl shouts right back, smacking his hand against the shitty, peeling folding table he calls a dining table.

This has been going on for probably almost an hour now; you push, he pulls and it just turns into a vicious circle. It had started as an earnest plea, asking him kindly not to go on this run and he just scoffed, continuing to scarf down the three-day-old leftovers you heated up. Now it’s this screaming match, one you’re both tired of. You go to open your mouth to ask why, but he raises a hand, cutting you off like he can read your mind (he can’t, you’ve just had this same argument so many times, you can predict the exact words to come out of each other’s mouth).

“He’s family, been there for me mah whole life,” he hasn’t, he’s been in and out of jail his whole life, but ok. “Least I can do ‘s be there for a simple run, done it a thousand times.”

You just groan in response, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pace, just trying to figure out what to say. How to change his mind. There’s a simple answer, you can’t; if there’s one thing you learnt almost immediately in this relationship is that once the Dixon mind is made up, it’s made up.

“What?” he barks, clearly annoyed by your annoyance.

“Nothing, D.” you mutter, shaking your head at this whole situation.

He huffs at that, knowing it’s not ‘nothing,’ but not wanting to know what it truly is, it’d just stoke the fire. Being the pouty baby he is, Daryl plops into a folding chair, the old hinges creaking at the intense weight add, crossing his arms over his chest. If you weren’t so mad, you’d find the scowl on his face and the way his muscles bulge attractive. A loaded silence falls over the two of you; the neighbor’s dog barks at something, presumably the car that can be heard driving across the old gravel road, a door slams, and cicadas chirp, having come back to enjoy the southern summer heat.

“You know what? No--” you set your hands on the table, putting a stop to your pacing as you look over at Daryl, something indiscernible clouding your face.

“What’re ya--” he starts, sitting up in the chair, cutting himself off as you butt in before he can finish.

“It’s not nothing, Dixon. This--” a quick gesture to the air between the two of you, “isn’t ‘nothing.’ You insisting on going on your idiot brother’s crusades isn’t ‘nothing.’ And I get that he’s family, I do, but you shouldn’t have to throw your life away to repay whatever debt you think you owe him for sticking around!”

You’re the one to get cut off this time, being silenced as he scoffs, abruptly standing up from his chair, anger evident on his face, maybe even a hint of betrayal if you looked real close.

“Fuck that’s supposed ta’ mean?” he asks, brows furrowing as he steps closer to you.

“What’s what supposed to mean?” you ask back, confused by his sudden reaction. You didn’t think you said anything wrong, just expressed a very correct opinion.

“Ya think ‘m throwing mah life away?--ain’t like I got much ahead of me, right? Not like you do, right?” he puts extra emphasis on that last right, rounding the table to stand in front of you.

Another constant topic brought up in arguments--him thinking he’s got no life ahead of him other than ending up dead or deadbeat like his parents and you, having been dealt a much better card of hands in life, having much more planned for you. No matter how much you tried to convince him he could do so much more than be a lackey for his shithead brother, he denies and you guys end up ignoring each other for days until one of you cracks.

“Well, newsflash, all of us ain’t got some shiny future waitin’ for us. Some of us got a life being a ‘lackey’ or whateva you said, fancy pants. And ‘m sorry if that ain’t good enough for ya.’” he states, invading your space inch by inch as he mocks your words.

“That’s not--that’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant!” you stammer, panic slowly beginning to boil beneath the anger. If you thought he, or his family situation, or anything about him, wasn’t good enough for him you wouldn’t have put in the almost two years being his friend and another two and a half dating his stubborn ass. He continues his encroachment until you’re toe to toe,

“Sure as hell sounded like it’s whatcha meant,” he snarls, rubbing at the scruff he has yet to shave before straightening his posture, looking away for a moment. He sucks at his teeth, huffing before he looks straight at you, something you can’t make out clouding his face, “I think you should leave.”

Your face falls, tears slowly welling in your eyes as the words leave his mouth. He’s not kidding, nor was it some sort of freudian slip, he wants you out. It seems different this time, too; not some enraged get out that gets resolved with rough make up sex, or the more tearful one that usually ends with sobbing in each other's arms.

This, this is different. He doesn’t look angry, there’s no tears clawing their way through his stubborn ducts, he’s just… blank. No emotion, other than that stubborn Dixon resolution. This feels like a breakup.

“Fine, I’ll leave.” you huff, taking in a shaky breath as you turn on your heel to make the short trek to the front door. Shoes are haphazardly shoved on, the tongue stuck under your foot and laces shoved in, and your phone and keys shoved into a pocket as you head out the door, slamming the screen door shut behind you.

You don’t bother looking back, not wanting to risk the tears falling, until you hear the broken door of the Dixon trailer jimmied shut. A few tears slip from your eyes, angrily swiping at the wet streaks before continuing down the ‘driveway’ to your car.

Maybe if you stayed inside another minute you could’ve seen the tears glassing over Daryl’s eyes. Or maybe if you stayed outside another minute you would’ve heard the sound of another hole being punched into the wall of the Dixon trailer that continues out of sight as you drive away.

A few days pass by, no contact between you two, letting each other cool down; at least you thought. It’s about a week before you try talking to him the first time, having stopped by the car shop he works at to bring him lunch (a BLT from the greasy dinner, the one next to the even greasier motel near the edge of town). The only response you got was a sideways glare before he huffed and returned to fixing the neighbor’s old pick up, leaving you to put his sandwich on his toolbox and walk back to the station.

Another three days pass before you try again, approaching him in the rundown bar, but again, he ignores you, turning away and slipping into the crowd Merle had gathered. You don’t want to be desperate, but you try calling him a few times, no response to all four calls. As a week turns to two and two to three, your attempts become less and less often.

Around week four is when you got the letter; your application to attend the new agent training for the FBI has been approved. Holy-fucking-shit. You read the letter over and over until the words turn to blurry specks you can no longer decipher and that’s when the nausea kicks in, heaving into the bushes by your mailbox. You write it off as stress sickness, between your breakup and now this; I mean, it’s a big deal, going from beat cop in bumfuck Georgia to a possible FBI agent in Virginia.

You wait on the decision, debating if you want to uproot the life you’ve set up here, getting sick a few more times in the process. You try calling Daryl after a few days of thinking to no avail as he doesn’t answer; that helps you make your decision, handing in your badge the next day and spending the last few days of the week packing your stuff into a u-haul.

You stand on the last step of your shitty porch, staring at the even shittier two room house you’ve called home for the last five years, tears welling in your eyes as you think back to the memories. They’re not all good, not all bad either, and the longer you stand there the more you regret your decision, so you wipe away the few tears that slipped down your cheeks and turn away.

Away from the house, down the step and down the uneven pavement you call a driveway and to your car. You open the door of your baby (a lovely ‘69 Chevy Impala you got from an old lady a few years back), taking one more look back before sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car: starting your new life.

Settling into your new apartment in Virginia wasn’t as hard as you thought it was going to be; honestly it was a breeze. The whole move was a breath of fresh air, it's nice being in a city where you don’t have to worry about everyone knowing everything about you. The only bad part is you still feel like crap--physically, not mentally, or not really--you’ll have to find a doctor soon anyway, the FBI academy requires your health records and you do not remember the last time you had your shots.

It’s about a week before the academy starts, so you decide it’s time to get to the hospital and get everything checked out. The doctor you booked with seems nice enough when you get there, going through a routine checkup: reflexes, blood pressure, weight, shot records and updates, all that lovely medical stuff.

“So, dear, I’m all done, unless you have any concerns of your own?” the doctor asks, tapping a manicured nail against her desktop as she looks up at you through thin framed glasses.

“Uh, yeah, actually, these past few weeks I’ve felt pretty nauseous. I don’t think it’s anything, just the stress from my move and all, but I wanted to make sure before I started work.” you tell her, a faint blush painting your cheeks under her gaze; normally you could never admit something like that, not without it getting out and people forming all sorts of conspiracies.

“Hm… Well, you’re healthy as a horse, so you’re probably not sick. It most likely is the stress.” she tells you, standing up, her heels tapping as she moves in front of you, red painted lips pursing in a thin line, “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

“W-what? No. No, there’s absolutely no way I could be preg--” you stammer, trailing off as you think back to about two months ago. You and Daryl had been drunk off your asses, desperate, sloppy..

“Here, the bathrooms down the hall and to the left.” she hands you a pregnancy test with a chuckle, clearly oblivious to your inner panic. “And don’t worry, this kind of thing happens all the time.”

You have to hold back the urge to glare at her when you get up from the chair, annoying hospital paper crinkling beneath you. How can she just play this off like it’s nothing? It’s not nothing, you could be pregnant! This could fuck everything up, you can’t attend FBI academy whilst pregnant.

Squatting awkwardly over the toilet so you can piss on the stick while simultaneously managing not to miss the bowl, you hum to yourself as you actively avoid meeting your own gaze in the awkwardly placed full length mirror. You finish, quickly tossing the pee-stick into the sink and deal with the rest of your business before pacing the bathroom as you wait the longest three minutes of your life.

Your phone is in and out of your pocket, continually checking the time until three minutes have finally passed; thank god. You grab a paper towel, reach in the sink and grab the test, trying to find the courage to look at the results. Before you can psych yourself out you look, your heart sinking as you stare at the two pink lines glaring up at you.

You feel sick, you are sick, apparently; there’s a full ass human growing in you. As you gag over the toilet the doctor knocks on the door, slowly pushing it open. An apparent sympathetic expression reading her brows as she moves to gently rub your back. She sits with you until your stomach is emptied, the only thing falling into the toilet being tears.

“It’ll be ok, honey, it will. No matter what you decide.” she tells you as you both exit the bathroom, having spent a good ten minutes sitting on the floor dreading the future. You haven’t a clue what she means by ‘no matter what you decide’ until she passes you a pamphlet for an abortion clinic, offering you a pity smile as you leave the room.

The rest of the day is a blur, between swinging moods between rage and depression it’s hard to keep track of when what happened. You can’t go back to Georgia, you don’t want to go back to Georgia, but what’s going to happen? You know absolutely nobody and your plans have been utterly fucked. So, what? Get rid of the kid? Maybe? No. Maybe… No. Just get a job, raise a kid, yep, sure; this has to be the worst thing ever.

Surprisingly the next month of pregnancy isn’t horrible, you snagged a desk job at the local police department, and you’ve been setting roots down. The doctor--Lillian, you learn, the doctor from before--has been a big help, a friend, you’d consider her; she has a kid of her own with her wife and has been coaching you through your first trimester of growing an unnamed fetus growing within you.

You’re sitting pretty in your OB/GYN’s office, waiting for her to come in and do your four month ultrasound and tell you the gender, which you hope is some because if you have to listen to anymore of the incessant drone of the news anchor you might go insane.

Finally she walks in, all chipper smiles and pink gloves as she wheels the ultrasound machine in behind her. The gel is cold, making you hiss as it’s smeared across your stomach, the tech chuckling at the reaction.

“Do you have any names picked out yet?” she asks, getting the machine all kicked up and ready. She tuts playfully, as you shake your head no, waving a hand through the air. “Well, no pressure, I had a friend who didn’t pick a name until her kid was crowning.”

You cringe at that, finding it to be way too much information; if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that you’re getting a c-section. Natural birth seems scary as shit.

“Are you excited to find out the gender?” is the next question asked as she drags the transducer across your stomach, trying to pinpoint the child. You shake your head again, a ‘yes’ this time.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t have a preference, but I figured knowing the gender would take a little stress off, knowing what to buy and all.” you tell her, pulling a chuckle from both of you. She nods in agreement, cheering quietly as she finally finds the baby.

“In that case, I am happy to tell you that you are having a…” she moves the wand around a little more, squealing happily, seemingly having found the right angle, “girl, it’s a girl! Congrats!” she beams, reaching around to press the print button on the machine.

A sigh leaves your lips as you stare up at the black and white blob that is your baby; a baby girl apparently. Wow. You smile as she hands you the pictures, ‘Congratulations’ scrawled on the bottom of the film.

You can’t seem to find words as the doctor hands you a paper towel to wipe the excess gel off, her head wiggling as she celebrates on your behalf. She busies herself with cleaning everything up as you pull your pants pack on properly, ready to leave the room before something catches your attention.

There’s a red banner rolling at the bottom of the TV, words flashing ‘breaking news.’ You tap the doctor’s shoulder, asking her to turn the volume up on the TV. Her face falls at the sight, nodding as she clicks the volume up several notches.

“Breaking news, multiple reports of a virus outbreak have been recorded in the last several hours. There has been little comment from the government--Wait, one moment please,” is the only thing you manage to hear before a loud and annoying blare emits from the TV, “This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill,” and back to the news guy.

“This just in, cities are going on lockdown, soldiers invading hospitals and the government is advising everybody to stay in their homes. Do not try leaving your city, stay at home or indoors. There has been an outbreak. I repeat--” what the fuck? You listen to the spiel again, trying to wrap your head around what he’s saying.

A nurse rushes in, ushering you out of the room and out the front door, bidding you good luck. There’s already panic starting in the streets; people are flooding stores and cars jamming the streets.

You know how you said being pregnant was the worst thing ever? Scratch that.

[cliodevotus]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ (STEP) DADDY

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 notas: I THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER, JUST A LITTLE BIT COLDER- honestamente, isso é resultado da minha reassistida de TWD em união com o meu período fértil e o meu tesão por ter me divertido um pouquinho hoje na faculdade. Eu escrevi essa "fanfic" (se é que podemos chamar assim) no ônibus enquanto ouvia Lana del Rey, e vocês que me perdoem pela vergonha alheia porque tá complicado. Nem criei sinopse de tão surtada que eu tô. Primeira vez escrevendo um smut, então é... serei corajosa e orgulhosa das loucuras do meu período fértil e não apagarei esse post se eu sentir vergonha da existência dele.

Aliás, a história não tem um personagem definitivo para o padrasto, eu imaginei o Shane e o Negan, principalmente, mas o Rick e o Daryl também estavam na minha cabeça enquanto eu escrevia porque eu sou uma cadela safada... Então você decide quem vai ser. Enfim, benzinhos, aproveitem <3

— AVISOS: AFAB!reader virgem, stepcest (padrasto x enteada), diferença de idade grande (leitora tem 19 anos, quase 20 porque eu tenho 19 quase 20, enquanto o padrasto tem em torno de 45-50 anos), pornô curto com um pseudo-plot, escrita podre de história feita na pressa e provavelmente muitos erros ortográficos. POR FAVOR NÃO BRIGUEM COMIGO, LEIAM APENAS SE QUISEREM E SE SENTIREM CONFORTÁVEIS!!!!!

— PALAVRAS: 1551

#☆ masterlist. | regras.

꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦

O casamento da sua mãe com seu pai ruiu aos poucos. Primeiro, os comentários maldosos que faziam um ao outro com o único objetivo de se magoarem, aí então vieram as ofensas de verdade e logo, a simples menção do outro ou a possibilidade de passar um tempo juntos era o suficiente para arruinar o clima bom da casa. E então vieram as brigas, os gritos e as discussões que eram intermináveis e machucavam os seus ouvidos, que era a única que ainda morava com eles.

Teve a maldição de ser a filha mais nova da família, a caçula princesinha que nasceu 11 anos depois do primogênito e 9 anos depois do segundo filho, que ficou na fazenda com os pais enquanto não decidia o que fazer da vida e qual faculdade e curso seguir. Os seus pais não te julgaram, na verdade, eles apoiaram essa decisão. O seu irmão mais velho, William, saiu de casa rapidinho, e o irmão do meio, Seann, xispou assim que arrumou uma namorada. Você achava que era maldade deles quererem se afastar dos seus pais e irem para longe das responsabilidades da fazenda e tudo mais, mas conforme você crescia e começava a ver os seus pais como eles eram de verdade, você meio que entendeu (e muito) que espertos mesmos eram eles por quererem se afastar daquele inferno. As vezes, acordava de madrugada com os gritos da sua mãe e do seu pai, o barulho de coisas quebrando e, no fim, o choro da sua mãe enquanto o seu pai a consolava. As vezes até ouvia eles fazendo sexo de reconciliação e não tinha som mais infernal do que aquele. Você gostava da fazenda, de verdade, e não queria ir para longe dela, mas naquele ritmo, você estava prestes a escolher um curso qualquer só para se mandar de casa.

Mas então, a traição do seu pai foi a gota d'água, o último prego do caixão que selou de vez o relacionamento desgastado deles. O divórcio foi conturbado, sua mãe te mandou para morar com William até que tudo estivesse pronto e, após longos 4 meses, você logo voltou para casa. Sem o seu pai por perto.

A paz chegava a ser incômoda. Não ouvia mais comentários maldosos, discussões, gritos e nem o barulho deles fazendo sexo de reconciliação. Sua mãe chegou até mesmo a se aproximar de você nesse período de um ano que vocês moraram juntas. Viraram praticamente melhores amigas, cuidando da fazenda juntas e passando os dias grudadas, assistindo séries, ouvindo música e dançando, cozinhando juntas e até mesmo tendo as conversas sensíveis da madrugada acerca das situações delicadas que envolviam as duas. Geralmente, falavam mais dela do que de você. Foi você quem incentivou ela a tentar de novo encontrar amor, que seu pai não era e nem tinha que ser o único homem da vida dela, que ela era ainda bonita e jovial, que podia arrumar qualquer homem que quisesse. Foi você quem incentivou ela. Foi você! Então não adiantava de nada ficar choramingando quando ela arrumou aquele cara e, em menos de 6 meses de relacionamento, já foram morar juntos.

A casa já não era mais a mesma, não tinha mais aquele conforto e familiaridade que você tinha construído com a sua mãe há alguns meses. Agora, tinha aquele cheiro de perfume masculino e as cuecas dele penduradas no varal. Tinha que ouvir a risada grossa e rouca dele sempre que ele achava algo engraçado na TV, sentado no seu sofá nos pijamas toscos dele enquanto segurava uma garrafa de cerveja, abraçado com sua mãe. Estava ficando frustrada, queria terminar de assistir as séries que assistia com sua mãe e não conseguia nunca tempo com ela por causa da droga do namorado dela, que vivia grudado nela. Estava feliz por ela, de verdade. Você jurava a Deus que estava extremamente feliz que sua mãe tinha superado o bosta do seu pai e encontrado alguém quase da idade dela para ficar com ela e que gostava dela de verdade. Você jurava! Mas meu Deus, tinha que ser ele?!

