#ooc daryl dixon

[dix0nspretty]

Lost and Found

Summary: On a run into a nearby town, Daryl and Y/N encounter a bad group of men. Daryl takes a beating and you get taken. He won't stop until he finds you.

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader, 5.7k words

Era: Prison! Post-Woodbury merge, pre-attack

TW: SA and attempted rape. Please don't push your boundaries!

Here it is, my first Walking Dead fanfiction and the first fic I've written or published in over 8 years. Feel free to leave comments, criticism, requests, and anything else! Hopefully, yall enjoy!

3 hours and 27 minutes.

That’s how long Daryl had been searching for you. How long you’ve been missing, since you’ve been taken.

It was supposed to be a normal run, calm even. A few days ago, the two of you found a seemingly untouched bookstore 30 minutes from the prison. You wanted to go in, practically begged Daryl to stop. To your immense disappointment, he refused.

“Daryl, please!” You pouted from the passenger seat of the truck.

He could hear the whine in your voice and focused his attention on the road. If he looked over and saw your full lips in a frown, he would give right there. He would do anything for you, and you knew it. This trick has worked on him since the early days of the quarry since you walked up to him and asked him to watch over you while you cleaned off in the water. He didn’t know you, hell, he could hardly stand you or anybody else, but he risked a glance up at your face. Your pretty eyes locked with his for just a moment, but that was all it took. He was yours for good.

“Nah, ain’t cleared. ‘Sides, don’t have enough room as is.” His rough voice answered, doing his best to keep his composure. He didn’t like telling you no. The truck was full of supplies, food and the like, for your group as well as the newcomers from Woodbury. You couldn’t fit goods from the bookstore.

He could feel the disappointment radiating from your side of the truck. He wouldn’t give in, not this time. But-

“We can come back later. Busy with Rick the next few days, but I’ll bring ya back.”

A cheer rang out. “Yes! You promise?” He fought to keep a grin off his face and nodded his affirmation. He glanced your way and saw the brightest smile on your face.

You excitedly began planning what you would grab, talking about all the books you could bring back for the children, for Carol, for yourself. Daryl didn’t recognize most of the titles and certainly none of the authors, but that didn’t matter. He would do anything for you, just to see that beautiful smile.

That was three days ago. Now, instead of gushing over your books, you were missing. Daryl doesn’t know how they knew you were coming, but not long after your arrival at the shopping center that housed the bookstore, you were both attacked.

Daryl somehow convinced you to stay in the truck while he cleared the stores of either side of your target. If anything went wrong in the main store, you could retreat through the connected alleyway and escape through one of these. The stores were clear of both people and walkers. Thinking back, he should’ve known better. If he wasn’t so wrapped up in the image of you waiting for him, maybe he would’ve been suspicious. Maybe he would have used his fucking brain.

Instead of doing his damn job and making sure you were safe, they got the jump on him. Daryl turned a corner on his way back to you and took a mean punch in the face. He stumbled back and tried to fire his crossbow at the attacker, but he was disarmed by another man. He took hit after hit, doing his best to fight back and hoping to God they didn’t see you outside. He was on the ground taking boots to the ribs and punches to the face when he heard your voice. No.

“Daryl?” You weren’t in the store yet, but you would be in no time. The hits lightened up at the sound and something akin to fear and desperation made him call out to you. He couldn’t risk you walking in and not knowing what awaited you. He wouldn’t be able to help you if he tried.

“Y/N, go! Get out-” He was cut off by a hard hit with the butt of a gun. The world spun and Daryl couldn’t see past the kaleidoscope of pain.

Despite his warning, you skidded to a stop in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of you.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous. Y/N, is it? Aren’t you a pretty thing. Name’s Robert.” A voice from above spoke and he vowed to cut the man’s tongue from his throat. He could hear the threat. You needed to get out of here before they hurt you or worse.

“Ya touch her and I swear to God...” Daryl growled. He was going to skin this man alive. He would cut his fingers off and feed them to him. Him and his buddies were going to wish they never spoke to you.

“God?” Robert huffs. “What are you and God gonna do? Huh?” He sauntered over to you. For every step the man took towards you, you retreated until you hit the wall. Daryl didn’t know why the hell you didn’t just run when he told you to. He wasn’t worth risking your life over.

When you were backed into a corner, Robert grinned. The fear on your face was exactly what that asshole wanted. He laid a hand against your throat and caressed your chin with his thumb. If Daryl could stand, he wouldn’t have no hand.

“W-what do you want?” Your eyes flicked back and forth from the threat in front of you to Daryl’s bloody form on the ground. He could see the anger and fear on your face and was furious at himself for getting the two of you into this position. If he just paid attention…

“I want to take that mouth of yours out for a test run, but I have a feeling you like to bite.”

Fuck this. Daryl lashed out at the closest person, and they dropped to one knee. Before anyone could react, he hauled himself up and kicked the same spot and was rewarded with a sickening crunch. Despite the burning in his ribs and chest, he spun around and delivered a right cross to the next man. He dropped and Daryl stalked towards you but was stopped in his tracks by the tell-tale click of a safety releasing.

“Take another step and I’ll blow her little brains all over the wall. Don’t think I won’t just because she’s a nice piece of ass.” The gun was pressed firmly against your forehead leaving no room to disarm him. The first tear rolled down your cheek as your chin quivered. Without looking away from Daryl, Robert leaned forward and slowly licked it off your face. You whimpered and tried to withdraw. The sound broke something in him, he would do anything to never have to hear you sound so helpless again.

 “Now you are going to sit your ass down and behave. Don’t make me hurt her.” Daryl wanted nothing more than to bash the fucker’s face in, but he couldn’t risk any more pain coming to you.

Shaking from the restraint, he forced himself backwards. One of the men grabbed him and shoved him onto his knees. He leaned in and locked eyes with Daryl.

“You broke my friend’s leg. Either you or the girl has to pay for that.” His rank breath invaded Daryl’s space and he glared daggers at him. His breath came out in huffs as he tried to keep his rage under control. The constant threats weren’t helping him restrain himself.

Daryl jerkily nodded. “Take it from me. Just leave her ‘lone.” He heard you cry out and instinctively broke eye contact to search for you. You were in the same spot, not having moved an inch. You looked devastated and he found it hard to keep eye contact with you, knowing he couldn’t help.

Tears continued to roll down your face as you sobbed. “Don’t- Don’t hurt him. Just let him go. Let him go and I’ll come with y’all.” What the hell were you thinking? He wasn’t going to let them take you anywhere. They could take their anger out on him, but they couldn’t have you. He was about to voice these thoughts before Robert spoke up.

“How about we hurt him and take you anyway?” He grinned maliciously, looking between the two of you. He was enjoying this display of emotion, and it made Daryl sick to his stomach.

His minions wasted no time and took Daryl for round 2 of his beatdown. He didn’t try to fight back; he kept his eyes locked on you. You would be okay. The longer they focused on him, the more chance for you to get away.

You could protect yourself if he couldn’t, he had made sure of that. Back at the farm, when Shane was becoming a threat to everyone, he taught you everything he knew. He was terrified you would be alone with him and in danger, so he taught you how to defend yourself.

He hated seeing the tears glistening in your eyes, hated being the cause of them, but if you were crying then you were alive. That’s all that mattered.

Daryl’s vision was getting hazy. He knew that if he went unconscious you would be alone and in danger, but he couldn’t stop it. He was sure he heard you calling his name before everything faded to black.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long he was unconscious for. His wounds stung, and the busted skin from the boots was bleeding steadily, so it couldn’t have been long. The blood on the floor was still wet.

The first thing he noticed was the silence. His hearing was sharp from years of hunting experience, and he knew there was nothing, undead or alive, in the store.

Where the hell were you?

He managed to get himself off the ground and ignored the immense pain he was in. It hurt like a bitch, but he would live. Blood and cracked ribs hadn’t stopped him before and it certainly wouldn’t now, not without knowing you were safe.

Robert and his men took Daryl’s crossbow but not his knives. While this put him at a disadvantage, he relished the idea of looking into their eyes while he gutted them. You were his.

He found your hunting knife not far from where you last stood. They must have forced you to disarm. If they were smart, which they clearly weren’t, he grumbled, then they would have patted you down. They didn’t see you as the threat you could be and so they were unaware of the second knife in your possession.

Something flared in his chest as he realized that it was his knife you were armed with. You took it some weeks ago and never gave it back. To be honest, watching you use it to kill walkers and train made his heart light up. At least he was with you in some capacity.

Daryl followed the disturbances on the ground. The parking lot was covered in dirt and leaves, so he could get an idea of which direction they went. There were two possible paths: the road or the woods. And because these dicks didn’t know who they fucked with; they went with the latter. Stupid sons of bitches. They walked right into his domain.

Y/N’s POV

Oh, these bastards are gonna pay.

The leader, Robert, had a hand wrapped around my waist. He was leading me into the woods and away from the shopping center. The creep’s hand kept wandering to my ass and I fought the urge to stab him in the throat now. I would get the pleasure of killing him but the other two would be able to subdue me quickly. It was better to wait.

“Still thinking about your archer? I’m sure he’s dead by now. Left the doors open for our rotting buddies to get a free meal.” His hand squeezed around my waist. I was sick of him touching me.

“Fuck you, you rapey asshole.” I spat. The only reason I was so meek in the store was in the hopes that it could help Daryl. Now he’s back there hurt while we are parading through the woods. No reason to keep my attitude in check now.

Robert’s hand disappeared from my side and a resounding smack filled the air as he backhanded me. I nearly fell to the ground, stumbling from the force, but he yanked me upright and slammed me into a tree.

“You’ll learn to watch your mouth, girl. Keep that attitude in check or I’ll have to show you something better to do with it.” He leaned in and took a deep breath, his nose tracing the skin of my shoulder up to my pulse point. I shuddered and did my best to not physically rebel. Handsy, I could handle. I didn’t want to see what would happen if I gave them a reason to go any further.

A rustling in the trees drew everyone’s attention and thankfully, Robert away from me. Daryl?

It was not my archer; it was a small herd of walkers. From my spot against the tree, I was the farthest away and had a front row seat. I watched as one of the walkers attacked the dude with the broken leg. He struggled with it for a minute but lost as his leg crumpled under his weight and a chunk of flesh was ripped from his throat.

The man screamed and screamed as his friends fought the others off. I couldn’t help feeling a sick sense of satisfaction and retribution as I watched him slowly die. Daryl breaking that man’s leg just sentenced him to death and helped even the odds. Even when he wasn’t here, he was protecting me.

Robert was using Daryl’s crossbow. His filthy hands were touching Daryl’s crossbow. I almost saw red at the disrespect he was displaying. Despite the dick’s handle on Daryl’s prized possession, I needed to focus on getting away.

I could run while they’re distracted… Unfortunately, Robert and his remaining friend managed to gain the upper hand against the herd before I had time to make my move. The one unnamed guy yanked me up by arm and dragged me towards Robert, who was staring down at his dead friend.

“What a shame. Nick was a good man.” Yeah, right. “He was slowing us down. Saved me the bullet.” He said impassively.

Oh shit. If he only cared about his friend in terms of how he could help or hinder, things could be worse for me than I thought. I needed to get out of here, and soon. As his buddy forced me past Nick’s body, I stumbled and fell to the ground. Blood coated my hands and knees.

“Goddamnit, girl. You that fuckin’ slow?” He seethed in my ear as he dragged me up from the ground.

“Now now, there’s no reason to get mad. Y/N’s just in shock. Never seen someone die by a geek?” Robert asked in his condescending tone. Of course, he thought I was a helpless girl, protected and sheltered from what life is now. Why not give him more reason to doubt my abilities?

“I, uh. Y-yeah. I knew it happened but I’ve never…” My voice wavered. I really needed to sell this. I thought about Daryl, how he was bloody and unmoving on the floor as they dragged me out. He could be dead and not just hurt. Tears sprang in my eyes and I sniffled.

“Well, we’ll keep you safe gorgeous.” Robert moved to take his friend’s place at my side, sending him to walk ahead of us. We edged around the puddle of blood and continued forward.

He didn’t notice me leaving a bloody handprint on the nearest tree.

Daryl’s POV

It wasn’t a hard trail to follow. Robert’s men took large, heavy steps through the foliage. To his relief, Daryl found evidence that you were still walking on your own. Smaller tracks, but not nearly as light as they could be. You weren’t trying to be careful. It was clear that you resisted at first, but someone must’ve forced you forwards, either by gunpoint or otherwise. He hoped it was the latter. Either way, he would find you soon enough.

Daryl followed as quickly and silently as he could. There were little to no walkers for much of the trek. The ones he did encounter, he dispatched quietly. He didn’t want to risk alerting the group of men that he was close behind. After some time, he began to see signs of a scuffle.

What happened here?

Scanning the ground, it was clear to Daryl that you were shoved. The set of feet that were by your side, too close to your side for his liking, stayed in one spot while yours dragged backwards.

The son of a bitch had put his hands on her. If he hurt you… The men were already going to die for taking you, but Daryl could drag it out. No need to make it clean and quick.

