#twd the other side

[transsexual-necromutilomaniac]

i have such sick and twisted thoughts about their dymamic

[astrocafecoffee]

Mars observation ❤️‍🔥

* FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY, ENJOY*

( nevermind i am a TWD fan 💀)

🔥Mars in Capricorn tends to be so serious about their goals that they can come off as a little work-obsessed, but what most people don’t realize is that they have a soft spot for organizing little surprises for the people they care about. Whether it’s a secret birthday party or planning a perfectly timed gift, they’ll go to great lengths to ensure everything goes smoothly and they’ll do it with military-like precision. They love being the quiet mastermind behind the scenes, and the joy of seeing someone’s reaction is their reward.

🔥Instead of the traditional, action packed Mars energy, Mars in Pisces will often take a dream driven approach to goals. They might “daydream” their way through challenges, letting their imagination be the guide. They’ll spend a lot of time visualizing what they want, sometimes way too much and this often leads them to unexpected, highly creative solutions. If you're ever stuck on something, they’re probably the person who will suggest a completely off-the-wall idea that turns out to be genius in a roundabout way!

🔥Mars in Virgo’s love of efficiency and perfectionism can make them amazing cooks (even if they don't always admit it). They might not go for extravagant recipes, but give them a few ingredients, and they’ll whip up something incredibly delicious and perfectly balanced. They’ll even have a system for how to chop vegetables just right. It’s like a cooking ritual for them every step is part of the process. And they’ll never follow a recipe without tweaking it to make it just a little more efficient.

🔥Mars in Scorpio is famous for their ability to keep secrets not just their own, but others as well. They have a natural talent for holding on to information, and they’re not the type to spill the beans unless it serves a higher purpose. This ability to stay quiet even when they know things is both enchanting and slightly mysterious. But sometimes, they might hold on to information a bit too tightly, keeping their own emotions and thoughts hidden to the point where it can be a bit... overwhelming for others to navigate.

🔥Mars in Libra is gentle, polite, and often hesitant to create waves, but once they’ve decided to defend someone they care about, their protective side comes out in full force. They’ll step in without hesitation, but they’ll do it with such grace and subtlety that it won’t even look like they’re “defending” anyone at all. It’s like watching a charming diplomat put their foot down without ever raising their voice. You’ll only realize how strong their loyalty is when the situation is already over, and you’re left in awe of how they handled it.

🔥Mars in Aries has a strong sense of personal initiative, and they love jumping in to help other especially when they feel their “help” is needed. But,they often step in without being asked, sometimes even when it’s not necessary. They’ll see a person struggling with something and swoop in to save the day, even if that person had everything under control. It’s like the classic “I’ve got this” attitude...

🔥Mars in Taurus doesn’t like being pushed or rushed into making decisions or taking action. If you try to hurry them up, they will likely dig in their heels. But If someone tells them they can’t do something or that they’re taking too long, Mars in Taurus will often react by going into overdrive to prove the naysayer wrong. It’s like they didn’t want to be rushed, but now that you’ve challenged them, they’re going to do it perfectly and on their own time. It’s not about speed ,it’s about showing they can do it right.

🔥Mars in Leo is all about action, but sometimes beneath all that bold confidence is a soft, sentimental side. They may not always show it, but they do care deeply about the people and things they love. They’ll take pride in making memories, creating meaningful traditions, and doing grand gestures for those they care about. It might not always be obvious, but they have a way of expressing love through actions that can melt your heart.

🔥Mars in Gemini doesn’t usually want to feel too tied down or dependent, even in close relationships. While they enjoy companionship and conversations, they often need their independence and space to explore other ideas or activities. This doesn’t mean they aren’t invested, it just means their expression of affection may be more cerebral and less physical or emotional.

🔥People often misunderstand Mars in Cancer as fragile or overly sensitive, but in truth, their emotional depth gives them lasting resilience. They know how to protect themselves emotionally and are often much more psychologically tough than they appear. They may retreat into their shells to recharge, but they bounce back with an inner strength that is built on emotional wisdom and a deep understanding of what it means to nurture and care for others.

🔥Mars in Sagittarius has a natural skepticism about traditional authority and systems, and they may challenge ideas that feel too rigid or dogmatic. This can sometimes make them seem rebellious or contrary, as they want to explore ideas and beliefs outside the mainstream. While they are driven by a quest for truth, they can often appear dismissive of conventional wisdom, favoring instead a more personal, adventurous approach to discovering what works for them.

🔥Mars in Aquarius often comes across as cool, aloof, or even emotionally detached, but this doesn’t mean they lack deep feelings. Instead, their emotional depths are often hidden beneath their rational, progressive exterior. They feel deeply for social issues, injustices, and global problems, but they may not express these feelings in a conventional emotional way.

🔥 Mars in 1°/13°/ 25° people might find themselves competing with authority figures rather than working alongside them. They don’t like being told what to do and can have a hard time submitting to control.

🔥 Mars in 2°/ 14°/ 26° people might not make a lot of noise about their intentions, but their actions speak louder than words. They influence people not by being outspoken, but through their reliability, consistency, and practicality.

🔥 Mars in 3°/15°/ 27° people can be incredibly sharp-tongued or enjoy debating especially when they know they can outwit someone. They don’t need to raise their voice or make physical moves to assert dominance. Their words and ideas are their primary weapons, and they can often win a battle simply by being the most articulate or quick-witted in the room.

🔥 Mars in 4°/16°/28° people often avoids direct confrontation. They might be more comfortable retreating into their shell or expressing their frustrations through passive means rather than engaging in a full-blown argument.

🔥 Mars in 5°/17°/29° people often seek validation and admiration, they often push themselves to be the best at what they do, which can lead them to overwork or overexert themselves in their pursuits. If their output does not meet their high standards, they may feel disappointed or frustrated, even if others don’t see the imperfections.

🔥 Mars in 6°/ 18° people excels in roles that involve mentorship or coaching. Their ability to break down complex tasks into manageable steps and their focus on efficiency makes them great at guiding others toward success. They may not be the loudest voice in the room, but their leadership comes through their quiet, behind the scenes contributions that ensure everything runs smoothly.

🔥 Mars in 7°/19° people deep fear of disharmony or discord in relationships. This can sometimes lead them to avoid direct confrontation or suppress their own needs to keep the peace. Bro don't do it, just communicate otherwise you will feel burnt out at some point.

🔥 Mars in 8°/ 20° people may struggle with vulnerability. They are often fearful of exposing their true selves to others, and instead, they prefer to remain in a position of power and control. They only reveal certain parts of themselves to a select few.

🔥 Mars in 9°/21° people often has a constant feeling of restlessness, which can lead them to never feel truly satisfied with where they are. They are often driven by the idea that there is always more to discover, both in the world and in themselves. This can create a sense of unsettledness, even when things are going well in their lives, as they crave new experiences and growth opportunities.

🔥 Mars in 10°/ 22° people dislike waste, especially when it comes to their time and resources. Mars in Capricorn individuals are extremely efficient, preferring to channel their energy only into pursuits that have long-term value. This is why they are often great at building sustainable and lasting success.

🔥 Mars in 11°/23° people tends to reject routine, as their focus is always on new possibilities and big ideas. They can become irritated or disengaged by repetitive or mundane tasks. If they find themselves stuck in a routine, they may feel a lack of motivation or creativity, and may even sabotage their own efforts to avoid falling into boredom.

🔥when Mars in 12°/ 24° people feel emotionally invested in a cause or a person, they may find it hard to draw clear lines between their personal energy and the other person’s needs. This blurring of boundaries can lead to emotional overwhelm, especially if their drive and energy are used for causes that don’t allow for personal fulfillment or rest.

Thanks for reading.....

- PIKO 💖

[xoxo-sarah]

A Chance

My Wife part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

↝pairing: Season1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: things are rough between Daryl and Reader, death, cursing, arguing, walkers, ect. The usual twd stuff, angst, reader wears Daryl's clothes ( but as a big girl myself, we can just ignore how he's a twig and that's most likely unrealistic 🫡), not proofread

↝⎙ 1.30.25

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

Daryl Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Daylight broke and Andrea hadn't moved.

Daryl grumbled about Amy turning, but you quickly shot him down each time. People grieve in different ways. Andrea knew what she had to do when the time came.

"Y'all can't be serious." Daryl huffed, watching Andrea through squinted eyes, "Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a time-bomb." He seethed.

"Daryl," You glared up at him, rubbing the scratch on your upper arm. "Don't be insensitive."

"We ain't got time for this." He seethed, glaring back at you.

You stood, "She lost her sister, not her smarts. She knows what to do."

He stepped closer, putting his weight on one leg, slightly slouching to be eye level with you. Maybe he was trying to be intimidating, but it didn't work. You had seen the dark, sad parts of him. He will never be able to scare you or berate you with actions or words. "And if she don't?"

"What do you suggest?"Rick questioned Daryl, stopping the oncoming argument.

Daryl stepped closer to Rick, bringing his fingers to his temple, "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," Lori spoke up, "For God's sake, let her be."

Dary scoffed before walking off. In turn, you eyed the back of Andrea's head. She knew what she had to do, right? You hoped so.

Pulling your eyes away from her, you looked around at all of the bodies. Most were people who you had just seen, laughing and eating. Others were the dead that had wandered from the city.

Shutting your eyes, your hand automatically went to your wrist, the tightly woven thread helping to ground you. Your fingers traveled down to your left hand, the wedding ring soothing against your fingertips, a contrast to the thick thread of the collar/ bracelet on your wrist.

Daryl looked up as he helped drag a body across the ground. He watched you, watched your movements; a desperate search for comfort.

- time skip -

Daryl stomped away, not understanding why Amy and Jim were not being taken care of. They were "ticking time bombs". They were liabilities. In the new world, there was not time to grieve. Sneering at the thought, he yanked the tent flap back, watching you jump, immediately wiping under your eyes.

His eyes trailed over you in the silence of the moment. You needed comforting. He wanted to comfort you. He really did. But he had a feeling those tears were his doing. He shouldn't have taken his frustration out on you, knowing you had witnessed something horrific.

The tent opening fell down as he walked away.

Your hands instantly went back to your face, muffling the sobs that raked your body.

-

Sweat had mixed with the dirt and grime, caking your skin as you helped bury the bodies. The bright sun beat down, causing you to squint.

Daryl kept an eye on you from a distance. Neither of you had uttered a word to each other since the morning. You were both too stubborn.

Backing his truck up, bodies in the bed of it, Daryl caught sight of you looking up through the side mirrors. Just as quickly, you looked away and got back to digging, ignoring Rick and Shane's argument to your left. Turning the truck off, Daryl jumped out, slamming the door.

He made his way to where you, Rick, and Shane were digging holes for the friends you had light the night prior. "I still think it's a mistake not burning these bodies. It's what we said we'd do, right? Burn 'em all, wasn't that the idea?"

"At first."

Daryl scoffed, "The Chinaman gets all emotional, says it's not the thing to do, we just follow 'em along? These people need to know who the hell's in charge here- what the rules are."

"And who the hell's in charge, Daryl? It sure as hell ain't you."

Daryl scoffed again, watching as you glared at him, waiting for him to reply, from where you had jumped down in a freshly dug hole.

"There are no rules." Rick countered Daryl's statement.

"Well, that's a problem." Lori walked past Daryl's truck, children and their mothers behind her. "We haven't had one moment to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn, and we need to bury our dead. It's what people do." With that, she turned and walked away, not caring to hear what anyone thought about that.

-

Feeling disgusting, you had made your way back to the tent. Not having any clothes, you opted for something of Daryl's. His cut shirts weren't ideal, but they were cooling and non-restricting. His old work pants fit loose, but that's not anything string couldn't fix.

Buttoning the second to last button of the dingy shirt, you heard the opening of the tent begin to unzip. You moved to cover yourself, but ultimately relaxed when Daryl stepped in. He looked up, scanning your body before glancing behind himself, making sure nobody had seen you changing from over his shoulder. He zipped the flap back up, before simply standing there. He was slightly hunched over, as were you, thanks to the small tent.

It was silent.

Your fingers went back to the button, as you ignored your husband's presence.

Daryl moved closer, standing behind you. The air around you two changed. His head fell to your shoulder, his own grime mixing with yours. He stayed there, vulnerable. This was his way of apologizing.

Your body relaxed further, sinking back into him. His arms snaked around your middle, holding you close.

"It's okay." You whispered, only loud enough for him to hear, and not to disturb this newfound peaceful atmosphere. He nodded, moving his hands to your hips, turning you around. His fingers made quick work of buttoning the last button for you.

-

The next morning, everyone was getting ready to leave for the C.D.C. Rick was out in the field, talking to a man named Morgan, the guy who had saved Rick’s life. Lori, Carol, and the kids were helping to load everything into cars. You helped Daryl load up his truck. Hopping onto the tailgate, you helped pull Daryl’s bike up, gently laying it on the truck bed.

“Are ya willin’ to put your life in his hands?” Daryl helped you jump down, glancing at Rick in the distance. Daryl was looking to you for answers. You were always the more level-headed of the two. Daryl would follow you into fire, he’d follow you to the end of the world. And you just might be doing that.

“I think you have to hope there’s a safe place out there. If we don’t hope for it, then we won’t get it. Hope is all we’ve got.” You patted his chest, before walking by him. He watched you, before slamming the rusted tailgate closed.

-

The wind blew through your hair, cooling your face. Daryl drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other near his mouth as he nipped at his fingernails. The leg that was not being used for the gas and brake pedals slightly shook, a trailer to his nerves. You rode in silence.

“”M sorry–‘bout yesterday.” He spoke up first, biting his thumb nail. You turned your head, looking at his side-profile. He didn’t dare to glance at you.

“I know. I am too. We were both on edge; said some things. It’s alright.”

He nodded, pulling his thumb from his mouth. “Ya think Merle’s alright?”

You thought about it. Daryl had told you what they found on the roof and what they had run into.

“I think he’s a tough fucker to kill.” Daryl let out an entertained huff, “He had enough energy to steal the van, so there’s a high chance he’s okay…maybe.”

Daryl let your words marinate. Letting out a deep exhale, he swapped hands on the wheel, placing his right one of your knee. You moved closer to him, placing your hand over his.

-

Guilt was eating at you.

You had all left Jim under a tree. Sure, it was per his request, but that didn’t stop the shame bubbling in your gut. Even miles from where he sat, you had a frown on your face, thinking of him. The turning was inevitable. But the thought of him having to sit there and deal with the feeling of his bones being made of glass, cutting into him with the slightest move, having to deal with that all on his own, hurt you.

Daryl felt the tension in the truck. You sat closer to the door, hands in your lap.

His hand moved toward the radio, before cursing himself. That wouldn’t work in the apocalypse

Grumbling, he leaned over, opening the glove box and blindly digging through. Pulling a cassette tape out, he plucked it into the truck, twisting the volume knob.

It’s what Jim wanted, you kept reminding yourself. But it didn’t make you feel any better about yourself. You just hoped he wasn’t in pain for much longer.

-

Daryl tapped your arm, watching you blink awake. The melody had settled you to a light slumber. Still groggy from sleep, you took in your surroundings. For a moment, you forgot that the world went to shit. The sky was turning a dark orange, sun setting in the distance. But as you sat up in the seat, you could see the bodies on the ground, bugs buzzing above them.

“Wanna get out?” Daryl stared at you as you looked at the huge building through the windshield. Even more bodies laid in front of the building, flies swarming them. Some bodies were mindlessly wandering around.

This was the C.D.C?

Without giving a response, you opened your door, jumping out. Daryl followed, grabbing his crossbow and a shotgun from the floorboard. Walking around the truck, he pressed the gun to your side, getting your attention. You grabbed it and began following everyone to the building.

The stench alone almost had you hurling.

“Alright, everybody,” Shane began whispering, “Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let’s go.”

The constant buzzing of flies and the horrible smell of decay just might be your own personal hell.

Finally, you were a few feet from the building. Rick and Shane beat on the roll-up doors.

“There’s nobody here.” T-Dog swayed on his feet, turning to look over his shoulder every few seconds.

“Then why are these shutters down?” Rick was holding onto hope; he had to.

“Walkers!” Daryl pulled you by the arm, putting you behind him.

Children screamed, guns cocked, feet shuffled.

“You led us into a graveyard!” Daryl turned, making his way toward Rick. His nostrils flared. Fury behind his eyes.

You stepped in front of him, separating him and what he wanted to do out of anger and frustration.

“He made a call!” Dale interjected.

Daryl rounded you, “It was the wrong damn call!”

Shane stopped Daryl. “Just shut up. You hear me? Shut. Up. Shut up!” He pushed Daryl back, pointing at him.

You quickly walked over, grabbing Daryl’s shoulder before the whole thing could escalate.

Shane turned, walking back to Rick, who still stood at the shutters. “Rick, this is a dead end.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Carol held onto her daughter, but was ignored.

Night was blanketing the sky–fast. You could barely see where the cats were parked from where you stood.

Shane continued, “Do you hear me? No blame.”

Lori acknowledged Carol, “She’s right. We can’t be here, this close to the city after dark.”

