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ghostboneswrites2 · 9 months ago

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A Mess || Reader Walsh X Daryl || Part 1

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here, beginning with this series since it was the most popular!

Summary: You grow tired of sneaking suspicions of Lori and your husband sneaking off together. When you finally catch them in the act, a grumpy redneck happens to be the one to help you through it in his own, unconventional way.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, nongraphic depictions of sex, TWD typical violence

You were so sick of him. The way he stood with his hands on his hip, squinting in the Georgia sun as he watched over the camp -- or, more specifically -- watched over Lori.

You respected it at first, when Rick didn't wake up and he told you, "We gotta go get Lori and Carol, (Y/N). We just got to. I gotta do right by him."

You didn't say anything when you were all stopped on the highway, watching the planes drop bombs on the city that was supposed to welcome you into safe refugee centers, and his first instinct was to hold Lori instead of you. You thought she had to be terrified, to lose her man and have to keep their son safe in such trying, unpredictable times. She probably needed that hug more than you, his own wife.

You were young when you married Shane. A drunken night led to one thing, one thing led to a baby, a baby led to another thing; a ring. But, you had a miscarriage after the wedding, and as we all know that doesn't nullify a marriage. Regardless, it wasn't a bad marriage. The relationship was mostly solid. You had suspicions, like when he'd come home from a night out with the other guys on the force with what you could have sworn were faded lipstick stains that he couldn't wipe off well enough, or smelling faintly of perfume and cigarettes. Still, he took good care of you, and you had a fair bit of freedom. He financed your art supplies, bought you records, helped you get back into school.

Your parents never had a good marriage so in comparison, you were doing well for yourself. Better than your mom, who lived on wine and Xanax, or your dad, who worked his fingers to the bone in that office, hunched over a computer, addicted to porn and cigars.

You often wondered if they had survived the initial outbreak, or if they were stumbling around King County somewhere with no heartbeat.

You shook the thought away, eyeing Shane from atop the RV where you were supposed to be watching for walkers. His skin was shiny with sweat. You wondered how long it'd be before he disappeared into the wood again. Funny how Lori always seemed to disappear at the same time, no doubt leaving Dale or Carol to keep an eye on Carl. Funny how since you'd all set up camp there by the quarry, Lori hadn't been able to make eye contact with you. Funny how he had been short with you, yet somehow managed to remain controlling as ever. You weren't allowed out of his sight unless he was already out of yours. You couldn't talk to men like Ed or Merle and his brother. You couldn't touch the guns, not until he showed you how to use one properly. You couldn't go wash up in the quarry unless he was there to escort you at night, which he conveniently never was. You couldn't--

"You alright up here?" Dale asked.

"Oh. Yeah." You shook your head clean of the whirlwind of suspicion.

"Don't seem too focused." He observed.

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry." You said, holding the binoculars to your eyes and turning your attention to the trees.

"Why don't you go on and take a break. I'll keep an eye out for now." He offered.

"Actually, you know what? That would be really great. Thanks Dale." You smiled and passed his binoculars to him. You wanted to protest. Watch duty was your favorite, and just about the only thing you could do to make yourself useful aside from washing other people's dirty underwear.

You climbed down from the roof, expecting to walk over to your husband, but he wasn't where he stood just moments prior.

You turned to Amy, who was sitting on the steps of the RV, fanning herself. It was a particularly hot day.

"Hey. Did you see where Shane went? I just saw him over there." You asked, her pointing to where he once stood.

"I think he went to check the perimeter." She said, holding her hand over her eyes to look up at you without being blinded. It was probably just about noon now with the sun high in the sky.

"Right." You nodded. You scanned the campers around you. "What about Lori?"

She shook her head.

"No, haven't seen her in a while. Carl's over there with Carol. She might know."

You sighed, thanking Amy as you made your way to Carol.

"Hey. Seen Lori?"

"Yeah. She asked me to watch Carl for a bit. Not sure where she went, though."

You felt a heat in your chest. Exactly as you suspected.

You jogged back to Amy. "Hey, which way did Shane go?"

She pointed over to the tree line on your left.

"Thanks, again." You smiled in a thin line as you marched to the woods. You were determined to put an end to this shit, one way or another.

You knew they couldn't have gone far. You had just seen him not five minutes ago. You were sure you could catch up. If the Dixons were around, you'd be half tempted to approach one and ask them to track for you. Probably the younger one. That Merle would probably ask you what you were willing to give in return, and you had a feeling he wouldn't be looking for payment in the material sense. You heard quiet rustling and heavy breaths. You ducked down and made slow, quiet steps, glancing down at the ground periodically to avoid any snapping twigs or overly crunchy leaves. You came to some thicker bushes and brush, crooning you neck to peer over the leaves and thorns.

Your stomach dropped. There it was. His sweat stained white tee, panting over her navy blue tank top that fit rather loosely with all the weight loss. Her jeans and underwear in a little pile off to the side, his gun set right on top. You clenched your jaw. You wanted to storm over and yell obscenities, to kick them both into the dirt. You were stuck, though. You couldn't move. You were so angry that you were cemented in place. Most of all, you were hurt. You were younger than Shane, and younger than Rick and Lori, but somehow, some way you thought Lori was a friend to you. You watched Carl when she and Rick took date nights from time to time, you two grabbed coffee together, went back to school shopping for Carl just to get you out of the house.

It would have been one thing had she not known you, had she been a complete stranger, but she was supposed to be a friend, and Shane, he was your husband. Tears stung at your eyes as your pulse became noticeable under your skin.

That's when you saw something else, a human shape walking up behind them. Could it be? A walker coming to exact your revenge for you? No, you could never be so lucky. It was the Dixon, the young one. His boots were heavy against the forest floor, drawing the attention of Shane and Lori. They both scrambled, Shane standing and buttoning his pants back up as Lori sat and pulled her jeans over her lap to cover herself.

"Hey, man -- I -- We can explain --" Shane stuttered, Lori looking mortified.

"Ain't me ya gotta explain to." Daryl shrugged, glancing over Shane's shoulder at you as you slowly stood to your feet from behind the bushes.

"Look, man. You say anything --" Shane hissed, no doubt gearing up for some halfhearted threat, but Daryl cut him off again.

"Won't have to." He told Shane, throwing another look at you, this time prolonging eye contact.

Shane and Lori followed his gaze and landed on you.

"(Y/N)" Lori breathed.

You tore your eyes from the huntsman, shooting visual daggers at your unfaithful husband and his backstabbing mistress.

Shane took a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face. You said nothing. There was nothing to say. You just looked at Daryl one more time before you turned around.

"(Y/N), come on!" Shane called after you. "Let's talk about this."

You didn't want to. You just stomped your way back to camp, ignoring the curious eyes as you pulled all your things from your shared tent with Shane. You really only had your backpack and a blanket. The two of you shared the sleeping bag and a single pillow, but you didn't want that. It would smell of Shane, and at that moment the thought of him made you nauseous. You took your bag and your blanket, and made your way down to the quarry. Surely that would be the most peaceful place to sleep, by the water, under the stars, away from everyone else.

"(Y/N.)" Shane said from behind you after he likely followed you back. "What the hell are you doin'?" He asked, referring to your backpack and blanket in arms.

"Fuck you." You grumbled.

"C'mon, what are you doin'?" He asked again. You spun on your heel, seething.

"No, Shane. What the hell are you doing?!" You shouted, drawing eyes from all around. You didn't care. In fact, you saw it as an opportunity. "Sneaking off?! Getting your dick wet?!"

"Don't do this here." He said quietly, glancing over his shoulder to where Carol sat with Carl and Sophia. They were all staring in shock, the whole camp. He reached his hands out to grab your shoulders but you stepped back, chest heaving with rage.

"Oh, why? So your girlfriend's kid doesn't know she's getting down and dirty with you in the leaves out there?" You spat back, only loud enough for him to hear. "You haven't touched me in weeks. Not since the night we left home, but you can't keep it in your pants around your dead best friend's wife?"

You shoved his chest with both hands, dropping the blanket to the ground in the process. His eyes grew dark, that pleading expression turning cold.

"I don't give a fuck how sorry you are or aren't. I don't give a good god damn how guilty she feels. I hate you, and I hate her." You added, just to drive the knife in deeper. If they could stab you in the back, you'd stab them in the chest.

"Don't be stupid." He growled.

"Stupid is having unprotected sex in the middle of the woods when your wife is sitting on top of an RV with binoculars. Stupid is fucking your best friend's wife. Stupid is--"

He grabbed your arm with force, dragging you far away from the others. He lened in close to your face, eyes wide with fury.

"You need to stop." He warned.

"I am stopping. I'm stopping all of it. Congratulations, Shane. You don't have to hide your affair anymore. Because you no longer have a wife to cheat on. Oh, and by the way, you suck at hiding it. You both do. The whole fucking camp can see you two disappearing at the same time, every single day. We all see how you look at her, how you play house with her and Carl like your wife isn't sitting ten feet away. Is that what it is? You like making me look like a fool?"

"I'm only gonna tell you once." He hissed, scowling down at you like you were the one who betrayed him. "Keep your mouth shut."

"No problem." You sneered. "I'll keep my mouth shut, and you'll keep your distance."

----

It was dark out. Despite the blazing heat in the daytime, the nights could get pretty chilly, especially down by the water. You didn't mind. You set against the cliff, back rested against your bag, blanket wrapped over you nice and snug. You enjoyed all the stars above. They were hard to see back home, but now, without all the light pollution, they were beautiful.

"Shouldn't be out here alone." A husky voice rasped. You looked down past your feet to see the shadow of an archer, the very one who happened to catch Shane and Lori when you did.

"Nah. If any of those freaks stumble through here, they'll be drawn to the fire and the lanterns. I'm safer than ever over here in the dark."

"Mm." He hummed. "Y'alright? After--"

"After I caught my husband fucking another woman? Yeah. All things considered, I'm better than ever." You scoffed.

"Bein' mad don't mean ya gotta be stupid. Can't stay out here." He insisted.

"Well, my tent is Shane's tent, and the RV is full." You sighed.

"Jus' take mine." He offered.

"Yours." You repeated. "And you're gonna sleep where?"

"Outside. Prefer it that way anyway." He shrugged.

"Yeah, no. I'm not kicking you out of your own tent."

"Ain't kickin' me out if I offer."

"Well, thanks, but I'll be declining that offer."

"Suit yourself." He said as he walked back to camp. Daryl wasn't the type to go out of his way for someone else. In fact, it was rather annoying that you couldn't accept his kindness when he felt obliged to offer it. He saw how you looked when you caught them, the sickening blend of grief and rage. You hadn't done anything to deserve that, at least to his knowledge, yet you were the one with nowhere to sleep. It didn't sit right with him.

He remembered something, though. A bottle of whiskey he had stashed away in his tent. If he couldn't convince you to sleep somewhere warmer and safer than on the bed of red clay by the water, maybe you'd accept something to take your mind off it all.

He ducked into his tent and grabbed his bottle, paying no mind to his fellow survivors all huddled around the fire making small talk. Lori and Shane sat near each other, Carl in between them talking to Shane about his favorite heroes, Shane telling him stories about his dad.

Shane's eye caught Daryl as he made his way down the quarry with a bottle of liquor, no doubt on his way to you. He felt a heat in his chest, the same kind you felt when you found him rolling in the dirt with Lori. She noticed his sudden tension and followed his gaze. She looked back to Shane with worry, attempting to calm him with her eyes.

Daryl found you laying on your side, backpack under your cheek like a pillow.

"Ya sleep?" He asked.

"No." You said, monotone and irritable.

"Ya like whiskey?"

You sat up. Of course you liked whiskey, this is the south.

"You have some?" You inquired. He held the bottle out to you and you took it, twisting off the cap and taking a large swig. "Thanks."

"Ain't a gift." He clarified. "But ya look like you could use a drink."

He sat down a foot away from you, facing the water. You passed the bottle back to him.

"Well, thanks for sharing."

"Mhm."

"What would you do?" You asked him.

"Huh?"

"I mean if you had a wife out here and you caught her fucking someone else."

"Kick her outta my tent." He said.

"And if it was her tent?"

"Too bad. Shouldn't've been sleepin' around." He shrugged, swigging the bottle and passing it to you.

"Uhuh." You nodded, sipping. "What else?"

"You askin' me for advice or somethin'?"

"Something like that." You guessed.

"Well I'd probably kick his ass for fuckin' my wife knowin' I was right there."

"Mm. I'd love to but I can't exactly whoop someone who still has to look out for a kid."

"Guess ya just gotta ignore 'em." He suggested, taking the bottle as you handed it over.

"How? I live with them."

"Want me to kill 'em?" He joked. You chuckled.

"Kinda." You admitted.

"Mm. Too easy. I'd tie 'em up outside the city and leave 'em to the walkers."

"Oh, you've put thought into this?" You asked. He tipped the bottle bac and took a gulp.

"Nah. If I did I'd have somethin' more creative."

"The hell's this?" Shane asked, suddenly looming over the two of you.

Daryl stood up. "Just havin' a drink." He said, eyeing Shane.

"With my wife?" Shane stepped forward, so Daryl did too.

"Looks single to me." Daryl shrugged. He didn't come over with the intentions of making a move on you. Really he hadn't noticed you around at all. He, however, also wasn't one to back down from a fight, and he already had a distaste for the ex-fed, self proclaimed leader.

"What?" Shane asked through gritted teeth, swaying as he grew more antsy to take a swing.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that Shane?" You sighed, standing up. You weren't phased by his sudden intrusion, you knew him too well to be surprised.

"Yeah, why don't ya go back to sleepin' with the widow?" Daryl added. That was enough for Shane. He threw the first punch, but Daryl recovered quickly, getting a good knock to the ribs in before you inserted yourself between them, one hand to each man's chest.

"Can we chill with the dick-measuring contest? He brought me a drink because he felt bad for me. Nothing else, because unlike you," you said to Shane, "some men are capable of keeping their willies tucked away."

"Yeah, right, like he wasn't just waitin' for you to get drunk and start feelin' vengeful." Shane spat.

"I don't fuck drunk girls, asshole." Daryl spoke up. "That's for cops and losers."

"Man, you think you can take me? You want a piece of this?" Shane started to raise his voice now.

"Yeah, c'mon then, prick." Daryl said, throwing his arms up. The two men stepped in circles around you as you tried to keep a barrier between them.

"Yeah, come on then, pussy!" Shane shouted.

"Pussy? Nah, man. You're the coward, slidin' your dick in some vulnerable window when ya had a tight piece o' ass right here waitin' for ya every night!" Daryl yelled back.

"What is goin' on here?" Lori came in, eyes blazing between the three of you.

"Wha'd'ya waitin' for, man? There's your side piece, go on and get her!" Daryl said.

Shane lunged forward and you gripped around his torso tight, banking on the hope that he wouldn't hurt you to get past you, at least nit in front of her.

"Don't fuckin' talk about here like that!" Shane seethed.

"Yeah well ya sure didn't care 'bout me callin' your wife a tight piece of ass! I see where your priorities lie!"

You couldn't afford to get distracted with the details as you put all your focus and strength into holding on to Shane to prevent anyone from getting hurt. However, the Dixon made some valid points.

"Stop it, you two!" Lori begged.

"Hate to say it," you strained against Shane's strength, digging your feet into the dirt as his strong frame fought against you. "But I'm with Lori."

"Y'all need to calm down before--"

"Is everything okay?" Dale's voice sounded from behind Lori, cutting her off. Amy, Andrea, and Morales stood with him. Lori sighed and put her hand over her forehead.

Shane finally relented and you gratefully let go of him, turning to face the crowd of onlookers.

"What happened here?" Dale inquired.

"He was makin' a move on my wife." Shane panted, still coming down from the surge of adrenaline and rage.

You scoffed, gawking at his audacity. You glared at Lori for a moment, running your tongue over your teeth before you shook your head and chuckled.

"No, he brought me a drink because he felt bad for me, sleeping out here alone." You corrected.

"Why are you sleeping all the way out here?" Andrea asked, shaking her head with confusion.

"Yeah, it's really not safe. You should be up there with us." Amy added.

"Yeah, Shane, Lori." You cocked your head to the side, crossing your arms as you looked between the two of them. "Why am I sleeping all the way out here? Hm?"

Lori looked at you with wide, anxious eyes as Shane just shot daggers at you and Daryl. Lori looked back to everyone else, who seemed to be confused, except for Dale who had a knack for picking up on things.

"Maybe we should head back to camp. It's getting late." Dale suggested.

"I'm good." You rolled your eyes. "Thanks for ruining yet another peaceful moment." You said to Shane.

"I'm confused." Andrea spoke up.

"Oh, allow me to clarify." You smiled, sickeningly sweet. Lori shook her head at you, but you ignored her. "Shane, my husband, and Lori, have been keeping a secret from us. Care to share with the class?"

"(Y/N), man, come on. Why you gotta start problems?" Shane let out an exasperated sigh.

"No? Okay, allow me to speak on your behalf, then. My husband has been fucking Lori, who, if you guys weren't aware, is married to Shane's best friend, who he claims is dead." You said.

God, did that feel good.

Everyone looked stunned, save for Lori who just looked humiliated and mortified, and Shane, who was more pissed than anything else.

"Some leader, huh? A real honest guy." You added, just to add insult to injury. Salt in the open wound, if you will.

"Oh...kay... Why don't we just.." Dale was at a loss for words.

"Maybe (Y/N) can stay in the RV with us." Amy suggested.

"Yeah, I think that'd be just fine." Dale agreed.

"No need." You looked to Shane, smirking. "Daryl here has offered his tent."

Daryl shot you a look. He had no intentions of being your pawn in some twisted revenge scheme.

