#girl dad daryl

[lovesicklovermia]

𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡

﹒﹒ ﹒summary - after a difficult few days on the road in the heat, you're left feeling down about motherhood, and the wellness of your daughter. thank goodness your husband noticed.

﹒﹒ ﹒set in - season 5, before the storm

﹒﹒ ﹒pairing - daryl dixon x reader

﹒﹒ ﹒ content inclusions - dad!daryl dixon, mom!reader

parched whines, which for once were not released from the walkers mouths, had been all you’d heard for several hours. guilt, expanding and wrapping around your lungs like ivy trellis. your baby girl, just like rick’s, was hungry, and innocent. bob had said, before his life ended one solemn night, that the world ‘was going to change’, for he could tell by the pure appearance of you, as well as your leaders, young children. nowadays, it was difficult to tell whether she’d change the world, or if she’d still be fulfilled, well-rested enough, and most importantly, happy enough to do so.

pregnancy, around the same time as lori, the dear woman who was lost too soon, yet lost too far back to recall the days events without a hazy vision and mind, and without an elicited sob. you seemed to sob all too frequently lately. your baby did too. 

it seemed that, for so long, both judith and your baby were cooed and fawned over, yet, in closer days, it seemed coos and giggles were replaced by rumbling stomachs, and sighs of absolute defeat. it was honestly surprising that many of the members of the team hadn't given up completely, yet you supposed they each had their reasons to stay alive. father gabriel, by his faith. abraham, for rosita. maggie, even in her damaged and devastated state, for glenn, and for affirming and keeping beth, and herschel, and everyone’s memory alive.

as for your husband? well, for your baby, of course. she was a joint creation, and that was abundantly clear, for she possessed your husband’s bright blue eyes (although a teasing michonne assured that all babies had blue eyes), and your nose and lips. he loved her with every inch of his redneckin’ heart, and despite the sweaty heat of the summer months, he’d held no obligations to wearing a scarf wrap, an easy way for you to smile gently at your baby. of course, he was terrified of sneaking walkers, for your baby seemed to hold the ability to be forever calm and docile in whichever situation was thrown at the girl. 

he’d been terrified of you slipping away from him since day one, yet through the struggles and hardships of the last couple of months, his team had hardly had paid attention to the tears you shed when people glanced at your child for too long, if they asked if his baby girl had been fed, or anything remotely questioning on the livelihood of your child. yes, you knew she was struggling - you knew she deserved to grow up in a gentler world. the world had been no kinder than it was before, yet now previously closed doors were open, and horrific individuals were free to roam.

you’d heard all about it. you’d heard the horror stories - hell, if it wasn’t for your husband shielding you from the troubles, you would have experienced quite a few days of misjustice yourself.

instead, your only misfortunes came from your mind, and the guilt that ate away at your heart. from too many moments that you felt your baby was going to starve, or dehydrate, or even perish from boredom. it had been too many days, far too many, and as you, for once, held the baby to your chest, wandering aimlessly down the straightforward road, you couldn’t walk in silence much longer. speaking to your baby, carol had once told you, was the ‘best way your baby could learn to love you’. yet, with the way things were going, there was nothing left for her to love. you felt practically skin and bones, and your stomach rumbling was now occurring constantly - it hardly stopped. so, today, as you spoke quietly to your baby, you spoke words that seemed easily generalizable. 

‘you been having so much fun?’ was the first words that escaped your lips, projecting lies immediately onto your child. oh, lord did this feel manipulative. your child was a victim of the apocalypse, not a resident of a soft play centre. something of a frustrated sigh escaped your lips, as your child only stared at you, reaching out to tap at your neck. it’d be easier if she just cried - at least she’d still be showing signs of active participation.

‘your mama - i think she’s stopped - i think, maybe -’ yet you couldn’t so much as choke out the words, without an angry tear slipping down from your eye. ‘maybe i’ve stopped trying for you, and i haven’t realised, and-’ the rest of the group were further back, far enough back that you could sit yourself down on the road, holding your baby up, so you could clearly see her red, heated cheeks, and sweating head. ‘i’m really sorry, but that’s not enough, and-’ 

a familiar tap of a foot behind you, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut momentarily. this wasn’t how parenthood was meant to be - your husband, your child’s father, walking in on you holding up your baby and crying over her lack of food and drink. yet, here he was, and his reaction was worth waiting for. 

you, from the burning sun, were practically sizzling, so he approached with such gentleness, it only made another small sob escape your lips. ‘yea, i know.’ he mumbled, placing a dirtied, yet, to you, incredibly gentle hand on your wrist, reaching over to press a quick and soft kiss to his baby girl’s forehead. ‘i know, i know, but-’ 

and daryl paused. you hadn’t expected that. he could spew out pointless lies with the best of them, but with you, he could never. his pause delivered truth into his next words. 

‘you’re doing the best you can.’ it was enough for you to melt, because although it didn’t feel enough, from such a hard-working individual, it felt, indescribably, a message that provided safety to your beating heart. ‘for us, and for ‘er, and for the future of-’ he gestured back to the group, all gathered aimlessly. ‘our baby will know the choices we woulda’ made, if we coulda’.’ you couldn’t disagree with that. it wasn’t your fault that streams didn’t flow nearby, that it was summertime, that the berries on bushes had already been picked. 

cupping a hand around your back, the archer wasted no time in gently assisting you to stand, before lifting his baby’s body to his hip. a soft crinkle from her nose, and an even softer sneeze from the girl, and you couldn’t help but both let out a tiny, fortunate laugh. and as a splotch of water fell upon your shoulder, then another on daryl’s crossbow, then a final one on your daughters head, you quickly gained the most amount of hope you’d ever felt, let alone after days of hardships.

‘an’, anyway -’ your husband continued, throwing your daughter slightly up, before catching her and chuckling at her squeals. ‘we don’ need mother nature. we’ll just tell baby that you control the weather, how about tha’?’ the squeal from his daughter, and the grin from his wife felt better than any amount of rain, but he supposed he’d keep that to himself.

[ladymacbeth-writes-sometimes]

He’s such a girl dad I need him to fuck a baby into me

[pxstelmxsings]

It is two am. Everything else is quiet, but for him and his precious daughter. The world falls asleep so they can share this rare moment. From sharing silly sounds, smiles, and her late night bottle. Come morning time he'll be called out on another mission. Will he return home by evening? No one truly knows.

It is five fifteen am. Her little hands reach to grip his shirt. His roughed and scared hands ever so carefully brush her tiny locks of hair from her eyes. He knows he should be rocking her back to sleep, but just a moment longer if bounding won't hurt.

It is two thirty am. He spots your sleep figure in the doorway to the nursery. By now, the daughter you blessed him with starting to fall asleep. He tiny eyes fighting the sleep away. Maybe she also knows how important these moments are.

It is two forty am. He finally settles her back in her cribe. Slowly, he backs into the hallway with you. The door closes halfway but not fully, never fully. The two of you share a warm smile before returning back to bed.

⋆˚࿔ Daryl, Rick, Nanami, Gojo, Logan, Arlo, Stein, Naruto, Kisame, Kakashi, Aizawa, Shigaraki, Dazai, Roy, Lotor, Shiro

[lilgoblinbitch]

The Archer Finds a Soulmate 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

girl dad!daryl dixon x fem!reader

a/n: this idea was offered by @yummymeee !! was trying to find fluffy daryl prompts and this one stuck with me.

summary: Daryl is a father of a young girl and has always had trouble trusting new people. When he meets you, everything changes.

warnings: none really, typical twd stuff, just some angst and fluff at the end :)

Daryl Dixon was left raising a child in the apocalypse. He didn't expect to find himself taking care of a baby all by himself after the mother of his child ended up hiding it from him, and on her death bed begging Daryl to keep the baby safe. Of course, Daryl would love his baby girl till the day he died. She was the light of his life. She was the only thing left in this cruel world that reminded him of what made life worth living.

Five years after the start of the apocalypse, Daryl was extremely lucky to have been part of a large community that actually showed not only him, but his little girl, charity and companionship. All he wished for was a safe home and chance for his daughter to grow up happy. Because he never got to have a happy childhood himself, it almost felt imperative for him to manifest his own happiness and prosperity by giving his own kid that opportunity.

"Jasmine! Get outta that pile'a crap and c'mere!"

The five-year-old girl lay on her back in mound of dirt and leaves, swishing her arms and legs back and forth. "Daddy, look! I'm making a dirt angel!"

Daryl scoffed as he peered over at his daughter, who was collecting bits of leaves and sticks and dirt in her hair and probably covering every inch of the fabric of her outfit. An outfit that Carol had recently washed, because it originally got stained with orange juice and pudding. Unfortunately little predicaments like that were bound to happen to any little kid. It didn't bother Daryl, he just didn't want to put more of a burden on Carol.

Daryl stood up from the log he was sitting on, setting the dead rabbit he was working on skinning to the side. "Jas! Ya want food or not?" He called out, waving the playful child over to him. She perked her head up at him, her dark curly hair now decorated with bits of colorful leaves and sticks, almost making her hair look like a Christmas tree in some way. The child obeyed and jumped up from the ground, shaking off the dirt that layered her clothing. And of course, they needed to be washed again.

Joining her father by the fire, Jasmine plopped down on the log across from him and simpered at him. He smiled back after examining her youthful grin and spotting the smeared dirt on her face. "Ya got dirt on yer face, silly girl. Here, wipe yer hands and face with this." He handed her a towel, one that was adorned with pink and purple flowers. She loved that little beach towel. She snatched it out of her father's hands and hastily rubbed it all over her face and hands, then tossing it on the ground. Daryl sighed in distress.

"How many more things of yers we gotta ask Carol to wash?"

"We're outside, daddy. There is dirt, and you say dirt makes us dirty. So it's got to make everything else dirty, right?" Her enthusiasm never failed to make him grin and forget what he was even upset at her about.

"A'ight, watch me, ready?" Daryl grabbed the dead rabbit and continued skinning it, making sure Jasmine was watching him. Her face contorted in disgust.

"I don't wanna do that, daddy! It's gross and it hurts the rabbit."

He ignored her complaining and continued skinning it. "It's dead already. Didn't feel any pain, I promise," he reassured the child. "I just needed to show ya how yer dad makes yer all-time favorite food: rabbit stew."

The little girl shook her head. "No, my favorite food is Carol's cookies, and the Kingdom's cobbler!"

Daryl rolled his eyes, finishing up skinning the rabbit and then sticking it on a stick and placing it over the fire. Throughout their meal, Daryl told her about the time he first ever had to eat rabbit, and how he was around her age. His daughter was always absolutely thrilled to hear stories, especially from her father. She admired him more than he realized. And she looked forward to every Thursday afternoon, because that's when Daryl took her out for walks in the woods, pointing out various plants and showing her how to differentiate between animal tracks and walker tracks. Of course, she was too young to fully understand everything he taught her, but it made him more comfortable knowing that she was learning early on.

Some nights Daryl lay awake, tossing and turning only to say "fuck it" and go out in the woods where he could ease his mind, while his daughter was already fast asleep in the room across the hall. He loved being alone in the woods; just him and no one else to disturb him for a few hours.

However, one night he ended up acquiring company from an unexpected individual: you. Daryl didn't know very much about you, besides the fact that you joined Alexandria not too long after he and his group did. You were quiet and reserved, always keeping to yourself and never being found in large crowds because you were always more content when alone. Daryl often found himself following you into the woods to see what you even did out there, but you were just too quick to spy on. And truthfully, you were afraid of Daryl. You had seen how similar he was to you in some ways; his love for nature and serenity and the comfort of being isolated from the loudness of the community you lived in. You observed him going into the woods and not coming back out for hours, just as you did. He ended up becoming a valued member of Alexandria as he helped Aaron recruit new members to the community. He was becoming more outspoken than you, and that seemed to make you nervous.

Tonight, curiosity got the best of you and you decided to go and see what it was that Daryl the archer father did late at night in the woods, all alone.

Daryl did not anticipate anyone to be as good of a tracker as he was, especially in the dark of night. But being the daughter of a hunter father ended up advantaging you with that skill. So when he heard footsteps and prepared to send an arrow flying and landing between the eyes of a walker, but ended up being face to face with you, he was surprised to say the least.

"Hey, um, Daryl right?" Your flashlight beamed onto his face, and he squinted. "Sorry," you turned it off and shoved it in your pocket, "I just, um...I always see you out here, and I'm always out here, so..."

"So what?" Daryl wasn't in the mood for visitors, especially not annoyingly beautiful women such as yourself. You made him nervous.

Daryl kicked the dirt around with his feet, not looking up at you as you continued to speak to him. "Look, I'm not really a people person, and you probably want nothing to do with me because I never talked to you before...but I–" you stopped to look down at the dirt and shuffle your feet in it as well, involuntarily mimicking Daryl. "I dunno, I just need a friend, I think."

You could feel Daryl's eyes on you now, the glow of the small fire illuminating his auburn hair and the specks of hair on his beard. You swallowed hard, becoming a nervous wreck under his hard gaze. "Why me?" Was all he managed to say after studying your face. You finally made eye contact with him after mustering up the courage to do so. He had pretty eyes.

"Because I think we're alike in a lot of ways." You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and leaned against the thick tree beside you. "And honestly, you're one of the only people I know of that has better tracking skills than me," you added, voice soft and unsure. Unsure of what the mysterious man in front of you was thinking. It seemed like he had so much going on in his head all the time, and that's because he did. His thoughts raced, thoughts about you and how pretty you looked under the sparkling fire and why the hell you were talking to a loser single dad like him.

But you didn't see him like that. You were intimidated by him – always have been, except this time he intimidated you in a way you never expected. He made you want to open up to him, because you could tell now that he was just like you. You went your whole life never wanting to be seen by anyone, but Daryl changed that.

Daryl's lack of words left you in your thoughts once again. What if that was his sign for you to scram? What if he hated you? What if he thought you were a fucking creep for sneaking up on him in the middle of the night in the woods? You couldn't handle the fear of rejection so you took matters into your own hands.

Sighing in defeat, you turned on your heal and started for the other direction back to Alexandria, until you were abruptly stopped in your tracks.

"Wait."

Daryl did not wish for you to leave. He believed you. You were like him. "Ya wanna come hunting?"

Your eyes lit up in elation, and you smiled at him. "Yeah, I'd love to."

After a only a few weeks, you and Daryl became friends. He properly introduced you to his daughter Jasmine, who when meeting you for the first time told you, "You're pretty!" It melted your heart. Yours and Daryl's friendship grew drastically from then on. You respected him a lot, as he did you. The two of you were able to teach each other things about nature and hunting that the other had no clue about; you taught Daryl which herbs were best for different things, and he taught you how to shoot with a crossbow. Of course, your bow and arrow and your dagger were just enough for you already, but it pleased you to know that Daryl actually wanted to teach you.

Soon enough it was evident that you and Daryl were growing a deeper connection than the two of you originally anticipated. But somehow you weren't scared of it. You felt content around him, and it was clear that he felt that way about you, too.

"Jasmine!" Daryl called out, frantically searching the woods for his pesky little daughter. The sun was setting over the tree line ahead of him, clouds painted orange and pink. It was going to be dark soon, and he had no idea where his daughter had run off to.

Daryl found his feet moving on their own, eyes shifting around his surroundings while he attempted to track the footsteps of his daughter. "Jas! C'mon let's go!" Suddenly the sound of a twig snapping filled the air. His heartbeat quickened, and his paternal instincts kicked in. He raced toward the sound, crossbow at the ready.

He was just about ready to shoot whatever was hiding behind the tree but when he saw you walking with Jasmine he stopped in his tracks, lowering his weapon. You and Jasmine both glanced up at him simultaneously, and the little girl ran up to her father and hugged him. A sigh of relief overcame him as he bent down to hug her back. You beamed down at the two of them, admiring how touching the sight was.

"Where were ya?" Daryl stood back up, moving his focus between both you and his daughter. You could tell he was trying his hardest to stay calm, but the fact that his daughter was running off in the woods without him made him feel uneasy and on edge.

"Don't worry, I found her by a stream back there. She told me she wanted to learn how to catch frogs," you reassured him. He grinned and looked down at the girl, who was carrying a red bucket full of croaking amphibians.

"Look how many I caught, daddy!" She lifted the bucket up to Daryl and he peered into it. "Well someone's a professional frog catcher now, ey?" He teased.

The three of you reached the gates and Jasmine hurriedly ran down the street to the other kids outside. You smiled and turned to Daryl, who was already staring at you. You blushed and looked down at your feet.

"Sorry, I should have told you she was with me. She just seemed so excited and I couldn't say no, so–"

"Nah. Don't need to apologize," he interrupted, reaching his hand up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. "I, uh, thank you, fer watchin' her."

A gentle breeze drifted through your hair and you brushed stray strands out of your face, all the while Daryl shifted his weight and gathered the pith to express his feelings at that moment. He needed to get it off his chest.

Your doe eyes only impelled him further.

"Uh..." his anxious eyes finally met your passionate ones. "I think Jas might enjoy having ya over fer dinner t'night."

This time you tittered, nodding your head enthusiastically. "If this is your way of wanting more of my company, just say it, Daryl." Your face muscles seriously ached from smiling so hard. "I... I like you. And I would love to come over, honestly, any time."

Daryl's face flushed a shade of pink you'd never seen on him before. It made you giddy. "I like ya too."

That moment felt so cliche – it felt like you and Daryl were part of a silly teenage romcom film. But you two earned that cliche moment. You were surprisingly capable of harvesting a healthy connection with someone who really meant a lot to you.

The magnetic pull between the two of you grew stronger and stronger, reeling your body closer to his. Your hand instinctively brushed against his, making Daryl's insides mushy.

A smirk ran across yours lips and you grabbed Daryl's hand firmly. "C'mon, let's go make some food for tonight."

That evening you cooked venison stew for Daryl and his daughter, by gratitude of the huge buck Daryl scored earlier that morning. Secretly you loved to cook, but you'd only ever cook for someone who was special to you; back in the day you'd always cook for your father after he'd go out hunting and bring back game that gave you an opportunity to create a mouth-watering recipe. Today, that special someone was Daryl. You truly believed he deserved a decent meal from you after everything he'd done for you. He won your trust and respect – even more so your love.

"Thank you."

Daryl was sprawled out on the couch, staring up at you as you had finished cleaning up the dishes. He had already tucked Jasmine into bed up stairs, afterward coming back down to gawk at you.

You wiped your hands on a towel and set it on the counter, turning your attention the the comfortable man on the couch. "No need to thank me. I wanted to cook for you." You joined him on the couch, drowning in the soft cushion and taking in the homey vibe of his living room.

He sat up, turning his body toward you. That expression was painted on his face again – the one that told you he was doubting himself, or that he was trying really hard to articulate his emotions. You took his hands in yours, a decision that caught Daryl by surprise. "You don't need to doubt yourself anymore. I know what you're feeling, trust me."

Your reassurance kindled the spark of courage Daryl so desperately needed. It was as if you were his god, his creator – the one to send him the message from the sky to tell him it was his time to listen to his heart. And so he did.

The archer's rough, calloused fingers traced shapes over the dry skin of your hands. Your gaze melted him like plastic by the fire, and the words your spoke to him spilled from your lips like a prayer.

"Kiss me, Daryl."

Carefully Daryl parted his lips while searching your face for any uncertainties; there were none. And so he kissed you. He kissed you like you were a porcelain doll, suppressing his strength as to not break you. He wanted this kiss to last forever, and so did you.

Daryl trusted his gut that you were the one for him, and boy was that the best decision he ever made right there and then.

[phoejade]

daryl dixon spoilers ! absolutely HAD to get this out but there was never one point in the daryl dixon show where i wanted him to stay in france. like genuinely annoyed when he did. you did not just see that your grandfather dying far from home led to your family feeling broken and abandoned and go “yeah these people ive know for 2 seconds are sooo worth not going home to my kids” who wrote that show. like i feel like it was using his character behavior from like season four. that was not seasons 6-11 of walking dead daryl. ew god. carol better fucking take his ass home. judith is WAITING for you. and connie!! maggie?? girl rick is ALIVE. like i was not feeling daryl being emotionally connected to those people even a fraction as he was to his family in the walking dead like yes he would stay and help fight of course but stay forever? that was so silly !!

[bluebellhairpin]

it's been years since i've had baby fever like this. I haven't felt such a strong urge to carry a child until now.

[tinysunshine]

━━━ ✧˖° 𝐃𝐀𝐃’𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒! 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 & 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋

‎ ‎[ 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 ]

kinks: daddy kink, loss of virginity, threesome, brat taming, ddlg elements, daryl is a little submissive, light spanking, dirty talk, oral sex, fingering, dumbification if you squint, mentions of slapping and manhandling

warnings and triggers: age difference, reader is a little annoying but she’s just horny, some angst and fluff, mentions of violence and death, reader is romantically involved with both men, reader is very feminine and pretends to be a little ditzy

word count: 19.7k

plot with porn, slight alternate universe.

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

you need rick to fuck you. daryl too, if you’re being honest.

it’s not fair that the world went to shit before you lost your virginity, and you’re still pretty pissed that on his death bed, your father made rick promise to look out for like you were his own daughter. talk about being a major cockblock, even from beyond the grave. and it’s just your luck that rick and daryl are the only two men you’ve ever met that would turn down a beautiful woman in her twenties who’s obviously desperate for them. they’re good guys - which, you guess, is part of their appeal. it’s so annoying.

both men frustrate you to no end, and it doesn’t help that you’re living in the same house with them in alexandria. living behind the walls in this community has made life so much easier - you’re no longer in survival mode, and you’re able to focus on other things…

like getting daryl and rick to fuck your brains out. or at least, pop your cherry. you’ve never trusted anyone as much as you trust these two men, and you want them. in every single way.

you just need to convince them.

Rick has a problem - and that problem is you. 

Which, okay - he feels fucking bad for even thinking that. You’re not a problem in the general sense of the word. He doesn't resent you, he doesn’t think you’re annoying, and he doesn’t dislike you. In fact, the opposite is true. 

He likes you a little too much, and that’s the fucking problem. 

He’s supposed to protect you. He’s supposed to keep you safe, keep you alive, make sure nothing happens to you - it’s his job to look after you. Rick swore to your father on his death bed, after a supply run gone wrong, that he’d be around to help you make the best out of life in this new, fucked up world; and he’s really fucking trying, but it’s hard. 

Rick doesn’t regret taking on that responsibility. Not at all. He’s known you for long enough now, knows that you’re a smart girl, and when your father died he didn’t want his friend’s final thoughts to be worries about what would happen to his daughter now that he wouldn’t be alive to look out for her. 

Gripping your father’s hand, Rick had tried to hold back tears. Your dad was a good man, strong, and more than losing a valuable member of the group - Rick was losing a friend. If your father’s death was that painful for him, after only knowing one another for a little over a year - he couldn’t imagine what you were going through. You’d always been close to your father, and the look in your eyes when you had to leave the room so someone could take care of him before he turned into a walker, well. Rick would never forget it.

Heartbreaking. 

Before your father was gone, Rick promised him that he would protect you. Yeah, you’re a grown woman, smart and strong just like your dad, with a good head on your shoulders and a helpful, fighting spirit. But even though you’re an adult, you’re still young, with the kind of reckless abandon and bravery that only the youth still have; the kind that’s constantly getting them into trouble. 

So Rick assured your dad, holding onto his hand as he took his final breaths, that nothing would happen to you. That he’d take care of you, look after you like you were his own daughter. It was the right thing to do, the good thing to do - 

But Rick didn’t anticipate how hard you’d make it for him to fulfill that promise. 

He didn’t think you’d be so, so. God, he doesn’t even fucking know. He doesn’t want to use the word to describe you, because you’re an adult, not a petulant kid - 

But you’re a fucking brat. 

He’s not sure if you’ve always been like this, and your dad was just able to calm you down enough so that the rest of the group didn’t notice, or if it’s a new thing you’re dealing with from the grief and the life changes that losing your father brought on. 