“Fort Benning, Rick-still an option.”

“On what?” Andrea stepped forward, glowering. “No food, no fuel. That’s 100 miles.”

“125. I checked the map.” Glenn corrected.

Carl clung to Lori’s legs. She stared at her husband, “Forget Fort Benning! We need answers tonight, now.”

“We’ll think of something.” Rick tried, not meeting his wife’s eyes.

“C’mon!” “Let’s go!” “Let’s get out of here!” Everyone began to make their way back to the vehicles, “Alright, everybody back to the cars. Let’s go, move.”

“The camera– It moved!”

“You imagined it.”

“It. Moved.” Rick didn’t think anything of Dale’s words, walking closer to the camera near the doors. “It moved.”

“Rick, man. It’s an automated device. It’s gears, okay? They’re just winding down. Now come on. Man, just listen to me.” Shane grabbed Rick by his upper arm, trying to drag him away. “Look around this place. It’s dead, okay? It’s. Dead. You need to let it go, Rick!”

Rick pushed Shane off, going to the shutters and beating against them again. He stared up into the camera.

“Rick! There’s nobody here!” Lori yelled.

Rick ignored her, “I know you can hear me!”

Shane began ushering everyone back to the cars. “Everybody get back to the cars, now!”

Rick didn’t budge. “Please, we’re desperate. Please help us.” He begged, “We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left.”

Lori thrusted Carl onto you, seeing as you were the closest to her, and ran over to Rick. She grabbed him. “Rick-”

“We have nowhere else to go-”

“There’s nobody here.”

Rick continued to pound on the doors.

Carl clung tighter to you.

“Keep your eyes open.” Shane ordered.

“If you don’t let us in, you’re killing us! Please!” Rick yelled at the top of his lungs.

Shane went over, pushing Lori away and grabbing Rick by his shoulders. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

Carl pushed himself closer to you, hearing his father so desperate but to no avail.

Rick fought against getting dragged back, still staring into the camera, “Please help us.”

People shouted. Carl’s tears soaked into your /Daryl’s/ pants.

“You’re killing us! YOU’RE KILLING US!”

Shane shoved Rick away, watching his face crumble.

“You’re killing us.”

Your eyes widened, holding Carl closer, as a bright light nearly blinded you. The shutters opened, rolling up slowly. A hissing echoed. Everyone gawked, not knowing what to do.

“Daryl, you cover the back.” Shane ordered. Carl let go, running to his mother.

You cocked your gun, joining Daryl. He glanced at you, a questioning gaze set on you. You simply blinked at him, in shock.

Everyone walked toward the light, looking around and gawking at the interior. It smelt clean, a contrast to the horrid, rotting smell outside.

“Hello? Hello?!”

“Close those doors.”

“Watch for walkers.”

“Hello?”

A gun cocking had the group readying themselves, wildly looking around for the source.

A man stood in the shadows, gun in hand. “Anybody infected?”

“One of our group was. He didn’t make it.” Rick answered the unknown man.

“Why are you here?” The man stepped forward, “What do you want?” He put the gun down, looking at all of your grime-covered faces.

“A chance.”

Part 4

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I do NOT give permission!]

[mrdixon]

keeping quiet

daryl dixon x f!reader

masterlist summary: after weeks of having no time to each other, you decide to try and keep it down with your husband. warnings: 18+ content, established relationship, fluffy daddy daryl, two chaotic children of your own, married couple banter, handjobs (both receiving), oral (m. receiving), daryl’s hand is over readers mouth for like ever, unprotected p in v, creampie, probably terrible and incoherent but idcccc word count: 5.7k a/n: i love established relationship papa daryl sorry not sorry. also sidenote (incase there is confusion): i love love love lydia in twd and have since decided i would be naming my future daughter lydia, so i did go ahead and name reader’s daughter lydia… lowkey tipsy writing this so apologies for any errors or extra freakiness. also unedited and definitely not proofread and im too tired to care so enjoy this while i crawl back into hiding…

It was a humid August evening and you were at your wits end, dealing with children was hard, add heat to the mix and you were pretty much ready to clock out of mothering for the day.

Daryl, your doting husband, decided to lessen your load (after coming home and seeing your toddler covered in flour) and take over for the night time routine.

Finally with time to yourself, you brewed yourself some tea and did some skincare in the privacy and comfort of your shared bedroom. Daryl had so kindly gotten you a new pajama set while on a run since you had been complaining about not having something nice to sleep in for a few weeks, and he wasn’t about to let his wife be upset.

Daryl was in the main bathroom giving your toddler, Lydia, a bubble bath before bed since she had gotten into the pantry and made a huge mess (which he cleaned as well). You felt bad for him because he had just been out in the Virginian heat for eight hours fighting off walkers and whatnot, and now he had to deal with sticky fingers and crying children, but he insisted with a firm forehead kiss after seeing your distress and decided this would be a great time to bond with his kids.

You were sipping your tea in your bedroom and figured things were going well. There was no screaming, no crying, and no loud mysterious bangs from the opposite end of the house so you figured Daryl had it under control.

Oh, how wrong you were.

A couple peaceful moments later you could hear your son, Oliver, sprint down the hallway with thumping footsteps which soon stopped after crashing into something. Your body tensed as silence fell over the house, not even the mice in the walls moved. Eventually, the five year old burst into tears and you bristled at the sound.

Putting your teacup down, you made your way outside to comfort your son but was surprised to see Daryl already crouched by him, brushing his thumbs over Oliver’s cheeks. It seemed he had been playing with his trucks and wasn’t watching where he was going, which ended up in him running head first into the edge of the couch.

You watched as Daryl soothed Oliver quietly and rubbed his hand over his head gently, your gaze slowly dragging over to the open bathroom door. It felt like cold water splashed onto you as you realized Daryl had left Lydia alone in the bathtub, and your motherly instincts kicked in and you sprinted towards the bathroom.

Daryl was caught off guard by your sudden movement and turned to watch you, fear etched into your expression as you dashed into the bathroom. But of course, Daryl was smart enough to have Lydia in shallow water so she wouldn’t drown. You exhaled in relief as you watched the two year old splash around with her toys in the soapy water, and wiped a hand over your forehead.

Your husband slowly appeared at your side holding Oliver’s hand and gently rubbed your back, “you wanna put ‘im to bed while I get her ready?”

You turned to look at Daryl with slight exhaustion in your eyes before glancing down at your sniffling son before nodding. He gave a gentle kiss to your temple before handing off your son to you. Daryl walked over to the tub and pinched your daughter’s cheek before informing her it was time to get out, you smiled softly before switching your attention to your son and brought him to his room.

Down the hall you could hear Lydia’s squealing giggles and your heart warmed in happiness, and at the same time Oliver squeezed your hand. You felt so incredibly lucky to have such an amazing family despite them tiring you out.

As Oliver climbed into his bed, you crouched down on the floor and brushed your hand over his forehead. Your heart ached at the feeling of a small bump forming and you frowned, a little upset your son had been reckless.

“Oli… you’ve got to be more careful,” you murmured softly, his pout matching yours. He just blinked groggily and nodded, closing his eyes.

“I know mama,” he mumbled and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked. Pitiful yes, but oh so cute with his little frown and sleepy voice.

You hummed a little tune as you brought the blanket snuggly over his small body, kissing his forehead once you stood up. “Goodnight sweetheart,” you whispered and quietly walked out.

As you closed the door, you could hear a quiet “night mama” and smiled before shutting the door. You padded down the hallway and passed by Lydia’s room, peering through the crack in the door and saw Daryl dressing your daughter. A rush of warmth flooded through you as you heard the soft tone he was using with her, so tender and adoring. Of course he loved both your children equally, but you can tell he favoured her slightly more. Lydia was her father’s girl and you were totally okay with always being second place to her.

“No more making messes hm?” Daryl murmured to Lydia after putting her jammies on and began to dry her hair, “gotta stop givin’ yer mama trouble.” Your smile softened and stopped by the door a little longer to listen to them.

Lydia babbled, “I have fun.”

“’m sure ya do sweetheart,” Daryl laughed softly, “but yer tirin’ out yer mama.” Lydia just shrugged as clueless toddlers do and you could hear Daryl huff out in amusement.

You decided to head back to your bedroom since Daryl started to put Lydia down for bed, and once you got into the room, you blew out the candles on your nightstand. Your tea, now lukewarm, was waiting for you on the nightstand and you chugged down the remainder of the cup.

You were just fluffing up your pillow when Daryl entered the bedroom quietly. You paused and turned to look at him, noticing the exhaustion in his body. He glanced up at you and gave a weary smile before walking over, his footsteps muted on the carpet you’d chosen to decorate the room with.

“Hey baby,” he murmured, embracing you with his big, strong arms. “Ya feelin’ alrigh’?”

You smiled softly against his shoulder and melted in his grasp, your chests pressed close enough to feel each other’s heartbeat. A large hand stroked your back soothingly and rid you of any mental ailments you were feeling as of late, but you could also feel his sleepiness in his touch.

You tucked your face into his neck and responded with a soft brush of your lips against his skin, “bit tired… Thanks for taking care of the kids tonight, know you had a busy day.”

“My job ‘s to help ya,” he shook his head against yours, swaying your bodies. “Don’ matter if I did a lot today.” You didn’t say anything and just hummed in response, allowing him to hold you in silence for a little while.

It had been a while since the two of you had a moment alone together, and a moment of quiet that is, so you both took advantage of the silence. Daryl’s fingers drummed softly against the small of your back and his free hand held the back of your head, cradling you close. You appreciated this, appreciated him. Daryl was the everything you could’ve dreamed for in a husband and father to your children, and you felt so unbelievably lucky to have met him.

The hand on your head began to stroke your hair softly and you felt him start to pull away. His hands cupped either side of your face and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and then gave you a little pat on the bum before walking over to the bathroom.

“Go lie down, I’ll join ya in a minute.” His soft rumble had you yearning for more contact, not wanting the moment to end yet.

With a quiet sigh, you followed his slight command and reached for your pillow to continue fluffing it. You could hear him move around behind the closed bathroom door and you were glad to have influenced him to take care of himself more, not that he didn’t before, but it was obvious having a little feminine energy in his life influenced his behaviour. For the better, wink wink.

Before getting into bed, you turned off the lights so that the room was lit by the lamp on your nightstand, painting the room in a warm, intimate dimness that you enjoyed. Daryl liked sleeping in darkness, but you preferred to have some light and it created a divide between you two—all in good fun of course.

You two would bicker like you were in your 80’s about how it was ”lamp on night” or ”pitch black night.” It would either end up with Daryl giving in to your needs and sleep with a pillow over his eyes, or he would wrap you up tightly in his arms so you wouldn’t feel frightened. Either way, you won.

You rubbed your hands over your face and let out a deep sigh before pushing the covers back and slipping underneath them. A muffled gag could be heard from the bathroom and you snorted in amusement, Daryl was probably brushing his teeth and was now deepthroating his toothbrush.

You sat up against the headboard because you didn’t want to sleep without him, fluffing up the blankets so you were cushioned comfortably. Again, since it’s been a while since you’ve had a moment alone with him, you wanted to prolong the night for as long as you could.

Daryl left the bathroom after a few minutes, wiping his face with a towel, and shirt was—to your pleasure—off. He let out a grunt as he tossed the towel into the hamper and soon his back was to you. You admired him from behind, the way his back rippled when he picked out a shirt in his dresser, the scars adorning his skin, and you wanted nothing more than to just feel his skin against yours.

“Don’t put on a shirt.” The words left your mouth before you could stop. He looked over his shoulder, shirt in hand, and huffed with the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

He dropped the shirt and walked over to the bed, and you now noticed his belt was undone. He sat down onto his side of the bed and grabbed your ankle over the covers, “should I sleep in my underwear then?” He meant it purely humorously but you raised your brows, not totally opposed to the idea. He snorted and shook his head, letting go of your ankle. “Dumbass.”

You laughed and threw yourself across the bed to press your face into his shoulder, taking an obligatory whiff of his scent. “Oh, c’mon..” you groaned softly, biting back a grin.

He brought his hands down to unzip his pants and kicked them off, leaving him in his boxers. He stood up and turned to face you and the bed. You felt the mattress dip as he crawled onto it, and a squeal escaped you when he lightly tackled you into the sheets.

“Only if ya wear yer nothin’,” he mumbled against your neck jokingly. He peppered ticklish kisses onto your neck which elicited small giggles accompanied by your hands weakly pushing at him.

His hands slid under the blanket and spread out over your hips, taking the fabric of your shorts between his fingers. Your giggles subsided when he started to pull away and you brought your hands up to his cheeks, rubbing over the rough stubble along his jaw. He peered down at you and moved the covers aside to take a gander at your pajamas, his lips pulled into an approving line.

“Suits ya,” he mumbled, rubbing a thumb along your side. His touch made you shiver lightly and couldn’t help but feel a little thrill.

“You picked well,” you hummed with a cheeky smile, but he didn’t notice, too busy wandering over your body. You laid back against the bed and let your body relax, and soon he joined, letting himself lie down on top of you—while making sure not to crush you.

Your fingers dragged through his shaggy hair, combing through the tangles as he laid his head down on your chest. He let out a deep sigh which almost resembled the way dogs huff, and it made you laugh a little. His cheek smushed against your chest at the sound of your laugh, but he didn’t care enough to ask why you were laughing, so he continued to bury his face in your boobs.

“God, I missed ya.” He groaned softly, slightly muffled by your chest.

“Missed me or my boobs?” You joked which earned a pinch.

“Mmm, both.” You rolled your eyes playfully at his admission, looking down to see him kissing over your clothed chest. Nothing about this gesture was inherently sexual, and it didn’t seem like he was intending to rile you up, but you couldn’t help but want more.

You shifted underneath him and once his kisses stopped, you let out an involuntary sigh of disappointment. You felt him pause and he lifted his head to meet your gaze, silently questioning you.

You dismissed him with a gentle shake of your head but he was insisted, he always was, and pressed (quite literally) with a squeeze to your waist.

“Wha’s wrong?” He asked gently, ducking his head to maintain eye contact with you. One thing about Daryl, he was able to make you bend and fold under minimal pressure, and he was damn good about it.

You weren’t necessarily shy about your sexual desires, especially not to him, but you felt like a horny teenager. With a reluctant sigh you responded sheepishly, “was just hoping you’d… keep going. Missed you, for a long time now.”

His eyes softened and he let out a small breath of air, his thumbs circling your waist on either side. “Missed ya too, y’know I have been. But are ya not worried about wakin’ the kids? ‘Cause darlin’… ya ain’ exactly quiet.”

All sweetness and lovey-doveyness was quickly thrown out the window and you rolled your eyes dramatically, pushing him away by his face. He laughed gruffly and rolled over to his side of the bed before slinging an arm around your shoulders, and pulled you close.

“You’re an asshole,” you grumbled, but there was no heat in your tone. He chuckled softly, bringing his free hand down to pull the covers over the both of you, cocooning you in warmth.

You exhaled softly and pressed your cheek to his shoulder to look up at him, smiling a little when you found he was already looking down at you. He leaned down to peck your lips while simultaneously tugging you impossibly closer, practically molding you to him.

A pleased hum sounded from you and he leaned down to kiss you again, then again, and again. Soon, the kisses became more drawn out and hungrier, but all the more loving and affectionate. His lips moved against yours with patience and tenderness, his free hand sliding off your thigh and onto your cheek.

He took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth when you gasped, and you immediately melted against him. His hand slid down to palm at your breast to rub and squeeze over the thin pajama tank you were wearing. A moan threatened to tear itself from your throat and like he sensed it, Daryl quickly sealed his lips over yours to swallow the moan.

He broke the kiss soon after and smirked subtly while his hand continued to rub at your breast, “told ya. Can’ keep quiet at all.” Before you could snap at him, he kissed you again.

You couldn’t stay angry at him, not when he was kissing you so softly and full of everything you’ve been wishing for for months. To be fair, you weren’t even angry, just annoyed he was right. The kiss ended shortly after and you stared up at him, hoping he’d continue.

His eyes burned through yours, and with a silent agreement, he pounced.

Daryl sat up and pulled you with him so your back was against his chest and you were sitting on his lap. An arm rested against your collarbones and held you against his shoulder, his free hand tracing circles on your knee. You could feel the faint thump of his heart on your back, and it was racing just as fast as yours.

You closed your eyes as his hand dragged up your thigh tantalizingly slow, a soft breath leaving your lips as he turned his head to nuzzle against yours, his nose rubbing into your hair. You missed the sex, that was obvious, but you missed this the most of all. The intimacy of it all, the closeness of him not only physically, but spiritually.

You would never have this closeness with anyone else, and it was almost bittersweet knowing you’d only feel this way with your husband. He made you feel so safe in his arms, protected, and loved.

A sharp cry tore itself out of you before you could even stop it when he suddenly pressed his palm against your core, and he quickly slammed a hand over your mouth. Your face immediately went warm not only from how loud you were, but how sensitive you’d gotten. Hell, you didn’t even take any clothes off yet.