"You did?" Andrea asked.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, told her she could have it 'til she figures somethin' else out."

"And you're gonna sleep... Where?" She wondered.

"Outside." He shrugged.

Shane scoffed and shook his head, hands rested on his hips in that police stance you had grown to hate. Your nostrils flared at him in disgust.

----

"Why'd ya do that?" Daryl asked. You were all back at camp now. He was grabbing some essentials from his tent to make room for you. "Make it like it was somethin' it ain't?"

"What do you mean? I told the truth. You offered your tent."

"Nah, you wanted to get under his skin." He shook his head at you as you stood with your bag over your shoulder and your dusty blanket balled up in your arms.

"I mean, yeah, but--"

"But nothin'. I ain't gon' be part of your revenge and I damn sure ain't gonna be no rebound dick to ride 'til ya feel better." He cut you off before he stormed away.

Taglist || Masterlist

#daryl x reader #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl x female reader

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professonalarttheclownfan · 22 days ago

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I love you

Daryl x fem!reader - tw, swearing!

you’d been split from the group, a supply run gone wrong. Daryl, yourself & a few others had been tasked to pick up food, after scouting out a local grocery store devising a plan you started your mission, what you hadn’t bet on was the swarm of walkers that seemed to have decided to also give the store a visit too.

You were allocated with checking the aisles located near the back of the store, Daryl insisted you stay close to him but Rick wanted it to be as quick as possible. Stick your aisle, pick up whatever’s useful and get out.

The swarm had come out of no where, thinking it was clear before hand it was like they appeared out of thin air, being at the back of the store you’d ended up being cornered in, the office out back being your refuge whislt the others managed to get out. The place was full, there’d be no way you’d survive if you tried fighting your way out of there. Your weapons were lack lustre against a hoard that size, but, you were also going to die if you didn’t leave the office soon. The group hadn’t given up on you, Daryl mostly. They didn’t know if you were alive but it was Daryl that fought your corner convincing Rick to some how go back and get you. He knew you were still alive, it’s like he could feel it in his bones. You were his firecracker, you’d gotten through a lot worse then a heard before.

The wooden door rattled with each rotten body that slammed against it, it was only a matter of time untill the lock gave way. Your head rattled with any sort of idea but it came up blank, the office had no windows, it was more like a broom cupboard with chairs and a old coffee maker, it’d be pitch black in there if it weren’t for the torch in your bag.

Slowly realising your fate was most likely doomed, your mind wonders to Daryl, if you were going to die you’d want the man you loved to be the last thing you thought about. You craved his presence more then ever, to be able to kiss him, find that familiar comfort in him being beside you. You’d not lose hope the way you had right now if he was.

You sat back propped against the wall, the door continued to bang, but there you were with a small smile on your face. You allowed yourself to get lost in the memories of him, the love you’d found in a world that was dying.

~ He was blunt and timid with you at the start, more distant with you then others. It was a clichè, you thought he hated you, when in fact he was infatuated with you. It was another supply run when you’d realised that he kept his distance in attempt to not fall in love with you. You and him, asked to pick up supplies for baby Judith. You’d gone further afield meaning it’d be an over night excursion. You’d given up on trying to befriend the extremely attractive man, maybe it was for the better since he made you weak at the knees.

You’d both bunkered down for the night, finding a temporary safe house. Supplies collected, you’d both managed to have a fairly smooth ride so far. Daryl wasn’t much of a small talk kind of guy, so you chatted away regardless coming to not really care what he thought about you talking to yourself, you spoke about anything from the mundane stuff about your life before to the home you’d all made at the prison. You’d expected Daryl to grunt or tell you to shut up, but he never did, not once. You hadn’t noticed the small smiles and glances, he listened to every word that came out of your mouth. Your voice soothed him like honey, the warm glow of safety he felt around you was something he’d not felt before and he was slowly becoming addicted to having you near him. But that’s why he was so fearful of loving you, the world was cruel and he didn’t want to have to lose you. But he also didn’t want to not have you.

You’d gotten comfy on the sofa, Daryl sat on the armchair opposite. He did it so he could look at you, with out it looking like he was purposely staring. You still talked away, quieter now, your voice sleepy.

“you should rest” his voice came out gruff and low. You looked at him, smiling softly and nodded agreeing.

“You too, I like doing runs with you Mr Dixon.” Resting your head against the pillow you’d found earlier.

“Why’s that?” He stretched his legs out, crossing his ankle over the other in the process.

“because, your nice to look at. And you’ve not told me to shut up” your sleepy eyes rested upon his face, as his eyes matched up to yours. Your whole body tingled under his gaze.

“You could talk a glass eye to sleep. But your voice, it’s nice” this was the most he’d spoke to you in the past day. You smiled at him,

“your lucky I like you, other wise I’d take offence to that” you shifted, “why do you avoid me? don’t think I don’t notice. I feel like a silly school girl getting excited when I get tasked to do anything with you” Daryl’s expression softened, his gaze never letting up. This man was intense and it drew you in.

“I don’t want to lose someone else, it’d already kill me enough if I lost you now. I can’t risk getting close to you”

You were surprised at his words, your heart hammered against your chest. Pushing yourself to sit up,

“Why not take the chance, im a fighter you know” The tension between you two had always been evident, everyone else could tell that Daryl already cared far more deeply about you then anyone else, whislt you were oblivious to Daryl asking the others if you could come with him on runs, asking where you were anytime you weren’t around, they noticed the long glances at you he took. They put two and two together. The rugged man was head over heels.

Daryl stood up slowly, you copied his movements pushing yourself to your feet. You both stood, like the world slowed down just staring at each other. Before you knew it, the world sped up again you both stepped toward each other and finally your lips met in the middle. Hungry and yearning, like a years worth of kisses were being packed into the very first.~

Tears formed and rolled, this was it, you hoped and prayed Daryl knew how much you loved him. You knew he did, and you knew how much he loved you.

Faint shouts of your name could be heard over the groaning of the dead outside the the door,

“Y/n where are you?” Daryl voice shone out over everything. Commotion rattled outside the door, grunts and thuds died down and thick dark blood seeped between the crack at the bottom of the door. You sat bewildered, feeling dissociated you’d been so sure that this was it. This was going to be the end.

“Daryl” you whimpered, your voice sounded borderline pathetic as it croaked out of your throat. The door you had been hidden behind had been booted open, Daryl hadn’t wasted a second to get to you. Light flooded the once pitch black room. And no later were you scooped up into the your man’s arms.

You clung onto him, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck. Breathing in his all familiar scent.

“I love you” he whispered loud enough just for you too hear. “My god I fucking love you and I ain’t ever losing you specially not to no walkers”

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #the walking dead #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead imagine

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drabbles-mc · 1 year ago

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Get Me Outta Here

Rick Flag x Harley Quinn

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo challenge! Bingo square: cage

Warnings: 18+, language, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: It's the way that these two are my new favorite barbies to paly with in my dreamhouse. 😌

Suicide Squad Taglist: @garbinge (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

“Hey!” Harley thrashed and fought against the guards who were dragging her back to her cell. “That wasn’t the deal! Let me go!”

The one guard chuckled, close enough to her ear that she could feel his breath against her skin as he let out a cruel laugh. “You don’t get a deal, sweetheart.”

She threw her head, slamming the side of her skull into his nose. “Get me the fuck outta here!”

There was a slew of curses and blood streaming out of the guard that she’d just head-butted. The guard on the other side of her was laughing at the both of them. Try as she might, Harley couldn’t quite move fast enough to get him with a headbutt as well. She hated the cuffs. They always had her bound by her wrists and her ankles. Something about too many guards getting sent to the infirmary. Belle Reve was sick of shelling out worker’s comp, apparently, and Harley was paying the price.

“That’s it,” the guard, blood still leaking from his nose, reached and pulled something out of one of the compartments on his utility belt. Harley’s eyes went wide at the sight of the needle but she didn’t get a protest out before the guard jammed it into the side of her neck and pushed the plunger. He scoffed as she almost instantaneously went limp in his arms. “Enough of that shit.”

“Told you,” the man holding her upright from the other side spoke up, “should’ve done that the second that she got back.”

“Shut up. C’mon. That stuff never knocks her out for long.”

They dragged her the rest of the way, not an ounce of grace to be found. They muttered and complained the entire way. They were lucky that Harley wasn’t awake to hear them. She would’ve given them an earful knowing that they had the audacity to moan and groan when they were going to leave and go back out into the free world the second they deposited her into her cell. The fact that they got to go home and complain to friends, family, whoever, while she was stuck in a cell. Not even a cell. A cage inside her cell.

When Harley came-to, it was to an empty room. The shackles were gone from her wrists and ankles, but they’d left bruises behind regardless. She frowned as she trailed her fingers over them. Every time they were almost gone, they’d cuff her up again and she’d be right back to where she started.

She rolled her neck before letting her head drop back. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment before yelling out, “This is fuckin’ bullshit!”

No one answered. She didn’t expect anyone too either. Whoever was stuck sitting watching the hundreds of security feeds from all around Belle Reve was going to get an earful when it came through, though. Maybe it would jolt them out of a nap, or from playing games on their phones. Harley would cause whatever inconveniences she could given what she had.

Standing up, she started to pace the length of her cell. It wasn’t very far, but it was just enough while the feeling was coming back to her legs and the rest of her limbs. She never asked what it was they were always doping her up with, but it always took a bit to wear off even after she woke up. It felt like there were weights hidden in her bones as she forced herself to move around.

She shook her head as she walked, all of her frustration starting to boil over again. She was supposed to be in the clear. That was the deal. The mission she’d just gone on with Rick and the rest of Task Force X was supposed to knock the last ten years off of her sentence. She was supposed to end the day a free woman. She huffed, thinking that maybe she should’ve known better. They weren’t just going to let her walk out like that if she could help it. It was fucked up, but it wasn’t out of character. Part of her blamed Waller. The other part of her blamed just about every other staff member at Belle Reve.

Eventually she was too tired to keep yelling at no one, too tired to keep pacing. Letting out one last groan, she flopped down onto her mattress. At least she still had that going for her. Throwing one arm so that it laid across her forehead, she stared up at the ceiling. Forever was a long time to be trapped in a cage.

She didn’t know how long she’d been laying there like that. Of all the things that she’d negotiated into her cell during the time that she’d been part of Task Force X, she never thought to ask for a clock. Why would she? It wasn’t like her time was really her own inside the walls of the prison anyway.

Then she heard the digital chiming from the far side of her cell. It sounded louder than usual when there was no other noise or chaos happening. That beeping was following by the sound of the door to her designated section of the prison being opened. As much as she wanted to turn and tear into whoever was walking in, she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“What’re you still doin’ here?” Rick’s voice nearly echoed throughout the room even though he wasn’t yelling.

Harley immediately shot up, sitting upright and turning to face him. “Ask those dickhead guards who threw me back in here!”

Rick’s eyebrows lifted just slightly. “I’ll do that.”

Her anger faded for a moment, shifting to confusion as she got up and walked closer to the bars. “Wait a second, what’re you doin’ here?”

“Looking for you.”

She scoffed. “Very funny, Flag.”

He shook his head, walking up to the other side of the bars. He was close enough that she could reach through and touch him. He could’ve done the same to her.

“I’m not kidding.” He let Harley study his face, look for cues that he was lying that she was never going to find. “Thought you were getting out.”

“Was s’posed to,” she muttered bitterly.

“I know. When you didn’t, I…” he trailed off, not knowing how he wanted to end the sentence.

The ends of her mouth lifted into a smile. “Were you worried about me?” she asked, reaching through the bars and dragging the tips of her fingers over the stiff fabric of his fatigues.

He kept his facial expression as neutral as he could. “You don’t need anybody worrying about you, Harley.” He paused. “But, yea.”

She laughed, lightly slapping his chest before bringing her hand back to her side of the bars. “Ha! I knew it.” She made a big show of rolling her eyes. “Big softie.”

Rick shook his head, determined not to feed in to her shenanigans, or into the thoughts that were beginning to race across his mind again. “They tell you why they were keepin’ you here?”

She scoffed. “You think they ever give any’a us a why?”

He puffed out a sharp exhale through his lips. “Right.”

She shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll figure out how to get outta here soon.”

Rick chuckled. “Yea? Just gonna mow down a few more guards?”

Tilting her head, she asked, “You got any better ideas?”

He held up the thin badge, the one he scanned to get in and out of every section of Belle Reve. “Just might.”

Harley’s eyes popped wide open as she watched him scan it against the lock on her cage. When they were rewarded with the click of it opening, a huge smile broke out across her face. Rick pulled the door, both of them unable to hide their surprise at how it opened with no resistance whatsoever. It was almost too easy.

Both of them stared at each other, no bars between them anymore. They both hesitated, like they still weren’t sure if it was going to play out so smoothly for them. Harley looked around, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When nothing happened, she took a tentative step forward, stepping out of the iron confines that she’d spent far too many months in.

“Holy shit,” she said with a laugh, standing close enough to Rick now that they were nearly chest to chest.

“Would you look at that,” he responded with a small nod.

She laughed, pure glee on her face for all of a moment before her face switched right back to annoyance. Reaching out, she slapped him hard on the chest. He couldn’t pretend that it didn’t catch him off-guard.

“You couldn’t’a done that before?”

He shrugged helplessly. “Didn’t know if it was gonna work.”

“God,” she shook her head with a laugh. “Come on, then.” She gestured for him to lead the way. “Get me the fuck outta here.”

He frowned for a moment. “I don’t know if it’s gonna be that easy.”

“Why not?”

He cleared his throat, one of the most ineffective stalling tactics he had at his disposal but he still defaulted to it every time. “Didn’t really ask to come and get you out of here.”

Her eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. “You bustin’ me outta prison, Flag?”

He nodded, shrugging like he couldn’t quite believe it either. “Guess so.”

Her jaw dropped open, mouth forming that signature, wide grin, the one that meant nothing but trouble. “Look at that! Colonel Flag, Belle Reve’s resident bad boy.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say—” he was cut short by Harley reaching and unholstering one of the guns that was strapped to him. “Harley, what—”

“If we’re bustin’ out, we need to be quick about it!”

This was on him, really, for strutting in here with no real plan in mind. He just couldn’t believe that they didn’t let her go. Or rather, he could believe it, but he just couldn’t accept it. He’d waited for her and when he didn’t see any signs of her having been released, he just stormed right back into the prison without giving it a second thought. All he knew was that he was gonna get her out somehow. He was realizing now, as he grabbed his other gun and made long strides to catch up to her, that maybe he should’ve put just a little thought into the how.

The two of them strode through the doorway, exiting her blocked off section of the prison. They were walking side-by-side, something that Rick had grown accustomed to and comfortable with in a way that he never saw coming when he was first assigned to Task Force X. If someone had told him all that time ago that he would be doing all of this to get one of the team members out of prison rather than trying to put them back into it, he wouldn’t have believed it. He would’ve been willing to fight over it. But now here he was.

Harley’s arm brushed against his as she brought it up, aiming the gun ahead of her even though no one was in front of them. At least not yet. Rick followed her lead, though. At least one of them had it together enough to be prepared. It made sense—he could only imagine the number of times Harley thought about how to break out.

“You time this on purpose?” Harley asked, not looking over at him as she did.

He shook his head, equally surprised that they weren’t crossing paths with anyone. “No. Wish…wish I could say that I did.”

“You really didn’t plan this out?” She spared him a quick glance, just long enough to see him shaking his head no. She laughed quietly. “That’s not like you at all, Colonel.”

“We can talk about my identity crisis once we get you outta here, alright?”

Harley followed him as he swiped into a hallway that she hadn’t been down before. “Good.” She turned so that she was giving him cover in case anyone popped up behind them. “I got a degree for that, y’know.”

“So I’ve heard,” he drawled as they ducked down a darker, seedier hallway.

“You sure you know where you’re goin’?” she asked.

“I got it, yea.”

He hardly finished saying that when they came across a door that Rick couldn’t swipe his badge to unlock. The hallway was silent as both he and Harley stood there staring at the door. She looked over at him, waiting for him to tell her what the solution to their problem.

“Shit,” he finally said.

Harley huffed. “Thought you always had it all figured out, Flag.”

“Didn’t really have time to plan—”

“Cover your ears,” Harley said, cringing in anticipation as she brought her gun up and leveled it with the lock.

“Harley, don’t—”

He didn’t get to finish the demand. Her finger curled around the trigger and sent the bullet burrowing right through the lock on the door. It was loud, echoing through the halls. It definitely gave their location away, but leaning forward Harley pushed against the door with the mouth of the gun in her hand and it opened, the bottom of it scraping loudly against the floor.

“All better!” she chirped as she walked through to the other side of the hall.

“Goddammit,” Rick cursed under his breath. He was shaking his head, not thrilled with the decision but he couldn’t deny that it was better than nothing.

“You at least brought a getaway car, right?” Harley asked as she started to break into a run towards the door that was at the end of the hall.

She could see the barest hint of light coming in through the filthy window in the center of it. She knew that this was the closest that she’d been to freedom in a long time. However, she could also hear the distant sounds of the Belle Reve alarm systems starting to go off. Someone must’ve finally checked the security cameras and seen that she was gone. Or they heard the gunshot she’d fired off at the door. Dealer’s choice—either way it didn’t really matter much.

“Yea,” Rick answered her question as he kept pace with her, “but you’re not drivin’.”

Harley huffed in annoyance. “Fine.”

When they were close enough for her to aim, Harley lifted her gun to blow off the lock of the next door. Rick was about to try and tell her not to but he also knew that it wasn’t going to be any use. He just clenched his jaw and braced for the incoming sound.

