#hot girl summer in alexandria

[anakinsafterlife]

Creating big Benton Fraser energy out here without meaning to. Saying please and thank you everywhere; holding doors for people even when there are literal doormen to do that in most places. People remarking on how polite I am. This always happens to Canadians abroad. *sigh*

[tragedygroupie]

babysitter blues

cw: LEGAL age gap, fingering, praise kink, loss of virginity, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), daddy kink, blink and you’ll miss it dacryphilia, authority kink (???), imbalanced power dynamic kinda???, alexandria rick, kind of long winded buildup to the smut, brief substance use (alcohol), soft dom! rick… yeah that’s all i can think of rn.

your entire life had been colored by an overwhelming sense of inertia. tucked away in the mundane labyrinth of the suburbs, not even the advent of the apocalypse could blot out the pervasive sense of ennui that had followed you since childhood. the horrors of the newly established outer world, the grotesque undead and the occasionally more dangerous still living were completely unknown to you. the apocalypse had not annihilated your reality, it merely redefined the confines of your sequestration.

life in alexandria was largely a matter of finding a way to pass the time. girls that barely qualified as adults weren’t exactly hot commodities, rarely sought out for anything, so it fell on you to fill the hours until the end of the world.

sometimes it was reading, which slowly morphed into a project of creating a library for the community, almost entirely curated from your own collection, with some generous donations here and there from bemused older folks surprised that young people still cared about that kind of thing.

other times it was babysitting, which started largely as preemptive measure to get out of being assigned any kind of work that would require any amount of physical activity. sure it was lazy, but you enjoyed the company of most of the kids, and they all liked you, enchanted by the whimsical dresses you wore and the stuffed animal army you had at your disposal.

truly, the only visible sign that you were experiencing an apocalypse rather than another red hot american summer were the bags under your eyes, perpetually exhausted from the never ending parade of nightmares that left you jolting awake, violently gasping for air.

a girl like you had no business hanging around a man like rick grimes. perpetually tense, eyes wildly darting around like he was itching to drive the butter knife he spread his jam with into the throat of some unspecified assailant. a bloody splash of color in your grayscale world. he was unlike anything you’d ever seen, a Marlboro man, blue collar through and through, from the dirt that he could never seem to fully rid his nails of to the rough, calloused hands that secretly made your mouth water.

this was the apocalypse, yet your sense of self preservation was as brittle as it’d been when you were sixteen. all your snark, that goddamn mouth that always got you in trouble evaporated when you were around him, replaced with an unfamiliar earnestness that made you cringe internally. you tried, really you did, to not follow him around like a lovesick puppy, to think of reasonable pretenses for your incessant need to be in his proximity, and fortunately enough, you quickly found an in.

no matter how adept rick was in this new world, he seemingly struggled when it came to childcare. when it came to his daughter, he was wildly protective yet somehow simultaneously clueless, and the first time you saw something approaching relief flash through his eyes was when you offered to look after her.

truth be told, rick didn’t quite know what to make of you. you were soft without being stupid, sheltered but not maddeningly clueless, and your eagerness to listen to him when everyone else dismissed him as paranoid endeared you to him in a way no one else in Alexandria quite managed. when you offered to look after judith, the last thing he thought was that you’d become a distraction. you were pretty, sure, but you were young enough to be his daughter, and if there was one thing rick grimes wasn’t, it was cliché.

but goddamn did you make it hard. his life in the new world had been characterized by leaving absolutely no room for error, every potential outcome identified and accounted for. yet in his brief respite from having to care for his daughter entirely by himself, he failed to consider that you wouldn’t just be a hot flash of want that pulsed through his veins whenever he happened to run into you, you’d be in his home. he was a stronger man than most, but he was still a man, and being in such close proximity to that kind of temptation was enough to drive anyone crazy.

every time he walked through the door it was something new. sitting on the floor with your hands outstretched, beckoning judith to crawl towards you, oblivious to your skirt riding up your parted thighs. bending over the cradle to kiss her good night, while the cotton of your already short dress just barely covered your ass.

you may not have been completely clueless about the dangers outside the walls, but you were downright brainless when it came to the effect you had on him, and it was that very lack of awareness that had him fucking his fist in the shower, coming with a groan to the thought of those pretty, naive eyes looking up at him as he split you open. it wasn’t enough, like putting a bandaid over a cut that sliced to the bone, but it was a safety valve, it kept him from doing something stupid.

today shouldn’t have been any different from the routine he had established. he got home as dusk started to settle, having made an extra effort to see judith before she went to bed. he tried to leave the frustrations of today at the door, determined to be a good father, to exact control over the flaming emotions that licked up his chest, stopping the spread before he became engulfed.

as soon as he hears your voice, with its lilting quality as you respond to judith’s babbling, the hard lines that have taken up a virtually permanent residence on his forehead soften. he walks across the threshold, into the living room where you’re sprawled across the couch, judith sitting on your lap. you get up, and he has a blissful few seconds to admire the dress you’re wearing, a little white dress with embroidered flowers better suited for frolicking in a garden than waiting out the end of the world, before you open your mouth to greet him.

“look who’s here judith! daddy’s here!”

fuck.

he knows you didn’t mean it like that, and a better man wouldn’t have thought anything of it. a clearly innocent comment shouldn’t have the blood draining from his head and rushing towards his dick, but the way that word rolls off your tongue is downright sinful. his face is an impenetrable mask of cordiality, concealing his desire as he answers.

“how’re my girls?”

it’s more forward than he’d be under any other circumstances, but he can’t help it, he needs to see if his words affect you the way yours do him. sure enough, a rosy blush blossoms across your cheeks as you hand Judith to him. the words rattle around your head, and you make a mental note to remember it for later, when you’re alone and twilight has fallen, so you can replay it in earnest.

“she’s been wonderful, we had so much fun today, didn’t we Judith?”

you go on, filling him in with details about the day, your voice becoming a pleasant hum that barely filters through, he’s too busy looking at you. all soft curves to his taut muscles, hands that’ve never seen a day of hard work. fragile things like you normally fill him with a vague sense of irritation, if not downright disgust, but with you it’s different, the overwhelming need to lay claim to the last bit of silken sweetness in this apocalyptic wasteland threatening to undo him.

dimly, he becomes aware that you’re asking if he wants to put Judith to bed tonight, and a dull panic sets in. you can’t leave, not yet, not until he’s gotten to feel you.

“i’d like to see how you do it. for future reference” he says, his voice cool and glacial, completely devoid of the growing desperation blooming in his abdomen.

you nod, secretly proud at the prospect of teaching him something. he’s so worldly, so knowledgeable in things you hadn’t even conceived, and the idea of him wanting to learn from you about anything makes you feel mature, no longer a lovesick puppy yapping at his heels.

you three go to judith’s nursery, and when he passes her to you, you begin to show him the routine you’ve established. it’s quick, nothing flashy, just getting her changed into her pjs, singing a quick song, and stroking her hair until she falls asleep. mercifully, she’s out like a light, and the two of you creep out of her room, careful not to disturb her. when you get into the hall, you avoid his eyes, unsure of what to do now. you see him so rarely, and without the buffer of Judith, you feel small again, all that newfound maturity fleeting, like it was never there.

rick has to suppress a smirk at your shyness, and after a beat of silence, he’s unable to resist making an offer.

“you want a drink?”

you look up at him, trying in vain to hide your excitement.

“sure.”

one drink follows another, though you never quite manage to get rid of the grimace that accompanies each swig. its endearing, he knows you’re only drinking this shitty beer because he offered it, trying to convince him that you can handle yourself. you’re sitting together on the couch, and the once respectable distance between the two of you has shrunk down considerably, your knee against his as you go on and on, talking about anything that catches your fancy. to his credit, he doesn’t seem to mind, nodding and trying to focus on your words rather than how soft and warm your thigh feels pressed against his.

“i know the whole library idea seem… frivolous, but you should come by sometime. i can recommend you something good.”

he smirks, his voice coming out low and measured.

“never said that darlin. i just don’t have a whole lot of time for reading.”

you shake your head, your voice earnest in a way that would leave you mortified if you were sober, trying to ignore the pang of need in your cunt at the pet name.

“bullshit. you’ve probably just… never read a good book. with the way the world is… who doesn’t need escapism sometimes?”

he nods, clearly humoring you. it’s nice to see you passionate about something, even if he shares absolutely no interest in it. he notices how you shift next to him, your thighs pressing together at the pet name, and makes sure to take note of it.

“amen to that.” he says, taking another swig from the bottle you’ve been sharing.

when he looks back at you, you have a dreamy, far away look in your eyes. he raises an eyebrow at you, his voice coming out teasing.

“have i got something on my face?”

you shake your head earnestly, your voice coming out achingly sincere.

“you have really nice eyes.”

he scoffs, amused by the observation. it’s something you’d normally be too scared to say to him, but the beer has clearly loosened your inhibitions, and goddamn if he doesn’t love it.

when you lean towards him, your lips meeting his softly, all unsure and sweet, it’s all he can do to not groan. this is wrong, you’re young enough to be his daughter, he should be the adult here, put a stop to this and gently tell you that you deserve better than him.

instead, he finds himself kissing you back, all those good, proper sentiments dying in his throat as he pulls you into his lap, his mouth never leaving yours. his hands are all over you, exploring every inch of the soft, supple flesh he’s been craving for god knows how long. you’re trying to keep up, your mouth clumsy and shy against his, but he’s relentless, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he kneads the plush of your ass through your white lace panties.

your dress is riding up your thighs, and it’s all he can do to not tear it off you. he knows he needs to be gentle, he gets the sense that you haven’t got much experience in this arena, even though his more primal instinct is to push you against the wall and fuck you till you see black. instead, his hands creep up your thighs, until he’s cupping your clothed cunt, your panties already dewy with arousal.

“fuck baby, all this for me?” he asks, his voice teasing as he marvels at how easily aroused you are. all this from a few kisses, it’s really just too easy.

you let out a keening whine, your hips instinctively rocking your cunt against his hand, desperate for any amount of friction. you nod desperately, too dumbstruck for words.

he chuckles, slowly starting to rub you through your underwear.

“use your words, pretty girl.” he says, his voice half joking, but with an undercurrent of seriousness, a warning that he’ll stop if you don’t comply.

your eyes flutter shut, the puffy sleeves of your dress falling down your shoulders as your hands go to grip his big arms.

“all.. for… you” you pant, your cheeks burning red.

it’s embarrassing really, how soaked your panties are. it makes you feel like a slut, but you know you wouldn’t get this way for just anyone. you couldn’t imagine being this easy for someone else, and if you were more clear headed you’d try to tell him, but all you can do is mewl pathetically, frustrated by how the lace of your panties dilutes the feeling of his fingers on you.

he chuckles, reading you like a book. he moves the lace aside, dipping his index finger into your aching cunt, biting back a groan when you gasp.

“that feel good, baby?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

you let out a whiny mhmmm, and he allows it, pumping steadily while the rough pad of his thumb rubs circles onto your clit. when he curls his thick finger inside you, you swear you see stars, and your nails dig into the weathered muscles of his arms.

“oh fuck, daddy” you mumble, too far gone to notice or care that you slipped up, oblivious to how his eyes light up at your words.

“poor thing… those little fingers just don’t do it for you, do they? can’t reach that far, isn’t that right?” he says, condescension dripping from his voice.

you nod furiously, your hips bucking into his touch as your head lolls for, letting him pull you closer into his arms as you whimper out a response.

“s-so close daddy”

he coos at you, that sweet desperation making him throb in his jeans. normally he’d make you work for it, make you respond to all his questions to build good habits (because there would be a next time), but he figures he’ll go easy on you just this once, especially when you plead so pretty.

“go on baby. make a mess f’me.” he says encouragingly, and that’s all it takes for you to come, burying your forehead into his chest as you ride out your high.

when you go limp, he starts stroking your hair, maneuvering your head so you’re facing him. he kisses you again, and it takes a moment before you kiss him back, your brain still partially fogged over from pleasure.

“you act like no one’s ever made you cum before” he says teasingly, and when your face flushes it just confirms what he already thought: you’re a virgin.

you avoid his eyes, your voice coming out all shy and flustered.

“i don’t really have much experience… is that a problem?”

he has to resist the urge to scoff, because no, that is absolutely not a problem. if anything, it makes him want you more. but he doesn’t want to scare you, so he just tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him, his hand cupping your cheek.

“it’s not a problem at all, honey. just wanna make sure you’re okay with all this.”

it takes all his self restraint to ask you that, because his jeans feel far too tight and all he wants to do is bury himself inside you before he preemptively blows his load, but he knows he needs to make sure you’re ready, that you want this too. despite everything, he’s still trying to be a good man.

you look up at him, and you nod, your pupils all blown out and hazy.

“ ‘m sure.” you say softly, before reaching up to kiss him.

he savors the kiss, giving you a moment before he stands up. you let out a small squeak, your thighs immediately going to wrap around his waist, looking at him in confusion.

“what, did you think i was gonna take your virginity on the damn couch? i’m not a goddamn animal” he grumbles, looking at you with fond irritation as you giggle.

he presses his lips to yours to keep you quiet, sloppily making out with you as he makes his way to the bedroom. when he gets inside, he lays you down on the bed gently, his mouth never leaving yours.

he gets you undressed in no time, not giving you a hard time about the fact that your white lace panties and bra are matching (almost like you were asking for it), and when your unsteady hands finally finish fumbling with his belt you get to see his cock for the first time. and fuck is he huge.

he looms over you, his arms caging you in as he presses warm kisses to your neck, trying to ease your worry. when he pushes in, he goes all the way, burying himself to the hilt. your eyes roll back in your head, letting out a soft cry as you snake your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as he lets you adjust.

when he starts to move, he sets a slow, steady pace, and the ache gives way to newfound pleasure, your eyes screwing shut as he goes deeper than you knew was previously possible.

“fuck baby. you’re so fucking tight.” he mumbles, sucking a bruise onto your neck as you let out a moan.

when he’s sure you’re not gonna break, he starts to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more pointed, earning whimpers and moans that seem to come from deep in your gut. tears start to fall down your cheeks, not from pain but from a combination of pleasure and being so overwhelmed.

“you cry so pretty, baby.” he says, angling his thrusts to hit that spongy spot inside your walls.

your face scrunches up as you get that newly familiar coiling feeling in your stomach, and you blearily open your eyes to look up at him, your bottom lip quivering.

“daddy… can i cum, please?” you whimper brokenly, and if he wasn’t almost there already, that definitely pushed him.

“such a sweet thing, asking permission on her first time. you can come baby, go on” he responds, his firm grip on your hips teetering dangerously close to bruising.

when you come, he can feel you pulsating around him, squeezing him like a goddamn vice, trying to milk him for all he’s got. it only takes a few more sloppy thrusts for him to join you, coming in you with a groan.

once you both came down from your highs, you turned to him, your body exhausted and spent. you weren’t exactly sure what he expected of you, you’d never hooked up with your employer before and all conventions about appropriateness were completely out the window when you had his spend dripping down your thighs.

“can i stay the night?” you ask quietly, your cheeks red with embarrassment.

to your relief, he just chuckles and pulls you closer, your head resting on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“sweet girl, i’d be a right asshole if i sent you home like this.”

you smile, quickly falling asleep in his arms. and for what feels like the first time in months, rick finds himself dozing off without much of a fight too.

[lunajay33]

Where’s my Wife?

Summary: Being pregnant Daryl made sure you were always safe but when the wall of Alexandria fell you had no choice but to run, when Daryl gets back he’s stressed trying to find you

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

“Are you sure you have to go?” I asked running my hand through his hair, feeling him gently lean into my touch

“I gotta go, I’m doin this for you and the baby, can’t risk them walkers gettin out and headin here” he said as he gripped my hips

“Okay but just….just be careful okay? Please come back to me…to us”

“I’ll be back sunshine” he smiled as he got on his bike, the smile that was reserved for me and me only

“I love you D”

“Luv ya too” and with that he was off following Abraham and Sasha

It took a long time for Daryl to be comfortable with saying I love you, I never pressured him I knew what he’s been through and that this whole relationship thing was new to him so we went at his pace, we met at the quarry first when the world went to hell, he found me in the woods alone about to get eaten by a walker but he was there in time shooting the walker in the head with an arrow, since then he’s protected me, first our relationship was quiet just spending time together in silence, but slowly he got more confidence and started being back little gifts from his trips, flowers, bracelet, my favourite drinks and snacks I had mentioned, eventually along the way I became his girl, everyone in our group knew it and didn’t dare do anything that could risk my life

Walking along the streets I made my way towards the communal kitchen craving some chocolate, hopefully Carol was there to let me have a whole bar

Walking through the door the cool air hit me, refreshing from the hot summer heat

“Hey sweetie, are they gone already?” Carol asked as she was rummaging through the food supplies

“Yeah I don’t know something feels off, I’m just nervous I can’t lose him Carol” I sigh sitting on a chair after taking the chocolate out of the fridge, my legs aching from the extra weight

“There’s always a risk going out there but it’s Daryl, he always comes back, just try to get your mind off of it…..how’s the baby?”

“Oh she’s good, kicking a lot, she loves when Daryl talks to her”

“Her?”

“Just a feeling, call it mothers intuition”

“I never would have guessed that thee Daryl Dixon would be having a baby, you’ve really changed him, he’s the happiest with you”

“Thanks Carol, means a lot…I should probably go watch the perimeter, Daryl told me to take it easy”

“Okay be careful hun”

I walked the back wall for a while everything was secure except a little opening at the bottom of one of the panels, it wasn’t too big, not big enough for a walker to slide through so I thought nothing of it, that is until screamed started erupting in the streets, seeing men dressed in black murdering people left and right, I didn’t have enough time to get to a house so I went to the opening in the fence, I kicked it a few times inching it open just a bit more, trying to crawl through desperately feeling the fence cut up my side but this was my only choice to live to protect both me and the baby, finally I got through running through the woods, dodging any walkers that were in the path, eventually I made it to a tree house Daryl had showed me a little farther out of Alexandria, climbing the tree as best I could being exhausted and 8 months pregnant

Slumping down in the run down tree house, feeling the adrenaline wear off, who were those people? Who did they hurt and kill? Where was Daryl and how was I gonna get back when I didn’t know when it was safe

Taking a few breaths to calm myself knowing all this stress and pressure on the baby wasn’t good and I couldn’t afford to go into premature labour, the sun was finally setting and the weather was becoming colder, thankfully there was a few blankets in the corner we had brought out here for when we needed a get away

The crickets eventually lulled me to sleep, hoping that when I woke in the morning everything would be okay again

Daryl pov

After getting shot and the walkers breaking off I just need to get home to protect the only one I’ve every truly loved, she gave me hope when I was finally giving up being pushed around by Merle, when I found her in the woods I knew she was special, never in my life did someone make me feel safe and loved, it was confusing but she never pressured me, then the day on the road she told me she was pregnant I was terrified, we were exhausted low on food and water and she was the only thing keeping me from going off the deep end but she never lost hope that we’d find a home again and like magic the next day we were in Alexandria

The three of us got back to Alexandria to it being run over by walkers, with quick thinking we set the lake on fire and finished off the remaining walkers, running everywhere i screamed for her, slowly the sun was rising when carol came up to me, thankful she was still okay

“Carol have ya seen y/n? I can’t find her”

“I don’t know she came by the kitchen and then she went to watch the perimeter she said then all those wolves came in and I tried to look for her but there was no time”

I ran to the back wall knowing that’s where she usually watched since it had the most shade, finally getting there I searched the wall noticing a break, looking closer there was blood on the ground and covering the edge of the metal, I smashed it open more throwing my crossbow out first before I pushed through, she had to be out her there’s no way I’ve lost her

Normal POV

The sun beamed through the opening of the tree house waking me from the half decant sleep I had, throwing the dusty blanket to the side I sat up groaning as I forgot about the jagged cut that littered my side

Gazing out of the opening making sure the coast was clear I slowly maneuvered my way down the tree cautious of the baby and my wound, my feet hit the ground and an immense pain shot through my belly as my legs became covered in liquid

“Oh no”

She had decided this was the perfect moment to come out, panicked I made my way back to Alexandria hoping everything has settled and the one person I need right now is back home

As I was making my way through the forest twigs snapped alerting me of something, rather it be a walker than one of those people, but when I approached the noise a shaggy haired man came into few and my heart leapt

“Daryl!” I sighed in relief right before a contraction ripped through my body, leaning against a tree groaning as the pain grew

“Angel what’s wrong?” He asked scared as his hand pressed against my back

“She’s coming Daryl, little Dixon is on her way, the stress must have triggered this”

“I’ll get ya both home and safe” he picked me up like I weighed a feather until we were at the gates

“I was so worried about you D, those men attacked and I didn’t know what was happening I just knew I had to protect myself and this baby”

“Shit happened I wanted to come back but couldn’t risk it, I was lookin all night fer ya” he said laying me down on the bed of the little infirmary

“I’m just glad you’re back”

Hours of excrutiating pain came to an end when the sound of little cries echoed in the room

“She’s here, ya were right sunshine” Daryl smiled as he held our little girl close, wrapping her in a little white blanket

He sat on the bed next to me showing me the most adorable baby I’ve ever laid my eyes on

“She’s beautiful D! What should we name her?”