“Christ woman, barely touched ya.” He mumbled mostly to himself. He kept the hand over your mouth as he began to slowly palm you through your shorts, the layered fabric giving you some much needed friction and sent a surge of arousal through you. He brushed his lips against you earlobe and took it between his teeth, nibbling it, his hot breath caressing your already warm skin. “Yer so hot here,” to emphasize his point, he pushed his fingers down against your sex, its heat wafting from your shorts.

You couldn’t even snap back or defend yourself because one—it was true, and two—his hand was still firmly planted against your mouth so all you could manage was a noncommittal, muted whine.

Daryl laughed low and rough into your ear, and shifted his hips up to show you he was just as needy as you were. His cock, solid beneath you, molded against your ass as he ground up into you.

“Ya gonna be quiet?” He whispered softly, his words curling around you almost tauntingly. This time, he lifted his hand off your mouth so you could respond.

“Y-Yes,” your affirmation came out breathy and desperate, canting your hips towards his hand.

He was silent for a moment and stilled against you before suddenly lifting you with one arm and shoving your shorts down with the other. He gave you a look that read ”don’t make a sound” so you were conscious about not making a peep. You definitely didn’t want to wake the kids.

Daryl gingerly shifted you on top of him and looked up at you for permission to cover your mouth again, which you granted. With his hand over your mouth and his free hand between your legs, you both felt comfortable enough to continue this tryst.

His fingers slid under your panties and immediately found your soaking folds, pressing his middle finger through your center. You dropped your head back onto his shoulder as a moan squeezed its way out of you, and your eyes fluttered shut.

You could hear Daryl’s breath hitch, and he took the opportunity to mouth at your throat while it was bared to him, simultaneously dragging his fingers up and down your cunt. His callouses were rough against your clit but it made all the sensations all the more pleasurable.

While you huffed and wailed underneath his palm, you stuck your tongue out to lick at his hand, tasting the salty sweat that was beginning to accumulate from the strain he was using to hold back. Daryl wanted nothing more than to just give it to you, but he knew that wasn’t exactly plausible in your shared situation at the moment.

His lips broke contact with your throat to look down at where his hand was pleasuring you and angled his hand further down to press two thick fingers against your slit, groaning against your throat as your pussy gave way and welcomed his digits in.

You both moaned in unison as your walls clenched around his fingers, the thickness of two almost enough to make you come just by the stretch alone. He wasted no time in pumping his fingers in and out of you, effectively preparing you for what’s to come next.

Your moans were muted as he fucked you slowly with his fingers, your eyes rolling back into your head as he reached places you couldn't reach yourself. The rough pads of his fingers tapped teasingly against your soft spot and sparks of white flashed in your vision. Meanwhile, his cock was only getting harder just by hearing you moan and writhe against him.

You were beginning to get so wet that your arousal was all over his hand and completely soaked your panties, and eventually it was all you could feel. He noticed your discomfort and carefully pulled his fingers out before peeling your panties off. His lips met your shoulder as he eased his fingers back into you, but you held a hand over his forearm to stop him.

Daryl’s brows raised in confusion, and he was worried he’d done something wrong. You reached up to pull his hand off your mouth to speak, your voice soft, “need you now.” You slid off his lap to sit facing him, your hands resting on the waistband of his boxers.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and his eyes flicked down from your eyes to your lips, and then back into your eyes. “Ya sure? I could always jus’ finish ya off and we could go to sleep.”

“Fuck no,” you would’ve laughed at his outrageous suggestion, but you were far too pent up to even humour him. He just laughed and leaned forward to kiss you softly, licking your lip when he pulled back to let you continue. “I don’t care if the world is ending, we’re fucking tonight before I go insane.”

He laughed again and reached up to caress your cheek, “well ya aren’t wrong about the world endin’.”

“God- Shut up,” you muttered and crashed your lips onto his. Daryl gave you a firm squeeze on your ass and moaned deliciously into your mouth.

You couldn’t help yourself and pressed your hand against his bulge, rubbing and squeezing his erection with just enough pressure to let him know you weren’t fucking around tonight. His teeth bit your lip and your actioned pulled a groan from him which you swallowed, fighting his tongue with yours.

Soon enough, you found yourself sliding your hand underneath his boxers to take hold of his shaft. His cock stood firm and eager against your palm and you swallowed every moan that left his mouth with your own, wrapping your hand around his cock.

The warm, velvety skin twitched in your touch, jumping for attention which you so eagerly gave. You broke the kiss to focus on getting his underwear off, biting your lip as he raised his hips without you asking him to, and slid his boxers down his legs.

His cock stood tall and proud, jerking just from being under your gaze. Licking your lips, you bent down to take his tip between your lips.

Daryl’s hand was immediately in your hair and he stifled a groan. You smirked around the sensitive head of his cock, leaving light, teasing kisses on the sensitive flesh. His hips bucked once, cursing under his breath.

You could tell he was being careful not to pull your hair, but you wanted it. With his head still occupying your mouth, you reached up to firmly press his hand against your head. He recognized the gesture and lightly pulled on your hair, his groans making you drip more than you already were.

“Too good fer me,” he groaned under his breath, his eyes trained on you as you licked around his tip. “Don’ deserve ya at all.”

You hummed, the vibrations sending shocks of satisfaction through him. You slowly took more of him in until he hit the back of your throat, and you gagged. You could hear his breath hitch followed by a quiet reminder to take it slow, but you knew it gave him pleasure, so you did it again.

You bobbed your head and dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the saltiness of his precum and sweat. He bit his lip to stop the loud groan from escaping, but he was unsuccessful. You continued your movements and gagging before he eventually pulled you off him with a rough tug to your hair.

You moaned in both arousal and pain from the force of his tug, and your eyes were pleading as he met your stare.

“Can’ have ya doin’ tha’ fer any longer, ‘m either gonna cum or wake the kids with tha’ mouth of yers.” He growled, but his grip released on your hair. His thumb wiped at your slick lips before bringing that thumb up to his tongue, tasting you and himself. “Come ride me, girl.”

The sentence alone would have any woman throw off their panties and hop on his cock, and you were no exception. With frantic quiet shuffling, Daryl had you perched on his lap in less than a second. Your hands cupped his cheeks and his laid around your hips, massaging the soft flesh. His cock laid against your stomach and you grinned a little to see it so eager and pleased to be near you, and you thought how lucky am I to have this guy still find me attractive after all these years.

Like he read your mind, he gave you a squeeze and kissed your chest over your shirt, “so gorgeous baby.”

You smiled softly and forgot about all the lustful thoughts that threatened to ravage you, and instead focused on keeping the moment tender and intimate. Not that it wasn’t, but you and Daryl could lose yourselves in each other fairly quickly.

“Love you,” you murmured and bent down to kiss him. All love, no sneaky or cheeky innuendos passing between you two despite the fact his cock was pressed against you.

“Love you too,” he mumbled against your lips with a smirk, “now hurry up.” He gave you a soft pat on your hip which made you chuckle against his mouth.

You pressed your knees down on either side of him and reached between you two to take hold of his erection, sliding the head through your slick. You both sighed softly as you slowly slid down onto him, taking your time since it had been a while, and you weren’t used to his size anymore.

He bottomed out and for a second you paused to just hold him, his arms wrapping around your back. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and you followed suit, copying him. The way he held you felt like the old days when it was just you two, just like this everyday. You know, without him being inside you.

His hand rubbed your back and he sighed against your neck, peppering soft kisses on your skin. You shifted your hips slightly, moaning at the feeling of your walls perfectly molded around his cock. He leaned in to kiss you, whispering so quiet you almost missed it, “can ya be quiet? Or do I ‘ave to cover yer mouth again?”

If you didn’t know any better you would have rejected his offer, but with the knowledge about how loud you were and the fact that your children were sleeping down the hall, you just nodded without any other thought.

His hand over your mouth, and you both aching with anticipation, you began to move with a slight jerk of your hips. Daryl bit his lip to hold back his moan while you carelessly cried against his hand.

You slowly got into the rhythm of back and forth, rocking yourself onto his dick with no end goal besides cumming together. Daryl’s free hand gripped your hip and attempted to guide your movements to which you followed, dragging your pussy up along the length of his cock, and back down with a wet smack. He groaned lowly in response, pressing his hand harder against your mouth when your moans got a bit pitchy.

You continued moving like this, slow, but hard. With each smack of flesh, you brought yourself higher and higher with him. You could feel his cock twitch inside you and in turn, you squeezed around him, the sudden gesture making his hips buck up.

The moment his hips bucked up was the moment the head of his cock met your soft spot, and he clocked it immediately. Daryl began thrusting up into you while your breathing ran ragged as he hit the spot over and over again, pushing you further into oblivion and ecstasy.

You wailed against his hand and began meeting his thrusts with your own movements, and you thighs smacked against his with a lewd slap. He removed his hand from your mouth and used it to help guide your hips into a more quicker pace, all while your foreheads pressed together and your breaths mingled.

He breathed heavily, mixed with soft whimpers that you had to strain yourself to hear, and you were now making sure you didn’t cry out. It was getting difficult with the way he was fucking himself into you, but at one point you didn’t really care.

Your moans quietly bounced off the walls and if you were being loud, Daryl didn’t stop you anymore. He just looked up at you with eyes beaming with adoration and arousal, his only goal to send you to the highest peaks of ecstasy right now. And with the way things were going, it wouldn’t take long before you both reached that peak.

Your hands slid into his hair and had one hand holding the back of his head while you maintained eye contact with him. Daryl prolonged the eye contact, reaching up to cup your face and bring you closer. His moans came after yours like a canon, his cock pulsing inside of you, and the bed squeaking slightly.

“Daryl,” you whispered, “I’m about to—”

“I know,” he interrupted and closed his eyes, his brows furrowed. “Together, yeah?”

You nodded and closed your eyes with him, but threw your head back instead. Your moans came out ragged and almost strained from the way your neck was craned, but it didn’t matter. His hips were meeting yours with every thrust, bounce, and jerk. His cock burned inside you, dragging along your inner walls with an almost delectable burn as he slammed against that soft spongey spot with ultimate accuracy.

With your head thrown back, Daryl took the opportunity to suck at your neck and leave his mark on you, but also hid the marks since you were very adamant about feeling embarrassed when people pointed them out. His tongue darted out to soothe the sting of his mark, and he started grunting uncontrollably. He was close, and so were you.

His cock throbbed and your walls fluttered. Your moans reached a fever pitch and he growled praises under his breath as the sticky mess between you got wetter and hotter.

You curled your fingers at the back of his head with a deep groan of his name, and came around him. Daryl was quickly thrown over by your climax and came soon after, pumping his seed deep inside you with a low curse and whisper of your name.

Your hands clambered over his face and shoulders, sighing and whining as your intense orgasm ebbed away, his cock still jerking into you slightly as he fucked his cum into you.

It was quiet for a moment. The lights dim and the only sound that could be heard was heavy breathing. The room smelt of sex, sweat and something sweet.

After you both came down, Daryl’s big arms wrapped around you and pulled you impossibly closer, inhaling your after-sex scent that he missed so much. You were starting to feel uncomfortable with how hot you were getting, and the stickiness of his sweaty body against yours was not helping. So with gentle consideration, you pulled off of his dick with his help, groaning at the sensitivity and watching as his now limp dick slipped out followed by a mix of fluids.

“God,” you sighed, plopping down onto the bed next to him. Daryl just laughed quietly and ran his fingers through his hair with a deep sigh.

“Yeah. God.” He sighed and maneuvered himself to lie down with you, “ya didn’ do a good job of keeping quiet.”

You scoffed, rubbing your face while he wiped you down with his boxers before tossing it onto the floor. “Don’t care, I needed that.”

“You did? Couldn’ tell.”

“Fuck you Dixon.”

“Already did.”

You laughed at his banter, feeling the exhaustion quickly wash over you. He noticed and pulled you close before throwing the blankets over you both. He was started to feel your sleepiness and neither of you spoke.

You couldn’t be any happier with how the night went. Finally reconnecting with your husband was everything you’ve been craving for, more than food. And now that you satisfied yourself (and him), you could finally rest peacefully.

Knock.

You and Daryl lifted your head towards the closed bedroom door, eyes wide at each other.

“Mama? Papa?” Lydia’s soft, sleepy voice called out from behind the door.

Daryl shot you an amused, but tired look. “Guess we really were loud.”

Your night was far from over.

hope you enjoyed! likes, comments, and reblogs greatly appreciated :)

[dixons-sunshine]

The Depths Of Slumber | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: After months of living on the road and being forced to sleep with one eye open, the prison came along and blessed you with a chance to get some actual sleep. However, your brain being hardwired to be in survival mode made it hard to stay asleep, but thankfully, Daryl was there to offer you his help.

Genre: Fluff.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 634

A/N: Requested by @dixondystopia. Hope you like this, angel!

Navigation. TWD masterlists. AO3. Taglist.

The prison was silent. No sounds of walkers or any other dangers could be heard. The group had all claimed a cell, bunking together for extra security. The same could be said for you and Daryl. Well, you hadn’t chosen a cell. The two of you were sharing the perch for the time being, but it was perfect. It was safe. You could get the rest you needed.

So why couldn’t you get your mind to switch off? Why couldn’t you drift into the slumber that you wanted—needed—so desperately?

You sighed in frustration and turned on your other side as your brain made you jolt awake for what felt like the millionth time since you kicked your shoes off and lay down on the flimsy mattress with your partner. Months on the road, sleeping with one eye open and running from place to place with barely any rest had finally taken its toll on you, but in the worst way possible. Now that you could finally get some much needed time in dream land, your brain wouldn’t let you.

“Quit movin’, woman,” Daryl grumbled as he buried his face into the rather sad excuse for a pillow, his eyes closed tightly.

You pursed your lips and looked at him over your shoulder. “Sorry,” you apologized, feeling guilty for keeping the archer from his own much needed rest.

Daryl hummed and said nothing for a moment, and you figured he had fallen asleep. However, he spoke up again, his voice gruff and laced with tiredness. “Can’t sleep?”

You hesitated for a moment, before sighing again. “Yeah,” you admitted, turning over to face him properly. “My brain won’t let me.”

The archer slowly opened his eyes to peer at you, his ocean-coloured eyes flickering over your face for a few seconds. “S’rude of it. Want me to beat it up?”

You laughed quietly at the unexpected joke. “If it helps me fall asleep, then sure. Go ahead.” Your words were punctuated by a yawn, one that had tears filling up in your eyes that you wiped away before they got mistaken for you crying. One that showed just how exhausted you were.

Daryl let out a huff of breath and turned on his back, before opening his arms in invitation. “C’mon.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Jus’ c’mere before I change my mind,” he said, rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to smile when you eagerly moved into his embrace, resting your head on his chest.

You breathed in his scent, closing your eyes as you basked in his comfort. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you close against him. You closed your eyes and buried your face into his chest, humming in contentment when he slipped his hand beneath your shirt and gently began raking his blunt nails over your back.

“Good?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

You nodded and could already feel the depths of slumber tugging at your eyes again. “Mhm.” You were a little surprised by this act, but you didn’t dare question it. Not when it was helping your mind turn off and made it feel like you would finally be able to get some sleep.

“Get some sleep,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Planning on it.”

Those were the last words uttered between the two of you. Although sleep didn’t overcome you instantly, the steady thumping of Daryl’s heartbeat, mixed with the way his chest moved up and down with his breaths and the soothing scratching on your back helped you get there. And when you were pulled under, this time, you didn’t jolt awake.

The last thing you remembered before succumbing to the darkness was Daryl pressing a kiss to your temple and whispering something to you, words you didn’t quite hear.

And then nothing.

[kisses4kaia]

ive revisited my twd era and i can’t stop thinking about daryl and his softness during intimacy.. lord happy new year

he’s always been gentle with you, that’s nothing new, but the pure vulnerability he displays as you sit in his lap, thighs on either side of his own, is something so beautiful—you don’t think a million words could capture it’s heaviness.

“‘m sorry,” he says after flinching at your fingertips feather-brushing over the scars on his back, and you can feel your heart break as you imagine the resilience your man has been forced to build over the course of his years. “do they hurt anymore?” you whisper, kissing him on his cheekbone, tenderly forging a path with your lips from his jaw to his neck. “no, not really. s’times, when i stretch weird, though,” he gruffs out as you feel his muscles relaxing beneath you.

right now, you’re pretty much just cock-warming him, humming noncommittally as he feeds you crumb after crumb of his walls’ bricks. his entrusting of you warms you, and you smile, bringing your forehead to his before kissing him square on his lips. you find yourself rolling your hips over his slowly, gasping into his mouth as he groans, grip on your thighs tightening before lovingly massaging the fat of your ass. “beautiful, really beautiful,” he says more to himself than to you, but you don’t find it any less charming. “feels good?” you laugh, allowing yourself to move ever slightly faster. “mhm, love ya, love ya, i mean it.” daryl mumbles beneath you, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed with a deep fondness for the man below you.