Rick’s not a psychiatrist. He doesn’t know enough about the moods of women to even attempt to get through to you, and he doesn’t have the nerve to ask you to fix your attitude when life these last few years has been full of constant, challenging changes for everyone - and he especially doesn’t want to ask for help or guidance from anyone else regarding these problems, because that would mean admitting he can’t control or handle the responsibility of keeping a young woman in check. 

He’s led a group of people through an apocalypse of the walking dead, and he’s letting a twenty something year old in pink sneakers get under his skin with an eye roll? 

No. He’d never admit to that.

Even if it’s obvious to anyone who sees the two of you interacting. 

Right now, Rick’s sitting in a chair on the porch of his home in Alexandria. It’s bittersweet, to have a semblance of normalcy. Had the group found this community back when your father was alive, he never would’ve died. Would’ve never had to make that risky supply run looking for something to help your fever and headache that led to him getting bit by a walker and ultimately dying. 

Having to be killed just to put him out of his misery. 

Rick’s trying to enjoy the feeling of normal on this porch, surrounded by his friends that are so close they’re like family - but deep down he knows that things will never be the way they were before the world went to shit. And the things he’s done, the things you all have done - they happened, and none of you can pretend that they didn’t. Life, every single one of you - will never, ever be the way it was before. 

He’s drinking a beer - okay, he’s on his third, trying not to let the negative thoughts weigh him down. The last thing he wants to do is flip the switch like he did last year, the one that turned him into a raging lunatic, so bad that Daryl had to beat his ass when he started to turn into someone he didn’t know. Back when he was a danger to himself and others. That can’t happen now. 

Not when he’s got a community of people to look out for. Not when he’s got you to care for. A clear head, enough mental agility to make rational decisions - Rick owes everyone that. He owes the group that. He owes you that. 

But why do you have to make his life so damn difficult? 

There’s a party in the community tonight, and even though Rick is more or less in charge of this place, this get-together wasn’t his idea. He would never plan something like this, even back when he was married and just a small town cop. Before walkers and danger lurked at every fucking corner. 

Rick can pretend all he wants, that he fits in or that this normal shit, a sort of block party in this case, was anything he missed, but it’s a lie. 

He’s hardened from all the time he’s spent outside - but he wants the rest of the group to try. To want this. This has always been the goal, the plan. Finding and living in a place like Alexandria. Right? 

So he’s on the sidelines, sipping beer and watching the rest of his group learn how to be proper humans again. It’s an outdoor thing, with kids in the community running around and food made with actual ovens and stoves, alcohol that’s poured into glasses and cups instead of sipped out of a dirty bottle found in a stranger’s leftover backpack while on the road.  

The street is blocked off with picnic tables and everyone’s being a touch too loud for this event to be considered safe, but Rick’s not going to ruin their fun yet. 

Because he’s watching the group - but his eyes keep falling on you. 

Just to make sure you’re okay, he tells himself, but in his tipsy mind he knows that’s a lie. 

You look damn good in the dress you’re wearing. 

To be fair, despite the filth and the starvation and the level of grime every single person in the group wore for months straight, you’ve always looked good. You’re beautiful, even when you’re covered in dirt without a trace of makeup on your face. Some women just have it, the type of body that fills out clothes like everything is made for them to wear. The kind of face, features - the raw kind of beauty that’s appealing even in the middle of the apocalypse. 

That’s you, Rick thinks, and he wonders why you chose to wear such a cute little number to this party when the rest of the women are wearing long pants. 

Maybe you’re doing it on purpose. Maybe you’re - 

Rick wants to slap himself in the face. He’s been feeling that urge, to get himself in check, whenever he thinks about you these days. 

He promised your father that he’d look out for you. Keep you safe. Protect you. Yet here he is, catching himself checking you out again, because yeah, this is definitely not the first time he’s noticed your figure. 

Your father - Rick truly considered him a close friend, and he blames himself for the miscommunication that ended up with him promising to look out for you like you were his own daughter. Your father just knew that Rick cared about you, which is true. Saw the way he was always willing to protect you, to defend you, to make sure you were taken care of. 

Must’ve noticed the long talks you two had, saw the way Rick so helpfully taught you how to shoot a gun without wasting all the bullets. The way he let you wear his shirt one day, because it was the only extra after getting caught in a storm and your own shirt was soaking wet, sticking to your body and - 

Holy fuck, Rick thinks, finishing off his beer and slamming it down a little too harshly. He can’t think about that. Can’t think about the way your tits looked in that wet shirt, the way your body felt, warm and soft when he pressed up behind you and gripped your hand, showing you how to properly use a gun. The way you hugged him, cuddled into his side while he gave you advice and you had your long talks, because you wanted the wisdom of someone mature who wasn’t your father. 

He’s not a bad man, he swears. Rick’s never been attracted to a woman as young as you at his age, and he hates himself for it. It’s wrong, but he can’t deny the magnetic attraction he feels when he looks at you, thinks about you, is around you. It’s chemical. 

Plus, he reasons to himself, trying to avert his eyes when you bend down to pick up something off the ground. That dress is way too short, and although Rick really isn’t looking (lie), someone else notices, and Carol steps behind you to hide the free view of your purple, little panties that you’re giving every man at this outdoor party. 

Rick doesn’t know if he should thank Carol for covering you up or tell her to move. 

Your father - he must’ve misread those moments between the two of you. Thought, because of your age difference, that Rick was just being fatherly towards you - because any man his age with a conscience would never be attracted to a woman as young as you. It probably didn’t even cross your father’s mind that Rick thought of you as anything other than his friend’s daughter. 

Which makes him feel even worse. 

You’re not bent over anymore, and you and Carol share a laugh about the length of your dress while Rosita teases you and Maggie walks over with two glass bottles of beer in her hands. You’re quite the social butterfly.

Rick can’t hear clearly, but he thinks he makes out someone asking where he is, and you spin around looking for him, looking so cute and clueless and Rick hates himself even more because why is that confused look on your face so fucking cute? 

When you spot him on his porch, you point and then grin. Like he’s your favorite person and he’s been lost for much too long and you’re so excited to finally find him - when in reality, you just haven’t spoken in maybe thirty minutes. Rick doesn’t know why you’re smiling so big looking at him, but he can’t deny the way it warms him up. His face, his neck, a good feeling that spreads down his chest and goes directly to his cock. 

You wave, all happy, with a little bounce in your step when you raise on your toes to properly see him over the porch railing, and Rick is so fond it makes him sick. The wave, the pretty smile, the enthusiasm. It makes you look so young, so beautiful, and Rick can’t stand how much he likes it. 

How much he likes you. 

He waves back, just as Maggie comes up the porch steps and hands him another beer. She asks if he’s going to join the party soon, or if he’s playing the part of Daryl since even the lone wolf himself is sitting with a few other people at a picnic table, although his face is deadpanned and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Rick laughs. 

When Maggie walks off, Rick notices that you’re still watching him. Not at all listening to whatever Carol and Rosita are talking about. It’s like you were waiting, to capture his attention again - and once you have it, that smile returns and you blow him a kiss. 

And Rick? God, he’s such a fucking idiot. He feels like such a creep. But it’s not like he can ignore you, because what kind of person would do that? You’re just being sweet. That’s all. And he’s just excited because your sweetness is a nice break from how fucking bratty you’ve been all week. 

Rick repeats that excuse in his mind like a mantra.

He pretends to grab the kiss, face red at how juvenile this is, and then he blows one back. He’s drunk now, he’s sure of it, and he’s embarrassed that he’s even playing this game with you.  

But you look so satisfied when you grab his kiss, and you hold it in your palm and don’t open your hand, like you’re saving it. And that - goddamnit. Rick’s going crazy. You’re too fucking sweet, you’re too fucking pretty, you’re too fucking good for him and you’re too young for him and -

Rick catches Daryl’s eyes over the porch. It’s hard to read him, but it’s pretty clear he saw that. The exchange. The way he looks between the two of you, the little tilt of the corner of his mouth. He knows - he knows something. 

Rick tips his new beer back and swallows, shaking his head. 

Yeah. He’s got a fucking problem, alright.

────

Daryl is not this guy. 

This guy, being the kind of man that thinks about a woman your age in an inappropriate way. It’s unlike him - but it’s unlike him to think about romance and sex at all, to be honest. He’s always been too busy for that shit. Too busy surviving, taking care of himself. At the end of a long day, all he can think about is going to sleep so he can do this human and living shit again the next morning. 

And that was before the fucking apocalypse of walkers. 

After the world was overrun with them, romance and sex were even further out of his mind. Nothing hot about sneaking off in the woods or to an abandoned building to fuck in a room that smells like decaying bodies. Daryl has no idea how Maggie and Glenn do it, can’t believe that Rosita once let Abraham fuck her on the floor of an old church they were staying in, with walker guys splattered on the wall next to them. 

Which is saying a lot, because Daryl doesn’t even have a weak stomach. Doesn’t get grossed out by things most grown men would have a fit over. It’s not his style. He just can’t picture ever wanting to fuck bad enough that he’d do it while living in a world like this. He doesn’t think with his dick - fuck, the truth is? Sometimes he used to wonder if it even still worked after all the shit he’s been through. 

But...things have changed since the group got to Alexandria. After a few months, with no starving and with a pillow and a mattress to sleep on, being able to close both eyes instead of just one during the night - Daryl is starting to notice that his priorities are changing. Bit by bit everyday, he’s slowly turning into someone he doesn’t recognize - and that scares him. 

It terrifies him. 

Alexandria is nicer than any place Daryl has ever lived before - like, way nicer. Before the apocalypse, he’d never even be allowed within fifty miles of a community like this, he thinks. There’s running water, warm water, and he’s starting to get a little scared that he, along with everyone else from his group, are getting a little too used to these luxuries. 

He finds himself waking up with a hard cock whenever he sleeps in his own bed. That’s the first sign that his body is adjusting to...comfort? Every single morning, without fail, he’s hard. Except when he goes on his recruiting runs with Aaron and he’s forced back into a tent on the cold ground. But when he comes back from those runs, it doesn't matter how many days he’s been gone, the next morning in his own bed always means he’s going to have to change his boxers. 

Can’t exactly go around Alexandria with his precum dried in his pants. 

Daryl doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like, this, this - what does he even call this? Health? Finally feeling like he belongs somewhere, so his body can let down its guard? 

He’s worried, about what that means, because as nice as this new little community is for everyone - it might not last. That’s a total possibility, and he’s getting way too soft with all this hot coffee with creamer and warm meals and electricity. Fuck this place (he thinks, somewhat fondly). 

So, Daryl’s fighting back. 

As of late, he’s starting to refuse getting used to this place. Will go a week without a warm meal and will head straight out to the woods to eat a raw squirrel or frog whenever he finds himself excited about spaghetti for dinner. If he finds himself jacking off under the warm water in his shower, eyes closed while he enjoys the smell of eucalyptus from his bar of soap - he’ll curse and hop right out, head straight back into the woods to rub dirt on his clothes and get mud under his nails again. What kind of fucking man notices the smell of his soap? 

A man that dies when things get bad again. That’s who. No, Daryl cannot have that happen. Fucking stupid soap. 

He throws it in the trash can and goes back to the almost gone, orange and white looking bar he’s used for the last year. Unscented. 

But everything he’s doing - there’s just no point. No matter what Daryl does, how uncomfortable he makes his own life, his dick is still getting hard. 

He got mad at Rosita during breakfast the other day for wearing those fucking tiny shorts of hers. He’s not even attracted to her - she’s not his type at all, and then when Tara joined them at the table, obviously not wearing a bra, Daryl cursed at them and stormed off. Told them to put on some fucking clothes. He doesn't think either of them are particularly hot, but his dick does. Sees a pair of long legs these days, a jiggle of breast, the round shape of a woman’s ass - fuck, the color pink, and his fucking cock is ready to go. 

Daryl can’t even remember the last time he had sex. Because sex doesn’t really matter these days, and Daryl doesn’t want it to matter. He doesn’t want manners to matter either, which is why he won’t even join the rest of the house for dinner after he caught himself putting a napkin on his lap. He can hear Merle’s voice in his head when he remembers to chew with his mouth closed - goddamn, he’s supposed to be a survivalist. Not a suburban douche. 

Obviously, he’s going fucking crazy. He would say he’s having a hard time adjusting - but it’s kind of the opposite. Daryl’s adjusting to life in Alexandria much easier than he expected, and that’s what’s crazy. 

And you - that’s where his real problem comes in. You’re driving him fucking insane. 

You’re living in the same house as him, you’re constantly around, and Daryl doesn’t know what to do with the emotions you bring out in him. He tries to avoid you as much as possible, but you’re always around the corner, usually seeking him out. When thoughts start swirling around in his head, his stomach, his dick, all of them relating back to you, he tries to drown them out with beer or something harder, tries to distract himself, tries to tire himself out so he has no room or time to think about you. 

But he’s starting to realize that, unfortunately, the only way to get you out of his mind is through his dick. And that’s only a temporary solution, before he sees you do something else that’s sexy, like existing, and he’s back to where he started. 

Wraps a fist around his cock in the middle of the night, jerking himself off to the thought of you, biting the inside of his cheek so nobody else in the house can hear him - cheap ass new construction with the thin ass walls. Everything pisses Daryl off these days, but maybe he just needs to get laid. 

But deep down - he thinks, no, knows - that his problem is you. 

When Daryl first met you, he didn’t like you. Thought you were annoying, saw your girly appearance and assumed you’d be a dead weight to the rest of the group, but your father was someone that the group would be lucky to have. Military training, big and strong and smart. Daryl loved that guy, almost as much as he cares about Rick - and he was devastated when he passed. If someone like your dad could die, it meant anyone could, but watching the way you handled yourself after his passing made Daryl really start to think of you differently. 

He started to respect you. See you beyond just a pretty package that talks too much and wastes too much water and snores so fucking loud you’re like a siren alerting the walkers right to everyone, at least before the group arrived behind these walls. You’ve, in a way…grown up? Right before his eyes. You’re kind, you’re pretty helpful when you want to be, you’re smart, even if you play up the ditzy princess role for attention, and Daryl’s not actually not sure how old you are, just that you’re in your early twenties, and, well. 

You’re fucking hot. Look like a woman from the posters Merle would hang up on his bedroom walls back when he was still alive. Daryl never did any shit like that, feels bad even noticing your beauty, but, hell - 

He’s definitely not the only one. 

He walks into the living room, because he has to if he wants to get to the front door. Daryl wants air, and you keep lighting fucking candles that some dumbass gave you as a welcome gift in the community, and they smell too sweet and they make his throat itch, and the smell fucking wafts up to his room. Daryl wants to smoke, too scared of Carol bitching at him again if she sees him from the house next door, out his window, putting his cigarette out on the freshly painted window pane. Women. Toxic fucking candles are cool, but cigarettes, a necessity that's almost as important as water, are a no go? Utter bullshit. 

Daryl’s already dreading having to interact with you when he sees you on the couch. You’re sitting criss-cross, in a dress, and at this point he thinks you have to be trying to show off, but maybe not.

Why would you? Not like you’re around a bunch of young dudes or anything. Maybe you’re just that comfortable around the people in the house, and if that’s the case, well - that makes Daryl a little happy. You annoy him, sure - but he cares about you like he does everyone from his original group. 

Wouldn’t hurt you to put a bra on or close your legs more often though. Better yet - close the fucking door to the bathroom when you take a shower. Daryl’s getting heated, in more ways than one, just thinking about your carelessness. 

Rick’s sitting on the couch next to you, his elbow resting on the arm of the sofa, his head halfway in his hand. You - you’re chatting his ear off, as you always do. “It’s kinda keto, you know? Eating just meat. That’s partly why we’re all in such good shape, Rick. I swear with all this pasta and canned food we’ve been eating since we got here, I’m going to gain a million pounds,” you stop when you notice that Daryl walks in. Rick looks up, lifts his hand in a meek greeting at him, and attempts to say something but you cut him off. 

“I was just telling Rick about the keto diet. You know, just meat, no carbs. You’re sort of keto, Daryl, before we got here at least, it’s-” Daryl cuts you off. He doesn’t want to get involved. Doesn’t want to look you in your pretty eyes and feed into whatever fucking verbal whirlwind you’re on about, because someone really shouldn’t let you drink coffee but you’re too damn grown to have someone monitor your caffeine intake, but he literally can’t stop himself. 

“What the fuck ‘re you talkin’ about?” He deadpans. “I’ve never been on no fucking diet.” Rick snorts in reply, and you smack him on the arm. 

“Hey,” Rick warns, voice a little too loud and too stern for the move. You’re pretty tiny - not like your violence could hurt him, but you turn your pretty pout into a neutral expression at his scolding anyway. “Enough. Stop worryin’ about gaining weight, and just be happy you’re alive,” he reprimands, shaking his head. 

This time, you scoff. “It’s a joke, Rick,” you mutter, suddenly uncomfortable with your vulnerable sitting position. You shift and sit normally, but there's still way too much skin on display in a room with two men twice your age. You cross one leg over the other. Daryl’s drawn to the soft skin of your thighs, your little foot in a bright white sock, the bottom a little dirty.

He sees Rick literally shift his position to get a better view of you sulking. Arms crossed, which inadvertently pushes your tits up and makes them sit high. Where the fuck did you even get a dress like that? What suburban mother in this neighborhood had clothes for - 

Nah. Daryl’s not going to go there. You look good, and he’s not the only one who thinks so. 

But that’s obvious. Everyone around Rick, around you, around you two together can see it. Daryl hopes he’s not that fucking obvious. The funny thing is - Rick thinks he’s slick. That nobody else sees the way he’s all starry-eyed, like a fucking cartoon character whenever you’re around. 

He pretends like he hates it, shouldering the responsibility of looking out for you. Like he can’t stand all the cute little knick knacks you’ve managed to collect from the other women in Alexandria, scattered around the house, like he’s so annoyed when you ask to sleep in his room whenever the amount of walkers at the gate gets so big the entire community can hear them while they sleep, like he’s bothered whenever you get tipsy and fit yourself right next to him, warm body pressed into his side. Ask him to open jars for you like you’re not strong enough, when everyone’s seen you bash a walker’s head in with an empty wine bottle and kill a bird with a stick for something to eat.

The best one, was when Rick made a huge commotion about having to teach you how to shoot a gun, as if you weren’t the daughter of a former military legend who managed to survive this long. Daryl actually laughed at that, wondered if you were truly playing Rick, or if he knew your incompetence was just a lie to get closer to him, and he played along because he wanted the excuse just as much as you.

You play the role well, Daryl will give you that. Whenever Rick comes around, you’re…softer. Sweeter. You play dumb. Daryl doesn’t know why, although maybe he does, just doesn’t wanna admit it because it’s wrong. 

Isn’t it? Or maybe he’s just fucked up. Maybe you really do see Rick as a sort of surrogate father figure since your dad is gone, and if that’s the case, well - it makes sense that you might try to make yourself seem like you need him. Maybe you really do. What the fuck does Daryl know? 

Just kind of weird, ‘s all. You’re too hot to be acting like that. And Rick - Daryl’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to play this game with you. 

He clears his throat to interrupt whatever tension is going on between the two of you. Doesn’t want to see Rick groveling to get you to behave, or the opposite - because if he hears you beg, well.

Daryl's not going to chance it. Thinking with his dick lately, remember? He starts walking to the front door. 

“Wait,” you say, because of course you do. Daryl thinks about pretending like he didn't hear you, but you get off of the couch and manage to get behind him, soft little hand on his bicep while you try to stop him. “Where are you going? Can I come with? I wanna see the sunset,” you explain, and shit. What a cute fucking sentence. Daryl literally hates himself. 

“Not going sunset watching,” he grumbles, pulling his arm away from you. Your delicate, tiny touch is burning his skin. “This ain't a vacation,” he adds, because someone around here has to be the negative one, right? This world is still fucking shitty, even in this little piece of protected suburbs. Rick calls out your name. 

“Leave him be, go find something useful to do,” he orders, and Daryl doesn’t even have to look at you to know you’re rolling your sweet little eyes. Again, he has thoughts that make him berate himself. Sweet? Eyes? He’s two seconds away from going next door and asking Abraham to kick his ass just to bring him back down to reality. 

“Stop telling me what to do all the time,” you bite back, and just to stop the bickering, Daryl relents. Not like he was doing anything anyway, just wanted to go for a little walk to clear his head, check the wall and make sure the new adjustments to it are still intact, still keeping this place safe. 

Being able to keep his head on straight for a night would’ve been cool, but here you go, using all that feminine charm on him to get him to do what you want. No wonder people in the olden days thought sexy women were witches. Maybe they were onto something. 

“Jus’ hurry up and grab a jacket, kid. Shit,” Daryl curses, and you practically squeal and run up the stairs, going to your room to put on some shoes and a little coat. To be fair, when you’re not around Rick - you’re not so fucking immature. You’re always cute, nice, smart - but Rick brings out thoughtlessness in you that’s truly insane to witness. Sometimes it’s like you’re a different person.

When you come back down with your jacket on, which isn’t a jacket but more of a little white sweater, you actually go back to Rick to say goodbye, pat his arm while Daryl watches his attempt to be cool, even when it’s obvious that your presence, anytime you touch him, sends him into a panic. Daryl knows that feeling. Rick stands and grabs a handgun from a drawer next to the couch and hands it to you, because that’s a rule around here. Every adult needs to be armed when they’re walking around. 

You roll your eyes. Again. “Would’ve been safe with Daryl,” you grumble, and that’s true, but knowing you think that makes Daryl almost jump out of his skin. It’s…good. Shit, you really confuse him, and you’re only a young little thing. 

He can’t imagine the power you’ll hold when you get to be his age. If, no - when. Because you’re going to make it. Rick promised your father you would. Daryl didn’t promise him anything, but it’s still important to him too.  

“Bye, Rick,” you say, before following Daryl out the door. You’re halfway off the porch when Rick stands in the doorway, seeing you off. He doesn’t say anything to Daryl, doesn’t need to, but he does call out to you. 

“Don’t ask for a cigarette, you hear me? Don't do anything fuckin' stupid,” he warns, and you just laugh out loud, slide the gun that he handed you into your boot. Daryl doesn’t get it, the dynamic between you two, but it’s weird and awkward and frankly, a little hot. Maybe he’s more like Merle than he thought. 

You walk to an empty area of Alexandria, somewhere you can sort of see the sunset. He fishes his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. What good is being outside if he can't have a smoke?

“Want one?” Daryl grunts, and you giggle and take it, because yeah, Rick told you not to smoke, but Rick ain’t his daddy. He ain’t yours either - but as Daryl lights up, he supposes that Rick… sort of is?

He nags you, protects you, takes care of you. Made you move into the room next to his so he could keep a closer eye on you. Daryl's pretty sure he heard Rick tell you to eat your vegetables the other day, and whenever you hurt yourself he's always the first one coming to you, gently fixing up whatever little wound you might have.

Maybe you want that. The Daddy thing. Maybe you like that. Maybe -

Daryl’s a sick bastard. Must run in the Dixon DNA. 

You nod, but before he can give you your own, you just grab it from his lips, almost burn your finger while you do it too. You get pink lip gloss on the cigarette, and you never end up giving it back. Such a bratty, spoiled thing to do. Would be enough to start a fight, where Daryl’s from, being greedy like that - but you're fuckin' cute and you know it. You know the power you have, and that's a turn on for Daryl.

And yeah, he could easily reach back into his pocket, get his own cigarette, but he’s content. Dick halfway hard in his pants, watching a beautiful thing like you look all pretty and pink and proper, smoking on a cancer stick.

Daryl doesn’t know what comes over him when he says, “He’s too old for you, ya know that, don’t cha?” He’s talking about Rick. Obviously. Is not at all (lie) trying to gauge your reaction to an older man. Isn't inadvertently (another lie) trying to figure out if you're purposely bending over, just so he can see your cleavage on full display while you pick a flower growing in the grass by your feet. 