“Woohoo!” Harley cheered as she reached the door. Leaning back, she brought her foot up and kicked the door open. All of her enthusiasm of getting out going into the action.

Rick was shaking his head at her, but he couldn’t help but to laugh, too. He holstered his gun as the two of them booked it out into the parking lot. Digging into his pants pocket, he pulled out a set of keys. He took a sharp turn, whistling to get Harley’s attention as she kept charging onward in the wrong direction.

“Hey, Harley!” He waited for her to turn around and look at him. He pointed in the direction he was heading. “This way!”

She turned on a dime, quickly running and catching up to him. He hit the unlock button on his keys and when Harley saw the lights blink on the large black pickup truck. “Oh shit,” she exclaimed as she laughed.

She made it to the driver’s door before him, ripping it open and diving inside. She launched herself across the cab of the truck, managing to get herself enough on the passenger side for Rick to jump in after her. He yanked the driver’s door shut with one hand as he shoved the keys into the ignition with the other. Harley was barely situated and upright when he threw the truck in reverse and started to peel out. There was only so much the prison guards would be able to do once they were off-premises. Waller didn't have a kill switch for her anymore, and according to Harley’s records, her time in Belle Reve was up. Rick just had to get them past the gate. Neither of them would ever be able to go back to whatever their plans had been about twenty minutes prior. He knew Harley wasn’t going to be upset about it. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized he didn’t care much either now that she was here with him.

“You good?” he asked, his hand gripping the headrest of the passenger seat as he sped backwards through the parking lot.

Harley was on the brink of cackling with laughter. “This is way cooler than a getaway car.” She clapped once as she steadied herself back against her seat.

“Take that as a yes,” Rick said with a chuckle and a shake of his head as they got closer and closer to the nearest gate.

“You really gonna do it?”

His eyes flicked over to her for a split second before he refocused. “Little late to bail now, right?”

When they got closer to the gate, Rick pressed his foot down a little harder on the gas. The engine revved, and both he and Harley braced for the jolt of impact that would happen when the tailgate of his truck broke through the gate. There was a brief moment, hardly a nanosecond, when Rick wondered what would happen if it didn’t work. What if for some bizarre reason the gate held up.

He didn’t get to contemplate it long as the gate buckled beneath the force put out by his truck. The sound of his tires screeching on the blacktop drowned out everything else. His hands moved fast to put his truck in drive, eyes forward once more as he sped off down the road.

“I gotta say,” Harley threw her feet up onto the dashboard, like they were going for an evening cruise and not escaping a maximum security prison, “this is the most Rick Flag thing about you.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “What is?”

“This truck!” she exclaimed excitedly. She turned and looked over at him. “Oh, please tell me you kept the cowboy hat and you wear it when you drive around in this?”

He shook his head, chuckling as he tried to loosen his grip just slightly on the steering wheel. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

She laughed. “Oh you totally do!”

“Harley?” Rick said, looking over at her for a moment before returning his eyes back to the road.

She turned her head, and he could feel her staring at him even though he wasn’t looking at her anymore. “Yea?”

He took a deep breath in, like he was finally going to say everything that he’d been thinking, the feelings that had been bubbling up inside his chest for weeks, months now that he’d been trying not to think about. But then he turned and looked at her again, and suddenly he realized that he didn’t have to say it. She was there, looking at him with those big, bright eyes, and suddenly he finally saw it, felt it.

He let out the breath he’d taken in, shaking his head as he reached and rested his hand on her thigh. Harley hummed in approval, smiling as she set her hand on top of his and interlocked their fingers.

#the suicide squad #suicide squad #suicide squad fanfic #the suicide squad fanfic #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag #rick flag x harley quinn #harley quinn fanfiction #harley quinn #harley quinn x rick flag #quinnflag #navy and roos sleepover #navy and roo's sleepover #slumber party bingo #slumber party #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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0rb0t · 2 years ago

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"my addictions, my narcissism, my IRRATIONAL ATTACHMENTS..." Rick describing toxic traits of himself in Rest and Ricklaxation, season 3

This line, when it first aired, I think made everyone go WAIT, RICK SEES CARING ABOUT MORTY AS TOXIC? WHA so people took Healthy Rick to have sociopathic (what they actually mean: lacking in compassion, connection, empathy) qualities.

Then the season 5 finale happened, and we took this line to mean "irrational" as in, he never would have had a Morty because his family was killed, Beth was killed when she was still a little girl. So, him being attached to Morty, in a way, is irrational.

but I think that's giving way too much intentional thought to a subconscious problem. Toxic Rick is more like... Trauma Rick. Toxic behaviours generally come from trauma or mistreatment, either things that fucked you up in some way, or things that were explained away as "That's how it's always been"

Regardless, the mind comes up with survival strategies to cope, but they're not perfect. You're basically operating under constant fight or flight adrenaline rushes, EVERYTHING and EVERYONE is a threat, and you tend to rip away and isolate over perceived danger or lack of safety. Feeling safe is extremely important to you, but it's also something we seek in others even if it should ultimately come from within.

Healthy Rick isn't lacking in compassion, empathy, connection, etc. He cares a hell of a lot, and if he didn't, he wouldn't have been broken up about the Toxic Versions suffering.

What Healthy Rick didn't have was his codependency on Morty. That's the IRRATIONAL ATTACHMENT part. It's an attachment that is irrational because it is fundamentally destructive for either/both parties. If Rick were to lose Morty, he would self destruct, but his attachment TO Morty is also destructive.

And vice versa! But it's more understandable for Morty to be dependent on his grandpa, someone who is an authority, has more experience, knows about more, is supposed to be a guardian... but Rick isn't a grandpa to Morty, not a proper guardian. instead, Rick breaks all of Morty's boundaries, takes advantage of that naivety, and even seeks to crush it to affirm his own cynical worldview so he doesn't have to change and can act like he's right. And of course a 14 year old boy is going to go "well you know best"

except. As the seasons go on, Rick is able to see how his relationship with Morty is codependent and extremely EXTREMELY bad for both of them. Especially for Morty.

Morty's toxic traits, the things he hates about himself on a subconscious level, are born of trauma sure, but also are things expected of a teenage boy going through puberty. Being indecisive, being anxious, deferring to authority, not having confidence, thinking he's the most cringy and annoying. But these things fall under "toxic" because no one in Morty's family is there to tell him it's okay, not unless they can get something out of it. This is especially evident in the Morty's Mindblowers episode, where the idea of telling Morty that he's loved is seen as a joke or a means to an end. It's incredibly fucking bleak.

In season 5,in the last two episodes, we see Rick trying to finally take responsibility for this codependent stuff... but he does it the same way he handles everything else... but running away. by leaving. Only this time he's doing it from a place of "I'm toxic, I'm hurting this family and you, I need to go" but cutting a person who is codependent off cold-turkey can be extremely detrimental to that person. And we see the lengths Morty is willing to go to try to get Rick to come back, even going as far to age himself up (to guilt him but also to be like LOOK I'M NOT A LITTLE BOY NOW, WE CAN MAKE THIS WORK) and lie about his family's situation... He's doing things that he thinks would impress Rick, in a way. He wants to punish Rick for leaving but also wants him to be impressed. That's their dynamic in a nutshell.

Rick finally does come back, and Morty every says that he's basically codependent and fine with that, and that he'll do anything Rick says as long as he doesn't leave again, and Rick is like OOOKAAAYYY~ and turns him back into the 14 year old boy, back to basics!

Except it's not. Morty finally gets to see what drives Rick, and then he gets the double whammy of finding out what Rick inadvertently helped build, the system that abuses Ricks and Mortys. (It's important to note that while C137 was hunting down Prime, we only saw a Morty ONCE and that was Morticia and she was in the garage with Summer and a Rick. This means that before the Citadel as we now know it, Ricks didn't need Mortys. C137 started THAT, inadvertently, by creating the citadel. We don't know which Rick was the first to get attached to a Morty, but we do know c137 fell into the pattern, too.)

Season 5 ends with the promise that Rick now treats Morty as an equal... but even if it's a step in the right direction, it's also not healthy, because Morty is HIS GRANDSON. It's not that parents shouldn't treat kids as people, it's that the boundaries are eroded here and it's just a Weird Time Overall. Rick and Morty still have this codependency, except Morty has more agency now, and Rick is not as able to handle it because he doesn't want to push Morty away and he doesn't really want to be alone.

So what does he do? He does what he always does! He withdraws to focus on finding Prime, but this time he doesn't blame Morty for his withdrawal either. He doesn't say "YOU'RE SLOWING ME DOWN" and he doesn't make a grandiose gesture about being toxic. He made a robot of himself meant to make Morty happy and hear all the things he needs to hear... he didn't want to drop him cold turkey, but he's also just not sure how to fix the codependency thing. That would likely involve many, many, many sessions with Dr Wong talking to Rick and Morty (which I'd watch if it became a mini series).

Instead he makes the robot, and then disappears back into this hateful space as punishment but also because it's safe. He saw Morty's rebellion as rejection. Morty's thoughts, opinions, feelings actually mean a GREAT DEAL to Rick on a subconscious level, so Morty just going his own way has Rick feeling powerless and foolish. So why not make a version of himself that will be a better friend, a better caretaker? And then see Morty love that version of him more? Even though it wasn't "real"? Rick ruins his own life #78457

But he finally lets Morty in, admits it wasn't fair of him to leave him out or to have yelled at him for it. Brings him into this shit show that's going to be incredibly uncomfortable because it's gonna likely have Rick at his rawest, most viscerally ugly of states because trauma is ugly. And Morty is along for the ride because Rick trusts him enough to be openly vulnerable with him...

... but it's still a form of codependency. It's... healthier than it was, but it's still this irrational attachment that is more self destructive than it is mutually beneficial.

AND THAT'S THE WAAAAAY THE NEWS GOES

#parmeesian #par MEE sian #rick and morty theory #r&m thoughts #rickorty #just in case?#cannot wait to see what new ways harmon is gonna throw incest at us #i condemn my blorbos but i also cherish them #i want more Rick and Jerry episodes #but I also just really want Rick to have a friend that's his age #or around it #Analyze Piss fucking broke me man #HEY WHEN WILL WE SEE DOOFUS AGAIN CAUSE #I'D LOVE TO SEE DOOFUS SEEING RICK AGAIN AFTER S1 AND BEING LIKE 'WOW RICK YOU REALLY HAVE CHANGED'#and maybe c137... sees that as a compliment. something to be proud of. 🥺#long post

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the-firebird69 · 1 year ago

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Judge Engoron, Staff, Subjected to Threats Following Trump Attacks

https://www.rollingstone.com/politics/politics-news/judge-engoron-staff-death-threats-antisemitic-attacks-1234894395/

It's raining phone calls and posts and emails and articles have been traced to mega that's what the article says that's the part they should be concerned with and it is going around the justice department as to what to do they've never had a president it is this arrogant and ask this badly and he won't calm down and he won't stop accusing them when he's committing crimes all the time and he's like this consonant criminal and our son and daughter say what do they expect they hired a business person from Las Vegas and he was known to be a criminal and he should be treated as such. They did mention that and they said this is an embarrassment right here and they want him off the ballot and if you want criminal behavior we say go to Las Vegas and dig up what he was doing and you have a perfect excuse and you have to drag all sorts of stuff out Vegas is known to be a criminal area and everybody believes it and it'll probably give them more business those people think they can go get away with something

Who are tired of this stinky dunk Rick is disgusting show and we're going to put it into it one way or the other regardless. In Las Vegas his son dies forever his head explodes and he's gone and they don't seem to care they're very strange people Dave actually cares he's the one who will die. It doesn't look like it's too far away no it might be they have to take stones from here which is a real difficult task but only one of them and they have to take stones from the courthouse and that should be a trick. They're not radioactive right now after time they do absorb radiation from the Sun even without taking a few years when people are checking and see what they are they look strange and they'll put there they say 20 years ago and that's not true they were put there after the courthouse was built it was renovated 5 years ago and they came from a certain place and it is Plymouth Rock and it was underneath it's not the rock itself and it put there and it was only about 10 years ago the person that put there put them there knows about it and people think it was Mac and it was and he says it's despicable they fall for every single piece of bait that you put out there. Is a huge day there are tons of people trying for those things and there's huge fights and it's a bigger pain in the ass than with our son there and it started shooting at each other almost it's a big giant fight and it's good we're so sick of these people and there are three other objects and their hammers from different people's but with the blades and you find that in Las Vegas they're all there as a total of I think seven and they are going around doing that and their trumpsters and they're a variety of them and a couple of them turn out to be the whole cleaner and they caused a lot of problems and it's just a freak show they can't lose too much it happens in a while doesn't happen right away but and the roof on the thing is fake but okay so this is going to happen soon and really soon and Dave and his brothers and this is how and why they die because macros after them they steal a bunch of stuff and including the quarters separately from what happens in Central Florida and that's Trump and what happens to him and they think it might be tomorrow during the holiday nobody's at the courthouse and early in the morning they break into the cleaners and he's a little safe and they break into the courthouse to try and get records and they have some big trucks there nothing went zooming by our son with and they leave and they take off and they do go to a couple movies and you can see them but they're really in Las Vegas first and they get Giant and they go around at night and they break into casinos and you need the hammers these days and then break into the vault with other stuff and it's a stupid thing to do but that's what they do and then they end up in the series resident evil and they're disgusting and a whole bunch of them die and you see them in the background getting killed and it's his people and they really deserve it it's just to speed up and they bring the hammers down there and it's for like revenge because Trump is attacking his own kid and the other casino people inside Jason do it he saw Jason do it and decide to do it and it raises attention to the max who are taking over it really kind of pushes that forwards it's going to begin now and planes trains and automobiles is Christmas

Thor Freya but it's before Christmas about 15 days we think or earlier and Tommy boy happens and to be some of some other person

Zues

There's a lot of people that are different people the star of the movie Tommy boy is not Trump and they hate him he keeps saying this dumb s*** and he's going to be out and tonight they're going to send 40 more out and they only have 100 literally they got toasted because of what they're doing out there and today they got roasted too several groups and they had 40 out again and they came back cuz they didn't do anything and they're going out tonight and they have people here. There's a ton of activity all over the planet with these idiots and they are moving North in from the southern continent they're going north in the northern continent and they're all going up to the tundra and they are going into battle and getting slaughtered by the pseudo empire

Hera

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ripgray-moved · 6 months ago

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despite his aversion to doing so, peter rises with the sun that morning. it had been an uneasy night of rest; daryl had been restless, jostling this way and that, and every time he did it, it only made peter more sure that he was going to try and vanish.

he remains, though. by the time there's enough light rendering him able to make a campfire to cook breakfast, peter sets about gathering the necessary wood from the nearby trees before setting it alight.

peter doesn't typically rely on magic when it comes to basic survival tactics. he thinks them important enough— integral enough, even— to his experience to maintain. to keep sharp. that being said, he feels it's important for daryl to truly fathom that he isn't doing anything to impede his efforts to find rick. saying he'll go and actually going are two wildly different things. despite their brief friction the day before, peter very much intends to make good on his end of the deal. all that to say that that morning, he allows himself to use am in order to fish them up something quickly.

the sooner they eat, the sooner they can start moving.

❛ well, it's not ideal... ❜ peter lets his voice trail off, gaze turned to the running stream for a moment. indeed, he wishes the circumstances for which they were following it were better, but he tells himself that so long as he has daryl by his side, things can't turn out too badly. thankfully, it isn't too hard to believe; it's true. ❛ but they'd find me anyway, even if we took the most complicated route in the world. even if we found ourselves in another country, i know they'd find a way to follow. the longest i've ever been without these fucking psychos in my peripheral is three months— and it was only because they were scoping out the people i wound up crossing. ❜

his next bite of cod goes down with a grimace. every time he remembers the rabbits is a time too many. still, he doesn't want daryl to worry— or ask questions— so he smiles. it isn't entirely forced. something about daryl makes him feel hopeful despite his terrible odds.

❛ maybe they just really want my autograph. guess we'll never know, considering we're never gonna stop for them to find out. ❜ he cracks a grin before nodding at his fish. it's considerably more in tact than he'd like, though he doesn't expect him to eat all of it; just a little more than what he currently has. ❛ now hurry up! you wanna leave today, right? ❜

there are plenty of things to worry about with this arrangement, but not one of them has to do with where they're going. peter knows that regardless of where they head, so long as they're together they'll be alright.

daryl isn't a fan of the deep ache that begins to blossom in his stomach as peter speaks. he can't deny that he's pushed his worries about the cult to the wayside in all of his sudden pain and guilt, rick's fall overwhelming and completely encompassing his mind. the reminder of their companionship's origins, however nonchalant, washes a fresh wave of reality over him, chilling and prickly.

if he's honest, after his encounter with the acolyte at the bridge camp, daryl didn't need very much convincing at all to dedicate himself wholly to peter's continued survival. protecting his traveling partner's life means protecting the lives of his people. of all people. once he accepted what happened as truth and not some kind of strange fiction, it wasn't a difficult choice to make. and if his people never truly understand the terror that is being touched by paimon's spidery talons or laying eyes upon his mindmelting visage, if they live in ignorance to it forever, it'll be a miracle. a gracious gift of normalcy that daryl would happily do anything for.

he just doesn't want to mourn anyone else. after everything with rick, he doesn't know how much more emotional turmoil he can realistically stand before he lets himself be lost to it. but if the cult gets to peter? if paimon gets to have his way? they're all dead anyway.

so they have work to do, and none of it involves continuing to sit on the riverbank starving to death. with a soft nod in peter's direction, a firm agreement to the terms he's put forth, daryl takes another drink of water. it settles in his empty stomach with a horrible, sloshing lurch. although the thought of eating anything makes his throat want to close up in nauseous refusal, he'll push through it and eat whatever peter gives him— i'll keep pushing if you do —so they can start moving in the morning.

sleep is fleeting for him that night. he finds himself in and out of consciousness much of the time, small periods of dozing interrupted by stress or a noise or the makings of a nightmare. but even so, he rises as the sun lights up the sky feeling more rested than he has in days.

part of him wants to tell peter that they don't have to do this— that if the cult has been so close to their camp, it may be too dangerous to simply continue down the river. there could be some kind of ambush waiting for them, couldn't there? knowing just how well the cult has been able to cloak themselves from even daryl's keen eye makes him nervous that they won't know they're stepping into the jaws of a trap until it's far too late.

but a selfish part of him still wants to try. peter knows better than he does what the cult is capable of; if he's willing to do this, then it should be fine, right?

either way, it nags at him. he doesn't want his grief to be the catalyst for yet another catastrophe. this, he's had to learn the hard way time and time again. so as peter prepares them a light breakfast, daryl sits nearby. his fingers fidget idly with small sprigs of skinny grass that sprout up from between the rocks around him.