“i love you too, baby, so much,” you gasp out as his cock hits that tender lovespot inside of you. kissing him on the forehead, you find your hands in his hair, massaging and tugging on the chestnut tresses affectionately. beneath you, daryl’s sighing and smiling and gently groaning as you push and pull your hips eagerly into his, chasing your high. his strong arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you into him, pressing his lips to the junction of your neck and your shoulder, nosing at your jugular.

the pair of you fit together, perfectly. not like a jigsaw puzzle, but more like water and sand. bound by the salt of the sea, the testament to your love is that of your mingling sweat from working yourself onto, into him. your flesh, his hair, your bones, his heart, there was no distinction between muscle and tissue here in this moment, (you two were merely beings of soul-stuff, bodiless and one with each other) you realize as the heat in your core breaks through to the surface and wracks through you.

you think he came before you, because once you come to your senses, he’s basking in the afterglow, softening inside you.

sex with daryl was always special, but he accredits it all to you.

[thnksfrtwd]

sleepy & clingy sam drabble..

synopsis: sam wakes up while you’re studying n wants you by his side. cornysappyeww (i want him so bad i’m in love w him)

word count: 600

wrote w/ m.reader in mind but it’s gn! half asleep so i haven’t looked over this but here it is while i work on a twd request :p

it was late into the night when you got back to the motel. the lights were off, sam was asleep and dean was out. you placed your bag down before sitting, hunched over the wobbly table.

you pointed your flashlight down, reading some mythology book bobby lent dean, with your notes and john’s journal to the side. you heard sam shuffling around in bed as you picked up your pen. you haphazardly wrote some key points about the origin of what you were sure the creature was.

sam tried to say something, but it came out entirely incoherent, “mmfgh..” was all you heard. you paused your scratchy writing, and turned your head. sam looked still, asleep, so you brushed off his mumbling.

a few more minutes passed, continuing to study, before the silence was broken again, hearing your name muffled into sam’s pillow.

you looked over to see him flip onto his back. “sammy?” you whispered as quiet as you could, while lifting your flashlight, just slightly, to be able to see him without directly shining it onto him. he looked back at you with furrowed brows and nearly shut, puffy eyes.

he rubbed his eyes as he tiredly hummed back, “mmhm?”

“sorry, baby, did i wake you?”

“mm-mm,” he shook his head. his voice was groggy, barely above a mutter. “come to bed.”

“i’m studyin—” he cut you off with another “mm-mm.”

you chuckled at the silence the second after, thinking he’d say something else. “‘mm-mm’ what, sam?”

he was falling asleep as he attempted to speak. “mm.. come to bed, please.” his words sounded like they’d been put through a blender, constantly starting to trail off. “you can— you could study.. over here..”

you couldn’t help but smile. you started to clean up the table, closing the journals, barely any seconds passing before sam pleaded again. “come to bed,” he stretched out each gravelly word. “i’m comin’, man,” you laughed through your words, “just give me a second.” he let out a small, airy chuckle that warmed your heart.

you held the book and your flashlight as you walked over to the bed and kicked off your shoes. sam immediately reached out for you, throwing his hand onto your arm. you quickly jumped back into the bed, leaning onto the headboard.

sam rolled onto his stomach, his head landing on your chest, as he draped his leg over yours. you put an arm around his shoulders, letting your fingers brush through his hair for a minute, before pulling away to hold up your book with one hand and flashlight with the other.

he mumbled something you weren’t able to make out. before you could ask him to repeat himself, he started carelessly pushing your book towards the bedside desk. “sammy-” you breathed out. “sam, i gotta read this, hun.”

“why not tomorrow?” he groaned. “i can help you study. tomorrow. it’ll go by much quicker.. just- leave it, for a minute.”

you exhaled before giving into him. “i’ll be holding you to your word.” you placed the book and flashlight to the side and shifted, properly laying down. sam adjusted himself, half his body resting on yours.

he sunk his head into your shoulder and let out a content sigh. “love- you,” his words hiccuped as he started to doze off to sleep. you kissed his head and cooed back, “i love you too.”

he fell asleep mere seconds after. you continued to fidget with his hair, and listen to his steady breathing, until you did too.

he wouldn’t remember, at least, half of this in the morning.

[starkeymeow]

chrysanthemums ₍₁₎

drew starkey x reader zombie apocalypse au

— “you’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

content: zombie apocalypse, death, violence, guns, lowkey actor!drew x camp counselor!reader in an apocalypse, drew saving reader & reader being stubborn asfuck i fear

authors note: me after rewatching twd asf LMAO im on s6. if u wanna be added to the tag list for this upcoming series, feel free to lmk thru replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !!

next

drew steps into the house, its rotting frame creaking under his weight. the walls sag like old men, peeling wallpaper revealing layers of neglect beneath, as if countless lives have been lived and lost within these confines.

he shuts the door behind him, careful not to lock it; the last thing he needs is to be trapped in here if things go south.

his heart pounds in his chest as he takes another step forward, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the room, wide and alert. he grips his baseball bat tightly, knuckles turning white against the wood.

the floorboards groan underfoot, each creak sounding like a warning, and he winces at the noise. if there’s a stiff inside this house, it’ll hear him for sure. every instinct screams at him to turn back, but he forces himself to move deeper inside, driven by a desperate hope that maybe—just maybe—he’ll find something useful.

he drops the bat to one hand, using the other to push open the door to the nearest room. the stench hits him like a wall, forcing him to pull his mask up over his nose, just below his eyes, and he glances around.

he rummages through the debris, sifting through old clothes and broken furniture. there’s nothing here but memories, and he wipes his hands on his pants in frustration.

he turns to leave, swinging the door back open, but he’s met with the cold steel of a gun pressed to the side of his cheek.

“don’t . . move,” a voice commands, low and steady. he freezes, heart racing, eyes darting to the figure standing before him. and you’re the one there, gun raised. it isn’t anything fancy, just a glock 19 you scavenged from a body at an overrun gas station weeks ago.

your finger rests near the trigger, tense and ready.

you size him up, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. drew can feel the heat radiating off your body, but once you see that he’s just some random guy, you lower the gun, stepping back slightly. “jesus christ,” you mutter.

he watches you, the gun hangs loosely at your side now, but he can see the edge of caution still lingering in your posture. your eyes are wary, scanning him for signs of threat, and he takes a slow step back, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of peace.

he can see the shadows under your eyes, the blood on your skin and clothes.

“i thought you were one of ‘em,” you say as you regain your composure. you reach down and grab the bag of cans you’d found just moments ago. the metal clinks softly as you pull it off the floor.

you don’t want to linger any longer. the silence stretches, and you know you need to keep moving, find your next shelter, your next meal. you turn sharply on your heel, ready to head out the door, but the moment you step toward the kitchen, you hear him behind you.

“hey— no, wait!” drew’s voice cuts through the silence, and he steps forward, but you quickly glance back over your shoulder, every instinct telling you to keep your distance. “one’f who?”

he quickly pulled his mask down from his face, revealing his expression—breathless and earnest, like he’s just realized how much he needs you in this hellish world.

“nobody,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. your eyes narrow at him. he places his bat on the ground beneath him, then raises his bare hands slightly as if to show you he means no harm, that he’s unarmed, but you can’t shake the feeling that this could all turn sideways in an instant.

“look,” he says, his voice casual yet urgent, “we should— we should stick together. it’s safer that way, right?”

you don’t falter, “not happening.” you start moving again, but he quickly intercepts you, stepping toward your path.

“c’mon,” he presses, “you can’t be out here alone. it's a death sentence. we have a better chance if we watch each other’s backs. there are worse things out there than me.” his eyes scan the room, then dart back to you, a flicker of desperation beneath the charm.

you squint at him, trying to gauge if he’s being genuine or if it’s some trick to win your trust. “and how do i know you’re not one of those worse things?” you retort, standing back on one of your legs. your mind races with the memories of the past year—trust has gotten you burned more times than you can count.

“because . . . i’m not a monster,” he replies, dropping the friendly act. “i’m just tryin’ to survive. there’s safety in numbers.” he pauses, seemingly aware of your silence. “i’m drew, by the way,” he adds, but you don’t respond with your name, keeping that information to yourself as a protective measure.

you look him over, “i don’t need a partner,” you insist, the words feeling more like a defense than a conviction.

“maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softening, and he follows you into the small kitchen, “but you don’t have to do this alone. just . . . think about it. we could cover more ground, find better supplies.”

you shake your head. “i’ve done fine on my own,” you argue. drew’s gaze is steady, not giving up on you, and it annoys you more than it should. you take a step back, glancing toward the door.

“look, we could—”

“no,” you cut him off sharply, your patience thinning. “you don’t know me, and i don’t need deadweight slowing me down.”

he opens his mouth, likely to say something else, but you turn abruptly, stepping outside into the dim light of the fading day. as you walk toward your car, a small hatchback parked in the driveway, you can feel his presence behind you, like a shadow you can’t shake off.

“where are you going?” he calls, his voice trailing after you.

“my car,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look back. your mind races with the possibility of getting out of here, of leaving him behind. but then a small voice in the back of your head—one that you’ve trained yourself to ignore—reminds you that you can’t keep running forever. maybe it would be easier to team up, to have someone who knows how to navigate this decaying city.

“do you even have gas?” he asks, quickening his pace to catch up with you, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. “we should check—”

“i know my car,” you snap, opening the door and peering inside. a few old cans roll around on the floor, remnants of a past scavenging trip. it’s not much, but it’s yours. “i can handle myself.”

“i believe you,” he says. “but gas is running low everywhere. i could help with that, you know. if you let me.” he leans against the car, his baseball bat resting against his thigh. you can’t help but glance at it, reading his mannerisms.

no.

you slip into your car. your heart races as you grip the steering wheel, torn between the urge to drive away and the nagging feeling that you’re leaving someone behind. glancing in the rearview mirror, you catch a glimpse of drew as he watches you leave.

there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but you shake it off, convincing yourself that he’ll manage. he’s resourceful, right? he’ll find a way to survive, just like he’s been this whole time anyway.

the engine hums to life, and you pull away, the tires crunching against the gravel. the sun dips lower in the sky, and you remind yourself that you can’t afford to be weak—not now, not in this world.

as you drive, the evening air grows cooler. it’s getting dark. then, ahead, you spot movement. a dog is darting between a cluster of empties and a man, barking wildly. your instincts kick in, and you slow down, eyes narrowing as you assess the situation.

the man chasing the dog doesn’t look like its owner. there’s a wildness in his eyes, a desperate edge to his movements, and the knife glinting in his hand sends a chill down your spine. this isn’t a rescue mission; it’s a hunt.

you stop the car just in time, your heart pounding in your ears as the empties turn their heads, slow and shambling, drawn to the sound of your engine. you curse under your breath, the instinct to protect the dog outweighing your better judgment. you can’t let them hurt it, and you can’t let the dog end up being that man’s dinner.

grabbing the machete from the passenger seat, you open the door and step out into the fading light. the dog continues to bark, but you move swiftly, cutting through the first two like butter, the blade slicing into their skulls. blood and decay spray against your skin, but you push the discomfort aside.

the dog’s barking intensifies, and you leap into action, striking down another empty. you feel the rush of your heart as you move, each swing of the machete is quick and precise, but the smell of rot fills the air, overpowering and sickening, making it hard to concentrate.

but you can’t stop now. you push forward, cutting through the ranks of the undead, clearing a path toward the man and the dog. you’re almost there when he notices you, eyes narrowing in irritation. he shifts his weight, ready for a fight.

he lunges toward you, and you barely dodge his first strike, the blade missing you by inches. you sidestep, retaliating with a swing of your machete. he blocks you, and you can feel your heart racing as you circle him, trying to find an opening.

he charges again, and you duck as his knife whips past your ear. you retaliate with a slash of the machete, catching him across the arm. he hisses in pain, dropping his knife, but he doesn’t back down, lunging forward with renewed fury.

you back away, but the ground shifts beneath you. you stumble, catching yourself just before you lose your balance, but he’s on you, driving you back toward the treeline. you slam your foot down, pushing against him, but he pushes harder, and you feel yourself going down.

you grapple, fists flying as you wrestle for control of your machete. his grip tightens around your wrist, and for a moment, panic surges within you. you can’t let him win—not now, not like this. with a sudden burst of strength, you twist your body, throwing your weight against him, and finally, finally, you manage to free your machete.

without hesitation, you drive it into his neck, feeling the sickening squelch of flesh giving way. he gasps, surprise flooding his features as you twist the blade, but before you can pull the weapon free, he collapses, taking you with him as you tumble down a hidden slope you hadn’t noticed, “shit!”

the world spins around you as you roll, slamming against the ground hard enough to rattle your bones. pain erupts in your head as you hit a rock. the last thing you see before darkness creeps in is the dog barking at the top of the hill, confused and agitated.

then everything fades away into silence.

you wake slowly, vision blurring as you try to make sense of the world around you. a dull ache pulses through your skull, and your body feels heavy, weak. blinking, you try to take in your surroundings.

a small fire crackles in front of you, the orange flames licking at the night air. it’s dark, and the sky above is blanketed in stars. confusion prickles at your mind—where are you?

you shift, but your head throbs with a vengeance, and your muscles feel like lead. beneath you, something hard gives slightly under the pressure: a backpack wrapped in a jacket to act like a pillow, just something to lay on. you hadn’t even registered it was there until now. as you move, the material rustles, and a small twitch of pain shoots through your neck.

god, your head hurts.

blinking again, you force your vision to focus. in your peripherals, you spot the dog from before. it’s lying nearby, tail flicking with calm awareness. oh—right. the dog. you were protecting it before everything went sideways, before that asshole with the knife and the tumble down the hill.

the hill.

the guy died.

he’s an empty.

panic grips you, and you spring up, or at least try to like the empty will attack you at any moment—your limbs are weak. your hands automatically search for your machete. first, your boot. nothing. then, the sheath that’s supposed to be strapped to your calf. but it isn’t there either.

panic claws at your chest, making it hard to breathe. your leg is wrapped in a makeshift bandage, clean but light, and you can’t feel a thing from it. what the hell happened?

your breath quickens, a desperate, uneven rhythm as you struggle to find your weapon around you, your fingers scrabbling at dirt and a few wood chips. where is it?

that’s when you hear him. “relax,” the voice says, dry. “you’re not exactly in fighting shape, anyway.”

your eyes snap to drew. he’s sitting a couple feet away, leaning against the base of a tree. there’s a bar clamped between his teeth, and he’s tearing off a piece with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. he chews, watching you with that same exasperated look he wore back when you left him on the road.

the day hasn’t been kind to him, either; his face is lined with fatigue, and his clothes are more scuffed and dirty than before. the granola bar he’s eating must’ve come from some recent scavenging effort, something you don’t remember finding yourself. at least he hasn’t gone through your supplies—or maybe he has. you wouldn’t know.

you glance around the makeshift camp. your hatchback sits a tree or two away, its dirty, beat-up exterior looking just as you’d left it. a tiny sense of relief washes over you, though you’re still on edge.

the dog from earlier trots up to you, sniffing your leg before nuzzling your head. you watch it, feeling a rare warmth unfurl in your chest. it’s safe. you’d saved it. no more running, at least for now.

drew’s still sitting there, silent as he chews, gaze unfocused and distant, watching the dark woods. he hardly notices you looking at him until he turns slightly, catches your eye, and acts. biting down on the bar to hold it in place, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another granola bar.

without a word, he tosses it over. it lands in front of you, and you stare at it, your lips pressing into a thin line. drew mutters something under his breath. “not much, but it’s what i could find this morning. for both of us.”

you don’t move. you’re too stubborn to accept his food or the silent offer of care. your hand flexes against the dirt, trying to push yourself to your feet. drew sees you trying to stand and quickly drops his bar, scrambling into a crouch. he moves forward with practiced precision, catching your wrists just as you’re about to collapse again. he holds your arms gently but firmly, pinning you back against the makeshift pillow.

“fuck—!” you yelp, frustration breaking free. rage sparks in your eyes, and you glare up at him, teeth clenched, breath coming in shallow gasps. drew is hunched over you, worry creasing his forehead, his gaze scanning your face and hair for any signs of new injuries or, god forbid, crawling insects.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you spit out.