“How bought Lexi?” His suggestion shocked me

“Really? Why Lexi?”

“Don’t know always liked it I guess”

“Then Lexi it is, our little baby girl Lexi!”

[dixons-sunshine]

Damn Tease | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was an extremely hot day in Alexandria. Luckily, there wasn't much to do, barely anything at all, so you and Daryl decided to do it while everyone else relaxed for a change. However, Daryl soon wished he hadn't offered, because you decided it would be a good idea to get him all worked up—and your tiny shorts and tank top certainly didn't help his mind stay on track.

Genre: Suggestive.

Era: Alexandria, no arc in particular.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes.

Word count: 1.5k.

A/n: For @ghostboneswrites2's writing challenge! It's my first time ever doing one of these so hopefully I did it right lol. I hope you like this! By the way, to my fellow writers, please join if you feel up for it! You can find the post with the prompts and rules here.

The blazing summer sun relentlessly beat down on the world ravaged by the undead. It seemed as if though even the flesh eating monsters that roamed the earth every day had deemed the day too hot to go on their regular cannibalistic ventures, for no rotting corpse could be seen for miles and no loud groan could be heard in the near distance. The Alexandrian occupants had decided that the overly hot day would be spent lounging indoors or on their porches, the tasks of the day luckily not too much and could be left for the next day. However, Daryl had decided earlier that very morning that lounging indoors wasn't an activity that he wanted to partake in, so he went about completing the miniscule amount of tasks around the community. And since you didn't want to spend the day lazing around without him, you decided to join your partner on his stubborn venture.

However, as you brushed past the crossbow-wielding archer to grab one of the crates to bring into the pantry, your behind brushing ever so slightly against his front, Daryl wished you had decided to spend the day like the rest of the community. Although you were helping, and he certainly appreciated your help, you were being a major, hot as hell distraction, and he was two seconds away from dropping the crate of cherries he was carrying, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you back to your shared house to indulge in the fantasies his mind was conjuring up the longer he stared at you.

Daryl felt like a perfect fool for even thinking of things like that while the two of you were supposed to be working. You barely even acknowledged his presence, too caught up with your own tasks to do so, and there he was, ogling you like an inexperienced school boy with a dumb crush on the popular girl. Admittedly, the outfit you had chosen to wear that day certainly didn't help his problem at all. The shorts you were wearing left just enough covered for his imagination to run wild, and your tank top hugged you in all the right ways, your cleavage covered but also showing just enough skin to have him licking his lips to keep them wet. Whether you had worn that particular outfit just to tease him and punish him for not complying with your request to stay indoors that day, he didn't know. What he did know, was that he desperately wanted to tear that shirt from your body, and work his way down to—

“I was thinking,” your voice rang through the air, effectively snapping the huntsman from his provocative train of thought. You had stepped back into the part of the pantry that temporarily housed the crates the two of you were hoisting and sorting out. “Tomorrow, when we go on that run, we should swing by that store we saw a few weeks ago. You know, the one that had all those kiddie pools? It would be nice to bring a couple of them back for the kids so that they don't have to suffer in this weather.”

“Yeah,” Daryl began, his eyes following you as you bent over to pick up your water bottle, your shorts riding up ever so slightly and driving him mad. He should just shoot himself at that moment and spare himself the misery you were putting him through. He cleared his throat, put the crate of cherries he held in his hands down on the ground and tried to focus back on the conversation at hand. “Yeah, sounds good.”

You smiled at him and took a sip from the water bottle that held some cherry flavoured drink you had made that morning with the same cherries the two of you were busy with in the pantry. You accidentally spilled some of the drink, and the droplets trickled down your chin and onto your chest, soon disappearing down your shirt. Daryl's eyes followed the droplets that trickled down your shirt, inhaling sharply when you tried to brush the wetness away, slightly pulling your shirt down and exposing some of your bra. God, you were driving him completely insane.

You looked up again and locked eyes with Daryl, and you smirked slightly at the sight of him. He was tightly gripping the shelf to his right, his knuckles turning white at the force he was bestowing on them. His breathing was heavier than usual, and he not-so-subtly adjusted his jeans. Good, your plan was working.

“Daryl, are you okay?” you asked him ‘innocently’, walking up to him and barely containing your smirk when you heard him inhale sharply. “You look a little flushed. Maybe you should sit down for a bit.”

Daryl licked his lips as he stared down at you, his vantage point giving him a clear view down your shirt. However, Daryl forced himself not to think like that. “Yeah, m'fine, Sweetheart. Why do ya ask?” he told you, trying to convince both you and himself. “And m'jus' a lil' hot, s'all. Nothin' to worry 'bout.”

“Are you sure?” you asked him while looking up at him through your eyelashes while maintaining your innocent act.

Daryl nodded quickly. “Yeah, m'sure. Ya dun' gotta worry 'bout me. I'll be alrigh'.”

“Okay, if you're sure.” You took a few steps backwards, sending him a mischievous smile. “By the way, you should probably focus more on sorting out these crates than staring at my ass. And my boobs, for that matter.” Daryl's eyes widened at your words. He started stuttering out words of denial, claiming he wasn't staring, but you simply waved him off. “No need to deny it, Daryl. Besides, I'd be offended if you didn't stare. I didn't wear this outfit for Spencer, after all.”

Realization dawned on Daryl. He shook his head and cursed himself for not figuring it out sooner. This was your version of revenge for him deciding not to stay in with you. Under no normal circumstances would you ever wear an outfit like that while doing chores around the community. It all suddenly made perfect sense to the archer.

“Ya did this on purpose?” Daryl asked in an accusing tone, shaking his head when you simply sent him a smug smile. “Yer a damn tease, ya know tha'?”

In a surge of confidence, you dipped down to grab a cherry from the crate Daryl had put on the ground. You stepped forward and looped an arm around Daryl's neck, staring deeply into his ocean coloured eyes as you slowly and sensually bit down into the sweet fruit. A mischievous, teasing smirk rested on your face as you heard Daryl let out a shaky breath, and you pressed your body impossibly closer to your partner's, successfully eliciting a small groan from him when you put just the slightest bit of pressure on his growing erection. “I know,” you whispered in a sultry voice, throwing the stem of the small fruit away to loop your other arm around his neck as well. “That's the whole point. Consider it payback for not staying in with me today. I had so much planned for us today, so many fun activities, but you just had to be your selfless self and do this.”

Daryl gulped and stared down into your eyes, his pupils dilating with each passing second. His hands rested on your hips, his grip tightening at your words. “Wha' activities did ya have in mind?”

Your smirk widened and you leaned up to let your lips hover over his, just barely grazing against his. Daryl's breathing stopped at that action, his eyes following your every movement. “Well,” you began in a seductive whisper, one of your hands trailing down his chest, his stomach and stopping just above the tent that was forming in his jeans. “Let's just say, it's not exactly something people would consider kid-friendly.”

Daryl's heart sped up at your confirmation. He pulled back from you and turned around to pick up the crate he had put down, before looking back at you expectantly. “We have a job to do. Let's get this over and done with, yeah? Then we can go home. The other chores'll have to wait 'till tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened at the pace he had started working at, the smirk on your face ever present. “What? I thought you wanted to get everything done today. Isn't that why you didn't want to stay in with me?”

“Jus' quit smackin' yer red lips and help me, won't ya?”

You giggled and sprung into action, eager to finish up with what you were busy with and to return home with your partner to do something way more exciting than sorting out crates. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” Daryl praised you, sending heat straight down to your core.

Daryl was a selfless man by nature. But just that once, he wanted to indulge in something meant just for him, and that something was the two of you, naked as the day you were born, in bed, limbs tangled together. And Daryl would be damned if he let that opportunity slip between his fingers.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

cherry pt. 1 🍒

gif by @taiturner

touch-starved!fem!reader x touch-starved, shy daryl dixon. this is pure tooth-rotting fluff with protective daryl, set somewhere in alexandria. the reader is a medic, this is a sweet build-up to smut which is going to be in part 2.

3.5k words, suitable for everyone. reader is referred to as "she", written in 3rd person, mostly daryl's pov, all lowercase. title from the lana song cherry because lana + norman = *author barks incoherently and descends into insanity*

her knee landed between his legs with a soft thud. the meat of his thigh surrounded by her legs as he sat under the yellow overhead lamp, daryl's chest rose and fell steadily, caramel skin marred by a deep red welt.

he stunk like bloody sweat, moist soil and gunpowder and lead.

"I'll inject a local," she mumbled, tapping on the glass vial before inserting the syringe and filling it up with a clear liquid, "you gonna need some twenty stitches, boyo."

"you dun' hafta," he, nonetheless, winced; the welt went across his chest, over his pectoral and almost to his collarbone. all and all, far from the worst he's had.

painkillers were a luxury, better spent on someone else, someone not like him. but he knew better than to argue with a medic (or someone filling the position of one, for that matter).

the woman's scent enveloped his senses in an opaque fog of sweet summer sweat over sharp, cheap laundry powder. something bitter, like rosemary and thyme, something sweet, like cherries and wine.

daryl's eyelashes fluttered as the needle pierced his skin: once, twice, five times, all around the jagged edges of the torn wound. the breath he was holding in left his mouth in a humid huff.

her hands, so gentle, prodded at the edges of his hurt until he could answer her question of 'feel anything?' negative, honestly. briefly, the acrid stench of rubbing alcohol overshadowed everything else as she sterilized everything, the tools and him, to the best of her ability.

he opened his eyes.

"now," she lifted her clever eyes, surveying the scene, "I'm gonna perch myself here," she moved that much closer, one knee between his legs, the other on the side of his leg; hovering over the same leg, facing his reclined torso, "you tell me if you're uncomfortable. that's the only light here, I don't mean to invade your personal space like that."

he could have laughed, if not for the risk of disrupting her careful stitching of his flesh.

"don'tcha worry 'bout it, pretty girl," his voice gravelly low, daryl did his best to stay still.

she chuckled softly, "bet you say that to anyone who can stitch you up in an even line."

"no," he scoffed, surprising himself, "jus' you. rick's hardly a pretty girl."

her hands stilled, eyes momentarily darting to his. the yellow light reflected in them, giving her pupils a red-hot gleam, as if devil himself had taken a sharp turn and went to seek refuge inside her instead of coming down to georgia.

he studied it, studied his own blurry, open-mouthed, panting reflection in the pupils of the woman currently perched atop his lap. then the realisation hit him, like a derailed runaway train, and he immediately withdrew to count the cracks in the ceiling.

she cleared her throat, resuming the rhythmical push and pull of the needle.

"didn't know rick could do that."

daryl attempted to shrug - stopping it before the motion reached his shoulders - and grunted instead.

she continued to stitch, the suddenly pregnant silence punctuated by the crinkling of a wrapper. an extra large, sterile bandaid was placed over the wound after she applied something green and foul-smelling atop the now-closed gash; his grunted query was met with a curt,

"antiseptic."

and he was let go with instructions to return the next day for a dressing change.

he lied to himself. he waited until it was dark to show up the next day, well into the summer night, just to be placed in the same position - under the lone hanging lamp, under her.

cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme, complimented by a trail of herbal tea. she smelled like peaches, too, this time. or, perhaps, it were the blooming trees outside her window that snuck their sweet aroma indoors.

"healing nicely," she remarked off-handedly, seemingly oblivious to the rising level of his tension and his inner turmoil. "the pain not too bad? you seem grumpy. grumpier than usual."

this time, he waited until she removed herself from his form to bark a terse laugh.

"no, pretty girl," he eyed her in the dusky, dusty room and received a crooked smile for his troubles, "long day 'is all."

"tell me about it," she huffed, shoulders sagging a bit more than he would have liked.

"who's the prick bothering ya?" he couldn't help it, his mind immediately went... places. surely, he wasn't the only one who noticed her pretty.

"no-one but my own damn brain," she scoffed, seemingly at herself, "and maybe the dick from number 17. it's like he's doing it on purpose."

"doin' what now?" daryl's voice dropped, his eyes squinted. his palm migrated to the handle of his knife, a gesture utterly subconscious.

"gettin' injured," she grumbled, no real heat behind her words, "got shot with a dart last week, sprained his ankle on a routine perimeter check today. how did that man serve 6 years in the army is beyond me."

daryl's head tilted as his chest tensed, heart thudded uncomfortably against his ribs.

"isn't carol taking care of all the broken bones?" he asked, tone laced with suspicion.

she turned to face him; he felt, more than saw, the annoyed roll of her eyes.

"he demands a real doctor," the woman shook off the wrapper before leaning back into him and placing it over his wound in one swift, irritated gesture, "how come nobody's told him I'm just a good faker? everyone knows by this point. all he does is waste resources-"

"woah, woah," daryl's voice rose briefly as he attempted to halt the incoming ramble. not that he didn't want to hear what she had to say, it was just unusual to see the quiet woman so... not herself.

"sorry," she shot immediately, looking away, "he just gives me the creeps. I know it's mean but-"

"no," daryl shook his head immediately, "if he's botherin' you, he's botherin' you and he needa back off."

she chuckled as she leaned back to observe the results of her work. her eyes were tired and a little ashamed. "say whatchu want but you southern fellas are real gentlemen," her smile was soft.

nobody has ever spoken to him like that, much less referred to him as a gentleman. through the momentary awe, daryl let the corners of his lips tilt up in a closed-lipped, shy smile.

he didn't return the next day, and the day after, having been deemed healthy enough by rick to be sent off to hunt some game - all activities classified as "takin' it easy" by the community leader. people needed food, growing kids needed the protein.

the gash on his chest bled a little, not much, and the scab that formed afterwards looked proper, thick and healthy.

as he reached the gates upon his return, he could make out some shouting just on the border of the little gated town. a few voices did their best to be heard, one right over the other.

"whazzat?" he quizzed the guard.

"lil doctor lady," the guard responded, frowning, squinting into the distance, "and big john, arguin' over something. dunno what. rick's there too."

daryl did not like the sound of that. he didn't like that at all. he dumped the three deer right there on the muddy ground as soon as he crossed the threshold of the safe zone, powerwalking towards the arguing trio.

"... 'm tellin' ya, rick, she's makin' shit up! I risk my life every day goin' out and patrollin', getting the damn supplies so she could patch me up like she's s'posed to!" big john, red in the face and fists clenched, stood looming over rick as he defended himself to the unimpressed sheriff, "'s'not like I broke my damn arm on purpose!"

immediately, daryl's bullshit meter went off as alarms blared in his head at full volume. big john's words were a little too loud, a little too passionate.

rick's eyes darted towards daryl's rapidly approaching form; that was all he needed to know about the situation.

"if that were true, you'd have no problem with carol attending to you, man," for the time being, rick successfully played the good cop.

"she's not even a real doctor!"

"neither am I!" the woman finally spoke up, shooting a glance at daryl, too, as her shoulders dropped slightly.

"hey, what's your fuckin' problem?" daryl finally stomped close enough for big john to jump at his words.

"none of your damn business," he shot back immediately, switching to stare down at the woman. it wasn't hard for him to make her shrink: his name was big john for a reason.

"don't bother tha nice lady," daryl scoffed, straightening up, "least you want a fuckin' knuckle sandwich. first and final warning."

"oh, fuck you man," big john turned to daryl, taking a step towards the archer, chest puffing out with the force of his rage. his left hand was in a makeshift cast; the right one rose, rapidly flying, aimed at daryl's face.

it didn't take the archer much effort to side-step the large man. he was immediately responding with a punch of his own.

big john staggered, taking a couple of unsteady steps back; within the next second, another punch connected with his face, sending blood and snot flying as he fell on the ground noisily.

"that's enough!" rick yelled, pulling on daryl's shoulder.

for the time being, the archer was content to let himself be steered away from the fight.

somewhere behind him, a feminine voice mumbled something less-than-polite, sighing, as she joined rick in pulling him away from big john.

"you stay away from her, dipshit!" daryl added hotly, "fuckin' weirdo."

"c'mon big guy," she cooed softly, nodding to rick as she steered him towards her house, "let's get you cleaned up."

he let her drag him indoors, towards the kitchen sink where the smell of herbs was the most potent. throughout the dirt and grime that always followed his hunts, it was a welcome respite. earthy and natural in the best, the most tender of ways.

the woman checked his knuckles, tugging on his big, meaty hand to place it under a stream of cold tap water; his skin was clear, once the grime and blood and dirt was washed off. a coupla punches was nothing, his knuckles too seasoned to sustain an injury from something as simple as a fistfight.

in broad daylight, there was no need for her to perch atop him to check the wound on his chest.

daryl swallowed, following her hands with his eyes. in her pristine, clean kitchen, he'd never felt more out of place as she moved aside the neck of his sweat-stained shirt and touched the soft skin of her fingertips to the scab, checking for infection.

the corners of her mouth finally, finally tilted up. an angry, upset expression had no place on her face; daryl could feel himself deflate as the cloud over the head of the little doctor lady finally, finally dissipated.

"you didn't even tear the stitches, I'm impressed," she complimented him softly, brushing the shirt collar back in place and smoothing it out with her palm, "they're dissolvable, luckily. go wash up and come back, I'll put some antibiotic ointment on it just in case. okay?"

her touch burned, but it was a sweet sort of fire. the kind that remained in his mouth after a particularly delicious batch of spicy wings, blooming as he took a deep breath.

he wanted to chase it with his tongue.

his nostrils flared as he exhaled.

"okay, dar?"

she had a nickname for him. she stared at him with those round, trusting eyes, not knowing that in truth, he was no better than big john.

daryl's cheeks flamed.

"okay," he mumbled, unable to refuse her anything when her eyes.., "dun look at me like dat."

"like what?" she frowned again and oh no, this was so much worse than the earnest concern written plain as day on her face just seconds ago.

his heart hammered in his chest. his fingers twitched. he swallowed the lump in his throat, shuffled his feet.