You smile, taking a final inhale then tossing the cigarette on the ground and stubbing it out with the toe of your sneaker. Deanna’s going to kill you for littering so shamelessly.  

You shake your head, blow out the smoke. “No, he’s not,” you say, taking the flower and putting it behind your ear. You lock eyes with Daryl. “And neither are you.”

────

Living with you requires a special kind of patience that Rick doesn’t have at his age. 

Honestly, he doesn’t think he’s ever had the kind of patience required to live with someone like you. Although, patience and restraint could be interchanged in this scenario. 

You’re driving him crazy. 

There’s four rooms in his designated house in Alexandria, but the house still doesn’t seem big enough. Your presence is suffocating to him, in the best way possible, but it’s overwhelming when he’s got so much on his plate. The safety of the entire community is a big responsibility, and his focus has to be on keeping people alive and fed and prepared, in case something happens. 

Rick feels like he never gets a chance to breathe, with someone somewhere always wanting something from him. And it’s not like he can relax when he gets home, either - because you’re there, and Rick physically cannot calm down around you. It’s not your fault. It’s just his body’s natural reaction to you, and maybe in another world that would be something amazing, but in this world it’s wrecking his nervous system. 

God, he really sounds like an old man these days. It’s a good reminder that, in comparison to you, he sort of is. 

It’s been a long day. Rick’s walking up the stairs, ready to collapse into his bed until he’s inevitably woken up again in a few hours for something the people in the community could handle on their own. He’s literally yawning, resisting the urge to rub his eyes when you quickly round the corner and try to scamper down the stairs around him. 

As if that would work. The houses in Alexandria are big, much nicer than the home Rick lived in before this whole mess started, but a staircase is still a staircase. Too narrow for the both of you to squeeze past each other without touching. 

Rick grabs your wrist to stop you, not hard, but you whine like he just tried to saw your arm off. Such a dramatic brat. Instead of rubbing his eyes, Rick resists the urge to roll them now. 

There’s no curfew for the residents of Alexandria, not really, but there’s no point in leaving the house after dark. Your group has spent a year wishing for a safe place to lay your head at night, and being outside this late just seems foolish and unnecessary. 

And a little suspicious. 

And - Rick is nosy. He hates how frail your wrist feels in his hand, so he drops it, and gets a good look at you. “Where are you goin’?” He asks, annoyed at how fond he feels when he sees your bottom lip poke out. 

You’re pouting. You’re pouting and he hasn’t even nagged you about anything yet. That’s a new record, for sure. 

You shrug, and the movement draws his eyes to your chest, where your tits bounce ever so slightly in your tight, little tank top. Rick can feel the wheels of brat moving in your mind, and he lets out a breath because he knows whatever is about to come out of your mouth is bullshit. It always is, whenever you speak to him. 

It’s clear you love to rile him up, although he’s not sure why. Maybe you see him as a safe place to get your frustration out - he’s the closest thing you’ve got to a parent these days, so maybe giving him a hard time is coping skill or something. 

At that thought, the parent one, Rick lifts his eyes from your chest. He hates that when you’re this close, he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume or shampoo or whatever it is that women use to smell delicious. He hates that when you’re this close, he can see the twinkle in your pretty eyes, the sparkle of whatever product you have on your lips that makes them look so soft. He hates -

Well, most of all, he hates himself. For noticing these things. For thinking these things. He can’t even reason that he knows every detail about your face because he’s known you for so long - because he’s known Maggie and Carol and shit, Daryl, even longer than you - and he truly can’t even recall the color of their eyes. 

This attention to detail - it’s definitely a you thing. 

You quirk a brow, one that’s perfectly arched. You must’ve spent three hours in the bathroom when the group arrived in Alexandria. Rick remembers that you waited for everyone else to have a turn rinsing off, just so you could take your sweet time after everyone already went to bed. You guard the scented shampoo that Deanna left for you with your life, and the bathroom care package someone dropped off the first week, that came with tweezers and razors and mouthwash. Rick knows you made nice with the other women in the community just to ‘borrow’ the perfume that they had before the start of the apocalypse.

It’s cute, and the femininity you’re showing in this community has Rick almost forgetting all the times he’s seen you smash a walkers head in or eat from a can of uncooked ravioli with your fingers - which was a luxury find a few months ago. Crazy how fast life can change. 

“Just getting some water, Rick. Why do you think I’m going somewhere?”

Well. Rick didn’t think about that. The kitchen is downstairs. 

But Rick knows you better than that. Apparently, he pays more attention to every single thing you do than he even realized. If you were just going to get water this late, you’d be in your pajamas - which is more often than not, a pair of boxers and a shirt that's much too big for you. You swiped them from Daryl’s room when someone from the community brought everyone a fresh change of clothes - you’ve really gotten comfortable here. 

Right now you’re not wearing anything comfortable, and that’s how Rick knows you’re lying. That little tank top, no bra, the tiny pair of shorts you’ve got on - how fucking stupid do you think he is? You’re wearing shoes - he knows you’re planning on leaving. 

Which is fine. You’re allowed to. But you’re also his responsibility, and he’s beyond tired, and there were more walkers by the walls today, and - you know what? Rick’s not letting you off this easy. Call it payback, after your fit yesterday in front of Deanna and Abraham, when you stomped your cute foot and called Rick a control freak since he wouldn’t let you go on a run yourself. 

He can give you a hard time too. So he does. “I know you’re lying, and you’re not leaving the house tonight. It’s too dangerous,” and that’s not really true, but your bottom lip juts out again and then you cross your arms, and that just irritates Rick more because now you’re covering up his view. Fuck, he’s really sick, isn’t he? Maybe he just needs to go to bed. 

He should just let you go out. Move out of your way, so you can pass him on the stairs and go where you want to go so bad, wherever that is. Carol and Sasha are patrolling, and there’s a card game at the house in the center of the community where Glenn and Abraham and Maggie, as well as others, are all together. You’d be fairly safe if you went out for a walk, and truth be told, Rick isn’t really worried about your safety right now. 

If he’s honest with himself, deep down - he just doesn’t want to let you out of the house in that fucking outfit. He’s got to talk with Deanna, tell her to tell whoever’s in charge of the clothing in Alexandria to give you a bra and some shorts that fit. Christ, he thinks, running a hand down his face in pure exhaustion and frustration, because you quickly head down the stairs after he tells you no and he can clearly see the bottom of your asscheeks, round and firm and - damn. Those shorts belong in the fucking trash or on a pedestal where Rick can properly thank them. 

“I’ve got plans,” you say, pretty mouth no longer pouting, but pulled into a cheeky smile. Rick realizes that you’re pleased, because you’re already getting the attention you wanted from him, without him even realizing it. He follows you down the stairs so you’re both standing in the living room now, and Rick’s too old for all this bickering, too tired, but he plays along anyway. Knows this is just a game, to terrorize him, because you’re a little menace and you enjoy pissing him off. 

And shit - he can admit it. It feels good that someone like you wants his attention this bad. So he'll play along.

“Yeah? Well, tell me what they are. Don’t be shy. Where the hell are you goin' dressed like that?” Rick’s falling into the trap, because he’s fucking stupid, because you make him stupid. He could easily walk back upstairs and go to sleep just as easily as you could walk out the front door and do - whatever the fuck it is you want to do right now. But you’re both standing here, two adults arguing for no reason, and that’s when Rick realizes why he even entertains your little tantrums and ploys at getting him to argue. 

Maybe he just likes that someone is brave enough to question his decisions. You make him feel human - like he’s more than just a leader. 

You uncross your arms, and Rick wishes you didn’t. He wanted you to a minute ago, but now he just wants to run upstairs to his room to pull out a shirt and pair of boxers to force you to wear, to hide that figure of yours that was only made hotter from all the fucking physical activity the entire group did every day for a year. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Rick. God, stop being such a freak. I’m just watching a movie with Daryl.” 

Your answer knocks the wind out of Rick, because now he knows you're really up to something. Wearing that, to watch a movie with Daryl? It's shady, and yeah, Rick knows that you like Daryl. Everyone can see it.

You love to tease him and torment him, say things to make him blush, and if Rick's not around you cling him to like a teddy bear, ask to follow him around and help him with runs or whatever needs to be done. Rick always just assumed you had a little crush on him - which was sort of cute, in a weird way. Showed Rick that you like older men, and out of everyone - Daryl's harmless. He wouldn't act on any stupid thoughts, and probably doesn't even think of you in that way. He's a good guy.

Unlike Rick, apparently.

Even your father could see it. When he was still alive, when the group was constantly on the move, Daryl carried you on his back for miles, told Rick that giving in was better than hearin' your bitchin'. Rick still remembers the look on your father's face when he saw Daryl put you down that day, his posture fucked, dripping sweat - and he still handed you his water bottle before he even got a sip.

"She's somethin'," your dad said with an eye roll, although fond. You were the apple of his eye, but even your father knew you could be a goddamn handful.

Now though, with the possibility that your little crush could be more, Rick feels weird. Uncomfortable, an emotion burning in his chest that he realizes is - no, it can't be -

Jealousy? He feels weirdly possessive, he -

Hears the garage door close, then heavy footsteps, until Daryl’s standing on the other side of the room.

“What’s all the ruckus? Was just cleaning my bike,” Daryl starts, a little disturbed at the way Rick looks like he’s about to have a heart attack or crumble to the floor in frustration. He steps further into the room a little tentatively, before his eyes look to you, and suddenly Daryl is glad that he’s learned to control his emotions so they don’t ever register on his face. 

Because your outfit - if it can even be called that…well, Daryl’s starting to realize why Rick looks like he’s about to have a nervous breakdown. 

Daryl can’t help himself. He says it without even consciously realizing it, asking, “Where the fuck you goin’ dressed like that?” All while pretending to be casual, wiping motorcycle grease off of his hands with a dirty towel he brought in from the garage. 

Daryl’s comment must send you over the edge, because you huff and groan and then run upstairs, slamming your door like a fucking teenager. 

It’s silent for a second, with just the two of them in the living room, before Daryl breaks the silence. “What’s her problem?” He asks Rick, who stays silent for so long, eyes closed and a hand over his face, that Daryl wonders if Rick even heard him. 

But then Rick laughs. The kind of laugh that stems from being so irritated, instead of breaking something all he can do is angrily chuckle. Now Daryl is really confused, but Rick isn’t. 

You were lying about watching a movie with Daryl, as Rick expected, and he shakes his head. The outfit and the shoes to pretend you were going somewhere and the attitude were all just to rile him up. He thinks he's starting to realize why you want to get a rise out of him so bad, and it makes his stomach turn and his dick chub up in excitement.

“She said she was watchin’ a movie with you,” he explains, which only further perplexes Daryl, because he doesn’t watch movies, and you were wearing shoes - but he knows when to leave a situation alone. Whatever you and Rick having going on - that’s between you two. 

Daryl turns to go back to the garage, and Rick’s about to walk up the stairs when the sound of your bedroom door opening is heard, and then a few light footsteps. Both men brace themselves because you’re sure to have something to say now. 

It’s sort of cute, although neither one of them would admit that they like this attitude - that you needed to take a minute to gather your thoughts just to come up with something nasty to say back to Rick. 

“Daryl,” you call from the top of the stairs, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to hang out. We could've gone for a walk, or watched a movie, or - anything! Rick’s just so mean, he doesn’t want to watch a movie with me and,” Rick stomps up the stairs and you squeal. Daryl bites back a laugh at the way you act around Rick, a smile spreading across his face that he’s glad no one else is around to see.

It’s weird, that he finds you so fucking charming. You’re annoying as shit, but it’s endearing, and the way Rick acts around you - like a human, instead of a tough robot - it's nice to see. He keeps that to himself, not going back to the garage until he hears Rick tell you to go to bed. “I just wanted to watch a movie,” you whine, and as the door shuts, Daryl hears Rick. 

“Watch one? In that outfit, looks like you’re trying to make one. Quit lyin' and put some fuckin' clothes on.” 

────

Just like that, everything changes.

All thanks to that little outfit. God bless Deanna for sending over those little shorts that you cut even smaller, and those tank tops you took from the community closet that were definitely meant for someone younger than you - but they did the job you needed them to do perfectly. 

That outfit changed everything. It got Rick, and Daryl, to see that you were only trying to show off. That everything you’d been doing, especially since you got to Alexandria, was just to get their attention.

And yeah, maybe that makes you feel a little pathetic. It’s the end of the world, and all you’re thinking about is how to seduce your late father’s close friends, but there’s another way of looking at that too. For instance, you could literally die tomorrow. So could Rick, Daryl - anyone. Every single day that you go to bed, you know that it’s all just luck. Like winning the lottery. So why not have fun while you still can?

In your opinion, that should be everyone’s viewpoint. 

The next morning, after your little lie about watching a movie with Daryl, Rick made sure everyone was out of the house so that he could talk to you. He found you in the kitchen.

“He’s too old for you,” he says, all parental and bossy in a plaid button down shirt, hand on his hip. He reminds you of your dad a little, with the disapproving tone and the stance. Back when your father used to disapprove of every fucking guy you brought home for him to meet. It’s funny, although depressing, and even though you didn’t have the best relationship with him, thinking about your dad now that he’s dead hurts. You shake the thought and the memory from your head, scooping a spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth. You shrug. 

“Daryl says the same thing about you,” is your reply after you swallow. Rick lets out a big sigh, always a drama queen, but you love that you have him where you want him. Jealous, maybe. Seeing you as someone beyond just his late friend's daughter. You’re a woman that a lot of people want, and Rick should know that. Should feel lucky, that you like him so much and want his attention so badly. Sometimes you honestly think that Daryl and Rick are a little ungrateful about all the attention they get from you. 

“Yeah, well, he’s right,” there’s a pause, like Rick doesn’t really want to say what he’s going to say. You look up at him, blink your eyes slowly in a way that you learned gets men get flustered, and Rick stutters as it comes out of his mouth, he sighs after he says it. “You’ve gotta stop this.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. What Rick means to say is: You’ve gotta stop coming on to him and to Daryl. To stop being such a tease, to stop acting like a little harlot that needs to be punished and fucked so bad she’s running around one of the last standing suburbs in the United States with her panties showing and her tits out. 

You get it, really - you do. 

You just don’t want to stop. 

“Stop what, Rick? You know I’m attracted to you. To Daryl. I literally can’t be any more obvious. Why can’t I have a little fun? Does it seriously bother you? Or is it just your morals getting in the way?” Not to sound like a selfish, immature brat - but you’re pissed at your dad for freaking Rick out. Before he passed, you really were getting closer with Rick, spending all your free time together, sort of affectionate when nobody else was looking. You’d stay awake with Rick at night to talk, you’d go for walks with him, go on runs whenever you were allowed, help him with whatever he needed. 

You were getting somewhere, and your dad’s final dying wish took all your hard work and dumped it in the trash. 

Now, you know how it sounds. Like you’re a total bitch that was a shitty daughter with no empathy or emotions, but that’s far from the facts. The truth is - you were never close with your dad. You happened to be visiting him during a break from college when shit hit the fan, and he was prepared. You'd have been stupid not to stay with him. And, yeah, he kept you alive and you definitely got closer after spending a year on the road together in some of the worst human conditions ever - but it wasn’t like you were daddy’s little girl or whatever else Rick likes to imagine to torture himself more.

You miss your father, sure, and you’re also sure Rick misses having another trustworthy male in the group, but treating the last words of a man who was going crazy with the walker virus as gospel is just plain crazy. Even for Rick.

And, to be clear, it’s not like you’re trying to force yourself onto Rick or Daryl. You know for a fact that if you were, if all your teasing and affection was making them uncomfortable, they’d say something about it. You’re desperate for them, yeah, but if either of them truly wanted you to fuck off, you’d respect that. 

It’s just that - you know they want you. It’s clear, in the way their eyes follow you around a room, the way their touch lingers on you, how protective they are. For fuck’s sake, you’ve felt the hard outline of the bulge in their pants whenever you plop down on their laps, and you swear that Rick was using any excuse to get in the bathroom while you were taking a bath the other day. Needed his floss, yeah fucking right. It was cute though. You want them to want you. 

And, anyway - you don’t understand why it’s such a big fucking deal. You’re in your twenties, and who knows how much longer you all have left? Daryl and Rick can’t be more than what, forty? Corpses learned to walk, and they’re worried about a little bit of legal age difference?

God, they’re driving you crazy.

In the kitchen, Rick curses. He doesn’t know what to say in reply to you. Does it really bother him, all your teasing? 

Because the answer is - yeah, it does bother him. 

It bothers him, that he can’t even fantasize about pushing you down on his bed and fucking your brains out without images of your dying dad flashing through his mind. It bothers him, that you’re so sexy and hot and sweet and soft and that you want him so bad, make him feel so needed and appreciated in ways no woman has ever made him feel before, yet you’re young enough to be his daughter. It bothers him deeply, that you’re the only thing in his mind all day long and the only thing that truly matters to him, which is why he’s always giving you such a hard time, which also makes him feel like the worst leader ever - because he’s got the safety of an entire community on his shoulders. People are counting on him, and all he can think about is you you you.

It bothers him, that he feels like a dirty old man around you, and that he doesn’t even care. Actually likes the way that people look at him when you’re on his arm. Likes to help you when you’re pretending like you can’t do shit yourself, just because you’d rather have him do it. And it really fucking bothers him that your tits are perky and that you hate wearing a bra and that your skin is clear and that you smell like a goddamn vanilla cupcake in the middle of the apocalypse. 

Sometimes Rick hates you, for the way you bother him. 

But right now, what bothers him the most - is that he’s not even bothered that you want his best friend to fuck you. The only thing that bothers him about you wanting Daryl so bad is that he wants to see just how badly you do, and that makes him feel like a fucking pervert. A bad, bad man.

What the actual fuck is wrong with him? He’s supposed to be the good guy. 

“You’re just too damn young,” is all he says, and then he starts to walk away. It’s shitty, yeah, to leave you hanging like that - but Rick doesn’t want to be this guy. The one who takes advantage of a young, beautiful thing like yourself. It’s wrong. 

He used to be a cop. Married. Looked down upon men who’d hook up with the first young thing that wanted them. He used to hate on his friend, Shane, gave him so much shit about going after younger women who wanted an older man. Told him that young women who looked for older men had daddy issues, and what kind of decent person would take advantage of that? 

Is that a real thing, Rick wonders, daddy issues? Do you have that? Is it because your father died? Because Rick’s pretty sure you’ve been coming onto him and Daryl even back when you first joined the group. Do you think you have to…act the way you do so he’ll take care of you? Look out for you, now that all your family is dead? 

“You don’t need to…cater to what you think I want,” Rick starts, unsure of how else to phrase it. He knows that no matter how he puts it, you’re going to be pissed. “I’ll still be here for you, always, to protect you, take care of you, even if you’re not,” he regrets it the minute it comes out of his mouth, “sexually appealing to me.”

You stand up so fast your spoon clatters out of your oatmeal from the force of your hands on the counter, pushing your chair out and standing up. “Are you kidding me?” You’ve had it now. No more bratty little girl, no - now you’re a pissed off woman.

“I’m not some fucking kid, Rick. I’m not trying to seduce you because I’m worried you’ll kick me out of the group. I can pull my weight as much as the next person and you know that.” It’s insulting, what he’s saying. You literally want to punch him for saying that shit. 

“I’m trying to seduce you so you’ll fuck me. What’s so hard to understand? Do you want me Rick? Because I think you do. You’re just too chicken shit to,” but you don’t get to finish because he rushes forward, pushes you against the kitchen counter and turns you around. Manhandles you. 

You bite your lip to stop from grinning. This is what you wanted. Maybe not the fight, but the feeling of him holding you tight, locking you in place against his strong body. You feel his hard stomach, strong arms, and you’re shameless when you lean down on the counter so you’re completely bent over it, pushing your ass towards the bulge in his jeans. 

“You don’t wanna finish that sentence,” he warns, but maybe you do - because you feel him, hard against you. He likes this. Rick wants you, just as bad as you want him. You say a silent prayer, thanking the angels above that nobody else is home right now. “‘M not chicken shit about anything.”

You scoff. “Yeah, you are. Got me bent against the counter and you’re still talking. God, Rick, maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you can't handle this, maybe,” you go on and on, trying to stand up while he holds you down. He’s got a hand literally pressing into your back to keep you from getting up, and you’re so aroused you feel the dampness in your panties. You try to squeeze your legs together, but you can’t get any relief in this position. 

Then you realize that this must’ve been the position Rick put people in when he’d arrest them. Officer Grimes. Holy shit, that’s hot to think about. Such a force of power, so strong, so smart, so trustworthy. Rick, who takes care of you and comforts you and bends to every stupid whim you make up to test his loyalty towards you. Rick, who puts on a pair of sunglasses before he oggles your tits because he wants to seem like a gentleman so bad. Rick - 

Who’s pulling your pants down over your ass, panties too, until they’re down to your knees and he can see your bare ass. That fast, huh? You wiggle your ass with no remorse for being so greedy. 

“You’re really somethin’, you know that?” He murmurs, running his hand over the smooth skin of your ass. Then he smacks a hand down on it so hard that you’d jump if you weren’t being held down. It’s unexpected, but so fucking hot, and you’ve definitely fantasized about Rick spanking you before. Been begging for it, actually, with all your bad attitude these last few months. 

“You think you’re so grown. Pick and choose when you wanna be a grown lady or a bratty kid, whatever you think might get my attention. ‘M not stupid, I see it, just let you think you’re pulling the strings, ‘cause you know what? ‘S cute that you think you’re in charge,” Rick’s just letting the degrading so fucking sexy dirty talk flow, all the while he drops hits onto your ass. 

Part of the appeal, the desire growing in your belly and making all your limbs feel tight and hot, is that anyone could walk in at any time. Sure, right now the house is empty, but at any point someone could walk in and see what Rick is doing to you. What you’re letting him do. You whine at the thought. 

“You’re right, Rick,” you say, because come on. You haven’t been this desperate just to play hard to get now that you’re underneath him. You’ve been begging to see this side of Rick, to be on the receiving side of all this testosterone, to see if the most powerful man you’ve ever met is like that in every aspect of his life. He’s controlling, and sometimes mean, has a cold streak that’ll ice you out but also carries a warmth to thaw it -

And, you’re realizing, he’s turned on punishing you. Kinkier than you thought, honestly. But you're thrilled that he is.

“Didn’t think I’d ever hear those words out of your mouth,” he replies, and then he stops holding you down to the table. Instead, he lifts you up so your back is to his chest, and you lean against him, very aware that as he holds you to him his hand trails lower and lower, until his fingers are prodding between your legs, and you let out a gasp. 

Who knew Mr. Grimes had all this dirtiness in him? You always hoped, but. It’s better than you expected. You’re literally grinning when he rubs down your slit, so wet, back and forth while barely grazing your clit. He knows you want it bad, but he’s not going to give it to you just yet. 

Payback, maybe? You’ve never been so excited. 

“Fuckin’ drippin’,” he murmurs, voice in your ear. His breath smells like spearmint and you’re such a romantic that it makes you almost moan. It’s the same toothpaste you use. How domestic. How fun, how kinky - that it kind of feels like you’re his little wife letting him fuck you in the kitchen. 

Because yeah, that’s a fantasy of yours. You’ve got a lot of them, and Rick and Daryl are at the center of each one. “Rick,” you whine, and you feel him shake his head against you. 

“Not my name, is it? Rick wouldn’t spank your ass, but I know someone who would. What’d you call me the other day, huh? When you were teasin’ me because I said you couldn’t patrol by yourself?” He sticks a finger inside of you, a little too rough to be pleasurable, but that kind of dominance makes you moan. His thumb rubs over your clit, presses down hard, and the feeling is so much that you try to pull away. 

“Daddy,” you answer, and then he gives you some relief. Turns the hard touch on your little button to something pleasurable with a few soft strokes, adding another finger inside of you. 