“what’s wrong with me?” he echoes, voice even but laced with exhaustion. “what the hell is wrong with you? you nearly killed yourself trying to play hero. maybe let someone help you for once.”

he lingers there, doesn’t pull back, still making sure you’re not about to hurt yourself—or him.

you grow quiet again, the fight draining from your body as drew watches you closely, his shoulders tense, but when it becomes clear you aren’t about to launch another desperate attempt to stand, he releases his grip on your arms and leans back. he picks up the granola bar you rejected, his movements resigned.

you sit up, slower this time, shooting him a glare as your hand moves cautiously to your leg. your fingertips brush the bandage. it’s secure but not overly tight. you feel the slightest prickle of guilt mixed with irritation as you look back at him.

drew meets your gaze, his jaw set. “when you fell,” he begins, voice low as he swallows, looking down at his granola bar, “you scraped your leg. nothin’ that’s gonna kill you, but it was bad enough to need wrapping. infection out here is just a different way to die. we can’t afford that.”

you catch the way he says ‘we,’ and your brow furrows. “we?” you echo, your voice colder than you mean it to be.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “yeah, we. as in, both of us. like it or not, we’re out here together now. you got hurt trying to save that dog, and—hell, i know you think you don’t need anyone, but . . .” he pauses, choosing his words carefully. “i couldn’t just leave you there. especially when that stiff was gonna come back to life while you were out.”

your eyes narrow, “i didn’t ask for you to find me. or to save me,” you snap, bitterness lacing your voice. the implication hangs in the air: you’d rather be on your own, even injured and vulnerable, than owe anything to him.

drew’s mouth twists. “yeah, well, maybe you didn’t. but i found you anyway, and that’s where we’re at. it’s not just about what either of us wants anymore; it’s about surviving. and as much as it annoys you, we have a better shot together than apart.”

you grit your teeth and your mind fights the idea, refusing to accept that this stranger—this person who insists on sticking around—might be right.

he studies you for a long moment, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “you gonna tell me your name?” he asks, breaking the silence, his voice softer than before. for him, it’s been a full day since he first introduced himself, and yet he’s still left in the dark about who you are.

you clench your jaw, your lips pressing into a thin line as you consider staying quiet again.

his gaze is steady. “you think i’m a liability?” he asks you.

“i know you are,” you reply, tilting your head. “and if you keep bothering me, i might just throw you to the empties myself.” it comes out half-jokingly, but it’s a warning that carries weight—an unspoken understanding that you will do what it takes to protect yourself.

“empties—yikes. and that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” he replies, a lopsided smile breaking through his frustration.

“harsh is surviving another day in here,” you say. “i can handle myself, thank you very much. if you can’t keep up, then you’ll find yourself with the rest of them.” you nod around you, not an actual direction, indicating the danger that lurks just beyond the trees you can see from there.

he shifts his weight, contemplating your words. “i’m not asking you to babysit me. i can keep up,” he insists. “i just think we could help each other. you might be able to throw me to the stiffs, but what happens when there’s more than just one? or when you run out of supplies?”

“i’ll take my chances,” you respond. “i’ve gotten this far on my own. it’s worked for me.”

he sighs, clearly exasperated but not willing to give up. “you’re stubborn,” he states, but he can’t help but admit that he admires it about you. “but that won’t get you everywhere. sometimes you need to lean on someone else.”

you shake your head. “i said no. if you keep pushing, i swear—”

“you’ll throw me to the stiffs, yeah, i get it,” he interrupts, a wry smile playing on his lips. “but let me just say, it’s a hell of a lot easier when you’re not facing down a horde alone.”

you hesitate, contemplating his words. trust doesn’t come easy, not when you’ve seen what people are capable of when pushed to their limits, even though you can go for a companion out here.

“you don’t even know where to look for supplies,” you say, trying to sound tougher than you feel. you can almost hear your heart thudding in your chest, “i’ve been doing this for months. i can find what i need.”

“you act like you’re the only person in this universe who’s been practically living in a cemetery this last year! it’s getting harder out here,” he replies, his eyes serious now. “you’ll wish you had someone watching your back. you probably already have.”

you push your hands into your pockets, feeling the rough edges of the cans you collected earlier. the truth is, the thought of partnering up is enticing, but the fear of betrayal hangs heavy in the air.

you let out a reluctant breath, muttering, “y/n.”

he doesn’t miss the way you almost bite down on the name, as if even giving that small piece of yourself away is a battle. but drew’s expression softens, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. it’s not a grin of triumph but rather a look of someone who knows that even the smallest steps matter.

“y/n,” he repeats, testing the sound, as if committing it to memory. “nice to meet you, officially.”

he shifts slightly, his eyes searching yours. “look, just think about it. we’re stronger together. and if it helps, i promise i won’t let you down.”

you hesitate, glancing back at him. there’s a flicker of something—a potential alliance, perhaps—but the instinct to protect yourself runs deeper than any desire for companionship. finally, you turn your back on him, determined to get to your car.

“fine,” you say, voice steady but laced with reluctance. “but if you try anything—”

“you’ll be the first to know,” he cuts in quickly, a ghost of a smile appearing as the tension between you both shifts, just a fraction, toward something resembling partnership.

early tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @hoelesslyt @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot @0-tatiana-0

[myfictionaldreams]

Congratulations!!! I love your fics! Youve very much deserve this🤍

Daryl x reader lactation kink or breast kink for daryl; i always thought hed be a tits kinda guy, the forbidden fruit kinda vibes. Biting, licking, sucking. Fluff/comfort/smut kinda vibes please! Bonus point if mentions of daryls “X marks his spot” on his neck in foreplay🤤🤍

⁀➷ Spilled Milk

✧ Pairing | Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

�� A/N | right so little warning, I haven't watched TWD in YEARS, even though Daryl is my fav, I can't remember a lot of details, so I didn't get bonus points as I'm not sure what the X marks his spot means. I'm sorry! Hopefully, you still enjoy this nonetheless. <3 Thank you for the request & love! x

✧ Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, breast kink, lactation kink, body worship, possessive daryl, praise kink, cum in pants, slight hints of femdom

✧ Words: 892

15k celebration masterlist | my main masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

You’re already half stripped by the time he backs you into his room, fingers curled in the he of your shirt, his breath hot where it ghosts your jaw.

“Fuckin’ tease,” Daryl growls, voice hoarse like he’d been biting back every groan since you touched him in the garden. One second, your hand brushed over his, the next he was staring at your chest like he wanted to fall to his knees and pray.

You hadn’t meant to rile him up, really, you hadn’t, but your top clung too tightly from the heat, nipples peeking through the fabric, sensitive from the way your body had changed lately. The ache in your chest hadn’t gone away for days.

Now you’re here, shoved against the closed door with his hands all over you like he's starved. No one sees Daryl Dixon like this —hungry and soft.

Except you.

He fumbles with the front of your shirt, not bothering with delicacy. His palms are calloused, shaking a little as he peels the fabric up and over your head. You help him, only because you need this too, and the groan he lets out the second your breasts are bared makes your knees weaken.

“Christ.”

His eyes darken, jaw clenched, and then his mouth is on you, biting softly under the swell of one breast before licking a stripe up the side. You gasp, arching into him.

“Always lookin’ at me with these…” he licks his lips, cupping both tits in his big hands, thumbs brushing slowly over your sensitive nipples until they stiffen again. “This I wouldn’t notice?”

You don't get a chance to answer as his lips wrap around one nipple, and fuck, you feel that all the way between your thighs.

“Daryl!”

He pulls back just enough to pant against your chest. His beard scraped gently along your skin.

“S’not just ‘cause they're big,” he rasps. “Ain’t just about that.”

Your hands move into his hair, carding through the thick strands as he mouths your breast again, sloppier this time. It’s not about what’s pretty. It’s about what he needs. You feel his tongue circle your nipple.

You gasp, a soft, surprised moan slipping from your throat. Because fuck. That ache? That pressure? The sore weight in your chest?

It’s real, and he notices.

“Shit,” his eyes flick up, stunned but not disgusted. “Are you…?”

“I don't know,” you whisper honestly. “It just started this week, I haven't told anyone.”

Daryl blinks once, then twice. His hands are still cupping you, gentler now.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, voice low.

You shake your head slowly. “No. Not when you touch me, just when I don’t.”

That wrecks him, you see it in his eyes. That gnawing guilt that always clings to him, like maybe you've been in pain and he didn't know, didn't protect you, but you press a soft kiss to the top of his head before he can spiral.

“Touch me, Daryl,” you plead.

And god, he does. He groans, dropping to his knees like you're the altar. His tongue laves over your other nipple now, warm and slow, as if to coax the ache out of you.

The first drop is subtle. Then the next isn’t. He moans against your skin.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, baby!”

His fingers hold you firm as he sucks harder, careful but desperate, like he’s just found liquid gold. You cry out when he grazes you with his teeth, then licks over the spot again, soothing, then suckign just enough to ease the pressure.

“You taste so good,” he emphasises between sucks, eyes fluttering shut. “Didn’t know I needed this but fuck.”

One hand dips between your legs as he mouths you, rubbing through the wet fabric of your underwear. You’re soaked, he hasn’t even really touched you yet, and you’re soaked.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasp, eyes wide, watching his every movement. “Just keep doing that, don’t stop!”

His tongue presses hard, and his fingers tug one nipple as he suckles the other, and you slump heavily against the door, legs shaking and struggling to keep your body upright as you cum with a strangled whimper, clinging to his shoulders as he holds you up through it.

When you blink again, you’re welcomed with the sight of Daryl staring up at you, his eyes full of wonder and creamy white milk droplets dripping from the corner of his mouth.

You're breathless as your fingers catch the milk, bringing it back to his mouth, where he sucks it eagerly with a groan, closing his eyes.

“I want to touch you,” you say needily.

This is when something shifts in Daryl, as he appears embarrassed, trying to hide his face into your breasts, not to suck or kiss them but just ot hide his face.

“What is it?” you ask, your fingers tangling into his hair, holding him in place.

“Don’t need to touch me… I already came,” he admitted against your skin.

“You… You came from playing with my tits?” you ask, shocked.

Daryl nods, continuing to hide his face. You can’t help but grin, kissing the top of his head as you realise that strong, not to be fucked with Daryl Dixon just came in his pants from suckign your nipples.

You were going to have a lot of fun with him, that’s for sure.

[prettydaisygirl]

babe i’m a twd obsessed and i’ve been looking for a rafe and zombie apocalypse au everywhere but never found any seriously I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR MAKING ONE!!! can i please request a little angst (with happy ending ofc) where maybe before they dated they met a group of other survivors and rafe got close with one of the girl and reader just got so jealous and she was just so sad and sulky all the time and stuff feel free to adjust it any way you want!! thank you have a great day love <3

hiii nonnie! Thank you so much for this request! I've been wanting to write more pre-relationship Rafe zombie au because the two of them were together several months before they actually started dating. I hope this is what you were looking for, also Rafe is a pretty bad guy in this. But it's the apocalypse so who cares. Thanks for reading, my love <3

Us and Them (zombie au): Chapter Three

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader who gets jealous ✿ 1.3k words

cw: zombie apocalypse, fem!reader, pre-established relationship, jealous!reader, Rafe is a bad guy, mention of throwing up, mention of unnamed side character deaths, i struggle to call anything in this au a happy ending so we'll say positive ending

rafe cameron masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

You eat slowly, the already chewy pasta tasting like rubber in your mouth as you stare across the fire. Rafe is sitting there, legs crossed and grimacing as he eats out of his own makeshift bowl. Your eyes move to his left and there she is. Right next to him like she has been since your groups met two weeks ago. 

You aren’t sure why Rafe has decided to join this group. Yes, all of them are around your age, but Rafe has been very adamant about avoiding people since the beginning. The only thing you can think of is that he has a crush on this girl, their leader.

And why wouldn’t he, you think to yourself. She’s pretty, she’s the first woman he’s really interacted with since the apocalypse started (excluding you), and she seems to laugh excessively at all of his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny.

And so, you sit on the other side of the campfire and watch them with icky bubbles of jealousy and anger in your gut. It reminds you of Before, when you felt small and overlooked everywhere you went. It’s not that you even like Rafe, in fact you think he’s a huge dick. However, it had been just the two of you for almost two months and now…

“Hey,” There’s a boy sitting next to you, smiling at you in a way that makes your skin crawl. You stand, abandoning your meal, and head inside your tent. 

Things get worse the next night. 

You wake up having to pee, which already makes you anxious. Peeing in the middle of the woods where anything could find and attack you is certainly an experience. Your heart is already racing wildly when you return to camp, and a voice catches your attention. You instantly recognize Rafe’s deep tone and your steps falter. 

“Where do you want to go?” Rafe asks, his voice finding your ears from the tent you’re next to. Her tent. 

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” Her voice is light and airy, pretty like an actress from an old movie. It makes you want to throw up. “Come on, Rafe. You know the two of us could make it. Right?”

Oh. You seem to understand now. You can hear the shifting of fabric against the tent and Rafe hums in response. You want to return to your own tent, but your feet stay planted firmly where they are. Your suspicions are confirmed when she speaks again.

“We’ll just take what we have and leave. The two of us… we could do it. The others aren’t going to make it anyway, you know?”

Oof.

You don’t hang around for Rafe’s response. Your blood runs cold as you climb back into your tent as quickly as you can. You’re shaking by the time you’re back in your sleeping bag. 

You never really fall back asleep. How can you? It’s just fits of tossing and turning broken by the occasional drift off that leaves you panicked when you wake up. You’re fully convinced that in the morning, you’ll leave your tent to find Rafe gone with all of your supplies. The idea of being abandoned with nothing and left with strangers feels like a death sentence. You shed a few tears, your mind racing, and find yourself wishing that the morning will never come.

You must finally find some sort of unconscious state, because you’re woken up by a shove to your shoulder and a gruff “wake up.” Your heart leaps into your throat, eyelids flying open, only to find Rafe crouched above you in your tent. You aren’t sure what your face does but it seems to make his expression darken.

“Rafe?”

“Get up. Get your stuff. Now.” It’s a demand you wouldn’t second guess even if Rafe was your worst enemy. You scramble to stand, your joints achy and your mind spinning. You roll up your sleeping bag and grab your pack in record time, slipping on your shoes before leaving the tent. 

Rafe is there, grabbing your hand and tugging you behind him. None of the others are around, maybe not even awake yet. Rafe has more on his back than you’d ever be able to carry, and he still moves through the trees like it’s nothing. You glance back in the direction of the camp, and your brain starts to slowly put the pieces together. Rafe took the supplies, and instead of leaving with her, he found you.

“Where are we going?” You ask him, and he sends you a glare. A silent warning to shut up. It works for a while, until the nerves tighten around your throat just as his fingers tighten around your wrist and you can’t help it. “Rafe, what’s going on?”

He whips around, face to face with you, eyes darker than you’ve seen them. You lean back, afraid under the intense heat of his expression. When he speaks, it’s low and threatening.

“Listen,” A few of his nails dig into the skin of your wrist as he tightens his grip further. “You need to not be stupid. Shut the fuck up when I tell you to.”

You don’t listen, despite the fact that you could feel the blood draining from your face with each of his words. “But I thought you were leaving with-”

“I already told you not to be stupid.” He repeats. Rafe lets go of your wrist to run a hand through his short, unruly strands of hair. He adjusts the packs on his back and sighs. “Look, I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”

“But why?” This is the question neither you or Rafe really know the answer to. Rafe is mean, cruel, and clearly unforgiving. He stole supplies from another group and left them for dead without a second thought, but not you. You watch his jaw clench and his eyes harden.

“You’re annoying as fuck, you’re stupid, and you have no clue what you’re doing. Most of the time, I’m convinced you’re going to trip over your own feet, keel over, and die.” Each word feels like a punch to the gut, because you know he isn’t lying. This is the most honest he’s ever been with you. “But… look, I asked you to come with me, didn’t I?”

“Well yes, but-”

“Then don’t make me change my mind. Right now, it’s us and them. We have to survive, and so we’ll do what we need to do.” His eyes drill into your own like he’s trying to see into your soul. And even if you don’t particularly like Rafe Cameron, your insides flutter at the idea that he’s chosen to protect you. 

“Did you steal from them?” You ask quietly, barely a whisper, even though you know the answer. The two extra, fully stuffed to the brim packs on his back are evidence enough for you. 

“She was going to take everything and leave you behind.” Rafe says like that’s enough of an answer for you. You think for him it might be. 

“Are they going to die?” Rafe narrows his eyes at your question, like he’s challenging you to keep asking him things you already know the answer to.

“What did I just say?” Rafe raises his brows, and you know what to say. Because it’s always the same thing.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Now, come on.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[afreauxheaux]

"So the Brave Man walked all by himself to the bridge. Remember how he built the bridge for all his friends? Well, the millions of walkers followed the Brave Man onto the bridge, and on the other side, all his friends were waiting. The Brave Man couldn't let the walkers reach his friends and hurt them, so he blew up the bridge, and all the walkers fell into the water and he saved all his friends. The end."

THE WALKING DEAD 10.1/10.13 | TWD: THE ONES WHO LIVE 1.04/1.05

[maybejj]

BEST WRITER IN TUMBLR!!

what about reader getting bit but it doesnt go through because she was wearing rafes leather jacket like negans

stop i’ll cry omg 🥹 thank you so much! hope this request was what you were looking for!

ALMOST GONE - twd!obx au

cw: swearing, killing zombies, maybank humor in the face of a near death experience lmao

“rafe, i already told you. i don’t want your jacket.”

“too bad. you’re wearing it.” he shot you an annoyed look.

you groaned, lightly banging your head against the car you both were hiding behind. he was exhausting some days.

he didn’t take no for an answer and would argue with a brick wall. most days you hated it. some days it entertained you. right now wasn’t one of them.

“you’re shivering so loud walkers are going to start to notice. do us both a favor and just put the jacket on.” he grumbled. he wasn’t even looking at you while he spoke, too focused on the store across the road. trying to make sure it was clear to walk across.

“fine. but i’m not going to be happy about it. and i’m only doing this because our safety depends on it.” you rolled your eyes and shrugged the jacket on.

it was warm and it did stop your shivering..