Talvez fosse a imaturidade de garota de 19 anos falando mais alto, mas você esperava muito que aquele sentimento desaparecesse. De verdade. Queria muito que as borboletas que faziam a festa na sua barriga sempre que você fazia contato visual com o seu padrasto fossem apenas resultado de uma paixãozinha idiota de adolescente. Você logo teria 20 anos, faltava menos de um mês para o seu aniversário, e não podia mais ficar envergonhada de ver o seu padrasto só de samba canção pela manhã na cozinha, enquanto bebericava um café fresco. Tampouco deveria sorrir quando pegava ele te encarando fazendo os trabalhos da fazenda ou tomando sol na grama. Pior ainda, se sentia orgulhosa quando via as reações dele quando você usava uma roupa mais curta e ousada, expondo mais do seu corpo. Ou quando se inclinaca na frente dele e deixava os seios maduros a mostra. Ou ainda quando empinava a bunda e provocava, a popa da bunda marcando presença, quem sabe até a calcinha (ou a falta dela) sendo exposta para ele. Ele sempre limpava a garganta e você podia jurar que, apesar da mexida desconfortável na cadeira, provavelmente por causa do aperto nas calças, ele tinha um sorriso sacana no rosto.

O mesmo sorriso sacana que ele mantinha na cara quando te prensava por trás no balcão da cozinha, agarrando e explorando seu corpo com as mãos grandes e calejadas, não deixando nenhum pedacinho dele intocado. E então aquela barba vinha por trás, raspando na sua bochecha e no seu pescoço e você lutava contra a necessidade de rir por causas das cócegas ao mesmo tempo em que tinha que se segurar para não deixar os arfares ficarem muito altos. Ele te beijava fervoroso, as mãos segurando os seios, apertando a carne, enquanto te tirava o fôlego do corpo. Nem lembrava como tinham acabado naquela posição, uma discussão boba sobre o jantar que levou a você dizendo que ele não era seu pai e nunca seria. Sua mãe estava com dor de cabeça e tinha ido se deitar mais cedo, e devido aos remédios, apagou na cama e só acordaria no dia seguinte. Foi perfeito para ele dar o bote em você, que há tantos meses testava ele e ficava por aí que nem uma putinha provocando ele. A mão direita agarrou o pescoço para facilitar os beijos e a mão esquerda se ocupou de segurar o seu quadril, empurrando para trás, de encontro a pélvis dele. Ele estava duro, dava para sentir facilmente pelo tecido fino da calça de pijama dele.

— Viu só o que você faz comigo? Eu fiquei assim por sua causa, me provocando, usando aquelas roupinhas curtas e empinando essa bunda gostosa para mim que nem uma putinha. Até esses peitos você fez questão de ficar mostrando por aí. — A mão saiu do pescoço e apertou os peitos de novo. Dessa vez, se ocupou de beliscar um dos mamilos por cima do tecido do seu pijama curto. Você gemeu e pode sentir o sorriso sacana na sua bochecha de novo, e ele aproveitou para deixar um beijo estalado nela. — Tá gostoso, princesa? Quer mais, hm? Quer que o papai foda essa bucetinha virgem?

Você já nem pensava direito no que ele falava quando ele estava se enterrando fundo na sua bucetinha apertadinha e melada, só sabia gemer e arfar que nem uma putinha. Ele ficava só repetindo o apelido e, nesse ponto, você estava começando a acreditar nele. As suas pernas já estavam bambas, e só não desabava no chão por causa do aperto dele no seu quadril. O impacto dos quadris ecoava em um som pornográfico, os gemidos e choramingos que saiam da sua boca e os grunhidos e gemidos abafados pelos lábios mordidos dele, presos na garganta, formavam uma sinfonia deliciosa. De vez em quando, o pensamento da sua mãe acordando e pegando os dois invadia a sua cabeça e você se sentia mal por estar com a buceta apertando o pau do namorado dela, mas ao mesmo tempo, o pensamento te excitava demais. O seu padrasto grunhia e sorria sempre que sentia você apertando ele.

— Tá pensando no que, meu bem? Tá pensando na sua mamãe descendo aqui e pegando nós dois juntos? — Você gemeu e ele riu. — Espero que ela pegue, só para ela descobrir a vadia safada que é a filha dela. — E deu um tapão na sua bunda, fazendo você arquear as costas e empurrar o quadril para trás com mais forças, apertando ainda mais a bucetinha. — Isso, amorzinho, desse jeito. Continua. — Ele abraçou seus corpos, suas unhas arranhando o balcão de madeira enquanto o corpo era violentamente fudido pelo homem. — O lado bom de bucetinha virgem é esse: você pode moldar ela pro seu pau. — Ele sorriu. — Você vai deixar o papai te fuder toda noite, né, meu bem? Toda noite o papai vai ir no seu quarto e te comer bem gostosinho, sem a sua mãe saber, pode ser?

Você concordava com a cabeça desesperada, lágrimas descendo dos olhos enquanto gemia desesperada, procurando por mais contato. — Sim! Sim! Sim!

Ele deu outro tapão na sua bunda. — "Sim" o quê?

— Sim, papai! Sim!

Ele sorriu, te beijando de novo. — Boa menina. — Agarrou os quadris e murmurou. — Agora goza gostoso pro papai.

[limereance]

DARYL DIXON — his imagination

daryl dixon x afab gender neutral reader

nsfw, fluff

wc: 412

summary: you called him a pretty boy and that's simply too much for his heart, and body, to handle.

era: season four, pre-governor arc two

author note: i'm reposting my old works after editing and revising them so i hope this is better :)

warnings: moaning, his lewd and perverted fantasies, edging, submissive? daryl

daryl tightened his grip on his cock at the thought of you, little whines threatening to escape his trembling lips. he had been going at this for nearly a half hour, cruelly edging himself on the lower bunk of your shared prison cell. he couldn’t help himself. not when you teasingly flirted with him so frequently. at this point, he wasn’t even sure you were aware of it. perhaps you were just friendly and flirtatious with everybody. but whenever you complimented the way his hair framed his worn face or whenever you looked at him with such soft eyes, he often found his pants tightening.

it happened again today. you called him a pretty boy, unknowingly stirring these fervid feelings again. It was torture for him, having always to sneak away to touch himself in ways he could only dream you would. he’d softly rub at his throbbing tip, teasing himself beyond a torturous ache. and then, only when his tip drooled with precum, would he finally give in and pump his cock the way his body begged him to.

he imagined your warm breasts bouncing as he made sickeningly sweet love to you. he dribbled more precum onto his happy trail as he thought about your wet juices coating his cock. he instinctively bucked his hips up into his calloused fist, imagining getting to watch as your tight walls swallowed and clenched around him. he melted at the imagined whimpers you would make from him circling your clit in tight circles. he imagined the soft, breathy warning of your approaching orgasm. one more throb as he imagined the way you would throw your head back in pleasure, riding out your orgasm, uncontrollably clenching around him.

that.

that threw him over the edge, clouding his vision in a thick haze. his whole body convulsed as thick white ropes jumped from his twitching girth. desperate dirty nails clawed at thin, cotton bedsheets, searching for anything to brace himself with. shallow breaths came left his dry, cracked lips erratically, calming the euphoria. a warmer flood of blood rushed to his cheeks. and now came the embarrassment.

he knew he couldn’t have you, yet he still imagined you in all of the lewd, perverted ways he had. and if you ever knew, you wouldn’t speak to him again. throwing an exhausted and sore arm over his head, he tried to ignore the rising guilt that would scold him for the rest of the humid night.

[aliidarling]

who i write for :) + masterlist

who i write for

- resident evil

- star wars

- the walking dead

- batverse

- ghostfaces

- dead by daylight killers

- slashers (80s, 90s, 2000s)

- fairy tail

- jujutsu kaisen

- james sunderland , pyrmaid head

i won’t write ageplay, incest, scat or piss kinks or wound fucking please! yandere, dubcon/cnc, knife play, and dark content is welcome. non con is a line i’d rather not cross unless it fits the character or fic !

i prefer AFAB cuz i’m a girl and i only know female anatomy lol

master list..

kinktober!! >;)

cosplay w/danny johnson

danny johnson

he hit me and it felt like a kiss nsfw

danny chases u down towards the end of the trial and corners you in lampkin house, decides to have a little fun w u

dark paradise nsfw

you’re spawned into the trial in tiny pajamas for the new event, and your favorite killer very much likes your outfit hehe

camera shy nsfw

danny is stalking you and breaks in when he sees you using a toy on yourself

danny hc’s with friendly survivor reader nsfw/sfw

danny with cold reader sfw

heavy metal lover nsfw

you’re very annoying and try to throw hands w danny, resulting in him having revenge

im preying on you tonight nsfw

you have bad experience with these scare actors

love potions nsfw

danny falls in love with you at first sight and grows an obsession.

crybaby nsfw

danny is very mean during naughty time, but he always patches you up afterwards!

cuddling with danny :3 sfw

kisses w/danny !! sfw

rick grimes

the less i know the better pt. 1 pt. 2 nsfw

you’re a savior taken hostage by rick and daryl and they decide to make u their little slut

using you nsfw

rick takes his anger out on you after lori's death because he's a self projecting loser and wants u really bad

i need to purge my urges, shame shame shame pt. 1 pt. 2 nsfw

you get taken by the CRM by total coincidence and reunite with your lover who you haven’t seen in years, only to find out he’s only a fragment of the man he used to be

say yes to heaven sfw

nurse reader with silly rick

daryl dixon

the less i know the better pt. 1 pt. 2 nsfw

you’re a savior taken hostage by rick and daryl and they decide to make u their little slut

snowfall nsfw

you and daryl are out on a run when the temperature drops to freezing

gojo satoru

poly headcanons w gojo and geto sfw + nsfw

yandere!gojo x fem!reader sfw / dark?

one night stand a yandere!gojo nsfw

micheal myers

enjoy the silence nsfw

he breaks into the house you’re babysitting

ethan landry

make you mine nsfw

you have a study date with ethan and walk in on him in his ghostface robe.

subby ethan nsfw

albert wesker

the beach nsfw

you spawn into trial wearing a swimming suit!

[wingedtrash]

Rick Grimes x Reader

Rick gets busy and accidentally starts neglecting your relationship.

||CW|| None really, just fluff, a little angst mention of cheating (it doesn’t actually happen Ricks a loyal lover)

AFAB/GN reader, reader has no mentioned gender

Rick had been really busy, going on runs, making plans, running Alexandria. Just doing typical leader stuff.

Him doing all of that left barely any time for your relationship, and that was starting to upset you.

At first you tried ignoring it. You understood that he had important things to do, especially to keep everything going and keep everyone alive.

But it was getting to the point that you saw him for (if you were lucky) maximum 30 minutes a day.

He had stopped coming to bed even when he was in Alexandria, always opting to sleep where the planning was going on, or the jobs were located so he was closer and able to be alert.

This started worrying you, the ideas of him cheating started crossing your mind. It was stupid to even think that he would do such a thing, you knew that. Rick was a loyal, trustworthy man, but he still wasn’t putting very much into your relationship at the moment.

You were angry, but you knew you needed to talk to him. You didn’t know when you would be able to do that, or how you would do it without letting your emotions get the best of you.

A couple of days later, you heard the front door open and close, and heavy footsteps walk in. At first you thought it was Daryl who had been in and out of the house for the last couple of days, getting his gear ready for a run, but you soon recognized them to be Ricks.

You were standing at the kitchen island cutting vegetables for a stew Carol was planning on making for dinner.

Rick saw you as soon as he walked in, walking over to you to greet you. “Hey, darlin’.” He mumbled, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You sound tired.” You said plainly, continuing to cut the vegetables.

“You mad at me?” He asked, loosening his arms around you.

“No-” you paused. Your whole body tensing up beneath his arms.

“Really?” He questioned, and it felt like he knew you were, and why you were.

This made you feel like you had to tell him now. So you did.

“Maybe.” You continued your movements of chopping the vegetables.

“Why darlin’?” He asked calmly, reaching up to rub at your shoulders.

“You’ve been gone for weeks. You haven’t been to bed in what’s felt like forever and you’ve barely spoken to me Rick! I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing!” You shout the last sentence out of frustration, dropping the knife onto the cutting board.

"I'm sorry darlin'. I know I've been all over the place recently. Everyone’s always needin’ somethin’ and you know how that goes.” He says, squeezing his arms tighter around you again.

“You could’ve at least came by and updated me on whatever was going on.” You replied, unraveling his arms from you and turning to look at him.

He could see how much it bothered you. Your eyes conveying your emotions more than you would’ve liked them to.

“C‘mere.” He said, grabbing your wrists and guiding you away from the kitchen island. He guided you up the stairs and to your shared bedroom.

“What Rick?” You asked, not knowing exactly what he was getting at. He had turned away from you digging in his side of the dresser.

“Put this on.” He said, suddenly throwing one of his shirts at you.

“Why?” You asked, looking at him confused.

“Just do it.” He responded, pulling out a pair of his sweats.

So you did, when you finished putting on his shirt, you realized he had changed out of his day clothes and into something he would normally sleep in, that being just a pair of sweats and no shirt.

He climbed into the bed, and motioned for you to come over.

“Rick what’re you doing?” You asked again.

“What does it look like sweetheart? I’m tryin’ to make up for missed time.” He responded. “I’m exhausted from the last few weeks, I just wanna hold you.” He added, now doing grabby hands towards you since you hadn’t come over when he motioned.

You finally walked over and joined him, climbing into the bed beside him.

When you did he quickly wrapped his arms around your figure and pulled you into his arms.

You immediately loosened up at the contact, melting into it.

“I missed you, missed this.” He mumbled, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“I did too, but you realize I’m supposed to be getting to veggies ready for Carol right now, right?” You responded pulling away to look at his face.

“They looked ready to me.” He responded with a shrug.

“Well they weren’t, so if she yells at me you’re going to have to save me.” You laugh.

“I will don’t worry.” He responds closing his eyes.

You watched him doze off, he was always handsome in this peaceful state. As time went on you fell asleep shortly after.

This apology still wasn’t exactly enough and he knew that. He was just saving the rest of his apology for when he wasn’t as tired wink wink.

(Part 2 perhaps for the rest of the apology?)

[sundrop-writes]

Announcing my new fic: Heaven's Gate

Heaven's Gate is a long oneshot starring Daryl Dixon and a gender neutral reader character, featuring angst, hurt and comfort, and some fluff.

NOW POSTED!!!!!

In this fic, you and Daryl get separated when the prison is attacked by the Governor, and though you both believe the other person is dead, you two end up finding each other at the most unexpected time. This fic is about hope, the human connection, and how love is about more than romance - it's about how people take pieces of each other and grow with them, never truly able to forget each other.

This fic is going to be a longer oneshot that is currently about 15k long - and will likely be longer by the time it has gone through editing. It is 80% of the way done in my drafts (not including editing), and I hope to have it posted by April 30th - which is a tentative date that may change. If you want to know for certain when the fic is posted, you can follow me here and turn on notifcations or you can subscribe to me on AO3 to get an email notification when the fic is posted. I am really excited to share this fic with all of you 💖.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you wanna get a better sense for the upcoming fic you can read it. If you enjoy this preview and you're excited for what the fic holds, please let me know!

Also an important note: with my gender neutral reader fics, I don't use any references to gender whatsoever (this is not a 'GN afab' fic). And in this fic in particular, I didn't use any pronouns (other than you/yours) or gendered terms for the reader - and at points where the terms they/them were used, I made it purposefully vague so that the dialogue could be referring to the whole group as 'they' or just the reader. I want my gender neutral fics to be enjoyed by everyone - cis women, cis men, gender non conforming people, trans people - every kind of fanfiction reader.

I am making this post for two major reasons - one, I want to generate as much excitement for oneshots as there is for series. Especially for oneshots that are longer than 10k because those take a lot of time and effort. If a series is like a TV show, then long oneshots are like a feature film. And two - nobody seems to read my pinned post where I announce new upcoming fics anyway, so I might as well make posts like these so that people can know what to expect from me. And hopefully you guys will get excited about my upcoming fics this way. And when I tag these posts with the relevant tags, people interested in those topics can follow me to anticipate the fic if they want to read it.

Heaven's Gate (Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader) - Preview

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: no pronouns used for the reader other than you/yours; there are major plot spoilers for The Walking Dead if you are watching the show for the first time - spoilers for Season 2 all the way up through Season 5; typical warnings for TWD - mentions of death, emotional despair; all of these themes and emotions are expanded upon in the full fic.

...

“Daryl!” 

You called out his name as you jogged up toward the stables, and he stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to catch up with him. 

“Daryl, hey.” You greeted him with a small smile. “Rick told me you’d be up here.” 

He grunted in reply. “Yeah. ‘m gonna take a horse out. Make better ground t’ look for the girl.” 

Your stomach clenched at him mentioning her. 

The group was supposed to be headed out towards Fort Bennet - supposed to be finding refuge at the hopefully safe military base. Instead, you were all setting up camp at the very reluctant Hershel Greene’s farm, not straying too far from where you had lost one of your own in the hopes of finding her. 

But that was why you had come to talk to Daryl in the first place. 

Sophia had become like a sister to you in the few short months that you had known her, and though it was unlikely, you were hopeful that she was alive - that she would be found. And you did believe that Daryl would be the one to find her. 

“How’s the trail?” You asked. “Do you think you know which way she headed? You - you can be honest with me.” 

You hesitated on the last part. But you did want his honesty more than anything. And you knew that he was never one to sugar-coat things. Even if you hadn’t told him that, he would have given you the truth anyway. 

“Trail’s a little muddy.” He said, doling out that honesty. “‘m gon follow the river. It’s her biggest landmark out there, so she’ll probably be somewhere around it.” 

You smiled at him. And then, you remembered - 

“I brought you something.” You noted, reaching for the back pocket of your jeans. 

Daryl watched with quiet curiosity as you pulled out a piece of paper - when you showed it to him, he quickly realized that it was a half-used set of stickers. 