He hums. “‘Atta girl. Just feelin’ you. Been imagining what this sweet little cunt feels like since I’ve known you. Figured it had to be as pretty as the rest of you. Tell me,” he lifts his fingers from your pussy, shiny under the kitchen lights from how aroused you are, “It as sweet as I imagined?” He shoves the digits in your mouth and you suck, hard. You moan against his fingers. 

“Look at you,” he utters, even though he’s literally craning his face to see you at this angle. “You’re a dirty, dirty girl. This what you wanted? Wanted to show me how dirty you could be? Guess the only time you’re gonna listen is if Daddy’s got a finger in your mouth or in one of your,”

The sound of footsteps make the both of you freeze. Rick takes his fingers out of your mouth, but he makes no move to pull away from behind you or help you pull your pants up. He’s frozen. 

The steps enter the kitchen, and when you realize who it is, your stomach sinks. Fucking Daryl. 

“The fuck?” He asks, looking around like he does when there’s a new location the group is checking out that he’s skeptical of. It’s impossible to read his expression, and in typical Daryl fashion, you think he’s just going to walk away. Slam the door to the garage, hole up and work on his bike, avoid you like the plague until the end of time because you’re such a little slut. That last part really isn’t his character, fine - but it makes you sick, thinking about Daryl thinking differently about you. 

But he doesn’t walk away. Instead, when Rick steps out from behind you and you quickly pull your pants up, Daryl walks up to him and literally punches him in the face. You gasp, and Rick curses, damn near falling on the ground. 

“Fuckin’,” but Rick doesn’t finish, because Daryl drops whatever he’s holding and shoves at him again, until he really does almost topple down. 

You don’t know what to do. “Daryl,” you say, trying to make your voice sound loud, not whiny. “What the hell are you doing? Rick, he’s. God, leave him alone!”

Daryl does as you say, but he’s fucking pissed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this fucking mad. Rick holds his nose, because blood is dripping from it and ruining his shirt that you just bleached for him. 

“What the fuck ‘re you thinkin,’ man? She’s just a kid,” but you cut Daryl off, stomp your foot very maturely and let out a loud, irritated groan. Very attractive, you’re sure.

“I’m not a fucking kid! You’re both always acting like I don’t know what I want, that I can’t handle it and it’s just. You’re wrong, okay? How much more obvious do I need to be? I want Rick. I want you, Daryl. Stop making a big deal out of nothing,” as you rant, they’re both looking at you like you’re crazy, and it honestly feels like Daryl’s looking at you in disgust. 

“We’re twice you’re fuckin’ age. You can’t handle it. ‘Less you’ve got experience that I don’t know about, you need’a be with someone your own fucking age,” apparently this is a hill Daryl will die on. You’re so fucking irritated. Why would you chose the two most morally gold men the entire fucking community, you have no idea. You guess that it sort of is part of their appeal, but -

Now Rick’s cutting you off, using a towel to stop the blood coming out of his nose. He looks ridiculous, towel pressed to his face, blood all over him, still trying to establish himself as leader in this kitchen with a hand on his hip. 

You think he’s going to defend you. He did just have you bent over the counter and was playing with your pussy. But Daryl’s guilt is spilling onto him now, and he nods, letting out a sigh like he’s just given up. 

There’s a lag in conversation, until Rick finally says, “Yeah. Man, I know, I just got caught up. ‘S easy to get carried away, and,” you make a noise that's like a whine and a groan and brat all at the same time - and both men look at you like you’re proving their point - you’re acting immature. 

“You both suck, you know that? Any man here would want me, and you’re acting like I’m ugly and,” you don’t finish because Daryl cuts you off. He’s still pissed, and your eyes widen as he walks towards you and backs you up against the refrigerator. 

“You know goddamn well you ain’t ugly. Stop playin’ dumb and stop with the bullshit. You’re actin’ like a fuckin’ cat in heat around here and I’m sick of it. What do you need, huh? You wanna get fucked, is that it?” Daryl’s trying to be mean, scare you off, get you to leave him alone - which tells you two things. One: He’s probably so good with dirty talk. Two: He must feel something for you if he’s trying this hard to keep you away. 

“Daryl,” you hear Rick warn from behind him, because he is pretty much yelling at you in the kitchen. 

Daryl waves him off. “No. Shit, girl, you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy. When’s the last time you had it? Had a man on top of ya given’ you what you want?” You blush bright red, and you reach out to loop your finger into the belt hook of Daryl’s pants. You think for a second he’s going to push you away, but instead he leans closer and barricades you between his arms against the fridge, rolls his hips and grinds himself, dick hard, against you. You moan, even though there’s no friction for you. It’s just hot, you just like it, and you want more and - 

“You like that? So desperate for attention that you’ll take anything, won’t ya? People dying left and right, world overrun by fucking corpses and all you can think about is a pair of old men getting in your panties. This what you want, isn’t it? Would make your daddy real fuckin’ proud,” he takes your hand and sets it on his bulge, and you feel it, squeeze it, know that he must be packin’ some fucking heat to be acting the way he is right now.

Rick grabs Daryl by the shoulder to move him out of the way, telling him, “Man, calm down, she’s -” but he doesn’t finish. Looks at you and sees your eyes so big, cheeks so red, looking at Daryl in utter adoration, and that’s when he realizes how fucked they both really are. Daryl would’ve just scared the shit out of another woman - a big man, looming over you like that, talking a bunch of shit - yet you’re looking at him like he’s the sun or something. 

You’re really something. Same woman that cries when insects and animals die is the same one that could probably kill a walker with her bare hands. Same woman that sleeps with a stuffed animal she found in a drawer of the house, is the same one begging two old men to fuck her. Pink and bratty and pretty and full of fucking bite, Rick will never understand you. He’s never met another woman like you, didn't know one existed. He’s -

“When’s the last time?” He asks, loving the absent minded look on your face when you turn your head to him. Rick knows you're smart - has seen you problem solve and debate with everyone, knows you were pretty educated before all this shit went down, and you definitely have street smarts. Maybe that’s why it’s so cute, to be the one to make you lose your mind. That you trust him enough to care for you. 

Or maybe he’s just a sick bastard. 

You take too long to reply and Daryl gently nudges you, takes your fingers out of the loop of his pants and holds your hand instead. He must have the same reaction to seeing you like this, because he’s calmed down considerably. 

“Last time you had sex,” he says gently. Back to the big, soft, fuzzy teddy bear version of Daryl - your description of him, when you saw him in his new brown poncho. Rick doesn’t get it, but he doesn’t need to. You’re cute, and the things you say are sweet, period. 

You lick over your bottom lip, tongue cute and pink, just like the little shirt you’ve got on. You let out a tiny breath. “Mm, well,” another pause, when you look down and then back up, from Daryl to Rick. 

“I’m a virgin.”

────

“It could work, you know,” Carol says, voice a little smug. She’s teasing, but Daryl’s got no idea what the fuck she’s on about. Carol sees his expression and huffs out a laugh, nudging him in the shoulder with a strength he’s not even sure she knows she carries. He grunts. 

“It’s a differently world now. Age, our lives before this crap. Doesn’t mean anything. If you,” Daryl cuts her off right there. He shakes his head, downs the rest of the beer that he’s been nursing all night. 

“Don’t know what the hell yer talkin’ about,” he grumbles, but that’s a lie. Daryl knows exactly what Carol is referring to, because it’s right in front of him. 

It being you. 

Carol nudges him again, this time with her shoulder. They’re sitting on the couch together, drinking beer after one of those community meetings Rick loves to have so much, and Daryl feels uncomfortable. Not because of the people he’s around - no, the group he made at the start of all this shit is the reason he feels good. They’re his family. 

It just feels weird, to sit around and drink and hang out when there’s a crowd of walkers that could be lurking anywhere, at any time. Daryl will never get used to it, this false sense of normalcy, but maybe that’s just because he’s never had it before. 

Fucked up as it is to say, he’s never had a quality of life quite this good. His life was made better during the apocalypse, and he’s pretty sure he’s the only one that can say that. Once again, Daryl feels lonely. Misunderstood. Which makes him feel like a fucking loser and a jerk at the same time. He grabs another beer, straight out of Glenn’s hand who’s standing next to him, and downs it before slamming it down on the coffee table. Glenn shakes his head and walks off, and Carol barks out a laugh.

She’s right. Maybe not about what she said, but Daryl was looking at you when she said it. Maybe he’s just as oblivious as Rick when it comes to you, heart eyes popping out of his head whenever he sees you, all the lust and protectiveness spilling out of his body in the form of annoyance and irritation. 

You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, which Daryl can see from the couch. Cute feet dangling while you sip on a glass of something clear. Could be vodka, could be water - hard to fucking tell with you. Are you acting like a grown woman, smart and strong and capable, with skills that came from being raised by a father with military training? That’d mean you’re drinking vodka. 

Or are you the girl who’s all pink and frills, needing help with the smallest tasks, starting arguments just for attention, showing off too much skin for the end of the fucking world? That’d mean you’re drinking water. The easiest way to tell what version of you you’re going to be is to check if Rick is around, and tonight, of course he is. 

Looks like you’re all pink and frills tonight.

Daryl watches you throw your head back and laugh, so pretty, so free - and it makes Daryl happy that you’re happy, despite it all. Your hair is a little messy and Daryl likes it, loves the way your sweater falls off your shoulder and that your sock is slipping off your foot. He’s never liked a woman so much, never met another person who was able to dig themselves so deep under his skin that they’re impossible to remove, even with all the warm showers he’s been taking. 

So much for refusing to get used to this place. It’s getting harder and harder to go without these luxuries as time goes on. But that’s a worry for another time. 

Rick, coming from out of fucking nowhere, since you were just talking to Maggie, stands next to you. Daryl watches him, the way he places a hand on your leg and bends to slip the sock so gently back onto your foot. He asks you, because it’s a pretty small house so Daryl can hear, if you’re doing alright. Must be vodka you’re drinking then. You nod, looking up at Rick with something like sparkles in your own eyes, and that’s when Carol clears her throat. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” she says, finishing her beer off. Daryl blushes bright red, because that means she saw him stare. What a fool he is. 

Carol stands to walk away. “‘S how she looks at you too. Just so you know. You deserve what you want, Daryl.” And then she walks off. Fuckin’ Carol, he thinks, shaking his head to himself. She’s his closest friend, probably knows him better than Rick, and she’s got wisdom Daryl can’t even comprehend. He hates that maybe she’s right. It’s too much to think about.

Daryl knows you like him. Shit, he’d be stupid not to see it. He just doesn’t know what to do with that information. Can’t stop thinking about you, what you looked like against that fridge. Like he could do anything to you, and you’d thank him and ask for more. The way you looked at him, like you were seeing a rainbow or an open bar for the first time or some shit - why do you see him that way? What are you seeing when you look at him that he can’t see in himself?

Makes him fucking uncomfortable, but he can’t deny that it does sort of feel good. 

Daryl can’t keep his eyes off of you the entire night. Watches you lose your ass to Eugene on the chess set in the living room, bites back a laugh when you ask to see Abraham flex his bicep as a joke, and Rosita nearly pushes you away. When you ask Tara if she thinks you’re hot, all teasing until she blushes - and as everyone trickles out to go to bed, you end up sitting next to Rick on your regular spot on the couch. 

You’re such a tease. Such a flirt. Daryl wonders how you grew up, that you’re just so used to getting your way. So used to having people see you the way that you want, know that nobody would ever tell you no. Nobody can ever stay mad at you, or annoyed with you. You’re just…magic. Beyond the new feminine clothes that you picked up in Alexandria, even back when the group was on the road - there was something about you that was unlike any other woman Daryl had met.

Maybe it’s because of your father. Daryl can’t imagine growing up with a man like that. Especially as a woman as girly as you. Your father was cool - tough, strong, smart. Told war stories that made Daryl’s head almost explode, and he loved listening to that shit. Loved being able to trust another man, take some of the load off his and Rick’s back. But he was strict. 

Always giving you a hard time. Telling you what to do. In a way, since he passed, it’s like Rick turned into him - took some parts of his personality at least, when it comes to you. 

You’re a virgin, probably thanks to your strict father, because girls that look like you should not be virgins still. Daryl can imagine high school and college boys showing up at your door, pictures a nice suburban house, you all dressed up, waiting to be wined and dined and screwed on a Friday night. You deserve a life like that, normal, but you’re never going to get it. There’s no men your age even around now, which is maybe why you’re looking for something in him and Rick - 

Or maybe you’re just looking for a daddy. Since yours is gone. Maybe you’re so used to it, being taken care of, that you want it again. 

Daryl drinks and drinks and drinks until everyone is out of the house. It’s just you and Rick and him, the usual, and he never realized it until now, that people might be purposely keeping their distance from all of you. One thing, to see a girl like you with an older man, but two of them? Hell, Daryl would wanna keep his distance too. 

Just the three of you. In the living room. You drape your legs over Rick’s lap and lean back against the arm of the couch, and Daryl just watches. Your legs are cute. The little bit of skin that sticks out between your shirt and your jeans where the button digs in is cute too. Sexy. Seeing your body fill out ever since you got to Alexandria is a turn on that Daryl didn’t know he had. 

You’d look good at any size, any weight, in any outfit. Just that kind of woman. But seeing you gain some weight now that there’s proper access to food is nice to see. Makes Daryl happy, in a weird way, knowing you’re taken care of and -

“Daddy.” 

Daryl and Rick both freeze, make eye contact across the coffee table and then both turn to you. With both eyes on you, you shyly giggle, and Daryl truly can’t tell if it’s a role you’re playing or if this is you.

“Come on now,” Rick says lightly, pushing your feet off of his lap. Gently, of course, but you plop them right back down. He sighs, but relents. You’ve really got Rick wrapped around your little finger. 

“What? Just seems right to call you that,” you explain, and Daryl laughs. Can’t help but talk shit about Rick too, because honestly, he’s drunk enough for it. 

“Yeah, man. She ain’t wrong. Got you doting on ‘er and adorin’ her. Takin’ care of her too. You sure you ain’t her daddy?” The playful mood of Daryl’s doesn’t come out much, but he and Rick have been through a lot together. They’re like brothers. Besides, it’s funny. 

Daryl has to laugh so he doesn’t get hard.

Rick is embarrassed, but he laughs anyway. Shakes his head. “You’re one to talk, man,” he says, running a hand over his face. “Two words: Piggyback. Ride. You do a lot for this girl, Dixon,” he looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. Daryl smirks, shrugs, and you furrow both eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. 

“Piggyback ride sounds like three words. Piggy,” you hold up your fingers, attempting to count. “Back. Ride. Yeah, three.” Daryl and Rick are silent as they look at each other, and then they burst out laughing. You grin, which is how they both know you’re fucking with them. Playing that role you love so much.

It’s cozy in the house, and Daryl is suddenly hit with the itch he has to run somewhere less warm. Candles are lit, the heat is on, the wall is secure and everything feels pretty good right now. You’re all like family, have been through so much, and as much as Daryl wants to sink into this moment, he also wants to run away. You must catch the look on his face. 

You sit up, drawing your knees to your chest. Like you’re protecting yourself. You change the subject, before anyone can interrupt you. 

“Have you put any thought into it?” You ask, looking at Daryl, then Rick. They’ve both got no idea what you’re talking about. You sigh, annoyed, then continue. “Taking my virginity. Will you do it?”

Shit. 

You really were serious about that shit? Daryl doesn’t know what to say to that. 

He thinks about what to say, but Rick cuts him off. “Still can’t believe that you’re a virgin,” he says, shaking his head. “You’ve done nothing?” You blush so pink, Daryl wonders if you have superhuman speed and you snuck into the bathroom without him noticing to put on some of that weird pink makeup shit women love to wear.

“I’ve done…other stuff,” you say, as if to prove yourself. “Oral sex, and sometimes ana,” Rick will not let you finish that sentence, thank god. Daryl breathes a sigh of relief as he says, “Don’t. Don’t wanna hear about you letting boys touch you. You gotta lot bravery, kid, acting like a little tease when you’ve never even had a man inside of you. That Daddy shit too. You crazy or something?”

You’re still embarrassed, but you roll your eyes. Rick turns his body more towards you, likes the way you blink at him, lashes long and eyes wide, like you’re waiting for what he’s going to say. 

“Maybe I just know what I like. I’m a modern woman and I -” you start going on and on, as you do. And it’s cute, really. Rick likes it, how much you talk, can pretend to be annoyed by it but he really doesn’t want to ever miss a word. But this time he zones out, and all he can focus on is the way your lips look, open and talking and nagging, and he doesn’t want to hear it anymore. Thinks that maybe, since you want it so fucking much - he should help you out. 

Should put that pretty mouth to good use, shouldn’t he? Sounds like a good idea to him. 

He stands up, liking the way you look up at him. Like you’re waiting for him to give you directions. He feels his dick swelling up - but then again, he’s been half hard ever since you said daddy. He nods his head to you, motions for you to stand up too -

And because he’s daddy, yeah yeah, he puts a hand out for you to grab it. He helps you up, while you and Daryl look at him like he’s a crazy person. Rick nods to Daryl too. 

“You comin?’” He asks, nodding toward the stairs. He squeezes your hand. “Think we oughta give her what she wants now. Been patient, ain’t that right?” He looks to you, and you nod, so over eager you almost trip over your own feet. Rick looks back to Daryl. 

“‘Bout time we give her what she wants.”

────

“Is it going to hurt?” You ask, because after all this talk, all this teasing, now that you’re really in Rick’s bed - you’re so scared of what’s to come. You’re not scared of Rick and Daryl, because you literally trust them with your life. You’re scared of what it’s going to feel like, having something inside of you that’s bigger than a few fingers. 

You look at Daryl and Rick at the side of the bed. Daryl looks a little more hesitant than Rick, keeps watching you like he’s sure you’re going to say you don’t want to do this anymore, but you’d never, no matter how scared you are. Rick looks at you as he takes his belt off, leans down and rubs a hand comfortingly on your head, scratches at your scalp. 

“Won’t hurt too bad,” he says a moment later, in just his boxers. “Gonna have Daryl lick you out, get you nice and wet so it’s easy for me to slip in. ‘Be easy to stretch you out after you’ve cum a few times, ain’t that right, Daryl? You cool with that?” Something about Rick ordering Daryl around is doing it for you. You’re scared, but you’re pleasantly tipsy, limbs loose and brain sharp, focused on the feeling of arousal pooling in your panties, stomach warm with the possibility of what’s to come. 

“Sure have thought about this, man,” Daryl says in reply, and he walks to the edge of the bed to get on his knees. It’s funny, because he’s right - Rick’s been all, you’re too young for me, kid and I’d never go against your father’s wishes, he was my friend, but here he is, ordering the two of you around like he’s had this scenario planned out in his head for months. Maybe he’s just drunk, or maybe he’s just a born leader. Whatever it is, both you and Daryl obey, and your cunt drips at the thought. You make a whiny noise. 

“You gonna get her clothes off or what, man? Think that’s a job for her daddy, ain’t it?” Daryl says, one hand looping around your ankle, wanting to pull you down to the edge of the bed to go down on you. You whimper, voice leaving your throat, because Daryl using that nickname in regards to Rick is making your head spin. 

How many times have you had a finger on your clit with your legs tightened, trying to squeeze an orgasm out, with the only thought in your head daddy daddy daddy while you thought about Rick or Daryl playing with your pussy, ordering you around, fucking you so hard it hurt to talk? Too many fucking times. In your fantasies, you imagined your father finding out, wanting to get back at him for every horrible thing he ever did to you by fucking both of his friends. 

Look at me now, dad, you think, warmth spreading throughout your body because you’re a sicko. It’s so hot, being bad, being grown enough to do this but young enough to know that it’s naughty and wrong.

Not that you only want to fuck Rick and Daryl to get back at your dad. No, they'd still be hot as hell even if you didn't have issues.

Rick sits you up. Maneuvers you like you're a fragile doll, all while you try to commit the look of him shirtless, skin slightly tanned, the scruff on his face, to memory. The look of Daryl at the edge of the bed, wanting to pleasure you. Rick’s calloused hands, fingers taking off your shirt and then your pants, handing them to Daryl to put off to the side. You can take your own clothes off, but Rick wants to, and for some reason that sends your brain blank.

This is what you’ve been waiting for. 

“Lay back down,” Rick says gently, pulling his own boxers off. His cock is hard, and he jerks it for a second, holds the head of it loosely and rubs his thumb over the tip, spreads the precum around and lets out a soft breath. “You’re alright, sweetheart. Let Daryl get you nice and wet so I can fill you up. Can you do that? Know you want it,” and since you’re naked now, Daryl pulls you all the way to the edge of the bed, where he spreads your legs and keeps your knees under his big hands to keep them apart, licks a stripe from your hole up to your clit. “Know you’ve been thinking about it,” Rick says watching. 

Rick has a nice cock, just like you expected. It’s big, pink and veiny, and under the dim lights in the bedroom the look of the head all covered in precum makes you lick your lips. Rick must see that, because he moves to sit by your head, chuckling like he can read you that easily even when you're spread open for his friend to lick your pussy.

You shiver.

Daryl pulls away, the warm feeling of his mouth gone, and it makes you ache. “Ain’t that something,” Daryl murmurs, head leaned against your thigh for a second. “Pussy just as pretty as the rest of ya’.”

Holy fuck. You lean back, gripping at the sheets of the bed, until Rick grabs your hand. He alternates between squeezing your hand and brushing your hair away from your face. You’ve had oral sex before, sure, but those times were all with preppy suburban boys who didn’t want to get dirty. You’ve seen the way Daryl eats. Slurps, fucking goes all in. He’s doing the same on your pussy, and his tongue is so warm, so wet, you try to close your thighs around his head because the stimulation is just too much but it’s impossible with the way he’s holding you down. Your back arches, and you squeeze Rick’s hand so tight you worry you’re going to break it.

“Not done yet,” Daryl scolds, pulling away from your cunt with a glossy chin. Rick tsks you as well, tells you to relax and take it, to cum all over Daryl’s tongue so he can fit his dick inside of you. 

It only takes a minute more, of Daryl sucking on your clit while slipping a finger inside of you, prodding around like he’s curious, and for Rick to say, “Dirty girl, you are. Letting a man twice your age stick his tongue inside you. Daddy’s gotta keep an eye on you,” because woah. Just. Fucking hell. You cum with a cry, moaning Daryl’s name like a prayer while bucking your hips up, pussy squeezing his fingers that are prepping you for Rick’s cock. 

Daryl keeps licking, sucking, until you thrash and cum again and Rick tells him to stop. Not because you can’t handle it, no, it’s probably because Rick is so ready to fuck you, his dick is literally leaking onto his fingers. Both of his hands are going to ache, from the way you’re squeezing one and the way he’s jacking himself off with the other. He grabs some of his own mess, sticky, and uses his pointer finger to spread it over your lips like lip gloss. He grins, all sexy and cocky - and you’re not even thinking, body so trembly and hot from Daryl eating you like you're his last meal. 

Daryl Dixon eats pussy like it’s going to make him cum. You wonder if maybe it could, file that fantasy away for another time.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur in regards to the lipgloss, and you lick your lips to taste it. Tongue pink and wet, expression fucked out and he hasn’t even got his cock in you yet. 

Rick - he’s gotta fuck you. Like, now.

When Daryl stands up, gets off his knees, you look up at him and ask him to take his clothes off. “Wanna see you, Daryl, please?” You beg, wanting him to get naked. You know he’s sensitive, about his scars and just his body in general. Doesn’t realize how fucking sexy he is, all strong and big and tough and perfect. But he shakes his head. 

“Nah,” he replies, although his voice isn’t scolding. You can tell that he hates disappointing you. He helps Rick pull you up so you’re laying on the pillows, pushes your knees up so your feet are resting flat against the bed, giving easy access to your sopping wet cunt. “Tonight’s about you, girly. Don’t worry ‘bout me.” You pout, but you’re not going to pressure him. He sits beside you on the bed, right next to the pillows, and grabs your hand, looks down at you and for the first time ever: 

Asks if he can kiss you. You nod, You’ve never kissed Daryl before, or Rick for that matter. Have been so focused on cock, you’ve never really thought about it, which is kind of embarrassing. Skipping some steps. You’ve always gotten ahead of yourself.