“and another thing-“ rafe’s hand immediately covered your mouth and tugged you closer to him, nearly falling in his lap. your eyes widened with anger until he raised a finger to his mouth, telling you to stay quiet, and then pointed to the entrance of the store.

two walkers were shuffling by. you hadn’t even heard them.

rafe’s hand squeezed your wrist where he was still holding you to him. he was tense, eyes narrowed. watching the two walkers roam past.

you and rafe were both silent, not wanting to sound any alarms. the rule was always get in and get out quietly.

you waited 10 more minutes until they were out of sight before crossing the road and quietly opening the door to the rundown store.

the shelves were basically empty but pope had said we hadn’t cleared out this side of town yet so it was worth a shot.

rafe shoved a chair underneath the front door, making sure nothing could stumble in. he nodded to himself then gestured to the first aisle.

“we’ll start on the right and work our way back to the front. see what we can find.”

“it’ll take too long. i’ll go left, you go right-“

“no.”

“rafe, we’ll cover more ground and be out sooner-“

“i said no.”

you huffed, turning to face him, “i’m not asking. i’m telling you. god, could you just for once listen to me and not argue about everything?”

rafe clenched his jaw, arms tensing. he snuck a quick glance around the musty, abandoned store. he didn’t see any other entrances and didn’t hear any shuffling or footsteps. the store wasn’t that big. maybe it would be okay…

“if you see or hear anything…”

you grinned, “knew you’d come around, tough guy.”

you heard rafe scoff as you turned around and started down your respective aisle. it was mainly empty containers, expired food, and kids toys littered throughout the shelves. you kept your knife in hand on instinct.

occasionally you’d hear rafe shifting through his own finds on the other side of the store.

you were just about to reach for a pack of socks when you felt a hand on your shoulder. you turned your head, expecting rafe but instead was met with a decayed, half eaten face.

you let out a scream instantly from the fear of being so close to a walker. adrenaline pumping, you turned around, bringing your hands up to shove it’s chest but it was bigger and kept pushing against you, snapping it’s jaws towards your face.

blood and spit was spraying everywhere, making the grip you had on your knife slip. in a last ditch effort to kill the walker, you shoved your elbow into his chest and raised your hand to it’s head but it took the opportunity to bear all its weight against you, taking you both down to the floor.

you vaguely heard rafe shout your name across the store and a huge crash but didn’t have time to focus when the rotten face lunged towards you again.

this time, latching onto your shoulder and biting down.

hard.

you screamed. this was it. you were done for.

tears streaming down your face, you grabbed the walkers head, your hands easily sinking into the decaying flesh. you put all your strength into pushing it away from you but then you felt its entire body being lifted away from you.

with your chest heaving up and down, you watched as rafe sunk his axe into the walkers head before it slumped over. his wild eyes immediately found yours.

you were holding your shoulder where the walker had chomped down. silent tears still pouring. rafe raced towards you, whispering, “no, no, no, no.”

you shook your head, trying to shove him away but he held your wrists down. he wouldn’t let you push him away this time.

his rough hands started tugging and pulling his jacket off of you. he was clumsy with his actions and his own vision was starting to blur but he couldn’t figure out why.

all he could focus on was seeing if the bite went through.

once he could see your bare skin, his breath caught in his throat. his dirty, blood stained fingers slowly drifted up until he was tracing the outline of your shoulder so delicately and soft you thought you were imaging it.

he stilled.

a sob escaped your throat. you couldn’t look. you knew what you’d see if you did.

“hey, hey, look at me.”

you closed your eyes, shaking your head back and forth. you felt like a child but you couldn’t help it. this was the end for you.

“look. look.” rafe grabbed your chin in his hands and turned your face to the left.

there was no broken skin.

no blood.

no bite.

you gasped. your other hand automatically coming up to the area and feeling for yourself. trying to convince your brain to catch up with what you were seeing.

you looked up at rafe who was leaning back on his heels, breathing heavy.

“i’m not… it didn’t…”

he ran a hand through his hair, hands shaking like he wanted to reach out and grab you. hold you close. “no. it didn’t…” he gulped. that was too close of a call. “it didn’t get you.”

all the tension, the adrenaline, the fear left your body at his words. you body slumped forward, exhausted. rafe looked like he was one second away from bringing the walker back to life and killing it all over again.

you sat in the dark, deserted store staring at each other for awhile until your body finally understood it wasn’t in danger anymore.

once you had time to process what just happened, you let out a nervous laugh.

rafe looked at you like you were insane. his eyebrows raised and furrowed.

“guess i should be glad you made me wear the jacket, huh?”

taglist: @papercranesandinkstains @smokahontas-113

[xoxo-sarah]

If the Roles Were Reversed

My Wife part 2

Part 1

↝a/n: I have been given so much love for the first part and I can't express how grateful I am for it. It fills me with so much joy when people express how much they like my work. I have been asked to make a part two and who am I to say no?

↝pairing: season 1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: season 1 episodes 3 & 4, angst, death, arguing, gore, zombies, typical twd stuff, not proofread, Ed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 1.25.25

Daryl Dixon masterlist

“You can't go, Daryl. Listen to me-” You threw your hands around, watching Daryl pace in front of you. The peaceful expression he once had, when he had reunited with you, was wiped clean off of his face.

He was told the news about Merle and instantly became furious. No matter how much you tried to calm him, it was no use.

His brother was out there. Daryl argued that Merle would be out there looking for him if the roles were reversed.

“Listen, there are too many.” You stepped closer, trying to make him understand, “After the racket everyone made trying to leave, I bet there’s even more now.”

“They left my brother on a roof.” You could tell he was trying his hardest not to yell at you. He was never one to take his anger out on the one person he loves more than anything in the world. He was always gentle with you, just like you deserved.

Sighing, you didn’t know how to counter that. As much as everyone who was waiting on the other side of the R.V wanted you to talk some sense into your husband, Daryl had a point. After all, he had gone out to find you, even against Merle telling him not to.

If it had been Daryl who they had left behind, you would’ve already been in the city, searching. Even if you had to go by yourself, it wouldn’t matter.

None of that changed the fact that it’s dangerous. You couldn’t let him go.

You just got him back.

“He was out of control, you know how he can get. I don’t think they had a choice.” You whispered, trying to convince yourself just as much as him.

Daryl’s nostrils flared, as he tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to lash out on you, he never did. But he was about to break. “Merle is a prick, but he’s my brother.”

With that, Daryl walked around the R.V, shoulder checking Shane, who looked disappointed that you hadn’t helped de-escalate the situation. Daryl was stubborn, there wasn’t much you could do.

Carol quickly went back to what she was doing, not wanting to seem like she was being nosey. Which didn’t do much considering everyone in the camp was waiting. After the brawl that had happened when Daryl was told about Merle, everyone was interested in how this whole situation would turn out. Everyone else tried hiding their obvious interest as Daryl came into view. You walked behind him, head hung low, defeated and slightly scared.

Daryl walked toward the box truck, ready to leave.

Rick walked over to you, “So?”

“You shook your head, “He’s not gonna change his mind. I tried.”

He nodded in understanding. Lori looked on at the interaction. She had been the one to offer Rick showing Daryl the way to Merle. She was adamant on it, but at the same time mad at him for leaving. It was almost like she was testing him, seeing if he would actually leave his family to be the heroic cop from before. She wanted him to choose her and Carl over ‘the right thing to do’.

Rick cleared his throat, “It’ll be alright,” he nodded fiddling with the gun holster before turning back around.

Glenn backed the box truck closer, Daryl impatiently standing in the back. You walked toward him when the vehicle stopped. He squinted down at you against the beating sun, watching as you climbed into the truck.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Going with you.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Four’s enough.”

You didn’t care if Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were also going. You had stayed in the city for a while, you knew your way around. Plus, you would be going for a different reason than the rest. They were going for Merle, you were going for Daryl.

“Stay here.” His voice was softer now. Truthfully, he didn’t want anything to happen to you. You were safer at the camp, with people you had grown comfortable with in such a short amount of time. “They’ll need somebody who knows how to hunt for somethin’ to eat. Fish is gonna get old fast.” You cracked a smile at his slight humor at the situation. Still, you didn’t want him to leave.

Daryl stepped closer, bringing you into his arms, his head resting on yours. The stench of sweat, dirt, and god knows what else didn’t bother either of you. He didn’t care that you didn’t smell like the sweet shampoo he loved, and you didn’t care that he didn’t smell like the body wash that you had bought him the last time you had gone to the store, or the cologne you loved.

“Keep an eye on everybody,” He kissed your forehead, mumbling against the skin, as he stayed close. “Don’t let anyone mess with ya.”

“When do I ever?” A smile threatened to make an appearance. But it wasn’t the time. He was worried about his brother.

Rick walked by, casting a glance back at the two of you, nodding. Inhaling deeply, you moved away from Daryl, jumping down from the truck. He sent you one more look before pulling the roll-up doors down. You stood there, listening to the box truck’s engine start. You continued to stand there even after the truck faded into the distance.

-

Dale watched as you fiddled with the rag he had given you to wipe the sweat off your brow. You kept fidgeting; ever since Daryl left.

He was quick to offer you to help him keep watch, but you were elsewhere ever since you climbed onto the roof of the R.V. You were trying, Dale could tell. But he saw the gears turning in your head, greased with the terrible thought of what could happen to your husband. The thought of Daryl always overpowered any other thought.

His greyed eyebrows raised as you shot up from your seat.

“Think i’m gonna go help with the laundry. To keep myself busy.” Dale didn’t say anything, only moving out of your way so you could climb down.

Making your way to the quarry, you focused on the voices in the distance and the sharp rocks under your feet. You walked past Ed, who sat comfortably in the back of the car, smoking while keeping an eye on Carol. He glanced up, taking a drag of his cigarette. Ignoring him, you carefully navigate your way down the rocks toward where Carol, Jacqui, Andrea, and Amy sat.

“Can somebody explain to me how the women wound up doing all the Hattie McDaniel work?” Jacqui grumbled, watching Shane and Carl fail at catching frogs, their laughter echoing.

“The world ended. Didn’t you get the memo?” Amy wrung the water out of a shirt, flicking hair out of her face. Carol glanced back, looking at Ed. She saw you walking toward them. Sending you a small smile. “It’s just the way it is.” Her eyes fell back to her husband.

“Care for some help?” You squinted at the group through the sun beating down into your eyes. Jacqui motioned to a turned over bucket, “Please.” Giving a tightlipped smile, you sat down ,grabbing a scrub brush and a piece of clothing.

The way the women conversated put you at ease. It was familiar. People at the office that you worked at, were exactly like them.

“I do miss my Maytag.” Carol said, scrubbing clothes against the old washboard.

“I miss my Benz, my Sat Nav.” Andrea added.

“I miss my coffeemaker with that dual-drip filter and built-in grinder, honey.” Jacqui smiled.

Amy pouted, “My computer…and texting.”

“I miss my t.v. And wine. Especially after a long day.” You groaned, remembering the days after work; where you would come home, take your shoes off and get wine and a movie ready. Daryl would come home a little later and join you.

Your reminiscing was cut short by Andrea, “I miss my vibrator.”

Stopping your scrubbing, you looked up at her, a surprised chuckle leaving your lips.

“Ohhhhh.” “Oh my God!”

Carol glanced back at Ed, “Me too.”

You laughed harder, along with the others.

“What’s so funny?”

Just like that, the atmosphere was ruined. Ed walked down, instantly taking the joy out of the air.

“Just swapping war stories, Ed,” Andrea looked back at him, before looking over at Carol. “Yeah.”

Ed walked closer. From your spot beside Carol, you could feel Ed looming behind. Carol instinctively folded in on herself, head sinking into her shoulders.

“Problem, Ed?” Andrea glared at him.

“None that concerns you,” He took another puff of his cigarette, “and you ought to focus on your work. This ain’t no comedy club.”

Andrea huffed, plopping the brush in the tin bucket.

“Just trying to make the best out of a bad situation.” You looked at him, face blank. He stared down at you. You waited for him to say something else. Surprisingly he only blew the smoke out, throwing the butt away. He stepped back, lighting another. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the laundry. Andrea stood, walking toward him.

“Ed, tell you what, you don’t like how your laundry is done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here,” She threw the soaking wet piece of clothing in her hands at him.

He threw it back. Andrea gasped. “Ain't my job, missy.”

Amy stood, wanting to de-escalate the situation. She touched Andrea’s arm, “Andrea, don’t.”

“What is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass, smoking cigarettes?”

You glanced at Carol, who sat quietly, still working.

“Well, it sure as hell ain’t listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch. Tell you what,” He motioned for Carol, who was out of her seat in a second. You grabbed her arm before she could fully stand up. You could see the fear and timidness in her eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He continued to beckon her.

You stood, keeping a soft but comforting grip on her arm.

“I don’t think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed.” Andrea continued.

Carol glanced up from the ground for a split second, meeting your eyes. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble. She would be dragged back to camp by Ed if that meant nothing else would happen. She knew Ed, what he was capable of.

“And I say that’s none of your business.” Ed beckoned for Carol again. “Come on, now. You heard me.”

Carol moved away from your grip. Andrea turned to her, “Carol,”

“Andrea, please. It doesn’t matter.”

Ed glared at the interaction, “Hey, don’t think I won't knock you on your ass, just ‘cause you some college-educated cooze, alright?”

Andrea scoffed at the audacity of the male in front of her. You stepped forward, grabbing Carol by the shoulder. You weren’t about to let her go with him when he was clearly becoming hostile.

“Now you come on now or you gonna regret it later.”

You softly said her name, ignoring her husband’s glare, and stepped closer to her in a protective manner.

“So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed?” Jacqui piped up for the first time since Ed walked over. “Yeah, we’ve seen them.”

Ed chuckled, “Stay out of this,” his harsh gaze pierced through his wife. “Now come on! You know what, this is none of y’all’s business. You don’t want to keep prodding the bull here, okay? Now I am done talkin’. Come on!”

You cringed at his words, moving in front of Carol as he walked closer. He ignored you, reaching around to grab at her arm with a harsh grip. The embarrassment was clear on her face. He pulled, knocking your balance slightly off as he yanked Carol from behind you. Her shoulder crashed into yours, feet moving in a jumble over your own.

“No. No, Carol. You don’t have-”

Carol muttered something under her breath, ignoring Andrea.

Ed swung around, spitting in Carol’s face. “You don’t tell me what! I tell you what!” His grip tightened, jagged nails biting into the soft skin of her upper arm. She whimpered quietly at the force. He raised his hand, striking her against the face. Gasping, you caught her as she fell back, grabbing her reddening cheek.

Everyone clamoured; Andrea hitting and pushing him away, you cursing him as Carol started crying. She fell further into you, as you held her protectively, hauling her away from him.

Ed was pulled back and thrown to the ground, before being dragged by the back of his shirt. Shane threw him further into to the ground, before throwing a punch, and another straight after.

“No!” Carol cried, trying to get away. Shane kept throwing punches, more skin breaking every time his fist hit Ed’s face. Carol covered her mouth, body swaying.

“Shane, stop!” “Enough! Enough!” “Just stop!”

Shane stopped, pointing a finger in Ed’s swollen and bloodied face. “You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anybody else in this camp one more time, I will not stop next time. Do you hear me?” He grabbed Ed’s face, squishing it in the process. “Do you hear me?!”

Ed slurred, “Yes.”

Shane let go, pointing again. “I’ll beat you to death, Ed.” With one final punch, he stood, kicking the man on the ground and walking away.

“God!” Carol cried, using strength you had never seen from her before, to break from you, running over to her husband.

-

The tension in the camp was suffocating after that. There was a tiny victory after Andrea and Amy went fishing and brought back dinner, but it was short lived. Jim had been found digging graves, which disturbed a lot of you.

Night fell and everyone began eating the fish-fry.

You smiled at Sophia as she passed the pan of fish. She was well-mannered; all thanks to Carol. She was a shy girl, but became a seemingly different kid when she was around other kids. She found friends in a world that would probably take them away before you could blink. She, along with the other kids, didn’t understand what was out there, all of the bad. They held an innocence that would be demolished in front of your eyes.

“I gotta ask you, man. It’s been driving me crazy.” One of the men that you met in the city, Morales, spoke up, directing it at Dale.

“What?”

“That watch,” he pointed at the watch on Dale’s wrist.

Dale smiled, “What’s wrong with my watch?”

Morales continued, “I see you everyday, the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass.”

“I’ve wondered this myself.” Jacqui smiled.

Dale threw his hands up playfully, “I’m missing the point.”

You looked between him and his watch, the fire casting a warm gleam over it, brightening the brown leather.

“Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while.” Jacqui shrugged her shoulders.

“But there’s you, everyday, winding that stupid watch.” Morales raised his eyebrows at the old man.

“Time- it’s important to keep track, isn’t it? The days, at least. Don’t you think, Andrea? Back me up here.”

They shared a knowing look, their faces glowing in the fire from where you sat. She sent him a seemingly warning glare, but his smile didn’t falter.