"cya," finally, his legs cooperated! he ran out of the house like the coward that he was.

he didn't come back as she'd requested. he couldn't. instead, he stubbornly stood under an ice cold stream of water, as long as could manage - and it did exactly nada for his racing thoughts or his traitorous body.

the soap carol had made smelled like herbs.

it smelled like the kitchen where tender fingers prodded at his skin, where soft hair briefly brushed his cheek, where the overhead lamp illuminated a halo around the head of the woman that found a home inside his head on most nights.

dusk fell over the settlement as a knock disturbed the miniscule amount of peace he'd managed to find for himself in the darkness of the basement.

"daryl?" rick's voice yelled, "I gotta favour to ask!"

he was there in an instant. "whassup?"

"the doctor lady. big john's bin runnin' his mouth since dinner, ion like it. I think he's gonna be up to no good."

what daryl liked about rick was his straightforwardness and common sense. such concern had place to be. daryl nodded, walking inside to put on a clean shirt and pick up his crossbow.

"I appreciate it," rick clapped him on the shoulder, "I'd stick around myself but judy is teething and michonne has been up for three nights already, m'afraid she's gonna..."

"no probl'm, rick, ah get it," daryl cut off the rambling man, "you go take care of your baby girl."

as daryl made way to the woman's house, his mind switched to defense mode effortlessly. he knew just the perfect spot to perch himself in, away from prying eyes and well within the observation range of the entries to her house. it wasn't the most comfortable of spots but summer nights were warm and the birdsong from the trees provided a childhood sort of comfort under the clear, dark skies.

as he prepared to settle in, the main door to her house cracked open.

she wore short, thin cotton shorts and a worn out t-shirt and nothing else, a steaming cup of tea clutched securely between her palms. her eyes immediately landed on his dark figure attempting to blend into the dusky underbrush.

"I thought you'd be a no-show," she remarked, a playful tone colouring her voice.

daryl had enough conscience to look sheepish. "uhh," he replied, eloquently, taking a hesitant step towards her house. the light breeze blew the hot fumes of her tea right into his nose, momentarily clouding his judgement. he barely could tear his eyes away from the soft, unblemished skin of her legs.

"c'mon," she waved him in, and he followed, obedient, quiet, like a puppy. she made a brief stop at the stove before pushing a cup into his hands, "I made some tea. not terribly sweet for you, I hope. you seem like a black coffee kinda guy."

the upbeat, companionable chatter sent daryl's head reeling. it's like she was completely oblivious to his clumsiness, to his bluntness, to the awkwardness that seemed to take deep root in his bones whenever he was in her presence.

he took a sip, a courtesy, as she made him sit in that recliner chair again, her body warm and comfortable above him. isn't that what you wanted, moron? his head screamed at him, the annoying voice eerily similar to his late brother's.

"it's okay to let me know you're uncomfortable," she spoke quietly as she moved aside the collar of his shirt once more.

he shivered, it's not like he could help himself. "wha?"

"not everyone likes to be... touched," she briefly looked up, then back again as she rubbed the salve around his scabs, sharp chemicals and plastic disturbing the peaceful aroma of her herbal tea, "my ma used to yell at me to, like... stop hugging random people. sometimes I forget that not everyone is perfectly fine with jus' bein' groped."

"hmm," he managed, struggling not to sound like all of his christmases just had arrived at once. she wanted to touch him. well, not just him-

"these days, I'm not particularly keen on that either, but eventually, the touch starvation catches up to me. I'm just glad that, like, carol and rosita don't freak out or anything, when I play octopus with 'em."

"it's... okay," he had to drink to clear his throat, inhale to clear his mind. "ion mind, pretty girl," daryl tried for a smile and was sure it came more like a grimace. he desperately needed practice in that department.

she chuckled, a dulcet little noise, before her eyes shot up to his. whatever she was looking for, she found it; her hands, done with healing his external wounds, stroked slowly over his shoulders, mapping the broad, muscular expanse of them in one fluid motion. the tips of his hair tickled the tops of her palms.

with only a thin cotton barrier separating daryl's skin from hers, it was as close to heaven as he will ever allowed to be. the cup in his hand scalded his rough palms, hot ceramic burning through the callouses: it was like an afterthought of pain and nothing more.

her fingers connected behind his neck, the pads rubbing over the tense muscle there. the groan left his mouth unnoticed by him, until he could feel the smile on her face bloom just like the flowers outside her window.

"you like that?"

"mmm," he managed, weakly. something inside of him was crumbling. maybe it was the tea that had filled his veins with melted sugar and liquified the strong resolve to not let someone like her be tainted by someone like him.

she kept on kneading his neck and shoulders, like a damn cat working graveyard shift at the biscuit cookie factory.

daryl's deep inhale moved his whole body.

she staggered, brief and sweet, tilting heavily into him to keep up her balance and stop herself from falling over. graceful, she was not.

he was met with a parted mouth, so sweet and red and plump, like ripe cherries; right over his nose, just out of reach, sinful and tantalising in it's own right. the pink, moist meat of her tongue was tucked into the corner of it as her eyes narrowed, something between relief and concentration.

seeing him look, the mouth stretched into a smile, making it that much sweeter. she was looking at him, again, like- like that.

her hands faltered, she swayed in place; daryl's instincts got the better of him and he secured her, one hand holding her body by the hip to steady the sudden bout of clumsiness.

"m'sorry, imma klutz," she looked away sheepishly.

he squeezed her hip on response, letting her know it was okay. and it really was more than that: much to his wide-eyed wonder. he felt like he was the one who should be doing the apologizing. but not only did she not shake off his hand, oh no, she leaned further into him, her belly almost touching his bent forearm.

it took a gargantuan amount of effort just to not pull her in all the way. she was most inviting to touch, all soft curves courtesy of semi-regular meals and tender skin despite the blazing summer sun.

daryl's thumb moved up and down the cotton of her shorts absent-mindedly. the sweet little sighs falling from her lips were hard to miss. almost as if it was someone else pushing her into his arms, a well-meaning ghost perhaps; she tilted in on herself to soak up the warmth of his large, hot body.

a trail of goosebumps ran across his scalp, starting from the place she was rubbing gentle circles into it - at the back of his head, where his hairline met his nape. if he was capable of purring, he would.

instead, he groaned again, eyelashes fluttering, casting a moving shadow on his sharp cheeks. his reward was an equally-content sounding sigh as it drafted into his nose, warm and earthy.

the empty cup thudded against the table where he placed it.

her fingers parted his hair gingerly, taking great care to avoid potential tangles. some finer, smaller hairs still pulled, taking some of his self-deprecation and resolve with 'em as the motion traversed his body in a jolt and settled somewhere deep inside the pit of his belly.

this was getting dangerous.

daryl opened his eyes and stared up.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

💙💜🩷 Books for Bisexuality Visibility Month 🩷💜💙

please support this blog

💜 How incredible is it that I made a list of 99 books for bisexual visibility month, KNOWING there are so many NOT featured on this list? I'm so proud to be bi. Having these characters and stories intertwine with mine warms my heart.

💜 What's your favorite book featuring bisexual characters?

💙 The Henna Wars - Adiba Jaigirdar 💙 Perfect on Paper - Sophie Gonzales 💙 Imogen, Obviously - Becky Albertalli 💙 Red, White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston 💙 Queens of Geek - Jen Wilde 💙 Just Your Local Bisexual Disaster - Andrea Mosqueda 💙 Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute - Talia Hibbert 💙 Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake - Alexis Hall 💙 A Merry Little Meet Cute - Julie Murphy & Sierra Simone

💜 Leah on the Offbeat - Becky Albertalli 💜 The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - Taylor Jenkins Reid 💜 Radio Silence - Alice Oseman 💜 The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue - Mackenzi Lee 💜 You Exist Too Much - Zaina Arafat 💜 Wolfsong - T.J. Klune 💜 The Pairing - Casey McQuiston 💜 Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail - Ashley Herring Blake 💜 Heartstopper - Alice Oseman

🩷 Going Bicoastal - Dahlia Adler 🩷 Some Girls Do - Jennifer Dugan 🩷 Hani & Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating - Adiba Jaigirdar 🩷 Autoboyography - Christina Lauren 🩷 Written in the Stars - Alexandria Bellefleur 🩷 They Both Die at the End - Adam Silvera 🩷 Cool for the Summer - Dahlia Adler 🩷 Delilah Green Doesn't Care - Ashley Herring Blake 🩷 One Last Stop - Casey McQuiston

💙 I'll Be the One - Lyla Lee 💙 Running With Lions - Julian Winters 💙 Take a Hint, Dani Brown - Talia Hibbert 💙 Felix Ever After - Kacen Callender 💙 Not Your Sidekick - C.B. Lee 💙 Ophelia After All - Racquel Marie 💙 Iron Widow - Xiran Jay Zhao 💙 Something to Talk About - Meryl Wilsner 💙 The Girls I've Been - Tess Sharpe

💜 Iris Kelly Doesn't Date - Ashley Herring Blake 💜 Never Ever Getting Back Together - Sophie Gonzales 💜 Her Royal Highness - Rachel Hawkins 💜 Call Me By Your Name - André Aciman 💜 I Wish You All the Best - Mason Deaver 💜 Mistakes Were Made - Meryl Wilsner 💜 Hang the Moon - Alexandria Bellefleur 💜 Kiss Her Once for Me - Alison Cochrun 💜 The Brightsiders - Jen Wilde

🩷 Wild Beauty - Anna-Marie McLemore 🩷 The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue - Victoria Schwab 🩷 Payback's a Witch - Lana Harper 🩷 A Dowry of Blood - S.T. Gibson 🩷 Six of Crows - Leigh Bardugo 🩷 Dark Rise - C.S. Pacat 🩷 If This Gets Out - Sophie Gonzales & Cale Dietrich 🩷 Let's Talk About Love - Claire Kann 🩷 Carry On - Rainbow Rowell

💙 Under the Whispering Door - T.J. Klune 💙 I Kissed Shara Wheeler - Casey McQuiston 💙 Pumpkinheads - Rainbow Rowell 💙 Icebreaker - A.L. Graziadei 💙 This Poison Heart - Kalynn Bayron 💙 A Lot Like Adiós - Alexis Daria 💙 Sorry, Bro - Taleen Voskuni 💙 We Are Okay - Nina LaCour 💙 Count Your Lucky Stars - Alexandria Bellefleur

💜 Hot Dog Girl - Jennifer Dugan 💜 Verona Comics - Jennifer Dugan 💜 They Hate Each Other - Amanda Woody 💜 The Disasters - M.K. England 💜 The Raven Boys - Maggie Stiefvater 💜 You Should See Me in a Crown - Leah Johnson 💜 These Witches Don't Burn - Isabel Sterling 💜 My Dearest Darkest - Kayla Cottingham 💜 City of Shattered Light - Claire Winn

🩷 The Unbroken - C.L. Clark 🩷 Dread Nation - Justina Ireland 🩷 House of Hollow - Krystal Sutherland 🩷 Love & Other Disasters - Anita Kelly 🩷 Ace of Shades - Amanda Foody 🩷 The Lost Girls - Sonia Hartl 🩷 Of Fire and Stars - Audrey Coulthurst 🩷 This Is Kind of an Epic Love Story - Kacen Callender 🩷 Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz

💙 If You Still Recognise Me - Cynthia So 💙 Melt With You - Jennifer Dugan 💙 The Charm Offensive - Alison Cochrun 💙 That Summer Feeling - Bridget Morrissey 💙 The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School - Sonora Reyes 💙 The Luis Ortega Survival Club - Sonora Reyes 💙 The Fiancée Farce - Alexandria Bellefleur 💙 Flip the Script - Lyla Lee 💙 Role Playing - Cathy Yardley

💜 I Think I Love You - Auriane Desombre 💜 Truly, Madly, Deeply - Alexandria Bellefleur 💜 Gearbreakers - Zoe Hana Mikuta 💜 Finally Fitz - Marisa Kanter 💜 The Spirit Bares Its Teeth - Andrew Joseph White 💜 Margo Zimmerman Gets the Girl - Brianna R. Shrum & Sara Waxelbaum 💜 Late Bloomer - Mazey Eddings 💜 A Darker Shade of Magic - Victoria Schwab 💜 Love at First Set - Jennifer Dugan

[juuuulez]

i sound rlly weird asking but can u make a part two of the jerk!ng off head cannons for carl 😇😇

literally of course my man ALWAYS deserves to feel good

this is short and sweet, also strayed away from headcanons and did a little bit of a fic….actually loved writing this

NSFW under the cut, all characters depicted are 18+, MDNI.

It was a hot summers day in Alexandria, resulting in a group of teenagers making their way down to a nearby lake, intending on cooling off and having some fun.

Usually, Carl considered himself more… mature than his peers. There was a war actively brewing, and that’s not to mention walkers, so he didn’t see the value in such a meaningless activity.

Yet, you’d convinced him to come.

“Please, Carl. It’ll be fun!” You’d pleaded, “What else were you gonna do all day? Read comics?”

At the time, he’d protested, made some excuse that he was helping his father. But he wasn’t, and you were right.

So here he was, sitting on one of the large rocks lining the lake, flannel still cast over his shoulders.

The few other teens, yourself included, were enjoying the cool reprieve from the heat. Splashing around, throwing handfuls of sand at each other.

Carl was trying his hardest not to look at you.

Now, he’d never actually seen.. so much of a woman before. Sans those lewd comics, but this was different.

Your bikini was tiny, spaghetti straps wrapping over your shoulders, little triangle cups covering a portion of your breasts. Though the bottoms didn’t match, they were equally small, riding up your ass cheeks and showing a sliver of your inner thighs.

“Carl! Come in!” You’re suddenly calling out to him, which immediately draws his gaze. There’s no avoiding it as you tread closer, propping your elbows up onto the rock that he’s sitting on.

It only squeezes your breasts together, presented nicely in the frame of your arms. Sitting there, waiting.

He forces himself to maintain eye contact, not wanting you to pick up on his obvious disarray. The flush of his cheeks, or the way he squirms a little under the attention. “No, I’m alright.” He excuses.

But you won’t accept this, your grin widening as you hoist yourself onto the rock, coming to sit next to him. “C’mon, you’ve gotta chill out a bit, sometime. Taking a quick dip in the lake isn’t gonna hurt anyone.”

As you speak, your wet skin brushes against his flannel, the contact only worsening the flood of emotions that Carl is experiencing. It’s too much, too quickly, the presence of a pretty, dripping wet, girl is too much to handle.

The sun shines down through the trees, reflecting off your water-coated skin and hair, making it shine. Little droplets slip down your curves, and his eyes fall to one in particular, travelling down the open valley of your breasts.

“I’m going to check the perimeter.” Carl quickly says, swiftly standing up and turning away from you, not wanting to spare another glance at your body. It’s too tempting. That, and a shameful blush makes it’s way to his cheeks, his own body reacting to the contact in a way he’d rather you not realise.

He trudges past the treeline, out into the expanse of forest that circles the lake. It’s not too far off from Alexandria, in fact, he can just see the walls from this distance.

Carl wants to stay, he really does. Anything to put that smile on your face, where you’d say his name in that happy tone, completely enamoured by the smallest thing.

But he’s got a problem to deal with.

He leans against a tree, the thin flannel acting as a barrier between his back and the bark. There’s an obvious tent in his swimmers, poorly hidden due to the loose material.

“Fuck..” Carl curses under his breath, a little annoyed that he even has to do this. It doesn’t feel leisurely, but a chore, an irritating burden that needs to be solved before he can go have fun with everybody else.

So he takes another look around, making sure the area is clear before snaking his hand underneath the waistband, letting his fist wrap around his half-hard cock. A few strokes brings it to its full length, already hot and throbbing, where he can pull it free.

This isn’t the time to draw it out, so Carl clamps one hand over his mouth, the other working feverently to jerk himself off, as quickly as possible.

Yet, he can’t help but fall into a pleasurable rhythm, eye falling closed as he savours the feeling. His mind wanders, curious as to what you’d think of him now, doing something so lewd with no privacy.

It causes embarrassment to well in his gut, but it only fuels his desire, squeezing his hand a little tighter around his length, thumb collecting the precum from the tip only to spread it back down.

Each time his mind lingers too long on you, in that tiny bikini, he can practically feel it oozing out of him. Desperation floods his veins, now more focused on cumming, a reality that isn’t far away now that his brain is filled with images of you, on your knees before him.

What would your mouth feel like? Your hands? Would you take it slow, drag it out, or were you more of a quickie person?

Eventually Carl’s mind lands on you with your mouth open, plump lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. He similarly stimulates the swollen head, groaning into the back of his hand as he finally shoots his load onto the forest floor.

The pleasure begins to subside, ebb away, but the embarrassment stays. Though he takes a moment to compose himself, try and regain his footing, when Carl finally comes back to the lake, it’s quite obvious the boy is in some state.

There’s tree bark in his hair.

You smile, finally coaxing Carl into the water. He still doesn’t look at you, all embarrassed and flushed. This time, you make a point to lean as close as possible, to stroke your hand up his arm, let your thighs touch under the water.

How long will he last this time?

[aloysiavirgata]

Your own take to the old "ust but they got married for convenience" prompt please. Thank you☺️.

Virginia Is For Lovers, the slogan claimed, but she knew it was for straight married people of the same race. Ideally white. Ideally Protestant.

Ideally fertile.

***

“It doesn’t have to change anything,” she murmurs. “It’s just a Potemkin Village for the court.” Her eyes are big and hot and searching and desperate. Her eyes are the color of Lake Tashmoo in high summer. He lost a little girl once, Scully lost a sister. There mustn’t be any more.

“Okay,” he says, and does not touch her. “Whatever you need,” he says and does not say, “Love is as strong as death. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away.”

***

Her eyes as hot as the burning skin of her daughter in Mulder’s arms.

His daughter, he knows in his secret heart. He loves Scully, loves Emily, like carbon loves hydrogen. Like oxygen loves silicon. Like the ocean loves the moon.

“Mulder,” she says, with her raw honesty. With her raw beauty. With her raw love. Her daughter, pale and aflame and doomed. The only thing she wants and so, vicariously, does he. He would burn himself to keep them warm, their blue eyes like binary stars.

“Marry me,” he says, his lips tremulous and tender. His Jewish lips lips in Good Christian Alexandria, Virginia. He wants to suck at her mouth like a bruised June peach. He wants his head between her pale, firm thighs.

But he dips his well-bred head, hands her his mother’s 3.25 carat brilliant-cut diamond. It’s flawless and beautiful and absolutely obnoxious.

Scully looks at him, broken and vulnerable. Scully looks at him like she wants to die for him, wants to fuck him, wants him to sneak Emily’s tooth from under a pillow into his hot, lonely, gingerbread palm.

Time stretches like it does in the cold void of space. At the top of Everest, at the edge of a black hole.

“Yes,” she says, into the sweet, infinite dark.

[lemon69lol]

I just realized it's been a HOT ASS SECOND since I've forced the world to see my cring oc that has consumed my life

gady's and lentlemen

Lizzy

Name: Elizabeth Alexandria Erksine

Age: 17

Catchphrase: don't tell my mom

Epithet: the richest girl in town

Favorite ride: the scrambler

Over view: Shes the old money, popular, preppy, lana del ray core, early 2000s girl of every pinterest boards dream that I made just to ship with Mischa when I first watched the musical

Actual lore: her family founded and owned the uranium mines up untill their closing and they have the money (and privlage) to show it

Lizzy's fully a latch key kid. her parents decided that at the ripe age of 10, she was old enough to be by herself at home while they do rich people shit. Who needs present parents in your life when you got your dads credit card and no spending limit

Despite the rich popular mean girl vibe she has lizzys actually really sweet

Random info:

Genuinely likes mischas rap much to the confusion of everyone

She works as a life guard during the summer because in a rear moment of parenting from her dad he decided she needed to build a work ethnic and appreciate the value of money ( never once did they take away her credit card and allowance during this)

Her mom put her in figure skating as a kid and she's absolutely killing it in highschool

Her parents probably should get divorced, but her dad likes the money, and her mom is to prideful for that.