“These are some of the stickers that I got for Sophia,” You explained. “My mom always used to tell me that cardinals are good luck.” 

You peeled off a sticker of a bright red bird - as much of a nature man as he was, Daryl was never one for bird watching. He didn’t care about identifying certain species of birds unless he could shoot and eat them. But he quickly reasoned that this must be the cardinal that you spoke of. 

“Give me your bow.” You said, shoving the rest of the sticker sheet into your back pocket again and holding out your hand expectantly. 

“I don’t need no luck.” He replied, voice full of snark. 

“Just give it.” You replied - equally snarky, equally stubborn. 

Daryl sighed and tugged his bow’s strap over his head, presenting it to you. You placed the sticker on the bow’s handle, in one of the places where it wasn’t as worn down from him holding it. 

“There,” You said, giving it back to him with a smile. “Now you’re all set.” 

It was more for you than it was for him - a token of good faith and protection. The idea that you could do something to bring Sophia home when you felt so powerless. 

Daryl let out a harsh sound - somewhere between a laugh and a sarcastic snort as he walked away. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” You replied brightly, edging on sarcastic once again. 

… 

When the prison was attacked, Daryl got out with Beth. 

He almost couldn’t stand her bright eyes, big eyes staring at him, waiting for answers - her chirpy little voice, prodding at him, demanding that they ‘follow the trail’ and go look for everyone else. Telling him that he was a tracker, that he could find them. As if it was his damn responsibility just because he had the skills to get it done. 

It was all too reminiscent of you, telling him that he could find Sophia. That it wasn’t an ‘if’ - it was a ‘when’. 

Perhaps that was what got him off his ass and doing what he did best - reading the dirt. 

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, staring at the girl curiously as she went to one of the bushes and rushed to pick berries from branches. Had she not gotten enough to eat that morning? 

“They’ll be hungry when we find them.” Beth told him confidently. 

Of course. That undefeatable streak of optimism. 

Daryl knew that blueberries weren’t your favorite - but he should have something to give you. He would be too busy tracking the footprints to properly hunt for squirrels or rabbits and clean them for you. So, he found himself pulling a large bandana from his back pocket and offering it to Beth - something to hold the berries in to keep them safe as an offering for you. 

“Here.” He grunted at her. 

Beth smiled at him. 

It was one of the last smiles she gave him for a long time. 

When they came across those bodies splayed out beside the tracks - any sense of hope was crushed inside of him. The picture you had gifted him was heavy inside his breast pocket, and he hated that tears threatened his eyes - even if he knew that none of those bodies belonged to you. There was no trace of you there. 

The days started to blur into each other, and Daryl couldn’t get you off his mind. 

One hazy evening, as they both stared into the fire with dead looks on their faces, he took the drawing out of his pocket and unfolded it. 

For good luck. 

He didn’t believe in luck - because it didn’t exist. The world was fucked. Nobody was lucky. You and your good luck were dead. 

He tossed the drawing into the fire, and it was only a moment, when the corner of it had barely caught, when Beth snatched it out. She stomped on it with her boot, successfully saving it. 

“Don’t do that.” She hissed at him. 

Daryl snatched it from her, and crumbled it up, tossing it aside. He let out a grunt, but refused to look at her. 

“That was from Y/N, wasn’t it?” She posed. 

He could feel her imposing stare as she waited for an answer. 

He didn’t give her one. 

“You can’t burn them just because you think they’re dead.” Beth sighed. “You can’t burn up memories. We’re gonna find them. Y/N, and Maggie, and Michonne, and - and everyone.” 

Daryl scoffed. “Yeah. Cause that’s gon’ happen.” 

Beth rolled her eyes, but didn’t speak any further on the subject. 

After she had fallen asleep - when the fire was dull, Daryl picked up the crumbled ball and smoothed it out again. The charred corner hadn’t even touched your bird. He felt like a fool doing it, just as much of a fool as he accused you of being, but he folded it neatly - well, as neatly as he could - and then put it back into his breast pocket again. 

But that was the thing - Daryl wished that he could. He wished he could burn up those memories. 

That you would stop haunting him. Then he wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore.

… 

“Can I see it again?” Beth asked, suddenly changing the subject. 

Again, this was a confusing little whip for Daryl - something that clearly only made sense to Beth in her own drunken mind. 

“See what?” Daryl replied. 

“The picture.” Beth answered. “The one you tried to burn.” 

Daryl felt a pinch of guilt surge over him at the thought. Oddly enough, this was the one time he would be willing to admit that Beth was right - you can’t burn up memories. 

“It was Y/N, wasn’t it? That drew it.” Beth added on, her words slurring slightly - she lifted the mason jar of booze to her lips again and Daryl was tempted to snatch it away from her. 

Instead, he found his hand drifting to his breast pocket and reaching to take the picture out. He presented it to Beth, who put down her drink to unfold it - she stared at the picture fondly under the brightness of the moonlight, tracing a finger over the slightly faded details. 

“You know… my daddy used to tell me that a cardinal is like an angel.” Beth said, recognizing the bird from her father’s teachings on the farm. “Someone - someone you loved who passed away, watching over you from heaven.” 

“Y/N said they was good luck.” Daryl replied. 

Beth shrugged. “Same thing.” 

It was this thought that kept Daryl going for a long time. The idea that even if you were dead, you were watching over him somehow. He sure as hell didn’t believe that someone like Merle would be an angel - but you, you definitely were. And even if it was a waste of your eternal life, you would be determined to watch over Daryl - to make sure that he was safe, well-guided. 

You would make sure that he was lucky. 

That thought alone carried him through the long journey to D.C. 

It was something that lingered in his mind as the group hunkered down in a random barn - as he spotted something carved into one of the wooden beams holding the place up. Even though it wasn’t colored, he could have sworn that the long tail and pointed head of the silhouette indicated that the carving was meant to be cardinal. Of course. 

Who knows who had stayed in the barn before them - if it had been left there by a weary traveler, or even put there by someone who had used the barn before the turn. But Daryl could have sworn that you - your ghost, your angelic hand - had led him to this very spot. 

It was a thought that gave him strength as he held the doors up - helped to keep them from caving in while the storm raged outside. 

Your luck, and your damn bird - you would keep him safe. 

When they reached Alexandria, and they were forced to give up their weapons - Daryl spotted your bird perched on the fence. Bright red, with its pointy head cocked sideways at him. All too knowing, staring at him like it wanted to say something. Just like it had been when he had fallen off the cliff out in the woods when he had been looking for Sophia. 

Oddly enough, it made him feel safe giving up his crossbow - perching it on top of the fully loaded cart of weapons before the awkward, bespeckled woman wheeled it away. 

Rick was still weary of this new place after Terminus, and Daryl understood. He followed Rick’s lead. Especially because he couldn’t tell Rick that he had a good feeling about this place because he saw a damn bird. 

But even if it was just in spirit, he felt you there. He knew that it was the home you had chosen for them.

[writella]

Working It Out

Synopsis: The group has been on the road for months— they’re starving, distraught, and frankly, getting sick and tired of each other. After an argument about how to proceed, Rick decides they should split up to take a break from one another. You and Daryl go off into the woods, but what was supposed to be a silent search for food turns into a loud breaking point.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader, afab!reader, before Alexandria era, smut 18+, this takes place in the woods, tiny bit of oral fixation, handjob, fingering, tiny bit of pussy slapping, penetration, getting caught, possibly inexperienced (I wrote it as unconfirmed) or just horny, hasn’t had sex in who knows how long Daryl, reader talks about killing and dying, Daryl and the reader fight, but of course I added a little bit sweetness because how could I not?

A/N: This was not one of the two Daryl fics I’ve been talking about but the idea came to me and I decided to finish this one— hope you like it. ♡

The trees turn into flashing streaks of green and brown with spots of blue from the sky as you try to catch up to Daryl. He was only walking, but his pace had become relentless, it’s almost as if he was running. His brisk strides became larger and faster, not helping your weak and worn down body. Everything feels just a little dizzy and your stomach growls, even Daryl could hear it.

“I would’ve been able to fix that,” he growls back, “if you didn’t make so much fuckin’ noise.” He speaks from the side of his mouth, “That’s the first rabbit we’ve seen in weeks.”

“It wouldn’t have fed all of us anyway.”

“Nothin’s feeding us now.”

“I’m the one who found it!” You snap, “I’m sorry I tripped on a gun. I wasn’t the idiot who decided to leave it there so I could fall and we could all go hungry again for another day.”

“It’s cause you don’t pay attention.” He was talking about your tracking skills: “How long we been at this? Use the trees. Move slow. Walk light.” He speaks under his breath, spitting to the ground, “Bet even a walker knows that.”

Your voice is agitated and angry, “Why are you being so mean today?”

“Why are you acting like such a damn brat?”

“Maybe because we’re homeless!”

You shout louder than you should have, you hear rustlings now, it makes you both raise your weapons.

“Shut up,” Daryl says hushed and slowly. It’s rude, but you know he means it because of possible danger.

After deciding it was probably just another animal you lost out on, you continue, your voice somber, “Or maybe it’s because you don’t talk to me… You never talk to me.”

Your emotions wave from anger and sadness and back again as you sneer, “And I know it’s because you’re just unapologetically yourself, right? And we all just have to take it,” you scoff. “Stoic Daryl, never talks about his feelings so I always have to guess all the time.” You’re shaking your head now, you almost cry out, “You’re not easy to deal with… And I try so hard.”

Daryl’s face remains untouched by your words, but you know better, it’s the way his eyes don’t meet yours, but you still don’t feel like he understands. “You’re like talking to stone… or maybe a walker.” Your words become sharp and biting as you continue to use his reference against him, “Maybe then I can just shoot you in the head and you’d never hear my mouth again. Or maybe walkers really are that much smarter than me and I can just shoot myself, save us both the misery.” Your voice becomes bitter, “Bet you’d like that better.”

He grits his teeth now, his eyes dart venomously, but still they never met your own.

You could tell the last part had to do something to him more than before, his head shakes more hair in front of his face as he looks down, his features grim.

You started to feel bad, knowing that you probably went too hard. It wasn’t a joke to talk about dying, and most certainly not in this world.

You didn’t like when you were the reason to cause Daryl distress, but it also upset you how much of a pull he had on you— your emotions easily shifting with his.

Just as caring as he was, he could also pretend to be equally as unconcerned. It was so easy, yet so hard to love him.

It felt like the beginning of spring when he was warm; like gaining something new and special over and over; like when you said something sweet or silly enough to earn a smile. It felt like every time he used to say “you commin’,'' when getting on his bike at the prison, knowing that you wanted to, knowing that your eyes would linger as he rode to the gate, always waiting until the last second to ask if you could unless he asked first.

But when he was cold, it hurt; like winter in December, like losing something as fast as you got it. You were left guessing at what he was feeling even more than before and never understanding how much space or how much attention to give him to help. You knew it was hard for him to speak, you understood it personally, but it made it harder for you to be there for him when he never at least explained that.

Turning his back on you, Daryl walked forward, leaving you as he went deeper into the woods, and as much as you felt bad for becoming so spiteful, you weren’t done: you walked faster too, turning him around, you pushed his shoulders, you pleaded contentiously, “Say something!” Your grasp on the sides of his arms are firm now, you shake him once, “God, just say something,” one of your hands pounds on your chest, shouting, “just tell me what’s really going on or what happened for once in your life!”

No response. Of course not. Your arms drop defeatedly. His eyes are indignant as yours implore hopelessly.

Your voice starts to crack, “No one’s going to know how you feel or how to be around you if you don’t- just- talk.” Your last word is a final push to him on his shoulders.

Daryl twists your wrists away until they’re down by your sides, and you yank your hands from him.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice becomes more guttural the louder he gets, “That you’re fuckin’ annoying? Always gettin’ on my shit? On the back of my bike? Always right behind me?” His movements are erratic, “You ain’t easy either. You’re always everywhere when you don’t gotta be.”

Your eyes are crestfallen now, but the anger remains.

“Just leave me the fuck alone,” Daryl barks. Pointing a hard finger in your chest as he finishes, “For once in your life!”

“You’ve never told me to not come-”

“I never asked for it neither,”

“-or at least meant it when you said it—you never say no— you even ask me- I- I thought it was okay,”

“Cause you just keep on!” His voice turns low and desolate after, “But I never asked for it. I ain’t never asked for you.”

Your eyes linger on his face for a moment, your glare becoming a sad gaze as you watch the strands of hair that cover it become more sweaty and frizzy from the heat, hiding him more.

“I didn’t ask for you either. You just came one day and… I’m sorry-“ a heat begins to rise in your throat, “I’m sorry that I came back with you. You didn’t have to take me to the prison,” your voice starts to choke up, “I’m sorry that afterwards I- I didn’t want to be away from you.”

Tears began to well in your eyes, but you turn away before the first ones roll, you start walking ahead.

He doesn’t stop you. After a moment he just follows a few feet behind, making it evident he’s still there by allowing his feet to crunch on the leaves.

Even though you’re leading he still doesn’t say no, doesn’t actually let you leave him alone. The fact makes you frustrated, your hands ball up and you can feel your nails digging into your palms. You try to breathe in deeply to stop your weeping, but the more you try the more angry you get. The feelings start to erupt again and every inhale becomes a sniffle as more tears fall.

Daryl stops walking again. More distance is placed in between you two until he says your name.

You end your trek without turning around, “What,” your voice is cross as you wait for a response, but Daryl is already there behind you.

As you face him you try to hold everything in. Barely breathing as you try to stop your crying, but you can’t help but allow another big tear fall as you look at his eyes, so blue and downcast; they look like rain. You forget that they are that color. He’s always squinting.

His thumb wipes the tear that falls on your face and now more starts their way down from your eyelids. When another tear melts as his fingers fall further down your cheek with it, they reach the tip of your lips. He stays there for a moment, the rest of his hand holding your chin.

You look up at him, your eyes so doleful and wide. Daryl’s thumb rubs into your skin only slightly, never moving too far in except to the corners of your lips until you move your head for him. His thumb is sliding against the bottom of your lip now.

You want this to be a pure moment where you kiss him, or truly, where he finally kisses you, and it’s sweet, and tender, and he tells you that he loves you and that he sees how deeply you care for him.

Of course you would simply love for that to be how your first intimate moment with him would go.

But you haven’t eaten, and even as teary eyed as you are, you are furious, he’s so frustrating. You need more. This is not that moment.

As your heart races and your final tears begin to spill and dry, the tip of his thumb continues to brush against your open mouth and you can’t help that your tongue feels compelled to taste it.

Your chin raises as you take his finger in your mouth, letting it slide inside all the way and then you start licking and sucking, feeling the pad of his thumb move from the top of your mouth to your taste buds. It tastes like dirt, you won’t lie, but it’s his.

Daryl says nothing, he only looks on attentively, entranced. He never even suspected you would do something like this. He switches to his pointer finger and uses his thumb to tilt your head up further as you suck on his longer finger. It’s thick, but it’s filthy, you both need a shower, but you don’t care.

You hum lightly on his finger until you release it from your mouth, letting it slide out.

You lick the drool of your lips and he licks his fingers. It’s messy and dirty and you can hear the smacking sounds as he pops the two in his mouth, his eyes looking directly into yours now as he does it. It was only your spit and he wanted to taste it.

You plead, “Daryl please, will you just kiss me-”

And he finally does it. His big hands wrap around your neck and jaw, tilting your face so far upwards as he places his lips to yours with his open mouth. His kisses are immediately chaotic but deep, his wet lips feeling against yours as his tongue works its way inside your mouth.

Your hands wrap around the back sides of his shoulders and you move farther into him. Nothing matters now. You are finally getting to feel him on your lips. This is the man who you have loved since you’ve met him and he’s finally showing you he wants you.

You don’t even care that your group or a walker or a guy with a gun could show up at any point, the thought is terrifying still, but his hands are on your hips now and you’re dying to see if he’ll go lower, you’d probably let him do anything.

You feel his thumbs playing along your lower hip, flicking the start of your jeans as he continues to kiss you, his tongue sliding against yours.

You start to do the same to him, wondering if that will help. Looking up as your fingers linger over the button of his pants, you ask softly, “Is this okay?” He nods and you start to unbutton them, finding it hard to contain your excitement.

“But you don’t gotta-”

“I want to.” You interject. You’re a little embarrassed by how fast you say it, but you still go straight to unzipping his stare, making his jeans hang a bit lower on his hips.

You look up at him, as your hand slowly travels downward. Your hesitancy fades, you’re so desperate to finally touch him, to have this moment. You start palming him through his underwear. His hum is so sultry with its rasp you feel it in your cunt as it pulses. You almost moan when you hear his voice turn into a grunt as you continue and then into a whimper as you dip under the band and start to stroke him. You never thought Daryl would make a sound like that.

He feels so big, so nice and thick in your hand as you continue to pump him. Your thumb plays with the tip of his pre-cum, moving it up his long shaft. You wonder how he would feel inside— if he can even fit inside. The thought makes you pant as you continue to stroke him, continuing to look up at his face, watching his eyes close. You can’t believe you’re finally touching his cock and that you’re the one making him feel good, that he likes your hand around him.

His head rolls back only slightly and he allows you to keep going for a few more moments, and then it seems he’s finally ready. His movements are quick as he pushes you to the ground, kicking off his shoes and then taking off your own.

He takes off your shirt and your pants without thinking, and then he takes off his vest and starts to unbutton his own shirt. His moments slow when he reaches the bottom.

You see the tattoo on his chest peaking through, you know the ones that are on his back, you know what else is there as well. You’ve seen it once, he’s shown you. It was one of your first vulnerable moments together. He did it to make you feel less alone. You two always did that for each other.

“You don’t have to take it off,” you whispered him.

He kisses your lips slowly but shortly and takes it off anyway.

You remind yourself to be gentle if you put your hands on his back later, he looks slightly nervous, but then as he looks at you on the ground, eyes trailing over your body that is only in your underwear, his eyes grow darker as he asks:

“Can I do what I want?”

This makes everything stop. Your mouth is half open, your eyes are lustful, you nod slowly and it makes his dick twitch with how seductive it looks. You didn’t even mean for it to look that way, he’s just so fucking handsome and he just asked for permission to make you his, you can help but gaze at him in a trance. Of course you’d let him have it.