He looked at the scene ahead of the tree. Blood, walkers, and a dead body. Daryl’s heart stopped in his chest. He took out the few walkers that were feasting on the body, adding to the pile of corpses already laying in the dirt. He slowly approached the bloody form. His heartbeat in his throat so hard he thought he would choke on it. God, please don’t let it be her, don’t let it be Y/N.

Daryl forced himself to investigate the face of the body on the ground and thought he would cry in relief. It wasn’t you. No, it was one of the men from the stores. The one who’s leg he broke.

A violent grin pulled at the edges of his lips. One down, two to go. Daryl could take two people in a fight. The element of surprise would be on his side if he stayed undetected, a skill he’d perfected.

Standing back up, Daryl looked for a new set of tracks. There were no obvious trails, the walkers would have mucked them up, but there was an odd smear in the blood. Someone had disturbed the pool. Daryl lightly touched the liquid. It was still warm, he couldn’t be more than 5 or 10 minutes behind you now.

He scanned the immediate area and found a mark. It was a bloody handprint, deliberately pressed. Daryl’s fingers ghosted across the stain and a genuine smile crossed his face. My clever girl.

Y/N’s POV

Night fell and Robert stopped to set up a small fire. I left bloody marks on as many trees as possible. If Daryl is out there, he has a path almost all the way to me. If he’s even alive.

“Y/N. Can’t be over there by yourself, sweetheart. Come sit with me.” Robert looked up at me and he eyes shined with something I didn’t want to name. I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave my spot by the tree line. I felt relatively safe over here, where neither of the men could grab me.

“Girl don’t make me ask again. Over here. Now.” I knew I needed to move towards the fire, but my feet wouldn’t shift from their spot. I was pissing them both off, risking a beating or worse with no possible backup. If Daryl were here, he’d be furious.

But that’s it. Daryl isn’t here. It’s me and two violent, unstable men. I started to turn towards into the shadows, but Robert was by my side in a flash. His hand wound itself into my hair and pulled savagely.

I yelped as he dragged me towards the fire by my hair. My scalp was stinging, and no amount of fighting would get him to let up. I wasn’t in a position to force his release, my feet scrambling in the dirt as I fought to pull myself up. I was thrown fully down, and his hand was no longer in my hair.

The split second of relief was gone in a flash as he kicked me in the ribs. I let out a short scream before my breath was knocked from my chest as he kicked again once, twice, three times. They burned more than they should. Steel-toed boots.

“You fucking bitch, I told you to listen to me. Now I gotta punish you because you can’t be good.” Robert crouched by my side as I fought to catch my breath past the burning ache. The other man hovered by my opposite side, effectively blocking me in. Now I’d antagonized both men and lost my chance to get away.

My heart froze in my chest as I heard the clink of a belt buckle. No, no, no. I fought with renewed vigor, trying to shove myself past the men and into the safety of the trees. I only made it a few steps before a hand seized my ankle and I hit the ground. My ribs lit up with pain and I could barely see past the stars in my eyes as I was dragged backwards and flipped up to face Robert. He leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“I like it when you fight. What if I let you go, give you a two-minute head start? Chasing you through the woods would get me so hot.” He groped at me through my shirt and grabbed my chin, forcing me into a rough kiss. There was no way for me to reach Daryl’s knife in my boot, so I did the only thing I could. I bit into his lip and tore it off his face.

Blood rushed onto my face as he let out a hoarse scream and fell backwards. His eyes were wide and stunned.

“Thought you said you could tell I liked to bite.” I stood up and pulled my knife from its hiding spot. His friend grabbed me and punched me hard in the side of the face. I hit the ground and waited. He leaned over my body, looking at me like a bug to be squashed. Just a little closer, asshole.

“I’m going to hurt you, you little-” His threat was cut off with a wet gurgle as I plunged the blade into his throat. I managed to flip around and gain the upper hand, twisting and yanking the blade out. I was absolutely soaked in blood, barely able to see past it, and Robert was getting up.

Fuck. I hesitated for a split second, torn between running and turning around and gutting Robert. He grabbed the crossbow, which was already loaded from our last encounter. As he picked it up, I spun around and bolted for the trees. I make it into the woods, but not before I hear a low whistle, and something hits me in the left side.

I can’t afford to stop and check. I keep running into the woods back the way we came, praying that I can get far enough away before the adrenaline wears off and I start to feel the object stuck in my side. One of Daryl’s bolts. Branches were whipping across my arms and face, leaving stinging marks. My face and ribs throbbed. But I can’t stop.

My breathing ratcheted up and my heart fluttered like a butterfly. I wasn’t watching my feet and I tripped over a root, breaking my fall into someone’s chest.

Daryl’s POV

Although Daryl could track the steps made by the men, your map of blood ensured he was going the right way. He could feel himself getting closer and his body tensing up for the fight. They would have to kill him to keep you.

A high-pitched scream rang through the trees, quickly cut off. Y/N. Daryl would recognize your voice anywhere.

His heart begged him to pick up the pace and run to help you. You sounded terrified. He forced himself to not outright run, he didn’t want to risk you by charging into the area half-cocked and knowing nothing.

Not long after your scream, a second yell was heard. That was clearly a man, one in pain. Daryl abandoned his plan and began to speed towards the sounds. If both you and a man screamed, you could be getting attacked by walkers. Or another group. Or-

Stop it. Fuckin’ quit. He couldn’t play these scenarios out and stay aware of his surroundings. He had to focus on the present and getting you out of there.

A branch snapped a little to his right and Daryl froze. Something, no someone, was coming his way and it wasn’t trying to be quiet. Whoever it was, they were running for their life.

He slid his two knives from their holsters and brought his hands into a defensive position. There. He can see them now. They were short and feminine. Is that-

You had no idea he was right in front of you. He didn’t have time to call out before you stumbled fell right into his chest.

Daryl’s arm instinctively wrapped around you to break your fall. His chest ached by the force of your impact, but it didn’t matter. It was you.

You fought against his chest, screaming and hitting, trying to break free. A small grunt sounded from the body in front of you.

“Please! Please, let me go, let me-” Your voice cracked as it strained under the stress. Tears ran down your face as you struggled uselessly. Daryl wasn’t letting you go for anything, never again.

“Y/N? Y/N, baby, it’s me. It’s me.” Your struggles died down as your body put a name to the voice, your brain slower to catch up. Whiskey, gasoline, grease. Blood. Ocean-blue eyes.

“D-Daryl?” Your voice sounded so small; he could tell you were scared out of your mind and slow to process. Something terrified you.

He tightened his grip on you and swayed you back and forth. “Yeah Y/N. It’s me.”

A sob wracked through your body. It’s him. He’s okay, he’s alive. The tension drained out of you as you sank into his hold. Your knees gave out and he supported your fall, resting you both on the soft leaves coating the ground.

“He- he tried to-” You couldn’t get the sentence out, but you knew he understood. He always did.

He held you as you cried into his neck. Daryl pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and breathed deeply, needing to ground himself. You smelled the same; cocoa, vanilla, alcohol and something all your own. Blood singed his nose and shocked him back into reality.

He pulled away from the grasp to get a look at your face. You whined and tried to burrow back into him, but he held you by the shoulders. He needed to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“’S okay, just checking ya ain’t hurt. ‘S okay.” It was not okay. Your face was soaked with blood, some of it yours and some of it from the others. There were cuts across your cheeks still weeping blood and a nasty bruise crawling up the right side of your face. Some of the blood was even in your hair. Your shirt was ripped at the collar, exposing (thankfully) bite-less skin, and you had an arm wrapped around your waist as if holding yourself together. His breath stopped at he looked at your torso.

“Y/N.” His voice was quiet and tense, his accent making a more obvious appearance. “The hell ya got a bolt in your side for?”

Oh. That. “He got me when I was gettin’ away, he has your bow. Asshole…” You cursed. Now that you were safe, you could really feel everything. Your eyes started to close. You were exhausted from fighting for your life and he felt like a horrible person for forcing you to stay awake.

“Y/N, darlin’. Need ya awake. Can’t sleep yet.” He lightly patted the non-bruised cheek, making your eyes flutter open. You didn’t look as if you were entirely there. If Daryl had to guess, it was a combination of exhaustion, blood loss, and dissociation.

His blood boiled as he thought about the men who did this to you. He was going to fucking kill them. But he had to patch you up first. He wouldn’t, couldn’t let you out of his sight, not even when he dealt with those men. He thought he would go insane if he couldn’t see or feel you by his side.

Looking down at you, he knew there wasn’t much he could do to help at the moment. He had to keep the arrow in your side until you were back at the prison with Hershel. He quickly stripped his vest and his flannel off. He reached for your waist, but you flinched, and he immediately quit moving. Daryl felt guilty but he took a deep breath. Those assholes tried to force you and you were traumatized. They were the problem, not him.

“’M gonna tie this ‘round your waist, keep tha bolt from movin’. Need ta keep it in so ya don’t bleed out, okay?” His voice was gentle as he waited for your response.

“Mhm. I know you won’ hurt me.” Your words were a bit slurred as you looked up at him. That wasn’t a good sign. You’d lost more blood than he first expected.

As gently as he possibly could, Daryl pulled the flannel around your waist and tight enough to act as a torniquet. You yelped in pain and he wanted to kick himself for hurting you more. No, he wanted to kick those dipshits-

“I got a few more questions, darlin’. Y/N, where are they?” His hands rubbed up and down your arms to keep you awake and to comfort you. Daryl wanted to know where their campsite was. He had a visit to make.

You pointed behind you. “It’s that way, not too far. Only one left’s Robert. Ooh I bet he’s mad.” A tired giggle left your lips. The situation was far from funny, but you couldn’t help it.

“Why’s he mad? Wha’ happened to the other one? Saw the first a’ready.” One hand left your arm and gently rested on your cheek.

You hummed and leaned into Daryl’s touch. “I bit his lip off. He was trying to-. Anyway, the other one’s dead. Got ‘em right here with your knife.” You tapped his jugular softly.

He didn’t know just how proud of you he could be until that moment. He had let you down in the store, but you managed to protect yourself from the worst of it. He didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened if you hadn’t fought back.

“That’s ma girl. I love ya so much.” You looked up and were rewarded with those pretty blue eyes looking back into yours with adoration. You wanted to stay here with him forever, but you knew the situation was time sensitive.

“Let’s go, the camp’s thatta way.” You tried to haul yourself up and almost hit the ground hard. Daryl quickly wrapped an arm around you and supported most of your weight, doing his best to not provoke the bolt still in your side.

The camp wasn’t far at all. Daryl was so close to you, and you had no idea. It would’ve have been a matter of minutes if you hadn’t made your move. But those minutes would have been filled with pain. You were happy he didn’t have to see you like that.

Daryl’s eyes flicked over the dead man’s body and latched onto the sight of Robert with his back to you both. Daryl set you down gently and lifted a finger to his lips in a silent request. You nodded and he crept towards the man at the edge of camp.

Once behind Robert, he purposefully made a noise. Robert spun around and Daryl was lightning fast, nailing him in the face. Robert hit the ground and Daryl was quick to follow. He threw punch after punch, soaking his hands in blood. His ribs burned like hell, but his rage burned brighter.

He pulled back and allowed a moment of reprieve for the time it took to grab one of his knives. Daryl buried the hilt into the man’s shoulder, effectively pinning him. Robert shrieked in pain.

You hated to see the effect this entire day had on Daryl, but you couldn’t help but delight in the attacker’s pain. You wanted to see him bloody and dying. That’s the least he could expect for the damage he caused.

“Promised myself I’d do this when ya’ first laid a hand on her.” Daryl gripped the man’s hand and brutally chopped a finger off. The screams were both nauseating and rewarding. He went on to the next, then the next. Soon the man was left with 6 fingers.

“Shoulda never touched her. Warned ya’, didn’t I?” He grinned animalistically. You’d never seen Daryl so furious, so dangerous. It sparked the smallest amount of fear before you chided yourself. He would never hurt you. These men were asking for it.

“Please, God, please- “Robert begged. He would bleed out soon, but not soon enough to spare himself more pain.

Daryl shook his head. “What’re you and God gonna do?” He mocked. “Nah, ain’t no God out here. Just me and you.”

Something dark curled up in your chest. The lengths this man was willing to go for you…

When Daryl was done, he slit Robert’s throat and watched as he bled out in the dirt. His eyes eventually went dull, and Daryl extracted his blade from his shoulder and wiped them both harshly on the man’s body. He wouldn’t even spare the man from the transformation. No, he could walk the Earth and feast on people. Daryl hoped that there was a part of him alive in there, despite what Jenner said all those months ago.

You watched as Daryl approached and knelt beside you. His hand was pressed to his ribs, which were likely broken. He’d almost forgotten the beating he took. He looked over your body and locked eyes with you.

“Hi, darlin. Are ya ready to go home?”

[iluffyouxo]

𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎

╰┈➤ 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚡𝚘𝚗 𓆩♡𓆪

If I had stayed quiet longer, would you still have waited for me?

⋰⋰⋰⋰⋰

He caught her arm as she began to walk away. His eyes were pleading, but she quickly snatched her arm out of his steely grip. “No, Daryl. I can’t…you don’t get to look at me that way.”

What had he done so wrong to deserve a statement such as that? Daryl truly could not pinpoint where Bishop’s anguish stemmed from.