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Masterlist

~Negan Smith~

~Pretty little letters ( Mini Series)~

Dads best friend AU, After leaving college you decide to take a year travelling the country, after promising your dad to write to him, Negan asks if you can write to him too, feelings come out in the end.

Part 1

Part 2 (complete )

~ It’s always been you (2 part mini series)~

Developing a crush on your dads best friend as a teenager, slowly morphs into something deeper as you grow up. When your husband upsets you, lines blur and feelings arise you’ll either burn your life to the ground, or you’ll get everything you’ve ever wanted since you were 17.

Part 1

Part 2

~ I’ll never let this go

Negan, during his redemption arc. There’s always been something about you, even when he first met you at Alexandria to collect ‘payment’ he knew he couldn’t ever do something to hurt you. After his empire falls and his life resides to the four walls of his cell, his soft spot morphs into a friendship that all too quickly on his side turns into deep feelings. Feelings that are in his mind definitely unrequited, how could you ever love a monster? But when you’re hurt everything bubbles up to the surface.

Fuzzy Socks - stepdad Negan x reader

~Joel Miller~

Light it up -Dbf Joel No outbreak AU!! An idea came to mind about Joel regretting saying something that leads to her ending things, then sitting by his phone, frantically pulling it out everytime it buzzes. Praying it’s her, telling him she misses him back, he basically becomes a mess.

My Heart is yours -When Joel leaves you heartbroken in a apocalypse, you go out on your own only to run into a hot headed archer, who turns your world around.

Southern & Slow - short (ish) drabble based on Luke Bryan's song southern and slow, or in other words lazy Sunday mornings with our southern cowboy!

Who’s afraid of little old me! Angst and heartbreak I’m sorry! Happy ending with Spencer Reid though!

~Love and Pipelines mini (series)~

The reader is a competitive surfer, when she is invited to compete at Pipeline Hawaii, the man who she's fallen for offers to accompany her, the only problem is he's her dads best friend!

Part 1

Part 2 (coming soon)

Part 3

~Daryl Dixon~

My Heart is yours - When Joel Miller leaves you heartbroken in a apocalypse, you go out on your own only to run into a hotheaded archer, who turns your world around.

It still isn’t over

Story based on the film/ book The Notebook, young Daryl Dixon x fem reader.

No outbreak au where the reader is from a privileged background, when she visits her country summer home she meets a boy who turns her whole world upside down.

~Somewhere only we know~ (Series)

No outbreak and modern ish day AU (set in 2007-2010 era) Reader moves to the Georgia mountains, to live with her dad for her final year of school, as her mum is going travelling with her new husband. She meets a shy redneck boy with a tragic background, who immediately captures her heart.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 (coming soon)

I choose us every time

Where an artistic surfer girl, falls in love with a southern boy with a rough past.

~Sam Winchester~

Fix you - Soulmate AU with Sammy, based on the coldplay song Fix You. Where the reader uses her soulmate bond with Sam to help fix the damage Lucifer has inflicted.

~Spencer Reid~

Mini Series Science & Magic

Science and magic - (on hiatus), I need to rewatch these shows) Criminal minds and agents of shield crossover, when an inhuman reader meets the genius Spencer Reid.

Who’s afraid of little old me after your dad’s best friend breaks your heart, you find love again in Spencer Reid.

~Lord Alfred Debling (Bridgerton)~

It was enchanting to meet you

[enid-rhees]

lessons | michonne hawthorne x fem!reader

summary: your longtime crush Michonne decides to teach you how to correctly use her katana. you can’t help but get nervous whenever she’s close to you.

warnings: kinda suggestive? not sure but there’s a LOT of tension.

A/N: my first Michonne story! reminder that requests for her and everyone in my pinned are OPEN! just read rules before requesting 🫶🏻

the sun was blistering hot. summers in Alexandria had to be on your list of top ten least favorite things. sweat dripped down your face as you aimed your handgun at the makeshift target.

you closed one eye, keeping your hand steady as you tried to keep it on the the target. you shot the gun, watching the bullet go through the head of the target. you smiled proudly at yourself.

“practicing again?” a voice said from behind you. you automatically recognized that voice, how could you not? you turned around, eyes landing on Michonne.

Michonne, possibly the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met. the girl that completely stole your heart a year ago. she doesn’t know that though, and she shouldn’t. she can’t.

if it was possible, your face burned even more just at the sight of her. you looked down, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “yeah. just thought i could use a bit of it.”

she shook her head, “i don’t think you do. you’re really good with a gun.” the compliment almost made you weak the knees.

the effect Michonne had on you was embarrassing almost. no one was ever able make you feel the way Michonne did. it was a feeling you couldn’t describe.

you shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “but,” Michonne dragged out, a hint of mischief in her voice. “i could teach you how to use my sword.” she smiled.

“you’re joking.” you said. “that’s like- your prized possession. you’re really gonna let me use it?” you questioned, laughing.

“you’re an exception.” she said casually, pulling the sword off her back. she walked closer to you, grabbing your hand and taking you over to one of the targets. your hand burned under her touched and you prayed she wouldn’t notice.

“stand here.” she instructed, pointing to the ground. you stood where she pointed, looking at her for the next instruction. Michonne placed the sword in your hands as she stood behind you now.

she placed her hands on yours when you positioned the sword. your hands went stiff under her touch. her body was pressed right against yours, and the heat wasn’t making the situation any better.

“hold it like this.” she said softly, controlling your hands to put it in the correct position. you found yourself breathing slightly harder than before. your heart was racing.

once it was in the correct position, she spoke again. “swing,” you swung the sword across the target, the wooden head slicing off with ease. you smiled in disbelief and turned back to her, she mirrored your smile. “you did it!” she exclaimed. “and you did so good,”

your throat felt tight. why the hell was she doing this to you?

“one more time.” she said, clapping her hands lightly. she stood behind you once more, helping you reposition the sword. “stand like this,” she mumbled, placing her hands on your waist. you inhaled sharply at the contact.

Michonne stopped her movements. she peered her head over your shoulder, “you’re nervous.” she commented. you looked down, avoiding her eyes.

she moved from her spot behind her, now standing in front of you so you couldn’t avoid her. “why are you nervous?” she questioned you.

you looked up at her but didn’t respond. your words hesitated, your mouth opening but no words coming out.

one glance at her lips gave it all away, but you couldn’t help yourself. she took another step closer to you. “because of you.” you whispered with the small amount of boldness you had.

she didn’t say anything. for a moment, you were sure you fucked up by saying that. the thought was pushed away when Michonne suddenly captured your lips in hers.

the katana fell out of your hands as they wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer to you. the heat was no longer a problem, all you could focus on was the way her lips felt on yours.

she pulled away first, but she still kept a grip on your waist to hold you against her. you smiled, “can you teach me again?”

[anakinsafterlife]

Every day, I see this fruit and vegetable seller come by with his donkey.

[dearabby1990]

Twd Daryl Dixon A world of our own Chapter 4: About last night

Feeling the warmth of the sun and seeing the orange glow of the morning behind your eyelids would’ve been the perfect way to wake up today if not for the pounding headache you woke up with. Sitting up to rub your eyes you noticed you’re all by yourself in Rosita’s living room yawning and stretching your feet to the floor as you stand up she pops up from the dining room “hey chica I made some coffee and there’s two aspirin on the table there” you let out a sigh of relief “aww girl you’re the best my head sounds like a game of Jumanji right now” she chuckles as she folds up the sofa and bedding “so after this you wanna head over the the greenhouse to meet up with Eugene?” “Sounds good” drinking your coffee together you both head outside towards the crops where many people are already at work for the day. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Daryl on the front porch feeling his eyes on you nope not giving him the satisfaction say good morning for what he doesn’t like me right so why bother with pleasantries. The day was hot but your really enjoyed working along side Rosita making you laugh all day helping the time pass but even as upset as you were your eyes just couldn’t help but steal glances no matter where he went. You and Rosita go to pick the ripe vegetables for the day filling a nice size basket when you see a large shadow tower overtop of you both looking up to see a man you’ve seen around but don’t really know “morning ladies” Rosita rolls her eyes “I’ve don’t think we’ve met I’m Spencer” sticking out his hand to you which you hesitantly shake “scout nice to meet you?..” he grins at you leaving you with an unsettling feeling “we’re having a little get together tonight hope to see you there” he winks as he walks away you shiver in disgust “something about him gave me the willies” she makes a stink face “yeah he’s kind of a creep” you snort “definitely not my type” you laugh. She looks up at you “so is there someone here that is??.. Come on chica spill” smiling at you “uh… I don’t know?..” “yeah you sure?.. that sounded more like a question then an answer” laughing it off you both finish up the days work reporting back to Eugene to let him know how much was harvested today to keep track for future reference for summers yet to come. Afterwards you and Rosita are walking around Alexandria talking “so is everyone going to this thing tonight because if not I’d rather not go alone with that guy around” she laughs “yeah he doesn’t give me a good vibe either never has & we’re all gonna be right there with you no worries they do these things every so often so we can discuss plans on how to run this place a little better” both nodding “cool well I hope i have something that isn’t covered in dirt or blood to wear” “we’ll find ya something chica don’t worry”. Heading back to hers she digs through what she has “we seem to be about the same size… well except for those huge boobs of yours” you swat at her “shush I can’t help it all the women in my family aren’t any smaller than a C cup” “holy boobs” laughing and getting ready she gave you a nice pair of fairly new black jeans and a lilac v neck top. She let you do her hair after she saw the single side braid you gave yourself before curling your long locks. Going into your bag you pull out the dusty cigar box pulling out a decently aged preroll “hey girlfriend you partake or no?” “Oh hell yeah you got a light?!” You whip out your zippo tossing both into her lap as she picks it up inspecting it nodding her head in approval before flicking the flame to take the first pull. By the time you were stubbing it out you were both all giggles heading outside looking like you were both heading out to a ladies night at the bar. Shoulder bumping each other and cracking small jokes approaching the house where everyone gathered to head inside. What you didn’t see was Daryl watching you from the shadow of a nearby tree smoking a cigarette drinking you squinting to get a better look watching you be the most carefree he’s seen you since met. Carol spots him & walks over

“There you are… come on let’s go get ourselves a drink” they walk in together. You’re having a blast talking to Maggie Rosita Glenn and Abraham feeling the affects of both the weed & the wine as you body starts to feel warm and fuzzy. The night seems to be going fairly well the packed house full of talking and laughing adults having drinks and discussing important matters. You glass being empty again you head to get yourself another drink making your way into the kitchen as you start to pour you feel a hand at the small of your back startling you as you gasp spilling a bit on the counter “hey there beautiful you come all by yourself tonight?” The voice instantly causing you to feel nauseous and annoyed. Turning to see none other then Spencer with a grin plastered on his face “no not by myself with family” you clear your throat “what no date?” Scoffing “don’t need one” he chuckles at you narrowing his eyes “wanna go for a walk or something maybe come back to my place?” You’re seeing red “no thanks I’ll pass now if you’ll excuse me..” as you attempt to brush past him but he grabs onto your wrist “hey now… where you gotta run off to so fast the night is still young” you shiver in disgust “Listen I don’t know who the fuck you think you are Fabio but if you don’t let go of me right now I’m gonna break your fucking arm!” You spat before he could get another word in a fist comes crashing into his face surprising you causing you to stumble backwards thankfully being caught by rick “you okay?” You can speak only nod as he helps you up and the guys are trying to pull Daryl off of Spencer “ya hard of hearing or somethin asshole when someone ain’ fuckin interested you don’t fuckin force them ta be!! You ever fuckin touch her again or as little as breathe in her direction I’ll fuckin feed ya to the dead you understand me?!!!” Why all this is happening the ladies are all consoling you on the porch outside. You’re hyperventilating trying not to cry it’s becoming unbearable why does he care anyway you need to get away so you start running towards the house just as Daryl comes to check on you seeing you flee he’s hot on your heels yelling your name but you can’t hear him heart pounding so fast and loud it’s like your ears are filled with water and all you can hear is the sounds of yourself. You trip falling flat hands catching the gravel before you face could take a hit “Fuck!” You’ve had it Daryl slides next to you as if he was heading for home plate placing his hands on your shoulders takes you a minute to hear him “SCOUT?!” You flinch covering your face and his face softens “Hey… hey I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare ya” you look up at him trying still to hold it all together “why do you care Daryl?? Why you don’t like me so why defend me why check on me or even bother for that matter I’m nothing but a freak and a waste of time” pushing yourself up on wobbly legs as he steadys you with confusion written all over his face “where is all this comin from i ain’t never said you were a freak or that I didn’t care” you scoff “I heard what you said or did you forget I walked in on that? I get it okay I wouldn’t wanna look at me either” you push past to go up the porch stairs but he stops you “what are ya talkin about woman yer not a freak why do ya think that?” You chuckle “really oh please let’s just save ourselves the bull shit and I don’t need your god damn pity after either” you go inside as he follows shutting the door behind him you rip off your shirt letting you back face him you hear his breath catch in his throat “yeah that’s what I thought you wanna say I’m not a god damn monster now I don’t need to be lied to I got tormented enough for it most of my life so spare me” you run up the stairs slamming your bedroom door behind you sitting against the door finally letting it all out. A bit of time goes by and you hear feet shuffling towards the door and someone knocks “go away Daryl!” Silence for what feels like an eternity “it’s Carol sweetheart I’m with the girls it’s just us… may we come in?”

You hesitantly unlock and open the door to be met with a concerned looking Carol,Rosita,Maggie & Michonne you lower your head looking at your feet and step back silently giving them permission to come in Maggie comes in last closing the door behind her as you sink sitting onto the bed with your head in your hands. Carol takes a seat next to you & the rest of the ladies find a comfortable spot on the bed to sit. They give you all the time you needed to pull yourself together before Carol breaks the silence “you know… you can tell us anything right? Us ladies here have our own little circle of trust and once your part of it words spoken in that circle stay there and none of us ever dare to break the chain… so if there’s anything at all you want to talk about we’re always here to listen”. It takes you awhile but you walk them through everything from the very beginning to up until you met the boys in the woods. Filling them in on everything that’s transpired over the years not sparing a single detail. Telling them of your fathers abuse and how he tried to take your life and how your grandparents were your saving Grace taking to away from the horrors of your home and raising you in a way that made life worth something again. Of course the pain your father inflicted on you had a lasting effect on your life bullies throughout school calling you the cruelest of names even cornering you and attacking you for simply just existing. By the time you finish you all had went through three bottles of wine and two full boxes of tissues. Carol holding your hands telling you of her late husband Ed and all the hell he put her through and her telling you that some of us have had similar experiences you’re wondering who else has fallen victim to such things. You definitely need something to clear your mind so you ask Rosita to accompany you beyond the walls tomorrow in search of something to work on as a project in your spare time so you don’t get lost in your traumas to you a busy mind is a clear one. So you made plans of leaving at sunrise Maggie & Michonne bid you a goodnight letting you know it’ll only go up from here especially now that you’ve found your place in an apocalyptic world. Carol ended up heading to bed for the night leaving you & Rosita in your bedroom “You gonna be okay chica or do you want me to stay or come to mine?” You sniffle and smile “yeah I don’t wanna be alone right now let’s head to yours let me pack a bag and we’ll get outta here” with that you pack all you need for tonight and for your run tomorrow before grabbing everything to head out being cautious as you leave not wanting to see Daryl at the moment. By the time you both get to rositas you’re exhausted and you can see she is too so sleep was something that definitely came with ease rolling yourself into the blanket like a human burrito or a caterpillar hiding in its cocoon the warmth and silence like a shield protecting you from anything and everything.

[ddarker-dreams]

Pinpoint.

Daryl Dixon x F Reader.

Notes: i'm back on my bullshit . this is set in the same universe as hierarchy of needs, giving more context to reader and daryl's relationship because they're cuties <3 Tags: Farm/prison/Alexandria era, some not SFW implications, typical TWD horror elements sprinkled throughout. Word count: 7.3k.

i.

It’s a hot, Georgian summer day, the kind that makes your clothes stick to your skin from how profusely you’re sweating. Daryl stands to his full height after putting the finishing touches on his tent. It’s a somewhat messy job, considering the frantic state he was in while working on it, but he can’t bring himself to care. He haphazardly tosses his stake hammer onto a nearby patch of grass and rummages through the rest of his belongings.

Frustration bleeds into his every movement. From his bag’s zipper getting stuck to some of his tools refusing to budge without a great exertion of force. He huffs, having half a mind to call it a night and deal with this in the morning. He decides against it when he remembers how far removed he is from the main group. Waltzing back over so he can ask to borrow supplies defeats the entire purpose of him taking up residence on a secluded section of the farm.

A twig crunching alerts him to someone — or something’s — oncoming approach. He whips his head in the sound’s direction, ready to sling his crossbow into place should it be necessary.

He doesn’t relax when he realizes it’s your figure growing closer. If anything, it adds to his tension, the knowledge you’re going to see him like this. That you’re going to witness him at his worst. Ever since Shane forced the doors of the barn open, Daryl swears the part of his brain capable of thought turned off. It had to. Otherwise, his mind would haunt him, jeering at his many failures.

You’re approaching an uncaged beast. He knows it, he figures you’re smart enough to know it too.

So that begs the question: why are you here?

“Hey,” you greet, your voice tentative. “I brought you some dinner.”

He doesn’t respond or so much as acknowledge your existence. He forces his hands to work, to find something to do, anything that’d give you the impression he’s busy and can’t be bothered with whatever this is. Mustering up the words to communicate the sentiment sounds exhausting. If you insist on hanging around, it’ll only be a matter of time until he snaps and says something he’ll regret upon later reflection. The Dixon blood that runs through his veins is akin to molten lava, boiling and ready to incinerate anything that dares come into contact with it.

He hears the clinking of silverware, you’ve set the plate down on a pushed-over log. He’d pray that’s the end of it, if he thought God hadn’t made a point of tuning him out.

“Daryl?”

Any other day, he’d bask in the soft warmth that is your voice. It’s such a pleasant sound, a dulcet tone that makes every song he’d ever listened to seem shrill in comparison. Right now, however, it’s akin to little needles pricking his skin. It hurts and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. He’s a hot mess, a ball of volatile emotions tumbling every which way. His mind’s eye conjures up images specifically tailored for his torment.

The Cherokee rose. Carol’s howl of agony upon seeing what became of her precious little girl. That awful, guttural snarling, milky white eyes set into a concaving skull, putrid, rotting flesh, and limp walk as the child Daryl swore to find hobbled forward.

How long was she out there? Did she starve? Did she curl up at night, whimpering her momma’s name, waiting for someone to rescue her who never came?

He’ll never know. The quiet pain she endured died when she did.

“The hell are you looking at?” Daryl demands, his nostrils flaring and chest heaving. “Got somethin’ to say, huh? Well, go on then. Spit it out already. I ain’t got all day.”

The vitriol pouring from his mouth has no business being directed at you, he knows that. Still, it comes out regardless, his tongue faster than his common sense. He can’t see your expression — he’s purposefully looking everywhere else — but he reckons that should scare you off. Have you running for the hills with your tail between your legs.