He starts rubbing your through your underwear, watching as your wetness seeps through instantly on the cloth when he touches you lower. He takes them off along with his pants and he leans himself against the nearest tree and pushes your back to his chest, moving one leg over his thigh. He spreads your legs wide and looks over your shoulder.

His hand trails over your pussy. His fingers are tentative as he starts slowly from the top until his finger finally slides over your hole at the bottom and then he pushes in a bit as he feels for the wetness.

Instantly you’re a mess and your wetness starts seeping out, making it easier for him to slide his fingers up and down.

It seems he can’t find where he wants to touch and his wet fingers go everywhere from your hole to the lips to your clit and back down.

“Higher,” you sigh, “please.”

He goes up a little bit starting to rub.

“Higher,” you whine, “mmm… mm- there!” He’s rubbing your clit now, pinching it. “Yes,”

After a little while, his hand travels lower again, now taking two of his fingers and pushing them inside your hole until he can’t anymore. He pushes them in and out of you harshly 5 times until he stops. Circling his fingers inside of you and using his other hand to push your legs further apart, exposing your cunt to the outside air, “If someone comes,” he says in your ear, “they’re going to see you coming first.”

His words turn both of you on even more, making you whine as you feel his hardened dick rub against the side of your ass.

He starts to pump his fingers in you more steadily. Your eyes trail your surroundings, wishing you had picked a more bushier part, you truly were exposed, but then his fingers start to curl as they dig inside you, finding a spongy sweet spot you didn’t even know you had, one Daryl didn’t even try to find, and it makes your eyes shut, your head resting itself back on one of his shoulders as your whine again.

Your hands come to the other side of his neck and chest and you hold on as he goes faster. Daryl allows your hand to make his head go forward so he can look at his fingers thrusting into yours, enjoying the sound of your sopping cunt. His voice is gruff as he groans at the sight, taking his fingers out of you to slap your pussy, twice, watching the wetness bounce, hearing you whimper before putting his fingers back in again.

You hear him make low unintelligible sounds in your ear as he continues to watch. He goes slower, intently looking at how his fingers disappear in you. He takes them out again, “Daryl-” you say sadly.

“Lay down.”

Your elbows are propped up now. He lines himself up with your entrance. His cock looks so fat as he stretches your tiny hole, making it bigger as he pushes in slowly.

The feeling of him going in inch by inch makes you gasp slowly, then it turns into a moan as he bottoms out. Your head falls back on the floor and your eyes close.

He stays there for a moment. Not doing anything, just looking at you, reeling in the sensation of your tight pussy around him.

Your eyes almost open as the wait becomes unbearable, “Are you going to- ah!”

He snaps into you, moving slightly out and back in, it’s a pounding motion. Your body shakes as he continues, going faster and faster. His hands go to the sides of your head as he grunts, looking at how your tits bounce as he continues to thrust.

He sees your head shake, your eyes scrunch, it’s all becoming too much. You’re wincing like it hurts.

He touches your face now, his movements becoming softer and your eyes relax as you look up at him. He comes down to you and kisses you deeply again, just like he did at the start. You allow his lips and tongue to take over completely and you just melt into him as he rocks his hips against yours, you feel so full.

“Would you kiss me like this when we find a new home?” You ask, letting go of his lips.

Daryl meets your eyes, if he could look into yours any deeper, he does. His tone is so low but his words are so sincere, “I’ll kiss you like this anywhere.”

You reach up to take his face in your hands, kissing him lightly, it’s something like clouds. “Would you kiss me like this too?”

He nods, “I’ll kiss you like that.” Looking down he adds, “any way you want.”

Daryl grinds into you again, rolling his hips. The pace slowly gets fast, but it feels more intimate this time. His forehead falls in yours and your back arches and you try to meet his movements.

Daryl started to pant, his sounds gruff until your cunt squeezed so tightly, quaking around one of his thrusts that it made him whimper and he says your name. His noises because inexpressible and your own follows afterwards, ultimately saying, “oh- Daryl- please-”

You’re almost there, you see the outlines of stars, the shine of them almost being filled in, you see the insides of your eyelids getting closer to reaching that glow of bright lights as your body is on the cusp of your climax until-

“Oh-” he laughs to himself quietly, putting his hands low on his hips as he turns only slightly. “Sorry,” Rick says. His smirk is so faint, his jaw even clenches to erase it, but you saw. Immediately when he spoke, your head shot in his direction.

Daryl quickly finds your shirt, putting it over your head and grabs your pants, helping you put them over your feet until you take over so he can put on his own shirt.

Through hooded eyes, Rick had to have seen Daryl’s dick swing as he got up, retrieving his pants and putting them back on as Daryl stared at him.

You look up at Daryl as you get up yourself. His eyes give no details of his surprise to Rick as he finishes buttoning up his shirt. Rick’s eyes are averted, you don’t know what he’s thinking about what he just saw except that he definitely saw it. Never more did you wish to have Daryl’s talent of impassivity, especially in such an exposing scene.

“Well,” Rick starts when you two are finally dressed, “Yeah, so Michonne, Carl, and Judith and I stayed on the roads, we kept walking until we found a car someone left near a tree. They were idiots for driving it in here, big branch fell on it, we got it off but it has a dent. Right when we got it to run we heard voices. Guessing it was their car. They were running from another group and then they started running faster to get us. Some of them took care of each other… we took care of the rest,” he pauses. “Anyway we drove back to rendezvous and found Carol. Carol’s looking for Glenn, Maggie, Rosita, Tara. Michonne and Carl are looking for the rest of the guys, and I- was looking for you two.”

“Hm,” Daryl’s voice is indifferent as he starts walking, “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go,” Rick agrees, his voice has a hint of the humor he’s trying to suppress as he chuckles once.

The two men walk together and you walk a few paces behind, still absolutely wordless.

After a few minutes, Daryl slows his pace, creating distance from him and Rick.

He looks back at you now, “You good?” He asks only loud enough for you to hear as he comes a bit closer, he takes your hand lightly, though he still walks in front of you. You simply nod, but your face is still flushed. “Okay,” he says softly before letting go.

“Are you?”

He shrugs, it’s so small, just as small as the closed mouth smile that faintly curls on his face. His answer makes you laugh a little. You liked that he was honest. You start walking with him now.

Rick is still up ahead, putting his hands in his pockets, facing neither of you as he finally speaks again, “It was a pretty heated moment we all had back there,” your eyes widen as he continues, “Before. When we separated, I mean. It was dumb. It’s good we took a break, but the fighting, that was stupid. We find a way together or not at all.” His words are firm, but there is a heavy doubt in his voice when he adds, “But we can’t keep going like this, we need to figure something out,” he sighs, shaking his head, “And for everyone to get over their damn attitudes. At least for the night. It’s getting late and we need to find shelter.”

Rick turns his head slightly to look at Daryl through the corner of his eyes, making sure there is enough space from him and you as he turns forward, unashamedly grinning to himself now, “Glad you two found a way of working it out though.”

[k-nayee]

CHAPTER 1. FLASHPOINT

❝Killing must felt good to God too, he does it all the time. And are we not created in his image?❞

Cradle Rock M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

Every day was the same...

You woke to the gentle hum of your s̶u̶r̶r̶o̶g̶a̶t̶e̶ mother as she prepared breakfast, the facility's fluorescent lights a constant companion.

Sitting up on the edge of the quilted bed, you could only blankly gaze at the walls as you continue to slowly blink away the sleep. 

Decorated images of countless plants and animals filled your vision the longer you stared, painting a picture of an outside world you had never seen.

"____" You look over to see your mother already waiting for you at the table in the corner "It's 8:45..." Almost like a switch, you shoot up from the bed and scurry over to your seat.

Every day was the same...

In almost robotic, automatic movements, you took proportioned bites—just as the lab scientist taught you (much to your mother's dismay).

You take in your surroundings as you continue to eat, hoping to find something new within these same four walls.

The room was designed to perfectly develop a human being without leaving the room: a small library where you and your mother read together, a sleeping area, an exercise station, a cooking area, and a learning station where you were taught mini-lessons every other day.

Every day was the same...

Breakfast finished, you hand her your dishes and retreat to the small table in the learning station.

Pulling out a medical practice arm, you grab a needle and thread and began to work on your stiches, focusing on the precise movements your mother had taught you.

The sound of your mothers bustling movements fades into the background with every loop of the thread.

Every day was the same...

'Getting ready for work as usual...won't be back until nighttime.' A frown almost tugs at your lips at the thought before you brush it away with a light huff. 'Then again, she is a doctor. Can't be selfish if she's saving people...'

Hearing your mother's footsteps near, you pause your movements. The ends of her white coat flutters in your peripheral vision as you keep looking down at the dummy on the table.

But today?

"____...."

At the call of your name, you finally look up. 

A bag of medical supplies hangs in her grip, the remains of years old stickers and childlike drawings decorating its green leathered surface is what catches your attention first.

Trailing upward, you spot her favorite pink stethoscope looped around her shoulders before meeting her gaze.

Today was different.

Warm eyes gazed down at you. 

Her bag drops to the ground as she swiftly squat down to meet your height. Hands softly cradle your face which you gladly nuzzle against.

"...my sweet ____." Your heart jumps when she wraps her arms around you tight.

Not held as often, your arms are stiffen before you quickly hug around her and press your face into her shoulder as if she was going to change her mind.

She chuckles.

You look up to see her already looking at you in an unfamiliar way. Her hand softly brushes against your forehead. 

A part of you is confused. She never w̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶o̶w̶e̶d̶ showed you so much affection before. But you didn't question it.

Instead, you relished the extra attention, assuming it was just another day in your semi-isolated life.

Pulling away from the hug, she leans down and give you a kiss on the forehead, her lips lingering a bit longer than usual.

After a moment of content silence your mom stands up.

Her eyes are blinking as if to wipe away tears. 'But why is she cr—'

"I need to go. I will see you soon alright?" Picking up her medical bag once more, she reaches the doorway and unlocks it with a code before walking out.

You watch her until the door replaces your view, a tremor of unease washing over.

Shaking it off, you go grab the agriculture book Ms. Sunny had given you before continuing your task. It was one of your favorites.

Twice a week, Ms. Sunny would come to teach you about plants—how to grow them, and how to care for a garden. You always looked forward to those lessons.

Ms. Sunny wasn't like the others here. She was the only person aside from your mother who didn't treat you with indifference.

Ms. Sunny was a woman who always wore bright Sunflowered themed bows and greeted you with a sweet smile; a welcomed change from the cold sterile walls around you.

Your hands continued stitching while your eyes wandered to the open book beside you, multitasking like you often did.

Everything was normal—almost peaceful—until a knock on the door shattered the calm.

Bloodwork.

The guards (two of them as usual) came to escort you like they did every day. Over the years they had grown lazy, no longer strict in how they handled you.

They didn't need to be. You'd never caused any problems, never tried to run, and mostly kept to yourself.

You rarely even listened to what they said, staying in your own little world. After all you were just a kid. It felt wrong to listen in on adult conversations.

But today something catches your attention.

"They said the second subject failed," one guard mutters low, but not low enough.

"Rejected the dose just as the first."

"Really?"

"Yeah, infected ate them before they could even..."

You slowed unconsciously, your mind trying to grasp onto the meaning behind their words.

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. Subject? Were they talking about another person?

'There's more of me?'

The thought sent a jolt of confusion and fear through you.

You'd never been told about others—never heard about anyone else being in this facility, let alone someone else undergoing the same thing.

But you'd always suspected it: sometimes hearing shouts or muffled cries from other parts of the facility when they took you for tests or scans. Overhearing whispers about "other subjects" and how they were "difficult."

You never pressed. It was easier to live in the bubble of not knowing.

A sharp yank on your arm brought you out of your thoughts.

"Keep moving," the guard barked, his tone harsher than usual. You flinched, shrinking into yourself. He'd never spoken to you like that before.

His voice usually neutral now carried an air of fear he couldn't hide. It wasn't about you. You could sense that much.

But whatever had him on edge only made you more afraid.

Your heart began to race once realizing you were pulled down an unfamiliar route. The hallway felt unfamiliar, darker. You'd never been down this way before.

"C-can...can I go back to my room?" You asked, voice small and shaky. 

No response.

Panic set in. You try to pull away but the grip on your arm only tightened. "P-please! C-can I just go back—"

The grip only tightened. No matter how hard you tugged, they dragged you forward without a word.

Anxiety gripped your chest as you glanced around trying to understand what was happening.

You began to catch glimpses of people inside the rooms you passed—blurred figures moving too quickly for you to get a clear look.

But the more you looked, the clearer the details became.

They looked...wrong.

Their faces were gaunt—ashen like they hadn't slept in days. Some looked like they had just woken up with slow and jerky movements, but all of them moved with the same mindless gait.

They staggered around, bumping into the walls as if they weren't aware of their surroundings.

'What's wrong with them? 'The thought gnawed at your mind as you were pulled further down the hall, your heart pounding in your chest.

At the end of the hallway you spot a group of doctors crowded around a window, scribbling notes on their clipboards as they observe something inside.

A few of them were familiar—faces you had seen during your medical examinations.

Your heart pounded as you got closer and you try to offer a small smile, a faint greeting—anything to break the tension.

But they didn't look at you. Instead they shoot shocked glances at the guards.

One of the doctors step forward, his face twisted in irritation. "Why is she here? She's not supposed to see this!"

The guard holding you scoffs unfazed. "Just following orders that were given. Subject's supposed to be moved to the next phase."

Subject. The word stings but it's not new.

You've heard them use it before. Still, the way they ignored you now...it hurts more than it should have.

Their argument faded into the background as your attention was drawn to the window they were all standing by.

Curiosity tugged at you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward to peer through the glass.

The room inside was just like the others—plain, sterile, white walls. Nothing unusual at first glance.

But it was something about the streaks and dark smears on the walls that made your heart skip a beat.

You lean in closer, squinting at the strange murky stains in confusion. Especially upon spotting a mangled child's body in the corner. 'Wha—'

A face smash against the glass.

A scream tears from your throat as you jump back, your body colliding with the guard's iron grip.

That thing on the other side of the window—the creature—wasn't human.

The grotesque figure presses its decaying face against the glass, blood and rotting flesh smearing across it.

You're frozen, wide-eyed and shaking, unable to look away.

It gnashes its teeth, bloody drool trailing down its chin as its soulless eyes lock onto you before slamming its head against the glass again.

"For fuck's sake...just take her back! Get her out of here!" one of the doctors snapped, her voice cutting through the haze of fear.

But you couldn't move. Your eyes never left the rotting figure as it continued to desperately and relentlessly smash itself against the glass.

And then that's when your gaze locked on in its decomposing head. Your breath hitches, body beginning to tremble the longer you stare.

It was tangled in the creature's matted hair, bright against the horror of its decaying form.

'Is that...?' You don't finish the thought. You can't.

The guard roughly pulls you away but it's too late. The damage is done.

It's burned into your mind, seared deep. You tremble violently, your stomach lurching as the horror of what you had seen sank in.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps and the taste of your breakfast soured as bile rose higher.

You barely registered being pulled away, barely heard the scolding voices of the guards and doctors as they argued in the background.

Everything felt distant. Muted.

It was like you were underwater, the world around you muffled and far away. Your limbs unresponsive as you're hauled back down the hall.

But your eyes...your eyes never leave the window. It remains fixed on the still-rotting figure behind the glass.

Locked on the Sunflower bow in her hair.

*･:*:✮:▹༓◃:✮:*:･*

You're thrown back into your room, your legs buckling beneath you as the door slammed shut.

The trembling hadn't stopped, your breath still ragged as your mind reeled, trying to process what you had just seen.

Your body was locked in place by fear and disbelief.

And then you heard her.

"Sweetheart?"

Your gaze snapped upward. There, sitting in the corner of the room, was your mother.

Without thinking you stumble to your feet and bolt toward her, the tears already spilling over.

"M-mom!" You collapse against her as you sob uncontrollably. She rocks you gently just like when you were little.

"It's okay baby. It's okay," she soothingly whispers into your hair.

But it wasn't okay. Nothing about this was okay.

You're shaking so badly you can barely speak, your chest heaving as sob after sob wracks your body. "M-m-Ms. Sunny..."

You miss the way your mother's face crumples in grief at the name before she pushes it down.

She holds you tighter, pressing you closer into her chest.

"I know," her voice cracks as she stroke your hair. "I know sweetheart."

For a moment you almost believe her. That everything will be okay because she's here holding you like she always does.

But then the door creaks open behind you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and that fragile sense of safety shatters.

You slowly turn your head toward the source of the sound making your blood run cold.

There, standing in the doorway, was another one of those things. One of those monsters.

Just like what Ms. Sunny turned into.

Its lumbers forward with gnashing teeth, blood dripping from its cracked lips.

A terrified gasp escapes you as you tighten your grip on your mother. "M-mom we have to go! Please we have to go!"

You try to pull her up, your hands frantically tugging at her arm. But she lets out a pained grunt and stumbles, her legs giving way beneath her.

Panic claws at you—and for the first time, you notice the blood-soaked bandages crudely wrapped around her legs, already stained crimson.

Your heart lurches in confusion and terror. She was walking fine before. 'When did this happen?'

The creature's growl drags your attention back. It's getting closer.

"M-mom I—I'll get help," your voice trembled as you began to move.

You scrambled to your feet, darting toward the glass window that overlooked the facility's observation room.

Someone had to be there. Someone had to help.

But no one comes. Your cries grow frantic as you slam your fists against the glass again and again.

A sharp cry from your mother makes you whip around.

She's scooting back into the corner, eyes wide with fear as she tries to put as much distance between her and the creature as she can.

But her legs—those damned legs—keep her from moving fast enough.

Desperation surges through you.

You rush toward her ready to throw yourself between her and the monster, but before you can reach her, something yanks you backward.

Surprised, you twist around to see a guard—the same one from before—along with one of the scientists, their faces cold and emotionless. "Let me go! Let me go! I have to help her!"

But they don't listen. Instead the guard maneuvers you to the ground, slamming your body down with a thud that knocks the wind from you.

You let out a cry of discomfort as he twists your arm outward across the floor as he pins you down with a knee pressed into your back.