“An’ you don’ get to walk away,” his voice was strained, tight from the fear of crying.

Bishop turned to him, her stare cold as she gave an incredulous expression. “Can’t I? You’ve been running away for as long as I’ve known you.” Her voice was composed and tone full of poise; Glenn had taught Daryl long ago that his sister’s calmness was one to fear in these circumstances.

Daryl gulped thickly, “I have no idea what yer talkin’ ‘bout.” The lie seemed to escape him before he could fully comprehend his words.

He blinks stupidly. Bishop scoffs, “Are you serious?” Her laugh was scathing.

He was bewildered within her amusement—what exactly had been so funny? Bishop was quick to throw on her boots (she was beginning to grow jaded of the topic). She had to leave, get out and take a turn about the prison. She felt that if this conversation prolonged, the entire prison will hear them.

“Why did I think this would work…?” She questioned, herself mostly, as she walked towards the covered entrance of her cell. “I have to go.”

If Bishop seemed as if she could leave barefoot earlier, then now—with her shoes on—there was nothing stopping her from abandoning him. This would be his one and only chance to make up for his indifference (lest he wish for the treatment he’s bestowed upon her all this time).

“Bishop, ’m sorry. Please. I’m beggin’ you.”

She shook her head. This was becoming a bit too ridiculous. Especially for the end of the world. Duchess-Bishop Rhee pining after a man when she couldn’t even find something proper to eat that wasn’t spoiled or already tampered with. To say she was emotionally exhausted was a severe understatement.

“You’re only speaking like this now because of Glenn and Maggie.” He stayed quiet. Her words were true after all. Daryl couldn’t—or rather shouldn’t—argue the obvious.

Why had it taken her brother and his “wife” to get kidnapped by the Governor for Daryl to finally accept his feelings towards Bishop? “I’m pathetic.”

She still stood close to the doorway, a curt nod her only response. She was still ready to leave when the moment called for an immediate distance from him. For now the silent treatment didn’t seem completely necessary. However, her back still faced him. Daryl couldn’t tell what she was thinking as he continued.

“I’m pathetic,” he repeated. “I’m an idiot. I’m an asshole. I’m everythin’ yer thinkin’ right now.” He took a few steps forward, stepping light as to not startle her away. “I’ll be every bad guy in the book to ya, if only to make up for it.”

Bishop froze, having been lost in her own thoughts, Daryl’s words a hushed buzz in the back of her mind, and she looked up at the sound of footsteps closing in. She held her breath as she saw Rick carrying baby Judith through the almost sheer fabric of her black and red curtains. “I dunno what you are to me right now,” she finally managed to say once she felt Rick was out of earshot.

Daryl’s heart pounded loudly at her words (and he was damn certain she could hear it, too).

In his old life before the pandemic—before Bishop—Daryl was about the most unlovable asshole this side of the Chattahoochee River. Even Merle would get laid every now and again. But Daryl? He had only ever had a few kisses throughout his teens, and the girls would always regret it right afterwards.

Daryl had spent countless nights wondering if it was worth ignoring the obvious mutual affection between the two of them. Going mad over what exactly the most perfect woman he had ever met saw in an alley redneck like him.

He was truly confused about the attraction, and it caused him to withdraw, to become cold and distant.

Now he understood the consequences of his reaction. “‘M sorry I hurt you; I didn’ mean for it to affect ya like that. I was bein’ selfish.” Daryl didn’t want to lose her all because he couldn’t get it together.

Bishop finally turned to him, a small smile playing at her lips. “I know the world is fucked up right now. And if I lost you…I might lose my mind—“ Bishop gulped down her nerves, “—but I wanna try this with you. Right now.” She shrugs, holding back hot tears that threatened to fall and swayed in her eyes, “I like you Daryl. Quite a lot, actually.”

And, with teary eyes, she pulls him into a hug. “I won’t fault you for saying no. Just know that the offer still stands…and probably will for a long time.”

Before Daryl could react she’s pulled away and headed outside again, this time with a lighter air about her. “You’ll always get your way with me, Daryl Dixon.” A soft chuckle bounces throughout the room as Bishop finally leaves. Daryl is left to wonder once again how he ended up so lucky.

And left to ponder on the perfect way to ask the most perfect girl out.

[just-alittle-spooky]

CLAIMED

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader Summary: Y/N and Daryl got separated when the prison fell and he's been trying to find his way back to her. After Beth was taken, he meets up with the Claimers. Daryl is determined not to fall into their convention, refusing to "claim" anything for his own. Until he finds Y/N wandering on the tracks by herself and sees the way Joe is eyeing her. Warnings: a mention of blood and dark themes pursuant to the Claimers

It had been weeks since Daryl had last seen your face. Since he'd last looked into your eyes, shining with unshed tears. Since he'd held your hand and told you to make a run for it, that he'd meet up with you when the dust settled. The dust had settled, but no matter how hard he looked, he just couldn't find you.

Maybe it was because he'd made the decision to get Beth out of the prison first. Maybe if he hadn't taken that time out, he would've been able to meet up with you. Maybe you'd been waiting for him, just like you'd promised. Standing at the relative safety of the treeline and defending yourself from walkers, waiting for him to show up and reunite with you like he'd promised. Maybe something had happened, you'd been forced to flee. Maybe you'd been overtaken by walkers, or killed by one of the Governor's men. Maybe it was just that second of hesitation that had lead to your death.

Still, try as he might, Daryl wasn't able to blame Beth. In the end, he'd made the decision to stop for her. And he'd have to live with the consequences. Besides, it was hard to hate somebody when they were constantly telling him what he wanted to hear. Beth was always going on about how much you liked him, how you'd find him sooner or later. You were tough, Daryl already knew that, but you were damn stubborn, too. And if there was something you want, there was very little that could keep you from it for long. Governor, walkers, and the vastness of Georgia notwithstanding.

It had been comforting to hear, and it gave Daryl some hope that he might not have had without her constant reminders. But now Beth was gone, too. Taken by someone in a black car with a white cross on the back window. That had been the result of yet another foolish decision. Daryl had hesitated. He'd sent her out of the house ahead of him while he dealt with the walkers, and he wasn't there to protect her. She was gone because of him. Just like you were.

It seemed like there wasn't any real reason to continue for Daryl. He held onto the guilt, the responsibility of rescuing Beth, and that kept him walking. But any hope of seeing your face again had dwindled down into almost nothing. He'd lost you, probably forever. And there was nothing he could do about it. Rick's group was scattered, he'd probably never seen any of them again either. Beth was taken. You were most likely dead. Daryl was really and truly alone now.

That was when they found him. The Claimers. At first they seemed amiable, but he quickly learned about their little 'rule.' Something that Daryl found barbaric and pointless. He stayed with them out of convenience, but he refused to even speak to any of them, apart from Joe. He knew exactly what kind of men they were, and Daryl wanted no part of it. So he held out, didn't say a word as the members of Joe's group took his things and tried their best to humiliate him. It had been made clear to him; all he had to do was say one word and they would stop. He only had to lay claim to something he wanted, and it was his. None of them would be able to do a thing about it, per their own rule. But Daryl had pride and patience and stubbornness in abundance. He refused to play their game. Let them strip him of everything of his. So what? At the end of the day, he'd still have his character. The kind of person you would be proud of. Daryl wouldn't claim a single thing.

They'd been walking without pause for the last few days. Daryl's legs were screaming and the sun was beating down on him, turning the top of his head into hot asphalt. He kept walking. The rest of the group did, so he did, too. Joe tried making conversation but Daryl refused it as always.

He hadn't been with them long, but he got the sense that Joe had plans for him. The grey-haired man was always sort of, hanging around Daryl. He always had an eye or an ear on him. He was watching him. It made Daryl's skin itch. It was like Joe was waiting for the day that Daryl would give in.

"So tell me, Daryl," Joe began again after his last two attempts at conversation went belly up. "You seem a capable man. The kind of man who takes what he wants."

Daryl kept his eyes on his boots, trying to look like he wasn't paying any attention to Joe's words.

"You're looking for something, aren't you?" Joe cut to the chase. The abruptness of it caught Daryl off guard. He stopped dead in his tracks and raised his gaze to meet the other man's.

"Huh?" was all he gave in response.

"I can tell when a man's looking for something, maybe somebody you lost along the way. Doesn't make a lick of sense, you being out here on your own," Joe shook his head. "If you tell me what you lost, we can help you find it."

Daryl was about to shake his head, spit out an angry response. Something along the lines of 'I don't need anybody's help,' or 'you can take your concern and shove it.' Something that would make you proud. But before he could say anything, one of the other Claimers called out from behind them.

"Biter!"

In the distance they all caught sight of it around the same time. There was a figure, blurred by the haze of Georgian heat. The closer it got, the more it looked like an ordinary walker. Covered head to toe in grime and mud and blood, unsteady, stumbling footsteps, grey and pale and sickly colored. As Daryl neared the creature he could tell that it was a woman, one leg dragging behind as it tried to put all it's weight on the other. That was unusual. Walkers didn't limp quite like that. They just went forward and felt no pain so the only limp came from the decaying muscles being unable to hold them up. This figure was deliberately favoring one limb over the other. She was also silent. No gurgling moans or undead screeches. This woman was alive.

One of the other men was raising his gun towards the woman. Quickly and quietly, Daryl hissed out, "wait, wait, wait!" The other man was too confused to argue, and held his gun steady without taking aim.

Daryl approached the figure a little more quickly now, the rest of the group matching his speed. They wanted to know what had him so curious about another one of the dead. It was as if the man hadn't seen thousands already.

The woman kept her head down, perhaps unaware of the group of men in front of her or perhaps trying to ignore them. Her eyes were trained on her own boots, watching the gravel under the railroad ties shift under her weight with each step. It wasn't until she heard the crunching of another pair of footsteps that she lifted her eyes from the ground. The sight she met nearly knocked her off her good foot.

"Daryl?" the name spilled out of her mouth before she had a chance to even register the sight of him.

Daryl didn't reply with words. Instead he picked up his pace, his hurried steps turning to a full sprint. He met the woman as she tried to hobble over to him quickly and her face confirmed what he already thought. It was you. You were alive and you were here, right in front of him. Injured and worse for wear, but alive. Daryl's arms flew around your shoulders and you buried your head in his neck. Neither of you cried but you both felt the weight of your reunion pressing down on your hearts.

It had been so long since you'd last seen Daryl. He'd sent you away to wait for him, and you had. But the walkers just kept coming, and eventually you had no choice but to make a run for it. If you'd stayed any longer, you would have been cornered. You'd managed to escape, just narrowly, and you broke out into the forest, heart racing. There you stayed for another few hours, hoping that your tracker would be able to pick up your trail. He didn't come, and soon the walkers grew bored of the prison and found their way towards you once more. Your sore legs carried you the distance to the edge of the treeline. There was a railroad.

You started walking, no clear direction in mind. Just forward. You killed walkers when you came across them and tried your best to avoid people. That was the easy part. You hadn't seen a single soul since leaving the prison. You had begun to think you would never see Daryl again, and your footsteps got heavier with every passing day.

But now, here he was, holding you tight against his chest like he was never going to let go. You wondered how long he'd been looking for you, if he'd given up like you had. You adjusted your hold around his shoulders, tightened it. If you had your way, he never would let go, and neither would you. You were both sweaty and covered in blood and dirt but you were together again. It had been a long way to go from where you were supposed to meet up at the prison, but you'd both gotten there eventually. You'd never felt so happy in your life.

But nothing good ever lasts for very long.

"Who's your friend, Daryl?" it was Joe. His voice cut through the moment like a sharpened blade.

Daryl cast his eyes to the other man. Scanning his face, he saw in his features nothing good. Daryl had always known that Joe was a vile, repulsive excuse for a human. But the thoughts he could practically hear swirling in the other man's head while he looked at you set Daryl's teeth on edge.

"Claimed," the word came out so effortlessly and the hand of his that had woven around your back tightened imperceptibly. You felt it and peered up at his face curiously.

"Daryl?" you asked, echoing yourself from moments ago. He didn't look at you, didn't make any show of acknowledgement. His eyes remained locked with Joe's, dark and cold and warning. You were glad he wasn't looking at you just then.

Joe seemed satisfied with Daryl's acquiescence. He gave the other man a simple nod and turned around to face the rest of his group. Daryl's body relaxed and he looked at you, eyes clear despite the flood of worry in them.

"Ya okay?" he asked, handing trailing up from your back to your shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

You nodded, "what was that all about?"

Daryl just shook his head. After a moment, "how'd ya find me?"

You shrugged, "I wasn't really trying, to be honest with you. When I saw you, I thought somehow you found me."

Daryl nodded and pulled you in for a tight hug that stole your breath. He whispered, "I did."

You pulled back enough to eye him and say under your breath, "is this like a cult thing? Do I have to marry you now cause you claimed me?"

Daryl chuckled lightly and answered, "nah, ya don't have to do anything. Just had to say it so he couldn't."

You nodded and chanced a look at the other men. Each set of eyes were peering at the two of you, dark intentions in all of them. Your hair stood on end and you regarded Daryl carefully.

"Making new friends?"

"No," he answered right away.

"Then maybe we should go," you suggested and finally tore your eyes from the men to look back at Daryl's face.