‘ ... you sure about this, pete? ’ he asks softly. it's the first thing he's said since the night prior, voice gravelly as it overlaps the sound of the nearby water to fill the space between them. ‘ river ain't hard t'follow. don't wanna go runnin' into them. ’

#⋆ ⋮ 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲. ❜ ( aintashes. )#⋆ ⋮ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻. ❜ ( verse : apocalypse. )#⋆ ⋮ 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘆. ❜ ( in character. )#aintashes #[ i could SWEAR i posted this wtf????#i finished it last night wtf........ ]#[ I WAS THAT OUT OF IT??? ]

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heliophobek · 3 years ago

Text

Invictus

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Season 6 Alexandria

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: You try to give Daryl a book of poems as a way of saying thanks for helping you out. The only problem is that Daryl isn’t exactly a poetry guy, much less an avid reader. Regardless of this, he still tries to read it. Just for you.

Content Warning: Mentions of age-gap relationship (Reader is in early-mid 20′s), fluff, swearing, things heat up a bit near the end but that’s about it.

Authors Note: This is my first Daryl fic in quite some time so please bare with me as I struggle to figure out the tagging system all over again. ;p If there is any mistakes/errors that I haven’t picked up on, please let me know as I’ll greatly appreciate it, thankyou. <3

The blush that had bloomed on your cheeks began to make it’s way across your body. Like a wildfire, it spread it’s nauseous warmth across your neck, down your back and god only knew where else. To say you were embarrassed was an understatement. What the fuck were you even thinking? Ofcourse he wouldn’t want your stupid little book. This was the end of the world. People were starving and Alexandria was only just making ends meet as it was. It was plain stupid of you to even think Daryl might want to spend his – limited as it was – spare time reading a book. Much less, poetry.

“Y’know what, just forget I said anything. It was a dumb idea.” You began to retreat from the porch where Daryl had been sitting. He had just come back from a run with Aaron. Walking backwards, your steps quickened as he quickly hopped off and followed close behind you.

Before you were able to get any further he had caught your wrist in his firm and unsurprisingly steady grip. The months of wielding a crossbow had come in handy for such an occasion as this he thought. An occasion where Daryl just wouldn't able to avoid you anymore. Especially since you had sought him out, he wasn’t going to let an opportunity like this pass him by anymore.

His hold on you was more delicate than you had imagined, both of you had your eyes concentrated on where your skins were touching before you met back up with his curious gaze, shaking his head so his brain could have a moment to catch up his grip loosened. “Just hold on, I barely sat down when you started talking miles a minute.”

“Oh,” was all you replied as his hand fell back by his side once he was sure you weren’t leaving. You could still feel the warmth from where he had touched your wrist and prayed that he hopefully hadn’t picked up on your already racing pulse. You had noticed that Daryl was always hyperaware of his surroundings, constantly being the ever observant protector of your group. Ever since you first met him at Terminus, you had never seen him anything less than stoic. Maybe that was because he hadn’t fully trusted Rosita, Eugene or you. Much less your Dad, Abraham, whose intimidation and scare tactics were what kept your small group alive on the way to DC. So finally managing to earn the trust of Rick, Daryl and the rest of the group was something that you were indisputably thankful for.

His posture had relaxed as he leaned against the banister of the house. “So you were saying ‘bout a book? Need some more?” Daryl tried to remain nonchalant as he looked at you but he couldn’t help it when his mouth ran dry the second his eyes slid briefly down to your lips. It wasn’t because he was nervous, he was sure of it. Maybe he just needed some more water since it had been a long day.

Softly coughing, you tried to repeat what you had been practicing to say all day, but you just couldn’t form the words. “I- I just wanted to thank you for the math books you found.” You managed to stutter out before pushing the small pocket-sized book towards his chest awkwardly.

You hadn’t expected it when he had dropped three school books by your side a few days ago without saying a word. The sentiment had really touched you, and even if it had only been a momentary thought that Daryl had of you, it was regarded very dearly to you.

It took a few seconds for him to register the book you had pushed since he had stopped breathing for a bit. “The books have been really helpful with teaching the younger ones simple arithmetic,” your continued as he clutched the book. “So I just wanted to say thankyou with this.” Repeating yourself again, you nodded towards the book, quickly tapped it as if it wasn’t obvious before and stepped back again.

This was when Daryl glanced down to actually look at the leather bound anthology that was in his hands. “Thanks.” he said and genuinely meant it. He was thankful since this was the longest conversation he had had with just you. “But am not much of a reader.”

He never knew how to accept gifts but even being given the chance to finally have a conversation with you was enough for him. Daryl leaned forward to you and tried to hand the book back with -what he hoped was – a reassuring smile.

Instead of accepting his refusal, you softly placed your hand over his and pushed back. To say this was awkward would be an understatement. “No, please keep it. I want you to have it.” It became quiet between the two of you once again as you both stared at each other, testing to see who would break their resolve first. Afterall, it was debateable which of you was quieter since neither of you were known to be chatty. Finally nodding his head, he made a promise to himself to try and read it as he realised this could be his chance to talk with you more often. It was like a sense of giddiness had overcome him which he tried to hide with a small sniff.

“It’s okay if you don’t read it though.” You said quickly, unravelling yourself as you realised that perhaps you could have sounded too pushy. He didn’t respond soon enough for your liking so you continued to dig yourself further in a hole of embarrassment. “I just didn’t know how else to show my appreciation and a few of the poems remind me of you… I mean, I guess.”

Damn, why did you say that. You could feel the blush getting worse and secretly hope Daryl wouldn’t pick up on it with the sun setting making it slowly darker. Little did you know Daryl was thinking the same thing. What type of stuff was in this book, for you to even be reminded of him?

To make matters worse, you couldn’t help yourself though as your mouth continued to run on, quickly picking up a notch. “You should read Invictus by William Ernest Henley. It’s near the back.”

With this, you couldn’t help but physically cringe and bid him a farewell before quickly scampering away to overthink every single word you had said to him.

Later that night when most of Alexandria had fallen asleep – apart from those on watch - Daryl was laying down in room, wide awake. He tried to shut his mind off the best he could, but thoughts primarily of kept nestling their way into his head and were refusing to leave. Tossing and turning in his sheets, he grunted to himself as he thought of how you were probably softly snoring by now in the redbrick house across the road. Or maybe you preparing the for the day ahead, figuring out what you should be trying to educate the children of Alexandria with. Maybe you were just talking with Abraham. Bile rose in his throat as he realised how wrong it was of him to be thinking about you. These thoughts weren’t even that bad in comparison to others he’d had of you before.

There was just something about you that made him feel an overwhelming amount of emotions. Guilt bloomed in his chest as thought came back to you father. Abraham was only a little older than him and it was an obvious fact that Daryl was old enough to be your father. It was wrong of him to think of you like that. You were already so timid around everyone, the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. The only time you ever seemed to be in your element was when you were with children. Rick was more than happy to learn that you had been a newly graduated highschool teacher before the world had changed. It gave him hope that Judith would grow with enough foundations to survive and Carl could learn about something that wasn't related to a gun. You were a natural as a teacher and it could be seen by everyone when they had all arrived at Alexandria as you all settled in. Your job was the reason why Daryl had brought those school books back for you in the first place. He wasn't sure if you'd like him trying to help you though, so I he thought only three would be the best way to start.

Daryl couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause for his restless and unrelenting thoughts but he knew it was futile to try and sleep in his current state. So with that, he made his way downstairs, careful not to wake Glenn and Maggie, his bare feet padded across the wooden floors towards the porch. Maybe the night air could put him to sleep, or at the very least distract his thought. After all it was worth a shot.

Sitting on the porch swing, his mind kept replaying the interaction he’d had with you earlier. Almost automatically, he fished out the small book you had given him. When you first came up to Daryl, he had barely any time to process what you were saying as you shoved what had looked like a pocket bible towards him. Glancing across the street to your house he saw that the light from a second floor window was still on. Maybe it was you? God he had to snap himself out this. Which is why he was going to read a book instead. A book you gave him.

Smiling at the irony, he settled back into the porch swing and thumbed through the book, admiring all the notes you had pencilled into the columns. Maybe this book really was his shot at talking to you more. Or at the very least trying to figure what was always going on in the pretty little head. Looking for the poem you were on about earlier he quickly skimmed the titles until he found it.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley. That was it. Something about it remind you of him and he wanted to find out exactly what. Thankfully the poem itself was barely a page long. But the annotations you had left were crammed into all the blank spaces. Several areas were rubbed out with eraser and refilled with other words that you must have thought were better. Exhaling slowly, he began to read.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

He could already tell that if it weren’t for you, he would have put down the book after the first sentence and never have given it a second thought. All these big words that smart people used to say before the world ended were right there, printed on this tiny page in front of him. He didn’t even know what half it meant but he rubbed his eyes and continued you on.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

Finishing it, he couldn’t understand why you seemed to even like this stuff. It was a waste of time to try and think of a million ways to describe something. Using a metaphor to show a meaning was stupid. What was the point in a world like the one you lived in now? Getting straight to the point was how you survived. Daryl didn’t like to bash around the bush when it came to most things, he never had so why try now? Atleast that was what he thought until he realised that was exactly what he'd been doing with you, tip-toeing around with his feelings for you. Never confronting them for what they truly were out of shame. Shaking his head at his own self-awareness he squinted back down to the book.

From your notes he found the poem to be much more enlightening though. As he read what you wrote, he could almost hear you saying it aloud. Invictus conveys the message to never lose hope no matter the circumstance, and how you control your fate and decide your future. It’s about courage in the face of death, and holding on to one's own dignity despite the indignities life places before us. He still couldn’t understand why you thought of him though. Perhaps you were lying. Yeah that was probably it.

Nearly jumping out of his own skin, the crunch of gravel was what alerted him to your presence. Switching his gaze between your face and the now darkened window across the street, he realised you must have seen him on the porch. You were wearing your normal hiking boots, but had combined it with a grey tank top and plaid bottoms. It was just starting to come into fall so he wasn’t exactly shocked at what you were wearing but his mouth had once again run dry from the sight of you. “Hope I didn’t scare you.” You apologised and toed the gravel.

“nah, takes more than you to scare the-“ he said and paused before looking back at the poem, “-Captain of my soul.”

You grinned at his obvious attempt at a joke. Even if it wasn’t exactly the correct use of the quote, you felt an insatiable hunger come over you for him. He looked irresistible in that moment, and he was reading the poem? This felt like the beginning to a new fantasy of yours. Trying to clear the cloud of thoughts you focused in on him, “Did you like it?”

Your nerves were on fire but you couldn’t help it. When you peaked out your bedroom window a few minutes ago you were hardly expecting to see Daryl sitting on the porch. It almost seemed too good to be true that your Dad, Rosita and Eugene were all already passed out in their respective rooms.

Daryl let out a small sigh, deciding how he should play this. Holding up the book in his hands he quickly shut it before sitting up right so there’d be room for you on the wing. “I didn’t really get it.” He said honestly. Afterall, why pretend like he was smart. You looked downed abashedly, you suddenly regretted asking him what he thought before Daryl continued on. “Did like your notes though. Helped me understand better an’ all that.”

Feeling a small boost of confidence you smiled and planted yourself down next to him. “I can always write some more annotations if you’d like.” Your voice had a note of uncertainty which Daryl picked up on in your offer. Afterall you still weren’t sure if Daryl was just putting up with you for the sake of manners or if he even wanted to be spending time like this with you.

Daryl moved the book back into your hand. “Show me another one. Maybe with less fancy words.”

You had to laugh at that which caused Daryl to grin a little smugly. He made you laugh. Something you hadn’t done in quite some time. “Some of the words are a little pretentious, I must agree.”

He had no clue what pretentious meant but the little smirk you gave him was more than enough to make him crave more of your happiness. Your eyes quickly settled back down as you flicked through the book while strands of your hair that had been tucked behind your ear began to fall out. “I can show you my absolute favourite poem, if you’d like?”

Before he could even realise how bad of an idea it was his hand had swiftly moved towards your face and brushed the loose strands back. You sucked in a breath at his action which Daryl most definitely heard, causing him to pull his hand back as if it had been burned. The two of you remained frozen att the sudden tension that had risen from his incredibly forward action. Something that was so uncharacteristic oof him you almost thought you’d just vividly imagined it.

Nodding his head, he couldn’t help but shut his eyes hoping he’d be swallowed up by the ground. “Sure.” He answered, hoping you would also ignore what had just happened. You heartbeat was pumping through your ears as you realised that possibly, there was a chance that you’re feelings weren’t as one-sided as you had first originally thought. He kept his eyes closed as he waited for you to break the silence.

Nervously you looked at him, glad he couldn’t see you and the desperate look of admiration you knew you had on your face. Not even glancing at the book anymore, it was cast aside. This was probably the one poem you didn’t need to read off the book for. It had been engrained into your mind ever since first reading it. So you started.

“I wish I wrote the way I thought” Your brief pause didn’t seem to stir him as he listened intently.

“Obsessively – Incessantly – With maddening hunger.” Inhaling as much air as your lungs could hold, you were about to continue until the swing began to shift under both your weights. Gently moving to reposition yourself, you accidentally grazed against his arm, swiftly steadying the swing again. Although his eyes didn’t open, his breathing stopped as he savourd in the small amount of pressure against his arm. In that moment the both of you had realised the physical proximity you were to each other and that this swing was actually, a love seat.

Keeping his eyes shut, he waited patiently for you to continue. Or move away. Whatever it was that would happen he was waiting for it. Without having the pressure of his always observant stare on you, you couldn’t help but lap up the opportunity to intently let your eyes roam his whole body. The way his arms flexed as they laid atop his slowly rising chest, the small lines under his eyes, the scruff of his beard and the way his chapped lips seemed like they were on the brink of saying something. Continuing, you leaned your head on his shoulder hoping he wouldn’t mind. “I’d write to the point of suffocation - I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns - Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing.” Trying his absolute hardest not to move, he froze as he felt your hair brush along his vest. You were so close that Daryl knew if he breathed through his nose he’d be able to smell the shampoo him and Aaron had picked up while back.

Your voice was just above a whisper now. His eyes had opened again as apprehension at what was actually happening slowly dawned on him. “And I’d write about you.” Giving you a questioning look, you nervously moved your hand towards the warmth of his that was resting on his thigh, desperately hoping he’d react. “A lot more - Than I should.”

The tension that had suddenly built up between the two of you was immeasurable. As if it was the most natural movement in the world, his hand tenderly turned to hold onto yours, his fingers quickly making their way interlinking with yours. Silence was thick between the two you as the feelings you both had been holding back these past months rose to the surface.

“You write that?” His voice sounded more hoarse than usual, as if he’d barely used it for days.

Looking back up to him, the blush that was prominent on your face when you shook your head no was undisguisable. “No, some guy called Benedict Smith did. It just reminds me of you.”

“Oh,” he coughed and inadvertently glanced down to your lips. They looked like the softest thing he’d ever laid his eyes upon. You slowly began to rub your thumb along his and glanced down. He couldn’t believe how beautiful you looked from the low light of the porch, divinely ethereal or something like that would be how all the poets would have put it he thought. Regardless, he felt like the luckiest man on earth for whatever was happening in that moment. “I think I’ll just pretend you wrote it.”

You could feel the flutter of his breath flow across your face now. The two of you so tantalising close the warmth that radiated from him was something you didn’t realise how much you’d been yearning for. Leaning your face closer to him, you waited for Daryl to seal the distance, but he didn’t move. Staring at each other, the wordless conversation was so in deep in meaning it felt like no language could ever begin to be as in depth. You couldn’t help but let out a small plea to him, hoping he’d finally give in to you, “please.”

He couldn’t seem to move as he spoke to you. “Sweetheart,” his hushed voice sounded pained, “y’know I’m too old for you.” As he leaned back your hand found it’s way to his cheek. Daryl shut his eyes once again, relishing at the touch he knew he’d have to be giving up too soon before anything got out of hand. Shit, it was already out hand, but he simply couldn’t.

It wasn’t right to take advantage of you. You were a forbidden fantasy that he had no right in pursuing, regardless of how much he desperately wanted to. He had to make sure you knew that. Before he could push you away any further, you had cupped his face with both hands with a rising perseverance. “Maybe back then you were, but things are different now.”

“What would your Pa say, honey.” He countered in return and moved his calloused hand up to yours, preparing to pull you off him. He wasn’t sure who was more pained by this as you shut your eyes to the sight.