"Stop fighting," he growls, but you barely hear him. Your face is pressed to the cold floor as the doctor knelt beside you and grabbed your wrist.

You let out a sob as you struggled in vain to free yourself, watching helplessly as the monster drew closer and closer to your mother.

The prick of a needle pierced your skin and a wave of dizziness washed over you as whatever they injected into you began to take effect.

They release you and leave the room once again, door shutting with a thud.

You're too out of it to notice: limbs growing heavy, your strength drains as the drug takes hold. "Please...save her..."

Your voice slurs as the room begins to spin, everything tilting and warping in front of your eyes. 

"Wha...what did they do to me?" you murmur weak and strained.

Your thoughts feel jumbled, everything spinning out of control, but the only thing that pierces through the haze is one thought—your mom.

And then you hear it.

Her scream.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

It cuts through the fog like a blade and for a moment you snap back into reality just long enough to see it. You wish you hadn't.

The creature is on her. Its decaying hands are tearing into her, its teeth sinking into her stomach as it gnaws at her flesh with sickening ease.

"No..." The word barely escapes your lips. Your heart shatters, mind screaming in horror. "Momma...NO!"

A surge of energy rips through you, stronger than anything you've ever felt before. You lunge at the monster, throwing yourself onto its decaying form with a wild and primal scream.

Your hands claw at its back, tearing at the decaying flesh. It keeps eating oblivious to your blows, its teeth still sinking into your mother's flesh as blood pours from the gaping wound.

"Get off her! GET OFF MY MOMMA!" you wail, tears streaming down your face as you pound your fists against its rotting body.

But it doesn't even react. It keeps devouring her like you're not even there.

You look past its head, your heart shattering into a million pieces as your mother—your beautiful strong mother—looks up at you.

Even as blood bubbles at the corners of her mouth she somehow—somehow tries to give you a reassuring smile.

It's faint and barely there, but it's the last thing she can offer you.

Everything goes red.

Your whole body trembles uncontrollably as rage twists your face into something unrecognizable.

Your eyes blur with tears and bloodshot fury but none of it matters. The world around you fades as static seem to fill your ears.

'Stop it.'

'Save Momma.'

'StOP IT!.'

'SAVE MOMMA!'

"STOP IT!!" With an animalistic screech, your hands move on their own. They dig into its decaying neck.

Its flesh peels away under your nails soft and putrid. And without thinking, you lean in teeth bared and take a vicious bite.

The taste is vile—rotten and sour blood floods your mouth, some of it seeping down your throat.

You spit the chunks of flesh and bones out with another animalistic cry and take a bigger bite, tearing away more of its neck.

You dig your fingers deeper into its softening skull, pulling until the head is ripped clean off. 

It's not enough. It tried to take her from you.

With a savage scream you though the body to the ground and straddle its back.

"GET AWAY FROM MOMMA!" you shriek, voice breaking with raw emotion as you grab its head and began to smash it against the floor. 

Blood splattered across the room; red stained your arms, your face, the walls. But you don't care.

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOUUUUU!"

Each word punctuated by another slam, another sickening crack of bone as you continued to bash the creature's skull into the ground.

You don't stop—not until it's nothing but a mangled mess beneath your hands.

Your chest is heaving, breaths coming out in ragged uneven gasps. Blood drips from your hands, your clothes soaked in it, pooling under your knees.

The only sound now is your heavy breathing.

It takes everything inside you not to collapse right there next to the broken body of the thing you've destroyed.

"_...____.

Your head snaps up at the sound of your mother's voice. In an instant all the rage and fury you felt drains away.

You stumble toward her, your knees almost giving way beneath you as you fall at her side.

Your breath hitches when you see the gaping wound in her stomach, her pulsing insides exposed to the cold sterile air.

It's too much. The sight rips a sob from your throat. She won't make it. Not like this.

You turn to the door with desperation clawing at your chest. "I know you can hear me!" you scream, cracked voice echoing around the room. "She needs help! She needs medical attention! Please!"

There's no answer. No one comes. The door remains closed.

"Shh...don't worry," her voice is soft but it makes you freeze. You look down at her, your heart twisting at how fragile she seems.

You can't bring yourself to touch her at first, your hands trembling as they hover just above her.

"M-mom? I can't—I don't know what to do..." Tears spill freely down your cheeks.

She shakes her head gently before reaching up to cup your cheek with a trembling hand.

You pressing it against your face, as if holding on might somehow keep her with you longer. Her warmth is fading too quickly.

 More tears fall but you don't care. 

"C'mere," her voice grows softer, more distant. She pulls you close allowing you to lay your head on her chest and curl up against her.

Her heartbeat, once strong and steady, is weak now—each beat a painful reminder of what's slipping away.

It was slowing. Too slow. Too faint.

You press your ear harder against her chest, hoping—praying—that you could somehow keep her alive just by staying close.

Her shaky hand moved gently across your head as she begin to hum a soft melody causing your body to instinctively relax, the lyrics floating in your mind.

Baby mine, don't you cry

Baby mine, dry your eyes

Your chest hitched as you squeeze your eyes shut. You try to pretend that just for a moment it was any other night—that she was simply singing you to sleep.

That when you wake up, everything would be back to normal. But more tears surface because deep down you knew the truth.

There would never be another night like this.

Rest your head close to my heart

Never to part, baby of mine

The truth clawed at you but you fought against it, shaking your head in denial.

"No," you can't face it. You cuddle your face deeper into her chest as if you could hide from reality. "No, no, no..." The words became a broken chant, a desperate mantra to push the truth away.

You couldn't let her go. Not now. Not ever.

"Don't think. Go to sleep. Go to sleep." Every time you murmured the phrase you retreat further into yourself, trying to find that place where nothing hurts, where everything feels safe again.

The weight of it all becomes too heavy to hold and your mind slowly empties.

Little one when you play

Don't you mind what you say

It's quiet for a moment—too quiet—and it makes it harder for you to keep your eyes open.

You hold onto her a little tighter as you begin to get sleepy. "M...ma?"

She's quiet for a moment, her breath shallow. Then a soft "hmm?" reaches your ears.

"....I love you." the words is whispered out in a slow shaky breath, but filled with all the emotion you've kept inside for so long.

You don't see the way her eyes widen at your words, how they fill with tears she can't keep from falling.

Let those eyes sparkle and shine

For years you were always supposed to be a test subject and nothing more.

Her job was to prepare for this moment—for when you would no longer be in her care, when the role she was assigned would end.

But now that it's here...she doesn't want to leave you.

Her sweet baby. Her child.

As you drift off into a land of dreams and what-ifs you faintly feel it: the soft brush of her lips against your forehead, the warmth of her kiss lingering even as you slip further into sleep.

"I love you too..."

And with that she takes her last breath.

Never a tear, baby of mine

[dix0nvix3n]

➳જ⁀➴ 𝕯𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 ⟡

₊˚✩ ₊˚ 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶/𝔥𝔢/𝔰𝔥𝔢 | 21 | 𝔈𝔑𝔉𝔓 | 𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔦𝔡 | 𝔞𝔲𝔡𝔥𝔡 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 ₊˚✩ ₊˚

⭑✧˖°𖤓 Hi!! On this account I would prefer to be called Dagger as I would not like to reveal my real name here. I write X Reader fics for Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead and Scud from Blade 2. I'm completely new to writing so please be gentle lol. 𖤓°˖✧⭑

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩

⛥ 18+ to interact with me and my NSFW work, NSFW will always be marked as 18+, those works will say mdni but if you are a minor and do end up reading those fics, remember that I am not responsible for your media consumption.

⛥ Although I'm genderfluid I feel the most comfortable writing the reader as afab with she/her pronouns, I may potentially write gender neutral reader fics though. These things aside, anyone of any identity is of course allowed to read my work.

⛥ My fics will always come with a warning description of some kind and if I ever miss something you think should be in the warning, please let me know!

⛥ As I said I currently only write for Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead and Scud Frohmeyer from Blade 2, I hope to branch out to more Norman Reedus characters and maybe characters not played by him someday but I'm completely new to writing and really only know how to write for them so far.

⛥ Please note that I have severe anxiety when it comes to interacting with anything online which makes it very hard for me to reply to comments and comment on things, repost, and I often will love a fic and not even like the post because I get so in my head thinking that person will think of my interaction as weird. I know this probably doesn't make sense to a lot of people but please try and understand, I am currently trying to work on this but please know It's gonna take me a very long time.

ℜ𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰

⛥ I currently don't take requests because they seem a bit overwhelming for me at this time being but you can send me any thoughts and ideas you have about Daryl and Scud (some other Norman characters too! I have lots of thoughts about other characters Norman has played I just don't know how to write for them yet!) and I will try and give you my thoughts and ideas back!

ℑ𝔫𝔣𝔬

⛥ Masterlist: Will be made at some point!!

⛥ Fics:

Stoner Daryl x Stoner Reader 18+ ✶❀

COMING SOON

Daryl x Reader Alexandria Christmas One-Shot ❀ COMING SOON

Scud X Reader Blade's Lair 18+ One-Shot ✶❀

COMING SOON

✶- Smut | ✧- Suggestive ❀-Fluff | ☽-Angst

𝔉𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔄𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔐𝔢

⛥ I'm Autistic and have ADHD, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, probably several other problems I'm not aware of myself yet lmao, and I am also Anemic.

⛥ I've been to at least 15 concerts but need to recount actually how many, including 3 Warped Tours, so sorry to anyone who never got to go they were truly such unique experiences.

⛥ I have 7 piercings but have been pierced 8 times, fucked up my first eyebrow piercing lol. In order I got a septum, right eyebrow, daith, bridge, two helixes in one day, a conch and also my right eyebrow repierced on the same day. Also all the ear piercings are on my right ear cause I used to have the right side of my head shaved and an undercut so my left ear was never visible but with my new haircut,,, I really need some for the left ear.

⛥ Also, the conch jewelery is my only special piece of jewelery I have and I got it in memory of two things. The conch piece is a titanium dagger with a simple little jewel in the middle, when I saw it I immediately thought of Daryl and his big knives/daggers and also a reference to the band Witchdagger from Night In The Woods, a game that fundamentally helped me grow as a person.

⛥ The reason I changed my hair from the side shave was so I could actually grow it out and cut it to Scud's hairstyle, that fucker is soooo gender.

⛥ I don't know much about my zodiac signs but I'm a Cancer Sun, Scorpio Moon, Capricorn Rising.

⛥ My favorite fruits are peaches, oranges, and raspberries.

⛥ I edit occasionally when I have the mental energy which is rare but I post them @ daryldixonvixen on tiktok if anyone is interested, will possibly start posting my edits on instagram too :)

⛥ and uhhhh I'll keep adding to these when I think of more

And here's what the conch piercing looks like if anyone wanted to see it :]

[frenziedslashers]

I've had this imagine for a long time but I suck at writing and never know how to like kind of put it into words myself so I'll try and keep it short-ish 😭.

So it's based in s1 and it's Glenn's sister x Daryl (Daryl is like in his mid thirties and reader is in her mid twenties and one day she goes up to him maybe while he's in one of the trailers or in his tent (this is pre-rick grimes but during the beginning of the apocalypse when they're all in atlanta) and basically asks him if he wants to fuck cuz she knows neither of them have really had any kind of "release" (I hate the word so much but I couldn't think of another way to describe it) and he's like "are you crazy" or something like that and she says something like "way to let me down easy." But they end up sleeping together in his tent when merle is out on a hunt. And then it just kind of keeps going like that. Whenever they can get time to have sex, and know they won't get caught, they do it. And one day they're like kissing up against a tree and Glenn sees them and totally freaks out.

Dirty Secret;;

A/N: I really like this idea!! And don't worry if you can't keep them short-ish. I tend to ramble when I request stuff to people as well LMAO. Sorry if this isn't the best either. Been having a rough couple of weeks, but I still wanted to write something haha

Pairing: Daryl x Glenn's-Sister!Reader

Warnings: AFAB! Reader, She/her pronouns, PiV sex, Vaginal fingering, Oral (Male receiving)

TWD MASTERLIST || REQUEST INFO

No matter how much he denied it. He liked you.

Daryl hardly knew anything about you. He wished that was different, but it was so hard to talk to you. Let alone look at you. Every glance he would steal from you he'd be averting his eyes the moment you looked his way. His cheeks flushed a soft pink at the mere thought of you catching him looking at you. He felt weird. Like he was creeping on you. He couldn't help it.

It seemed like with each passing day he wanted to look at you more and more. When he would come back from his hunts he was looking for you in the small group of people. Asking his brother or anyone else who wasn't Glenn where you were.

"See ya got a thing for the Asians little sister huh?" Merle would ask, and Daryl would roll his eyes in return. The last thing he needed was his older brother teasing him. "Nah, jus' makin' sure she ain't out there dead," he scoffed. Merle knew better though. That knowing smirk on his face as he watched his brother stomp away from him. He knew he wasn't just a worried civilian. He was a worried guy hoping his potential woman wasn't out there dead.

Daryl would never admit to that, though. He hated the fact that he liked you. He wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was because you smiled at him anytime he looked at you. Or when he would come back from hunts you would congratulate him for the kills and always thank him for providing you all with food. Or maybe it was just because you were so damn pretty. He swore you were an angel or something. With how your smile seemed to make his chest clench each time he was lucky enough to see it. Plus, your eyes were so mesmerizing. He just wished he had the balls to talk with you.

Little did he know, you looked at him the same way. You looked at him with an expression that he didn't seem to catch onto. He never quite held eye contact with you long enough to notice. The way that you would watch him with such sweet admiration.

"Daryl," His body froze when he heard you calling his name. Anytime you said his name he swore you said it differently than anyone in his life ever had. With such kindness, and that voice of yours that could make him do anything.

Just last week Merle was on his ass about him doing anything you asked. You had asked him if he could look for some medication on a run he was going on with Glenn. You could have asked Glenn, but you asked him. So of course, he listened and went out of his way to find them.

"That girl got ya whipped and y'ain't even stuck yer dick in 'er yet," his older brother spat, and Daryl snapped. "Don' ya ever talk 'bout 'er like that again, ya hear me? She's better than that," and Merle just smiled and laughed at his baby brother's rage. "Pathetic."

When you got to where he was standing at his tent he snapped out of his thought. Shaking his head before looking down at you with a soft gaze. He didn't say anything, though. Just simply acknowledged that you were there by looking at you.

"Do you think I could ask you something?" You questioned with a raised brow. Daryl felt his palms clam up with how close you were to him. The fact that you were going out of your way to talk to him was mind-boggling to the archer. He nodded his head reluctantly, keeping his mouth closed.

You cleared your throat, eyes darting down to the ground. He was scared, to say the least. You'd never looked so nervous around him before.

"I see the way you look at me, and uhm.." you licked your lips and he felt his heart drop while he processed your words. "I think we feel the same about each other, do you maybe wanna..." You rocked back on your heels before mustering up the courage to say what you wanted to say. "Sleep together?" You nearly squeaked out, cringing at your choice of wording. You had thought of another way to phrase it earlier, but saying it to him was a lot different than thinking it. The first words that came to mind gushed out of your mouth like an idiot.

He was flabbergasted. It wasn't often that people could leave Daryl without something snarky to say, but right now was one of those moments. You were asking to fuck around with him? You, the pretty Rhee girl with those eyes and smile that made the archer's knees wobble? That had to be a joke. Glenn had to have set you up to this. Or Merle did. That had to be it.

"Look," you spoke up, seeing the gears turning in his head. "We don't have to, I was just figuring that since the apocalypse is among us that it'd be fun." You told him and he scoffed, "Plus your brother and my brother are gone on a run! It'd be the only time we really have to." You told him with a small frown, noticing how his scowl returned to his face.

"Yer crazy," he snapped, and you felt like you could crumble to the ground. "Merle put you up to this 'in't he?" He barked, and you shook your head. "No, I don't even talk to your brother, Glenn doesn't like how he looks at me." you frowned, and when he looked up and saw how to hurt you looked, he recoiled. He hated that he made you so upset, but this couldn't actually be happening. "Ain't happening, girl," he sneered, and you didn't think you could sink any lower.

You ducked your head down when he went to push past you. "Way to let a girl down..." you pouted, and he felt guilt course his veins. You were running off before he even had the chance to run past you himself. You practically dove into your tent. Your knees were brought up to your chest after the door was zipped. Hiding away from the world as embarrassment took over. You didn't care if it was still sunny out and the heat only seemed to make you bake alive. Maybe it'd put you out of your petty misery.

Daryl on the other hand resorted to the forest where he hid for what felt like hours. With the sun setting now, and how low the sun was before. It was probably only tinkering on one, maybe two hours.

He couldn't quite gather why you would come to him with such bold words. He always took you as someone too meek and shy to say something like that. Obviously, he was wrong. That was one thing you and your brother seemed to have in common. You both spoke your mind; regretting it would be a problem for later.

It wasn't like Daryl didn't think of you that way. Hell, he hadn't slept with anyone since well before the apocalypse began. He didn't have the time, and he was tired of sleeping with people that would leave him the next morning without a goodbye. He was tired of feeling so goddamn alone.

He wanted to find you and tell you how he felt, but he didn't know how. Daryl never knew how to express his feelings. Unless it was anger, disgust, distrust, or any negative emotion. It came to him like flying came to a bird.

He thought about you that whole time out there. The look of fear on your face when you asked. How anxious you looked when he didn't respond. Most of all, how saddened you look when he basically said no. It wasn't that he didn't like you. He just didn't want to like you too much. Daryl didn't want you to use him like every other person in his life. A part of him actually wanted you to be his girlfriend. A word foreign to him, but he was so eager to try.

He hadn't even noticed when he was heading back to the camp that his feet were leading him toward your tent. Both you and Glenn chose to sleep more on the outskirts of the camp. Daryl and his brother clear on the opposite end of camp.

Carol had seen the archer wander, and a small, knowing smile crept on her face. Hopefully he'd do something to give you something to gossip over while you, her, and the other girls did laundry. They gave you the idea of confronting Daryl, after all.

"You have to be blunt with men. Tell them what you want." Lori had told you earlier that day. "Just grab him by the face and kiss him!" Amy squealed, and you had shaken your head. "That's too blunt for Daryl," they all nodded at your words. You were right. Too much physical contact and he'd run. "Just tell him you wanna have sex, guys normally go for that. You can work it out from there." Carol told you with a kind smile, and you listened to that advice.