He nodded, "we will. Just gimme time."

You smiled at him then, and he felt his heart flip. "You found me. We have time," you spoke sweetly. He nodded, a light pink tinting his cheeks. The color only spurred you on and you said, "and hey Daryl? You didn't have to claim me, I'm already yours."

You were lucky he didn't drop dead right then and there.

[pinkandblueblurbs]

hi! would it be possible to do “nobody - hozier” ? maybe comfort where daryl has to assure reader that rick’s not actually mad at her after he’s had a rough go with her, he just needs to make sure she’s being safe? all sniffles and cries on his lap as he tries to avoid touching her sore bottom :’(

"he ain't mad at ya," Daryl tries as you cry softly in his lap, worrying your lower lip. You look at him with a doubtful scowl, knowing that Rick most certainly is mad at you. Daryl huffs. "Fine. But he'll get over it."

"Y'think so?"

"Always does, don't he?" Daryl's hand finds your back, rubbing slow, somewhat unsure circles. "He just doesn't like to see y'be so reckless. Can't say I do either."

"I know..." you murmur softly. "I'm sorry."

Daryl's shoulders raise in a slight shrug. "You'll learn. Rick made sure'a that, huh?"

You let out a whined "yeah", shifting on Daryl's lap to try to ease the pressure on your sore ass.

[careol]

you know daryl could have just said "i never stopped trying to get home" but he said "i never stopped trying to get home to you" and i think that is a VERY IMPORTANT ADD ON.

also, there was a sadness in carol when she said "you loved her" which breaks my heart BUT daryl never confirms that. he never has, he never says it. and i think that is also VERY IMPORTANT TO NOTE.

[murkyhazed]

I just wanna say that I disagree with the cast and producers saying Daryl has found a new family in the france survivors. Daryl may not want these people to die and wants to see them succeed, but he doesn't love them like he loves his true family back in the states. He isn't torn about staying in france or going back home. He wants to be home like yesterday. He just can't live with the guilt of these people dying because he didn't help.

But it has nothing to do with them being family. At least it won't in my portrayal.

[disneybucks]

fwiw i'm still around! just haven't been about often 'cause of adjusting to grad school and working on tags i've owed since july on my main rp blog. i'll probably be doing some wade stuff this week though, finally :]

[hopeworth]

ever look at a trans headcanon and be like he would NOT trans his gender

[murkyhazed-is-archiving]

𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗰 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿 ?

the betrayal

you die at the hands of the person you love most. maybe there are tears in their eyes as they drive the sword into your chest, maybe there is none. there are certainly tears in yours. your mouth will open to ask 'why' only to spit blood instead. you will die never knowing if they loved you at all, wondering if you could've done something to prevent this, or if it was always going to end this way.

[nessa-mayfield]

(I'm sorry, I can't stop laughing & I love this

Tara: I sleep with a gun under my pillow.

Rosita: I sleep with a knife.

Y/N: Both of you are pathetic.

Tara: Oh yeah? What do you sleep with?

Y/N: Daryl.

Daryl: 😩

[iluffyouxo]

𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

the walking dead — daryl dixon x black, female oc

He had come to me trembling, soaked head to toe due to the heavy downpour indicating the beginning of autumn. His gaze quivered as soon as his eyes landed on mine once I had opened my door. Without even an uttering breath I stepped aside and he immediately bolted to my single bathroom.

This was our usual routine.

Daryl tended to come to my apartment, battered and broken and ashamed, a few days out of the month. Never speaking a word to each other before or after he winds up at my doorstep with pleading glances.

In this way, I’m sure my attraction was clear…my affections obvious.

And, yet, in this way, I’m sure he remained oblivious with betrayal in his heart. Daryl was a cold-hearted bastard—and his indifference towards me (towards our friends) was rightfully earned.

I sigh as I gathered some of the spare clothes I had bought him after he found himself sleeping on my couch for four days with a black eye and fresh whipping scars on his back. It truly bewilders me how he hadn’t slept on his stomach that entire time.

Soon enough I heard the distinct sound of running water from the shower head and knew it was time to replace his dirty clothes from off the sink counter with fresh ones. Tossing the wet clothing in my washer I waltz into the kitchen to make him a quick meal.

Daryl wasn’t picky, quite the opposite, actually, but when he is here, I want to make sure he eats better than he has since his last thrashing of my apartment. Therefore, I made him some fried salmon and homemade fries.

“Hey,” his voice was gruff and strained.

I look up at him as I finish setting the table and instant regret churns in my stomach. His wet brown hair was shaggy and clung to his skin, his bangs slicked back from the many times he had ran his fingers through them, his crystal blue eyes were a stark contrast to his pale skin and harbored a tired inclination. His black t-shirt and plain sweats fitted him well and damn near ignited the feral teenager in me.

I blink and turn my head away. It took everything in me to not keep staring. “Hey,” I cough.

We take a seat at the dining table and I tie up my box braids before saying a quick prayer and digging into my food. Though, in the corner of my eye, I can see Daryl picking at his plate with a deep frown and furrowed brows. I took this moment to study him before becoming irritated myself.

Today he had come to me with scars on his arms and a deep cut on his forehead.

And it wasn’t long before his overthinking began to cause him to tremor. At the realization that he was about to snap (as he’s done so many times before) I abruptly stand and rush to his side. I wrap my arms around him and pull him in close to me. “You’re safe here,” I mumble. Daryl gives a wavering breath before he’s pulling at my hoodie and crying into my arm.

It’s moments like these that I cherish the most.

Though, I’d prefer he’d come to me unharmed, cocky and a cigarette dangling between his lips, I’m grateful for these times of vulnerability between him and I. It’s the only time he shows that he trusts me with his heart.

I’m truly grateful for these quiet days of ours.

Hopefully, some day, these quiet days become distant memories in our lives tangled in each other’s sheets, basking in his contagious laughter and butterfly-inducing smile.

[dixons-sunshine]

The Archer’s Girl | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the world ended, you and Daryl narrowly escaped the clutches of the dead and found yourselves in a quarry camp with Merle and some other people. Unwanted, someone in the camp took a weird liking and disliking to you, and it made you extremely uncomfortable. Luckily, Daryl was there to stand up for you.

Genre: Fluff, some angst.

Era: Outbreak day; The Quarry.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU but can be read as a standalone.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of morning sickness.

Word count: 4.4k.

A/N: Damn, I love when two requests correspond with each other and I can get them both into one fic. It’s my favourite thing in the whole world. I feel like Daryl is kinda ooc in this, but I tried to imagine how he’d be with a woman he just met at the quarry and started forming a relationship with vs how he’d be with someone he’s been with since he was a teenager, and in my mind, he’d totally be softer regarding someone he already knows and loves vs one he’s just started getting to know. So soft!Daryl in this, it is! Anyways, I hope you like this!

Barely one minute prior, you had strayed from Daryl’s side to go grab some milk. You had told him that you would be right back, but with all the chaos that had suddenly unfolded in front of you, you highly regretted leaving him at all. With everything going to hell, you could be separated from the man you loved. That thought terrified you.

“Daryl!” you called out, attempting to push past the stampede of people trying to hurriedly evacuate the store you were in. You were abruptly shoved into one of the shelves, a sharp pain shooting up into your ribs. A loud curse escaped your lips as you clutched your side.

However, as you turned around, nothing terrified you more than the sight that beheld you.

On the floor, a woman was screaming in pure, unadulterated agony. On top of her was a man whose body appeared to be decaying, and he ripped a huge chunk of her flesh from her chest. His grimy hands were clawing at her stomach, and with little to no effort, he tore her stomach open. The sight was truly mortifying, and it would never be erased from your mind.

A hand grabbed your wrist from behind. You flinched and tried to rip your hand from the person’s grip, but the familiar voice of your husband calmed you down. However, when you looked at him, you were surprised to note the splatter of dark blood all over his clothes and face.

“S’me! S’jus’ me!” he hurriedly explained. He cast one glance to the horrific sight in front of you before dragging you along with him, the two of you moving quickly. He stopped momentarily in front of one of the shelves to grab two knives, carefully pushing one of them into your hold. “Ya see one’a these dead motherfuckers, ya stab ‘em in the head, alright? S’the only way they drop dead.”

“What? I don’t—”

“Dun’ think ‘bout it, Peach!” he cut you off, pulling you with him out of the store again. “They ain’t alive. The news weren’t lyin’ to us ‘bout the dead risin’. We got a real fuckin’ problem on our hands now.”

Choosing to trust his judgement, you nodded and hurried next to him. The two of you ran down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of your apartment. As you continued onward, you highly regretted deciding to walk to the store instead of taking Daryl’s truck. It would have been a whole lot easier to escape the mess surrounding you if you had a vehicle.

Just as the two of you arrived at your apartment building, about a dozen of the undead people were stumbling out of the door. Daryl quickly pulled you with him to the parking area instead, making a beeline for his truck. However, more of those things flooded the area and a couple of them were heading straight towards you, and it was clear that the two of you weren’t escaping without a fight.

“Ya got yer knife?” Daryl questioned, shooting a glance at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you told him, gripping the knife so tightly your knuckles started turning white.

“Good,” he replied, stepping forward to plunge his knife into the skull of one of the monsters. He withdrew the knife, holding it ready to use at a moment’s notice. “Ya gotta stab ‘em in the head as hard as ya can, alright? Dun’ think ‘bout ‘em bein’ alive. These assholes ain‘t livin’ no more.”

“Don’t worry about me trying to talk them out of eating me or something,” you scoffed, replicating the way he was holding his knife with your own. “I’m not that stupid. All these fuckers are getting from me is a fatal blow to the head. They’re not touching me.”

“That’s my girl,” he praised you with a small smile. However, his attention soon got diverted back towards the flood of the undead stumbling around in the parking area.

As the two of you continued onwards, Daryl repeatedly stabbed the heads of the monsters. By some miracle, the two of you made it to his truck without you having to do anything. However, just as Daryl was getting into the driver’s seat and you were opening the door to the passenger seat, a slimy, blood-covered hand gripped your arm tightly in its clutches.

You let out a small cry of terror, instantly alerting Daryl to your horrifying predicament. However, as you struggled against the literal death grip of the monster, its teeth trying desperately to take a chunk of your flesh, you realized that you couldn’t wait for Daryl to come to your rescue. By the time he would have managed to make it towards the other side of the truck, you would already be doomed. You had to take matters into your own hands.

Shakily, you drew your hand that held the knife back and plunged it deep into the thing’s skull with a sickening force. The monster miraculously fell limp with the first blow, its hand falling from your arm. However, before you could fully process that you had just killed something that was once human, Daryl took your face in his hands and checked you over, his eyes filled with fear. You had never seen him with as much terror in his eyes ever before.

“Are ya okay?” he asked in a hurried manner, his voice shaky as his blue eyes searched your body for any signs of hurt or discomfort. “Please tell me the prick didn’t get ya. No bites, no scratches, nothin’.”

“I’m okay,” you assured him, watching him calm down somewhat. “But we have to leave. Right now.”

“Yeah, let’s g—”

The deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the area, followed closely by the rumble of a motorcycle. When the motorcycle came into view, you were both simultaneously relieved and disappointed to see none other than Merle Dixon. He stopped his motorcycle once he saw you, an exasperated look on his face.

“Y’all jus’ gon’ stand there and get eaten or get in the fuckin’ truck? I did not risk my life gettin’ here jus’ to watch y’all become a mid-day snack.”

Daryl opened the door to the passenger side and quickly ushered you in, shouting over his shoulder at Merle. “What the fuck are ya even doin’ here?!”

“Helpin’ yer sorry ass!” Merle exclaimed, shooting at another oncoming monster. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Daryl did not need to be told twice. He rushed to the driver’s side and hurriedly got in, starting up his truck and speeding out of the parking area, following behind Merle’s motorcycle. With all the chaos that had unfolded, the two of you hadn’t even managed to go grab some clothes from your apartment. However, by some stroke of luck, as you glanced towards the back of the truck, you noted that two duffel bags were resting there, as well as a bag with everything needed to construct a tent, as well as Daryl’s crossbow. You thanked your lucky stars that the two of you had gone camping for his hunting trip two days prior, and forgot to remove everything from his truck. The clothes were dirty, sure, but once you found a body of water, you’d be able to wash them. And Daryl’s crossbow would more than likely come in handy.

“Are ya okay?” Daryl asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was nervously chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes darting between you and the road.

You nodded at him, trying to calm your racing thoughts. In a matter of thirty minutes, your life had flipped upside down. You had killed someone, whether they were dead or not. The blood from the kill coated your skin and made you feel sick at your actions, but you tried to remind yourself that the thing you killed was not human anymore. If you didn’t kill it, it would’ve killed you. It would’ve killed—

Gasping, you sat upright and clutched at your stomach. Daryl looked at you worriedly, his eyes trailing to your stomach. His eyes widened in terror, his grip on the steering wheel tightening even more, if that was even possible.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned in alarm. “Oh, god. S’somethin’ wrong with Peanut? Did those pricks—”

“No! No, nothing’s wrong,” you reassured him, your hand resting on your stomach. “It’s just... With everything going on, I forgot about the baby. I forgot about my own child, Daryl. What kind of future mother does that make me?”