Whether that’s truly what he wants, he can’t say for certain. He does know it’ll be for the best in the long run. Whatever juvenile feelings he’s been harboring toward you should be crushed before they develop into something more. It won’t be as simple as ripping off a bandaid if he lets things go on this way. If he doesn’t, he’ll be too far gone; having to do without you would be worse than getting torn limb for limb. The level of dependency frightens him to the core.

There’s nothing practical for you to accomplish by taming the wild beast. It isn’t like back at the quarry, where your next meal depended on Daryl’s hunting more often than not. There’s livestock here, fresh produce, canned goods. Whatever value he had to you then is nil. It’s painful, to the degree his chest physically aches, but that’s just how it is. Merle told him so. Said the only reason you gave a redneck asshole like himself the time of day was due to some survival instinct. A pretty girl like you wouldn’t have paid him any mind otherwise.

If only Daryl had listened then, it’d make this whole song and dance infinitely easier. He could run his mouth, tell you off, whip up curses that’d make even a sailor blush.

For some reason, he just can’t bring himself to.

“I, uh, brought something else. Other than food, I mean.”

There’s a shift in your tone. It’s less guarded, more conversational, as if he were an old pal you happened upon and were just warming up to again.

Finally, he gathers the courage to get a good look at you. You’ve pulled your hair back into a ponytail, some stray strands framing your pretty face and kissing your cheeks. Your eyes are glazed over with worry, and something else too, an emotion no one has ever directed at him before. He fears putting a name to it. Beneath the dying sun, he catches the near imperceptible wetness of your cheeks. His breath hitches in his throat. You must’ve finished crying recently.

Today proved there’s plenty to cry about. If he can have it his way, though, he doesn’t want to be a reason added to the ever-expanding list.

Daryl gives you a grunt, proving you have his attention, as if you ever didn’t. The change in your countenance is immediate, if not perplexing. Why does his approval make you look like you’d just won the lottery? You shouldn’t care what some backwoods asshole like himself thinks, he knows he sure as hell wouldn’t try so hard if he were in your position. Yet here you are, approaching him with a bashful expression that has no business being as endearing as it is.

You unveil the surprise from behind your back with a little flourish, that had it not been for the events of the day, would’ve been far more enthusiastic. Regardless, it’s cute enough that he damn near smiles.

From the shape, he can determine that it’s meant to be an arrow. The dimensions are exactly the same as the type his crossbow takes, which does away with the mystery of why you asked to borrow one of his arrows earlier this week. You must’ve made it a point to replicate what he uses to the best of your ability. The wooden shaft has been smoothed out, aside from a few bumps. He can tell you used your knife to whittle the tip into a sharp point by the imprints.

When you pass it over to him, he notes the bandaids on your hands that most definitely weren’t there days prior. A consequence of working with wood, undoubtedly.

Daryl doesn’t think he could form proper words if it was demanded of him with a gun to his head. He searches the recesses of his memory for the last time someone gave him a gift — a handmade one, no less — and draws a blank. He stares at the labor of love unblinkingly. The pain that once resided in his chest cavity is made light, almost fluttery.

If you told him you’d placed him under a spell, he would’ve believed you.

“Admittedly, it’s not the best, but it’s better than my other attempts,” you laugh in an attempt to mask your embarrassment. It’s a habit you display in the rare instances you aren’t sure what to say. “I wanted to thank you, somehow. In a way that’s tangible.”

He raises his head. “Why?”

The word comes out rushed, almost abrasive, yet there’s no anger to be found on his face. You must be able to tell, for you don’t cower. You don’t treat him like a ticking time bomb, an errand boy, or some wounded animal. His older brother couldn’t have been more wrong. You weren’t nice to him back then because you stood something to gain from it — you just like being around him, for whatever inconceivable reason.

The dead rising again makes more sense to him than that.

“Well, I could prattle off a long list, but I’ll spare you the embarrassment. Hm… if I had to sum it up, I guess I’d say… you make the world feel less scary.”

He’s once again left speechless at your candor. When things are ‘normal’, whatever that word means nowadays, you’re always joking around with him. Being your little charming self that draws people in like a beacon to lost ships at sea. As much as he enjoys that side of you, he’s always felt there’s more. Some aspect of yourself you’ve made difficult to see by design. While he can’t pinpoint the coordinates exactly, he can roughly guess the location.

You take on too much of others so you can forget yourself.

The voice you used toward the latter half of your sentence, the quiet, solemn tinge that contrasts how you normally present yourself; it’s the hidden glimmer he’s been searching for.

“I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time, so I’ll be heading back now.”

While saying this, you turn around, and he finds himself wishing that he could see your face. His thoughts are too muddled to make sense of everything. He remembers the weight in his hands, how yours got scratched up so it could be there.

Daryl calls your name. You stop, looking over your shoulder with all the patience in the world. More patience than he deserves.

“… Thanks.”

It comes out more like a grunt, a rumbling that originates deep in his chest and from the heart.

“No, thank you.”

With that, you leave him be, his head feeling light and face burning up like he’d caught a nasty fever.

ii.

It’s an unusually quiet day.

The persistent rattle of the chain link fences has eased into a lull, granting a reprieve for those taking shelter behind them. The mood around the prison is a pleasant one — as pleasant as it can be, during the apocalypse — contentment cautiously settling in. The past few runs have been bountiful and earned without the shedding of human blood, the number on Beth’s ‘x days without an accident’ growing higher.

Rick details some equipment that’d aid in his farming endeavors to Daryl, who dutifully commits the tools listed to memory. While things are looking up, Daryl’s never been the type to settle or grow complacent. He wants this place to be the best it can be.

Their conversation about expanding the pen’s fence comes to a premature end when a young man named Ryan runs over. Daryl recruited him a few weeks prior, a benevolent act that’s really come back to bite him in the ass. Although Ryan acknowledges Daryl with a nod of his head, he focuses his attention on Rick.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Ryan starts, and Daryl has to bite back a rebuttal about how if he was truly sorry, he wouldn’t have done it. “Maggie told me she saw [First] headed this way. Have either of you seen her?”

If Daryl’s glowering wasn’t obvious before, it certainly should be now. Does this guy have nothing better to do than chase others around and interrogate them over your whereabouts? The man’s supposed to be a mechanic or whatever, Daryl imagines there are a thousand more productive ways he could utilize his time. Instead, he opts to follow you around like some dejected puppy, a fact that grates Daryl to no end.

Daryl turns to stare Rick down, as if in silent warning. Officer Friendly must not notice the leer, or if he does, he makes a point of ignoring it. “Actually—”

“Ain’t seen her,” Daryl interrupts, his voice more of a guttural growl than anything else.

Rick raises an eyebrow but doesn’t confirm or deny the claim.

Ryan glances between the two of them before offering a nervous laugh. “Alright, well, if you do, please tell her I was hoping we could talk.”

Daryl genuinely has to bite back a groan at this. He’d sooner take a bullet than help matchmake this nuisance with his best-friend-who-he-swears-he-isn’t-romantically-interested-in-whatsoever. Rick, always the mediator, swears to do just that. This satisfies Ryan enough for him to run off and be annoying elsewhere. Once the interloper is out of earshot, Rick turns to face Daryl with raised eyebrows and a tilted head.

“We haven’t seen her?” Rick repeats Daryl’s previous words back, though his intonation conveys disbelief.

“Nah, not if he’s the one asking.”

Fortunately, Ryan just missed you by a few minutes. Whereas Daryl looked at Ryan with nothing but disdain for interrupting his conversation with Rick, the same couldn’t be said when you were the one doing it. Hell, you could wake him up in the middle of the night just because you wanted to and he wouldn’t have a single complaint on his tongue. You came over to say that ‘you must absolutely, under no circumstances be nominated for the council’ then not so subtly threw in the fact you flunked AP government for good measure.

This whole business of forming a council to make important decisions at the prison has been the bane of your existence. Not due to any opposition to the idea on your behalf, but because people were suggesting that you should be a part of it. Daryl’s stuck in a similar predicament. In your free time, you’ve been flitting around, running what you’ve dubbed ‘an anti-campaign campaign.’ Your core tenets are as such, according to the long-winded explanation Daryl happily sat through: raising taxes by 100% (you made a face when he pointed out taxes no longer exist), working for the sole interest of your lobbyists rather than the working class, and mandatory attendance to Carol’s reading sessions for all ages.

Needless to say, you’re very passionate about not being put in a position of power.

“Why? She say that he’s bothering her or something?” Rick’s voice goes from teasing to serious in record time. Daryl’s protectiveness over you could only be rivaled by Rick’s, who has taken to viewing you as a younger sister or something. The former sheriff often expresses his gratitude for the way you can make Carl laugh and smile with ease. This quality of yours has earned you the affectionate nickname ‘Miss Social Butterfly’ amongst your inner group.

“Doesn’t need to.”

And back to teasing Rick goes. “You just know?”

Never one to back down, Daryl replies, “I just know.”

“Mhm. I'm sure you do.”

“You got somethin’ you wanna say?” Daryl challenges, although he can’t say he isn’t used to this teasing by now. If it isn’t Carol giving him shit for how he looks at you, then it’s Rick. He’s yet to decide which one is worse to endure.

Rick gives it some thought, his face morphing into one of serious contemplation. “You’d be good for another. Hey, don’t look at me like that, I mean it. You ground her. Bring her down when her head is a little too far up in the clouds. And she… she brings out the best in you. People sometimes go their whole lives without ever finding a connection like that.”

As if Rick needed to point any of this out when it’s what he thinks about all the damn time.

You mesh together surprisingly well. At first, he told himself he only put up with your presence, but that’s a lie that aged poorly. He found himself orbiting in your vicinity more often than not. It might be a bit creepy of him to admit, but just watching you go about your day is a delight. You wear your heart on your sleeve. If something annoys you, you scrunch your nose up in the cutest little display; if you’re excited, there are practically stars in your eyes as you animatedly chat about what’s on your mind. Then there’s how you sing to yourself when you’re certain no one is around, your voice pretty enough to rival an angel—

Alright, maybe it’s more than a bit creepy. Who can blame him, though, when you have the audacity to go around being as cute as you are? It can’t be good for his heart.

Daryl only responds once he’s certain there’s no one in the immediate vicinity.

“She doesn’t look at me like that, man.”

Speaking the insecurity out loud hurts no less than when it skulks about in his mind. He’ll entertain himself with thoughts of a world where he gets to call you his. Some idyllic fantasy land where he gets to lavish you with all his affection, hugging you tight and feeling your soft body against his, kissing you like parting promised instant death. Indeed, he’ll entertain these whimsical thoughts, but he’s not foolish enough to think they’ll ever actually happen.

“She doesn’t?” Rick doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. “And here I thought hunters were s’posed to have good eyesight. C’mon, Daryl. She lights up when you enter a room. She gives you those eyes.”

“Eyes?” Daryl repeats back, equal parts confused and intrigued.

“Yeah, the eyes. That dreamy, far-off look women get.”

Daryl scoffs, finding the mere notion of it inconceivable. “Quit screwin’ with me already.”

Rick puts his hands up in defense. “There’s no screwin’ happening here, Daryl. Just the truth. Don’t know why it’s so hard for you to accept that.”

He’s about to bite back by saying he can’t accept what isn’t true, but he finds himself unable to voice the words. There’s a foolish part of him that wants to believe what Rick’s telling him. Despite a rough start, he’s come to respect the man. Rick isn’t the type to tell him all of this unless it’s in good faith.

Say you do, by some stroke of luck, feel something for him. He doesn’t know the first thing about what to do in a romantic relationship. His parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example. He’s got a short temper, struggles to communicate what’s on his mind, and tends to shut people out if they get too close to comfort. Daryl knows plenty about you — your favorite color, movie, band, what your old hopes and dreams used to be, what they are now — yet he barely utters a word about himself.

Not for a lack of trying on your part. You being the freakishly perceptive woman you are, have gleaned a few things, such as his lifelong affinity for the outdoors and that he had a rough upbringing, but that’s about it. For all your impressive ability to exercise tact, he’s still snapped at you a few times. Sure, he’d immediately feel awful and try to make it up to you; that doesn’t change what he did. You don’t deserve to put up with that. Not when you could get anyone wrapped around your finger if you tried hard enough.

“Alright, alright, I’ll back off already. Doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about anything I said, though,” Rick places a hand on Daryl’s shoulder and squeezes. “Just give it some thought.”

Daryl offers a stiff nod, deciding to leave it at that.

Unbeknownst to Rick (or maybe he does know, sly bastard), Daryl doesn’t need to be told to think about you.

It’s essentially his full-time job at this point.

iii.

Daryl isn’t sure if this is a blessing or a curse.

From an objective point of view, the situation isn’t ideal, albeit falling shy of harrowing. You and Daryl are currently both situated in a closet of a pharmacy, waiting out a large gathering of walkers. Before Daryl had shut you both in here for extra safety, he surmised the miniature herd would dispense come morning, so long as they continue uselessly meandering forward. Until then, there’s nothing much to do aside from staying put and staying quiet.

He has a flashlight, but you suggested he turn it off since there’s no real need for it. He acquiesced, which leads into the present. The two of you are sitting shoulder to shoulder in the dark, your bodies still coming down from the adrenaline-induced high of fleeing from the dead.

You take a sip from your canteen and then hold it out for him. He grumbles a ‘thank you’, takes the cool container that feels heavenly against his clammy skin, and drinks far less than his body desires. It wouldn’t be wise to put a decent dent in your water supply if you’re both going to be camping out for the night. An admittedly juvenile thought occurs to him when you slide the cap back into place — how you’ve shared an indirect kiss. It hurts his pride that the concept makes him blush as if he were a starry-eyed school kid.

This isn’t helped by the fact he could taste the remnants of your favorite cherry chapstick on the bottle’s rim. You made an offhand comment about favoring the item once, and ever since then, he’s kept a sharp eye out while on runs. Putting in the extra effort was always worth it when it came to you. While he’d like to think he’s above doing things just for gratitude, you challenge the notion. When you’re grateful, you get the biggest smile on your face, the kind that highlights the apples of your cheeks. Sometimes you’ll even get so wrapped up in your enthusiasm that you’ll give him a hug (once your friendship was at a point you deemed such a display acceptable).

His traitorous mind wanders. What would it be like to taste you without a proxy? He’s studied the shape of your lips with more determination than all his years in school combined. He’s certain his imagination could never come close to capturing the bliss of the real thing, the utter softness that he’d do anything to experience for himself.

Truly, this isn’t ideal, but he’s decided to take a page from your book and be optimistic about it.

Daryl can feel your body against his. From what he can tell, there’s a touch more room to move aside if you feel so inclined; and still, you remain firmly planted by his side. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. He smells the light floral shampoo he got for you a few weeks back and the cocoa shea butter you borrow from Maggie. He gets a kick out of watching how you interact with her, and just about anyone, in fact. You jokingly refer to your close friends as your ‘underground network for trading contraband’.

He’s pretty sure you guys just trade clothes and the like, but he never has the heart to rain on your parade.

A few minutes pass, in which you’re both able to get your breaths back.

“Morning, huh?” You whisper, ever mindful of your surroundings.

Daryl keeps his volume similarly low. “Yeah. They’re all headin’ in one direction. Should be clear by then.”

You hum. While he wishes he could see your pretty face, the darkness does well to disguise his own countenance; your uncharacteristically lukewarm response has him frowning. Daryl knows you like the back of his hand, courtesy of spending the past year or so together. Something’s troubling you. It isn’t common — mainly because you try so damn hard to hide it — but he can see past your façade where others can’t. It’s times like these when he envies your ability to comfort others. You have a knack for knowing what to say, how to say it, and when to say it.

How should he help the one who is always helping others?

Daryl gets your attention by saying your name.

“You alright?”

“I’m all good here. And you?”

His frown deepens. That isn’t what he meant and he doesn’t know how to correct himself without coming off as heavy-handed. If it were anyone else, he’d give up treading this unfamiliar territory, but it’s you. The person who can make his heart race and stomach do somersaults.

“Nah, I mean…” he trails off, wincing at himself, “Are you alright?”

Great, well, that just about makes everything crystal fucking clear, doesn’t it? The ensuing silence makes him wish he’d kept his mouth shut. You’re both going to be here for at least eight hours at a minimum, the least he could do is not make the experience excruciatingly awkward. He’s not some shrink that knows how to skillfully talk about feelings, he barely knows what to do with his own. He should’ve left this to Carol or Maggie, even Rick would’ve done a better job. But no, he had to go and play the hero—

“I didn’t fail AP government.”

“Huh?” Daryl squints at you, wondering where the hell that admission came from.

“I said I did, but I didn’t,” you insist, curling both your legs up and hugging them against your chest. Daryl notices you do this when there’s something heavy weighing on you. “I got, like, a ninety-four, I think.”

He snorts, despite knowing this is a trap meant to redirect his attention. You’re good at keeping people at arm’s length when you want to. He’d be a hypocrite if he called you out on it.

“I’m sure ya did, Miss Goodie Two-Shoes.”

“It’s always ‘Miss Social Butterfly’, ‘Miss Goodie Two-Shoes’… what if I’m a Mrs?”

Daryl thinks his heart may have temporarily stopped. “Don’t see no ring.”

“It’s dark in here, Daryl.”

“Mean before this,” he rolls his eyes. He tells his stupid heart to calm down. There’s no way you’re married, you would’ve mentioned that ages ago. You’re just messing with him. You have to be. That’s your modus operandi.

He can practically hear the petulant pout in your voice when you speak next.

“Is it so hard to imagine? I’m an absolute delight.”

Damn woman, playing mind games with him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting with him. That isn’t possible, though. Absolutely not. You’re just a coy little thing. You offered to propose to Maggie yourself if Glenn kept beating around the bush (Daryl almost choked on his drink when overhearing this). Being playful with your friends is like second nature to you.

“Mhm, no doubtin’ it. When’s it gonna be your turn at the altar, then?”

“This Saturday, if the weather’s nice,” you reply without missing a beat. “You’re welcome to attend. Formal wear is required, of course. And presents. I want an espresso machine, but will settle for a Keurig.”

“Who’s the unlucky man?” Daryl asks, as if he wouldn’t trade anything under the moon and stars to be the one you promise yourself to til death do you part.

“Jesus.”

This gets a laugh from him that he has to cover with his hand. “Jesus?”

“According to Hershel, the church is Jesus’ bride, so yeah. I’m going for a literal interpretation here.”

He shakes his head. “You gotta stop attendin’ them Bible group sessions.”

“Hey, I’d like to see you turn a request from Hershel down.”

Daryl doesn’t get the opportunity to respond to this — you beat him to the punch.

“Actually, that’s just about the heart of the issue,” you mumble, the glow of your typical effulgent disposition fading. “I can’t say no to people. It’s a struggle, anyway. I’ll think of how to soften the blow and end up making concessions I never wanted to make. Hershel asked me to reconsider my ‘no thank you’ to the council thing. For some reason or another, I said I would.”

Daryl mulls over your words. There’s no lighthearted veneer to distract from the main contents, you’re baring a part of yourself to him that you normally go to lengths to conceal. It reminds him of that sweltering evening back at the farm. He was too far in his head to offer you any significant help then, a fact that’s been a perpetual thorn in his side. Almost selfishly, he wants to be the person you rely on. Your anchor when the waters get too rough. Not just for the intimate connection it’d nourish between you, but so you’ll have someone to go to when you can’t navigate matters by yourself.

He’d be that for you in a heartbeat.

Well, he’d try his best at it, at least.

“Why don’t ya wanna be part of it?” Daryl questions. It occurs to him then that you’ve never given an actual concrete reason.