Now you were sulking and wishing you hadn't. If you hadn't then you wouldn't be in this mess. Too afraid that if you left the safety of your tent he'd be there. Just instead of catching him staring and bashfully looking the other way. He'd be glaring and looking at you like you were some disgusting cheap whore.

Your tent shook and you almost jumped out of your skin. A small shout left your lips before asking who was out there. "Jus' me, keep it down, gon'a have everyone over here," Daryl rasped, and you felt your body grow hot with embarrassment.

You didn't know what to say, falling silent while you coiled more into yourself. Your face hiding behind your knees while you chewed on the inside of your cheek. He did the same, standing there with racing thoughts. The hell was he even supposed to say?

"Hey, look, 'm sorry," he muttered, and you almost didn't hear him. "No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have thought you liked me like that, too," he felt his stomach flutter at those words. Oh, but he did like you like that. He hardly knew you and he liked you a lot more than he cared to admit. "Nah, jus' ain't used to pretty girls wantin' t'sleep with me." He admitted while scuffing his foot on the ground. Your heart lept in your chest.

"You think I'm pretty?" You asked, and he nodded. Until he realized the tent was still zipped up, meaning you couldn't see him. "Yeah, real pretty," he almost whispered.

You couldn't hide the smile that was on your face. You were glad that the tent was hiding you from his view. You were practically beaming with pride over his words. A little bit of the boldness from before sneaking back into your head.

"Did you want to come in and sit with me?" You had asked, expecting him to say no or call you crazy again after you did. Before you could overthink it too much you heard him shuffle around in front of your tent. The zipper let out a hiss as he pulled it up and around the door.

He put his crossbow inside first, crawling in after. The weapon was set to the side and off the blankets. You had even noticed that he set his boots outside beside your shoes. A small smile on your lips with how considerate he really was.

Once the man was inside and sat beside you it was quiet again. Neither of you knew what to do from here.

"That offer still up?" Daryl blurted, and the both of you were a little shocked by his words. You cleared your throat, the hunter looking over to inspect your face. You were flustered. He could tell by the way you tried to hide your face behind your hands while you rubbed at it. It made him smile at the fact that he could make you feel that way.

"Uhm, if you want to, I don't want you to pity me or anything," he chuckled softly at your rambling. "I ain't pityin' ya," he sighed, reaching out to brush his fingers along your jaw. Grabbing your attention so you would look at him. "You were right, I've been lookin' at ya same as you look at me," he told you with a lopsided smile, and you felt your stomach doing flips. He just wished he knew if you only looked at him with sexual attraction, or maybe more.

"Can I kiss ya?" he asked, and you felt your heart melt at the fact that he asked. You knew a lot of guys wouldn't ask. They'd just take what they want, but you could tell Daryl was different. It's one of the reasons you trusted him out of everyone in this small group to get some relief out of. Plus, a part of you hoped that something might stem from it.

When you nodded and told him it was okay he crawled over to you. His hand was on your jaw and he kissed you a lot differently than you imagined from the hunter. He was gentle, yet rough. A mix that you didn't expect from him. You had expected him to be all rough, nothing soft.

Once your lips were locked he was pushing you back onto the bed of blankets. His body climbed in between your thighs while he hovered over you and just kissed you for a while. You expected him to get right to business, but he took his time.

He was pretty nervous. He wasn't a virgin, he'd had sex a few times. Not enough that he knew what he was doing, though. He didn't have the charm that most guys had. He was awkward and over thought everything that he did. Plus, he hardly knew anything about peoples bodies, let alone the opposite gender.

He pulled back to lean down. Pressing a kiss to your jaw, then down to your neck. The scruff on his chin and upper lip tickling your skin. Smiling lightly at the sensation. A light giggle escaping your lips. The sound causing him to stop and look up at you. Blue eyes full of worry and curiosity.

"That tickled," you whispered, and he felt his heart flutter. He swore you were cuter than any girl he's ever met.

"Yeah?" He asked with a small smile. You only nodded back with a small snicker. Reaching out to run your hands over his chest. The action making Daryl suck his bottom lip in between his teeth.

The more you touched him the faster he wanted to get you both undressed. Though his hands were still shaky and clammy. Worried that he may end up doing the wrong thing.

His lips only kissed on your neck. He caught your skin between his teeth here or there, but nothing enough to leave a mark. The last thing he needed was Merle or your brother catching on. He knew Merle would just tease the holy hell out of the both of you. Glenn on the other hand, he was a little scared of how the younger man would react. Daryl knew best that family was important. Fuck around with the wrong family and a death wish may be in place.

His thoughts all came to a blurry stop when your legs wrapped around his waist. Pulling yourself up against him so your crotch met his own. The action pulling a moan from the both of you.

"Shit," he spat, nose nuzzling against your shoulder. "We gotta be quiet, darlin'," he gasped, and you nodded. Your head swimming with all sorts of thoughts. The fact that you were about to have sex with the man you had been eyeing for the past couple of weeks. The fact that you hadn't done this in what felt like years. And the fact that he was calling you 'darling'. You were in heaven.

"Can I?" he murmured, kissing your shoulder while tugging at the bottom of your shirt before he leant up to study your face. He couldn't get enough of your pretty eyes.

Once you gave him permission he was pulling your shirt over your head. Instinct settling into the hunter. He knew what he wanted, and knew how to get it. He just needed to know how to give you what you wanted.

"Tell me if I do anything wrong," he huffed out, to which you nodded. "You're doing great so far," you assured him with a chuckle. He didn't respond too much, though. His eyes were too fixated on your upper half. A bit of your own self-consciousness rushing through your body when he stared for a little too long.

His hands were quick to pin yours to the side when you went to cover up. Shaking his head while his eyes drug up your body to your own eyes. "Yer beautiful, none o'that." he stated, and you felt your whole body heat up with bashfulness. You wish you'd met him sooner, truthfully.

You nodded, agreeing with what he had to say. You probably agree with about anything the archer above you said. A small hum leaving your throat when he leant down to kiss your chest. He left soft butterfly kisses over your breasts. Soon leaving hungry open mouthed kisses on your mounds of skin. Licking and biting, gathering all the reactions that the hunter could spur from you.

"Like that, huh?" he growled against your skin when he began nipping on your left nipple. Flattening his tongue over the sensitive bud before he kissed over to the other side.

His mind was a bubbling mess of pleasure and nonsense. He hardly knew what he was thinking. Other than how perfect you were. He felt like he was worshipping an angel.

Daryl kissed further down to your stomach. Both of his hands removed from yours to explore. One hand rubbing and squeezing at your breast while the other reached down for your pants.

A grunt left his throat when you tugged at his locks of hair. Raising his head to look up at you. His pupils blown wide.

"Can you take your shirt off?" You nearly whispered, and he felt his heart sink. He almost said yes, but that familiar dread settled in. He didn't need you pitying him right now.

"I can't," he told you. He half expected you to question him, but you just nodded. You nodded with a smile. Reaching down to cup the side of his face with such care. "That's okay," you told him, and he swore he could have broken down into a weeping mess if it weren't for how horny he was.

He crawled back up and over you when you pulled him towards your face. The two of you sharing a look before he leaned down to lock your lips in another kiss.

His hand ran over the hem of your pants that you had changed into to sleep in. Running his calloused fingers over the soft fabric.

"Daryl," you whined against his lips. He nearly cursed in response at the sound of it. He only hummed in response. Refusing to part his lips from yours for too long. "Hurry up," you huffed.

Daryl smiled a little at this. He parted his eyes with a faint nod before pulling back from you. His hands quick at hooking under the hem of your pants and panties. Looking up at you to make sure everything that he was doing was all right. Tugging the clothing down your hips and then thighs.

You listened as he took in a sharp breath. Your eyes watching his face with caution. Making sure that he didn't look disgusted or like he was regretting to ever agreeing to do such things with you.

"Jesus," he huffed, and you shifted a little. "What?" You asked, and he shook his head while moving so he could pull your pants off the rest of the way. Tossing them aimlessly beside the both of you. "You're just a lot prettier than I imagined."

You felt your heart flutter at his words. Not only was he complimenting you, but he was also admitting to imagining what you looked like beneath your clothes. Was he thinking about you before this? Or was it only after you asked him if he wanted to fuck earlier that day?

He was quick to distract you from your thoughts again. Heat pooling in your stomach as you watched him tug his own pants down. You saw the reluctance in his movements. Your own hands reaching out to help him. Glancing up as if to ask if it was okay, and he nodded. Of course it was okay. It was more than okay, really.

The hunter pursed his lips as he watched you pull his pants down. Watching as your eyes danced over each sliver of skin that you exposed. The way that you licked and bit on your lips. Especially the way your eyes seemed to widen at the sight of him when he was finally free from his pants. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing, though. He only hoped your shocked expression was good.

"All good?" He blurted, cringing a little at his wording. He didn't entirely know what to say, though. "Daryl," he froze, waiting for you to finish. You were going to insult him, weren't you? "You're more than just all good, you're..." You pondered words, smirking as you helped him get the rest of the way out of his pants. Leaning yourself up in order to kiss his chest. "You're lovely. Words can't even express how handsome you are," you praised, and he felt his skin burn red. His heart leaping in his chest. Soft grumbles leaving his chest while you kissed over his chest. Lightly biting every so often.

His eyebrows furrowed when your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Hissing as your thumb ran over his tip. Allowing you to pull him back on top of yourself. "Shit, you feel so good," he murmured, kissing your cheek and then your lips.

Daryl brought a hand down to your own sex. His fingers running over your damp entrance. His body was buzzing with excitement. You could tell he was almost as nervous as you were, though. If not, maybe a little more.

His movements were slow and a little awkward. You let go of him in order to reach and grab his hand. Guiding and showing him what to do. Showing him where you liked to be touched the most, where your clit was, how to rub it. How to finger you. He was certain that by the end of the night he'd have you cum at least once. Or God smite him now.

He rubbed where you told him too. Watching with an intrigued gaze at how your hips bucked and rolled against just his hand. It fed his ego more than it probably should have. Smiling lightly when you began pressing frantic kisses to his neck and shoulders. The way your hips rolled, your hands pawed at his body, and most of all the way you moaned softly in his ear. It was enough to make him buck his hips against nothing.

"Daryl, please," you whimpered, and he felt his stomach do flips. There was no way you sounded so pretty. "Please what?" He drawled. His voice already deeper that before. "Fuck me," you gasped when his fingers curled into you once more.

He was shocked with how bold you were, but he wasn't going to deny what you wanted, either.

Daryl was quick to pull his hand away from your entrance. Replacing it with his throbbing dick. He wanted to watch you cum on his fingers, but that wasn't for now. Right now he needed to be inside you. He needed to feel you squeezing down on him while he fucked you into the stupid blankets below the both of you.

Once he was aligned he was looking up at you as if to ask if everything was all right. Your soft nod and 'yes' was all he needed to keep going. Pushing forward in order to slide into you.

His brows furrowed when the tip of himself was inside you. Pushing forward while huffing out breaths until he bottomed out in you. Your own face was scrunched. Reaching out in order to claw at his clothed back.

Daryl saw how uncomfortable you looked by your expressions. The man leaning down in order to pepper kisses on your lips and shoulders. "If I need'a stop, ya tell me," he grunted, and you nodded. "I'm fine," you told him, and he only nodded. He wanted you to know that if you wanted to stop at any time he wouldn't be mad. He'd stop.

Once you were comfortable enough you shifted your hips. The both of you inhaling sharply at the pleasure that shot through you both like bullets. "Shit, I might not last long," he told you, and you chuckled, nodding softly. "Feel that good?" you teased, and he let out a soft moan in response when you rolled your hips up. "Y'ain't got no idea, woman."

He started a pace that was a little slow at first. An attempt to savor the moment, but it wasn't long before the hunter was lost. His hips pulling back before snapping into you. He occupied his mouth with your own. The both of you doing your best to stay quiet. Thankful that the tent wasn't too close to any one else's since Glenn's empty tent was beside your own and then Jaques.

"Daryl," you mewled, and he nodded. "What is it?" He asked, his hand coming between the both of you to press his finger over your clit. Just like you showed him earlier.

He smirked when your back arched. You couldn't even finish your thought from earlier. Your head craned back. Leaving the hunter ample room to kiss and bite. It was hard to remind himself that he couldn't suck on your skin. A temptation that he wished no one would think anything of.

His thrusts only seemed to get rougher. The sound of skin on skin growing louder as he fucked into you. His fingers rubbing your sensitive bud a little harsher than before. Trying to get you to meet your high with him. Which was only growing closer for the archer.

"Shit," he mumbled against your skin. His free hand gripping your hip harder than before as his thrusts grew more sloppy and rugged. "God, 'm close," He hissed against your skin. To which you nodded with a choked mewl. "Me too," you cooed out, and it wasn't long before your body was coiling in on itself. The coil within your stomach snapping.

Your arms wrapped around his body. Your legs around his waist in an attempt to pull the man further inside you while you came around him. Daryl fought hard in order to not cum inside of you. It took everything not to. You just felt too good. The way that you squeezed and pulsated around him. The way your fingernails dug into his back through his shirt. And the way you whispered his name into his ear, over and over like a frantic prayer. A few more thrusts and he was pulling out of you, spilling his seed all over your stomach. He hadn't came that hard in God only knows how long.

The both of you laid there for a few moments. Daryl on his back beside you while the both of you tried to regain your strength. Both of you floating back down to earth. Slow, but sure.

"That was..." He started, searching for words. "Wow," he finished, and you giggled. Leaning over to press a kiss to his shoulder. "Think we could do it again, sometime?" You asked, and you were thankful you were looking over at the hunter. Catching his smile as he stared up at the roof of your tent. "Yeah, I'd like that."

It did happen a lot more after that, too. You were both as good as rabbits. Fucking anytime the two of you got the chance.

Daryls favorite was when you asked Dale if the both of you could take his Canoe out onto the water to "fish." Daryl did try and fish, the only thing you really fished was his dick in his pants.

He was oblivious when you offered to fish with him that morning, though. Only thinking that all you wanted to do was fish. He wasn't opposed to that thought, though. After sharing such an intimate moment with you the other night he liked the thought of spending actually quality time with you.

He wasn't exactly complaining when you slid down to your knees in front of him, either. He was telling you that you didn't have to. That if you didn't want to, he wouldn't be hurt. He never really thought he deserved head from anyone.

The moment you had your tongue on his shaft, licking up to his tip. He was a goner.

His head tipped back and his eyes fell shut with a groan. The fishing pole in the holder on the side of the boat while one hand gripped the seat and the other was tangled in your hair. With each bob of your head he fought the urge to thrust up into your throat. Not only did he not want to hurt you, but he also didn't want to move the canoe too much and tip the both of you.

"Fuck, like that," he purred, watching you through half lidded eyes. Practically melting into the seat of the boat while you gave him the best head of his life.

He thought about that morning anytime he had free time.

The both of you had quite the experience streak going on. Anytime the both of your brothers were away from camp you were in one or the others tent. Soon it wasn't even for sex. Some nights Daryl would just lay with you. Your head on his chest or vice versa. The both of you just lying in one another's presence. Some nights the both of you would swap stories. You typically did most of the talking, but he'd open up to you the more time that you both spent together.

"Daryl," you sighed as he trailed beside you. "I'll be fine out here by myself, we haven't seen any walkers this far out at all since we've been camped out here." You just wanted to go looking for anything. Whether it be a rabbit to kill and bring back to the camp, or maybe just something that was left out in the woods that could be used as something useful. You weren't exactly complaining that Daryl was acting so protective. It was nice. If it was your brother, you'd be throwing a fit and telling him to leave you be. Daryl following you like a puppy was a lot nicer. He didn't talk as much as Glenn, either.

"That's the thing, we ain't seen many up here, but we will," you frowned a little at his words. "So you're just going to follow me around like a body guard from now on?" You asked, and he shrugged. "Guess so." He told you, and you nodded with a chuckle. "Sure thing, Dixon," you sighed, reaching out to link your pinky with his. The hunter didn't argue, either. If anything it eased his anxiety more than just walking beside you. Now if he needed to he could pull you from harms way.

You slowed your pace, Daryl looking over at you with a brow raised. "Well, since we're out here." You stopped, and he turned a little to look at you a little better. "Do you think you could teach me how to work that crossbow of yours?" You asked, and he froze. It took him a moment to process what you were asking, but it wasn't long before he was smiling a little. Glancing down before looking back up at you. "You know how to shoot a gun?" He asked, and you nodded. "Glenn taught me." He nodded this time.

He led you over to a tree. Carving an 'X' with his knife before leading you so far back. "All right," he started, parting his feet so far while he held the bow in his arms. "Ya gotta make sure yer standin' right first. Gotta stand with yer feet so far apart or else yer gonna lose balance and fall on yer ass," He told you, and you nodded, watching as he brought the weapon up to aim. "Then ya just aim and shoot. Gotta just breathe." He finished before squeezing the trigger and firing. Looking up at the target where he hit a near perfect bullseye. Soon looking back over at you.

You reached your arms out for the bow that he offered to you. Smiling as you held it in your arms and struggled a little at cocking the weapon. Soon bringing it back up and into your arms. Raising it to eye level. "Like this?" You asked, and he chuckled.

You flinched a little when he put his hands on your waist. "It's okay, jus' me," He spoke when he felt your body jerk. Turning your hips a little and kicking your feet a little further apart. "Now bring the bow more here," He ordered. Moving the butt of the weapon more in the center of your shoulder. "Then just breathe," He told you, staying close while you aimed. Finally firing the weapon.

You lowered the crossbow in order to see where you fired. Daryl giving your waist a light squeeze. You peaked over your shoulder to catch the proud grin on his face before it mellowed into a softer smile. "Come on," he told you, leading you closer to the tree so the both of you could get a better look.

He whistled lightly, and you giggled. "Yer a natural," he boasted, and you rolled your eyes. "I wouldn't say that, I didn't even get a bullseye." You pouted a little, and he shrugged. "Nah, but you still hit in the x. You were close," he added in attempts to make you feel better. You did do exceptionally well for it being your first time shooting the bow.