Daryl moved one of his hands to rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the fabric of your jeans. He sent you a small smile, hoping to bring you some comfort.

“S’okay,” he told you. “Yer not gon’ be a bad mom. With everythin’ goin’ on, yer body went into fight or flight mode. S’cause of it that ya managed to keep the baby in yer belly safe. And once they’re here, I know yer gon’ do yer absolute best to protect ‘em. They’ve got the best damn mama ever.”

One month had passed. One month since the dead had started walking. One month since everything you knew had gotten destroyed. One month since you had stumbled upon a quarry camp filled with other survivors with your husband and brother-in-law. One month since your life had been turned upside down.

“I hope so,” you mumbled, resting your hand that wasn’t on your stomach over his hand that rested on your thigh. “I really hope so.”

You sighed as you washed one of Daryl’s jeans, subtly listening to the other women making conversation, the women sitting quite a distance from you. Most of the ladies in the small camp you were in tended to keep their distance from you, deeming you damaged goods due to the people you were with. Well, more so because Merle was your brother in law. You and Daryl tended to keep to yourselves, with Daryl only speaking to others when absolutely necessary, but the same couldn’t be said for his hotheaded older brother. Merle had made quite the first impression on your fellow survivors, and not a good one. And automatically, by mere association, they had deemed you and Daryl the same. Most of the women simply referred to you as the archer’s girl, and you were pretty sure they didn’t even know your actual name.

Most of the women didn’t even bother acknowledging your existence most of the time. The only exception was a sweet woman named Carol Peletier, who offered you her kindness whenever she saw or spoke to you. She offered you advice on how to properly scrub stains from jeans, on how to fix up the holes in your husband’s socks, and so much more than that as well. She was the only one who you had felt comfortable enough sharing the secret of your pregnancy with, and even though she promised not to tell anyone, she silently offered you her support, and gave you advice regarding your pregnancy by telling you stories about her own pregnancy with little Sophia. Carol was your only true friend there, and you appreciated her on a profound level.

Without her, you probably would have snapped at the other women there for the judgemental looks they threw your way, so you deeply cherished the friendship you had formed with her.

The touch of a calloused yet gentle hand drew you from your thoughts. You looked up and locked eyes with your husband, his blue eyes staring down at you with a softness reserved only for you. You sent him a smile and dropped the pair of jeans you were washing on the ground, standing up to face him better.

“Ya know all’a that washin’ s’now ruined ‘cause ya dropped it in the mud, right?” he told you playfully, sending you a small smile.

You smiled and shrugged. “It’s your jeans. I’ve never heard you complain about a little mud on them before, considering those kills you have to skin that stained these jeans in the first place.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, yer right,” he replied, before his smile fell and he adapted a more serious tone. “I have to go huntin’.”

“Again?” you asked incredulously, your mood visibly deflating. “You went on a hunt not even two days ago.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daryl said with a heavy sigh, fidgeting with his hands. “But that Shane prick demanded that I go on another hunt again for some reason. I dun’ know why, ‘cause we have enough meat to last us another week or so, but he threatened to throw us out’a the camp if I didn’t go now. We can’t leave. ‘Specially not now.”

Your lips formed into a small smile as Daryl’s eyes trailed down to your stomach, his eyes softening slightly as he thought about the life that fluttered there beyond the skin, the life that he had helped create. His very own son or daughter. A small being that he would go to great lengths to protect, even if they weren’t born yet. His little Peanut.

You stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek, before withdrawing again. You giggled at the blush that spread across his face, and you did not miss the way his lips twitched up into a small smile. He could say whatever he wanted, but he secretly loved your little public displays of affection. It was never something big, like some passionate kiss or a full-blown make out session or something along those lines. It was always something small and sweet, something quick to show your affection without drawing too much attention to the two of you. A subtle graze of your hand against his, quick pecks on the cheek, a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, you name it. You knew how to show him love in public without making him uncomfortable, and he loved you for it.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

Daryl noticed and subtly took your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Ain’t no tellin’. Walsh demanded that I find some venison, and that might take me a while. Dun’ even know if there are any deer here.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. “Stay safe, okay? I love you.”

Daryl nodded. Stepping out of his own comfort zone, he leaned down and pressed a feathery light kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he gently caressed your cheek. “Always am. And I love ya more, Sweetheart.”

With that, he turned around and left, leaving you standing alone with the unfinished laundry. Watching his retreating figure, you smiled fondly, completely missing the envious looks the other women were sending your way.

They had not heard your conversation, the two of you being too far away to overhear anything, but they did see the way the archer interacted with you. It was so vastly different from the way he talked to anyone, including his own brother, his own flesh and blood. It was clear there was a lot of history between the two of you, good and bad, and it made the two of you a strong couple. From what Merle had let slip in his high state once, the two of you had been together since you were both merely seventeen years old, and by the looks of it, the two of you were still going strong. The two of you radiated love for one another, and that’s more than most could say about their own past relationships.

Three days had passed. Three days where Daryl was nowhere to be found. Three days where you had to deal with Merle’s disgusting attitude on your own. Three days where you had to sleep alone in your shared tent, wishing, praying that he was there beside you.

It was clear the two of you shared something special, a deep, profound bond that went beyond what the naked eye could see, and it felt unfair to them that they couldn’t find love like that. And with the world at its end, they doubted that they ever would be able to.

It seemed like Baby Dixon noticed their father’s absence, and they weren’t a fan of it. For the past three days, you had not managed to keep anything down in the depths of your stomach. Any and all food you ate came right back up again within a few hours, and it was not exactly pleasant. Thankfully, nobody saw you whenever you rushed to the bushes behind the RV to spew out the contents of your stomach, so nobody knew of your pregnancy just yet.

And you had Carol by your side whenever your stomach rebelled against you, so that was a major plus for you.

“God, I hate this so much,” you groaned in frustration, eliciting a laugh from the woman gently rubbing your back.

“It’s what comes with the joys of pregnancy,” she laughed lightly, continuing the circular motion on your back until you felt better. Once you stood upright, she handed you a bottle of water, encouraging you to drink as much as you needed to. “Drink up. You need to stay hydrated.”

Once you had enough to drink, you handed her the bottle again. “Thank you,” you thanked her, giving her a small smile. “How’d you handle it? The morning sickness, I mean.”

“I was lucky enough to only experience a mild case of morning sickness,” Carol explained, wrapping her arm around you and starting to walk with you back to the main campsite. “You know, and I’m not saying this to pressure you at all, but maybe you should tell everyone about your pregnancy. It would be good for Glenn to be on the lookout for prenatal vitamins.”

“I can’t,” you denied instantaneously. “Then everyone will look at me like I’m carrying the black plague and see me as just another liability. I can’t have that. Daryl and I can handle things on our own until we absolutely have to tell everyone.”

“Okay,” Carol replied, before shifting the conversation away from something that quite obviously stressed you out, and she knew that stress was not good for the baby. “I drank a lot of herbal teas when I was pregnant. That seemed to really work for the nausea.”

“Just great,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Where the fuck are we supposed to find that?”

Carol smiled and gently rubbed your shoulder. “I’ll see if Dale has some. I remember him mentioning something about ginger tea.”

“What if he asks why you need it?” you asked hurriedly with worry evident in your tone.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” she reassured you. “I’ll just tell him I’m feeling nauseous. That something I ate isn’t corresponding with my stomach. Trust me, he’ll believe it.”

You sent her a smile. “Thanks, Carol. I mean it.”

She smiled at you before disappearing into the RV, on a search for Dale. You stood waiting outside, staring ahead at the treeline. You hoped that by continuously looking at it, your husband would appear from the trees with a deer over his shoulders, dirty but unharmed. Alas, as you had learned over the last few days that has passed, that did not work, and you wished you could go out there and look for him yourself, but you knew he’d be beyond mad if you did.

No, your main priority was your baby at that moment. Your husband had shown time and time again that he could take care of himself, so you chose to believe that he would be fine. You had to believe that, otherwise you would spiral into an abyss you did not want to go down.

The feeling of somebody standing next to you startled you. You stumbled and nearly fell, but the hands of the mystery person caught you. Looking up, you locked eyes with the self-appointed leader of the group, Shane Walsh. His brown eyes were staring down at you, a small grin on his face.

“Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized, slightly rubbing your arms.

“What’s your story, lady?” he asked curiosly, leaning back against the metal of the RV, his eyes trailing over you in a way you did not like.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, you shrugged his hands from your arms and took a step back, putting some distance between the two of you. You sent him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s okay,” you replied, hoping that he would end the conversation with that. However, the man had other plans.

“My story?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing with a low life nothing like Daryl Dixon? I mean, you could have anyone you want, but you chose him, the good-for-nothing redneck. Why?”

“Because I love him,” you stated matter-of-factly, sending him a harsh glare that only seemed to spur him on even more.

“Bullshit. There’s gotta be something to it,” he disagreed, chuckling at the glare on your face. “There’s no way that a guy like that managed to pull someone like you. It goes against all the laws of the universe. So tell me, what’s he got to offer? Is he paying you? Are you some prostitute he keeps around for his own pleasure or something? You certainly look pretty enough to have a guy pay you for something like that.”

Before you could stutter out an angry reply to Shane’s deeply offensive, deprecating accusation, a hand gently gripped your shoulder and pulled you aside. Looking up, you saw Daryl, an angry look in his eyes. Without a word, he stepped forward and viciously connected his fist with Shane’s nose, hearing the satisfying crack of the bone there.

“Son of a bitch!” Shane exclaimed, bending over to clutch his nose in his hands. “What the fuck, Dixon?!”

Daryl gripped Shane by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the side of the RV, a threatening glare on his face. Terror filled Shane’s eyes, something unusual for the for the former sherrif’s deputy. Everyone started gathering around the fighting pair, and Carol, who had rushed from the RV once she had heard the commotion, pulled you back from the battle ground, holding you firmly against her side.

“Listen’a me real fuckin’ close, Walsh,” Daryl spat angrily, his voice dangerously low. “I dun’ care what ya say ‘bout me, but if ya ever talk ‘bout my pregnant wife like that again, I’ll do so much worse than jus’ break yer nose. Ya dun’ talk to her, ya dun’ look at her, ya dun’ even breathe the same fuckin’ air as her. If ya do, I’ll skin ya alive and feed the remainin’ pieces of ya to the walkers. Do I make myself clear?”

“Fuck you,” Shane groaned out.

“Yer venison’s on the table. Next time, go hunt for it yer fuckin’ self.”

Without waiting for a response, Daryl shoved Shane harshly and turned around, meeting your eyes. Instead of finding fear in your eyes from his actions, he found adoration instead. You stepped out of Carol’s hold and took Daryl’s hand in your own, dragging him to your shared tent. You didn’t even spare a glance at the people, so you missed the way all of their eyes widened at the realization that you were pregnant, that they had been unnecessarily rude to a pregnant lady that had done absolutely nothing wrong to them. They had been harsh to an expecting mother and father, and for no reason at all. Everyone felt guilty, but the groan that Shane emitted caught their attention once again.

“I’m not mad, you know,” you finally broke the silence, watching the way his ocean-coloured eyes flickered over to you, the confusion evident in them. “Shane got what he deserved. Quite honestly, I planned on punching him, too. You just beat me to it.”

Back in your shared tent with Daryl, you were stood busy, gently cleaning the blood from his split knuckles whilst the man sat on the cot. Daryl was avoiding your eyes, feeling ashamed of his actions. In all the years that you had been together, you had only seen him lash out like that once—one time when you were drinking together in a bar when you were twenty-four, a guy had grabbed your breast without your consent, and Daryl had completely lost it. After that, he swore he would never act like that around you ever again, but Shane had made him break that promise.

“M’sorry,” Daryl mumbled, ducking his gaze to the floor. “I know ya can fight yer own battles. S’jus’... Hearin’ the way he talked ‘bout ya, like ya were some object whose worth he could judge... I dun’ know. It made me pissed. Ya dun’ deserve to be treated like that, ‘specially not when yer carryin’ a baby in yer belly.” He sighed and placed his good hand on your stomach. “Speakin’ of, m’sorry I revealed that yer pregnant. I know ya wanted to keep that hidden for as long as possible.”

You smiled and gently lifted his chin with your finger, gazing deeply into his eyes. “It’s okay. They would’ve found out eventually,” you told him, gently cupping his cheek. “Look at you, always so considerate about everyone else except yourself. You’re amazing, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl blushed. “Yer the amazin’ one,” he countered, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your stomach. He placed a small kiss to the clothed skin. “Peanut’s gon’ have one hell of a mama.”

“And one hell of a daddy,” you replied, bringing one of your hands to thread through his hair. “I love you, Daryl.”

“Love ya more, Peach,” Daryl murmured, closing his eyes at the comforting feeling, his head still resting against your stomach. “Love ya too, Peanut,” he whispered to your belly, and it made you smile.

The serene moment was soon interrupted. The soft calling from Carol grabbed your attention, and you giggled at the groan Daryl let out.

“Y/N?” she called out. “I’ve got that ginger tea I promised you.”

“Ginger tea?” Daryl questioned, looking up at you.

“Yeah. I got a bunch of morning sickness without you around for some reason. It seems like Baby Dixon doesn’t like it when their daddy’s not here.”