“I’m not a leader,” you reply. He opens his mouth, ready to passionately disagree, but you’re faster. “I care way too much about what others think of me. It’s funny, right? Society’s fallen, there are cannibalistic corpses wandering around, and I’m still hung up over such a petty non-issue. It’s stupid.”

“… It ain’t stupid,” Daryl reassures, his voice low, emanating sincerity. He wishes he could happen upon some perfect combination of words that’d whisk your woes away, but he knows it’s more complicated than that. The way you’re talking about it tells him that this has been a grievance of yours for a long time.

He hears you exhale sharply.

“Thank you, Daryl.”

“Didn’t do nothin’,” he can’t stop the words from tumbling haphazardly from his mouth. There you’re going with that unearned expression of gratitude again. He wasn’t able to play any vital role, finding the abundance of platitudes swimming around in his head nowhere near acceptable to be spoken aloud.

You elbow his side. “Not true. I know what I said… it’s a lot to take in. There’s no cut-and-dry solution. I’m glad you didn’t try to come up with one. And that you don’t think it’s stupid. I know you wouldn’t lie to me, so… hearing you say that makes me feel better. Hence the thank you.”

Daryl has to replay your words a few times for the sheer magnitude of them to sink in. Do you really place that much value in what he says?

This grand revelation is swiftly dethroned when you rest your head on his shoulder.

His muscles go stiff at first, out of instinct, but he relaxes remarkably fast. He can feel your hair tickling his cheek, the soft warmth from your body. You want to be close to him. You actively choose to be close to him. Physically, and emotionally, you reveal segments of yourself that no one else has the luxury of witnessing. Daryl almost thinks of himself as a fool for how long it’s taken him to realize this. Merle’s mockery of his adoration for you and his own insecurities have blinded him to the truth.

His brother didn’t know the first damn thing about you.

Should this pivotal interaction be of any proof, apparently Daryl has much to learn himself.

It’s a good thing you’re his favorite subject.

iv.

Nightmares have long since crossed over into the realm of reality.

Daryl’s no stranger to the horrors that lurk in the dark and prowl in the daylight. He’d witness them before the world went to hell and after. Consequently, he could withstand a lot, witnessing scenes that’d break others without shedding a tear. It isn’t because he doesn’t feel, but because in those moments, he’s so hellbent on survival, he can block everything else out.

This isn’t one of those cases.

He can faintly register that you’re in front of him now, your glassy eyes showcasing your worry.

It’s morning. The sun is soft, the breeze softer. The terrors of the night have concluded. Men lay dead, strewn out on the road, one with a chunk taken out of his neck. It’s brutal, the stench of viscera and rot permeating in the air, even after they left the gruesome scene. It clings to his nose and refuses to leave. You’re kneeling in front of him now, murmuring words that won’t register. He hears a rip and faintly registers that you’ve torn a section of your already tattered shirt.

You raise the fabric to his bruised face, dabbing it where dry blood has gathered. In this particular instance, most of it is his.

Neither of you utters a word.

What is there to say? To do? Daryl knows he can’t remain in this stupefied state much longer, if not for his sake, then for yours.

You dab some water on your makeshift cloth. You gently follow the counters of his face, treating him as if he were made of porcelain, your eyebrows furrowing together in concentration while you work. It stings when brushing over the fresh cuts on his face, yet he doesn’t wince. He almost thinks he deserves the pain, for traveling with the bastards that did this to you. To Michonne, Rick, and Carl. When he dreamed of the slim chance of being reunited with you after the prison fell, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Never like this.

Once you’re satisfied, you pull away. You don’t stand up to leave, however. You stay right where you are, sitting on the ground, your face inches from his. Inspecting, searching. For what, he couldn’t say. He can make out each fleck of color in your eyes. They’re tired, he notices.

But they’re still you.

You raise shaking hands to cup both sides of his face. Tears gather by your lower lash line, glimmering in the morning sunlight like diamonds. Your lower lip trembles as you try to hold it in. A lump builds in his throat, the previous night serving as a reminder that he can’t always be the one to protect you, no matter how hard he tries. He wants to shield you from everything. Every hurt, disappointment, or slightest instance of pain. If he could, he’d take them all for you.

Unable to hold back a choked sob, you bury your nose into his chest. His response is immediate — he wraps his arms around your form, steadying you, bringing you closer — his actions not colored by the slightest hesitation. It’s almost an involuntary movement on his behalf. He doesn’t think, he just does. You cling to him, your hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt, clutching him like your life depended on it. Your fervor is only matched by his.

Daryl rests his chin on top of your head, running a hand up and down your back while you ride out your emotions. The world itself could crumble and fall to pieces by his side; he’d pay it no mind. Not when you’re here, in front of him, alive. Your skin is warm. Your heart beats a steady rhythm. Your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath. It’s a fight to live and you’re still in the ring, determined to trudge on.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you mumble, over and over again, chanting it as if it were a prayer. “So glad… so, so glad…”

He’s practically squeezing you by this point, but if you mind, you don’t mention it. He keeps expecting your image to fade away like a taunting mirage in the desert. To wake up in a cold sweat and with the knowledge that having you was nothing but a dream.

No such development occurs.

You’re here, he’s found you, and you’ve found him.

“Don’t go. Don’t ever leave me again,” your pleas penetrate deep into his soul where he locks them away for safekeeping.

“I won’t,” he promises. Perhaps he shouldn’t, given how uncertain he is of his ability to keep it, but he does anyway. “‘S alright, [First]. I’m here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere. It’s gonna be alright.”

He’ll fight like a man possessed to ensure it.

v.

You’re standing over a marble countertop when he finds you.

Daryl didn’t have to exert a great amount of effort to track you down, he figured you wouldn’t be going far after yesterday’s events. The past twenty-four hours have been surreal to him. The world had denied him much but offered you as recompense. This expiation almost has him wondering if everything he’d endured was worth it to get to this point.

He’s suffered for you, bled for you; now he wants to live for you.

Starting here at your quaint home in Alexandria.

It’s easy to catch you by surprise when you’re so fixated on your task; rereading piles of cards from yesterday. His Mrs. Social Butterfly is as well-loved as ever. He takes care in sneaking up on you from behind, allowing his eyes to wander over the shapely expanse of your bare legs. You’re wearing an old flannel shirt of his, the fabric enveloping you. This fulfillment of one of his many you-related fantasies frays his brain. You’re a damn dream made manifest.

His ploy is successful — you don’t sense his encroaching presence until he’s behind you, large palms settling on the lovely swell of your hips. You gasp and attempt to twist your torso around. He holds you firmly in place, not ready to give up on having you like this just yet. Recognition eases you into a sense of security. You laugh at your own expense, shaking your head and leaning back into his chest.

“I was about ready to clobber you,” you sound so carefree, so content. “Now that wouldn’t do. I can’t have you filing for divorce less than a day after our marriage.”

Daryl pays special attention to your neck, adoring it as a painter would his canvas. Fading love bites litter the skin. He retraces his marks with his lips. It appeases the primal part of him that wants nothing more than to showcase that you’re his woman, that those sorry bastards who eye you up don’t have the slimmest chance. Your heart belongs to him just as much as his belongs to you. The organ has your name embedded so deep within it, its presence is integral to keeping it beating.

“Ain’t getting rid of me that easily,” Daryl’s voice is deep and gravelly with sleep. He watches the goosebumps forming on your skin with amusement, knowing full well what his voice in the morning does to you. The ticklish sensation of his stubble rubbing against you has you unsuccessfully fighting back laughter.

“H-Hey, that should be my line. I take it you’re not fed up with me yet then?”

“Nah. Never.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

“And the day after tomorrow? Any buyer’s remorse then?”

“Difficult fuckin’ woman,” he spins you around with ease, the sight of your pretty smile making his body feel like it’s floating. He genuinely can’t fathom that you’re actually his wife. “Sounds t’ me like you’re tryna back out.”

You secure your arms around his neck, tilting your head in that playful way which nearly drives him mad. “Oh, you caught me!”

He rolls his eyes at your typical theatrics. “Ya liked me enough last night.”

“I’ve been told I’m an excellent actress.”

“Really? That’s what that was?” Daryl raises an eyebrow, challenging you. “All that moanin’ and beggin’ for me to fuck ya?”

Watching how you squirm with embarrassment at his unfiltered comments almost makes him forgive you for the infraction. Almost. His pride as a man is on the line.

“Hm… maybe we need to do it again so I can remember for certain?” You accentuate the suggestion with a wink.

You’re a little vixen alright. He can’t bring himself to complain, not when you’re looking up at him like that from beneath your eyelashes. For some reason or another, this line of thought causes a ripple effect, taking him back a ways.

“Huh. This must be what Rick meant,” he mutters, more to himself than you.

“Pardon?” You question. The sharp change in subject is unlike him, that’s more your style. Heat creeps up his face and to his ears. He can utter the most filthy talk with no inhibitions, but confessing to how long he’s been whipped for you is another beast entirely. Knowing you, you won’t let the topic go until your curiosity has been sated. For this reason, he relinquishes himself to his fate.

“A while back… I was talking about ya with Rick. At the prison. He was tryna convince me you felt the same… said ya gave me ‘the eyes’. Thought he was spoutin’ bullshit.”

You throw your head back and laugh that melodious laugh of yours, the one he swears sounds better than an angelic chorus. “Well, seeing as Rick walked me down the aisle yesterday, I guess he was onto something. Took you long enough to notice.”

He grunts in agreement. “Yeah. Sure did.”

“I thought you said the man who’d marry me would be unlucky?”

“Nah, I’d be the unlucky bastard then.”

You rise on your tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss. “So would I.”

Daryl wonders when exactly it was he fell in love with you.

Was it when he overheard you defending him to Shane back at the quarry? When you gave him that arrow that cut up your pretty hands? Or maybe when you sat in a dark closet together, opening up about your fears to him? Then there was the time he caught you singing lullabies to baby Judith, when you got drunk and passionately debated Eugene over which Star Wars movie is the best, seeing you in that indigo dress (you did indeed correct him when he called it blue) looking so fucking lovely beneath the moonlight?

Truth be told, it’s damn near impossible to narrow it down to one specific instance. You have this stupidly unfair ability to make him fall for you over and over again.

“Hey, handsome,” you coo, drawing him out of his thoughts like the Pied Piper. “You doing anything today?”

“Can’t. It’s my honeymoon. Think Rick’d throw me in that cell if I was stupid enough to leave.”

“What a coincidence, my schedule happens to be clear as well. I guess Virginia’s the new Fiji.”

Figures you’d be the type to want a honeymoon in Fiji. That’s his preppy princess alright.

Without further ado, he scoops you up, his veins thrumming with pride over how easy the task is. You happily latch onto him. You used to yelp when he picked you up, but you’re so used to it by now that you know he’d never drop you. He uses his muscle memory to traverse the house — your house — heading up the stairs and back to the bedroom.

Realizing his route, you throw in a coquettish comment. “We going back to sleep, old man? It’s a bit early in the—”

You yelp when he gives your thighs a firm squeeze, effectively shutting you up.

“Mouthy woman. Nah, we ain’t sleepin’ anytime soon. Not ‘til I get you makin’ them noises again. ‘Actress’ my ass.”

That earns him another bout of laughter from you, which in turn makes him grin. You’re a delight, an addiction he won’t ever quit; his best friend and wife.

And if those eyes you’re giving him are to be believed, he knows you view him the same way.

[walker-bait-1973]

8 Years Part One

Photo Edit by Me

A Daryl Dixon/ Sybil Tremont Fanfiction (Daryl x OC)

Background information: It’s assumed the reader knows the world of TWD. This Fanfic takes place after Alexandria, Hilltop, Oceanside, and the Kingdom are established and at the height of success. Carl is dead. The communities are bound by a doctrine created by Michonne. Rick is presumed dead. Daryl and Michonne never lost hope and searched for several years for Rick without luck. Daryl had a short relationship with Leah. The Saviors disbanded with Negan in a jail cell in Alexandria. The Whisperers have been defeated, and Lydia is a valued member of the Hilltop homestead.

18+

Daryl x OC (Female)

Warnings: Violence, Alcohol, Slow Burn, Fluff, Smut

Part Two

Master List

Chapter 1: Caramel

The summer of 1990 was a record-breaker for heat. The sun shone brighter than ever by early June. While people around Atlanta were finding ways to keep cool, Merle Dixon along with his younger brother Daryl, and their motorcycle gang pulled into the local 7-11 to get some ice-cold brews. They were headed to Pine Lake for a party. Merle and two of his buddies went inside for drinks.

“Hey Merle, get some snacks too!” Daryl yelled after him. Merle shot him the middle finger, laughed, and went inside. Daryl lit up a cigarette. As he listened to the group talking and laughing, a small group of young ladies walked past them. Daryl’s attention averted to have a gander at these five women. One, in particular, stood out to him. She was a curvaceous woman, with an ample chest, wide hips, and thick thighs. Her long ebony curls bounced in a neat ponytail as she walked in flip-flops with painted red toenails. She was wearing a pair of cut-off blue jean shorts that hugged her apple-shaped bottom. Her skin was a delicious shade of caramel, tanned from the hot sun no doubt. Her red halter top complimented the shade well. As she passed him he said, “Hot day.”

She nodded curtly, eyeing the pale-skinned man in the grey tank top as her friends giggled and they went into the store. She stopped for a moment to look over her shoulder at him, “You better watch yourself, you’re gonna get burned.”

He smiled slyly and playfully smacked Terry in the chest as the automatic door swung shut, “damn!”

“She’s outta your league, Daryl.” Terry chuckled as Daryl rubbed his dirty blonde goatee. He was already plotting what to do next.

“Naw… she ain’t.” He took a breath before heading into the convenience store himself. Terry looked at Buck and sniggered.

Inside, Daryl could hear Merle’s loud voice back by the beer cooler laughing with Sam and Joe. He casually walked down one aisle with low shelves, spying on the girls over by the Slurpee machine comparing flavors. He paused by the snacks and perused the various chips, raising his eyes often to watch the girls as they laughed and poured themselves the thick icy beverage. He glanced back praying his brother wouldn’t come up while he made his move. He walked to the girls and said, “Hey, ‘s y’ flavor?”

“Caramel” sucked slowly on her straw before saying, “Cherry.” A pair of large green eyes framed with long lashes lifted to look at him. He felt his insides turn to mush, as a boyish grin crossed his face.

He followed her outside and as she started walking away with her friends he called out, “’s yer name?”

Looking over her rounded shoulder, “Sybil.”

From that moment on, he was hooked.

Chapter 2: The Receipt

Alexandria

Daryl rolled over, restless in his bed. He heard footsteps thudding on the basement ceiling. Judith and RJ must be over for breakfast. He sat up, Dog instantly licking his face.

“Down, boy…” he grunted. Dog jumped to the floor and waited patiently by the back door for his morning walk. Daryl shirked into some clothes, donned his boots, and opened the door. Dog ran out into the dew-covered grass behind the house to do his duties. Daryl whistled,  beckoning for Dog to join him as he walked down the road toward the Alexandria main gate.

Rosita and Aaron were up on the platform, keeping watch for possible trouble.

“Good Morning, Daryl!” Aaron called out. Daryl waved quietly and moved along, toward the community center where many of the residents chose to eat together. He walked in, nabbed a fresh loaf of bread, and returned to Carol’s house.

“Good morning Uncle Daryl!” Judith exclaimed running to him as soon as he closed the door.

“Mornin’ Jude,” he answered as she hugged him around the waist. He put his arms around her shoulders and hugged her in return. RJ joined them and gave Daryl a high five.

“Come on, Judith… RJ… let’s get you fed before classes.”

“Y’ heard Aunt Carol… c’mon and get to the table.” Daryl grabbed a knife and started cutting up the bread for toast. Carol served the kids fresh scrambled eggs, apple slices, and orange juice. They munched on the yummy food while Carol poured Daryl his first cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter sipping it, his mind wandering.

He went weeks before he saw Sybil again. This time, she was at a grocery store as a cashier. What luck Daryl had! He spotted her immediately as he carried the armloads of food to the register. He decided to go through her line, affording him a great opportunity to talk to her again.

“Have a nice day,” she was saying as she handed the receipt over to the customer in front of him.

He scratched the back of his neck as she started cashing him out, “find everything you were looking for?” She lifted her eyes, a smile on her face, dimples adorning her cheeks.

“Naw…”

“No? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Sure. Y’all could give me y’ number.”

She chuckled, “You’re mighty confident.”

“’ Member me?”

“Not sure that I do,” she replied, toying with him. There was no way Sybil could forget those deep-set blue eyes and that handsome face.

“I can make it so y’ never f’get me again.” He leaned on the conveyor belt, stopping it.

“Oh yeah?”

There was a line forming behind him.

“You’re right I’ll never forget you if you get me fired,” she feigned being cross.

“Give me y’ number an’ I’ll pay m’ total.”

“I don’t even know your name,” she said, “that will be twenty-eighty-seven.”

He pulled out thirty bucks. When she returned his change, she handed him his receipt.

“Daryl. M’ name’s Daryl.”

She smirked, “have a nice day, Daryl.”

He grabbed his bag, frowning. As he put his change in his pocket, he realized she’d written a phone number on the back of the receipt.

She winked at him and started on her next customer’s order.

“… Daryl?”

Daryl looked up from his mug at Carol, “Huh?”

“I asked what your plans were for today. Where were you just now?”

He shook his head, “Nowhere. ‘M thinkin’ of takin’ a ride t’ Hilltop.”

“Yeah? If so, could you take a few things for me? I made Maggie some curtains for Hershel’s room in the Barrington House, and there are some parts that Eugene needs for the radio.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, get t’ stuff t’gether n’ I’ll take it w’ me.”

He took a plate of eggs and set it on the floor for Dog.  Dog chowed down while Daryl munched on a piece of toast.

“Alright, go get washed up and Uncle Daryl will walk you to school on his way out.”

“Okay,” Judith looked at her younger brother, “get your stuff.”

Once Daryl delivered the kids to class, he and Dog ambled to the gate where Carol was waiting for him. He shouldered his pack and strapped the box of things to take down on his motorcycle. Carol squeezed his shoulder, “You have a safe trip, okay? Tell everyone I say hello. Oh, and I nearly forgot. Judith wrote Hershel a letter.” She slipped it into his hand. Daryl smiled.

“I’ll make sure he gets it.”

Chapter 3: Lending A Hand

Hilltop

Daryl sped into Hilltop, Dog in tow, and parked close to the barn. He got several waves from various community members and was warmly greeted by Maggie. She wrapped her arms around him for a big hug, “Been a long time, stranger,” she remarked, squeezed his shoulder, and knelt to pet Dog.

“Too long,” Daryl confessed, nodding in acknowledgment toward Jesus and Tara.

“Damn right it’s been too long,” Tara piped up, “tell us, what’s everyone been up to?”

“Y’ know,” he shrugged, “same old. Ain’t much t’ tell.” He patted his jacket pocket, “Got somethin’ f’ Hershel though.” He pulled out the envelope and handed it to Maggie.

“A letter from Judith?” She ran her fingers over the front of the makeshift envelope.

“Mhm. Seems they’re becomin’ pretty good pen pals,” He smiled.

“They are. It won’t be long, they’ll be on the radio talkin’. I think Hershel has a lil’ crush,” Maggie’s toothy grin spread.

Daryl grunted, “I got stuff f’ Eugene too.”

“He’s up in the attic monkeying with things, I’ll run it up to him,” Jesus said knowing full well how Eugene liked to talk people’s ears off, and Daryl was more of a quiet man.

“Thanks f’ that,” Daryl remarked looking around, “Where’s Connie?”

“She’s at Oceanside with Kelly and Luke. I know you’re disappointed,” Maggie teased.