You shrugged, looking up and over at the male with a soft smile. "Better luck next time," you told him, and he chuckled. The man was already looking at you. Your faces mere inches from each other. It wasn't long before he was turning to pull you in for a soft kiss. "Could practice some more." He told you before kissing you again. You just let out a soft laugh against his lips.

"Daryl! What if Merle or Glenn comes out here," you whisper yelled against his lips. He didn't care, though. "We're fine," he muttered, and you didn't argue anymore. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders while his hand not holding the crossbow came to pull you closer to him by your waist. "God, you're the horniest guy I've ever met," you teased him, and he chuckled. Pulling back to look over your face. "Yeah? Hard not t'be when I've got you here," He murmured, and you felt your skin grow warm.

You leaned in to give him another kiss. This time running your fingers through the hair on the back of his head. Which from what you've learned in the few weeks that the two of you had been doing this. Only seemed to get him more in the moment.

"What the hell's going on?" You both jerked away from each other when you heard a shout. The color draining from your face when you saw Glenn standing behind Daryl. A large stick in his hand that he was ready to hit the archer with.

You stood there for a moment, noticing the way Daryl backed away from you both. He did his best to show and tell Glenn that he didn't want any trouble, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that Glenn didn't care what Daryl had to say.

"I made one thing fucking clear to you all and it was to not fuck with my sister and here you are! What, did you think you weren't included in that statement?" Glenn shouted, and you shoved at your brothers chest. "Leave him alone, Glenn! I'm an adult, you've got to stop treating me like I'm still eighteen!" You barked with a frown. Your brother only glancing down at you for a second before he looked back up at Daryl.

"You stay away from her," This time you shoved at Glenn's chest harder. "Glenn Rhee, shut up!" You snapped, and Glenn shook his head. "Look, I'm not letting my sister last resort to someone like him!" He snapped, and you shook your head. Daryl shifted a little uncomfortably behind the both of you. Looking down at the ground. The mix of yelling and insults thrown at him making him uncomfortable.

"Yeah? Last resort or not, I wish I met him sooner," you snarled, and Daryl peeked up at that. He was about to walk off. He was worried that you would insult him next, but he was interested now.

"The hell do you mean by that?" Glenn asked, and you felt your hands grow a little clammy with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "He treats me nice." You told your brother, and you noticed the way his brow relaxed a little. "Really nice. Better than any guy before all this ever did. He treats me like I'm someone, and not just a toy. I like him and I'm not letting you scare him off, Glenn. I'd do anything for you! You're my big brother, but Daryl's not a bad guy," you told your brother with a slight frown. Trying your best to convince your brother that Daryl wasn't using you. Or at least you hoped he wasn't.

Daryl couldn't believe that you were standing up for whatever the two of you had going on. He was shocked to hear that he treated you better than any other guy you had been with. Either you had only been with one other guy, or you had as good of luck with relationships as he did.

He was just glad that you thought whatever the two of you had going on was as nice as he thought it was. It was the nicest thing he's had in years, honestly.

"Fine." You both looked at Glenn this time. Your brother meeting Daryls eyes. His glare settling back on his face. "But if anything, and I mean anything happens to you," He looked back to you, "And I find out it's his fault," He looked up at Daryl again. "He's dead." Glenn snarled, and you nodded. Reaching out to give him a hug with a smile. "Thank you, Glenny." He nodded with a sigh, returning the hug. "Just, stay safe..." He muttered in your ear, and you nodded. Pulling from your brother before watching him wander back towards camp.

"Does that make us something?" Daryl asked, taking a step closer to you. You froze at his words. Looking over your shoulder at the male. "What?" He shrugged. "You fought for whatever we got goin' on. We more than just a dirty secret?" He asked, and you brought your lower lip between your teeth. You shrugged, reaching up to rub your jaw. "I guess," he smiled softly. He didn't say anything more. He only motioned for you to follow him back to camp.

From then on, though. You and Daryl were practically inseparable. Especially since you didn't necessarily have to hide it from Glenn anymore. Merle was another story.

Daryl was far from touchy when it came to being around the others, but he was always right there with you. Whether it be standing by you, sitting near you, lying with you at night, or watching you as you talked to someone. He was making sure the others who got too close knew that you were off the table. He considered you his now, as he was yours. Whether you liked it or not. You were stuck with him.

More so, whether Glenn liked it or not.

Taglist: @ambassadortotrilliusprime @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

[g00d--m0urning]

Unnamed Pt. 2 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader)

Yippie, part two!!

Part one

TW/CW: vomiting, gore and violence (not super descriptive, dw), reader is pregnant so obvi AFAB but no gendered descriptors, ex-cop!reader, swearing, no use of Y/N, grammar mistakes

WC: 3942

A/N: I promise it'll pick up speed :'( I'm definitely not doing an episode by episode rewrite. And Daryl and Reader will finally reunite next part, so I'm looking forward to writing that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A car swerves off the road, trying to avoid scrambling pedestrians, straight towards you; you jump over the hood of a car nearby, narrowly avoiding the car as it bursts into flame. You rush back around, checking on the driver; who is nonexistent apparently, there’s nobody in there. “What the fuck!?” you breathe out, jogging over to your car and getting it started. You get the radio on, switching to the emergency channel, wishing you had your police scanner with you as you get onto the road, heading in direction to the precinct.

If there’s one place you’ll be safe it should be a police station, right? There’s at least guns for whatever the hell is going on. Sirens flash in your rearview, trying to get you to pull over--you swear, but do so anyhow. “Do you know why I--Shit! Greenie?” you recognize the voice, it’s officer Cameron. He leans into your open window pulling his sunglasses down. “Heading down to the precinct?”

“Yeah. Do you know what the hell is going on?” you ask, turning the radio down and surveying both Cameron and behind him. It’s like some sort of apocalypse, but that’s far fetched, you think.

He shakes his head, “Nah, nah; I don’t, there’s too much going on. We’re getting calls left and right, whole damn city’s going into panic.” he answers, scratching at his stereotypical cop-stache. His walkie blares, unintelligible words coming through. “Hey, be safe, get off the roads soon.”

He pats your shoulder, walking off quickly as he speeds off. That was no help at all, you knew all of that already. You groan, pulling back onto the road and getting to your destination. 

Cops are flooding in and out of the building, paramedics and firefighters all gathered there; behind you there’s black SUV’s pulling in, FBI you assume. What in the shit is going on? You sprint into the building, watching the chief dole out guns to anyone in reach, the news is blaring, radios screeching, people yelling, you can barely hear anything. “Greenie, here! Take this, and get home, youngin’. Stay safe, stay indoors.” the chief orders, shoving a glock and a few boxes of ammo into your arms and practically shoving you out the door. You flounder slightly, confused and in need of answers, opening your mouth to speak but you’re cut off, “No time to explain, too much to do, just keep that kid of yours safe.” You gape, throwing your arms in the air. In your confusion you remember Daryl, crap; Daryl, is he ok? You imagine he should be, the man can survive anything, but still. You pull out your phone and dial his number and he doesn’t answer, of course. Fucking, fuck, fuckity fuck, whatever. 

The drive back home is insane, fires and dead people--Dead people? You slam on your brakes, just barely stopping before the body in the middle of the street. You could puke; you’ve seen dead bodies, but never like this. Nothing like this is normal, the body is missing chunks from her arms and neck, like some freako cannibal case. 

The body twitches, just a cadaveric spasm (you learned that in school, you spent years looking at dead bodies, after death spasms are just remaining nerves working, it’s normal). She twitches again, and again and she’s up. You stare at the body in disgust and confusion and shock, you could've swore she was just dead. The undead reaches for you, jaws snapping at your ankles and glazed eyes staring at you. A scream garbles itself from your throat as you stagger back, nearly tripping over the car in the process. You fumble with the door handle, reaching over the center console to grab your gun; the thing manages to grab at your ankle in the time, making you kick out, trying to shake it off. 

You manage to get the gun and get two bullets into the crazed person. Bile rises in your throat as you look at the dead body, watching to see if she comes back again; thankfully she doesn’t and you can puke. You look at her, the bullet holes in her head, the rotting bite marks in her skin; it’s horrid, nothing you’ve seen before. God. 

The car ride home is intense, fires left and right, screaming people--more bitten people, you realize when you look closer at a few of them--and the radio is no help, reports of deaths, murders, and traffic jams. You pull into the parking garage for your apartment, parking in a far corner and tossing a tarp over it to hopefully keep it in better condition and out of view.

You can barely get to your apartment with all the people rushing to and fro throughout the building; some are leaving, packing their stuff into their cars, others are barricading themselves in their apartments. Fortunately you get into your apartment without being trampled, locking both the deadlock and door chain.

Rushing around your apartment is next, filling empty water jugs and bottles with water--who knows how long the water will be on--getting perishables cooked, and inventorying things like batteries, nonperishables, first-aid, anything one needs for an apocalypse.

You thank whatever god that does or doesn’t exist that you went shopping a few days ago; it was a big trip too, you were running low on pretty much everything. So, you don’t need to go try and conquer the shit show that is the shops, which were clearly being raided already. Getting the door barricaded shut was easy enough--bungee cords tied to the door handle and kitchen counter post, chair tucked under the knob (you had to learn quickly how to keep a door shut with Daryl’s old trailer, considering Merle had walked in on the two of you on multiple occasions).

-------------------------------------  

A month passes by very slowly. You never realized how boring it could get without modernity. Normal TV stopped playing a week in, even the emergency signal stopped broadcasting after that. Phones and utilities went week two, something about needing to horde supplies for the military who started setting up camps around that time. 

You had the vague thought of going to one, figuring it’d be safe and helpful with your pregnancy, but quickly learned otherwise over the radio. Infected managed to sneak into the one closest to you, killing most people, so you dodged that bullet. Which means, you’ve just been entertaining yourself with coloring, and light workouts, reading and people watching or--Zombie watching, you suppose. 

The fire escape provides a nice safe vantage point and you pretty much see the whole town--you tried the hall one time and it was overrun, almost didn’t make it back in--and the infected roaming the streets. A few people have passed through, most of them were raiders, passerby, but some were local, those who stayed; officer Cameron stayed, your ultrasound tech, she left a few days ago though. 

You’ve been thinking of doing the same as of late. You don’t know what you’d do if you did, head back to Georgia to find Daryl? Wander until you find a safezone or hell, even just a group so you’re not alone anymore. 

Your head rests in your hands as you contemplate the risks of leaving the apartment; with the zombies flooding the halls and the unknown number of them in the parking garage and who knows what could happen on the drive. 

You roll your eyes, leaning back in the desk chair, “Fuck me, man.” you groan, running a hand down your face as you stand up from the chair, grabbing a backpack out of the closet.

You busy yourself with packing the bag precariously: a few changes of clothes, your first aid kit, a book and notebook, food and water, the few boxes of ammo you have, a knife, a lighter, and in the last bit of space you shove a sleeping bag.

“Yeah, yeah, that should be everything.” you murmur to yourself as you tuck your gun and pocket knife into your belt. 

As you get a foot out of the window something catches your eye, making you pause and hurry back inside. You take the sonogram into your hands, staring at the black and white picture before gently placing it in the side pocket before finally slipping out the window.

You curse at the creaky fire escape as a few heads turn your ways, breathing a sigh of relief as they quickly get distracted. Just to be safe, you toss the plant you had long let die onto the street, watching as the undead shuffle to the noise in hopes of a meal. It’s unsettling, the way they move like puppets on a string, but you file that to the back of your mind and make quick work of the stairs.

Slinking down the alley and sneaking across the street is surprisingly easy--they’re genuinely so brain dead, there’s absolutely no semblance of the person they were before; it’s depressing if you think too hard of it. An involuntary sigh of relief pulls from your lips at the sight of your baby still sitting pretty in the garage. Silently you pull the gray tarp off the car, folding it over itself a few times and tossing it in the backseat along with your backpack into the passenger seat.

“Hello, my beautiful girl, I missed you, baby.” you coo at the car, running a hand over the slick, black roof. You dip back into the passenger seat, popping the glove box open and grabbing the map Daryl had insisted you keep in there.

It’d been annoying back then, but it makes you smile today; guess you really did need it. You unfold the map over the hood of your car, tapping the pencil you had wrapped up in the paper against it. Suddenly reading a map seems like a much more important skill as you stare at the lines representing roads, and rivers, and landmarks. Technically, you do know how to read one, but barely, it’s not like you were in a scouts troop as a kid.

There’s a few old markings on the map from Daryl--just a few words, circles to help direct you--it almost makes you cry. You chalk it up to pregnancy hormones as you swallow thickly, marking up the map for your trip. If you remember correctly, it took about twelve hours--including stops--to get to Virginia from Georgia.

So, you should get there in a flash; what traffic is going to be stopping you? Well, the roads might be blocked, you guess you’ll find out. You trace a couple different routes, just in case before the annoyingly familiar groans of the undead echo across the concrete building. 

Folding the map up you sigh, “Let's get this show on the road.” You tap Baby’s hood twice before getting into the car, propping the map up against your backpack in the passenger seat.

The drive is…surprisingly nice, you popped in an old mix tape into the stereo, tapping the wheel in beat to every song. Only downside is the traffic--and people aren’t even alive, you’d think that’d be the one good thing about the apocalypse, but no! Roads are clogged with cars, some crashed and others just stopped, like everyone just disappeared. Back roads aren’t too horrible though, it’s nice seeing something alive, even if it’s just flora. 

 Nature comes a-calling around the fourth hour of the drive, pulling off at an old mom&pop looking gas station. The bell hanging from a sparkly ribbon jingles as you slowly push the door open, waiting in the entrance for anything, dead or alive. 

Nothing comes after a minute or two, so you continue in, looking around the small building; it’s in shockingly good condition. It’s pretty cleaned out, but everything is intact. Something bumps against your foot as you walk through the aisles, making you yelp. It’s just a soda can, you learn when you look down, letting out a shaky chuckle.

“Phew, we’re good,” you exhale aloud, squatting down with a groan to pick up the can. You run a hand over your bump when you stand back, smiling when she kicks against your hand.

To your dismay, the bathrooms are locked and you’d really prefer not to pop a squat in a bush. After a bit of searching, you find the key attached to a fly swatter behind the counter and finally get to do your do. 

You confiscate a bottle of hand sanitizer on your way out, slathering your hands in the liquid. As you pass the gas pump you figure it wouldn’t hurt to top off your tank, maybe fill a few cans; you just hope the damn things still have gas. 

“Moment of truth…” you mutter as you stick the nozzle into the fuel door, pulling the lever and hoping like hell. Gas starts flowing and you’re elated, bouncing between your feet as you go grab gas cans.

“On the road again, I just can’t wait to get on the road again,” you hum as you start driving again, feeling pretty good about everything.

The sun is shining, backroads are clear, gas tank is full, what isn’t there to feel good about? 

Eventually you have to get back onto the highway, but that high and mighty feeling still stays strong through the last five and a half hours of the drive--It doesn’t when you get to Atlanta. If you thought other cities were bad, then you don’t have a clue what to consider Atlanta. 

The sun had already set hours ago, so you decide it’s best to just pull over, get some sleep and try to brave the mess that once was Interstate 85. Sleep comes easy, considering; it’s a warm summer night, muggy as all hell though, but you got a good few hours before the sound of horse hooves awoke you--Horse hooves?

You sit up hastily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you look out the window to try and identify where the clopping is coming from. You get eyes on the horse and realize it’s definitely not wild, it’s got a rider.

A guy, you think, adorned with a cowboy hat and a bag of something slung over his shoulder. His head turns and you shrink into the backseat, hoping he didn’t see you. He did, if the way the horse’s footsteps seem come closer with every passing moment; maybe he’s just passing by--He’s not.  

Something metal taps against the car window (a gun, it’s a gun, oh no, he’s gonna shoot you), “Hey, I can see you in there; I don’t mean harm,” says a faint country accent. 

You have a half thought of reaching for your gun, which stupidly still lays in the front seat, you’d be dead before you grabbed it, so you can be reasonable. You tilt your head up, meet with a man wearing a sheriffs--not a cowboy, okie dokie--hat, something of a hesitant, sheepish smile revealing pearly teeth.

“I’m going to sit up, and turn around.” you inform him, raising hands in surrender as you very slowly sit up. He may’ve said he doesn’t mean harm, but you don’t want to risk any sudden movements. 

He watches tentatively and you do the same, staring at each other for a solid minute--maybe he is a cowboy, you swear this could be a scene out of an old western. His eyes rove over you, searching for weapons or you assume. A protective hand instinctively goes to your stomach, shielding your baby from his scorching glare.

“You’re pregnant?” are the next words out of his mouth; they’re quiet, almost worried, you could barely make them out through the glass. It takes you a second to answer, it’s not like you thought nobody would notice, you’re five months pregnant, but you hoped it wouldn’t be super obvious.

“No, I’m just super fat,” you retort, scowling as you roll the window down, “What'd you want, cowboy?” 

That makes him snort, shaking his head slightly, “Cowboy? Nah, my name’s Sheriff Rick Grimes, you?”

You continue scrutinizing the man, a deep frown pulling at your lips. He looks friendly enough, looks can be deceiving though. You lean into the front seat, popping open your glove compartment and grab your ID, passing it to--Rick, apparently. 

“You’re an officer too?” oh yeah, you forgot you keep your badge in your wallet. You nod slightly, snatching the wallet from his grip, deciding he’s had more than enough time with it.

“Was, an officer.” you correct, watching him just laugh at you like this is a perfectly normal interaction, water cooler chat. “In case you haven’t noticed, the world’s gone to shit, I’m not an officer anymore, you’re not a sheriff, we’re survivors, that’s it.”

“Ain’t you a ray of sunshine?” he quips, raising his hands in mock surrender as he catches sight of your unamused expression. “Well, sunshine, need a ride into the city?”

You go to say ‘no,’ but pause for a moment. A horse is probably easier, fits between cars better, quieter, it’s not a bad idea. Trusting him though? Could be. You could kill him, take the horse, but that’s a little bit much, you reckon.

“Ugh--yeah, a ride would be, huuugh, nice.” you concede, deciding if he were to kill you, it’d be a better way to go than to have your flesh torn from your skin. You wave your hand out the window, getting him to move so you open the car door.