“I like- I like what, um, a father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said “I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father’s before me; I give it to you not that you may remember time, not that you may forget it for a moment now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.””

Huh,” Morales nodded at the answer, not really expecting it.

Everyone sat in silence around the fire, before Amy broke it, “You are so weird.”

Laughter echoed as you took a swig of beer. It wasn’t wine, but it wasn’t pure water so it would do.

“It’s not me. It’s Faulkner, William Faulkner.”

Amy rolled her eyes at Dale.

The older man chuckled, “Maybe my bad paraphrasing.”

Amy stood, walking away from the fire. Andrea stopped her, “Where are you going?”

“I have to pee.” The younger sister raised her brows, “Jeez, you try to be discreet around here.” She quickly walked off, toward the R.V.

Dale turned to you, “What about you? You fiddle with that on your wrist.” You looked down at the bulky thing around your wrist. “Was my dog’s collar.” Dale’s smile turned sad. While rushing out of your house, you had grabbed the collar from the leash you would walk her around the block with. Her name was embroidered; a gift from Daryl when he first surprised you with a puppy.

You tightened it into a bracelet, holding her memory close. Truthfully, you had forgotten about it being on your wrist. You didn’t notice how much you fidgeted with it. Dale did, when you were on watch with him.

You didn’t think about the dog for long.

The R.V door opened, and Amy stepped out. “We’re out of toilet paper?” She yelled. Before she could get an answer, a hand grabbed her forearm from behind the other side of the door. She stood in shock as a walker moved closer to her. She screamed, feeling the walker bite down.

Your head instantly snapped up, eyes growing wide at the sight. More walkers came from each direction, limping forward. Everyone screamed, jumping up. Parents grabbed their kids, others grabbed weapons. Gunshots echoed, making your ears ring. You were quick to instinctively reach for your gun. Unfortunately, that gun was still in Glenn’s bag with no bullets.

A hand on your shoulder had you swiveling around, pushing the walker that simply snarled at you. Pushing with all your strength, you didn’t wait for it to hit the ground before you were running.

Another walker stumbled toward you from behind, dirty nails digging into your skin. This walker was closer, a stench wafting into your nose before you could push it away. You tried, but from the angle in which the walker had grabbed you, you could only push its head away, fingers avoiding its snipping teeth.

You screamed, still hearing Shane unload his gun in the distance.

Andrea wailed, watching another walker bite a gash out of Amy’s shoulder, right where her neck meets it.

The grip tightened on you, making you hiss. Their nails were long and had the bite to prove it. One final hit had the walker staggering back, grip falling off. You turned, running toward the R.V, where Shane, Lori, Carol, Morales, and their families were. More gunfire rang out.

Making it to the vehicle, you turned back, seeing Daryl and the others coming out of the woods. He was the first out, head snapping in ebery direction. The other were soon to follow.

Daryl spotted you. He looked around, making sure no more walkers were around, before running toward you. Your bodies collided, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He pulled back, “You hurt?”

“No, i don’t think- I don’t know.”

You were in shock, your jumbled words and wide eyes proving it. You couldn’t think. You rubbed where you were scratched.

In your time since the world ended, you had hidden in the top floor of a building. If you were ever met with danger, you always had a gun or knife handy.

Tonight, you were completely unprepared.

In the dark, you couldn't tell if the skin of your arm was broken. Clinging back to Daryl, you turned your head to where Andrea laid beside Amy. Blood pooled around them. Amy’s body went limp, sending Andrea to sobs. Closing your eyes tightly, you turned back to Daryl, pushing your face into his neck. He held you close, hiding the shake in his hands.

He had heard your scream.

That’s what had him running through the woods with only you in mind, leaving the other behind.

Part 3

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

Tags from the last chapter who wanted part 2: @notmirnda @vomiting-blood @i93jjk @multifandomfan @gaudesstuff @cymbalta-slut

[wintfleur]

thinking about Daryl Dixon dating a book worm girly . . . they would meet on the Greene farm. She was a good friend of Hershel’s son Shawn, and stayed and lived with the family when the outbreak started. She would spend most of her time with Hershel and Beth or with her face in a book . . . she would like to be alone a lot, having her own spot on the farm away from the house where she could peacefully read and not have to worry about interacting with anyone, a spot that used to be her and Shawn’s . . . also a spot where Daryl decides to set up his own small camp away from everyone . . . well everyone but her. He would be hesitant at first to approach her when he gets back from another search for Sofia, seeing her leaning up against a tree with a thick book in her lap. He’d seen her around a few times in the short amount of time he’s been at the farm, only with Beth or Hershel. He’d ask her what she wants, assuming that she was waiting for him. She’d apologize, saying that she just wanted to be away from everyone, and surprising the both of them he said with a grunt she could stay as long as she didn’t touch his shit or start reading aloud. And for the first time he sees a small smile on her lips . . . but it was quickly covered when she lifted her book up from her lap.

Time-skip to after the farm falls and before they find the prison. They would become closer . . . well as close as two antisocial and closed off people could get. It was more like they found comfort in each other’s silent presence. She was so good at being quiet and finding her way around in the woods that she would often join daryl tracking/hunting. The first time daryl sees her smile since the farm is when he gives her a book he found in the trunk of an abandoned car. Since she couldn’t carry a bunch of books since they were traveling, every time she was done with a book he’d try and search for another to switch it with . . . would let her quietly mumble about the book she was reading when she couldn’t sleep and he was on watch. Would walk next to her as she walks n reads, making sure she wouldn’t trip.

When they make it to the prison, he’d bring her back multiple books whenever he goes out looking for supplies, and over time the small desk she had in her cell was cluttered with books . . . all from daryl. He would let her ramble about her books whenever they were on watch in the watch tower, him standing up and looking out while she comfortably sat on the floor with her book. He’d realize his feelings for her at the strange and unfamiliar feeling he felt in his chest as he watched her read a book to Carl and Beth who was holding Judith.

Time-skip to when they are now together, he would come back late from his shift at the look out tower in the prison and would check on her in there cell, expecting to see her sleeping since it was late . . . Instead she was curled up in her bed, technically now there bed, reading with a lit candle next to her. Not wanting to sleep without him by her side . . . and wanting to also finish another chapter. Whenever daryl would wake up from a nightmare she would quietly read to him, taking him out of his tortured mind and into the lovely world of her book. Whenever she was too focused on a book he’d surprise her with a kiss on her cheek or lips . . . completely stealing her attention. All she would have to do is bat her eyelashes and say please and daryl would fold . . . reading to her when she’s to tired to read herself, she feels so safe and warm when she’s in his arms as she listens to him read to her . . . he always kisses her forehead when he notices she fell asleep, tucking her bookmark a few pages back, knowing that she probably wouldn’t remember the last few pages he read to her.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( take this as my application to write for twd !!! I wrote this in 20 minutes at 1am, soo it’s probably not the best I just couldn’t sleep without getting this written down. Please let me know if I should continue writing for twd . . . I’m currently rewatching the show and my love for daryl just grows stronger !!! Again please let me know what you guys think, don’t be a silent reader <333 )

main masterlist twd masterlist

[holdmytesseract]

Dad-to-be!Daryl fighting tooth and nail to keep the reader—who’s water had broken while they were on a walking around in the Hilltop—safe while trying to get her back to Alexandria so that Siddiq and Carol can help with the delivery of their little one. (Plus maybe the post-delivery fluff that ensues when Daryl and reader get their first moments alone with their baby.)

No pressure to write this! I just saw your post asking for dad!Daryl requests and had this idea, and thought I’d throw it your way. Love you whether you write this or not. 💜

In the Eye of the Storm

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: You go into labor while staying at the renewed Sanctuary. Daryl has to safely get you back home to Alexandria, of course - through a thunderstorm...

Warnings: usual TWD stuff, pregnancy, childbirth, baby things, mentions of blood, weapons, quite a bit angst, fluff, protective!Daryl

I tried to write this as accurate as possible. I'm no expert, heh.

Set in the beginning of season 9!

Word Count: 4,5k (whoops)

a/n: I'm not kidding when I say that I literally pounced that request. Gods, I loved to write this! Thanks for requesting, @dixons-sunshine ! I hope I did this justice! 🥹

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

Daryl had a critical gaze directed at the darkening sky above him. The wind had picked up; bringing dark clouds over the Sanctuary. A thunderstorm was approaching - and fast.

Unbeknownst to him, had the archer started to chew on the inside of his bottom lip; causing you to gently squeeze his side. "Earth to Mr. Dixon," you giggled; trying to get his attention. "You okay, Dar?" The archer blinked and lowered his gaze back to you - his wife, who was neatly tucked against his side on a walk through the yard of the renewed Sanctuary; past the not yet growing crops which had been planted. You smiled up at him - slightly grimaced, but you smiled. He shook his head; "I shoulda been askin' you tha', sunshine..." eyes drifting to your prominent baby bump. You took a deep breath, but nodded. "Just Braxton Hicks, you know..."

Daryl's eyes drifted from your eyes to your (yet) unborn baby and back; a mix of worry and fear swimming in his blue-greyish orbs. You could tell. "Ya been havin' them already the whole day... Since we got up this mornin'. Ya sure this ain't the real thing?" Now you were the one shaking your head. "No. I promise, we're okay." "A'righ'." The archer jutted his chin towards the factory and looked back up in the sky. "Let's get ya back inside," he prompted and gave your hip a soft squeeze, before he started to walk; urging you on to follow. You nodded and scrunched your nose. "Yeah... Looks like rain."

With the first roll of thunder, Daryl closed the door behind you and him, without his hand leaving your body for even a second. He was so adamant to always be by your side; steady you and help you walk, it was ridiculously cute. It made you fall in love with the archer even more - not knowing it was even possible.

You giggled; one hand on the small of your back, the other on top of your belly. "Babe, you know I can stand on my own, right?" "Don care. Want ya close. 'Specially round 'ere... Ain't trustin' 'em..." You knew of course what he meant. The smile on your face immediately vanished; replaced by a concerned frown.

You understood Rick's intention; wanting to make Carl's last wish true. You'd do the same for your own child - within a heartbeat. You just didn't understand why Rick had charged Daryl of all people with the supervision of the Sanctuary. Sure, he was his bother, his right-hand-man, the one he possibly trusted most besides Michonne, but... After everything Daryl has been through here? After all the psychological torture? You knew it wasn't easy for your husband to be here. Even though he didn't say anything. You could feel it.

You took a step towards the archer; invading his space. Placing a hand on his chest and the other on his cheek, you scanned his face. "Daryl... You... You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be the one having to do this. I'll have a-" You stopped dead in your sentence; eyes widening and heart leaping into your throat at the feeling you had just experienced. Daryl was immediately on alert; completely ignoring what you had just said. "Y/N?! Wha's goin' on?!" His free hand came to rest on the bump which was his child instantly.

You swallowed hard; taking a step away from him again and looked down yourself. A prominent wet patch was spreading across the crotch and inner thighs of your maternity sweatpants. "I-I think..." Your husband's eyes followed yours quick; realisation dawning on him right away. It could mean only two things...

1) You peed yourself.

Or

2) Your water broke.

The archer begged internally to whatever force above that it was not the latter. "Please tell me ya peed yerself..." Daryl mumbled under his shaky breath; already slightly on edge. It wasn't a fortunate moment for the baby to make their appearance... You were at the Sanctuary, for God's sake! Rosita and Eugene were the only one here you could truly trust. Not much medical supplies and even less people who knew how to birth a baby either.

"I-I'm honestly not sure, Dar..." He nodded; trying to keep his calm. "A'right. Let's, uh, get ya in a fresh pair of pants 'n check?" "Uh.Huh," you answered; nervously nibbling on your lip as well. You actually didn't want to 'do this to Daryl' now, but it wasn't like you could take a pick. It wasn't in your hands... It was in the tiny hands of the peanut living in your belly.

You felt your husband's strong arm around your waist once again; supporting you as best as he could and helping you to walk through the darkish, grey hallways of the 'former' enemies hideout and towards your shared room.

After the sweatpants and your panties were not much longer on your body, you and Daryl realised quickly that you did certainly not pee yourself. It was a different... substance - which meant the one thing the both of you hoped it wouldn't be... Your water broke.

"O-Oh, fuck, that's..." You cut off your own sentence; "W-What are we, uh, going to do now?" swallowing hard and balancing on one foot, while you gripped Daryl's shoulder as he helped you step inside a fresh pair of underwear and sweatpants.

The archer looked up at you; panic swimming in his blue-grey orbs. You could tell that his mind was working on overdrive to find an answer to your question. "I-I dunno, sunshine, I-" He inhaled a deep breath; eyes darting around the room. "Ya can't have the peanut here... 'S no doctor 'round. I ain't risking tha'..." Daryl shook his head and stood up; palms immediately lading on your hips. "W-We gotta get ya back to Alexandria. To Siddiq. Now." You nodded; clenching your jaw at the incoming contraction - and Daryl noticed, of course. "'N we gotta time 'em contractions. C'mon."

Trusting your husband and his decision making blindly, you quickly threw a few things you might needed in Daryl's beige backpack, while he was informing Rosita about the situation you found yourself in.

It didn't take the archer more than a few minutes to return to your side; giving you a helping hand and finally walking you back to the door, which led to the yard - but once he opened it, a harsh breeze hit him (and you) instantly; rain splattering across your faces.

Fuck... The thunderstorm... Daryl had totally forgotten about the weather conditions; too occupied with you and the baby. You did, too.

"Fuckin' shit," the archer cursed under his breath; trying to shield you from the rain with his broad body. "Well, that's gonna be a fun car ride, eh?" You halfway joked; trying to lift the mood, but without success. "I'll get the truck; park as close as somehow possible. No matter wha'... We have ta get ya back home."

The Sanctuary had borrowed a truck from the Hilltop for moving things and other 'heavy' stuff. It was the only car option Daryl got. Of course he couldn't take his bike. Hell no.

"Ya wait inside. Don want ya ta get wet 'n cold." You nodded; bracing yourself beside the door against the wall. "Ya good bein' alone?" Once again you nodded; giving him another half-smile. "Go." He gave you a last once over, before he stepped out in the rain to get the truck.

Soaked to the bones, he helped you down the stairs then and outside; sitting you in the passenger seat of the truck; not letting go of you for even a second. "Y-You're soaked, baby..." You noticed with a furrowed brow; concerned. "You'll catch a cold if you-" Your husband immediately interrupted you; shaking his head and squeezing your hand. "Doesn't matter. This ain't 'bout me. 'S 'bout ya 'n the baby."

You knew that arguing would be just a waste of time. It wouldn't help. And honestly were you way too tensed and stressed to discuss. So you said nothing.

"Ya comfortable, sunshine? Tha' okay fer now?" His voice was on edge. You could see how hard he was trying to not lose it. This spurred you even more on to keep a cool head yourself. After all, this was your first birth. Your first child. You wanted to panic and give into the nervousness, concern and fear, but you knew you couldn't. You had to try at least. For Daryl.

You nodded and gave him a soft smile. "Y-Yeah, I- We're good, I-I think. Thanks, babe." The small smile he gave you was sloshing over with nervosity and concern, but he tried as well.

Daryl quickly rounded the car and got inside the driver's seat; immediately starting the engine. "Let's get ya home." He started to drive, while you tried to focus on your breathing like Carol taught you. Both your hands splayed on your big baby bump; feeling the subtle movements of the child within you.

Some time passed until the next contraction hit you. You breathed through it; grimacing. "Damnit..." You gasped once the waves of pain subsided; noticing how Daryl gazed back and forth between a watch around his wrist you never saw before and the street. "Been 'bout forty minutes since the last one." You swallowed hard. "T-That's already quite close, isn't it?" He shrugged his shoulder. "I dunno, but... Feels like it." You shifted slightly in your seat and placed a hand on Daryl's hand, which was gripping the gear shift for dear life. "We're gonna make it, 'kay? Everything's gonna be okay," you tried to reassure Daryl - and yourself. You could see how he chewed on his bottom lip. "Shouldn't 'ave taken ya with me... Shoulda left ya back home where ya 'n the baby 'r safe 'n taken care of. Hell, I shouldn't 'ave left at all... 'S my fault tha' we gotta do this now."

You immediately shook your head and gave his hand another squeeze. "Dar, this is everything, but your fault. I was the one encouraging you to go... And I practically begged you to take me along, because I can't stand to be away from you - especially now. I knew the risk, but I made the decision. If anyone's to blame, it's me." Your husband just scoffed at your words and just as he actually wanted to answer, the sight of the street a few miles ahead forced him to stop the truck.

The thunderstorm hadn't calmed down in the slightest; was raging on and had caused a tree to fall and land in the middle of the street. "Shit... 'S too big ta move it... We have ta take a different road." His eyes landed on you, just like his hand on your swollen belly. "Can ya both hang on a lil' while longer? 'S a stupid question, ain't it?" You shook your head and gave him the most convincing smile you could muster in that moment. "It's not. I-I'll try... Right, peanut?" You addressed your unborn baby. "We'll try."