“Good,” Daryl chuckled, rubbing your stomach affectionately. “Then I guess ya won’t mind if I stick ‘round.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to think about it before letting out a light giggle. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

“That’s real good to hear.”

Before you could respond, you heard the bellowing voice of your brother-in-law. You groaned in frustration, praying that Carol had gotten out of the line of fire, because your tent was about to become a war ground.

“When the fuck were ya plannin’ on tellin’ me ya got that lil’ whore’a yers pregnant?”

Daryl visibly tensed up at his brother’s words, anger flaring up in his eyes, and you knew that another beating was about to commence. “The fuck did ya jus’ say, Merle?!”

“Ya heard me, boy.”

God, you hated Merle with a fiery passion, and you doubted that it would ever change. But you loved Daryl, and you knew that as long as you had him by your side, you could face anything.

Yeah, your little Peanut was gonna have the best father ever.

©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.

[tempobaekh]

A Love (Not) Torn Apart

pairings: daryl dixon x fem!reader (takes place in alexandria)

warnings: not much, fluff, crack, alcohol consumption, some shouting, maybe ooc daryl? the images at the top DO NOT indicate any physical appearance of the reader

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write something for this fine ass man for a while but I’ve been having a major writer block and busy with my junior hairdresser exam BUT i stumbled upon this post by @angelwings-crossbowstrings and i just had to turn it into a story. also i’ve been binge reading and rereading all of @dixons-sunshine works. she’s an amazing writing with enjoyable writing and also gave me some motivation to write something🤍 anyways this had me laughing at work and trying to write in-between customers💀

The sun had long dipped behind the walls of Alexandria, and the sky was an inky black, littered with stars.

You barely remember how it started. One minute, you were lounging on the couch, minding your own business and chatting with Carol after a particularly tough day in Alexandria. The next? Well, you were plastered—thanks to the moonshine Carol stashed away "for special occasions." She called this a special occasion because she was "bored," and apparently boredom justified cracking open a bottle. You didn’t argue. Why would you? It had been a rough week.

You should’ve known better. You’re not much of a drinker.

You have always had a low alcohol tolerance. When you got drunk, you would often do the most stupidly odd things.

Like the day you got shitfaced drunk and told Rick you could outshoot him blindfolded, almost shooting the man in the damn head. Or the day you insisted Daryl hand over your marriage papers so you could set it ablaze, saying, quote, 'Good luck returning me without the fucking receipt, Dixon!' Before collapsing into his embrace.

However, following Rick's incident, there was always a 10-foot radius check for weapons if you and a drink were present.

Now, you’re sitting in the middle of the living room floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Your hair is a wild mess—like, wilder than usual—and your hand clutches an old, tattered Polaroid picture of Daryl’s wife.

Except... you are Daryl’s wife.

 It was an old, weathered picture of you and Daryl taken back when things weren’t so apocalyptic. You looked happy in it—probably because there wasn’t a horde of walkers trying to eat you at the time. Your arm was looped around Daryl’s waist, and he had that rare, soft smile on his face. It was a picture you loved.

Right now, though? You hated it.

"She’s so pretty!" you wail, voice wobbling dramatically, holding up the photo to no one in particular. “How did he end up with someone so gorgeous?” Your head lolls back as you take another swig from the bottle of moonshine in your hand. “I’m never gonna be as good as her!"

Across the room, Carol watches from her seat with a mixture of amusement and concern, sipping from her own glass. She’s been trying to calm you down, but her efforts haven’t been successful. At this point, she’s just waiting for the storm to pass. Rick, however, looking for Daryl, steps through the door right at the pinnacle of your emotional breakdown.

“Carol,” Rick begins, eyeing your tear-streaked face and the empty bottle in your hand. “Why is Y/N cryin’?”

“She’s drunk,” Carol responds, deadpan, like that explains everything. Which, in all fairness, it kind of does.

Rick looks at you, then back at Carol, eyebrows raised. “And?”

Carol lets out a long breath, like she’s explained this one too many times. “She saw a picture of Daryl’s wife.”

Rick frowns in confusion, scratching the back of his head. "But… she is Daryl’s wife."

“I know,” Carol deadpans.

Rick shoots her an incredulous look. “She don’t realize that’s her?”

Carol just shrugs. "You ever try reasoning with a drunk person?"

Rick’s eyes narrow slightly as he processes the absurdity of the situation. “Where’s Daryl?”

Carol shakes her head, an amused grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “She kicked him out for cheatin’. He’s in the garage, waitin’ it out."

Rick looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he just shakes his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a sigh and decides to approach you instead, “Y/N?”

You hear Rick’s voice, but you can’t bring yourself to respond. 

Rick’s footsteps draw closer, and you can see him out of the corner of your eye. He’s frowning, his brows pulling together in confusion. That’s the look. The ‘what the hell is going on’ look. You’ve seen it plenty of times before. He squats down in front of you, hands resting on his knees as he assesses the situation.

Your face screws up again, tears welling as you shove the bottle toward Rick in a grand gesture of misery. “He’s cheating on me!”

Rick recoils slightly, probably because your breath smells like a distillery at this point. “Uh... what?”

“He’s cheating!” you repeat, throwing your arms wide like this should be obvious to everyone around you. You wave the photo in the air dramatically, like you were presenting your case to the high court. “With some—some woman!”

Rick looks at Carol again, completely confused by how your drunken brain came up with this. Carol just shrugs, but there's a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth like she’s fighting a smile.

“Okay... slow down,” Rick says cautiously, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s good with walkers, not so good with drunk people. Especially drunk people who are screaming about imaginary affairs. “Who’s he cheating with?”

You look around conspiratorially before leaning in like you’re about to spill the world’s most scandalous secret. “His wife,” you whisper dramatically, as if that explains everything.

Rick’s brow furrows again. “But... you’re his wife.”

You nod enthusiastically, your head wobbling a little. “Exactly! He’s cheating on me with me!” You hiccup, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. The bottle dangles dangerously from your other hand. 

 You knew this day would come. It’s just like you always feared—Daryl’s finally realized he deserves better. Someone prettier, smarter, and far less dramatic than you. You’re sure of it. You pull the Polaroid close to your face and squint at it.

"Look at her," you sniffle, voice thick with drunken emotion. “Look at how flawless she is. He’s probably out there with her right now!" 

Rick and Carol share a look, clearly unsure of how to handle this. Carol steps forward, cautiously approaching you like you’re a wild animal. “Y/N,” she says softly, “honey, that’s… that’s a picture of you.”

You blink, turning the photo back toward you and studying it intensely, your brows furrowing in concentration. “What?”

“That’s you in the picture,” Carol repeats gently, trying not to laugh.

You frown deeply, staring at the woman in the photo. “No, it’s not!” you argue, shaking your head as if they’ve lost their minds. “I don’t look like this—she’s so beautiful!” You lean forward, grabbing Carol by the arm, eyes wide with desperation. “Carol, how could he do this to me?”

Carol struggles to keep her composure. “He didn’t do anything to you, Y/N. You’re drunk.”

You collapse back on the carpeted floor, letting out a fresh wave of sobs. “I’m gonna divorce him! And then—and then—he’ll regret it!” The words come out in a slurred mess, your anger morphing back into sadness almost instantly. “He doesn’t even care! I kicked him out and everything.”

Rick pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing like he’s aged a hundred years in the last five minutes. He turns to Carol. “Okay. Where did you say Daryl was?”

You choose to answer instead before Carol can speak. “Who cares?! He’s probably with her right now!” You hiccup again, and then your face scrunches up as if you’re about to cry harder. “I’m his wife, Rick! And he’s out there... with her! She’s... she’s prettier than me!”

Carol lets out a bark of laughter at that, and even Rick cracks a smile despite himself. “Y/N, you are his wife.”

“I know!” you sob, throwing your head back in despair. “It’s awful!”

Rick lets out another long-suffering sigh. “Alright. I’m gonna go find Daryl.”

“He’s in the garage.” Carol mutters, and decides to console your hysterical self for the tenth time while Rick brings in Daryl.

“He’s gonna have to crawl back to me on his knees.”

Carol pats your shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure he will.”

You sniffle, nodding. “He’s just…he’s a man. They do dumb things sometimes.”

Carol tries to keep a straight face, but the corners of her mouth twitch. “Right. Exactly.”

After what seems like hours but is really just a few minutes, you hear the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing, with Daryl and Rick returning inside. 

Carol managed to peel the bottle of moonshine from between your fingers and pull you over to the couch, so you're now slumped over on the couch with the bottle somewhere in the kitchen. Your eyes narrow when you see him, but you’re too tired—and too drunk—to get up.

When Carol sees Daryl and Rick arrive, she gives Daryl a nod and decides to call it a night, returning home and leaving you to Daryl. Rick also says a quick goodbye to Daryl before leaving you two to be.

“I’m still mad at you,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away.

Daryl crouches down infront of you, resting his arms on his knees. “I know.”

“I’m divorcing you.”

Daryl smirks, brushing some hair out of your face. “You’re not divorcin’ me.”

“Am too.”

“Nope.”

You let out a dramatic sigh and lean into his shoulder, tucking your face in his neck, too exhausted to fight anymore. “I hate that picture.”

Daryl chuckles, wrapping an arm around you as he pulls you to your feet. “Yeah, well, I ain’t too fond of it myself right’ now.” He helps you inside, your steps wobbly as you lean against him, your anger slowly dissolving into sleepy acceptance.

“I was just... so mad,” you mumble, your voice slurred as you nuzzle against his chest. “Didn’t mean to kick you out.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Daryl murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Still... divorcing you tomorrow.”

Daryl just shakes his head with a smile as he helps you up the stairs. “Sure you are, darlin’. Sure you are.”

Daryl walks you towards the bedroom with the patience of a saint, keeping an arm securely wrapped around your waist as your legs wobble like a newborn fawn. You’re still grumbling under your breath, your words slurred and barely coherent, but your determination to maintain your fury has not wavered. Not entirely.

“You didn’t even say sorry,” you mumble, leaning heavily against him as you stumble over the threshold. “Should make you sleep outside again.”

Daryl chuckles softly, his grip tightening just enough to keep you from tripping over the rug. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to apologize first thing in the mornin’, sweetheart. C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.”

“Nooo,” you protest, your feet dragging with exaggerated effort. “You gotta... gotta say it now. Or—divorce.” Your head wobbles dangerously as you point a finger at his chest, your attempt to look stern falling completely flat.

Daryl shakes his head with an amused smirk, scooping you up in his arms in one swift motion. “Ain’t divorcin’ me if you’re too drunk to remember how.”

You give a half-hearted squawk of protest, but the sound dissolves into a giggle as he carries you upstairs. “I can remember!” you declare, though you’re already nuzzling into the crook of his neck, the warmth of him seeping through your foggy brain. “Daryl Dixon... divorced... for bein’ a big, dumb... dumbass.”

He reaches the bedroom and gently deposits you on the bed. You flop back like a rag doll, limbs splayed out as if you’ve completely given up on the world. “That’s a real solid case you got there,” Daryl mutters, shaking his head in amusement as he reaches down to tug off your boots.

You wiggle your toes when your feet are freed, watching him with a lazy, half-lidded gaze. “Yup. Real solid,” you repeat, mimicking his accent with a sloppy grin. “I’m real smart, you know. Like... a genius.”

Daryl pulls a face like he’s seriously contemplating this. “A genius, huh?”

“Yup,” you confirm, clearly proud of yourself. “Genius. That’s why I’m divorcin’ you. ’Cause... geniuses don’t put up with cheaters.”

He snorts and moves to grab a glass of water from the bedside table, holding it out to you. “Here. Drink.”

You take the glass but make no move to actually drink from it, instead eyeing Daryl suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“It’s water.”

“Water?” You narrow your eyes like he’s trying to trick you. “What for?”

“To sober you up,” Daryl explains, deadpan. “So you can remember all this nonsense tomorrow.”

You stick out your lower lip in a pout but finally lift the glass to your lips, taking a tentative sip. You immediately make a face like it’s the most offensive thing you’ve ever tasted, pushing the glass back at him. “I don’t like it.”

Daryl chuckles again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes the glass and sets it back on the table. “Ain’t supposed to like it. It’s just water.”

“Doesn’t taste like moonshine,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest as if this is some great injustice.

“Yeah, well, you ain’t gettin’ any more moonshine tonight,” Daryl says, his voice low and teasing as he crouches down to pull the covers over you. “Now, settle down.”

You huff, wriggling around as you try to find a comfortable position. “Still mad,” you mumble, though your words are getting softer, your body succumbing to the overwhelming need for sleep. “Divorce papers... in the mornin’.”

Daryl lets out a soft chuckle, lying down next to you and pulling you into his chest. “Sure thing, darlin’. I’ll be waitin’ for ‘em.”

You curl up against him, burying your face in his chest with a content sigh despite your earlier threats. “Better be sorry,” you mumble one last time, already drifting off into a heavy, alcohol-induced sleep.

“Real sorry,” Daryl mutters, his lips brushing against your hair. “Real sorry for marryin’ such a stubborn little thing.”

The next morning hits like a freight train.