When Daryl leans down to kiss you, cupping your face with one big hand, you feel Rick grabbing at your tits. He’s such a gentleman, so traditional outside of everything that has to do with you, that his…freakiness is kind of unexpected. But you like the feeling, of him admiring your body, touching your waist and the little plush part of your stomach, rubbing his hands up and down before cupping your breasts, thumb playing with your sensitive nipples. 

Your back arches off the bed, and Daryl’s lips, slow and soft as he dominates your mouth is such a stark contrast to the way Rick is touching you like you’re an object for his amusement, tip of his cock poking into your leg. “Fuckin’ beautiful, just like I imagined. Little body just made to be admired and touched,” he murmurs, and you moan into Daryl’s mouth, which makes more room for his tongue. “Almost feels like a shame to get you all dirty. Break your little pussy in until it craves my cock.”

You’re clinging to Daryl while Rick talks about you, feeling like you’re in heaven with the two men you trust most in the world on top of you. “Bet you want me to though, silly girl. Tell me you want me to ruin you. Want me and Daryl ruin you for anyone else.”

You pull away from Daryl’s lips as best as you can to whine, reach a hand out to Rick to get his attention, as if you need to do that. You always imagined you’d be a seductress in bed, know exactly what to say and do and be confident about it. But right now you can hardly form words, so overwhelmed with having Rick and Daryl hovering over you, it’s hard to even form thoughts - your pussy clenches though. 

“Nobody else. Ever,” you say, voice soft and a little spaced out. You’ve always gotten like this after an orgasm, clingy and spacey and very, very pliable. You whine again. “Cock, Daddy. Please. Now.”

This time, Daryl pulls away, takes a good look at your body and palms himself through his pants. Perfect tits and a perfect body, cute hips and a bellybutton with a scar, must’ve had a piercing at some point, which fits just how sexy and cute you are. Your sweet little socks are still on and you’ve got a shiny anklet on during the middle of the apocalypse. You’re a perfect woman, and what you see in him, Daryl will never understand - but he’s not going to take it for granted. Isn’t going to overstay his welcome either. He makes eye contact with Rick, and yeah, this is uncomfortable. Slightly. 

Because Rick has his dick out. But it’s not like Daryl’s looking at him, no, it’s all about you. He can’t wait to see the way you take Rick’s cock. Can’t believe that he gets to be part of this - because it’s always been Rick, you know? That’s who you wanted first. You want Rick, might even love him, if Daryl is reading the light in your eyes correctly. He wants that for you. Love. He wants whatever you want. 

“Go gentle,” he tells Rick, to which the other man snorts, a noise kind of unsexy given the moment, but you still make grabby hands at him, grip at his biceps so hard and dig your nails in. Rick hisses. “Fuck, alright, alright, ‘m going,” he murmurs, then shoots Daryl a look. “Should tell her to be gentle,” he grumbles. 

Rick positions himself at your entrance, looking at you closely. There’s something Daryl sees there, a spark, so magnetic it’s like a physical thing, the energy between you two. Feels like he’s intruding on something, but he leaves it, just squeezes your hand when you let go of Rick’s arms. 

“You’re good, sweetheart. Gonna feel real good in a second. Hold onto Daryl’s hand, alright? Your Daryl’s got you. Trust him so much. don’t you? Daddy’s got you, gonna be, shit,” Rick pushes himself all the way inside of you, and holy fuck, he’s never felt anything like this before. Didn’t know a pussy could grip this tight while still being so wet. You’re fucking made for him, Rick’s sure of that now, because every thrust and every noise out of your mouth makes his head feel cloudy and his body heat up with nothing but love for you. 

Goddamn, Rick loves you so much. 

He looks down at you and sees a beautiful woman who’s been given the short end of the stick in this life. Deserves so much more than this world, deserves so much more than Rick, and maybe that’s why the idea of Rick and Daryl is okay to him. You deserve it, really, you do - such a pretty young thing with a cunt and a body sculpted by a perverted old god somewhere, and dammit if Rick doesn’t want to protect you and give you anything and everything you could ever want. 

When he cums, spills his seed inside of you and presses his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, he swallows your little noises and without even thinking, reaches for Daryl's hand.

All for you.

────

Daryl tenses up when Rick enters the kitchen, frozen like there’s an animal he’s not trying to spook. Only this time, instead of a deer he wants to make his dinner, his hand is frozen around the handle of a jug of water that’s in the fridge. Purified, because every house in Alexandria has one of these. Spoiled brat suburban people, Daryl thinks, even though he’s technically one of them now. 

He waits for Rick to do whatever he’s going to do in the kitchen, but when he does nothing, just sits there and waits for Daryl to turn around, he knows the reason Rick is even in here right now is to talk to him. Daryl grumbles under his breath. 

“Yeah, man?” He asks, putting the jug of water on the counter and closing the fridge. Rick looks frazzled as fuck. Face red, the buttons on his shirt not lining up, because it looks like he got ready in a rush. He rubs under his nose in a quick gesture he does whenever he’s stressed out. Daryl knows this man well now. Really well. Even knows what he looks like when he cums, and for that - he’s fucking glad Merle’s not alive to see the situation he’s got himself in. 

After that night together, when good ‘ol Rick popped your cherry and Daryl watched on, comforted you - things changed. Without any further conversation, you must’ve taken it as all you needed to go forth and publicly claim Rick. And for that matter, Daryl too. It’s been weeks now, and everyone in the group stays clear whenever you’re all in the room together. You’re always kissing Rick on the cheek, sticking your hand in his jacket pocket to stay close, standing behind Daryl whenever he’s sitting with his back exposed, looping your arms around his neck just to get close or sitting yourself down on his lap at the most inconvenient times. 

He likes it, deep down. ‘Course he does. Daryl fucking loves you, everything about you, even when you’re greedy and spoiled and just plain annoying. Too perfect to be real, and he’d do anything for you. It’s annoying as fuck, but it is what it is. 

Just weird, wondering what people think of all of it. If anyone wonders what happens behind closed doors. When you wake up in Rick’s bed between them, after someone from the group has to literally seek Rick out because he’s been so distracted. Daryl will never forget the look on Eugene’s face, when he saw you in bed between them. Daryl could laugh just thinking about it.

But it’s not good, Rick being distracted. He’s gotta get his shit together, he’s - 

Oh, Daryl can’t talk shit and he knows it. You’re distracting him too. Once you got a taste of cock, of sex, you’ve been insatiable. Daryl hears Merle’s voice calling him a fool in his head whenever Rick watch you go down on him, sucking his cock and cupping his balls while he sits on the edge of the bed. Rick stands behind you, egging you on, pressing the bottom of his shoe against your back to make you take his cock deeper, tells you in a raspy voice, “Atta girl, fuck, mouth made for sucking cock, is that right? Look at you. Making Daryl feel all good. Prettiest little thing in the world, baby. Can’t wait for my turn after.” 

Rick’s a filthy bastard, even to Daryl’s surprise. But - it’s working. All of you. Together. Daryl doesn’t wanna see Rick’s cock any more than he has to, but he’s just happy to be part of something that makes you happy. Like he said, he’d do anything for you. 

And deep down, he knows he’d do anything for Rick too. Man has got him through some of the hardest, toughest shit of his life. Is probably the reason Daryl’s still even alive. People always joke, calling Daryl his guard dog. It pisses him off, because he ain’t no dog, but - they’re not wrong.

After Daryl’s done pouring a cup of water, Rick answers. He’s fidgety, and Daryl doesn’t like it. What the fuck is his problem? Did something happen? Rick’s supposed to be the cool, calm, collected one. But lately he’s been losing his shit. Daryl wonders if it has anything to do with you. 

Truthfully, Rick’s moods usually do have something to do with you. 

Daryl’s stomach sinks thinking something happened to you. 

“You seen ‘er?” Rick asks, looking guilt, like he lost a class pet he was supposed to be caring for or something. “She was supposed to meet me at Deanna’s for a meeting. She’s always runnin’ off, but something feels. I dunno,” Rick runs a hand through his hair, trying to remain calm. “Left Deanna’s and came to bed, thinking she’d show up, but I still haven’t seen her. I told her no more patrolling or guarding the gate, so I doubt she’s doing that. God, man, please tell me you’ve seen her,” Rick really sounds pathetic, Daryl thinks. 

Which scares the shit out of him. Where the hell are you? You’re always running off and doing stupid shit, which is annoying as hell because you’re smart. You know better. It’s almost like you’ve got something to prove to everyone else, especially now that everyone’s been so weird about you with Rick and Daryl. Maybe you left, went on a run without telling anyone? Took a shift patrolling even when you’re not supposed to, just to show you’re tough?

Daryl nods at Rick, like he understands, and then motions towards the door. “You wanna,” he’s about to ask if they should go look for you, but Rick nods, doesn’t even need Daryl to finish. 

They start walking, but it’s dark and Daryl doesn’t know where to find you. He asks, “You check with Maggie and Carol next door?” But he feels like a dick for even asking that. Of course Rick did, he’s not a fucking idiot. 

Rick nods, looks like he’s thinking the same thing, and then it’s silent except for the scuffing sound of them walking along the dirty streets. Rick makes a mental note to talk to Deanna about cleaning them up, figure out how to do so without taking too much energy out of everyone when there’s other important labor that needs to be done. 

“She’s drivin’ me crazy, man,” Rick says, shaking his head when Daryl looks over. He obviously knows Rick is talking about you. “So much shit going on, and she chooses right now to go missing? To not listen. It’s cute an’ all, sometimes. Gotta admit. That stubborn little streak, but hell,” they stop walking for a minute, turn to each other. “She’s fuckin’ killing me.”

Daryl gets it. Rick knows he does. But there’s nothing he can say that will make the situation better. Besides, as much as they get along, learning to properly share you and not get all up in their feelings about it - the boundaries are still a little blurred. Need to be discussed. Is Daryl allowed to tell Rick what to do when it comes to you? He’s got some thoughts, wants to tell Rick to stop spanking you for fun and instead use it to properly teach you a lesson. 

But he thinks that’d be overstepping his boundary. It already happened once, when Daryl walked in on Rick fucking you one morning. He was spooning you, dick buried deep inside of you, gripping your jaw while he told you filthy things that turned Daryl red. He didn’t mean to watch, but shit was going down with Deanna and Rick was nowhere to be found so of course Daryl went looking, and then he saw Rick hit you lightly in the face and Daryl couldn’t just stand by and watch that. 

Not you, so sweet that you spent last night massaging Daryl’s back even when he tried to scare you off of touching him like that multiple times. You kissed his scars, made up fake stories about where each of them came from - shark bite, alien surgery, some other bullshit that made him laugh. You said the truth about their origin made you sad. You cuddled him and kissed him and told him you love him, and he still feels like a dick for not replying. Not saying it back.

Daryl’s just not good at that shit. Hates himself for it, but he’s just not. ‘S why he doesn’t deserve you. 

But you and Rick are fucking weird. Sexually, Daryl is still learning. Rick made him look under the covers that day he smacked you, made you tell him how wet you were, how much you liked it a little rough just so Daryl wouldn’t beat his ass for putting his hands on you. And don’t get Daryl started, when you start sucking on his fingers, trying to have a normal conversation with Rick over a beer while you lick and suck his digits until one of them gives you the real thing - dick.

You’re a force, that’s for sure. And when Daryl and Rick hear your laugh by the opening gate of Alexandria, they both know that, once again - you went against their wishes. If you’re putting yourself in danger just to get punished, they need to have a talk with you. Because it’s not that you’re not qualified to stand watch - there’s just no need. 

Daryl would happily take any shift of anything if it meant you were safe. But you just don’t fucking listen, and every step closer to you is making Daryl, and Rick, for that matter - more and more pissed. 

“You’re a pretty little thing, you know that? Tell me, who’s in charge here? Certainly can’t be you. No offense, you’re just,” a pause, and when Daryl finally sees who it is you’re talking to, the voice finishes, “Too fuckin’ pretty.”

Rick and Daryl find you, weapon in hand, but you’re relaxed and casual and talking to someone on the other side of the gate. You wouldn’t be able to defend yourself while you’re all loose and giggly, when this is probably the most serious job in the fucking community. Daryl wants to haul you over his shoulder, take you home and smack your ass blue. He’s never been so pissed, and who the fuck is in the watchtower letting this shit happen?

The voice talking to you belongs to a man, tapping a baseball bat against the fence with a smile on his face. But it’s not just him. There’s at least three trailers behind him, spread out, and Daryl doesn’t even have to look at Rick to know he’s about to go psycho. 

Good, Daryl thinks, he’ll join him. What the fuck were you thinking, not calling for backup?

“Not exactly taking in new people right now. Supplies are…tight,” Rick lies, but you jump in, and it’s the first time Daryl has really seen how naive you are. Realizes that he and Rick have been putting you at a disadvantage - first you had your father, making all the choices for you, protecting you. And you got lucky with Rick and Daryl. Have never actually met a bad man in your life.

Just because someone is smiling, doesn’t mean they’re a good person. Are you - no, because Daryl doesn’t want to think anything mean about you, but surely you don’t think because the man standing behind the opening to the community is handsome, that he’s safe? Maybe you heard Rick talking about the community needing more men? But this is - goddamn, you have to understand that it didn’t mean letting random men into the community? At night? While you’re all alone? 

They’ve got to teach you better. Daryl is kicking himself right now.

“Rick, he’s friendly. They just need a place to stay and,” Rick cuts you off, grabs you by the shoulder and pushes you behind him. Sort of rough, but in this case? Daryl is glad. 

“No,” Rick says firmly, standing tall and firm. His hand is clenched into a fist so tight, Daryl worries he’s about to shatter the bones in his hand. His other hand is on his gun, and Daryl wonders where this is going to go. “C’mon,” he tells you, grabbing at your hand, but you slap it away.

Oh, you’re going to fucking get it when you’re back home. You’re going to wish Rick was the one spanking your little ass, because Daryl has never been so pissed at you. 

The man at the gate laughs, tip of his bat digging into the dirt. Daryl’s pretty good about picking up vibes of people, and this person is making his stomach sink and his skin crawl. Especially when some other men from the trailers walk up. 

“We don’t mean any harm,” the man says, and that’s sarcasm Daryl detects. He’s about to just start shooting, has a loaded gun on him for a reason, but then the man starts talking again. Directed at you. 

“Tell your daddy what we talked about. He is your daddy, ain’t he?” He asks, another joke that you don’t understand, nodding towards Rick. You shrug, biting on your bottom lip. “No. Well, yeah. Something like that,” you reply, and before anyone can stop you, you reach around Rick to open the gate.

thoughts on a part two? 💓

[daryltwdixon]

Hii I was wondering if you could please write a one shot about Daryl x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s daughter) I was thinking younger Daryl, they gotta keep their relationship secret (Rick thinks his sweet angel is too pure for redneck Daryl). It could be fluff, smut, or both!

Daryl Dixon x Reader || smut MDNI 18+, semi public sex, pinv, secret relationship, rick'sdaughter!reader, farm!daryl, idk im sure there's more tags but im tired. this is a fantasy world where creampies don't equal babies || a/n: anon requested this awhile back and just reminded me of it during my prompt giveaway! I'm sorry this took so long my love!

The wood panels at your back groan again as Daryl drives into you, the tempo of his thrusts like sweet euphoria, each one sending little shocks of pleasure rippling through your spine.

“Fuck—” he grunts into the side of your neck, “If your—” he slams up again, his hands firm under your ass, holding you off the ground with your legs tight around his waist, “If your dad catches us—”

“He won’t,” you breathe, whimpering as his grip tightens. “Just… please, Daryl. Don’t fucking stop.”

“Been waitin’ for this,” he mutters, kissing down your throat, lips dragging over flushed skin. “For so long.”

“I know, baby,” you moan, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at the short strands at his nape. “You feel so good. So, so good—”

He groans as he sinks into you, your walls fluttering around him, stretched wide by his cock. He's so thick, so deep, and hitting places you didn’t know could ache like this. Your whole body clenches around him when he hikes one leg higher, angling deeper, and the moan that leaves your mouth is ragged, sharp, completely involuntary.

And then—

“Y/N?”

You both freeze.

Rick Grimes. Your dad, your ever present, over-bearing father. His voice is unmistakable drifting from the front of the house.

Your breath catches, eyes going wide. Daryl’s head jerks up like a deer caught in headlights. His body stills inside you, every muscle tense and almost trembling.

The voice sounds far enough away—he’s gotta be in the house, maybe the porch. He hasn’t come around back yet. You’re hidden, mostly. Behind the trees, behind the house. You doubt he'd even see you, hidden behind Daryl's body. At least at first glance. Hopefully.

Daryl starts to pull out, but you catch his face, hands sliding from his sweaty neck to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. Your lips press into his, warm and open and desperate. He exhales into your mouth, trying to stay quiet as he kisses you back, swallowing the sound of both your sighs.

You pull away just enough to murmur, “Please. Keep—”

“Y/N?” Rick calls again, closer this time.

“Shh,” you whisper, darting a quick glance over Daryl’s shoulder toward the oak trees. “Sh sh sh—just listen—”

Daryl’s jaw clenches, his brow furrowed. “We should stop. Now.”

“Please, Dare,” you whimper, hips rocking gently against him. Your voice is quiet, pleading. “He’s far away. Please, please just fuck me. I need it. I need you.”

His eyes find yours, and suddenly, his mouth crashes into yours again, tongue sweeping in as he starts to move. Slow and shallow at first, he's trying to stay quiet even though every part of him is shaking. The quiet thump of his hips against yours, the creak of the siding, the faint wet sound of him sliding in and out—it’s all too loud in the open Georgia afternoon.

“Christ,” he breathes against your mouth, “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

He groans, forehead pressed to yours as he fucks you deeper now, picking up speed. Every thrust drives a breath from your lungs, your legs tightening around his hips. You’re so close—so fucking close—and the fact that your dad is somewhere nearby, calling your name, just makes it worse. Better. Hotter.

“Dare, I-I'm so close—” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Please, Daryl—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah,” he pants, breath warm against your cheek, “Yeah, I got you, sweet girl. Come on my cock. Feels so good, don't it? Fillin' you up? Splittin' you open, huh?”

He shifts, angling just right as his filthy words tumble into your ear, hitting that spot that makes your whole body jolt. Your head slams lightly against the siding, eyes rolling back as heat coils low and tight in your belly. Your thighs tremble around his waist.

Daryl groans low in his throat, the sound strained and messy. “So fuckin’ tight, girl, holy shit—don’t stop squeezin’ me like that—”

You bring your head up to bite his shoulder just to keep from crying out, your orgasm hitting hard and fast, your body pulsing around him as you fall apart in his arms. He holds you tighter, fucking you through it, chasing his own end now, his rhythm going sloppy.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his head falling against your chest, “Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—”

You clutch at him, nails scraping down his back, pulling him as deep as he’ll go. “Do it,” you whisper, still breathless, still pulsing around him. “Come inside me, Daryl, come on—”

He groans into your neck, loud and broken, and you feel the twitch and heat of him spilling inside you as his hips stutter, buried deep. He holds you there, both of you trembling, breathless and flushed and wrecked in the golden light.

Your limbs go loose around him, boneless with satisfaction, and you laugh softly into his shoulder.

Daryl’s still holding you up, still inside you, his face buried against your collarbone. When he lifts his head, there’s a dazed kind of awe in his eyes. He smiles—soft and real, like he can’t believe he actually got to have you.

You giggle, light and breathy. “Told you he wouldn’t—”

The words die in your throat.

The sound of boots crunching in dry grass cuts through the quiet. You hear the swish of tall grass, the steady tread of someone rounding the side of the house.

Both of you freeze—tangled, sweaty, completely exposed.

And then Rick Grimes steps into the sunlight.

You, pinned against the back of the farmhouse, skirt bunched around your hips, legs locked around Daryl’s waist. Daryl’s pants are half-down, his hand still gripping your ass, his cock still buried inside you. Sweat clings to both of you, and your mouth is open, chest rising and falling.

Daryl doesn’t breathe.

Rick doesn’t blink.

“Oh, God,” you whisper.

Your dad's voice is low, furious, deadly:

“What the fuck—”

[hannyhann]

Dating Daryl Dixon (NSFW and SFW)

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

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

Dating Daryl Dixon would include;

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d put flowers in his hair as well

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Making sure you eat first is a definite

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

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

Daryl would love when you sit on his lap

He would be such a girl dad

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

Daryl visiting you while you’re pregnant at Hilltop

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

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

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

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

I hope you enjoyed <33333

[dixons-sunshine]

Big Sister | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: With your second child on the way, you and Daryl are tasked with breaking the news to your daughter. Thankfully, your daughter was more than ecstatic at the prospect of a little sibling.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post bridge explosion.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.2k.

A/N: Requested by @banshees-martin. I literally have no good reason why it took me so long to write this request. I’m so sorry for the long wait! I hope this is somewhat okay to make up for it.

Parenthood in general was not always a walk in the park. Parenthood in the apocalypse especially definitely was no leisure stroll. Raising a child before the end of the world came with its own set of challenges, but the challenges only multiplied due to the harsh world you were now forced to live in.

However, despite everything, you never, not even once, regretted embarking on the beautiful journey that is motherhood. You never regretted starting a family with Daryl. And you certainly did not regret your daughter. She was your pride and joy. She was the reason why you felt confident enough to bring up wanting another child to your husband, and why you were currently carrying your second bundle of joy in your stomach.

However, you had yet to tell Hazel about becoming an older sister in the near future, trying to think of how to approach the subject. Thankfully, Hazel—ever the curious little girl that she is—noticed your little baby bump when she clambered onto your lap a few moments prior, and she was the one to bring it up.

“Mama, why’s your belly getting so big?”

You could not help but laugh at your daughter’s innocent question. Daryl, who was seated next to you on the couch, let out a small chuckle as well, his ocean-coloured irises locking with your eyes. Should we tell her? he asked you without even needing to speak. You could read the archer like the back of your hand. Many years together provided you with that ability, an ability that very few people could say they had regarding the usually unreadable Daryl Dixon.

You nodded at him and turned back to Hazel. “You sure you wanna know? This is big girl stuff,” you began in a teasing tone, your eyes widening slightly to dramatize the situation.

Hazel nodded eagerly and pushed herself to sit upright in your lap. “I’m a big girl!”

“I don’ know,” Daryl chipped in, copying the playfulness you used earlier. “She’s only three, after all. Seems like she’s still a lil’ girl.”

Hazel gasped and shook her head, as if deeply offended by what her dad had ‘accused’ her of being. “No, I’m a big girl!” She reached forward and cupped your cheeks in her small hands, urging you to look at her. “Tell Daddy, Mama. I’m a big girl.”

“She makes a pretty convincing argument, Dar,” you ‘reluctantly’ agreed, trying to contain your laughter at your daugher’s exasperated expression, one that practically screamed at you to tell her the big secret she so desperately wanted to be a part of.

Daryl scooted closer to you and wrapped his arm around you, a small, albeit nervous smile on his face. He did not know how Hazel would react to the news that she was going to have a little sibling, but despite whatever reaction she was going to give, there was no changing the outcome. There would be a second baby regardless of how she felt about it, although it would be a relief if she was as ecstatic over the baby as the two of you were.

You carefully transferred Hazel from your lap and onto Daryl’s. With the small weight now off of your—well, technically Daryl’s—shirt, your hands carefully began tugging the fabric up, revealing the small but noticable bump there. Hazel looked at it in wonder.

“You wanna know what’s in there?” When Hazel nodded, you continued. “Your baby brother or sister.”

“A baby sissy or bubby?” Hazel asked in surprise, her eyes widening as she looked up at you. “I’m a big sissy?”

You laughed lightly and nodded. “Yes, babygirl. You’re gonna be a big sister.”

“Like Jude is to RJ?” she asked again, this time turning to Daryl for an answer.