Unfortunately wasn't the fallen tree the only obstacle you had to overcome on your rushed journey to Alexandria... The storm was going on and definitely took its toll on the nature. And that wasn't the only problem... The night had settled over the world and the dead weren't exactly a help as well, and at some point were your contractions only fifteen minutes apart... It was a race against the time now - and your upcoming nerves. The closer you got to actually birthing your child, the worse it became. Fifteen minutes apart and you didn't even know if everything was fine and going the way it should down there. It was excruciating.

"Sonofabitch," you suddenly heard Daryl exclaim, which snapped you out of your thoughts. Lifting your gaze, you instantly understood what caused his small outburst... A few walkers were exactly in your way; stuck in the rain soaked, muddy ground. "Have ta get rid of 'em, sunshine," Daryl stated and already moved to unsheathe his knives from their confines; his barely dried clothes about to get soaked all over again. "I-I can help-" "Hell nah," he cut you off immediately; scoffing. "Yer stayin' right here inside the truck where ya 'r safe. I ain't riskin' a damn thing. Gotta keep ya safe." You nodded in defeat; realising once more that arguing wouldn't get you anywhere.

Daryl gave you a stern but loving look, before he took a deep breath and exited the truck. Anxiously, you watched your husband fighting off the undead threat. Sure, most of them were kinda stuck, but the noises had attracted more walkers... The headlights of the truck provided enough light for you to see what was going on in front of you, but not besides and certainly not behind the vehicle. The relentless rain made it difficult to see straight as well, and when another, much worse contraction hit you and the pain managed to blur your vision entirely, you lost sight of Daryl. Sweat was dripping over your brow as you couldn't hold back the scream which wanted to break free from your lips; hands clutching your baby bump. "O-Oh f-fuck..." Your fingers clenched into fists as you tried to breathe through the contraction. Agonisingly slow subsided the pain; leaving you breathless. You looked around through the windows; trying to find your husband. But you couldn't see him. It was quiet. Except for the running engine and the rain drumming down on the truck.

"D-Daryl?!" You called out; knowing very well that he couldn't hear you. Uneasiness crept up in you; threatening to cut off your airways and sent your anxiety skyrocketing. It didn't help that you were on edge already... What if something happened to him? What if he got bit? What if he...? Your brain already conjured the worst case scenarios, as suddenly two pale hands slammed against the window pane beside you; the tow curling growl almost giving you a heart attack. "Fucking hell!" You squeaked and clutched your now rapidly beating heart.

The hands clawed and scratched at the wet glass - but to your sheer endless relief didn't they stay long. With a dull thud hit the undead man's skull the window; blood splattering everywhere, before it got slowly washed away. The hands stilled, before they entirely disappeared. Blinking, you watched it happen, still somewhat caught up in your thoughts. But then, the driver's door got opened and slammed quickly shut again. A familiar grunt urged to your ears - and you could've cried of relief and happiness.

"Daryl!" You more or less whimpered; shifting in your seat as good as you could and turned to him; taking in his water and blood soaked appearance. Some blood was on his cheeks and water dripped down his long, brown hair. You reached for him; grabbed onto his wet sweatshirt and slippery vest. "A-Are you okay? I-I lost sight of you a-and..." You hiccuped; taking a deep breath. The archer immediately nodded and leaned in for a sweet, soft kiss; letting you feel that he was alive and well, before he moved to take your hands in his bigger ones. "'M good, sunshine. 'S a'right. 'M here." His blue eyes scanned your body then; lips pressed together in worry. "Wha' 'bout you?"

You swallowed hard. "H-Had another contraction..." His eyes widened. "Darlin', you had one barely ten minutes ago..." "I know." Daryl looked at you a few moments longer, before he gently let go of your hands and gripped the steering wheel instead. "We gotta keep movin'," he mumbled and kept on driving - and you knew he was right.

Luckily the truck didn't get stuck in the muddy mess ahead of you... That would've been the cherry on top.

It took you longer than planned to drive back to Alexandria, but in the end you finally made it - most likely just in time. You swore you were never that happy before to see the familiar gates of the place you called home. Daryl felt the same. You could tell.

The thunder and lighting had ceased by now. It was still raining, but not as bad. Due to the bad weather conditions was nobody on watch, but the archer knew that at least one person was positioned up in the windmill; looking out for threats from up there. So, he gave whoever was up there a sign; flashing the truck head lights three times and signalling that friends were standing in front of the walls and not enemies.

"Jus' a few minutes longer, sunshine. Almost there," Daryl tried to reassure you as he gently squeezed your hand. You just nodded; occupied with taking deep breaths.

Moments later, the gates got opened for Daryl to drive through, which he immediately did and headed straight for the infirmary; parking the car as close as he could get.

The approaching headlights must've caught Siddiq's attention, since the doctor immediately went to the door; trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. He watched the archer quickly rounding the vehicle; getting soaked in the rain a third time. "Daryl?!" Siddiq called out; switching on his porch light. "What-" Daryl didn't let the man finish; cut him off mid sentence as he opened the door and helped you out. "Need yer help! Y/N's in labor!"

Siddiq didn't need more information. He knew and was immediately on high alert. The doctor opened the door and let the both of you in; instantly helping Daryl to steady you. Usually, he would've asked about your condition, but Siddiq knew the moment he saw you. "How far apart are the contractions?" You wanted to answer, but Daryl did for you. "'Bout six minutes." The black haired man nodded, "You got here just in time, I'd say." and helped you sit on the bed inside the room he had led you and Daryl in. "I'm afraid we have to get you out of these..." Siddiq nodded at your sweatpants. "Daryl, would you...?" Your husband's eyes were locked on you as he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I got it. C'mon, sunshine."

While Daryl helped you shimmy down your pants and panties, Siddiq prepared some things he needed in the upcoming hour(s)... Towels, gloves and some other medical stuff.

"Alright. I have to check on you. Is that alright?" Siddiq asked carefully; knowing how... protective and territorial the other present man in the room could get. You nodded; trying your hardest to not scream due to the contraction you were going through. The doctor noticed and placed a reassuring hand on your knee. "Deep breaths, Y/N. We got this, okay?" You gave your friend another nod, before he went to check as soon as your contraction subsided again.

"You're about eight centimetres dilated, I'd say." "'N tha' means?" Daryl spoke up with your hand neatly tucked in his, as he was standing by your side. "Two more and she'll be able to start pushing. Means, your baby will see the light of day in the next one or two hours." The colour visibly drained from the archer's face. He knew that he'd be a dad soon, but... That soon? You, on the contrary just groaned and threw your head against the pillow. "Thank fuck. I want this to be over... Hurts like a bitch - and I finally want to hold my baby."

Siddiq witnessed both very different reactions and tried to hide a smile; quickly deciding to give the soon-to-be-dad a little task to keep him from freaking out.

"Daryl?" The archer's gaze lifted from where he was staring at the floor and gnawing nervously on his thumb. "Could you get Carol? I might need her assistance." Daryl frowned in confusion, but the feeling which started to flood his veins was happiness. "She's here?" Siddiq nodded with a smile. "Yes. She was on the road and decided to stay for a few days. Might as well call it providence." The man nodded; shaking a few bangs of wild brown curls from his face and nibbled on his bottom lip again, but turned to you; needing your permission. "'S a'right if I go 'n get 'er, darlin'?" You nodded; sweat doting your forehead. "As long as you'll come back to me... Go. I'm in good hands." Your husband gave you a loving look and gently squeezed your hand, before he let go to get himself soaked in rain again - for the nth time... Not that he cared, though.

The archer didn't even had to ask where to look for his best friend. He knew. After all has she been sharing a house with the both of you, before she moved to the Kingdom. Where else to look but there

Opening the main door, he stepped inside; calling out for his friend. "Carol?!" It didn't take long for the grey haired woman to peak out from the kitchen in the hallways; frowning. The frown immediately vanished, though, when she saw who the 'intruder' was... "Daryl?" A bright smile darted over her face, as she quickly bridged the distance to hug her best friend. They hadn't seen each other in a while after all.

"Ya good?" He simply asked; definitely enjoying the embrace of the woman he got luckily stuck with since the very beginning of this shit show. "Yeah, I am. What about you? And especially Y/N?" Daryl instantly retreated from the hug; a frightening, but also happy look on his face. "W-Well, uh... S-She's in labor. 'S why I brought 'er back here... Siddiq sent me ta ask for yer help..." Carol's eyes widened, but she immediately scrambled for the kitchen to turn off the stove. "Of course, I'm coming to help! Can't miss my best friend becoming a daddy, can I?"

Daryl blinked. "Best friend? Really?" Carol ignored his sceptical question and grabbed him by the shoulders instead; turning him around and maneuvering him towards the door. There were more important things to do now than discuss that.

Siddiq's predictions had been quite on spot. About one and an half hour, quite a few painful contractions and several tiring and debilitating pushes later, you finally held your baby in your arms. Since the doctor's announcement that you gave birth to a - as far as he could tell, healthy little girl, Daryl's mind had gone blank. He was physically present, but mentally, he was somewhere lost in a haze; trying to process the life-changing information... A girl. His daughter. He was a father now. A father!

Of course, you noticed. Carol and Siddiq did, too and all of you decided to give him the space and time he needed right now; just letting him stare at the white wall across your bed.

Only once the afterbirth was done, you getting cleaned up as well as the baby, the umbilical cord cut by Carol (Daryl would've most likely fainted if he was asked to do it. He already looked as white as a ghost...), a few further instructions and information shared by both your friends, and your newborn daughter wrapped up in a diaper and a slightly too big beige romper suit with cute teddy bears on it, you decided to try to guide your husband out of the haze he still was in. Especially now that you were given some time alone...

"Daryl?" You called out softly; voice barely above a whisper to not startle him. He didn't react, so you tried again... Same result. Freeing a hand from the baby tucked against your chest, you reached out to gently touch his arm. "Babe..." You whispered; letting your palm glide down the length of the limb and brushing the clammy skin of his hand. "Hey..." That seemed to finally do the trick...

The archer blinked and redirected his glance; eyes focusing on you instead. "'M sorry, sunshine, I-" His words quickly died in his throat, when he finally saw his daughter nestled against you; greedily suckling on your exposed right breast and making the cutest little noises he had ever heard. You smiled tiredly and slipped your fingers through his; giving them a soft squeeze. "Your baby girl, Daryl... Your daughter..." He swallowed and lifted his free hand; almost hesitatingly hovering over the infant, before his pointer finger came into contact with her soft cheek.

Daryl gasped; releasing a breath he didn't even know he was holding. You watched the interaction with loving eyes; only now noticing that the small girl had stopped nursing and was wriggling around in your hold instead. Her eyes were closed and she had her legs pulled up against her belly; tiny fingers clenching and unclenching.

Your husband had cupped her head now, which was covered in a dark brown fuzz. "She's perfect, darlin'..." Daryl whispered after a long moment; smiling that smile you loved so much.

"Do you want to hold her?"

That question caused Daryl's hand to immediately stop caressing his daughter's head. "I-I..." He stammered; nervous, yet with such a strong urge. "Y-Yeah, I... I wanna hold 'er." You patted the empty space on the bed beside you. "C'mere, then." The archer followed your 'command' and switched from the chair to sit on the bed. Only now did you notice that he hadn't changed yet and that the shirt he wore was still damp. Worry roared to life within you. You didn't want him to catch a cold or even something worse...

"Baby, you should change... I don't want you to get sick..." Daryl shook his head. "Do want ta leave ya..." "I know..." You bit your lip; uncertain if you should propose the suggestion in your mind or not. "Then, uh... How about you take the shirt and vest off? Carol and Siddiq won't be here for at least another hour and skin-on-skin contact with your daughter would be good, too... Helps her bond with you." You gave him a soft smile. "It's your decision, though. I won't force you to do anything."

You could practically see the gears turning in your husband's head, but in the end he nodded and started to peel the damp clothes off his upper body. Once he was shirtless, you started to transfer the little girl over to her father. "Make sure to support her head, Dar," you instructed him; noticing his eager nod, and suddenly was the infant tucked in the crook of his arm. She snuggled against his bare chest; definitely enjoying the warmth of his skin.

And suddenly the world stopped to turn around Daryl.

He gazed down at the tiny human being he helped create - and she was the most wonderful, beautiful creature his eyes had ever seen (besides you, of course). Love flooded his veins; heart threatening to slosh over with the warm feeling.

Yes... He'd rip the world apart to keep her safe. Anything. Just to make sure his girls were protected.

You watched your husband and newborn daughter; a tired, but happy look on your face, and you realised soon, that everything had been worth it... Everything you've gone through. Every obstacle you and Daryl had to overcome, just to get here - to experience this moment. She was worth it.

You smiled. Yeah... You could definitely get used to Daryl being a dad...

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @stiveroon @cakesandtom @mayday2007

[b1eedthefreak]

not sure if this has already been done but maybe daryl helping and comforting fem!reader whilst she’s having a panic attack? would be nice to read over this every time they happen and imagine daryl comforting me🙏

is that weird of me

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Got You

⌇daryl dixon x reader

summary⌇after a supply run goes wrong, you have a panic attack back at the gates. daryl’s the first one at your side

warnings⌇panic attack (breathing issues, anxiety spiraling), hurt/comfort,

word count⌇1.0k

a/n⌇anon i loved this request and it was not weird at all!! panic attacks are normal—you’d think we’d see more of them in twd universe!!! but anyways i hope you enjoy this! 🫰

The gates of Alexandria loomed ahead like salvation.

But your legs didn’t seem to believe it.

Neither did your lungs.

You were almost there…just steps from the wall, but your chest caved in like it’d forgotten how to expand. You didn’t realize you’d dropped the bag from the run until the sound of cans and dry goods hit the pavement beside you. The moment they did, everything started spinning. The herd of walkers came out of nowhere. The air was thick. Your hands were shaking. You couldn’t breathe. You managed to hide.

You stumbled back, pressing yourself against the wall, trying not to cry, trying not to scream, but—

“Hey, hey—”

Daryl’s voice cut through the fog.

He was there—like he always wasc boots heavy against the ground, face pulled into that tight, worried look only you ever saw. Not anger. Not annoyance.

Worry. Real, raw worry.

His hands didn’t touch you right away. He knew better.

“Hey, look at me. Breathe.” His voice was low but firm. “C’mon, baby. Right here. Just breathe.”

You gasped—another failed attempt—and your knees buckled, but Daryl caught you before you hit the dirt.

One arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand sliding into yours, callused fingers curling gently between your own. “I got ya. ‘S okay. I got ya, baby.”

The sound of his voice—gravelly, sure—anchored you. His body, solid and steady behind you, pressed close as he guided your back against his chest. Your pulse raced. Your eyes burned.

“I can’t,” you choked, tears threatening to spill.

“Yeah, ya can. You’re alright. You’re safe now.”

Daryl’s hand tightened just slightly around yours, grounding you. His thumb brushed slow over your knuckles, over and over like he was rubbing the panic out of you.

“Try with me, alright? In…”

You felt his chest rise against your back.

“…and out.”

You tried. Fumbled. Your breath hitched and your shoulders trembled.

“Again,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face with the gentlest touch. “That’s it. In. Attagirl.”

The breath was shallow, but it made it in. You felt it. You felt him. All of him, wrapped around you like armor.

“Ya ain’t hurt,” he whispered, voice warm against your ear. “Nothin’ got you. Yer here. With me.”

His thumb stroked along the back of your hand again. Slow. Over and over.

“I was so—” You broke off, another sob catching in your throat.

“I know,” he said softly. “You scared me too.”

That stopped you cold.

You turned your face slightly, just enough to see him in your peripheral.

His mouth was set in a hard line, but his eyes? They were shining. Glassy, even in the shade of the wall. He was trying to stay strong for you. Always did. But this? This nearly broke him too.

“I thought I was gonna lose you.” His voice cracked. “Saw ya runnin’, then I didn’t. Didn’t know if you were—”

Your breathing slowed a little more. The rush of it turned shaky, but steady enough.

“I’m here,” you whispered.

His eyes dropped to your joined hands. He nodded.

“You’re okay,” he said again, this time like he needed to believe it just as much as you did.

After a few more moments, he gently guided you to sit on the curb, never letting go of your hand. His body stayed close, leg brushing yours, eyes flicking to your face every couple seconds.

“Didn’t mean to freak out,” you mumbled.

“Don’t you ever apologize for that,” he said, fiercer now. “You been strong as hell for everyone else. You’re allowed to break down, alright? I’ll be here to pick ya up.”

You finally looked at him, really looked.

The dirt on his cheek. The way his bangs stuck to his temple. The cut on his arm from clearing walkers earlier that morning. But more than that—the ache in his expression. The tenderness he never showed anyone but you.

You squeezed his hand.

“Thanks for finding me.”

“Always will.”

Silence fell again, but it was lighter this time. Softer.

After a while, Daryl helped you to your feet, steadying you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you through the gate.

And for the rest of the day, he didn’t leave your side. Not once. He made you tea. Cleaned the scrape on your knee. Kept his pinky linked with yours while you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of it all settle down again.

But every time you started to spiral, Daryl was there.

“Look at me, baby. Breathe.”

And you did.

Because you could.

Because he was there—and he wasn’t going anywhere.