Your eyelids flutter open, and the sunlight streaming through the window feels like it’s stabbing directly into your skull. With a groan, you roll over and immediately regret it. Your head throbs, your mouth is drier than the Sahara desert, and your entire body feels like it’s been dragged through a pit of walkers. Twice.

“Oh my God,” you croak, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Never drinking again. Ever.”

From beside you, Daryl lets out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

You crack one eye open, glaring at him through the blinding light. “I’m serious.”

“Mhm.” He’s sitting up on his elbow, watching you with an infuriating smirk. “You said the same thing last time you drank, too. After you told Rick you could outshoot him blindfolded.”

You groan again, dragging a pillow over your face. “Please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid last night.”

“Oh, nothin’ too stupid,” Daryl says casually, but you can hear the laughter in his voice. “Just threatened to divorce me. You know, normal stuff.”

You freeze under the pillow, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. Slowly, you pull the pillow down just enough to peek out at him. “...What?”

“Yup,” Daryl confirms with a smug grin. “Kicked me out of the house for ‘cheatin’ on you’ with yourself.”

You groan again, throwing the pillow at his face with all the energy you can muster. “Oh my God, shut up.”

He catches the pillow easily, laughing as he sets it aside. “Ain’t lettin’ you live that one down, sweetheart.”

You cover your face with your hands, mortified. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Daryl says with a pop of the ‘p,’ clearly enjoying your misery. “Carol and Rick were real concerned. Thought they’d have to draw up them divorce papers right then and there.”

You peek out from between your fingers, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate you.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead with that same infuriating smirk. “Love you too.”

You try to scowl at him, but it’s hard to stay mad when he’s looking at you like that. Still, you groan and roll over, burying your face in the pillow again. “I’m never drinking again,” you mutter into the fabric.

Daryl chuckles, lying back down beside you and pulling you into his arms. “Sure you aren’t, darlin’. Sure you aren’t.”

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

[nessa-mayfield]

( I'm sorry but "pint sized redneck" got me 😂

It's the cutest & funniest thing to call a baby)

Grow a Uterus and We'll Talk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff, an absurd amount of baby rabies, and fluff. Don’t blame me if y’all get pregnant.

“You lay one finger on me and I’ll bite it off, Dixon.”

You’d done the same damn dance once a month, every month for the past two years, and you were starting to grow annoyed with your boyfriend’s advances.

“Would it really be tha’ bad if we tried it out…just once?” Daryl huffed.

“I don’t know,” you answered, shrugging, “Grow a uterus and we’ll talk.”

The archer playfully lunged at you from across the couch, but you easily side-stepped and took residence at the far end of the room. You reached for a stiletto to throw at his head if he came any closer.

“Still on the baby business, huh?” Carol called as she strode past the living room toward the kitchen.

“Ya know we’d make some damn cute crotch goblins,” Daryl yelled back. You rolled your eyes.

“That isn’t for you to decide, Daryl,” Carol’s voice seemed to toughen, even give him a scolding look from a distance away, “And if you knock her up before she’s ready, I’ll string you up by your balls and feed you to the walkers.”

The woman did not fuck around—and you loved her for it. Presently, you stuck your tongue out at Daryl as if to say, ‘See? I told you so’ and the man simply scowled. Flopped down on the couch and propped his dirty boots up on the coffee table.

“‘Course I wouldn’t try if ye weren’t ready,” he grumbled, “Jus’ wanted you ta consider it.”

You joined him on the couch and nudged his feet off the table.

“Is that why you’ve been parading every baby in Alexandria in my face for the past six months? Hoping I’d ‘consider’ things a little more?” you quipped, raising both eyebrows.

Daryl paused a beat, seemed to chew on his thoughts for a moment or two. Then he offered you a sheepish grin and said,

“Rick and Michonne really need the free childcare.”

You were itching to grab that high heel again. Before you could, though, a sound thundered through your foyer and the front door was thrown open wide. In the blink of an eye, Rick had stumbled through your entryway, passed off his infant to Daryl like a sack of potatoes, and raced back to the door.

“Rick, what the fuck?!” you shouted before he could escape.

“Date night,” Rick answered in a ragged breath, gripping the door frame while he glanced over at Daryl.

Daryl smiled and held Judith to his chest like she might’ve been the most precious thing in the universe. You narrowed your eyes.

“He put you up to this?” you asked, tipping your chin in Daryl’s direction.

Rick didn’t hesitate; he said that he had. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl shooting daggers at his friend. Promptly, Judith pawed at your boyfriend’s stubbled cheeks and babbled.

Sensing the tension in the air, Carol gathered her belongings and contemplated baking her bread elsewhere—or at least give you and Daryl some space to talk. She started toward the door,

“Walk a lady home?” she said to Rick.

Rick shot her a curious look but accepted anyway. Casting a sidelong glance to the man on the couch and the woman who was currently staring him down with an irate look in her eyes—you—he quickly surmised it was in his best interest to leave. Hopefully Judith was too young to catch on to any curse words that might be hurled in the next several minutes.

“Be good, you three,” Rick gave his parting words before following Carol outside. The door crashed shut behind them.

As soon as it had, you were back on your feet and traipsing out of the room.

“Come on,” Daryl whined.

He followed your steps into the kitchen with Judith still cradled in his arms. There was a pregnant pause as you rifled through your cabinets, wordlessly searching for some ingredients to bake whatever pastry it would take to get your mind off the discomfiture of this situation—you decided on muffins, at length.

It wasn’t like you hated babies. You loved their big bald heads and their pudgy, wobbling legs. You loved the way they giggled and smiled and dribbled food all over their fronts. You didn’t even mind the thought of pregnancy; carrying a pint-sized redneck in your belly for nine months wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen. 

It was the world that frightened you most. The thought of a newborn child’s slim chances at surviving a place like this. The fear of that alone was enough to have you fighting that dreadful outcome, tracking your cycle like a hound and fighting Daryl off every month when you knew that day was coming. You’d been pretty successful thus far. But by the looks of the man across the kitchen beaming down at the baby, you weren’t sure how long that winning streak would last.

“Wanna hold her?”

“No.”

“Wanna do her hair?”

“She hasn’t got any.”

Daryl shot you a look of mock indignation and stroked Judith’s head.

“You kiddin’? Little Ass Kicker’s gotta have at least fifteen strands by now,” he retorted, tugging at the short blond tufts as if to prove a point.

Judith smiled a toothless grin up at her Uncle Daryl. You all but had to leave the room to stifle the sounds of your reproductive organs screaming, 'Give that man a baby! NOW!' You clenched your stomach and turned away to start preparing the pans.

Daryl perched Judith on his lap and starting puffing out his cheeks. The infant shrieked with laughter. You assembled the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt together on the counter and sought after a bowl.

“Dada, Dada!” Judith chanted. Trying in earnest to say ‘Daryl’ but ending up sounding like she was calling him dad. You dropped the mixing bowl on the countertop with a clatter.

“Daryl, kiddo, Dar-yl,” your boyfriend tried to teach her, enunciating his name a couple more times.

“Dada!” the little tyke howled again as she fisted his shirt in her fingers.

Milk and oil and— eggs. Where are the eggs?

You tore through the fridge and wanted to sob into the shelves with the sheer force of delirium coursing through your veins. Damn you, Charles Darwin, I am not in a place to be procreating right now.

You tried turning your mind to other things—cooking, crying, contemplating the course of human evolution—but when you turned back with the carton of eggs in hand, you almost sent the dozen of them crashing straight to the floor.

Daryl was pinching her chubby cheeks.

If you weren’t so violently inclined to breed a whole new gaggle of progeny with this man, you probably would’ve chucked an egg at his head.

You sighed as you dropped the last of your cooking supplies on the surface of the kitchen island. You planted your hands flat on the granite and stared shamelessly at the two of them. Daryl was feigning ignorance, tapping Judith’s tiny pink nose with the tip of his finger and watching her giggle. When he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, you spun around to kick the oven door shut and cut the appliance off, immediately.

“Alright, you win, you bastard,” you said in a huff.

Daryl looked up from his present occupation, eyeing you innocently.

“What do you mean, hon—”

You cut him short, raising a finger to halt his speech before starting toward the door.

“Shut up,” you muttered as you headed for the stairs, “Meet me up there in five.”

Daryl deposited Judith in her portable playard in a second’s time and went scrambling up those steps faster than he ever had before. 

Silently, speedily, he thanked every one of his lucky stars and his best friend, Rick Grimes.

[asscaverns]

Long Time Coming - Daryl Dixon x FEM!reader

Synopsis: Reader and Daryl have been together for a long time, but have never been able to have sex. 3.8k words

minors dni/18+

Warnings: smut, fluff. So much praise! Oral f!receiving. Protected sex (kinda? they use a condom but it's expired bc duh). Daryl cums fast. I've never written smut before, I've never published anything either so go easy on me. Probably OOC Daryl. Not great writing, sorry.

“It’s quiet,” Daryl starts from his position on the couch, one of his legs propped up on the coffee table.

“Yeah, it’s a little unsettling. Even back in the prison there was always growling, or Beth singing, or Carol snoring all night,” you joke lightly mimicking her snores. You plopped down on the couch next to him and leaned into him, making him put an arm around your shoulders. “It feels safe though, yeah? Safest I've felt since the outbreak at least,” you wonder out loud, trying to gauge his feelings of your new home. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he pauses. “Just feels like I'm waiting for the shoe, y'know.” 

“The other shoe?” You ask, laying your hand on his knee, glancing up at him.

“Mhm, waitin’ for the shoe to drop.” 

You hum in understanding. “I think. . .” you trailed off thinking of your next words carefully, “I think, there’s no use in just sittin around and waiting. Maybe we should enjoy what we have, while we have it.” 

He sat up and turns to look at you like you were crazy. “And what? What about when these picket fence bastards decide we’re not good enough, we don’t contribute enough, or whatever the hell other reason they decide is fit enough to throw us to the wolves? We just let them blindside us?” he seemed incredulous. 

“No, honey, of course not. I’m just saying,” you take a deep breath trying to make sure you are clear. “This is maybe our last chance, our only chance, to live a life without running from the dead every damn day. We got used to that, it was, or maybe it still is, our new normal, but this can be too.”

“I understand, sweetheart, I'm just. . .” he trails off. 

“Nervous? On edge?” you finish for him after a moment. 

“You could say that,” he answers, picking up a cup of water off the coffee table, taking a sip, and sitting it back down, then leaning back onto the couch and throwing an arm over your shoulder again. 

“I know. You run for your life, hunker down in empty houses, broke down cars, and caves for lord knows how long. Next thing you know, someone offers you not only a home, but a house? To ourselves? And food, water, walls and defenses, plus people patrolling 24/7? It’s a big change, but this is the safest we’ve been for a while. I just think we should enjoy it while we can. We can stay on edge, sleep with a gun under our pillow or whatever, but we should enjoy what we have while we have it. We can live here for a while, when shit hits the fan we can run, like we always have.” 

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right, y/n,” he admits, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Kinda boring though, innit? This whole ‘american dream’ life.” 

You glanced at him and saw a small smile. “Boring?” you giggle, “I can think of something to entertain us.” You slide your hand from your lap over to his, putting your hand back on his knee and sliding it half way up his thigh. 

“Yeah? What’s that sweetheart?” He questions innocently, but you can see the way his cheeks are redder than earlier, and you can see the way he looks at your lips. 

You jumped up and offered him your hand with a wink, “Come with me and I'll show you.”

“Don’ need to ask me twice,” he jumped to his feet, grabbing your hand and letting you lead him up the stairs and into the bathroom. You open the door with your spare hand and spin around pulling at his shirt and winking at him. 

“Oh I get it, you just want to see me naked, don’ ya?” Daryl teased, pulling his t-shirt off. 

“You know I do, baby,” you flirted, grabbing his naked waist and pulling him closer for a moment, before pushing him away and leaning over to start the water, Daryl taking the opportunity to smack your ass. You giggle and turn around with your finger pointed, ready to scold him jokingly, but he grabs your hips before you can. He yanks you into his chest and kisses you hard, trying to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

“At least let me get in the shower first, you horny bastard!” You laugh at him and pull away, yanking your shirt over your head and pulling your pants down and off. You feel the water to test its temperature and upon deciding it warm enough, you turn around to see him still in his pants. You reach towards his belt and pull on it, “You joining? Or are you gonna stand there and watch?” 

“I’m happy to watch but I’d much rather join,” he responds, watching you step into the warm water. He tugs his belt undone and his pants down while you turn and let the water run over you. 

Truth is, you were a little nervous, you knew what you were initiating. Sure you’d spent most of the apocalypse together, started ‘dating’ not long after arriving at the prison. Though you’d never officially talked labels, it’s been long assumed, by you and the rest of the group, that you were together. So, you’ve been ‘together’ a long time, but despite that you’d never really gone farther than oral or handjobs. If you’d had the time, then you hadn’t had the solitude. If you’d had the solitude, then you hadn’t had the safety. If you’d had the safety, then you hadn’t had the time. It had worked out fine, in the midst of the end of the world, sexual frustration wasn’t your biggest concern, you’d go as far as to say it wasn’t even in the top 15. This was your third night alone in Alexandria, your group had all slept in the same house for a while before gradually settling into your own. 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve done this, huh?” you question, rubbing soap all over your body. You feel his arms wrap around you and pull your back to his chest, you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder. 