Daryl confirmed her question with a nod of his head. “Yes, Hazelnut. Just like Jude s’to RJ.”

Hazel giggled and leaned forward to touch your belly with her small hands. Daryl steadied her to ensure she did not fall, although he could not help but chuckle fondly at her eagerness to inspect your stomach in the hopes of finding out what fluttered beyond the skin of your slowly growing stomach.

Hazel frowned adorably after a few moments of running her little hands over your abdomen. “How does baby fit?”

You smiled at her question. However, before you could even attempt an explanation, Daryl cut in. “All the mommies that have babies are superheroes. When they have a baby, their bellies get the powers needed so that the baby can fit. They keep the babies safe in their bellies while the babies grow nice ‘n strong, and when they’re ready to come out, the mommies help ‘em.”

“Is that what happened with me?” Hazel asked in wonder, her eyes sparkling up at her dad.

Daryl nodded. “Exactly what happened with you. Your mama’s amazin’, huh?”

Hazel giggled. “Mama’s a superhero!” She turned back to you with a chubby, dimpled smile. “When can I see the baby?”

“Soon, Sweetheart. They still need to grow a bit bigger and stronger though, okay?”

“Can I talk to the baby?”

“Of course you can,” you replied, leaning back slightly so that Hazel could have better access to get closer to your baby bump.

Hazel hastily leaned forward and pressed her cheek against your bump, and instantly began talking away. “Hi little baby! I’m your big sissy! Mama said you still need to grow big and strong. I hope that’s soon. I can’t wait to meet you!”

Your heart practically melted at the little interaction between your first baby and your second one in your stomach. You just knew Hazel would be the best big sister ever. She had so much love in her tiny body and she loved sharing it with the world. She was an amazing little human being.

You looked up from your daughter and locked eyes with Daryl. The archer had a small, soft smile on his face, and you could not help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach when you noticed the look of pure, unadulterated love on his face. It was the moments like these that made all the challenges that came with parenting worthwhile. Amidst all the chaos in the world run by the undead, these small, precious moments with your family was what you lived for, and you would never stop fighting for it.

You got pulled from your thoughts by Hazel sitting back up. She turned to Daryl, and the question that left her mouth had you doubling over with laughter.

“Daddy, how’d the baby get in there?”

Daryl’s eyes widened at that. He looked towards you, then back at Hazel, before looking back at you again. His eyes were begging for you to intervene, but you shook your head as if to say “you’re on your own”.

Daryl cleared his throat. “Well, uh… Um, y’know how when you wanna plant somethin’, and ya gotta… Uh…” Daryl shook his head and stood up from the couch, picking Hazel up as well. “Y’know what I think? I think s’time we get you to bed. You’re gonna need all the rest ya can get before the baby gets here. They’re gon’ wanna play with their big sissy all the time.”

That seemed to do the trick. Hazel nodded and rested her head on Daryl’s shoulder, thankfully dropping the uncomfortable subject. You sent him a mischievous smile, and he simply rolled his eyes, before beckoning you over.

“C’mon, Mama. S’time for a bedtime story.”

Smiling to yourself, you got up from the couch, adjusted your shirt, and followed your husband up the stairs. In that moment, you felt like the luckiest person alive, and it was all because of your little family.

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @thevegandarkelf (Let me know if you want to be added/removed).

[agnireed]

Walking Tension

summary 🏹 seducing your dads bestfriend proves harder than you thought

word count 🏹 8k

warnings 🏹 large age gap, mature content

“Daryl? Are you in here?”

The low committal grunt sounding through the makeshift garage area was enough for you to confirm his presence and a soft smile spread onto your face as you made your way into the small garage like area.

He didn’t even look up from whatever it was he was doing on his bike, knowing it was you already by the sound of your voice and the fact you were the only person who typically bothered him during the day like this.

“Need any help?” Your voice was high and sweet as you looked at his wide back hunched over the motorcycle but both of you knew better than that. He’d heard that same nice tone a dozen times and knew exactly what typically followed it.

The laugh he scoffed out was humorless and you would’ve felt put off by his annoyance if you weren’t the type of person you were. The type of person you were liked to get under Daryl’s skin, liked seeing his reactions to you and seeing how far he’d let you push him before he sent you on your way like always.

“Your dad send you?” He always asked the same question when you came to find him and you always gave him the same frown in return.

You wondered if he did it as a way to remind you about your father, silently placing him in the room with the two of you because you knew as well as him that your dad played no part in the reason you kept coming to him.

You didn’t bother answering him, just making your way over to where he was working and sitting yourself down on the bike seat softly so it didn’t tip too far. You were right above the section he was working on and he had no choice but to pause.

He cleared his throat in a low grunt and leaned back a little to look at you now that you were blocking his way and taking away his excuse to remain busy and ignore you. Your legs were directly in front to his face, long and bare considering you religiously wore your little frayed denim shorts around him.

It was your favorite look of his whenever you got to this moment in your interactions.

His eyes were on you through his long dark hair and for just a moment it was like he would take you in before his doors closed again and he was glaring at you in disgust.

“Can you take a break?” Your tone was still innocent and soft despite your intentions and he said nothing, even when your legs parted slightly to try to keep his attention on you.

It was rare that he actually acknowledged you for this long and you wondered if he was feeling particularly strong today in his ability to hold back or if it was something else keeping his attention.

“Run along somewhere else girl.” His response was short and rough, yours legs closing at the same time a pout formed harder on your pretty face.

“You’re no fun Dixon.” You let your voice take on a bit of a whine and normally by now you would take the loss and leave. You’d swing your hips and tell him where to find you (he never did) and then you’d try again the next day.

But something about today felt different and you decided to hold out a bit longer to try and test that theory. He also seemed momentarily taken back by the fact you weren’t getting up and leaving and you took advantage of the fact he was watching you, spreading your legs again.

Your shorts were so small that you knew he could easily see the fabric of your best pair of panties you only wore for him, the shine of your thighs from the hot summer air.

Daryl was a strong man and his expression didn’t change once to reveal what he was thinking, if anything, but the way his eyes darted to your core and back up again was all you needed to consider this day a win.

He avoided you outside of these little interactions and you didn’t necessarily blame him considering you were clearly after a certain objective with him and he’d be an idiot to not realize how badly you were determined to get what you wanted.

“Just let me help you.” You framed the soft words like you were referring to the work he was doing on the bike but you both knew that’s not what you were implying.

“Said run along.” His voice was gruff when he finally spoke again and the sound went straight to the building heat in your stomach, your eyes flashing in excitement at his response which only seemed to annoy him further. “Always looking for trouble.”

The emphasis in his words wasn’t far from the truth considering how long you’d been playing this one sided game with him.

You’d not really looked his way when him and his brother first joined your camp back by the quarry and it wasn’t until your dad came back without Merle that he started to catch your eye.

You loved your dad but there was something about Daryl and his resistance towards him and Shane that made you more interested than you should’ve been. He didn’t seem to notice you following him around until you had gotten to the CDC and spent the night drinking.

It was the perfect excuse to find yourself outside of his door with a half empty bottle in your hand, smirking at him when he opened the door and questioned if you were even old enough to be drinking.

He’d shut you down pretty quickly that night too but you could tell he was acting different the next morning, most likely thinking he read the situation wrong and feeling guilty for blaming Rick’s innocent young daughter who just wanted some company.

After you’d gotten to the farm, he quickly realized he had been perfectly correct in his assumption that night and you most definitely were hitting on him.

You did it again after he had gotten shot and there you were, sitting on his bed side with your hand on his bare chest under the excuse of checking his pulse. The look in your eye was dangerous and he was both thankful and humiliated when Maggie opened the door and saw the two of you sitting so close.

He figured he was probably losing his mind thinking that somebody who looked like you and was your age was making a move on him but you proved him right again and again.

You’d never wanted somebody as bad as you wanted Daryl and you were determined to make it a reality.

It was easy to accept defeat today in the garage considering it felt like your biggest victory yet and he knew he had fucked up when you left the building with a big smile and a little hop in your steps.

Now a few days had passed and he was starting to wonder why you weren’t trying to talk to him again. It made him feel slightly sick that he was even thinking about it instead of just being glad your attention was finally off of him but something about it was bugging him and he quickly realized why when he was finally finding you in the cafeteria.

You were talking to one of the newcomers from Woodbury, someone much closer to your age and clearly interested in the way you were curling your hair around your finger and leaning closer as you giggled at whatever he was saying.

Daryl watched you from near the stairs and didn’t bother to hide the scowl forming when your hand was laying on the dudes arm and squeezing it lightly.

He wondered if you knew how you looked to other people, hell he wondered if your dad had any idea what they all thought of you with your big doe eyes and the tiny shorts that showed off a blinding amount of skin.

You definitely knew considering how often you’d parade around with that sweet grin, asking men for favors or help with simple task and ignoring the way their wives or girlfriends glared in your direction when they eagerly offered to assist you.

And you definitely knew the effect you had on him considering you were turning your head to find him now and somehow immediately making eye contact.

He felt a sense of something when you were automatically leaving behind the guy you were flirting with and finding your way over to him but he quickly shut that feeling down the best he could. It didn’t matter considering you were by his side in a matter of seconds.

The room was filing up quickly now that the food was ready to be served and it was getting nosier and more crowded, the perfect excuse for you to press close to Daryl to make sure he could hear what you were going to be telling him.

“Did you miss me?” Your voice was in his ear and a shudder ran through him embarrassingly enough, made even worse by the amused look in your eye.

“Where’s your old man at?” He was once again reminding you of your father before you could do anything further, giving you an opportunity to cut it out and go find somebody your own age to talk to.

“Not here.” Your response was quick and steady due to your impatience and you watched him chew the inside of his cheek and grunt softly.

You wanted him to snap and lose control enough that he’d finally give you what you wanted after months of watching his big arms work on cars and his hands shave wood down to a small point.

But you knew better than that by now and had long ago accepted that Daryl wasn’t going to just hit a breaking point and take you the way you wanted. He was going to need to be coached the entire way and you’d be the one making all the moves if you ever wanted to get anywhere with him.

“You didn’t come looking for me.” You were pouting a bit now and looking up at him with those signature big eyes, your hand coming up to touch along the jagged hem of his leather vest.

He glanced down at your wandering hand but didn’t say anything, just tensing up since you normally didn’t touch him during your teasing and especially not where somebody else could see you.

“Seemed busy.” His gaze was on you suddenly, something rare enough that you got nervous, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was talking about the guy you were flirting with.

His face was giving away absolutely nothing but excitement ran through you at him clearly caring enough to bring it up.

Daryl was a man of few words and you learned a long time ago that everything he said had a purpose, even if it was hard to understand at first. You assumed what this one was immediately and he seemed to regret saying it when you were turning your body even more so you were standing halfway in front of him now and practically caging him against the wall.

“He wants to fuck me you know.” You kept your voice steady and low enough that nobody passing by would hear what you were saying but there was no way the man across from you missed it.

His eyes stayed the same as they always were, intense and flat as he peered down at you, but you knew your words affected him even if he was scarily good at masking it.

“He say that?” His next words came out in a low grunt but you were surprised he responded to your obvious bait at all.

This was normally around the time he was telling you to leave him alone out right or ignoring you until you got bored and impatient, opting to try again another day instead. Another rush of excitement ran through you at his slight show of interest and he could tell by the way your eyes lit up like an eager kid.

“A girl can just tell when a man wants her under him.” You were too close to him now and you both knew it, taking a small step forward until the toe of your shoes could’ve touched his. “When he’s thinking about her in a way he shouldn’t.”

Your hand was flat on his chest now and you could feel the way his heart was beating through his vest and shirt, surprised he was so affected considering how blank his expression still was. You blinked up at him through your eyelashes and he looked like he was finally going to say something before you heard a voice calling him from the other side of the cell block.

He immediately stepped sideways so he wasn’t pinned against the wall by you and you frowned when your hand fell off of him and landed back by your side, watching as he left you there with a quick throat clear and an awkward glance.

It was only slightly satisfying that he let you go further than normal but you were still growing frustrated with the constant interruptions, both by him and others.

Apparently the call of his name was somebody coming to tell him about a run happening that day because you didn’t see him at all for the next few hours, eventually asking your dad where he’d gone and pouting when he gave you the list of names that had left the prison for supplies.

Your dad had laughed slightly at your upset expression, making a quick comment about how much you admired Daryl that made you roll your eyes and huff your way out of the courtyard.

He didn’t even know half of what you felt towards Daryl and you couldn’t help but be bitter that your father happened to be the one person the older man truly respected and wouldn’t go against.

You spent the rest of the day in your cell feeling a bit like a princess locked in her tower, almost deluding yourself into thinking you were close to getting what you wanted by the time you heard the gates opening and cars on the gravel road.

A few minutes passed of you excitedly biting your lip and waiting for everybody to come inside and get ready for bed, not wanting to be too eager by running outside to meet them by the entrance.

Most of the people who had been around you since the beginning (minus your oblivious dad) had gathered you had a liking for Daryl but you didn’t need them to realize it was a lot more than just a young girls crush. Especially if you wanted him to ever give into you, something he’d never do if he knew Carol and Maggie shot you amused glances everytime you asked where he was.

By the time you heard a few deep sighs and cell doors closing you were getting up to go and find him.

Your excitement made your feet sound a little louder as you speed walked down the metal steps of your cell block before heading to the one directly next to yours, the two that had been cleared out for your closest group and their families and partners.

You slowed down when you entered it and saw Glenn and Maggie sitting together near the staircase, her face red and teary where it laid in his shoulder. You could tell something was wrong and you faltered long enough for her to look up at you and give you a heavy glance, face pursing as she nodded up towards the second tier rooms.

She clearly knew you were looking for Daryl and you would have stopped and asked her what was wrong if it wasn’t for the heavy air in the cell block and the fact Glenn was already comforting her.

You still offered her a light squeeze of her shoulder as you passed them on the stairs and made your way up to the top, stopping again when you finally located the person you were looking for.

He didn’t notice you for a few seconds considering he was far too busy staring downwards at the big blue eyes of the girl who had just been wrapped around him in a tight hug but when he did, you immediately saw the worry on his face.

Your own expression steeled up and you watched his shoulders sag in defeat like he already knew you were going to make a big deal out of this, proven correct by the fact you were turning on your heel and stomping your way back to your cell.

It genuinely surprised you when he was following through your sheet door just a few breaths after you, not at all expecting him to come after you.

“It ain’t like that.” He continued to surprise you by speaking first, hands jutted out from his body like he was talking down a wild animal.

You might as well have been considering the way you glared at him, your chest rising and falling with heavy upset breaths. You felt beyond childish and ridiculous due to the fact you couldn’t get any of your angry words out, throat clogged up as you just stared at him standing in your cell.

It barely got processed that this was his first time ever being in here with you, ever being in such a small space alone together in general and you imagine you would have been more excited about this if it wasn’t for the hot jealously in your bloodstream.

“Can you calm down girl.” He sounded as gruff and impatient as ever and you hated that you immediately pouted at the sound of him scolding you.

He surprisingly wasn’t flinching away when you were suddenly in his space, just leaning back against your wall like you weren’t pushing your chest against his and letting your hands rest over his heart again.

You liked to feel how fast it started to race whenever you were getting under his skin, knowing how nervous you made him with your tempting advances.

“I’m sorry.” Your eyes were wide and innocent when you looked up at him and you barely saw his darken but that was enough to spur you on, the only sign you needed that he wanted this as much as you both knew you did. “I just got upset seeing her touch you like that.”

“Ain’t like anything.” His voice vibrated through his chest and one of your hands pushed under the leather of his vest, rubbing the fabric of his shirt.

The pout you kept on your face as you started to take steps backward was deadly and as stubborn as he was, he was still a man. He followed you forward, only slightly urged by the tug on his vest, and when you sat down on the bottom bunk of the bed; he kept his eyes locked on you and the way you looked at him.

“Lay with me?” The question was innocent enough but you both knew better and he was turning his head to look at the measly cloth covering your cell.

Anybody walking past could potentially hear your conversation or even the slight shuffle of his feet as he kicked his boots off. Although nobody was rude enough to enter without announcing themselves, it’s not like you could sneak him out the back window.

That made it all the more exciting that he was seemingly agreeing despite the risk, moving his boots under your bed so they were out of the way and watching you expectantly.

You got out of the bed so he could climb in first (slightly trapping him between you and the wall) and you would have laughed at how tense his body was when he laid down if you weren’t already toeing the line before he typically rejected you and left.

You’d never been close to Daryl like this, the twin bed being so small you had no choice but to practically curl around his side and his entire body was stiffening up when you laid your head down on his shoulder.

“Did it go bad today?” Your voice was soft and you wondered how long it had been since you had an actual conversation without the wanting purr in your voice or the tension in the air.

He didn’t respond out loud but you hadn’t expected him too, accepting the low hum as him not wanting to talk about it.

It went silent again except for his deep breath when your arm wrapped around his chest and you picked your head up to be able to look at his face, scanning over his features from this new angle.

“Shouldn’t be going out there anymore.” He was talking again barely above a whisper and you knew he was referring to the fact you’d been going on runs more now that your dad had stepped back and you were getting older.

“I’m not a kid Daryl.” You had a light smile on your face as you said it but it was gone when he responded with a low scoff, like what you said was ridiculous. “I mean it, I’m not.”

You emphasized the statement by moving your hand down his chest, resting on his stomach instead and pushing lower until you were just near where his belly button would be. He was stiff and silent again but he’d never let you touch him like this before so you were practically vibrating from excitement.

His hand was roughly gripping your wrist when you brushed the leather on his belt but he didn’t throw you off of him, just stopping you from going any further down.

He looked pained when you moved your gaze back to his face and your pout formed again, catching on to the fact it seemed to be a weakness he had.

Clearly you were right considering he was using his grip on your wrist to move your hand back up to his stomach, letting it rest there surprisingly. He was finally taking his hand away and you almost mourned the loss of contact if it wasn’t for the fact he was bringing it upwards to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Why are you fighting this Daryl, why are you fighting me?” You brought your voice back down to a whisper and his eyes watched your lips as you spoke.

“Ain’t no pervert.” He was quick to respond this time and his rough knuckle gently rubbing over the smooth skin on your cheek, another obvious showcase of your differences. “Too young to want me like this.”

“I know you’re not a pervert.” You leaned into his touch and a small breath escaped him at the action. “But I am.”

He let out a short laugh at your blunt statement and you couldn’t help but smile down at him, glad he was relaxing somewhat even if his body was still tense against yours and he wasn’t letting you touch him yet.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve laid right here thinking about you.” Your voice sounded more familiar to him now, that typical low purr like you were trying to lure him in for the kill. “Touching myself wishing it was you.”

His eyes shut quickly almost like he was pained by what you were saying and the smirk playing on your lips nearly slipped through, hand running down his stomach again and feeling a surge of excitement when he made no move to stop you this time.

“Quit.” The gruffness barely registered in your ears and you pouted when he was shaking his head (more towards himself than you). “Stop runnin your mouth.”

“You could stuff it.” You were leaning in to whisper the words into his ear now and your hand was pushing up his shirt just enough that you could feel the trail of hair leading down into his jeans. “That would shut me up.”

His hips instinctively lifted off the bed at the feeling of your fingers drifting under his waistband and your mouth parted at how manly he really was, prominent happy trail accompanied by the earthly smell being enough to drive you even further in your fantasies about your age gap and the sheer difference between the two of you.

“Always working so hard to keep us all safe, just let me take care of you.” You were pushing past the point of no return with a graze of a kiss against his neck, hand under his belt now and lifting the waistband of his boxers.

Daryl surprisingly said nothing as you wrapped your hand around him but you could hear him grunting and feel the vibrations against your lips that were licking and sucking his warm skin, painting marks on his neck and whining softly when you felt how hard he was getting from the small movements.

His big rough hand was cupping your forearm again but this time he wasn’t trying to stop you from touching him, instead attempting to ground himself as you started to stroke him the best you could with the restriction of his jeans.

“Bet you’d fuck me so good.” You couldn’t stop yourself from breathing out the words to him even though part of you figured more dirty talk would scare him away faster, mouth still moving against his neck and jaw as you spoke in between the kissing. “Cock this big would stretch me open, might have to force me to take it.”

You were practically moaning even though he hadn’t touched you outside of the tight grip on your arm, overly turned on just because you had him in this position finally.

The words you were whispering had already made him close his eyes in a pained squint with his mouth parted to try to stop himself from grunting too loud, not at all engaging outside of allowing you to get him off with your small hand.

You were just breaking another kiss against his neck to speak again when you heard light shuffling right outside your blanket door, most likely just somebody walking around restless from the hard day but the small noise was enough for Daryl to completely stiffen up and throw you off of him before you could even process it.

He was up and off the bed quicker than your head could turn to stare at him and you watched with wide eyes as he threw the curtains open and disappeared down the prison hallway.

——

Leaving your room the next day was harder than you had imagined it would be and for the first time in a long time you felt yourself overwhelmed with embarrassment, an emotion not very common for you considering how hard you’d worked to be overly confident at all times.

“Something the matter?” Tyreese had the type of calming voice that always seemed to get into the corners of your frantic mind you sometimes didn’t even recognize, shoulders losing some tension as you sighed and glanced at him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Just a long night.” You settled for the routine answer that any member of your group would give whenever the looked particularly troubled, a silent understanding that some things were just too hard to talk about.

He nodded with his pursed lips forming a light smile and you returned it when he was squeezing your arm softly and walking away, leaving you standing there in the common area and sighing to yourself again.

Daryl was nowhere to be seen for most of the day but you weren’t surprised by that, figuring he’d make himself scarce both to avoid you and because the guilt he’d feel whenever he’d speak to your dad or little brother.

Eventually the sun was setting again and almost like clockwork you were seeking him out, finding him in the corner of the cafeteria block speaking in a low voice to Carol and Beth.

You stayed still and watched him very carefully as he interacted with them both, your eyes scanning over his casual posture and the way he watched Carol as she walked away. Something nasty settled into your stomach at the same time as he squeezed Beth’s arm softly in some form of reassurance, almost exactly what Tyreese had done to you earlier but this left you silently fuming.

He had his shift in the watch tower tonight and you followed him up there after about an hour, making sure everybody else would be asleep so there was no room for interruption.

You didn’t knock on the door but you did push it open slowly enough that he could assume you weren’t a threat and wouldn’t be alarmed enough to defend himself. Peeking your head around the frame to see him in a tense position before sighing when he saw it was you.

There was no greeting or attempt at small talk and instead he went straight into ignoring you, pretending you weren’t leaning against the wall and watching him and he laid out a sleeping bag on the floor.

“I’m older than Beth.” Your voice was a little too loud for how silent the night air was but it got his attention at least and he paused to look at you for a second, face clouded in irritated confusion as he failed to see your point. “Why is it okay with her?”

“You’re ridiculous.” His answer was immediately delivered in a scoff as he stood to his full height, glaring at you from across the room.

“You’ve thought about her.” Your tone left no room for argument and he didn’t respond this time, chest falling and rising from the angry breaths he was taking.

He shocked you by being the first to approach, crossing the room in wide strides that would have scared you if you didn’t already know that Daryl would never hurt you even with the amount of upset radiating off of him.

You both stayed like that for a few silent moments, you with your back pressed against the wall and a calm gaze staring up at him and him full of emotion as he watched you carefully. The tip of his boots were almost touching your shoes from how close he was and you did nothing but watch him and wait.

“Listen closely little girl.” You could feel his breath on your face when he spoke and you instinctively leaned forward, satisfied when he didn’t move back and you could feel his chest against yours for just a second before his hand was pushing you back against the wall. “It ain’t like that.”

“But it could be.” Your voice came out in a whisper which confused you because you didn’t even realize you were speaking so softly, hand finding its favorite place on the hem of his leather vest. “I wouldn’t tell on you.”

You could’ve sworn that you heard his breath stagger when your hand was on him again, most likely remembering the last time you and him were in this position.