Shaking your head with defiance, you weren’t going to give up on him so easily. It was obvious by the way he was looking down at you he wanted you just as much. Hastily moving, you saddled yourself on top of him, straddling his lower waist to secure him on the seat. Maybe it was how late it was. Maybe it was these new and scary feelings that were being unearthed inside the both of you. Maybe you just couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, but there was no way you weren’t going to fight for this.

His breath had hitched at such an inappropriate position you had placed him in. If anyone saw this and told Abraham, he knew he’d be a dead man walking. Trying not to moan at the pressure you were putting on him, Daryl looked up at you pleadingly.

Physically, he was strong enough to push you away or even stand up to put you down, but he knew somewhere deep within him that wasn’t a possibility. He could only deny the temptation that was you for so long and the more you kept pushing back it was becoming harder and harder for him. Moving your upper body closer to him, your chest lingered against his as you moved your mouth to his ear. You tried your absolute hardest for him to understand that you really didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t want anyone else. “You’re a good man Dar.”

Grunting, he tried to keep up his resolve but it was quickly crumbling around him at a rate he was not use to. He tried his absolute best to not enjoy what was currently happening but it was with extreme difficulty. “You can’t just say shit like that.” He huffed and pulled your hand that was still holding his closer his chest. Having them act a a divide between the two of you, he was wanting nothing more that to kiss your knuckles like he use to see in those old type movies. “You deserve so much better.”

“I really don’t Daryl and you- oh my god.” Your tone had completely switched as the blood drained out of your face. Jumping off him as you had been electrocuted, you tripped over your feet and fell flat on your ass right beside the large pot plant, praying he hadn’t seen you. Daryl rushed over to you, kneeling down to see if you were okay before looking around the close perimeter. Not seeing any immediate threat he looked back at you. Your hair was ruffled and your breathing was deep. Shaking his head from the unhelpful thoughts he moved his hand to your cheek.

“What is it?” He asked, looking around once again tense and ready to face the danger wherever it came from.

“Eugene. I- I think.” You admitted and nodded towards your house. Daryl looked over and saw the light in the front first floor bedroom was now on and the silhouette of Eugene shutting the curtains was clear as day. He must have left them open earlier in the day and only closed them now. Soon enough the light was turned off again and it was just the two of you again.

Sighing out with relief, Daryl almost laughed at the state you were in. “Well shit, didn’t realise you were so embarrassed to be seen with me”

Rolling your eyes you faked laughed. “Yeah, I’m the one who’s embarrassed.” You responded and began to push yourself back up onto your feet before feeling small pain in your hand.

Naturally Daryl noticed and picked up your hand to see for himself the problem. “Ya got some splinters there.”

“No shit Sherlock.” You said and elbowed him which had earned a small chuckle. The mood had once again shifted, what you tried to start quickly fizzled out. Staring at him intently, you weren’t sure what to do. Afterall, he knew exactly how you felt and you couldn’t believe the casualness Daryl was currently oozing. In reality, Daryl was in uncharted territory with you and it scared the shit out of him. What the fuck was he going to do? That was quickly decided for him when he realised that it was almost time for guard duty shifts were going to be swapping soon. Not wanting anymore chances to be caught but still wanting to talk with you, he soon realised that was only one option for him to actually pick.

“Wanna come inside?” Motioning his head towards the door he braced himself for your answer. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was something he’d expect a teenager to do. Something he’d expect someone your age to do. “Might have some tweezers.”

Biting your lip you nodded before trying to make light of the situation. “If I said I sprained my ankle, would you pick me up like you did just before?”

“Very funny.” He said in a voice as unamused as he could make it. Standing up he held out his hand for you. However before you were able to accept his help with your good hand the man had squatted himself back down to your level and wrapped his arms around you. One along your waist and the other under your legs. Carrying you bridal style, he made his way into the house.

Quietly, Daryl made his way up the stair to his bedroom, a million thoughts racing across the both of your minds as he still held his firm and steady grip on you. Setting you softly on the bed he quickly pulled away and moved to the bathroom down the hallway in search of tweezers. This left you on your lonesome in his room. It was the first time you had been up the stairs, much less actually in here and it was just how you’d expected it to be. Minimalist. Nothing but his crossbow placed on the empty desk signifying that this was in fact Daryl’s room.

When he came back, he quietly shut the door before turning around to find you standing right behind him.

“Thought you had a sprained ankle.”

Shrugging, you innocently smiled at him, “I guess I’m a fast healer.” Shaking his head in disbelief he held up the tweezers and looked at you questioningly.

“Want me to pull em’ out?”

You nodded walked right up to him, revelling in the look he gave you. Holding out your hand with your palm open in front of him he began his work. There were only three that needed to be pulled out, it was quite frankly childish considering some other injuries the both of you had collected in the past year alone.

The feeling of his hands softly cupping yours was enough for your ever present blush to turn a few shades even darker. After he had finished examining you hand and declared it to be ‘”right as rain.” You went up to your tiptoes and let your lips softly brush against his cheek.

Moving away just as fast as you had come, you waited with baited breath for his reaction. His cheeks had flushed as he became suddenly engulfed in thoughts of you. Looking at you he couldn’t bring himself to pull away as his hands remained on you. He was enthralled by your loveliness and simply was at a loss for words from your sudden action. Watching as your face fell ever so slightly, it was like his brain had gone on autopilot. So when his mouth had met your, the initial reaction from both of you was shock. Immediately followed by hunger as his arms became wrapped around you back, pulling you further into him.

As your lips reacted to his, your hands began to wonder of their own accord, slowly draping their way around his neck to pull his lean frame closer to you. Feeling your hands lightly tug against the ends of his hair only further encouraged him.

The two of you began walking towards his bed, the ever growing friction between you two coming to a head as you sat down and scooted further up the mattress with him following closely behind.

The feeling of you against was making him ravenous as he lips parted to quickly trail soft kisses down your neck causing you to moan. Finding your sweet spot, he couldn’t help but feel proud of the fact he was the one pulling these noises out of you.

Gasping at the feeling of one of his legs pushing in between yours, he was hovering above you now, his arms supporting him as he moved back to kiss your face. “Oh Dar,” you sighed in content, gripped his vest at the front while moved to kiss each of your cheeks before staring at you.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” He asked when you stroked his face. You nodded at him before moving your hands down to his shirt.

He quickly stopped you however, one hand picking up your wrist and moving it back up to his face. Hurt was evident on your face before you had time to hide it from him he reassured you. “Not tonight, baby.”

“But that means we will- it will…happen one day?” You asked as hope bloomed within.

Moving back down to place one last kiss on your forehead he answered, “promise.”

And God forbid, Daryl wasn’t anything apart from a man of his word.

Cracking a grin, he couldn’t help himself before he added. “That is, if your Pa doesn’t feed me to the walkers.”

---

Thankyou for reading! I haven’t written anything in what feels like an eternity so coming back to tumblr for Daryl is making me feel almosty giddy :D

I’m currently accepting requests so please send them through if you’re interested!

Also the two poems I mentioned in this fic are some of my all time favourites and it was a necessity for me to added them in :)

#Daryl Dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd fluff #Daryl Dixon Fluff #Daryl Dixon fanfic #twd #fanfic #fluff #daryl dixon smut #daryl imagines #daryl dixon #daryl dixon oneshot

455 notes · View notes

doe-writes-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

With war at the prison's doorstep--and a frighteningly real possibility of losing everything--the weight of unspoken feelings proves too great to ignore.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 7.4k

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit sexual content, smoking, mentions of canon-typical violence.

The prison was eerily quiet. A calm, a stillness, had settled into the concrete and metal. As if the structure itself was holding its breath. On any other night, that might have been a blessing.

Silence meant safety. It meant baby Judith wasn't causing a fuss, fed and cared for, and that the walkers hadn't breached the chain fences surrounding your home. No clawing at the doors, the scratch of dead fingernails on glass and walls. There was nothing worse than hearing those haunting groans of the flesh-eaters right when you thought you were in the clear.

Suffice to say, silence meant everything was as it should be. Safe and sound. But tonight, that was furthest from the truth.

The peace talk with the Governor a few days before had gone as any of you had expected; absolutely nowhere. He'd talked circles with Rick for hours, and by the end of it all no hope of compromise was on the table. Just more casual threats of war, and a cool confidence that the prison survivors had no other option but to leave or die.

Neither sounded particularly appealing.

Merle's rogue attempt at solving the problem on his own had only made things worse. Most notably for Daryl. He kept up appearances, but you suspected his brother's death was affecting him more than he was letting on. His insistence on being left the fuck alone after he'd come back from trying to stop Merle's foolish escapade spoke volumes.

And while the older Dixon had never been a friend of yours, or even a decent human being in your opinion--he'd thrown the terms 'sugar tits' and 'sweet cheeks' in your direction more times than you're willing to count--the fact that his death hurt Daryl so much made you sorry to see him gone. You'd all lost so much already. Anything further was just insult to injury.

You shift in place against the 2nd floor walkway's metal railing, all racing thoughts and visions of worst case scenarios. As a whole, you were out of options. No amount of diplomatic discussion was going to solve the problem of Woodbury and its relentless leader. And war was...well, it was war. Some of you weren't coming back from this. Maybe more than some.

Alternatively, none of you were willing to abandon the prison like the Governor demanded. Not when it had cost so much to secure and make it a home in the first place. Months out on the road, finding temporary shelter for a night just to pick up and leave it in the morning, had made you dig your nails into the roots of the prison and hold on for dear life. It wasn't a spoken discussion, but the expressions on everyone's face when Rick had described the Governor's under-the-table deal with him made it wholly apparent you were all in agreement.

There was no reason for the Governor to hold back now, to pull punches. Not when Merle had betrayed the terms of the deal--Michonne's life for the rest of the survivor's lives--though from what you had seen of Woodbury's leader thus far, it would have ended with all of you dead regardless. No doubt, he'd want to wipe the prison off the face of the map at his first opportunity. Tomorrow morning you'd have to be prepared to fight for your lives.

And while your mouth went dry at the prospect of being shot at, it was the only path forward with a light at the end of the tunnel.

So caught up in the endless 'what-ifs' of the day to come, you don't notice someone approaching until they leaned back against the metal railing beside you. Your heart soars up into your throat with a small gasp, not expecting any company so late at night, but closing your eyes with a calming breath when you recognized who it was. Daryl regarded you with his usual stony expression.

"Hey." You say simply, passing a hand across your face. Now that you knew there was no danger, that the Governor hadn't somehow snuck his way into the prison in the middle of the night, you felt ridiculous for getting startled in the first place.

Daryl only grunted, settling a little more comfortably against the metal at his back, arms crossed over his chest. The cold, blue rays of the moon's light filtered in through the dingy glass windows opposite the cell blocks, and you use the light to examine him.

He seemed...ok, considering. Disheveled, weary, with his jaw tense. Was he as nervous at what morning would bring? Daryl was routinely the picture of resilience when shit hit the fan, and it often did. He was a pillar of strength for the little group of survivors just as much as Rick himself, but you supposed that it would be impossible to keep that up all the time. Maybe it was starting to weigh on him.

It suddenly occurred to you to wonder what he was doing out here in the first place.

The silence stretched, neither of you willing to be the one to break it, until Daryl digs a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and takes one from the box. He settles it between his lips, and you can't help but stare. Then, perhaps as an afterthought, he takes a second out and offers it to you, eyes watching carefully. You take it with little hesitation. No point in worrying about dying from lung cancer when you could very well be killed in a rain of bullets come morning.

You shift to face him, waiting as he digs his lighter out and brings it beneath the end. You hear a few snicks as the flame catches and inhale deeply, helping the embers ignite. He lights his own and stuff the lighter away as puffs of smoke swirls between you.

The tobacco tastes dull, but the nicotine is a welcome respite, some of the nerves settling low enough that you can finally push back a few of the loudest and most troubling voices battling for attention in your head. Your eyes close to relish this tiny moment of artificial peace. The smoke blows out from your lips and rises towards the ceiling. You watch as it coils before dissipating entirely.

"You ok?" You blurt out unexpectedly, surprising even you. He catches you in a glance, but then his eyes slide back to the cell door opposite form where you two are standing.

"Don't know." His shoulder gives a stiff shrug and his voice is husked when he speaks, and you feel stupid for having asked in the first place. Still, this muted reaction is better than the bristling string of insults he might have once thrown your way, had you been back at that camp in Atlanta or even the farm. Hell, that felt like so long ago now...how simple those days had been.

"What are you doing awake?" You venture, emboldened by the fact he wasn't walking away at your prodding. Talking to Daryl beat brooding in your own muddled, morose soup of thoughts.

"Could ask you the same." His eyes pin you with a curious stare now, and it's your turn to look away with a shrug. You take another drag on the cigarette, the end glowing a faint red, before answering.

"Can't sleep. Too much on my mind."

You expect that to be the end of it--Daryl wasn't much of a natural conversationalist--but you're pleasantly surprised tonight. "All this Governor shit, right?"

"Yeah." A huffed laugh escapes you lips, and your head shakes sadly. "Kind of hard to ignore...Anything could happen tomorrow, and I'm not sure how to deal with it."

Daryl made a little gesture with his hand. "Same as always. Walkers, these pricks, it don't matter...Either way, they're tryin'a kill us. Can't just lay down and die."

"It's so simple when you put it that way."

"'Cuz it is." Daryl wasn't mincing words, and the candid honesty was refreshing. He shot you a pointed glance. "Worryin' about it? Won't change nothin.'"

With a tilt of your head, you concede the point. He was right, but that didn't stop you.

"I'm not used to being the one on the other end of the gun. Dead things trying to tear me limb from limb, I can manage that. But people? Living, breathing, people? They think, they plan, they strategize. They're so much more dangerous than the walkers."

"Ain't like we don't got guns of our own." He points out. "And Rick's got a plan."

You sigh and nod, but it's half-hearted at best. "...just gotta hope it'll work."

"It will." Daryl takes another long drag on the cigarette, shifting in place so the metal railing doesn't dig into his back quite so bad. "We'll make it work."

So sure of himself. So confident. Despite all of the doubts and anxieties that still eat away at you, a smile still manages to settle itself on your face. Rueful, perhaps a little skeptical, but a smile all the same.

You'd noticed the change, gradually. From the belligerent camp redneck everyone kept at an arm's length, to one of the strongest and most unwavering members of your team. Gone were the days when he'd storm off with a mouthful of snide remarks in his wake. When he'd push everyone away and announce in no uncertain terms he didn't give a shit what happened to them. You couldn't even remember the last time he'd called you a 'nosy bitch' for asking him one too many questions for his liking.

And while it was still common for Daryl to go off when he got frustrated or pissed off, the venom that often had dripped from every word out of his mouth was largely absent. Maybe his temper was abating, or maybe you were all just getting used to it.

There was no one better at putting problems into perspective. Small wonder you looked up to him so much. Even smaller wonder you had a fondness for him that ran further than simple friendship. Survival was strength in this world, and you'd always had a weakness for tough, capable men...

You head gives a slow, incredulous shake. "I don't know how you do it, Daryl."

"Do what?" His eyes narrow, noticing your expression but not understanding the cause.

"Look at the bigger picture and say just the right thing to keep us from deciding the fight's not worth it anymore." Your hand gestures at his chest. "Unwavering certainty that everything'll work out just fine. It's like you never doubt anything, never accept things like they are. Nothing beats you down. Nothing breaks you. I...really admire that."

The compliments make him uncomfortable, and his gaze ducks away again. He turns to lean forward on his arms against the railing, looking down at the first level below, taking another fortifying drag of his cigarette. "That ain't true."

"Sure it is." You shrug, gesturing around the prison as if it was obvious. "We're all still here, still fighting. And that's not just because of Rick."

He's quiet as you puff more smoke, letting the silence stretch. Rick's plan might be the best you could have come up with given the circumstances, but the possibility of failure was ever-present. If this was to be your last night alive...you wanted it to be an honest one. It felt nice being honest and open about what you thought of him. Discomfort aside, he deserved to know he was appreciated.

Realizing he might retreat if you kept this up, you ease back, turning towards the windows letting in the moonlight. A few more puffs of smoke and the cigarette is down to the end bud. You flick the ash over the railing before tossing the butt behind you, digging it into the concrete walkway with the heel of your shoe. It smears a black stain into the already dirty surface.

Somewhere, a muffled and distant cough is heard. Someone tossing and turning. Snatching what little sleep any of you could before the killing started. The reminder of sleep makes you sigh.

Your mouth opens, about to thank Daryl for the cigarette and the company and retire for an unsuccessful attempt at sleep, but he beats you to the punch.

"Doubt things all the time. Just don't show it." His mutter is just loud enough to make out, and you almost wonder if he'd meant for you to hear it at all.

"Some things are easy; walkers, huntin', stayin' alive. You do or you don't. Simple as that, ain't nothing to doubt. But others..." His head shakes and his hands clench, and you suspect you're heading down a path of conversation he isn't particularly comfortable with. "...always gotta have a reason, a purpose...whatever. Thought that was finding Merle for a long time. Knew he wasn't dead, even with his hand cut off. Tough son of a bitch, my brother. Only family I had left--hell, only one who ever gave a damn--figured I'd see him again eventually. But now he's gone and I've got nothin'."

"You've got us." You offer.

"Maybe, but...he was my brother. My blood." His flat, empty tone leaves little doubt that he's just agreeing with you for the sake of placating the conversation.

"Family can be more than blood."

"Hmm."

Daryl's gaze is focused and intentionally kept away from you, and you're silent in the wake of perhaps the most emotional conversation you think you've ever heard with the hunter. You hang onto every word, seeing how much it was making him uncomfortable to speak them, and yet wondering all the same why he felt the need.