“I’ll catch her soon ‘nough.” He shrugged, “’m here now. What can I do t’ help out?”

“We have a few cabins to build. Wanna help with that?”

“Sure,” he nodded, walking with Maggie to the area of expansion past the orchards. He was greeted by Alden, one of the blacksmiths, who was delivering a box of nails.

“Daryl, good to have you here,” Alden smiled, handing him a hammer.

“Jus’ tell me where t’ go.”

He pointed to one of the cabins already in progress. Daryl joined in immediately. As he worked with the others, it wasn’t long before he was sawing logs, roofing, and throwing himself into the job at hand. Daryl didn’t mind hard work. When the frame of the cabin was finished, he felt a sense of accomplishment and moved onto the exterior walls.

When he paused to take a cigarette break, he spotted Lydia making her way over to him. She had a wide smile on her face, her long black hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. Elijah was holding her hand, the same goofy smile on his face. Daryl smirked. Young’uns.

“We brought you some water. You’ve been working hard,” Lydia handed him a canteen.

“Thanks,” he said, swishing the cold liquid in his mouth. Felt cool and refreshing on this warm Spring day.

“We were going to head to Alexandria for a visit, but now seeing as you’re here, we won’t leave until you do. If you don’t mind.”

“Naw could use the company,” he answered, patting her shoulder.

“Great! I miss everyone. And I wanted to see Negan.”

Frowning, “What y’ need t’ see him for? He ain’t no good, Lydia.”

“I know his past, and I know how you feel about him-”

“You don’t know all ‘bout that sumbitch.” Daryl never talked with anyone in his family about what transpired when he was held prisoner at Negan’s compound, Sanctuary. Tortured, starved, stripped down for humiliation…

“I suppose I don’t. But he stuck up for me when those kids attacked me. If it weren’t for him, I might not be here. I don’t need you to understand it, but I won’t sneak around to talk to him.”

Daryl had to give her credit for being so upfront about her connection with Negan. It was true that he helped her one night when three members of Alexandria ganged up on her. It was also true that one ended up dead at Negan’s hand. It was an accident, but with Negan’s history, it nearly got him lynched.

“I don’t understand it, an’ I don’t like it. But I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

That’s one thing Lydia admired about Daryl – he didn’t treat her like a little girl. He talked to her as if she was an adult, and she respected that. Too many people tried to treat her like a child. She was seventeen, and beyond her years in many ways.

Daryl tossed her back the canteen, “Back t’ work. Y’ know, y’all could help out. Get done a lot faster.”

“I can swing a hammer,” Elijah smirked, “I’m gonna help out.”

“I’ve got some other things to do, but then I’ll be back over.” Lydia kissed Elijah before leaving. Elijah blushed and cleared his throat.

“C’mon,” Daryl spoke up, “ ‘s getcha that hammer.”

Chapter 4: First Date

(One Week Later) Daryl drove up to the house where Sybil lived. Already outside, she’d been waiting for him. She laughed when he turned off his motorcycle.

“I just knew you were going to show up on that thing.”

Daryl looked down at the bike, “’s my ride.”

She nodded, “Oh yeah… it’s your ride alright. I’ve never been on one before.”

“Well, y’all will have the time o’ yer life then.” He smiled. She walked over in a pair of tight-fitted jeans, her hips swaying practically mesmerizing him.

“Interesting way to start a first date,” She commented, sliding on behind him. Her hands went to his waist, clutching tight as he kicked the motor on and took off down the street.

“Shouldn’t we have helmets?” She called into the wind. Daryl swung the bike onto the main road.

“Naw… yer fine.”

She laughed, “As I said before, you’re mighty confident.”

Daryl enjoyed the feeling of her behind him, her hands tightening their grip. He lowered his left hand and pulled one of her arms around him tighter.

“You’re bold,” she remarked, but slid her other arm around, locking her hands in front of his stomach.

“So are ya.”

They drove along Pine Lake, one of the first places he could think of to take her. When they got off the bike she said, “You’ve got me alone, in the woods. Should I be afraid?”

“I didn’t keep y’ alive on that bike only t’ kill ya in the woods,” He smirked. She laughed. It was music to his ears; so light and genuine.

“Been t’ Pine Lake ‘fore?”

“Oh yes. This is the main hang-out spot. You?”

“Come here a bit.”

They walked a trail along the east side of the lake, quiet at first.

“So that gang you’re with…” she finally cut the silence as she studied the trees, “been with them long?”

Daryl shrugged, “yeah. They’re kinda family. My big brother Merle started hangin’ out w’ some guys an’ it went from there.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Just one,” he teased.

“Ha ha,” she rolled her eyes.

“’ Bout twenty or so. Why?”

She shrugged, “Just curious.”

She pulled a leaf off a branch and twirled it between her fingers.

“Y’ thinkin’ ‘m gonna be trouble?”

“I don’t know… are you?”

“Maybe,” he stopped walking and pointed, “look,” he whispered, “a doe.”

She squinted, “Where?”

He extended his arm with his fingertip pointing, “Between them two birch trees. See her?”

After a few moments, Sybil smiled brightly, “I do. She’s beautiful. You have a keen eye.”

Daryl shrugged, “maybe.”

“Do you spend a lot of time in the woods?”

“Quite a bit. How ‘bout ya?”

“I love nature, but no… I haven’t been camping since I was a kid.”

“Yer missin’ out.”

“I suppose I am.”

“C’mon, I wanna show y’ somethin’.”

“Okay.”

They continued casually down the trail until he veered off it, onto an unbeaten path.

“Okay, now I know you’re going to kill me,” she teased.

“C’mon,” he rolled his eyes. They came to some tall rocks, “Up f’ a lil’ climbin’?”

Hands on hips she looked up at the rocks, “Should I have worn hiking boots?”

“Naw… them shoes are fine.”

She looked down at her vans and was thankful she’d chosen them.

“Alright. Let’s go. Show me the way.”

“It ain’t gonna be as hard as it looks. Found an easy way to get up there.” He motioned for her to follow. He went around the right-hand side of the stone goliaths.

“See here,” he pointed in front of him and upward, “almost like someone made a trail in them rocks.”

“They look like they have stepping stones cut into them.”

He started up the incline, turning around every so often to make sure she was still behind him. She was eagerly bringing up the rear, keeping close.

“’s is the hard part,” he said, reaching for her hand, “lemme help y’ up the rest o’ the way.”

She took his hand and he pulled just enough to get her over the final ledge. She took a breath and looked down behind her whistling, “We are up high.”

He nodded, “Higher than it looks from down there.”

She noticed a singed area and a pile of wood.

“You come here often?”

He nodded, “’s m’ place t’ getaway. C’mere… an’ look.”

She joined him on the opposite side of the rocks and looked out. What a sight to behold. She could see the large lake in its entirety from this vantage point, and the multitude of trees on the other side. The sun was bright in the sky. She felt as if she could reach out and touch it. The rays warmed her face. She turned to look at Daryl. His blue eyes were studying her, gauging her reaction. The humongous smile on her face was enough for him. He was convinced that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

Daryl rolled to his side and stared into the darkness inside the hay mound sighing. He didn’t sleep much, to begin with. And even less since the world fell. Thinking of her made it near impossible. He sat up while Dog rustled through the hay to rest his head in Daryl’s lap. He brusquely pet the dog's head. Dog whined. He’d been with Daryl so long that he could read his emotions.

“S’ alright, boy. ‘ll get through it. Always do.” He got to his feet, stretched, and said, “C’mon. ‘S go f’ a walk.” Daryl and Dog made their rounds, checking the sentinels on the wall, joining them for a bit to watch for walkers or marauders.

“You’re up early,” Cal commented, shaking out his foot that fell asleep.

Daryl shrugged, “Always am. Don’t need much sleep.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dixon,” Cal continued.

Diane looked over at the two men, “Be thankful Daryl doesn’t sleep much. He’s saved a lot of our asses more than once because of it.”

Cal knew it was true and agreed, “Oh I know he has. It’s just when I manage to have some time to rest, I conk out. Sometimes for half a day.”

People meandered about as the sun rose, and Daryl found himself back to work at the cabins.

“You know, there’s always one of those here for you,” Jesus said, holding up a board to be nailed.

Daryl said, “Hate t’ take a place from someone else. I don’t mind the hay mound or a tent. ‘M easy.”

“So have you completely set down roots in Alexandria?”

Daryl shrugged, “Dunno if I set roots down anywhere.” The truth was the man had huge bouts of wanderlust and couldn’t sit still for too long before needing to be out in the wild again. He went with Aaron sometimes to look for more people to bring back to the communities. He brought messages from one community to the next. He also liked to provide food, go on scavenging runs; anything to keep himself busy.

People that knew him knew he was this way. They noticed a big change when Rick infamously blew up the bridge that was to connect everyone to save his people. 

Daryl disappeared for three years. During his search for Rick, he met a woman by the name of Leah. No one knew about the affair he’d had with her except Carol. Dog had discovered an old house that seemed abandoned one day during their travels. But it wasn’t empty. That’s when he found an ornery woman living there that didn’t want him anywhere around her land. After about a year they began to talk, her more than him, and in a few more months they shared food. After that Daryl realized how lonely he was; one thing led to another and the two became involved. It didn’t last long. Daryl pulled away for several reasons: he wanted to continue looking for Rick, and he couldn’t allow himself to feel what he once felt for Sybil. When he was with Leah, she knew he was far away in his mind: thinking about his brother, and she had no idea what else. He couldn’t open up to her. That took years and trust. Something he knew he could never have with her. She put conditions on him and gave him ultimatums.

“It’s your brother or me.”

“It’s your family or me.” He was not a man who responded well to conditions. He wasn’t about to choose a woman that wanted all or nothing. So he walked away, never looking back.

Chapter 5: The Race

After two weeks of working on cabins, several were finished thanks to the hard labor everyone put in. Daryl wanted to reward them all with some venison, so he decided he’d head out before the light of day to hunt.

Dog stayed in step with Daryl as they silently made their way through the forest. He’d seen deer droppings which decided the direction they would go. Tell-tale signs of a foraging deer were seen everywhere if you were observant enough. Daryl was a master of tracking. He held his breath as soon as he saw the three-point, lifted his crossbow, aimed, and fired. The arrow hit its mark between the front shoulder and the ribcage, piercing the heart. The deer dropped where it stood, feeling no pain. Just the way Daryl liked it. No suffering.

He set to work right away field dressing the internal organs before he heard the groans of Walkers coming from the left.

“Shit,” he muttered, hefting the deer over his shoulders, “c’mon Dog,” he called, quickly making his exit. The organs would keep the few Walkers busy. At least enough for him to get safely away.

He returned at dusk with his prize, congratulated by many, and thanked personally by Maggie.

“Can’t have them people be veg’tarians,” Daryl teased, taking it to hang out back.

“Oh no, too many vegetables will make the people weak,” Maggie teased. Daryl eyed her between his curtains of bangs, a smirk on his face.

“They’ll appreciate it to be sure. We can do a lot with poultry and beef…”

“But there ain’t nothin’ like venison,” he cut in.

She nodded, “Right.”

They heard kids laughing and spotted Hershel and the other kids playing with Dog. Dog of course loved all the attention.

“Seems good to have them bein’ kids, huh?” Maggie asked, sighing. She had to dig deep to remember the days of misspent youth and no fear. Riding horses with her sister Beth, playing in the fields, and nights catching fireflies.

Daryl nodded as he shoved his bloodied hands into a basin of water, “Mhm… they ain’t had it so good, growin’ up too fast ‘cause t’ way t’ world turned out.” He dried his clean hands on a rag and watched the kids for a bit, a small smile on his face.

“Can’t catch me dog,” Marigold yelled out, her laugh echoing through the trees.

(August) ”You’ll never catch me, Daryl!” Sybil yelled, swimming faster out towards the floating dock in the middle of the lake. Daryl however was an experienced swimmer and was soon closing in on her. The thrill of the chase caused Sybil to start laughing and slowed her down in speed. Daryl slowed his pace, waiting for her to gain her wits and start moving faster again. Soon her hands were touching the dock.

“Damn, y’ got away,” he said, holding the edge of the dock with his hands. She splashed him playfully.

“I know you let me win.”

“Did no such thing.”

She giggled, “Okay… deny it all you want.” She caressed his damp cheek, “I’ll still give you your reward,” she moved closer and kissed his wet lips before pulling up onto the dock. Daryl could feel his stomach flip flop and his heart quicken in reaction to her affection. It was their first kiss. His cheeks reddened and he pulled up onto the dock next to her, their feet dangling in the water. He’d been pursuing her avidly for several months. His first thoughts of just wanting to bed the woman passed once he realized there was so much more to her than just a beautiful body. She had spunk, a clever mind, and kept him on his toes. He’d never met anyone like her before. Sybil seemed to enjoy her time with him, and this kiss just solidified what he was hoping for. He knew that other guys were trying to get her attention, he wasn’t blind. But the more she accepted offers of dates from him, the less concerned he became with them.

She laid back on the dock, the sun’s rays kissing her wet skin. Her hair spread out above her head like a dark halo. Her red one-piece showed plenty but left just the right amount covered to let the imagination run wild.

Daryl chewed his lip for a moment, “Sybil…”

“Mhm?” She hummed, shielding her eyes from the bright sky as she looked his way.

“’S a band playin’ at a bar next weekend. A local band… thought maybe y’all would like t’ go.”

“What kind of music?” she asked him curiously.

“Heavy stuff. Ain’t no room for country shit.”

She grinned, “You’ve got yourself a plus one then. I think it would be a lot of fun.” The idea of being squished in close to her was on his mind. He was still a man after all.

“Rememberin’ the good old days?” Maggie asked. Daryl stopped chewing his lip.

“Gonna go find somethin’ t’ do.”

Chapter 6: Scavenging Parts

“Hey, Daryl…” Jesus caught up with the archer after morning chores, “Eugene needs some parts for the solar panel he’s been working on and gave me directions to a place he thinks I can find those parts. Wanna ride with me, help me out?”

Daryl nodded as he finished brushing a horse down, “be ready in a few. Lemme finish up here.”

Jesus drove fast down the road. Daryl stared at the directions, “A bullfrog’s hop t’ the right of a… what t’ hell is this?” He asked, scratching his head.

Jesus laughed, “It’s directions. Eugene wrote them.”

“F’ fuck’s sake. Two leagues past the old maple tree… ‘s a million maple trees out here!” He threw the instructions on the dashboard. Jesus smirked, “Don’t kill me. I wrote those just to tease you.”

“You bastard,” Daryl huffed, but smiled in the end, “figures. Where’s them directions at?”

Jesus pulled a paper out of his front pocket, “Here.”

Daryl read them quickly, “’s more like it.”

When they rolled up to the old rusty warehouse, Jesus cut the engine and looked over the list Eugene had given him. Daryl got out and started scouting for Walkers, and anyone else who happened along the way. He and Jesus cleared out a small group of the dead before breaking the chain lock on the door to head inside. Pigeons flew in the disturbed air kicking up dust and dirt. The men covered their mouths, Daryl quickly pulling his rag from his back pocket. He tied it over the bottom half of his mouth.  Both were silent as the grave as they passed through the large building in search of any trespassers alive, or undead. Once they were certain it was empty, they set out to find each of the things Eugene wanted. It took longer than they expected since neither knew where to start. Searching boxes, and reading labels… they’d found two of the five things before dark.

“Looks like we’ll be staying the night,” Jesus huffed, wiping the dust from his hands onto his pants.

“Mhm,” Daryl lowered his backpack and brought out some salted dried venison, doling out some pieces to Jesus.

“Thanks,” Jesus said as they sat on the cold cement floor.

 As they settled in for the night, Daryl volunteered to keep a watch out.

“T’morrow we hit them boxes upstairs. Can’t see shit now.”

“Agreed. I didn’t think this would be a two-day trip. I’ll just catch a few winks.”

(1 Year Later) “Sybil, get on over here, woman!” Daryl had called out over the heavy strains of guitar on the jukebox to his girl.

Sybil’s green eyes danced with merriment as she set her beer on the bar and made her way over to the young man who beckoned her. She laughed as he snaked his arms around her waist.

His nose brushed against her ear as he said, “Dance w’ me.” As if she was ever interested in dancing with someone else. She slid her palms flat against his chest as they moved to their own beat. It certainly didn’t match the fast drum solo in the Motorhead song. But finding their way to sway their bodies together had never been a problem. They began to sweat there under the hot lights, their friends milling around them. Some were dancing, others playing pool, and still, some just drinking and sharing conversation.

Daryl’s brother Merle was leaning on his old lady, licking salt from her neck as he downed another shot of tequila. He followed up with a lemon wedge from her cleavage as his loyal gang cheered him on.

“ ‘s get outta here,” Daryl said into Sybil’s ear, “ ‘s gonna get crazy t’night.”

“It’s well on its way,” she said, gripping his hand. They made a quick exit and soon were taking off on his bike. The wind whipped through Sybil’s untethered hair. The exhilaration from the cool air and the feel of her cheek against his back were enough to make Daryl giddy. He pulled up to her apartment and as he walked her to the door she stopped, key in her hand.

“We’ve been seeing each other for a while now,” she spoke up, her eyes staring into his, “and you’ve been good to me, Daryl. Come inside. I want you to stay the night.”

His jaw twitched. He’d been excited for this moment, he wouldn’t deny it. But now that it was here, he felt a sense of pride. He’d spent his time getting to know her. There was still so much to learn. And tonight would be another lesson in the ways of Sybil.

There was no small talk as her roommates were already in their respective rooms sleeping. He hadn’t been in the apartment at night unless there was a crowd of sorority sisters having a party. He and Sybil preferred being out of the house and hanging out with his gang often. She closed her room door there in the dark and turned on a dim lamp next to the bed.

She smiled at him, walking close, her hands caressing either side of his face as they began to kiss passionately. His palms rested on the flat of her back, rubbing slowly up and down as their mouths opened to explore like so many times before. It was more intense though, with pure need behind each tongue lashing and twisting together. A small groan lifted from his throat as she stepped back from him. They stared at one another, the soft glow from the light accentuating her features. The shadows delved into her curves and along the line of her legs.

“Help me out of this skirt, will you, Daryl?”

Daryl heard a noise that caught his attention. He went to investigate but seeing that it was a raccoon he shooed it away before walking the interior of the building alone. He placed a cigarette to his dry lips and lit it. Staring out one of the wide warehouse windows, he saw a few Walkers milling about near the truck. He puffed out some smoke and moved on toward the opposite end.

Sybil was more amazing than he could’ve imagined. Her body was perfection to him, and as she lifted on top of him, her hair swung down her back. He tangled his fingers into it before rubbing down around her ass while she ground her hips on top of him. He breathed as if through honey, labored, and sweet. As she rubbed his chest, a little pout curled on her lips as she neared the height of pleasure, calling out to him. He rolled her to her back, taking her breath away as he kept the rhythm up, bringing her to orgasm. He came in sync with her. He looked down at Sybil, the sweat beading on her forehead, their wet bodies sticking together, and he felt something he’d never felt before – fulfilled.

“Kiss me…” she gasped, still feeling the aftershocks of their lovemaking.

“Ain’t gotta ask, Syb…” He lowered his mouth onto hers, sucking her lips slowly, delightfully before withdrawing. He lay back, his chest still heaving as she lay her cheek upon it, listening to his fast heartbeat. He opened his legs, and she nestled her lower half between them, her stomach resting on his groin, not uncomfortable. He rubbed her saturated back, fingers slipping in the sweat, her hair pasted to her shoulders and his chest. Their bodies fit together like an intimate puzzle. Their hands locked together, fingers woven tight, his free hand cradling her. It was at that moment he knew his heart belonged to her.