Joints pop as you exit the car, crackling when you stretch and walk over to the passenger side to grab your bag. You tick a mental checklist as you gather your belongings--knife, in your belt, gun, on the other side of your belt, bag, over your shoulder, yep. You’ve got everything. 

The metal of the car is warm as you caress her, “I’ll be back, Baby, I promise,” is what you mumble to the car whilst you press a kiss to the roof. 

Rick’s eyebrow raises slightly, clearing not understanding the deep bond between a person and their beloved car. All he gets in return is a glare whilst you hike your bag higher onto your shoulder, shuffling over to his horse. 

“Well? Let’s go, cowboy, we’re losing daylight!” you nag, causing the sheriff to hurry over, clicking his tongue. 

“You’re impatient, anyone ever told you that?” he questions rhetorically as he pulls himself onto the horse, sticking a hand out to help you up.

Your, seemingly permanent, glower is directed at his hand, like it’s a piece of filth as you hoist yourself onto the horse. The animal nickers and starts trotting once more; instinctively your hands go to Rick’s shoulders to keep from falling off the horse.

“Sooo… What’re hoping to find in Atlanta?” Rick asks, looking over his shoulder to look at you. All you do is shrug, not wishing to speak to him--even if you did, you don’t know what you’re hoping to find.

He nods slowly at your non-answer, “I’m tryin’ find my wife, Lori, and my son, Carl,” he informs you, making you feel bad at the fact that he’s opening up.

You blame pregnancy hormones for the guilty feeling, “You having a boy or girl or do you even know?” is the next thing you register from his mouth.

You decide to answer this one, “A girl, found out the day this shit started.”  you reveal, throwing him a bone with the extra tidbit. His head bobs along with your words, trying to keep an eye both on you and the busy road.

“I always wanted a little girl. Give Carl someone to protect when he gets older, y’know?” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. How old is he--Carl, I mean.”

“‘Bout eleven; shit, by now he’s probably twelve.”

“How’d you get separated from your wife and kid?”

That makes Rick pause, and you start backtracking. It’s none of your business, you shouldn’t have asked. He snickers at your stammering, shaking his head.

“It’s ok, don’t worry; I was just trying to figure out how to word it.” he explains, scratching the back of his neck, “I got shot on duty--none of us realized there was a third guy--sent me into a coma. Next thing I knew I woke up and half the world was dead and my house was cleared out.”

You wince slightly. Damn, that must suck, you didn’t have any friends when this started, so you didn't have anyone to worry about. You couldn’t imagine being in a coma for months then waking up and the world’s ended and your family’s gone.

“Ooh, that’s shitty, man. Really. Hope you find them.” you apologize, awkwardly patting his shoulder.

“That makes two of us.” he agrees, falling into focus as you hit the city limit.

The streets are clearer in the city, apparently nobody made it into the city. You look around, tightening your grip on Rick’s shoulder in worry as you turn the corner. Suddenly the horse is bucking upwards, tossing both of you off of her. It takes a moment to realize why you’re on the floor, but the second you see the horde you're panicking.

“Rick, hey man, up! We’ve gotta go.” you yell, grabbing at his shoulder. Unlike yourself--who luckily landed on your bag--Rick got knocked on his ass, clearly winded as he only stares in horror. 

Undead start growling, getting distracted from the now dead horse, stumbling towards fresh meat. It’s cruel, but you leave. You spin, looking for somewhere to run, eyes snagging on a tank. It’s a short sprint to the military vehicle, but a vague struggle to climb up, barreling down the hatch and yanking it shut.

You can barely catch your breath before growling fills your ears, a zombie soldier crawling towards you. Before you can even try to scream, a shot rings out followed by arguably the most painful ringing noise. 

Your head whips around, finding Rick holding his ears, gun in one hand. If you could hear yourself think, you’d yell at him. What kind of idiot shoots a gun in a tank? A metal box? He could’ve blown our eardrums out! He also saved your life, so he gets a pass.

“Thanks.” you gasp when the ringing finally subsides, rubbing furiously at your temple. He presents you with a shaky thumbs up, against the opposite wall you’re leaning on. “Sorry for leaving you out there,” you whisper, peeking an eye open to look at him.

“You’re good, I would've done the same if I could’ve--no offense.” he admits, lazily waving a hand through the air. 

You chuckle, shaking your head, “Trust me, none taken.”

You’re ready to just pass out here in the tank, yet Rick still seems loaded, drawing the peek-a-boo hatch open, staring at the scene outside. He mutters something you can’t quite hear, relocking the hatch and sliding back down. 

“The weapons bag…my walkie…” are the few distraught words you manage to catch, shutting your eyes.

It’s silence between the two of you for a long stretch until the radio crackles. You think you’re hearing things since Rick didn’t seem to hear anything, but it crackles again. Rick hears it this time, nearly getting whiplash with the speed he turned his head. 

He looks at you for confirmation, to make sure he’s not crazy. He’s not, unless you’re both hearing things and going insane. You nod, wiggling over to kneel next to him in front of the radio when it crackles a third time; a voice comes through this time.

“Hey, you two. Dumbasses. Y’all in the tank. You guys cozy in there?”

[mushrubes]

Compass

Masterlist | The walking dead Masterlist

Requested : No

Song : Compass - The Neighbourhood

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Afab! reader (No use of Y/n)

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : fluff

Contents : mutual pinning, slightly canon divergent, best friends + grumpy + sunshine :)

Word count : 2.8k

Have a great day / night !!

If I don't have you with me, I'm alone You know I never know which way to go

A sigh of relief left your lips as you watched the walker in front of you drop to the ground with an arrow in it's head. "C'mon, this way." he instructed, pulling you along with him. You followed the male, watching your steps and making sure to step over the roots in the ground and bodies. "I'm sorry." you grumbled, grunting to yourself as you felt like you were holding him back. Daryl was a great survivor - hell, he was the reason the pair of you were still alive since the outbreak started.

"Nothin' to be sorry for." he responded, shrugging it off as you walked through the trees, now at your temporary camp. "There you are." Carol gasped, checking you over before pulling you into a hug. "I'm okay, Daryl found me as always." you joked, seeing him frown as he knew you were trying to make light of the situation. He nodded slightly before walking back to his tent where Merle was sitting, shaking his head. "You're going soft, baby brother." he taunted, sending you a sickening smile.

"Shut up."

----

I think I need you with me for all-time When I need new direction for my mind

You sat there, bouncing your knee anxiously. Rick, Lori's supposedly 'dead' husband had shown up and helped the rest of the camp on their run. Yes, you were happy he had helped but in the process, they had left Merle on the rooftop. In the city that was currently swarmed with walkers. As expected, Daryl hadn't taken the news lightly. Even though Merle could be an absolute asshole (a massive understatement) sometimes, he was blood and the others needed to understand that.

"I'm going to talk to him." you mumbled, loud enough for at least Carol to hear over the hushed arguments between Rick and Lori. "Are you sure?" she asked, wrapping the blanket around her tightly. She knew you meant well, but when Daryl was mad, he often said stuff he didn't really mean. "I'll be fine." you assured her, letting her take a deep breath before agreeing, watching with a cautious gaze as you approached him.

"Dar?" you called as you approached him, watching him turn around with anger, his face softening when he realised it was you. "Hi." he spoke, it coming out as a whisper. You grimaced, sitting down next to him, leaving a bit of space between you. "He'll be okay. We'll go find him in the morning, Rick said he'll come." you tried to comfort, Daryl humming in response. "He's the only other family I've got." he spoke up, voice cracking slightly. There hadn't been many times where Daryl had been this vulnerable - the only other time you could think of was when you were teens and you'd seen the marks he'd received from his father. And just like then, this broke you. "Who's your other?" you asked, confused as to what he was referring to.

"You"

----

You listen to my lectures on the phone

"Absoluetly not." Daryl argued, shaking his head at your idea. You scoffed, looking at him in confusion. "Why not?!" you huffed, eyebrows furrowed as you waited for his reasoning. Last night, he had agreed to you helping them with finding Merle and now he was suddenly against it. "It's the least I could do! I can't stay in this camp." you defended, holding your head in your hands and laughing in disbelief. "Too many walkers." he spoke up, placing his bow down next to his tent. "There's walkers around us every day. What difference does this run make?" you reminded. There was not a single day where there wasn't a chance you could fall victim to the walkers - but not him.

He had sworn to himself since the news of the outbreak, he'd keep you safe. Not that he had ever told you, but he didn't care. It didn't matter if you felt the same and would do anything for him, you were his priority, and he'd do everything in his power to keep you safe. And that meant leaving you here. "I can't lose yer as well." he raised his voice, regretting it as he realised the tone it came out in. You had froze, either because of the tone or what he had said, and it killed him to not know which one. "Daryl-" you spoke up but he cut you off, getting up and making his way into his tent.

"Jus' stay here, please. G'night."

----

Breakfast was different to normal. You had been relatively quiet, the rest of the group noticing something had happened between you and him but no one dared to ask. He was more tense, a mix of fear for Merle and also because of the whole incident that had happened last night. You finished your food up while the group got ready, all piling into thie vehicles. "Daryl, hurry up." Rick warned, watching as he picked his bow up. "I'm comin'." he bit back, putting arrows back in his quiver. You looked at Carol and Lori who both gestured their headds towards him making you sigh.

"Daryl, wait." you huffed, tanding up and walking over to him. He raised an eyebrow, facing you as you stood a few steps in front. "Hm?" he grunted, you gaze glancing between him and the group waiting behind him. Emotions got the best of you, wrapping your arms around him as he tensed up, not expecting you to hug him. "Be safe." you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up. Eventually, he wrapped his around your waist, head on yours. "I'll be back, I promise." he assured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away and giving you one last glance. As he walked away, you failed to catch a glimse of the gentle blush that had settled on his cheeks.

----

You help me find the treasure in the hole

It had been a few days since the Greene family had let you settle on the farm and Sophia had gone missing. You had all noticed the shops in town and realised the group would be needing a stock up on food soon. "Who wants to go?" Rick sighed, looking around as some of the group muttered amongst themselves. "I'll go." you offered, needing a break from the area. Once again, it had gotten a bit suffocating, tensions high amongst the group between each other and your hosts. Shane stepped forward, going to say something before Daryl cut him off. "If you go, I go." he ushed, looking at you and then at Rick who shrugged. "Okay." he smiled.

----

Handing him the hairpin you had on you, he moved it around, pulling the chains and lock once he felt it open. "Stay close." he ordered as you walked in. "If you want me near you, just say that." you teased, grinning as he rolled his eyes at your words. "Shut up." he huffed, walking along checking the shelves. Most of the shelves were empty or the food was way off, alreay rotting away. "Here." you spoke up, jogging over to the other side where a bunch of cans caught your eye.

"Holy shit." he gasped, seeing the amount you had found. It wasn't the best food, but it was enough to last you longer than you thought it would. "Let's get it back." you suggested, seeing it was starting to get dark slightly and he hummed in agreement, picking up the cans you couldn't and walking behind you, a hand on your back guiding you back to his bike.

You had put them all in the container you had brought with you, attached to the back of the bike. He sat down, waiting for you to join on. You sat behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist hesitantly. He moved them slightly, making your grip on him tighter. "If yer want me near yer, jus' say that." he mimicked, laughing as he got revenge for your antics earlier.

----

You'll tell me if I'm acting like a fool

"What're yer doin'?" Daryl questioned, turning Carol to face him with a grip on her arm, earning a glare from you. "Keeping an eye on you." She responded, looking up at him with a worried look in her eyes as you watched them interact. "Ain't you a peach." he grumbled, circling her. "Daryl." you warned, shooting Carol an apologetic look. "We're not gonna let you pull away." you huffed, knowing he was having one of his rants.

"You've earned your place." Carol commented, turning his attention back to her. "If yer spent half yer time mindin' yer daughters business instead of stickin' yer nose in everybody else's, she'd still be alive!" her raised his voice, standing right in front of her. You let out a gasp, looking at him in disbelief. You went to say something but she raised a hand, silently assuring you it was okay. "Go ahead." she egged on. "Go ahead n' what?" he asked, stepping back slightly. "Man, jus' go. I don't want you here." he bit, swinging his arm up.

You looked between them frantically, scared it was going to escalate. "You're a real piece of work, lady. What you gonna make this about my daddy or some kinda crap like that?" he continued, watching as she didn't let her emotions show. You intertwined your hand with carols, squeezing it for a second. "You know Jack. You're afraid, you're afriad 'cause you're all alone. You got no husband, no daughter. You don't know what to do with yourself." he ranted, making you have enough and try and pull her away. "Let's go." you whispered, looking at her in concern. For a split second, you were sure his face altered, seeing how much he had upset the pair of you.

"You ain't my problem. Sophia wasn't mine. All you had to do was keep an eye on her." Daryl shouted, a wince coming from Carol. A silence set over, the pair glaring at one another as her hand tightly gripped yours, now squeezing it more than ever. He looked down, guilt filling him slightly as he saw your hands connected. "Go." you ushered softly, pulling her as she looked back in concern, seeing you not follow her. "I'll be there in a bit." you assured, watching her retreat back to the house, standing on the porch just to keep a careful eye on you.

"There was no need for that." you spoke, turning back to Daryl whose expression didn't falter. "It's the truth." he murmured. You sighed and looked at him, still in disbelief. "That was her daughter. You should know how it feels." you reminded, cautiously taking a step back as you mentioned his brother, seeing him look down. "She's probably struggling to process it all. Our luck was going to run out eventually, don't blame her." you defended, Daryl not responding. You scoffed, knowing he wouldn't apologise. "Find me when you're ready to apologise. I'm starting to think you're just the same as your brother." you grumbled, walking back to the house. He stood practically glued to the spot, watching as you both disappeared into the house not sparing him a look. Now he had messed up.

----

I know that you're not something to lose, now

"Where are they?" Daryl asked Carol, riding back as he made sure to get away from the walkers that had practically taken over the farm. "I don't know. They...they were with me and we got separated." she admitted, feeling his body tense up. He continued going, his head feeling light-headed as thoughts raced through. What if you weren't safe? What if no one found you? What if you had gotten bit and either already turned or become their meal? "Don't jump to conclusions, I'm sure she's with someone. She's strong." Carol tried to convince him, as well as herself as the anxiety ate away at the pair of them.

----

"Can we just wait a little longer?" You tried to convince Hershel, not wanting to leave until you had found the others. Your group was strong, and you refused to believe that you four were the only survivors. As if on queue, you heard the familiar growl of the engine approaching, a gasp leaving your lips as the familiar bike pulled up, with the two people you were closest to. Another car pulled up behind them, more people visible followed by another vehicle. Hershel smiled, squeezing your shoulder as they all pulled up, everyone going to their people.

Carol pulled you into a quick hug before crouching down and hugging Carl. You leaned against the car, letting Rick greet Daryl before he climbed off his bike. You were caught off-guard when you felt him wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly to him. "Thought I'd lost you." he mumbled, his hands cupping your face as you rested yours on his wrists. "Not that easily, Dixon." you smiled, allowing him to press a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into him tightly. His head rested on yours, swaying you slightly as he caught Carol's eyes, who raised an eyebrow at him knowingly.

Maybe he was soft for you.

----

I've got something to confess I keep you in my pocket to use

Changing into the fresh clothes that had been put out for you, you made your way back up to the cells, taking two portions of the food that had been made and thanking Carol and Hershel. "Can you go and check on Daryl?" Carol whispered, nodding as you knew she was just slightly worried about him considering the past few days. Carefully holding the bowls, you made your way up the stairs, seeing him laying on a mattress he had dragged out onto the perch, his eyes closed.

"Hey." you smiled, holding a bowl out to him as he opened his eyes, sending you a thankful smile back. "Carol wanted me to come check on you." you informed him, sitting next to him on the mattress as he moved slightly, giving you space. "'m fine." he chuckled, shaking his head. "I know. She just cares about you. And so I." you said softly, eating your food as a comfortable silence settled.

Once you had both finished, he put his bowl on the desk, holding his hand out for yours and stacking them before returning back to his previous spot. "You sure you're okay?" you asked, earning a smile from him. He held an arm up, gesturing for you to move closer and putting it around your shoulders. "Better now." he grinned, making you huff as he chuckled, seeing the heat rush to your cheeks.

"I care about yer too." He admitted, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I mean it." he paused, when he saw you weren't convinced by him. He knew he wasn't the best at expressing things nor showing any emotions but he was sure he'd do anything for you. He opened his mouth, going to speak but getting cut off by Beth. "Sorry, uh, Lori asked for you." she informed you before heading down, over to the food. You smiled apologetically at Daryl, moving away. "I'll come back later, okay?" you commented, earning a hum from him. You pressed a kiss to his cheek before getting up and walking over to the cell she was in, his eyes not leaving you once.

----

You're my only compass

You kept your promise, returning to Daryl after you had finished with Lori, chatting about whatever came to mind until you had both given in to the much-needed sleep. Daryl was leaning against the wall, a pillow behind his back, while you were cuddled up to him in his arms, his grip firm but tight.

"Are you sure?" Glenn asked, whispering and looking back at Maggie who nodded. He pressed the button, cursing as the flash went off due to the slight lack of light in the area, waking up Daryl. "Go away." he grumbled, not opening his eyes. Glenn placed the polaroid carefully in his arms, before running back down the stairs. Daryl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he stretched, feeling the photo. He stared at it for a few minutes, scoffing and then smiling to himself.

"What are you smiling about?" you asked, nuzzling your head into his neck. "Nothin', just somethin' Glenn took." he shrugged going to put it down. "Show." you asked, curious as to what it was. You mirrored his smile as he showed you, seeing the photo of the pair of you in each other's embrace, sound asleep. Peaceful - something that was rare nowadays. "Get him one when I'm awake, don't keep that." you moaned, Daryl shaking his head as he grinned at you.

"Na, gonna keep this one, pretty girl." he smirked, resting his forehead against yours and his eyes darting between yours and your lips. "Kiss me." you whispered, Daryl, wasting no time in connecting his lips to yours, your stomach filling with butterflies as a spark went off. You knew, no matter what happened, you'd be safe with him and he was home.

I might get lost without you