“Ain’t like that.” His tone had completely changed now as he looked down at you and you would’ve smiled at the obvious signs that he was giving in to you but you didn’t want to snap him out of it and remind him why you shouldn’t be talking like that.

“It is like that and you know it is.” You were nodding your head along your own words as you spoke and he was just standing there, watching you as you smoothed your palm over his chest and rubbed over his shoulder before going back downwards. “Come talk to me when you accept that.”

He seemed confused and (possible wishful thinking) disappointment when you were dragging your hand slowly off of him and returning it back to your side, watching him closely for a breath or two before sliding sideways and stepping back towards the stairs.

You didn’t expect him to stop you and he didn’t surprise you by doing so, letting you leave even though the conversation felt more open than it ever had.

——

It almost felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on you by having your dad come and tell you that a run was scheduled for the next day.

Not only had you stayed up late, waiting for everyone to fall asleep so you could go and have another pointless argument with Daryl, but sleep hadn’t come easy at all. Apparently this was all having some weird effect on your conscious even though you still didn’t believe you were doing anything wrong in your pursuit.

Your dad had given little details but you knew that there wasn’t a run in the world that Daryl wouldn’t volunteer for and your stomach twisted in excitement at the thought of him being stuck around you for any amount of time.

He clearly didn’t share the same feelings because you could see his face drop as soon as he realized you were following your dad and Michonne past the gates as you approached the van and Daryl’s bike.

“Hell no.” He was quick to voice his disagreement and your dad sighed in a way that let you know they’d had a conversation about this before. “I told you I ain’t babysit.”

You felt the immediate sting of offense at his comment and your glare turned sharp as you looked at him, perched on the leather seat of his motorcycle and avoiding your piercing gaze that you knew he could feel.

“I don’t like it either, but she’s ready.” Your father had turned to give you a quick glance and your shoulders squared at the pride swimming in his gaze, knowing it was a big deal for him to be watching one of his children leave the safety of the prison even if you were an adult. “And I trust you more than anybody.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that there was nobody else down by the entrance gates and you only just noticed the fact Michonne had started to saddle up a horse and scribble on a small map.

Daryl seemed to process that you were going on the run together without anybody else at the same time as you did and his face grew darker whilst you broke out into a grin.

“We’ll be fine.” You were eager in the way you turned to plant a kiss on your dad’s cheek before taking a few steps closer to the archer who was watching you now with a scowl. “Right daddy?”

Your father clearly thought you were addressing him and attempting to get some type of comfort about your safety, nodding his head and starting to speak about something regarding the route you were meant to take.

Daryl wasn’t as foolish as his friend and knew exactly what you were doing, eyes locked on yours as you waited to see how long it would take for him to break away. He surprised you by holding your heated gaze until your dad was raising his voice as he wished you good luck and safe returns, giving him a quick head nod before he was clearing his throat and starting up his bike.

You were overly giddy as you approached and pulled yourself onto the back of it, sliding on easily and wasting no time before you were wrapping your arms around his middle.

He made a small grunting noise of annoyance at the feeling of your hands on his stomach but you ignored it until you were pulling away from the prison and out of sight of the other group members, squeezing him tighter and resting your head on his back now that you were in the free world.

If he was surprised that you didn’t try anything then he didn’t show it but you wondered if he thought about it.

Daryl couldn’t seem to figure out and your intentions out and every little thing you did threw him off more. He had come to terms with the fact that you wanted him in ways you shouldn’t, for whatever strange reason you did, but the way you looked at him occasionally (when you weren’t trying to get in his pants) was even more confusing.

The same type of confusion that stemmed from the way you softly rested your head on his back and kept it there for the entire hour ride to the small strip mall circled on the map.

You didn’t even complain when the bike eventually stopped and you climbed off slowly although he could see you wince from pain the stretch of your legs and vibration of the motor

caused.

“Good?” His voice was more hoarse than normal from how tight his throat had been the entire ride and your big round eyes looked up at him in surprise, looking the most innocent you had since the first few months he met you.

He could remember you back then clearly, a lost and confused girl who had just lost her father and went through the end of the world nearly alone. Lori had been overly concerned and paranoid about Carl and when she wasn’t doing that, she was off in the woods with Shane.

Daryl could remember sitting there at a dying fire, night after night, and watching the look on your young face as she brushed your brother’s hair or went off into the woods with the former officer.

He knew you were pretty, he’d be an idiot to not notice it, but he had never thought for a second past the initial observation. There had been a handful of times that he had to shut down Merle’s plans to make a pass at you, barking out the fact you were just a kid.

There had been dozen of things that Daryl had done when he was your age that proved he wasn’t just some kid but the soft look on your face was enough for him to feel a pang of panic the first time your gaze turned heated while looking at him.

“It’s been awhile.” Your voice was as soft as it was back then as you spoke and for a second he had forgotten what he asked you before your eyes drifted back over to the parked bike.

He nodded his head and gave no further reply despite the immediate regret at the dismissive action.

You did a good job following behind Daryl and listening for his almost silent cues about where to go and when, easily clearing the front room of the strip mall that would give you access to the connect stores.

He’d almost forgotten that you existed outside the prison and that you had survived for a long time, he’d almost forgotten you existed outside of his head at all.

It made him feel that much more stupid that you were effortlessly searching shelves and moving around seemingly finished off walkers while he could barely focus on where he was stepping. You had become his biggest distraction without him even realizing it and his eyes were locked on you the entire time, ignoring possibly good supplies around him.

You could feel his eyes on you and it was taking everything in your body to not smile at the knowledge, knowing he was constantly one stint of embarrassment away from closing off on you.

You’d picked up on the fact that Daryl had an issue with you ignoring him back at the prison with the random guy from Woodbury, seeing him get so irritated that he had actually pressed you on your advances for once.

The fact that was something that made the older man tick was bringing so much excitement to you that it was almost impossible to pretend to be impartial.

Your eyes widened when he opened the door to the next hallway and all you could see was knocked over shelves and cabinets. It looked almost unmovable but you stared at it long enough to see small wedges in between some of the metal, glancing over your shoulder to see if Daryl had noticed the same thing.

His eyes were already on you and he gave you a quick nod, waiting until you pressed you back against the door before he was moving forward and inching into the hallway.

For once your lust for him was coming secondary to concern as you watched him get deeper into the dark tight space, neither of you knowing what was on the other side or in between the fallen shelves.

You could hear him whistle under his breath and you perked up at the subtle command, scooting forward exactly like he did. Your smaller size allowed you to get there much faster than he did and he tensed up when he felt your hand wrapping around his bare arm.

“You won’t fit. I’ll go.” Your voice was lower than a whisper and you rocked onto your tippy toes so you were closer to his ear.

He shot you a glare at the suggestion and it was just bright enough that you could see the hardness on his face at the idea of you going forward alone into a space he couldn’t easily get to.

“Ain’t happening.” He was shaking his head and chewing the inside of his lip, your hand tightening around his arm until you released your grip and softly rubbed it absentmindedly. “Your dad wou-“

“My dad isn’t here.” You got louder than you should’ve and you both immediately held your breath to listen in and make sure nothing had heard your small outburst, annoyed at his constant need to place your father between you even in times like this. “I’m here and you’re too big to fit.”

Although you had lowered your voice back to a whisper, he still was tense as he stared down at you.

You sighed softly at his stubbornness but the fact that you were stood toe to toe in a dark and tight space was catching up to you, a low heat building in your stomach despite the danger on both sides of the hallway.

He didn’t even seem to be breathing as your hand rubbed up his arm before coming to his neck, trailing along it and eventually cupping his jaw in a way that made him tilt his head against the touch. You figured it was instinctive but you still smiled at the smallest show of acceptance from him.

Daryl was both tired from the long day and overly frustrated after being around you alone without your attention on him so he didn’t stop you when you were leaning against his chest and pulling his face down towards yours.

Your lips just barely grazed his before you were pausing and looking through your eyelashes at him, pleased to see his gaze had turned low and heated. He clearly was about to let you kiss him but you knew the run was too important to let yourself get distracted even if the opportunity was one of a kind.

“Let’s hurry up and get out of here.” Your familiar purr of a voice was back and he almost nodded in acceptance before remembering what you had been requesting and steeling up.

“Nah.” He was quick to step back away from you and you could do nothing but call his name as he ducked under a fallen cabinet and disappeared down the hallway, leaving the stretch of light that had allowed you to make out his figure moving in front of you.

You stood there for a few silent seconds with your heart in your throat, pounding so hard you thought you might get sick. You couldn’t hear him moving through the dark anymore and you were starting to quickly panic.

“Daryl.” Your voice came out louder than it should’ve and you pulled your knife back out of its holster, glancing behind you with fearful eyes at the sound of walkers groaning and searching for the source of the noise. “Daryl please.”

You knew it was stupid to continue to call out to him but you were driven forward by worry for him as you went more breaths without an answer from the other side of the hallway.

Whispered curses escaped you as you gritted your teeth and put your knife back as you readied yourself to duck under the metal and follow him into the dark, only getting to slightly bend over before you felt something grabbing roughly at your ankle.

Being unprepared allowed the walker to immediately pull your foot from out underneath you and you hit the ground so hard you saw stars for a second, gaining awareness at the exact moment you realized you had been screaming.

You were quickly at the walker with a fearful sob as you tried to search for your knife that had fallen loose from its holster, a breathy gasp leaving you when you heard the metal shelf above you shaking and whining from the force of the walker pressing into it.

You were stuck between being crushed by the weight of it and pushing yourself closer to the walker, its hands digging deep into the fabric of your boot in an attempt to drag you closer to its snapping jaw. The silent hallway had exploded in the sounds of you fighting to escape so you barely heard the metal being thrown around behind you.

Daryl had cleared the hallway in a fraction of the time it took him to get through it and you slumped fully against the floor when his boot was coming down hard on the walkers head.

You scrambled backwards to get away from the gore as he delivered a few more unnecessary stomps, grunts of anger escaping him that made you jump a little with each sound.

“Daryl.” Your soft and scared voice calling out for him seemed to immediately pull him back out of his rage and his gaze snapped over to you, entire face softening when he saw the expression you had.

He was quick to lower himself on the floor next to you, seemingly not even noticing the blood and remained of the skull he’d just smashed seeping into the fabric of his jeans. His rough hand was coming softly to cup the back of your head and help you sit up, being abandoned in the air when you quickly got to your knees and threw yourself against him in a hug.

“You’re alright, I got you.” His low voice and reassurance was lighting a spark in your emotions and you embarrassingly felt a sob build up, swallowing it and focusing on the vibrations of his chest against your cheek.

“I should’ve listened to you.” Your words were muffled but he squeezed your shoulders tighter at the sound of you placing blame on yourself. “I’ll stay at the prison.”

You lifted your head just enough to be able to see the pained look on his face, torn between the thought of you being out here with him where it was dangerous versus the idea that you’d be back home where he couldn’t protect you.

The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds, staring at each other and weighing your options and the fact that your life could have been over if one factor was slightly different.

He seemed to know what you were planning before you even shifted because suddenly his lips were pressed against yours and you couldn’t tell who initiated it.

Daryl kissing you felt like everything suddenly clicked and you couldn’t imagine a world where something this good could lead to anything wrong. You were quick to kiss him back with all the passion and none of the experience, mouth moving desperately against his.

The feeling of your hands on his vest and arms was familiar by now but he still tensed at the skin on skin contact, immediately distracted by the whine you let out when his bicep flexed as he shifted his weight.

“Please.” Your voice was breathy and he almost felt like he was going to pass out hearing it.

If he thought you were an issue to his focus before than he was definitely screwed now seeing you look up at him with your swollen lips and pleading eyes, looking like you’d just pass away if he didn’t give you what you wanted.

Daryl had come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was a long time ago and he knew it was only a matter of time but that still didn’t prepare him for how he’d feel after almost losing you and having to live a life of regret and missed opportunity.

For once, he didn’t have a second thought when he was laying against the ground as gently as he could and the resolve finally ran out when he followed right after.

[sleepyangelkami]

AHH I’m seriously so jealous of your writing😭 can you write something about carls girl never realizing when people are flirting with her and he doesn’t get jelly but can help but get a little protective? ❣️❣️

OBLIVIOUS c.grimes

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.1K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - oblivion was your middle name, never seeing the various places flirting came from. but carl noticed. of course he noticed. and with your harmless oblivion, he had to take action into his own hands.

 ☆ WARNINGS - ditzy + oblivious!reader, ron, flirting, protectiveness, (3) use of y/n, petnames, intended lowercase, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

carl wouldn't exactly say he had a 'wide group of friends'.

when they moved into alexandria, carl had already been on the road so long that he'd lost interest in people his age. he preferred the strong fighters he stood by like his father and daryl. he didn't seem to have much time for anyone else.

well, anyone but you.

you were the opposite of them, friendly and kind, oblivious as a bat.

rick adored the fact that even in a world like their own, his son had managed to find love. he'd let you into the family with open arms, seeing nothing but pure intentions behind your pretty smile that had half the town whipped. if only you'd glanced around to notice. you were too busy trying to avoid the poles you almost walked into, though.

but despite his love for his sons loving nature of his own, he worried for him. he was constantly on his back about being a 'normal teenager' he was supposed to grow old surrounded by people, not just wither away when you weren't around.

this was what possessed carl to invite ron over. well, technically he didn't invite him over, rick did, and technically, it was supposed to be ron, mickey and enid. however, enid and ron had just recently broke up and mickey was trying to support her through it (they were stealing whiskey from his dad's liquor cabinet.)

he would have invited you over too, if only ron wasn't so... "hey, man, so where's y/n?"

carl couldn't help but roll his eyes before picking up his console controller. the only good thing about ron coming over was the fact that carl got to absolutely obliterate him in console games. which was sort of embarrassing for ron seeing as carl had spent his childhood fighting off the real things they fought against in pixles. "at home." he answered sourly.

cue the oblivion.

you'd been friends with ron longer than you'd known carl. but that didn't mean anything to him. you were friends with everyone. the only problem was that you were completely oblivious to the fact that he was downright in love with you.

carl wasn't exactly jealous, no, he had more faith in you than that.

however, he'd be lying if he didn't find himself bubbling over every time your name slipped from between his chapped lips. ron barely knew you. you were carl's.

"ah." smacking his lips together annoyingly as he sat against the cushion beneath him, cushioning him from the carpet. yes, ron needed cushioning from the carpet. "she's always been like that, a hermit, that one." as if he'd known you for centuries.

carl barely glanced forward, a look of un-amusement on his face before turning back to the screen.

ron stuffed his face with the chips next to him. "what?" voice all muffled.

carl didn't even get to answer for before his lips so much as parted, a sound was heard from the front of his house. he could make out your girlish giggles before he could hear the door open and close. you were such a soft person but there was nothing soft in the way you tossed the door closed excitedly. "carl!" your voice echoed through the house, stopping his heart momentarily.

there was something so regretful about ron perking up on carl's living room floor. your giggles slowed to a stop and carl saw you standing in the doorway, glancing at ron as your smile faded. "hey, baby." ignoring the look across your face.

you weren't sad ron was here, you were happy carl was hanging out with people. it was more confusion, he hadn't mentioned this. you shrugged it off, thinking perhaps it was a surprise visit. you did like surprises. you didn't so much as think twice, the sound of his voice soothing you and turning your brain to mush.

"hi! hi ron." smile suddenly returning. carl always found it funny, how quickly your expressions could change. but he liked you this way, easy to read. "look what I made!"

you were prancing over to where he stood on the couch within seconds. carl watched as you let wool unravel.

there wasn't much to do around alexandria seeing as you worked in the gardens most days and some days it was much too rainy or muddy so you spent most your time in your room and with carl, of course. sometimes both.

when you'd told carl weeks ago that you'd decided to take up crocheting he looked at you funny, wondering what the hell was a crochet.

you'd read somewhere about it and told him it was basically knitting. then he asked why you couldn't simply knit. he didn't get it, you realised.

nonetheless, he'd been awfully supportive as you came about this new hobby. he watched the pink and white wool against the couch, made yourself with some new stitch you'd learned. there were bows on it too which only made the boy smile. he was sure that if he entered his bedroom now, there'd be at least twenty bows he could spot somewhere around the room that you'd left.

perhaps you were marking your territory.

"wow." he gushed at the piece of fabric. "that's amazing, sweetheart." watching your cheeks go pink.

ron watched from his space on the floor, swallowing the crunchy chips in his mouth. you were close with carl. of course you were he was your boyfriend. but even so, you were close with carl.

always cuddling up to him, getting so close. come to think about it, there wasn't much times he'd seen you both in the same room and not touching. if you weren't, you were usually busy wandering off leaving a distressed carl behind you, holding his hat on his head as he searched for your whereabouts.

a 'thank you' was on the tip of your lips, ready to thank the boy for his constant praise. how could he not? you were making blankets now, that could benefit the whole community. and you'd already given away at least a dozen. "yeah, that's really amazing." ron intervened.

truthfully, you'd almost forgotten he was here.

you'd turned your head to him, little guilt swirling in your veins. you were probably interrupting their 'bro time'. "thanks, ron."

"'course, y/n." the way he said your name had carl's stomach feeling off. "can I see it?"

of course you were much too oblivious to think anything of it, the sweet "sure!" leaving your mouth. carl watched you part from his side, sitting next to ron on the carpet, avoiding the chips that were spilling onto the ground and passing him the blanket.

"wow." his praise seemed sort of... forced but it felt good nonetheless. praise from anyone nowadays felt good. "this is just amazing, you have to teach me some day."

his tone was nothing short of suggestive. luckily for carl, he wasn't the jealous type, at least not with ron anderson. he had enough to be thinking about, like a break in on alexandria and someone mauling you in your sleep. he didn't waste a second thinking of you running off with ron. there wasn't a chance in the galaxy. but that didn't help the knot in his stomach.

not jealousy. but he didn't like the way his hands were straying so close to yours.

you were too ditzy to notice anything of it. but that was the whole thing. you didn't take notice of much, always confused, the perfect target for anyone to prey on.

now, carl didn't exactly think ron was a bad person. however, he wasn't so inclined to leave the both of you alone, he was sure that whether or not you were with carl and whether or not he had been with enid, ron wouldn't hesitate to make a move. and you'd be stuck not knowing what to do, too afraid of hurting someone elses feelings.

"okay." you shrugged your shoulders, missing carl's touch too much to think about teaching ron how to crochet. you often did this, letting your mind stray to the things most important.

like carl, for example. you did it at the worst of times. perhaps you were having an interesting conversation with enid but she spent a little too long getting to the point. before you know it, your mind is on carl or something or other. you moved so fast, never grasping what was said to you. carl always found it sort of adorable. especially when it was you that was telling the stories, venturing off to your side quests along the way.

"yeah?" you didn't nod nor did you answer, your eyes were grazing the blanket and carl could tell you were far away. "how about friday?" this snapped you back, though.

you pondered for a brief moment. you thought nothing of the interaction aside from the fact that you'd have to teach the boy to crochet. you couldn't really teach anyone to do anything, much too side tracked.

you didn't pick up on the way his head moved, his lips quirked and his body leaned into your own, eyes flickering up to carl as his own mouth opened.

"she can't." he answered for you. you were lucky, you knew so much. with carl around, you hardly ever had to think. imagine being so comfortable, to not even have to use your brain. you always joked that he was going to make you lazy. brain dead, even. "we're doing something together."

this you perked up at. "we are?" excitedly turning to the boy as you pondered what it was you could be doing this friday. he often took you outside the walls, leaning against his shoulder and listening to him read the comics he stole on runs. you liked the way he imitated the sounds like 'bang' and 'wack' because he'd always yell just to get you to laugh.

"yeah?" ron's tone suddenly changed from suggestive to not curious but something you couldn't quite put your tongue on. it was as if he'd been challenging the boy. "like what?"

carl tilted his head. he had enough of the boy's childish gimmicks as of now. there were many things he could be doing tonight such as bringing you upstairs and throwing on a dvd for you both or perhaps you could teach him to crochet. but jealous or not, carl had no intentions of leaving you with ron.

"like none of your business." this caught you off guard. carl only really had one tone with you and that was lovesick, filled with admiration. but as he gave ron a kind of glare, you wondered if there was a side to carl that you didn't know.

however, the thought left as soon as it came when you spotted the new cushion covers the grimes' couch had recovered.

ron shook his head, teeth grasping at the inside of his cheek. "I think i'm gonna go." practically daring you to dispute, but your mind wasn't even in the argument.

"i think that's a good idea." carl merely answered, eyes focused on the boy.

ron stood from his place, not bothering to take his wrappers with him. it'd been all you'd noticed, how rude of him. "see you tomorrow, y/n."

"bye." you chirped, still oblivious to the tension in the room.

carl watched as ron stood, glaring at the boy, as if he was trying to get some kind of a reaction out of him. would he really have to fight to the death for him to leave you alone? carl couldn't help but scoff, leaning against the couch without the faintest hint of jealousy in his bones, knowing that as you sat against the carpet, all you cared for was him.

most girls liked the jealousy. carl could think of one thing better than that, though.

certainty.

as ron left the house, he made sure to shut the door extra loud. carl's glare hardened against the white wood. "carl?" your pretty voice could be heard, sweet as honey.

he shook his head, turning away. "yeah, baby?"

"what are we doing on friday?" confused as to his plans. carl couldn't help but grin at you, shaking his head. even through his tension face off with ron, you hadn't suspected a thing, mind much too innocent to the silence cruelty of others. when he didn't respond, you frowned. "i'm confused."

a laugh puffed from his lips. "you're always confused." you gave him a pathetic attempt of a glare. "come on, dvd?"

"okay!" you chirped, instantly grinning.

forgetting so quickly.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[daddydixonscrossbow]

Summary: Reader travels to hilltop to find out some important news.

Warnings: twd themes, zombies, weapons, blood/gore, strong language, age gap (reader is in their late 20’s), pregnant!reader, talk of pregnancy, kissing, mainly fluff

Word Count: 3.4k | unedited

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

“Hey.” You smile at Michonne, “Mind if I catch a ride with you to hilltop?”

She smiles, “Not at all. Hop in.”

You nod, “I gotta go let Daryl know, I’ll be right back.”

You turn, walking back towards the house when Daryl walks out, “You goin’ with Michonne?” You tilt your head, “How’d you know?”

Dog breaks through the crack of the door and runs up to you, nuzzling his nose into your leg, “Hi, boy. I’ll see you soon, okay?” You bend down, allowing him sniff your face.

“Saw you talkin’ t’her.” Daryl walks down, reaching out to scratch Dog’s head, “It’s fine if you are.”

“I want to go talk to Maggie, see if she needs any help. Plus, I want to help Michonne with getting those people a home.” You stand back up, “Why don’t you come with?”

He shakes his head, “I gotta help Rick, goin’ for a run, I’ll come up tomorrow?”

You nod, “Yeah, that works.” You step in towards him, “Good luck.” He smirks and nods, “You, too.” He pecks your lips, “Love you.”

You smile, “Love you.”

You turn around to walk away and Dog bark, following you. Daryl yells, “Hey, Dog. C’mon, boy. Thought you liked me better.”

You smile at Daryl, scratching Dog’s head before motioning back to Daryl, “Go, boy. Go with dad.” Dog whines and nudges your leg with his nose.

You take a deep breath and walk him back to Daryl, “Okay. Now I’m going.” You smile at him and make your way to the wagon, climbing up in with the others.

“Ready?” Michonne asks and you nod, “Yep.”

The wagon starts going and you wave to Daryl as you exit the gate. He lifts his hand, giving you a small smile.

You turn back, extending your hand out to the one girl, “Y/n.” She shakes your hand, “Magna.” She points as she introduces each person in her group, “Luke, Yumiko, Kelly, and Connie.”

Connie signs and you smile, signing back, “Nice to meet you, too.” You spell out your name, “I’m y/n.”

She smiles and nods.

“Have you been with these guys long?” Magna asks and you nod, “Few years, yeah. They’re good people, I came with to help try and get you guys into Hilltop.”