“You’re sexier every time,” he whispers, nipping at your ear. His hands grab the fat of your hips and grip it to pull you even closer.

“Really? You don’t think I looked better when we were covered in walker guts and months of filth?” You tease him, pushing away and signaling for him to turn his back to you, and begin to clean his back with a soapy towel. 

“You get prettier every day, Y/N, with or without running water,” he hums out, enjoying the soft scratch of the washcloth on his body. It had taken him a long time to get comfortable being this vulnerable, but years of relying on each other has built a trust unlike any other in his life. He trusts you fully, to see him wholly and unfiltered, who he truly was inside and out. 

 Once you both had been scrubbed you wrap your arms around his neck and push him against the wall. You brush your lips over his, testing the waters first. He grabs your face and spins you around, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You moan into his mouth and pull him closer. His arms wind around your waist when his tongue slips into your mouth, your grasp the hair at the base of his neck tightly in your fingers when you feel his leg slot between yours. 

You grind down on his leg and gasp, throwing your head back against the wall. He takes the opportunity to kiss your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking little marks on your collar bones. You feel his hand slide from your waist up your torso to grab at your breast and your hands grab at the strong muscles of his back. He kneads your soft breast before rubbing your nipple with his thumb, he places sloppy kisses on the junction of your neck and down your shoulder. You whimper and grind harder on his leg when he pinches your nipple between his fingers, Daryl kisses back up your neck and puts his hands on either side of your face, pulling it to his to kiss it harshly. 

“Please, Daryl, I want you,” you whimper against his lips, he hums into your mouth and slips his tongue into your mouth. “Daryl, please,” you whine as he willfully ignores your begging. 

You keep kissing, clawing at his back with your short nails, just trying to pull him impossibly closer to you, his arms wrap tight around your waist, holding you down on his leg to help you grind harder against his knee. One of his arms abandons your waist to grab a fistful of your wet hair and he lets it tangle around his fingers, while he kisses you even deeper. 

“You ready to get outta here, pretty girl?” He smirks at you. Before waiting for your answer he shuts the water off, grumbling about how you’re just gonna have to take another one later, and slides open the curtain. Daryl steps out and hands you a towel. 

You rush past him into the bedroom, drying off and discarding your towel, then jumping on your shared bed. He walks in a few moments later, dropping the towel he had wrapped around his waist. You whistle at him teasingly, “How on earth did I get so lucky?” 

He chuckles at you and sits on the bed beside your feet, running his hands up your calf, “I think I should be the one asking that, Y/N.” He crawls up to your body, pressing light kisses from your knees to your neck. If it weren’t for the lust in his eyes and the way he looks at you like you were prettiest damn woman he’s ever seen you might feel insecurity creeping in.

Daryl pecks your mouth, leaving you chasing his mouth until kisses back down your stomach, notching himself between your thighs. He peppers kisses all over the inside of your thighs, avoiding the one place you’re needing him the most. He finally caves, running his thumb up your slit, brushing away the soft hair that covers your cunt. 

“You’re the sexiest damn woman I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, not giving you a chance to respond before he dives in, placing one long lick from your hole to your clit. The surprise movement leaves you gasping and squeezing his head between his thighs, which he softly pushes away. He does another long lick before focusing on your clit, alternating between gentle licks and circling it with his tongue. He wraps his lips around it and sucks, smiling when he hears you whimpering above him. He goes back to gentle licks and sucks, Daryl moves farther south until licking at our hole, he looks up at you for approval and instead sees a sight so beautiful he wonders what he did to deserve this. You, your back arched the perfect amount for him to see the soft expanse of your stomach leading to your breasts that were pushed into the air, one hand grasping clumsily at one of them, pulling at your nipple. With the image of you and your salty taste on his tongue he swore he could bust right then and there. 

Daryl pushes his tongue into your hole, the mix of your wetness and his saliva creating a mess of your groin. He fucks his tongue into you, soft and steady. 

It’s so much, his wet tongue sliding in and out of you, his hands gripping your thighs, his nose nudging your clit every now and then. It was too much and not enough. You gasp out, “Oh, my god, Daryl,” between your moans and heavy breathing. “D, you feel so good, I need more, please.” 

He moves one hand from your thigh up to your mouth, pulling away to whisper, “suck on my fingers, baby.” You oblige, leaning forward eagerly to pull his thick fingers into your mouth and moan around them when he uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh. He fucks his fingers in and out of your mouth, coming up to press his mouth to yours, his tongue mingles with yours around his fingers. He pulls his fingers out and drops them to your cunt, using them to circle your clit, then sliding one inside of you, swallowing your gasps and moans in your shared kiss. He works his second finger into your pussy and abandons your lips to kiss down your chest, stopping to suck a nipple into his mouth briefly, but then continuing all the way back to your clit. Your hands grasp at his hair and push his face into your cunt, his tongue going back to playing with your clit while his eyes flicker up to see yours squeezed shut and mouth hanging open in ecstasy. Your hands wind in his hair so you have something to hold on to, his tongue and fingers making your head swim. He could ask you anything right now and you’d do it in a heartbeat as long as he didn’t stop. His fingers stretched you open just right and the drag of his knuckles in your pussy had you gasping for air. 

His fingers were fucking into you hard enough in just the right spot that you were breathless, gasping each time they hit that spot. He groaned against your cunt and it left you whining and grinding against him, his spare arm wrapped around your hips drawing you even closer and holding you still against his mouth. He pulled away from you, protests falling from your lips at his withdrawal, “You’re doin’ so good for me, Y/N, sound so fuckin’ pretty. Perfect little cunt too, you know how much I love eating your pussy, don’ ya, baby?’ He draws, pressing more kisses and sucking little marks against the sensitive parts of your thighs, while his fingers slowly thrust in and out of you. You hum in response, hands trying to pull his head back to where you want- no need him most. “I want you to tell me, Y/N, tell me what you want,’ He insists, his dark, brown eyes boring into yours. 

“You- you know what I want, honey,” you reply, face heating up, suddenly feeling almost bashful at your desperation for your partner. He pulls his fingers out of you at your less-than-satisfactory response. 

“Oh, I do, baby, trust me,” he insists. “But I need to hear you say it. I want to hear you. Don’t go getting shy on me now. There’s no reason to, I know you love when I give you head, you know how much I adore buryin’ my head between your sexy thighs, feeling them squeeze me while i devour you,” he pauses to slide his fingers back into you, smiling at your quiet moan. “Hell, you should see the mess my cock is makin’ down here, leaking all over the blanket I just washed. I’m humping the bed like a damn virgin while I’m tongue deep in your pussy, sweetheart. I can feel how close you are, clenchin’ like a vice on my fingers. Now I’d love to have you make a mess on my face, but I want you to tell me what you want first. No need in getting all bashful, sweetheart, we’ve been here a dozen times before. Want to see your pretty face when you tell me, too.”

You lean up on your elbows, head foggy with need. “Daryl, I need you to make me cum, make me- make me cum all over your face,” you manage to stutter out. “Then, I need you to fuck-” your words are interrupted by a broken gasp as he dives back in, licking and sucking at your clit for all his worth. Your arms give out from behind making you drop onto your back, arching it and trying to wriggle your hips against his hold and let out breathless praises for the man eating you out like his life depends on it. 

“Fuck! Daryl, you make me feel so good,” you gasp out when he goes back to licking circles on your clit. His fingers are curling into you just right, his tongue is circling your clit perfectly, your mind is buzzing and all you can think about is him. You feel your orgasm creeping up, warmth building and muscles tightening.  “I- I’m so close, I-, oh my god, just like that, baby. Fuck, Daryl, please!” 

You let out more whimpers and moans, a few nearly incoherent begs, although what you were begging for was unclear, all you knew is that you were so, so close to cumming on the fingers of the man you loved more than anything. Your fingers tighten their grip on his hair, which makes him groan into you and grind harder against the blanket under him, the vibrations of his groan make you buck your hips, so he tightens his hold on you. He was lapping at your cunt like it was water and he was dying of thirst. His fingers are pressing harder into you with every little thrust and you’re sobbing out as your orgasm finally washes over you. You can feel the pleasure wash over your body, making chills erupt all over you, the heat that’s been building in your core finally explodes and you’re shaking all over, back almost arching off the bed as he keeps lapping at you. You cunt is milking his fingers, legs shaking around his head as you moan out little gasps of his name. His fingers fuck you through the shock waves of your orgasm, but he doesn’t stop his movements. Your moans turn into little high pitched gasps when he pulls his fingers out of you once you stop pulsing around them, only to slide his tongue into your opening and fuck into you. It’s all too much, you can feel the rough drag of stubble on your soft inner thighs and his harsh grip on your ass as you come back down to reality. He finally lets up when you start to pull away from him and your grip on his hair loosens. He pulls away from you, his face glistening in the soft moon light peering in from the window. You grab at the back of his head and yank him into a rough kiss, tongues clash and the taste of your fluids on his lips and tongue make you moan into his mouth again. 

“You’re too good for me, Daryl, honestly. You’re so good with your mouth, I’d let you eat me out for hours,” you breathlessly praise him once he pulls away to catch his breath, letting his forehead rest on yours. 

“That can be arranged, darling,” he muses, starting to lower himself back to your pussy. 

“No! No, not right now. I need you. I need more of you. I want your cock, please, Daryl,” you stutter, desperation fogging your brain. “Lay down, let me blow you.”

“No, sunshine, I’m not gonna last that long,” he insists, hissing when your hand wraps around his aching dick, using his own precum to stroke loosely. You reach into your bedside drawer for the condoms you had placed there a few days ago, they were past the expiration date, but it’s not like you can find any new ones any more, you had both decided you might as well try to use the protection. 

“You sure?” You ask, looking at him with hooded eyes, licking your lips and ripping open the condom. 

“Yes, Y/N,” he affirms. You slide the condom down his length and then use that hand to guide his cock to your entrance. 

You can’t help but notice his shaky breath and the way his hands are shaking beside your head, “Daryl, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop now, we can go to bed, or I can jerk you off, if you’d rather wait.” 

“I want to fuck ya, it’s just. . .” he trails off. 

“Been a long time?” You finish for him. He nods to confirm your suspicion. 

Before you can respond he begins to push into you, your pussy aching as he stretches you out, feeling every vein of his cock as it fills you up to the hilt. Above you, he’s grunting, arms damn near giving out as he rests most of his weight on you. He’s grunting into your ear, muttering a quiet “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he adjusts to the tightness of your pussy around him, as you grind and squeeze against him, your body begging for me. 

“Hey, sunshine, look at me,” he’s leaning back to look you in the eye, once he got his bearings He brushes the hair out of your eyes, presses a kiss to your nose. “You feel good, better than I coulda imagined.” 

“Please, Daryl.”

In lieu of a response, he crashes his lips on yours. Pulling out almost completely and pushing back in with a broken moan, your hand flies to his hair as he begins to rut into you. Short, fast thrusts that leave you gasping with your arms tight around his shoulders. He slows his pace when your nails start to scratch down his back. “I-I’m not gonna last long, y/n,” he moans, pulling all the way back and then thrusting back into you hard. 

“That’s perfect, baby, please, that’s all I want. Jus’ want to make you feel good, yeah?” You pant out. Your legs wrapped tightly around him, his thrusts hitting so deep inside of you, you were seeing stars, his hips pushing flush against your own, you could feel his balls slap against your ass. He drops his head to kiss and suck on your neck, you tighten around him and reach down to rub our clit. 

Daryl’s moans and thrusts get more erratic, a sign you know means he’s close. “Fuck, baby, I-” he gasps out. 

“I know, I know, me too.” 

“I’m sorry, you just feel so damn good-” 

“Shut up and let me feel you cum inside of me,” you demand, your voice breathless and broken, he’s stretching you out so nicely and you’re rubbing fast, eager circles on our clit. “Oh- I- I’m cumming. Oh, my god, fuck! I love you so much, Daryl.” 

The rhythmic squeezing of your tight pussy and your blissed out face sent him straight over the edge, he was grunting into you as you both rode out your highs. 

Minutes later he was catching his breath, his legs shaking. “Was that worth the wait?” You joked. He laughed at you and slipped out, shaking his head at your sound of disappointment. Daryl pulled the condom off and threw it in the bin across the room. 

In the morning he awoke before you, the sun shining across your pretty hair, he could see your relaxed face, your tits sticking out of the blanket. He wondered what he ever did to deserve this, to deserve you. He’d fight through a dozen apocalypses if it meant being with you. 

[careol]

i'm spoiling something for everyone in a fit of rage

but i am not vibing with their total destruction of daryl in his own spin off. he is so ooc its actually gross. they're pursuing the stupid love story between him and the nun, and he's going to kiss her. i'm not at all jazzed about that. carol flies across the fucking ocean to look for him and he's going to kiss a young blonde nun? it's bullshit, and personally i think they need to stop making him get together with younger blondes. its stupid, and its insanely out of character because daryl needs a lot of emotional connection before he even fathoms a relationship. and they're just like oh here it's been like maybe two months lets have him fall in love with this strange woman who was literally a nun.

i hate everything.