Curiosity eats at you. All this talk feels like he's circling around the words he really wants to say, but unsure how to do it. So you tilt your head to face him and give him a verbal prod. "Why're you out here, Daryl?"

The question hangs between you, sounding louder in the quiet emptiness. Seconds pass, the air thick with something you couldn't put a name to. Daryl works his jaw tightly, and just when you think he's not going to answer, that you've pushed your luck a little too far, his head shakes minutely.

"Been thinkin' about a lot since losing Merle...seein' him as one of those things. And I..." A hand brushes through his hair, worked up and with no real outlet to release it. You get the impression he's just barely holding back the impulse to pace back and forth, frustration coming off him in waves. "...I got things I wanna say. Just don't know how to say 'em."

Connecting whatever dots you could, a tiny frown furrows your brow. "...to me?"

"Yeah."

He sucks one last heavy drag from his own cigarette, tossing the end down to the level below. A tiny tendril of smoke follows it, and you both find your eyes drawn to it. Now with nothing to occupy his hands, his forearms lean against the top of the railing and he fidgets distractedly with his own fingers.

"You always gave a shit about me. Even when you shouldn't've." He starts in such a quiet voice, refusing to look at you or he might lose the nerve to continue. "Was an asshole, just like my brother. But you still treated me fair."

"I'm not the only one." You point out. "Carol cares about you."

He gives a shrug, acknowledging the point.

"Tried lookin' for her little girl when no one else did. Made sense." Daryl sniffed uncomfortably. "But you're...different. Never needed my help, never did nothin' for you. But you still cared about a good-for-nothin' redneck prick anyway. Don't know what to think about that."

You catch the shift of his eyes in your direction, as if looking for some answer to his questions. But all you do is shake your head with a small smile. "You weren't ever 'good-for-nothing.' Just...a little standoffish."

"See, you're still doin' it." He gestures at you with his hand, as if you'd just proved his point. "Always kind to me for no reason. It's goddamn confusing."

Eyes lifting to gaze at the moon coming through the windows, something stirred in your chest. If you were both being honest tonight, it was about time you started catching up, you suppose. "It wasn't for no reason."

His stare feels heavy as it bores into you. "Then why?"

"Because I wanted to. Because I could. Is that really so strange?" You give a little shrug when he grunts his disbelief. "I've always liked talking to you, Daryl. And you don't have to believe me, but that's the truth. You're a good person. I know that deep down. And good people deserve kindness."

A beat, then two, of no response brings your gaze back over to meet his own. This time he doesn't shy away, jaw working and teeth biting at his lower lip the way they did when he was pondering some conundrum. He's otherwise still, the fidgeting pausing as he contemplates. His dark irises flick back and further between your own, searching for...something. Whatever it might be is a mystery.

Maybe he finds what he's looking for. Maybe he doesn't. You're not sure.

It's not lost on you how intimate this situation is, or...could have been. Alone in the dark, in the quiet, laying out truths neither of you were totally comfortable sharing. There were so many nights you'd longed to have a conversation just like this with him. To get to know him. To have him trust you the way you always had in return.

An inherent pull deep in your chest enticed you not to look away from his eyes. His dark, observing and intelligent eyes. In another life, in another time...a part of you thought you could have found the voice necessary to tell him just how much you cared for him. But it felt moot now. Too little, too late.

"Say we snuff it tomorrow." He starts unexpectedly. "Maybe you're right, maybe Rick's plan goes sideways and some of us eat a bullet."

You frown, caught off guard by this switch. "But you said-"

"Know what I said. And you best believe we're gonna fight like hell when the Governor and his people roll up. But shit happens. People die." The last few words are laden with underlying grief, and he sighs heavily. "We ain't God. Don't get to be."

Reality hits you with a numb feeling, the silence that follows it thick and ugly. No matter how optimistic any of you tried to be, the cruel nature of the world now was unavoidable. So many had already been lost to it. Too many to count, though their names hung at the tip of your tongue. People you'd never foresee having known before the dead rose, but all lives that mattered so much to you now.

Perhaps you'd be joining them soon enough.

"Can't help thinkin' how I got a couple regrets. Things I said or did to Merle, to Carol, to others. Always figured there weren't no way to die without a few, but I just...I..." He continued on with a frustrated sigh, agitated. The discomfort nearly doubles as he shifts on his feet and can no longer look you in the eyes again. "...don't want you to be one of 'em."

The meaning behind his admission doesn't register immediately. But as soon as it does, something warm rises to your chest, and your lungs seem to tighten in hope or...disbelief. Your nails dug themselves into the flesh of your arm just to make sure this wasn't all some sick dream.

"Daryl-"

"Couldn't sleep, thinkin' we could die before I worked up the nerve to say all this shit." He sniffs, head hung low to put as much figurative distance as he could between you two without going so far as to actually walk away. "You're...important to me. Ain't just one of the others. Never were, even when I tried damn hard to feel different. Guess it took Merle dyin' and the Governor's petty little war to stop fuckin' pussy-footin' around and actually admit it."

You swallow, unsure of what to say or what to do. Here he was, wearing his heart on his sleeve, and you were utterly speechless in return.

With his lips pursed together, Daryl pushed away from the railing and turned away. Whatever courage he'd bolstered to speak his piece seemed gone now. "Don't have to say nothin.' Maybe you shouldn't. Just...had to say it." He reasoned.

The terrifying realization that he was about to leave you there alone again after all that prompted you to grab onto the back of his vest. He goes no further than a step or two.

"You're important to me too, Daryl." Is your hurried confession. He freezes, and the rest comes spilling out before you can really filter what it is you're saying. "Why do you think I always wanted to be around you? Or take watch with you? Or talk to you so damn often? Hell, I worried I was being too obvious about it, but I guess not."

He still hasn't turned back to look your direction, so you take the initiative and plant yourself in his way. Your fists grab ahold of the front of his vest and keep him from retreating any further. And while he may be loathe to meet your eyes in the middle of this emotional conversation, you don't give him much of a choice.

"No matter what happens--whether it's one or both of us who gets a grave, or if we all get to keep living--you're one of the people I care most about in my life, before or after the world went to shit. There's no one I trust more, no one I'd rather have my back." The tiny movement of his eyes down to your lips nearly halts your entire thought process, but by some miracle you manage to keep talking. "I care about you more than...I ever thought I deserved to."

There's a stirring of curiosity, of hope, in his gaze, but it's blurred by waves of guilt. "It's my fault I never said shit 'til now."

"It's not all on you. I could've done it. I just...never thought you'd feel the same."

"Didn't think so either." He says, shifting on his feet and unconsciously eating away at the already small distance between you. He couldn't seem to look away from your lips, chewing on his own in deep thought. Oh...

"Now look at us." A rueful smile takes up your face as you exhale a breathy laugh, finding humor even in this whole situation. "A couple hours away from war, pouring our fucking hearts out. I'd say we have pretty shit timing, huh?"

He only hums, so focused on you that you feel the beating in your chest harder than usual. Could he hear it? Did he know just how much you were hoping he'd lean down and kiss you like you'd secretly been envisioning for months?

But there's still hesitation. There's still uncertainty. Something's telling him that this was a bad idea, you guessed. Did he think you'd regret it if everything worked out? That you'd suddenly turn your back on him after living another day, not anticipating having to deal with the implications of your actions that night? You wondered that yourself, but the answers came clear as day.

Resolving to give him the little push he needed to cross that line, one of your hands releases his vest and reaches up to gently cup his cheek.

"I don't want to be one of your regrets." You say quietly. "But you...being with you...wouldn't ever be one of mine."

That did it. Daryl swallows thickly, eyes clouding before whatever reluctance had been holding him back finally recedes. He takes a half-step forward, placing you practically chest-to-chest. You feel his fingers thread through your hair as you close your eyes when he leans in.

He kisses you like you'll pull away at any second; not at all like you'd imagined the gruff hunter to be. Slow, testing, barely more than a gentle press against your own lips. He's nervous, and while you are too, the soaring vindication of your reciprocated feelings has you coaxing him into a second kiss that's something a little more.

The first few were all Daryl needed before the restraint he'd been displaying thus far began to crumble. Feeling you want this as much as him did wonders. All the months of wasted time hopelessly, blindly, circling each other was giving way to desires neither of you had expected to ever get a chance at fulfilling. A sense of urgency, the sudden feeling like there wasn't enough time to take it slow, heats the need in your blood. It felt like the temperature inside the prison had risen several degrees already.

A desperation you understood completely had him grabbing hold of your waist and shuffling you backwards to press against the nearest wall. With a grunt, you catch your breath as you back hits harder than you'd expected it would, but Daryl's mouth is on yours only a moment later, leading you with deep kisses that send anticipatory shivers down your spine. You hear a breathy moan, but are unsure which one of you it came from.

His hand on your head guides you as he'd like, eager and exploratory as he comes to know the feeling of your mouth against his own. The other snakes its way up under you shirt, fingers trailing flesh and touching in ways and places only your guilty dreams had managed to replicate. A grunt escapes your lips when they brush over your ribcage, just beneath the fabric covering your breasts.

The silence of the prison falls away around you, muffled by the heavy thumps in your chest and the sounds of your mingling breaths in between. You pull him closer by the belt in his pants, vying for more but leaving just enough room for your other hand to snake down and feel against the denim over his crotch. Daryl exhales sharply through his nose, hips involuntarily pressing further at the way your hand feels against his covered hard-on. As if in retaliation, his tongue pushes into your own mouth and you let him without resistance.

You'd wanted this for so long, and now that you had it, you didn't want to stop. But despite the rest of the group asleep in the cells further down, you were both terribly exposed out here. You still possessed the good sense to know going anything further should probably be taken somewhere else, lest you make just a little too much noise and wake one of the lighter sleepers.

It's harder than you'd like to admit to pull away, and you speak through breathless pants. "Inside." You suggest, pushing off the wall to guide him towards the neighboring cell. It just so happened to be your own. Coincidental...

"Fuck..." He curses in husky frustration, stopping you from pulling him inside. "Nah, we ain't doin' this in no damn cage."

At first, you think he's telling you that he's changed his mind, but with a gentle tug on your hand, he's dragging you away from the cells and towards the door to one of the administrative offices. While it didn't have a bed, Daryl had decided to make it his sleeping quarters when they'd first arrived at the prison. Apparently it was comfortable enough that he hadn't ever felt the need to change that arrangement.

The nerves across your body are impatiently buzzing beneath your skin as he leads you inside. The windows here are covered in heavy drapes to keep the sun and moonlight out, plunging the room in a thick darkness.

Even in your haste, you're careful in closing the door behind you, making sure it doesn't slam and wake the others. But not a second later, Daryl's captured your lips again with a pleased sigh, walking you closer towards where his bedroll lay. You're not sure how he can see where he's going, but assume he's familiar enough with the room that he doesn't need the light to navigate by.

With his initial nerves seemingly gone, he's eager and direct and the desire clouding all other thought in your mind meets it in equal measure. First it's the vest; shoved off his shoulders with your shaking hands and tossed to the ground somewhere behind him. Then your shirt, dragged up and off of your torso, and your pants unzipped and kicked away to join it. Lips seek out one another in snatches of kisses after being forced to pull away. Layer after layer disappears between you, joining the clothes and shoes piling up several feet away on the floor.

When lips meet once more, it's bare skin you feel against your own, warm and alive. The feeling of his heart beating so close to yours...you card your fingers through his hair and giving a little tug. The sound it draws from him is absolutely sinful. An experience you never thought you'd get to have again--this intimacy with another person you cared for--has you gasping against his mouth, overwhelmed with delight at the purest form of living possible.

Daryl's hands lift you by your legs and you get the sudden sensation of falling. But rather than hitting painfully back against something hard, the hunter's strength eases you down onto the dozen or so layers of blankets he'd created a makeshift bed from. This new position has him hovering over you in the dark on his hands and knees. You can barely see him, only the faint impression of how close he is and the gentle sound of his breathing.

The scrape of his facial hair is prickly, his chapped lips rough and hot against the skin of your neck when his head descends down, contrasting the way his hands caress your fully-exposed chest. If there was such a way to be gentle and greedy at the same time, you think he's achieved it. The dichotomy is electrifying.

His thumbs tease your nipples with reckless swipes, fingers squeezing both breasts in soft admiration, testing the way they felt in his hands. One leg hikes itself around his knee, pulling him against your core to feel some semblance of friction. He rewards your boldness with a slow, rough grind downwards. It's a mix of pain and pleasure as the denim slides against your uncovered cunt.

He roams and explores all there is to you. It's equal parts unforgiving and tender in the way he tastes your skin, drags his teeth along for pain and then licking the spot to alleviate it. Your toes practically curl in pleasure, accompanied by a muffled groan when it proves too much to keep completely silent.

Impatience overcomes you. Hands scrabble for where you believe his belt is, fingers clawing and trailing along it to find where the clasp came off, but the lack of light isn't helping. It's caught or stuck, and no amount of wrestling with it seems to make it better.

Whatever noise of frustration you make gets his attention, because he's pushing away from your neck and kneeling back, helping you make quick work of his pants. But the sudden distance feels too much, and you sit up again to ravish his chest with open-mouthed kisses of your own. You anticipate the salty taste of sweat and dirt, but the feeling of his shuddering breath against the crown of your head makes it all worth it. A few particularly rough sucks earns you a guttural grunt.

The metallic and leather sounds as he struggles to get his belt out through the loops sounds so loud in your ears. He curses quietly between his own panting breaths when it doesn't come away as easily as he'd thought it would.

But then it blessedly comes free with a slither, and the zipper opens with no trouble after a quick yank down. A bit of shifting and shimmying is required to completely kick off his pants and boxers underneath. His member springs free of the confines of his undergarments, and before he has a chance to take the reins once more, you grin and push him down onto the bedroom by his shoulders, moving to straddle his legs. Not one to sit idly by, he lifts up by his elbows.

"Hold on, I was gonna...f-fuck." Whatever it was Daryl had been intending to do is lost in his throat as your head leans down to take him between your lips. The heat and wetness of the inside of your mouth has his thighs tensing beneath your ass, and his head drops back down to the blankets with a dull thud.

With tongue and the sides of your mouth doing most of the work, he's reduced to a panting, cursing, squirming puddle beneath you with each bob of your head. Just when you think that he's so much more responsive than you'd imagined, the realization that you hadn't had sex in an equally long time makes you moan around his cock.

His hand digs into your hair and forcefully pulls you off of him. His nearly-pained expression has you fearful that you've done something wrong, but he stutters out an explanation. "Shit, woman, you keep that up and this is gonna be over 'fore it starts..."

All you can manage is a pleased yet mischievous smile in return. Daryl sees it and gives a scoff, taking ahold of your upper arms and dragging you down in a roll beneath him. With your temporary moment of power gone, he pins you with a heated stare as his fingers travel down the contours of your body.

"Best keep quiet..." He gruffs out, unwaveringly watching your expression as his hands found their destination. Your eyes have adjusted enough to make out the lust swimming through his own. "Don't want to wake 'em up, do you?"

The rough pads of his fingers spread you open and slip inside with ease, two wide already providing a stretch you weren't anticipating. It's all you can do to bite your lip and muffle the whine at the welcome and sudden intrusion. Daryl mutters something you don't quite catch. Part of you thinks to ask, but the other is too far gone in desire to care.

His digits search and stroke with lazy purpose. Without thinking about it, your legs spread wider, giving him better access to your heat. Under his ministrations, it's difficult not to thrust up against his hand to have them go deeper. He's doing a marvelous job already and you don't want him to stop. Hell, you'd cry if he did now.

Your fingers dig into the blankets beneath you, holding onto something lest you slip away entirely when he focuses on the hood of your clit. The nerves there snap electrically and another keening moan slips past you, a soft whisper of his name at the end.

Maybe the sound of his name on your lips does something to him, because Daryl hones in on your clit without mercy, pressing harder and stroking faster. The sudden speed and additional of a third finger snatches your breath away, leaving you gasping and squeezing your eyes shut as you propelled towards that edge. You're on a one-way ticket to orgasm and he's got no intention of slowing down.

You dare open your eyes and see the way he's staring down at your expression with such intensity, such need and want and curiosity. He wants to watch you fall apart, see the way your face shifts as the pleasure hits, and that fact alone is devastating to the already precarious restraint you're holding onto. You thought you'd be able to prolong this out a bit more, but no. Daryl's overwhelming in the best way possible.

When the tingling and rising in your core proves too great, yours eyes flutter and your muscles quiver around his fingers. You shudder, feeling the wetness of your arousal soak his hand and the blankets beneath your cunt. It comes in waves, helped along by Daryl's continues stroking, until the overstimulation sets in and has you convulse against his touch.

Sensing this, he pulls his fingers away and trails them up your body with reverence. You wish your mind was in a better space to really appreciate the gesture, but all it could do was focus on getting your breath back.

Still in a haze, you eventually manage a semi-understandable sentence. "S-sorry, your blankets...I, uh-"

"Don't care." Your thighs squeeze against his waist at the lust dripping from each word. Up his fingers trail, leaving the wetness from your cunt to cool against the skin, past your breasts and further north to your neck. They hold your jaw in place so he can plant a rough kiss to your lips.

The momentary respite is exactly what you need to recover enough to take him next. The pain that had sparked was already beginning to dull from lack of attention, and after a minute or two of the heated kiss, you pull away from rest your forehead against his.

Your breaths mingle in the space between. You think, even in the darkness, that his pupils are blown wide and taking in the sight of you undone beneath him. Biting your lip, one hand takes his cock and lavishes it with languorous pumps. His eyes close against the pleasure, forehead pressing just a little harder into your own.