“We appreciate it. It was getting old being out there, constantly on the run.” Magna rolls her eyes and you nod, “That’s how I was, right before I was found by Rick and his group.”

“Were you alone?” She asks and you nod, “Yep. And it was hell.”

The ride to hilltop was mainly smooth, other than a few walkers that people at the front took care of, so you really, and luckily, didn’t have to do much of anything on the ride there, which is what you had hoped for.

You were exhausted, way more than normal, but you didn’t want anyone to ask questions so you played it off as best you could.

Once you arrived to hilltop, you got out and walked up to the gate where you were greeted by Maggie, “Glad to see you. How’s Daryl?”

You nod stepping back, “He’s good. Coming up tomorrow.”

She nods, “Good. Who do you have with you?” She motions towards the people walking in and Michonne walks up, “This group needs a home, I told them that we’d bring them to you, they can help with their part.”

Maggie nods, “Let’s talk inside.”

“Y/n, you comin’?” Michonne looks back at you and you nod, “Yeah, I’ll be in then. I’m going to see if anyone needs any help out here.”

Maggie smiles and Michonne nods, “Alright. Suit yourself.”

You manage to sneak away, subtly and casually making your way to the medical trailer, “Hey, Dr. Carson.”

“Y/n. Great to see you.” He looks you up and down, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, glancing back to the door and lowering your voice, “I need you to do me a favor, and it has to stay between us.”

He raises a brow, “Okay? What can I do?”

“I need an ultrasound.”

“Like.. a pre-“

“Yes.” You nod, cutting him off, “And I don’t want anyone to know about it.”

He nods, motioning to the table, “You got it. Have you been having any symptoms?” He gets the machine ready and you sigh, “Um, kind of? I’ve been more tired, eating makes me want to barf, and I’ve been super bloated.”

“Before we continue, I have to ask.”

You shake your head, “Daryl doesn’t know.”

Carson nods, “Okay, but I was going to ask how you feel about this.”

You laugh slightly, “Um, well.” Tears form in your eyes and you take a shaky breath, “I might be pregnant during the apocalypse, so how do you think I feel?”

“Is the grouchiness a new thing, too?” He smiles and you can’t help but laugh, “How’d you know?”

“You usually never had an attitude unless someone does wrong by you or someone you care a lot about.” He shrugs, “Just trying to cover all the bases.”

He motions for you to pull up your shirt and you comply. Taking a few deep breathes as he puts a gel on your stomach.

You weren’t ready for it. But you forced yourself, you needed to know.

“Okay, so there’s your uterine tissue, and if we go down just a tad..” Carson stops talking and you stare at the screen, “h-how far a long?”

“Looks to be about ten or so weeks. Healthy little thing, that’s for sure.”

“Ten!?” You lay your arm over your face, “I think I’m going to be sick.” Carson wipes off your stomach and helps sit you up, “I know, you were probably hoping for other news, but..”

You shake your head, “No, no. I mean we didn’t plan this, obviously..” you stand up, “I just, I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“That’s okay, y/n. As your friend, it’s totally okay to feel unsure, but as your doctor, telling Daryl is the best thing you can do.”

You close your eyes, “Oh my god.” You turn your head, “You said they were good? They’re healthy?”

He nods, “Oh yeah. But I want to see you back here in about three, four weeks if you can.”

You nod, “Three, four weeks. Got it.”

“And try and cut back on the walker killing. Don’t strain yourself, too much. Okay?”

“I’ll try.” You take a deep breath, slowly blowing it out, “I’m going to go now before I puke all over your work space.”

As you walk to the door, Carson walks over, “Here.” He hands you the ultrasound picture and you can’t help but smile as you take it, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Anything at all, you know where to find me.”

You nod, shoving the picture into your back pocket and walking out. As soon as you step onto the ground, it hits you. You run over to the back of the trailer and bend over, puking up what you can.

“Y/n?”

You wipe your mouth and stand up, “Maggie, hi.”

“What are you doing?” She tilts her head, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fantastic.” You lean against the trailer and she walks over, reaching up to feel your forehead, “You’re not runnin’ a fever, did you tell Dr. Car-“

“I just came from there.” You take a deep breath, “I’m going to tell you something, but it needs to stay between us, for now at least.”

“How far along are ya?”

You bring your head back and you laugh, “How did you know?”

She smiles, “Please. I have like a weird sixth sense when it comes to that. C’mon, let’s see it.” She holds her hand out and you bring the ultrasound from your back pocket, “Here. Carson says about ten weeks or so. Healthy little thing.”

She just her lip out and looks up at you, “How does Daryl feel about this?”

Your smile fades and tears well up in your eyes, “I-I haven’t told him yet.”

Maggie hands you back the picture and she wraps her arm around you, “C’mon, let’s go inside and talk.” You wipe your face before you start walking and you shove the picture into your sweatshirt pocket.

She leads you inside to her office and closes the door, “When did you first think you were?”

You sit down and sigh, “Probably a few weeks ago, but there’s just so much going on at Alexandria, I never really had a moment to break away and get checked for sure.”

“Would be nice to find a workin’ ultrasound machine for there.” Maggie shakes her head, “But I’m glad you hitched a ride with Michonne. It’s good to get checked out.”

You nod, “Daryl said he’ll be here tomorrow and I just-“ you close your eyes, “I’m scared of how he might react.”

Maggie laughs and you look at her like she just kicked your puppy, “Sorry, I just-“ she shakes her head, laying her hand over her mouth, “in all my years of knowing Daryl, he was never one to give anyone the attention he gives to you.”

“Really?” You ask, your voice cracking as you fight back more tears, “Sorry, these hormones. Everything all makes sense now.” You laugh slightly, “ When I was alone out there, before you guys found me.. I never thought I’d find anyone else, let alone someone to love me like Daryl does.”

“See.” Maggie smiles, “I think it’ll be a shock to him at first, but I think he’ll be happy once that wears off.”

You lay a hand on your forehead, “I hope. I’m just so.. nervous about it all.” You laugh, “Oh my god.”

“It not as bad as you think.” Maggie shrugs, “I had Hershel here. Carson and a few others were absolutely amazing.”

“It’s just scary to think-“

“Don’t think like that. If you want, you and Daryl can stay here for the duration if you want, just so you’re close to Carson.” Maggie offers and you nod, “I’ll have to see what, and how Daryl feels about that.”

“I think it’ll be fine.” Maggie tilts her head, “I think ya’ll are havin’ a girl.”

You smile, “You think so?”

She nods, “Daryl has girl mom written all over him.” She laughs, “I know he’s probably want a boy, but that’s also why I’m thinkin’ girl.”

You laugh and lean back against the chair, “I think I’m still in shock, partially.”

“It never goes away.” Maggie shakes her head, “C’mon, let’s go get you something to eat. I have some ginger lyin’ around her somewhere. It’ll help with the nausea.”

——

You tosses and turned all night.

One, because you couldn’t get comfortable. Two, because you missed Daryl, you hated being away from him, and three, your nerves were still eating you alive.

You sat up, swinging your legs off the bed and you just sat there.

Different ways of telling Daryl running through your mind.

“Fucking hell.” You get up, quietly making your way to where the radio is set up. You click the mic and take a deep breath, “Hilltop to Alexandria.”

You give it a little before calling again, “Hilltop to Alexandria. This is y/n, over.”

“You’ve reached Alexandria, this is Eugene speaking, over.”

“Eugene.” You sigh, “Do you know if Daryl is around, or even awake?”

“Is everything all good on that side of the trees? I do believe he’s patrolling because according to my observation, he can’t stand it when you aren’t here.”

You laugh slightly, “Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine, I just.. can’t stand it when I’m not there with him either.”

“Sit tight, hold your horses. I’ll be back before the goose can squawk, over.”

You shake your head, smiling as you rest your chin in your palm as you wait. A few minutes later, you hear the click and let out a sigh of relief when you hear Daryl say your name, “Y/n, what’s goin’ on?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Yeah.” Daryl chuckles, “Me either. I shoulda’ came with ya.”

You laugh slightly, “Or you could have just let Dog come with me.” Daryl laughs, “You know damn well if I gave that dog a’choice, he’d pick you.”

“What can I say.” You sniffle, trying to stay calm, “I’m his favorite.”

“What’s wrong?”

You knew hiding something from Daryl was impossible. He could sniff it out a thousand miles away, “Nothing, nothing, I just.. wish I would have stayed, that’s all.”

“It’ll be okay, darlin’. I’ll be there as soon as I can, too dangerous t’ride at night like this.”

“No, honey. I know. I’m just, being a.. a big baby right now.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” He laughs and you nod to yourself, looking out the window, “Should only be a few more hours until day break, right?”

“That’s right, baby.” Daryl sighs, “Why don’t y’try and get some sleep, hmm?”

“I’m not making any promises.” You laugh quietly, “I love you.”

“I love you, I’ll see you in the mornin’ alright?”

“Alright.” You can hear him walk off and Eugene picks up, “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Eugene. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You walk back to your room and lay down. You stare up at the ceiling, hand on your stomach. You remember the ultrasound picture and pull it from your pocket. You look at it in the glow of the moonlight, a small smile resting on your lips.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing, children were the future after all, right?

You tucked the picture back into your pocket and rolled over, getting as comfy as you can before you finally got some sleep.

You up as soon as the light started shining through the window, glaring right in your eyes. You sat up, making your way to the bathroom to get as ready for the day as you could.

An hour or so later, you hear the gates open, the sound of Daryl’s bike and Dog barking.

You turn, bending down to meet Dog as he runs up to you, “Hi my handsome boy! Did you miss me? Huh?” You laugh as he licks your chin and you look up, seeing Daryl walk up to you with a smile, “Did y’get any sleep?”

You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him, “Took a little, but yeah. Eventually.”

He holds you tight and kisses your head, “Ya eat anything yet?”

You shake your head and he nods, “Yeah, me neither, c’mon.”

You walk inside and Maggie walks up, “Hey Daryl.” As she’s is hugging him, she gives you a look and you shake your head.

She nods and leans back, “Breakfast is almost done. Hang tight, okay?”

Daryl nods and turns around, “I don’t think you can ever do that again.” You smile, tilting your head, “Do what?”

“Leave me back home like that.” He pulls you into a hug and dog nudges at you again. Daryl groans, “Dog, what is your problem? Can’t I get five minutes with her?”

He whines and you look up at Daryl, “I think I might know what’s going on.” He tilts his head and you look around, “Come with me.”

You lead him to a room and close the door, “I didn’t..” you take a deep breath, “Fuck, okay.” You shake your hands and rub them on your thighs, “I’m nervous, hold on.”

“What are’ya nervous about, y/n?” Daryl walks up to you and you reach into your pocket, slowly pulling out the ultrasound, “This is why I came here.”

He looks down at your hand and takes the picture, flipping it over and he scoffs, a small smirk on his lips, “Ain’t no way.”

“A-are you mad?” You can feel your eyes burn from the tears that are forming and he looks up at you, shaking his head, “Mad? Why the hell would I be mad?”

He places his hands on your hips, “Look at me.” He reaches up, gently pushing your chin upward, “We’ll figure things out, alright? Things change, and that’s okay.”

He swipes away a stray tear on your cheek with his thumb, “We always have, right?” You nod, sniffling and he cups your cheek, “We always will.” He kisses your head and pulls you into, “That’s prolly’why dog has been up your ass lately.”

You laugh, “Yeah, maybe I’m not the favorite.”

Daryl chuckles and shakes his head, “Don’t say that.” He steps back, walking over to the window to look at the picture in better light.

He studies it for a few seconds, “How far along are ya?”

You walk over, “Carson said about ten weeks. They’re healthy, too. Which is a good thing.”

He nods, “Yeah, yeah it is.” He looks up, shaking his head, “I just..” he scoffs, laughing slightly, “Did you know before, or?”

You shake your head, “I had a feeling, and a few symptoms, but things have been so crazy back home I just didn’t have time to-“

“Nah, you don’t need to be doing anythin’ like y’been.” Daryl shakes his head, “You have two things to worry about and that’s you and our baby.”

You smile, nodding your head.

“Does anyone else know?” He asks as he turns towards you. You nod, “Carson and Maggie. She walked up on me puking outside of the medical trailer and she just knew.”

“Yeah, she’s got some sort’a sixth sense when it comes to this kinda thing.”

“That’s what Maggie said.” You laugh and step towards him, your arms wrapping around him. His arms snake around you and he buries his face into your neck.

“I’m sorry I was nervous.” You whisper and Daryl shakes his head as he stands up, “Don’t, you don’t ever have to say sorry.” He pinches your chin gently, “Not to me.”

You nod, reaching up to tuck hair behind his ear, “Maggie says you’re a girl dad.”

He scoffs, “I’m sure she did.” He smirks and holds up the ultrasound, “Y’think Carson is busy?”

“Only one way to find out.” You smile and take Daryl’s hand, walking out to the medical trailer. When you walk in, he turns around and smiles, “I see you took my advice.”

You nod, “Yeah, I did.” You motion to Daryl, “He wants to see, if you have some time.”

Carson nods towards the table, “of course.”

You walk over to the table and Daryl is right there, his hand in yours while his other presses into your back to help you lay down.

You pull your shirt up and Carson puts the gel on again.

Daryl keeps a hold of your hand, watching everything Carson down intently, “Now what that?” He points to your stomach and Carson smiles slightly, “It’s a gel, basically helps the picture be clearer.”

Daryl nods, watching as he places the wand on your stomach, “So right here..” Carson points to the screen, “Is your baby.”

You look from the screen to Daryl, “That’s our baby.”

Daryl shakes his hair from his face and takes a deep breath, “Yeah, yeah it is.”

You push your bottom lip out, “Are you okay?”

He nods, “Yeah, it just..” he looks down, wiping away his face and you smile, turning your head back to the screen as you squeeze his hand.

“When can we find out what it is?” You look up at Carson and he shrugs, “usually, between eighteen and twenty two weeks, but it really comes down to if the baby wants to cooperate.”

“They’ll be stubborn.” Daryl chuckles, squeezing your hand, “Just like mom.”

“Excuse me?” You raise your brows, giving him a laugh, “I don’t think I’m as anywhere as stubborn as you are, Mr. Dixon.”

He laughs and shakes his head, bending down to kiss your forehead, “Alright, alright.”

Carson wipes off your stomach and Daryl helps you sit up, “When do you want to see her back?”

“Few weeks, but I told her that if she needs anything, she knows where to find me. You both do.” Carson looks between you and Daryl and nods.

“C’mon, let’s go get you somethin’ t’eat.” Daryl runs your back and you look at him, “Maggie gave us an offer to stay here if you want.”

He thinks for a moment and nods, “Let’s go talk t’Maggie.”

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Thank you so much for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[norman-fucking-reedus]

Negan once said his kid could do any and everything Daryl’s kid couldn’t, and Daryl would be damned if the idea that his kid couldn’t do something ever crossed their mind

“I don’t think there’s a single thing on this shitty planet, that my little killer can’t do! She’s like Michael Myers- Or! or Chucky! Yeah. Yeah, your kid is just the prey”

“Tha’ fuck you say? Ma’ girl is a hunter. Throw yer little Chucky doll in tha’ forest with mines ‘nd let ‘em play a game of cat ‘nd mice, see who ends up down one kid ‘cause it ain’t gon’ be me”

“Bold talker, considering your kid is only 4’5 and mine is 5’0”

“Makes it easier for my girl ta’ get a headshot”

“Are you threatening my daughter right now?”

“Ya’ consider a 4’5 girl ta’ be a threat? What a pussy”

"my kid is better than your kid" kind of dads

[darylssunshine]

daryl x reader

“lift up your sleeve”

at the farm maybe daryl saw shane grab your wrist tightly

Caring

Word count: 0.9k

Genre: Mainly fluff

A/N: my first request! hope you enjoy anon!!

~~~~~

You squint your eyes in frustration, rubbing a hand down your face and shifting your weight away from Shane. He was fed up with the continuous search for Sofia and he was taking his anger out on the whole group, yelling at the top of his lungs with a deep southern drawl. He believed that the search was futile and that the group should keep moving, but the rest of the group opposed, including Daryl.

“We’re close to finding this girl, I just found her damn doll a few days ago!” He piped up, pacing back and forth to ease his frustration. Shane harshly chuckled in response. “You found her doll, Daryl. That’s what you did, you found a doll.” 

The group then erupted back into an argument with Rick trying to hold Daryl back from lunging at Shane, the redneck jumping up and down and throwing up his arm as an attempt to move Rick’s arm out of the way. Frankly, you were tired and hungry and on edge and sick of Shane’s shit. So you piped up this time.

“Hey!” You stepped in front of Shane, blocking Daryl from his view. The rest of the group had now ceased their yelling and all had their eyes on you and your sudden surge of boldness. Daryl moved to the side so he could properly glare at the now stunned southern man.

“Daryl was only trying to help. What the fuck is so bad about that? It’s giving people hope, and that’s all we need right now, especially Carol. Now, if you could settle down, we could think of some sort of pl-”

You were cut off from your outburst and pointing your finger in Shane’s face by him violently grabbing your wrist, rendering it immobile by his strong grasp. He bored his fiery eyes into yours and spoke lowly, but so that everyone surrounding the exchange could still hear him. You tried to mask the scared look in your eyes that paralleled his, but you knew what Shane was capable of, and you felt your breathing speed up and your wrist throb.

“Listen here, sweetheart. You ever do somethin’ like this again and I will not hesitate to break this skinny little wrist right here, do you hear me?” He was so close to your face you could feel his hot breath hit the tip of your nose. You were so focused on the pain in your wrist growing by the second, you didn’t answer his rhetorical question.

“Do you hear me?!” He yelled suddenly, the grip on your wrist growing impossibly tighter.

“Yes, Shane.” You grunted through gritted teeth. He threw your wrist out of his grasp and turned around with a huff.

“This talk ain’t over!” He shouted to no one in particular while stomping in the opposite direction.

—

Daryl found you later in the evening sitting against the Greene house, basking in the evening breeze. You were absentmindedly rubbing your wrist that Shane had grabbed earlier, when he wordlessly sat next to you, crossing his arms and leaning his head against the house. You turned your head towards the redneck and furrowed your brow in confusion. Your heart was beating a bit faster just from his presence, but you were determined to not let your nervousness show.

“M’ dad used to do that.”

You sat up, snapping your gaze over to Daryl, who was still staring at the stars above. His voice was low, but still caring. He continued, his gaze unwavering despite your movement.

“He was a drunk. Beat me all th’ time. Left bruises all over.”

Your eyes shifted to the ground, now embarrassed, remembering that he saw that entire heated exchange. “It didn’t leave a bruise, Daryl. It’s not that bad.” You said softly as you rubbed your neck.

“Lift up yer sleeve, then.” He prodded, now staring at you with his icy blue eyes. He scooted closer to where you were sitting and shifted his gaze to your right hand, your left currently covering it. 

Shifting your eyes back to a particularly interesting patch of grass, you gently rolled up your right jacket sleeve with a wince. Daryl’s brows creased in anger when his eyes were met with a deep purple bruise forming at the base of your wrist, the purples fading into soft yellows. You now anxiously played with your left jacket sleeve.

A sort of growl exited his mouth. “Imma kill that sumbitch.”

You were stunned and your thoughts were reeling, your eyes flipping from your wrist to Daryl’s concerned yet angry face. He was being so careful around the wound, very gently holding and examining it. Did he actually care about you? You originally found it unlikely, but he didn’t seem like the type to open up to just anyone. A blush was creeping onto your face after his last comment, and you were silently praying that he didn’t notice. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and setting your hand back onto the soft grass. “Hershel’ll fix ya up in the mornin’. Till then, be careful n’ don’t put pressure on it, aight? I want ya to get better.” You softly chuckled in response. “You got it, Dr. Dixon.” You saluted with your left hand. He rolled his eyes in response.

“Thank you for caring. Really. It means a lot.” You said sincerely, placing your injured hand on his.

“Mhm.” He shifted his gaze back to the stars as he slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. “Course I do.

[junkpuppet225]

note: Well well well, if it isn’t the consequences of your actions. This one’s not smutty and it’s kinda messed up really. Super short and quick and barely proof read. Enjoy.

Consequences

Daryl looks up at you from his motorcycle slowly, a sly grin spreading across his handsome face as he tosses his rag to the work bench and stands to his full height as you make your way across the narrow room. He has that look on his face - the one you’ve seen a hundred times a hundred different ways over the past few months as you watch his eyes fall to the bench.

He’s not thinking about the tools in his line of sight or the man that gifted them to him along with the bike but the night you showed up out here wearing that pale blue sun dress Rosita found in the back of her closet. He had stalked you like a predator, pulling you into his arms and kissing you until you didn’t give a fuck who or what stumbled into the garage.

Tonight you stop a foot away from him trying to collect the right words but his gaze is far away, remembering the sound of tools clattering to the ground as he laid you back on that work bench and buried his face between your legs.

“Daryl?”

He doesn’t notice how bad you’re shaking until you’re almost in front of him with tears in your eyes, one hand closed in an impossible grip - the other placed against your chest trying to steady your racing heart. It felt like you were cracked open, the ache inside of you so strong you’re not even sure how you willed your feet to get this far.

The air rushes from Daryl’s throat as he finally sees you. You look like you’re dying inside. “What’s wrong?” He looks behind you to the silent and empty street before rounding the bench and placing his hands on your trembling arms. “Are you okay?”

You want to remember him like this, in his dark t-shirt - his hair falling into his ocean eyes. He really is beautiful, even when he narrows those eyes and tells you to fuck off every time you mention it to him. He’s going to leave because he doesn’t want this - how could he possibly want this when he can barely stand to be behind these walls as it is?

I ain’t no family man. The fuck kind of dad could I ever be? All mine taught me was how to take an ass beatin’.

“Hey? Talk to me girl, yer scarin’ me.” His hands are in your hair now, eyes desperate and searching as you take in a shaky breath. The muscles in your clenched hand ache all the way to your elbow as you hold onto the pregnancy test in your grip, knuckles white as Daryl lets his gaze fall between you - his back going rigid.

“What the fuck is that?”

He knew what it was - he wasn’t stupid but all rational thought was slipping away as he gaped at the device in your hand. This couldn’t be fucking happening. Not that he’d done anything to prevent it - not like he had one ounce of will power when it came to you and you’re perfect fucking pussy that gripped him like a goddamn vice. A groan rushed from his throat as he took a step back and put the work bench between the two of you.

“Daryl, I’m…”

“You have to get rid of it.”

He couldn’t look at you. His heart couldn’t take the pain that washed over you from his words but you couldn’t have his baby. The last thing this fucked up world needed was another Dixon in it or another dad like he had.

“Please don’t say that.” He’d never heard your voice so small before, forcing himself to look at you as he stood with his arms on the bench gripping the splintering wood with his shoulders bent in defeat. “Ya can’t bring a baby into this world, Y/N.” Not his baby. White hot fear was licking at his insides - bringing bile to his throat at the thought of having a son or daughter and being just like his old man. Daryl’s eyes closed tight as memories of his childhood played back like a horror movie in his head.

“Lori did.”

“Yeah? Look where the fuck that got her!”

The next thing you know a wrench is flying across the garage then his bike is on its side as he kicks it to the ground, raking his hands into his hair. “Fucking get rid of it Y/N.” Daryl demands - voice cracking with the hollow words as you stand before him in shock - silent tears rolling down your cheeks as he returns to his position at the work bench, head hanging as his own grief consumes him.

He loves you - with every fucking part of himself but this is one thing he won’t allow. If what happened to Lori would happen to you his life would be over and he’s too selfish to risk that. To fucked up to risk becoming his father.

It feels like years have passed as you both stand in silence, one a complete stone void of any emotion and the other a trembling mess of despair. When Daryl finally looks up at you, silently pleading you let the pregnancy test fall to the ground and turn on your heels - leaving as quickly as you came without another word. He stands at that bench, the one that gave him such fond memories until everything aches inside of him then he goes to the small white device on the ground and kneels, picking it up to inspect the two pink lines staring back at him.