When the first hint of light came through the windows, Jesus was up. He and Daryl searched the remainder of the building and found the rest of the items for Eugene by midday.

When they got outside, the Walkers from last night were still wandering around the truck, and seeing the two men, started lurching towards them.

“Dammit,” Jesus uttered while Daryl shot the closest in the head and then pulled his knives. Jesus round-housed one right in the skull, its rotted head exploding from the connection. Daryl took out two, a stab to the front of each temple, and Jesus took down the last one.

“ ‘ll drive,” Daryl said once everything was packed into the back of the pickup. Jesus tossed the keys to him. On the drive to Hilltop, Daryl was reliving those moments with Sybil still. Waking up with his legs wrapped around hers, her body still on his. He could almost feel her warmth, smell her perfume. He swerved almost hitting a Walker in the road. Jesus looked over at him, “Are you sure you’re up for driving?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” He sped up to get past the gathering herd quickly leaving them in the dust.

Eugene was pleased as he met the men getting out of the pickup.

“Did y’all find everything?” he asked as he pulled back the tarp over the parts. He went over the list and marked each item off, “Well done, you guys. I know these doodads don’t look like much, but when I get ‘em all put together, we’ll have some fine additions to those cabins y’all been working so hard on. Electricity! Creature comforts.”

“Glad we could help,” Jesus said as he and Daryl unloaded.

“Did you meet up with any trouble?” Maggie asked as she picked up a small box from the back.

“Naw,” Daryl responded.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Jesus added.

( 1 Month Later) Carver College

Daryl spotted Sybil and her friends in the throes of students in the cafeteria. She’d been pouring over textbooks for a test coming up in English Lit class. He breathed hot air on the back of her neck, “Hey babe.”

She smiled as she whispered, “Daryl…”

Mandy sniggered, “You two are something else.”

Daryl kissed Sybil lightly and slid into the chair next to her.

“Where have you been?” She asked in a hushed tone. She hadn’t seen him in four days. No explanations, no phone calls, “I was worried about you. I thought something might have happened to you!”

“Naw, no need t’ worry. ‘M here now.” He rubbed her hand slowly.

She picked up her books and excused herself from her circle of friends. Daryl grabbed them to carry for her. Once they were outside she turned to him, “Where have you been?” She asked him again, “You just disappeared.”

“I had t’ go outta town w’ Merle.”

“To do what?” She asked curiously.

He shrugged, “Just some odd errands, ain’t no big deal.”

“Daryl, it’s a big deal when you’re dating someone, and you just disappear. What if something happened to you?”

“Syb… don’t need t’ keep tabs on me. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen t’ me.”

She frowned, “I’m not keeping tabs. Why are you keeping secrets?”

Chapter 7: Unavailable

The deer was finally ready to process. Many offered to help him, but he kindly rejected those offers. He wanted to work alone and get things off his mind. His memories were flooding in and he couldn’t build the dam fast enough to keep them at bay. It was close to the time of year when he first met Sybil. Even though people referred to parts of the year by the period of Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, Daryl knew it was around June. He felt it in his heart, and thoughts of Sybil were at their pinnacle. He sharpened his knife on a whetstone til the blade could slice easily through the meat, and as he removed the hide, he halted suddenly.

(6 Months Later) Sybil looked up from the bed, “Where are you going, hot stuff?”

He zipped his jeans, “gotta go outta town f’ a few days.”

She sat up, slipping on one of his t-shirts, “where? You never say.”

“Nothin’ y’ need t’ worry y’self over, Syb.” He rubbed her shoulders slowly, “Y’ won’t even have time t’ miss me.” He kissed her lips.

“Your brother is a troublemaker. Why do I have the feeling you two get up to no good when you’re gone?”

He shook out his head and started working the hide again, bound to have the hide salted and stretched before dinner. His workworn hands rubbed the salt into the thin layer of skin remaining, and as he was stretching it, he could smell dinner. His stomach rumbled.  He covered the meat with an old tarp and went to join the others.

That night he sat by the campfire longer than most. The dog was sleeping by his foot, basking in the heat from the flames.

(One Year Later)  Daryl knew it was late. It was nearly one. He’d been out fucking around with his gang, causing a ruckus, getting into a fight with another gang, and then Merle suggested they all go out for drinks. Daryl had a few and lost track of time.

“Shit, I gotta go!” He told his brother.

“What? Why?”

“’S Sybil’s birthday. ‘M late.”

“You’re so whipped. Hell, she’ll have another one next year.”

“That ain’t the point!” He said goodbye to his friends and rushed out to his bike. When he got to Sybil’s apartment, he could see the windows were dark. He pulled the present he had messily wrapped out of his saddle bag and went up to the second floor. He knocked on the door, and Theresa answered.

“What are you doing here, Daryl? Don’t you know how to tell time?”

“Jus’ wanna see Syb… don’t need y’all givin’ m’ a hard time. Lemme in.”

“Why don’t you just go and try to make amends tomorrow? You’re on her shit list you know.”

“Who’s at the door?” Sybil called out behind her. Daryl looked over Theresa’s shoulder and saw Sybil tying up her silky robe.

“Syb… ‘s me. I wanna come in.”

“I’ve got this Theresa…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you go on back to bed.”

Daryl ducked his head in shame, “Happy Birthday.” He held out the gift. Sybil’s hands were on her hips.

“Kind of late for that. My birthday was yesterday. It’s nearly two. What happened?”

“Got caught up w’ the boys. I lost track o’ time s’ all.”

“Oh, that’s all huh? My birthday didn’t matter much to you then, did it?”

“That ain’t true.”

“Sure it is. If you cared, you’d have been on time. You get with those guys and forget everything.” She pulled him into the room, and looked at him in the light, “And what the hell happened to your chin?”

Daryl instinctively touched his jaw. He must’ve gotten a bruise from the fight.

“You’ve been fighting again?”

“Weren’t much o’ a fight,” he half–laughed, “We got ‘em good.”

She stared at him angrily, “I can’t believe you’re missing the point here.” She wiped tears from her eyes, “I don’t think this is going to work out.”

“What? Y’ breakin’ up w’ me?!”

“Yes, I am.”

“Because m’ late f’ y’ birthday?”

“You just don’t get it. You didn’t show up. You didn’t call. And when you finally do show up you don’t feel one inch of remorse for it all.”

“Said I was sorry, Syb. Don’t be like that.”

“No, you didn’t apologize. You bragged about a fight. I don’t want to be a part of this. I expect more from the man I care about.”

He wiped his eyes, blaming the smoke from the fire, and decided it was time to head back to Alexandria. He’d leave as soon as he finished preparing the meat for Hilltop.

Chapter 8: Camping

Daryl waited a couple weeks for Sybil to cool off after their split.

“You’re better off without her baby brother. Now you ain’t tied down to one woman, you can date any y’all want.”

“Don’t wanna date anyone else. I want Sybil,” he muttered, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. He turned over the engine on his bike, bringing it back to life after its tune-up.

“Well she don’t want nothin’ to do with your sorry ass. She thinks she’s too good for ya! There’s plenty of other bitches that are interested in ya.”

“She ain’t a bitch, Merle. She’s different than them other girls.”

“Ooh, are you in love, pussy?”

“Why am I tellin’ y’ anythin’?” He put his tools away, and said, “Goin’ out f’ a bit.”

“Go on then, run back to that highfalutin’ uptown bitch. She must have some sugar ‘tween her legs to keep ya comin’ back to her.”

He showed up at Save A Lot where Sybil worked. She wasn’t at the cash register, but he found her stocking shelves as he searched the aisles.

“Hey Syb…” he said as he approached. She stopped marking canned goods with the pricing gun and looked in his direction.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came t’ apologize. M’ sorry I was such a dick.”

“Are you? Because I have the feeling that the sort of thing that got you in trouble with me in the first place is going to keep happening.”

“Naw… it ain’t. What can I do t’ make y’ change y’ mind?”

She huffed, “You need to stop fighting. I knew full well you were in a gang when I met you. But I don’t think I realized what that entailed.”

He reached out and touched one of her curls, wrapping it around his finger, “I can stop fightin’.”

“Yeah, right,” She rolled her eyes.

“I can,” he insisted.

“Prove it.”

“I will. Supposed t’ be a lil’ somethin’ on Friday. ‘ll come an’ see y’all instead. Maybe I can help you study…” he leaned his arm against the shelf, keeping close to her, “what d’ ya say?”

“Give me a week to think things over. Stay out of trouble until then. I refuse to have a boyfriend that will probably end up in jail. You’re better than that.”

He screeched to a halt on his bike. Right in the middle of the road. 

“Can’t go back to Alexandria.” He felt a tightness in his chest, “Just can’t. C’mon.” He veered off the road and pushed his bike into some bramble to hide it.

He and Dog made their way deep into the forest around them. He knew the area well. He retreated towards a long winding river that cut through a clearing and set up a little lean-to between two trees and dug out a hole for a campfire. He set up a perimeter and fashioned a spear from a sturdy branch to go fishing. He and Dog ate a fine catch of fish for dinner.

He lay back against a log and stared up through the tree branches as the stars peeked into the holes between the leaves.

Three months later, they were back together. It took him that long to convince Sybil that he was staying out of trouble. He hung with the gang but skipped out when any brouhahas took place. His brother and friends didn’t let him live it down. He took the brunt of their brutal teasing, keeping his focus on what he really wanted, Sybil.

He watched as Sybil tried to figure out the instructions to the tent she’d brought on their first camping trip. It was early Autumn, and the weather was still pretty warm. He snorted, “Don’t need that booklet. Didn’t need no fancy tent neither.”

“I wanted it to be special,” she huffed, “and I can’t make heads or tails of any of this.”

He walked over, grabbed the instructions, and tossed them in the fire.

“Hey!” She laughed, “How do you expect to set up this tent then?”

He set to work, “Syb… pull them ropes your way.” He handed her a spike, “Stick ‘em in the ground…”

He pulled the other side and did the same. He put together the supports inside, assembling the tent in no time. She smiled proudly as she looked at the results.

“I knew you were good for something,” she teased, messing with his short hair.

That night after hot and heavy lovemaking, they went skinny dipping in the river not far from their setup. She shone under the moonlight, her body dancing with the beads of water dripping down her shoulders, over her breasts, and into the water at her waist. Daryl joined her and as they made out she said, “I could stay here forever.”

How he wished he had.

Chapter 9: The Thick of the Woods

Daryl spent weeks wandering the woods. He’d become so silent, he didn’t even need to call Dog, Dog just knew when to come. He’d gone a longer distance with each day, following the river downstream. He’d passed some small makeshift cabins and checked them out. Even spent some nights in one or two of them. He fought Walkers. Trudged through a downpour. Played with Dog in different clearings they happened upon. They lived off fish, rabbits, squirrels, wild yams, and leeks.

(2 Years Later) Sybil and Daryl got an apartment together. They’d been together for well over four years, and things just fell into place. They were happy, content with life. She was in her fourth year of college, she wanted to be a teacher, and Daryl was working for a local garage fixing just about anything with a motor.

“C’mon Syb… y’all get that cute ass in here. ‘ll help y’ study.” Daryl wanted to be as supportive to Sybil as he could. Even when he didn’t understand what he was quizzing her on, he felt proud of his girl for being so smart.

“If I don’t know it by now, I’m never going to know it.”

“C’mon ‘s the hard stuff, Early Childhood Development,” He held up the book, “We’re gonna go over t’ ones highlighted. Y’all got the rest down pat.”

“Okay, okay,” She threw her hands up in the air.

“Listen… ‘s somethin’ y’ really want, right?”

“Yes,” she answered, her eyes locking with his.

“Then y’ gotta put the time in. ‘S been four long years, but ‘s almost over. Don’t give up.” He squeezed her hand gently as he leaned in to kiss her.

“What would I do without you?” She asked, rubbing his scruffy cheek.

“Fail t’ damn test,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. They both laughed, “Right. Question one…”

He smiled at the thought, on how she graduated in the top five of her class. He’d liked to have thought he was part of the reason for that, if she wasn’t so smart to begin with. Still, it was some of his favorite time back then, watching her mind work, the way she’d bite her tongue and look at the ceiling while she thought about her answers, and how she loved to be rewarded with kisses.

One evening, just before dusk he heard a scream. Another voice was yelling, “Over here… this way!”

Heavy footfalls, groaning, and growling. Walkers. He followed the sounds and before crashing through the brush, he surveyed the situation. About ten Walkers were surrounding a couple of women and a man. They were fighting the Walkers pretty well, but there were too many. Daryl aimed his crossbow, clipping one Walker in the head about to bite the man’s shoulder. He fell to the ground. Unsure of what happened, the people continued to fight. He unsheathed his two knives, broke through the brush, and took two out, slicing another at the knees. One of the women brought down a knife into its brain. The other woman shoved a Walker into a tree and split its head with a machete. Three more to go. The man was backing up, looking to see if there were any more, turned around, and got one mere moment from attacking him. Daryl wiped the blades on his filthy pants and looked at the people quickly.

“Thank you,” one of the women breathed, “I don’t know if we could’ve made it without your help. Imagine finding another living soul in the woods.”

Daryl nodded as Dog sniffed around for any other threats. The woman with the cleaver was kneeling, cleaning her blade on one of the Walker’s shirts.

“Yes, thank you.” She stood up and turned to face the man, “we wouldn’t have made it.” She brushed an arm across her grimy face and said, “Do we look as bad as you do?” She smiled at the light joke. Daryl did a double-take. He squinted his eyes and studied the woman closely. She wasn’t anything to look at from first glance being road worn and ragged. But he saw those mystifying green eyes he’d never forget.

“S… Sybil?” His voice broke from being quiet for so long. It sounded foreign to him.

“How do you know my name?” She asked, eyeing the stranger. He was caked in mud, grungy from head to toe, long filthy hair pasted to his dirtied face.

“’S me…” was all he could muster taking a step closer. The woman looked deeply into the man’s eyes.

“Syb… ‘s Daryl…” he patted his chest.

“Daryl?” Her eyes widened. With sharp analysis, she determined that under that mess was the man from her past when everything was right in the world. Her throat closed as she stood stone still. The air was so thick, no one spoke, but everyone was bewildered that Sybil could find someone in the middle of nowhere that knew her.

There was movement behind her and a voice, “Mom? Is it safe to come out?”

For Part Two Click Here

[carlsdarling]

Hear me out stepdad carl x reader where carl is married to readers mom but carl and reader are having an affair carl is in he’s early 20s and reader is 19

Triangle

Carl has married Y/N`s mom, but Y/N also likes Carl a lot... Bit more of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

DESCRIPTION: smut, nsfw, age gap

You angrily slammed the door behind you and ran across the meadow to avoid hearing the moaning from your mom's bedroom. As so often, she was sleeping with Carl in the middle of the day, and the whole thing pissed you off. You hadn't liked it when your mom and Carl started dating about a year ago. But the fact that they then had to get married had topped it all off.

You had been completely stunned when your mum told you at dinner. Your fork had fallen clattering onto the edge of your plate. "Mum!" you said in horror. "What are you doing? Are you completely nuts now?" you shouted at her. "Carl is more like my age! It's embarrassing when you guys get married! For God's sake, have your fucking affair if you must, but don't marry him!" Full of rage, you had thrown your sandwich across the dining room so that it smacked against the wall and slid to the floor in a trail of mayonnaise.

"Y/N, how are you talking to me?" your mom said indignantly, clutching the edge of the table so that her knuckles protruded white. "I never knew you were so bigoted! And they always say your generation is so open-minded and progressive! But no, you're full of prejudice just because of the age gap!" Hurt, she cleared the table.

"I told you to fuck Carl if you must," you argued spitefully. "He's an adult, I don't care! But if you marry him, you'll make a fool of yourself! He'll cheat on you with a younger girl, and it serves you right! And people are already gossiping and making fun of you!"

That wasn't true, you hadn't heard any such rumors, and besides, your words were mean and unfair, and you knew it. Your mum Kelly looked smoking hot. You couldn't tell she was 42; she was slim, fit, had no wrinkles and kept herself in shape, and she dyed her long hair regularly. Plus, she was fun and not at all stuffy. But Carl was 22, a mere three years older than you, and you just found it embarrassing that the two of them were getting married.

At least, that's what you claimed. The real reason, however, was different - you had the hots for Carl yourself, and you didn't want to live under the same roof as him and your mom and witness the constant kissing, groping and fucking.

So you roamed around Alexandria aimlessly for two hours until it started raining and you scurried back home. You unlocked the door; at least there was silence now, except for the sound of the shower. You cautiously glanced into your mother's bedroom, but apparently she had already left for the store to do some shopping. Then you saw that the door to the bathroom was ajar, and you could spy Carl, who must have just gotten out of the shower and was standing in front of the mirror. Still annoyed, you pushed the door open.

Carl glanced at you, startled, hastily wrapping a towel around his hips. "Well, Daddy," you teased him, leaning against the doorframe.

"Stop that, Y/N," Carl growled.

"Why? You're officially my stepdad now. That's what you wanted." Lasciviously, you let one strap of your summer dress slip off your shoulder.

"Actually, I was going to marry Kelly," Carl dismissed you. "You were just there."

"Oh, come on, Carl," you teased him further. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it at some point." By now you were standing in front of him in your underwear. He was tempted, you could tell from the look on his face.

"'Get dressed now,'" he demanded, but his voice sounded shaky. "I'm just a man, too. This isn't fair."

"She won't know," you coaxed him, and walked backwards to your room, not taking your eyes off Carl. He followed you hesitantly. Abruptly you stopped, wrapped your arms around him, and kissed him. At first it seemed as if he wanted to push you away, but then he let himself go for it. Your tongues played with each other as you staggered over to the bed, and you removed the towel from Carl's hips. He was already aroused, no matter how much he might deny it: he desired you.

"We don't have much time," Carl said nervously, his dark hair still damp from the shower.

"It's okay," you murmured, writhing teasingly under him, pointing to your nightstand. "You'll find condoms there." The whole situation, even the possibility of getting caught, drove you totally horny. Carl hastily put on a condom before gently penetrating you, looking at you as he did so. "You don't have to be so careful Carl, I'm not a virgin anymore," you gasped, eager for him to finally start pounding. For so long you had longed to finally feel Carl inside you, to smell him and taste him, and so envious you had been of your mum.

Carl was a skilled lover; he watched your face and changed the angle of his thrusts several times until he found your most sensitive spot. "Oooooh, Carl," you whimpered, "Like that! Go on!"

He moaned, and you clawed your fingers into his slender hips. "Don't scratch me, please," he whispered. "Or she'll notice." Carl sped up his movements, his cock sliding into your wet pussy like you were made for him. He held himself back until you were cumming sighing and whining underneath him, then he rode out his own orgasm.

Exhausted, you lay next to each other afterwards. "We can do this more often," you said playfully.

"Don't you feel bad at all? Kelly's your mum," Carl asked, frowning, cleaning himself up.

You screwed up your face. "Do you love her then?" you dodge the question. "She's so much older than you."

Carl considered for a moment. "Yes," he then said. "At first it was just sex, and I found it exciting that I could get an older lady interested in me, but then... she's fascinating, she's got a great personality, and she's attractive. I don't know what will be in ten or twenty years, but for now we love each other."

"Don't you think I'm prettier than her?" you pouted.

"It's unfair to draw comparisons. You're much younger than she is," Carl murmured, pulling you close again. "But we can do this again occasionally if you promise to keep it to yourself."

"I promise," you said, smiling.