"Please, Daryl." Is all you breathe, hoping he too was tired of all of the foreplay. Your heart was too full to take much more, and your cunt throbbed at the thought of finally having him completely.

His head nods against yours. And then, he tenses and swears raggedly. Guessing his concern, you smile and press a hard, fast kiss to his lips. "Don't need one."

"You sure?"

"My IUD's supposed to last 10 years. Didn't have an apocalypse warranty, though..." You say, and Daryl lets out his breath in a rush at your stupid joke. Relief makes him go in for another kiss, then another, each more feral than the last. Your arms wrap around his back, pulling him in closer until your chests are pressed together. The rapid beat of one another's hearts is prominent and reassuring.

His hardened cock brushes against your wet slit, prompting you to press back, seeking more. Another grind of his hips drags a low whine out. You're panting, needy and impatient. You're close to begging until you feel him press to your entrance. Leaning down onto his elbows, he pushes into you slowly.

It's tight and uncomfortable at first as you get used to his size. The first orgasm certainly helped, allowing him to sheath himself with little resistance. You try not to tense at the intrusion but it's a difficult instinct to resist. Daryl breathes steadily through his nose, eyes closed, until he's fully seated inside of you.

He groans out your name, doing everything in his power not to move his hips yet. He wants to, but it's been so long for either of you and he doesn't want this to go wrong. This one night of giving in to desires might be the last and only.

He resorts to a slow, shallow rut. Enough to stretch the muscles but without causing pain. And within a dozen of these motions you're much more accustomed to having him filling you so completely. Your legs come up to wrap around his waist, arms settling on his shoulders for support, and Daryl takes that as his permission to move.

Pulling out and thrusting back in with a snap, he grunts in satisfaction. And after that first testing thrust, he's picked a steady rhythm and sends you down a path of no return. With a momentary adjustment of his knees he picks up his pace, caught up in the way you feel around him.

Each rough piston of his hips has you grasping at his shoulders and back in desperation. Another time, you might ponder the strange textures along his skin, but for now it's all you can do not to cry out your pleasure at the way he fucks you like he'd never get the chance again. You nearly draw blood with how hard your teeth bite down into your lip.

But all that is forgotten when he suddenly grabs one of your legs and holds it down to the blankets with unrelenting strength, opening you up more and hitting that angle inside just right. His cock brushes along your clit in a move that has you arching your back upwards, a shocked yelp ripping itself from your lips. Loud and sharp, you snap your eyes open wide at the possibility of having woken up the others.

But rather than stop to keep you quiet, Daryl's hand firmly plants itself against your mouth and he continues in the same place over and over without respite. The chorus of helpless, debauched moans that you produce in response to the pinpoint thrusts are trapped beneath his hand, muffled enough that you weren't at risk of another loud outburst. A string of curses leaves his own mouth through his laborious panting.

Your body sings with pleasure, squirming and clawing and arching in place beneath him as much as you can against the onslaught of feeling. It's almost too much, but you welcome it eagerly. The vestiges of your first orgasm linger, allowing the second to come crashing down without warning and much faster than you had anticipated.

Daryl's pace stutters as your muscles contract around him, lending further friction as he thrusts you through the sensational high. Black spots prickle your already dim vision, but you can still see just enough of his face in the blackness to see that he's trying to hold back still, trying to prolong this moment for the both of you.

But as the ear-ringing starts to fade, you reach up and press his head back down to your own, catching his lips in a kiss, trying to tell him to let go without words since you don't trust your own voice at the moment.

Maybe it's the sweetness of the gesture that finally does him in, but with a dozen more frantic, rough snaps of his hips, he moans against your mouth and stills inside of you, muscles tense and shaking with exertion. His hips flex a few more times, pressing in deeper, filling you.

Neither of you move, spent and needing a moment to catch your breaths. Your hands trace absentminded paths along the back of his neck, and his hot breath fans along your collarbone. As the afterglow resides, that same stillness from before settles over you both. This time, however, it doesn't feel nearly as oppressive and daunting.

Daryl peels himself away from you slowly, and when he slips out from inside, there's an empty feeling left behind. He reaches over to grab at the shirt he'd been wearing and uses it to clean himself up. Then, crawling back over to you, he does the same to you.

No words are shared, any that come to mind feel out of place, but each little action speaks loud and clear. He's thoughtful enough to retrieve your clothes from the other side of the room, electing only to dress back in his boxers and nothing more. You decide your shirt and panties is enough, and make no move for the door. He's not kicking you out, from what you can tell, so you assume an invitation to stay is on the table.

You settle in beside him, tired and yet fighting with everything you had to stay awake a little longer. Daryl's dark eyes regard you a few inches away. Could he tell what you were trying to do? Did he know that you were trying to commit this moment to memory? To burn it so deeply into your mind that you'd recall it even in death?

Perhaps he does. Because with a gentle caress of your cheek with his thumb, he's silently coaxing you to close your eyes. You don't know how, exactly, but the effort of keeping them open just proves too great to resist any longer. He speaks your name in a whisper, telling you to sleep.

The promise of morning is terrifying, but in the silence of here and now, you can almost convince yourself everything will work out like it should.

#daryl Dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd #scenario #fanfic #sinful #fem reader #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #daryl Dixon smut

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negandarylsatisfaction · 4 years ago

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[SUMMARY: Rick's daughter Melody cant help her curiosity about the man locked up in the prison cell. Being kept secrets from her father, she takes it upon herself to get to know Negan and one day sneaks into the cell to find him asleep with morning wood.]

SEMI SMUT

Negan and Melody

Rick never really allowed you anywhere near Negan. Hell, you never even saw Negan yourself up close and personal. Although you were twenty, your father still treated you like the little five year old girl he used to carry on his shoulders. It was frustrating at times, he always wanted to keep secrets from you about what was going on in the group and he always said it was to protect you. The only times you ever saw Negan he was tied up being led into the prison cell. Truth was, you didnt know what he had done that was so bad. Your father seemed to keep everything from you that involved anything serious. You looked out the window and saw Daryl pass Eugene the keys for cell, each night someone was on guard. Looking to the right you saw your dad heading your way and quickly pulled down the blinds. After you were told Glenn had died in an accident on a run a few months ago many things changed. Maggie left, everyone seemed more distant and it left you confused.

"Get ready for bed, Melody," your dad spoke low as he entered the house making you sigh.

"I'm not tired dad."

"Mel, it's getting late-"

"And is there something we need to be ready for in the morning?" You responded with sarcasm looking back out the window.

"Besides...you never told me what that guy Negan did."

"I told you that's not up for discussion," he insisted making you roll your eyes.

"Is anything up for discussion? Whatever, I'm sure what he did wasnt that bad if hes being kept alive." You got up from the chair and walked past your father as he looked down with a straight face. There was no way he could tell you the truth of what Negan had done. Your father tried to protect you the best he could and losing people was enough, he didnt want to leave you with images in your head.

Waiting to be sure that your father was in his room you quietly snuck out of yours. Your curiosity ate at you and you were tired of your father treating you like a little girl. Making sure you werent heard, you stepped outside and walked towards where Negan was held captive. Eugene was heading back to the cell with a tray of food for Negan. You knew itd be easy to get around Eugene regardless of what your father instilled in his mind. Creating casual conversation with Eugene and some jokes to break the ice you offered to take Negan his lunch. Right away he made a face filled with doubt.

"I dont know about that, Melody..I'm in charge of his cell-"

"Yeah but you're in charge of the entrance. Who's going to watch while you are distracted handing him the food?" Eugene raised an eyebrow in thought, he felt like you had a point.

"Alright but your dad cant know about this, he'll kill me. So dont take too long."

"Dont worry I got it," you assured him before taking hold of the tray of food and the keys from his hand.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, you were nervous yet so curious to know the man that was hidden from you. Unlocking the door you walked down a dark hallway before reaching the cell.

"Well its about time one of you fuckers remembered to feed me," you froze at the sound of Negans voice before stepping out of the dark hall and into the light, revealing yourself. Negan looked up as he leaned against the wall not expecting to see a young attractive woman before him.

"Well excuse my French, where the fuck did your pretty little self come from?" Negan looked you up and down observing your skin tight jeans and crop shirt. Right from the jump you found this man to be very intimidating, taking a deep breath you stepped closer to his cell and bit your bottom lip nervously.

"Um...my name is Melody.. I came to bring you your meal," Negan slowly stepped closer to the bars with a smirk on his face and looked down at the tray in your hands.

"I see that...so you're gonna put that down for me, sweetheart?" He spoke slowly with an enticing voice.

"Oh..um, yes" you smiled before slowly bending down not noticing Negan tilt his head eyeing the curve of your ass as you slid the tray beneath the bars.

"Very nice.." he murmured low to himself before you got back up. Your eyes met his and you suddenly didnt move, his eyes were alluring and inviting all at once. Nervously clearing your throat you backed away brushing your hair back.

"I gotta ask, princess. What's a fine young woman like you doing alone with me here in my prison cell?"

"I wanted to see who you were...I'm not allowed to know things so-"

"So you're telling me no one knows you're here?" He raised a brow getting closer, although this man was behind the bars you still found yourself feeling nervous.

"No...everyone treats me like a little girl. I'm twenty years old and I'm tired of people covering up things for me," you explained.

"Shit, you are very young."

"Not too young where I cant be told what the hell you did to be in here, cant be all that bad if you're still alive."

Negan raised his brows sliding his tongue behind his lower lip.

"Oh no sweetheart, I'm no good." He spoke in a low voice.

"So let me guess, you're going to treat me like a little girl too and not tell me why?" Negan couldnt help himself but chuckle making you cross your arms.

"What's so funny?"

"Ohh...princess, if I was out of this cell right now I'd gladly show you how much of a grown woman I think you are."

"What?" You asked a little shocked not expecting him to express himself the way he did. You were quickly learning Negan had an unfiltered mouth.

"Dont mind me," Negan shook his head with a sigh.

"Its been a while and I'm just fucking frustrated."

"Its been a while since what?" You asked making him slightly lean back with a frown on his face.

"You really are innocent huh," you rolled your eyes.

"Listen, if you're going to say it just say it-"

"Its been a while since I've had some pussy." Negan blurt out making you stumble over your words.

"Oh-um...-" Negan grinned raising his brows at your reaction.

"Oh yes," he laughed as you nervously licked your lips.

"Shit..." he suddenly turned serious.

"How long has it been for you? Or wait let me guess, you haven't even had your cherry popped yet." Negan moved closer to the bars to get a closer look at you.

"Actually, I'm not a virgin but it's been a few years since I lost my virginity to this jackass. I havent slept with someone since."

"So you've gone a few years with out any relief?"

"Well um-obviously I've had relief-"

"Oh..so you like touching yourself," he bit his bottom lip in excitement.

"-But yes, it's been years since I've had sex and I'm okay with it, I dont need it." You couldnt believe you were even explaining this to him.

"Hm. Looks like whoever was hitting it wasnt hitting it right, shit I'd always have you coming back for more." You rolled your eyes holding back a smile, you kind of liked the attention he was giving you.

"Are you always this vulgar, Negan?"

"Only when I'm horny," he teased making you shake your head.

"Shit, do you blame me princess? You're the first woman that's spoken to me like I wasnt a damn monster. Plus I love some dirty talk." Negan had to admit the company was refreshing for him. You sighed with a smile and looked down at his food.

"Well, I guess I'll leave you to your food. I'll come by when I can again...if you want me to." Negan smiled sliding his tongue between his teeth.

"Oh I definitely do." You couldnt believe this man was flirting with you but you had to admit to yourself it was a fun interaction.

"Your secrets safe with me, Melody." Negan winked before you quietly left and locked the door shut.

That night you lay in bed smiling to yourself thinking of your very flirtatious talk with Negan. Your dad hadn't suspected a thing and you knew the next morning he would go on a run. It would be a perfect time to see Negan again. You were the first person in a long time to not make him feel like a monster and he was the first person who made you feel like a grown woman. Distracted by his flirtatious ways you didnt focus on the reason of him being held in a cell and Negan had no idea you were Rick Grimes only daughter.

The next morning just as suspected your father left on a run with Daryl and Michonne. The person on guard today was one of the men that you knew wasnt the biggest fan of your father. Of course you were to use this to your greatest advantage. Setting up a tray of breakfast with extra fruit you had grown in your garden you made your way to Negan. Unlocking the door, excitedly you walked down the hall to find Negan asleep with his back facing you as you set down his tray of food.

"Good morning, Negan." You spoke softly making him open his eyes. He groaned with a stretch and turned flat to his back making you gasp.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Negan looked at you confused before noticing exactly where your eyes were. The imprint of Negans very hard cock was practically bulging out of his pants.

"Ah shit-"he muttered to himself adjusting his pants.

"Sorry, sweetheart must've been having a nice little dream." He chuckled as he noticed you wouldnt stop staring at it.

"What, never seen some morning wood before?" He teased as he stood up.

"I mean, of course I just didnt expect to see you..I mean for you to be that way right now." You responded nervously as he made his way close to the bars of the cell.

"Right now?" He laughed.

"Oh princess, you have no idea how horny I am. How much I'd kill for the feel of sweet pussy...shit for a woman to just relieve me." The two of you were face to face now, only the bars separating you from each other.

"You know what I was dreaming about, princess?" Negan spoke as he noticed you would not stop looking down at his crotch area.

"I dreamt about you riding my cock." His voice was raspy, his words making you look up in shock.

"What?" You whispered.

"You left me last night thinking about things I wanted to do to you and this is the outcome." He motioned towards his erection.

"Why dont you touch it for me...just once." He spoke low, your lips parted at his request. Your heart was racing, it was arousing how much this man wanted you. Looking back at the door behind you making sure it was locked you looked back at Negan and nodded.

"Just once." You agreed making him grin.

"Atta girl."

Negan watched as you hesitatingly moved your hand in between the bars and began to slowly rub his crotch. A deep noise escaped his lips the first moment you touched him, his breathing was heavy as you moved your hand up and down.

"Oh my...-" you whispered feeling how rock solid he was.

"Oh, Melody.." he whispered as he closed his eyes. You could tell he obviously wanted more, you could tell how much he needed it. Without saying a word you began to unzip his pants and instantly his cock sprung out. It was thick and hot, you could feel him throbbing in your hand. The man was aching for some kind of relief, he was about ready to explode.

Spitting on your hand you began to move along his shaft. Negan moaned holding onto the bars as he watched you jerk him off. He could tell you were getting turned on as you began to breathe quickly. Negan reached through the bars and grabbed your throat applying pressure making you moan as you began to move your hand faster.

"Fuck baby, I dont think I can hold it-" he held his breath and grunted struggling to not let himself cum just yet.

"Hold on just a little bit more, I want you to cum hard." You whispered as he frowned holding on to the bar tightly, his knuckles turning white. It had been too long since he had been touched, too long since he had ejaculated and Negan had an intense rush. His other hand quickly sliding down your neck and pulling your v neck shirt down revealing your breast.

"Touch me, Negan. Do what you want." You whispered as your hand moved faster. Your words making his jaw clench as he squeezed your breast and let out a very loud and deep groan, loads of cum spilled out of him falling to ground.

"Yes.." you whispered loving the sight of him giving in.

"Dont stop-" he struggled to speak as he continued to cum all over your hand. He panted as you began to slow down before he let go of your breast and leaned against the bars. Releasing his cock from your hand you stepped back and looked at him from head to toe. His eyes were closed as he leaned his head on the bars, his cock twitching as you noticed all his cum on the concrete floor.

"Wow.." you whispered making him open his eyes. Grabbing a rag you had on you, you cleaned up your hand then handed it to him before he closed his pants. Negan cleared his throat before looking back up at you with a smirk.

"I guess I owe you one," he chuckled still trying to catch his breath making you laugh as you fixed your top.

"Glad I could be of help," you joked before the two of you locked eyes. The smiling fading from his face now.

"Seriously, it's been nice having you here."

Negan liked the sexual connection the two of you had, he also liked how you naturally conversed with him. You didnt treat him like an animal, you treated him like a human being. Negan knew he had messed up in life but he knew there was nothing he could do to change the past. All he could do was not repeat the same mistakes. What he did know was that he now knew for sure that he did not want you knowing his real reason behind being locked inside. He knew youd never look at him the same way again.

"Its been nice for me too. I havent really had conversation with anyone in my group." You sighed crossing your arms.

"After my friend Glenn died things changed." You whispered making Negans face change at the mention of Glenn's name. He looked away feeling a knot of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

"Everyone started acting different. I miss the way things were." You continued as you looked to the side and thought back of some memories.

"I think you should get going, Princess." Negan spoke low, his words making you look back at him confused.

"Wh-what? I thought we could talk-"

"Listen, I'm not your fucking therapist. Now get going." Negan snapped just wanting you to leave, his guilt eating up at him he felt like utter shit.

"So what jerking you off is all you needed so I'm good to go now?"

Negan remained silent, his head down not being able to look you in the eye.

"You know I know we dont know each other and you dont give a shit about me, but I thought we had an understanding that we both needed someone to talk to and not talk to them like something they're not." You snapped as he carefully listened to your words.

"That's the problem, sweetheart. They're not treating me like something I'm not. You are." His words left you speechless, what the hell did he mean by that?

"I told you I was no fucking good. Now get out of here." Negan turned his back to you, you couldnt believe what he was saying or what the hell even made him say these things.

"Screw you." Negan heard the crack in your voice before you stormed out and slammed the door shut. Negan sighed knowing he didnt want to hurt your feelings, hell he didnt even want you to leave. Angrily you walked back to your room and slammed the door shut, you felt so stupid you could scream. You swore you'd never see Negan again nor let your father ever find out of what had just happened.

Part 2? Trying to think of where I can go from here. Feel free to send in any ideas if you have. Xx

#jeffrey dean morgan #the walking dead negan #negan x you #negan fan fiction #negan twd #negan x ofc #negan x reader #rick grimes #the walking dead fic

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sunshinefic · 3 years ago

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You've Got Sunshine

Chapter 3 - They Ain't People

Maggie and (y/n) watched from the porch. Glenn had informed them earlier that he couldn't keep their secret anymore, said he wasn't any good at lying. (y/n) wished Hershell had sent them away as soon as the boy was better, this couldn't end well.

Rick's group were discussing what to do with the barn, (y/n) stood back, just close enough to listen to them.

"We can't go" rick said

"Why?"

"Because my daughters still out there." Carol said, they had been searching for days and nothing. It was hard to say it but most people didn't think we would ever find her.

'"OK" Shane sighed holding his face in his hands, clearly frustrated. "Ok I think it's time that we all start to just conisder the other possibly."

"Shane, we're not leaving sophia behind" rick insisted

"I'm close to finding this girl" Daryl said "I just found her damn doll two days ago!"

"You found her doll daryl that's what you did, you found a doll."

"You don't know the hell you're talking about!" daryl snapped.

"Look I'm just saying what needs to be said here now you get a good lead in the first 48 hours. Let me tell you soemthing else men, if she was alive and saw you coming all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction, man!" All hell broke loose at that. Daryl and Shane started going at it and (y/n) ran up to the group to help them separate the pair, the others had pushed daryl away, and when he want to approach Shane again she grabbed his arm to pull him back, he looked and her, clearly pissed at this gesture, but retreated regardless.

"Il talk to Hershell, OK?" Rick said

"Hershell sees those walkers in there as people," Dale said, he looked over at (y/n) sympathetically "His wife, his step son." (y/n) stepped into the middle of the group.

"Hershell isn't gonna give in on this." She looked around, glances at every face in the group. "I'm sorry but you'll just have to leave."

The group split after that, going odd in different directions, chores to do and a missing child to find. (y/n) felt a hand on her arm, she looked at, it was daryl. He was watching her closely, like she was unstable.

"Those things in barn." He started, instantly infuriating her.

"My family?" She snapped, ripping her arm away from him. He nodded slowly, and shot her an apologetic look.

"Ya family ain't in there kid." He said, rubbing the back of his neck, he was expecting some sort of melt down, and daryl Dixon wasn't great at the whole comfort thing. "They ain't people." She looked up at him again, he towered over her, but this time he was less intimidating, seemed like he was trying to help, dispite his corrupt view of this new sickness. (y/n) knew he didn't mean to offend, what that didn't stop the anger that boiled within her. "Look ya tried t'warn me 'bout that damn horse, am just tryin' t-'

"Fuck you man." she said, attempting to storm off but he grabbed her by her arm. She was momentarily paralysed, this didn't usually end well, but before she could react he started speaking again.

"You ain't been out there." He said, loosening his grip. "These things are dargerous, they'll rip you an' yer family apart if ya let em." He looked down at her fearful expression. "Don't wanna see ya eaten kid". He let go of her now.

"Well I appreciate that daryl, but I'm not killing my family, you'll just have to leave, this isn't your problem," She told him, no anger this time, just disappointed at his words, his view on all of this, it was almost intolerable. She walked away back the house, needing to just lie down and forget about what he just to her. Didn't he have a family? How could he just expect her to kill hers?

"They're already dead." Daryl called to her.

#Daryl #Daryl dixon #Daryl x you #Daryl x oc #Daryl x reader #Daryl Dixon x you #Daryl Dixon x oc #Daryl Dixon x reader #Twd #The walking dead #Daryl Dixon fanfiction #Daryl Dixon fluff #Daryl fluff #Daryl angst

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hcrgrove · 2 years ago

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VERSES.

MAIN VERSE:

written in carrd.

THE LAMB WAS SACRIFICED:

tws: suicide attempt, drugs, alcohol, death. mentions: @hellfire010, @sentinel007, @sugarfm

robbie died in the upside down, saving eddie who had decided to try and be the fucking hero. eddie brought his body back, at first he wouldn’t let anyone anywhere near the body of his twin, but finally he saw that all mikey wanted to do was say goodbye. he didn’t get to propose to his boyfriend before his death, but they had talked about it in the past; robbie had always said that if mikey asked he would say yes, so he put the ring he got the other on his finger and held him, crying and begging for him to come back.

after robbie’s death, he went off the rails, very similar to how he did when he thought billy was dead. mikey started drinking more and more, and getting into harder drugs again. his dealer used to be robbie, getting what he wanted from his boyfriend but after robbie’s death he starts going to reefer rick. he turns up drunk all the time, spending his savings on drugs instead of what they were intended for - his future with his boyfriend.

mikey had landed himself in the hospital a lot because of his excessive use of alcohol and drugs, and he attempted suicide around two months after robbie’s funeral. when he was finally discharged, he had text jason and realised that he too was in the hospital. he went to visit the other, knowing how much the other male had loved robbie too; he felt like jason was the only one who could truly understand his pain, though he didn’t expect to be the one that had to be the one to break the news of his death. that day, he spent the night at the hospital, wrapped in jason’s arms as slept for the full night for the first time since robbie died. as of yet, he hasn’t told jason about the attempt; he’s too ashamed to, plus whilst he knows that god and jason aren’t on speaking terms at this particular moment, he still also knows christianity’s view on suicide and he can’t deal with that being added on, he just can’t.

he doesn’t tell billy anything, and he can barely look at eddie. they both probably know he’s struggling, it’s obvious enough and there’s only so much you can hide when you share a room with your twin but he managed to hide the suicide attempt. . . until a bill from the hospital came through when mikey wasn’t home and billy opened it. it didn’t take a genius to deduce what the costs were for.

mikey is just trying to fucking survive, and even though it’s soon, perhaps far too soon, after robbie’s death he realises that only jason understands anything he’s going through. him and jason didn’t end like robbie and jason did, it wasn’t bad and it didn’t leave hate in his heart; it just left concern and that love never truly left and regardless of what had happened it never would have done; you don’t stop holding a place in your heart for someone like that. they’re there for each other, helping to build one another back up after the events that happened in hawkins, but it’s a secret. mikey can already hear billy’s reaction, never mind eddie’s. he, and especially jason, are in no fit state to deal with that. it wasn’t planned, it wasn’t to say fuck you to robbie or to make him seem replaceable they just. . . found one another again when they needed each other the most.

POLY.

mentioned: @sentinel007 @sugarfm

jason and robbie were in a relationship when the hargrove/mayfields arrived in hawkins. upon seeing mikey, the two instantly knew that they wanted to include him. luckily for them, the three of them hit it off right away and pretty soon, they were officially a throuple. because of this, it meant that when billy died he had not only one, but two people that were there for him, to help him cope and deal with it in healthy ways. this means that, unlike in his main verse, he never slept around with random people and never contracted hiv.

the three of them make it work, and they are happily in a polyamorous throuple.

WHO IS MIKEY HARGROVE?

mentioned: @sugarfm @hargrxve @hellfire010 @sentinel007

jason and mikey broke up when his father took him away for behavioural therapy. well, they didn’t exactly make shit official but when your secret boyfriend gets dragged away by his father it usually means there’s no more relationship. he’s heartbroken after this, and lashes out at anyone that tries to get close to him. because of this, he never allowed himself to get close to robbie, and he thinks his brother is a fucking idiot for hanging out with eddie so god damn much. it’s gonna bring nothing but trouble, and he wants nothing to do with any of it.

he’s single, and trying to figure out who the fuck he is now that his brother doesn’t need him as much anymore. the scariest part? he has no fucking clue. less time being needed to be the big brother, and no boyfriend? that’s never happened before. and mikey hasn’t the slightest idea of who he is without all of that.

#verses #this will go on the carrd eventually but i wanna change the carrd so i'm putting it in a post instead #long post cw

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shimmershae · 3 years ago

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So. Thanks to my new anonymous friend, this is going to become a thing.

Shae’s thinky thoughts about the latest episode--Acheron: Part 2--beneath a cut.

Because spoilers, however vague they might be.

Let’s be real here. This is more a stream of consciousness than anything else so if that’s not your thing, you are most welcome to nope right on out of this post. Trust me. I’ll completely understand, lol. Sometimes? I wish I could nope right on out of my own brain and the way it operates.

That said? Without further ado--

Episode 2′s opening, though. Maggie trapped with hungry Walkers converging? It totally gives me Glenn under the dumpster vibes. I don’t know if that was intentional or just happy coincidence but way to link Maggie to her dearly departed better half, show.

Is it just me or has Father G had more OOMPH to him these last few seasons? Again, I have to ask--Rosita’s influence or no? Regardless, I bet Seth Gilliam is loving the job these days.

Side note: am I gonna have to go to bed early every Saturday night from now until the end just so I that I might be able to SEE? Something? Anything? My curtains are flimsy-ass. I admit it. But this is more frustrating than TXF. Angela, WTF?

No, seriously. It’s like complete guess work who’s in these subway scenes. Some of that has to do with them being overly populated by redshirts and the rest of it has to do with me having to squint and turn sideways to make out their facial features.

Look at Daryl busting through concrete walls! Should I call him the Kool-Aid Man considering NR has once again allowed himself to be led right into a biased, shipper trap? Hmm. I might.

Imagine seeking refuge in those dark, filthy subways. Any second now I expect to hear the skittering of rats. Will Dog lose his effing mind a la Divergence? He’s been shown to go off half-cocked that way, lol. Oh well. Guess it’ll be in character if he does.

Impressive graffiti storyboards. Does it mean something that it immediately cuts to the Commonwealth storm troopers afterward? Maybe. Who really knows at this point? They been trying to gaslight us forever.

LOL at Princess yet again. Yumiko is just like da fuq is this person?

No, really. LMAO. “That was her. From last night. Did you see how she was looking at us?”

Then you have Eugene, hahaha. “Oh God. Why did he tell off the big guy?” Like the man is totally me in this type of situation. Not even gonna lie.

“That’s right. We want to talk to the manager.”

I literally cannot wait ‘til Carol and Daryl meet Princess. Can. Not. Wait.

How sad is that note on that $100 bill? Small moment but it totally gives me Season 4 vibes when they were on their way to Terminus seeking sanctuary.

Hmm. Remember how that place wasn’t what they thought it was? I’m sure neither is the Commonwealth. But I feel like what’s left of Team Family is totally going to do Rick proud, lol, and prove they’re messing with the wrong people if they try something.

Daryl, Man. You gonna have to get a better handle on your headstrong Fur Son. I wonder if Dog would listen better to his mama? Things to ponder.

Sounds like Miko has this group’s number. Or does she?

Princess and Eugene totally look like they’re waiting their turn for the Principal’s office, LOL.

“Stop moving! You’re taking my nerves over the edge to a proverbial 11 on a scale of 10.” I feel you, Eugene. I do. Also you, Princess. Two of the most relatable TWD characters right there, I’m telling you.

Princess is me when I really, really, really have to pee. TMI? Sorry, lovelies. LOL. I just...she’s so relatable.

LMAO. “If that fine ass dude in the orange suit...” Princess and Mercer incoming in 3-2-----

Princess’s excitement over the toilet paper=PRICELESS.

Eugene, Man. You desperately need to develop a poker face.

There’s Daryl getting another cool camera shot. Angela? You playing favorites again?

Carol’s claustrophobia could have never. I bet that’s in the back of Pookie’s mind. You can’t tell me it’s not because Carol lives in there rent-free.

Ohhh. Back to the subway car. Looks like we got the Maggie redshirts leading the way. First sacrificial “lambs”?

Maggie pistol-whipping Negan was kinda deserved, but he wasn’t all wrong so.

Damn. I’m no Gage fan. He can fuck all the way off for what he did to my baby Lydia. But Maggie over there with ice in her veins.

Yep. I think the dude just got one of the most gruesome deaths in a while. Yuck.

I think Alden’s faith in Maggie definitely took several hits. I feel like he kind of had her on some sort of pedestal dating back to Hilltop times. Father G, though? The man is continuing to show himself a SAVAGE MFer.

Josh gives Eugene such believable tics and mannerisms. He IS Eugene.

Thank you, Maggie, for lighting that flare. I could not see a damn thing.

What are these bad memories Negan alludes to? Hmm? Him being a shit husband to Lucille back when he was still taking her for granted?

Father G on Gage’s Walker--”All that is, is a shell of a man, who died a coward.” Kind of ironic considering Father G’s own origins, huh? Has he any warmth in there for anybody but Rosita and Coco? Does he equate it with weakness?

“There are worse ways.” And Maggie proceeds to paint us a horror story with mere words.

Dark Maggie really surpasses anything certain fans have ever accused Carol of being. Is she too far gone? Who the hell knows? I think it’s clear that she and Carol are both on a sliding scale of sorts when it comes to being able to compartmentalize shit to survive. Personally? I feel like Maggie might have leap-frogged Carol in this episode but it matters none because of the double standards so deeply entrenched in this fandom. Both women have endured and had to do some horrific things. It’s not a contest. But it’s probably going to be turned into a season-long one.

It’s almost like Kang was like, “Ya’ll bitches think Carol’s dark? I’ll show you DARK. Check and mate.”

Whatever the reasoning, Maggie just got exponentially more interesting to me if not likable. And before anybody out there comes at me, it’s entirely possible to be on a character’s side in some things and not be all up their ass in love with them, lol. Like I’m attached to her because she’s family and Glenn loved her. There’s a loyalty there and she absolutely is justified in her hatred of Negan. But I’m not going to pretend her shit don’t stink like everybody else’s.

Speaking of my baby Glenn. What would he think of this version of Maggie? I think he would be gutted and heart stricken that events led to her being like this but he’d understand because he’s pure like that. Don’t mean he’d be A-OK with it all.

Dog must be protected at all costs.

Confession. I know not the fuck who Pony Boy is, but I know him because all my fandom friends have pointed him out to me, lol. RIP, Man. I think you’re number’s up or close to it.

Okay, though. I admit it. I am kinda LOVING Badass Father G.

That scene in the subway car with all of them working to take all the Walkers out was already badass. Then Daryl arrived and made it, in @freefromthecocoon’s words, HAWT. LOL.

Eugene staring at that little black book like it contains torture tools, hehehe.

“Processed? As in administratively? Processed as in bologna or other meat stuffs? This inquiring (enquiring?) mind needs to know.” OMG, Eugene. I admit it. Even if it makes me look like a lunatic, LOL. I straight up LMAO at that one. I mean, ten years later and Terminus still fresh on the man’s mind.

“You like feeling nervous?” Well, no. None of us that do, Mercer? Do.

Then he proceeds to make me howl with his “You can’t lie for shit” to Eugene.

Josh McDermitt? I love you, Man. 40 year old virgin, LOL.

All this talk over the seasons of Daryl’s virginity and we have Eugene, hahaha. But was he telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

Finally. Some daylight. Where I can see.

Eugene’s relief at seeing his friends safe and sound was such a beautiful thing to see. I loved those hugs.

Mercer’s face when he snarled “beat cop” in disdain to Ezekiel. I think I’m gonna love this dude.

“I went to West Point. Asshole.” Yeah. I am.

I know they probably catfishing Eugene right here because spoilers tell us that ain’t Stephanie. But my heart still did a little d’aww. Angela. Don’t play with his poor heart like that.

What’s got Daryl so pensive, huh? Is it that the note reminds him of kids being lost or taken from their family? Or separated from their family? Is he thinking of those Grimes babies and wondering if Michonne will ever make it back and why and how she was able to leave them behind? Tell me it ain’t that Find Me nonsense.

“This place sure has gone to shit since the last time I was here.” LMAO, JDM. I mean Negan. Sorry. Sorry. I still hate Negan, but JDM has me entertained at least since they gave the asshole some shades of gray. And speaking of shades of gray. I’m loving the gray beard. JDM’s looking GOOD (hear that NR? Embrace the gray). Negan can still kick rocks, lol.

Anyway. That scene was CREEPY AF. Not even gonna lie.

The Reapers strutting right on up to our group like it’s The Purge: ZA.

My bad, Pony Boy. Now RIP.

Dark, dark episode with loads of tension broken up by some welcome humor by Princess. The girl is fast becoming a fave of mine.

My baby’s back next week!!!

I’m just going to plug my ears and pretend they’re trying to capture/recapture the horses because they’re pets. Not because they’re starving so bad they feel the need to eat them. La la la la la. I can’t hear you.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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ly-canthropewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Trust and Security

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3460 words (I was aiming for 1000, but let’s just say - it got away from me)

Ratings/Warnings: SFW.

Summary: “Didn’t you hear the news? It’s safer to shower in pairs” @twdeadfanfic

It’s been over a month since the prison fell, and your group was weary. After one month of being out on the road, vulnerable and exhausted, your little family finds safety behind the tall walls of the Alexandria Safe Zone. Although, the walls do nothing to cease your skittishness.

The new folk behind the walls were kind and gracious, but at the same time, naive and inexperienced to what lays behind their safe haven and that worries you. It worries your group as well; everyone picking up on the credulous attitudes and their misty-eyed optimism and it just doesn’t sit right.

The first few days were difficult, a strange adjustment period. After being used to the wilderness and the danger it includes to now having a proper house to sleep in and call home, it felt, surreal. But after a few days, some of your people begin to relax and enjoy the safety of Alexandria.

You weren’t one of them, and neither was Daryl. The pair of you refused to believe in this wonderland, a shared acceptance in the belief that this place will fall just like the prison and just like any other ‘safe place’ that stood before. Perhaps you weren’t giving this place a chance? Perhaps it is easier to set yourself up for failure rather than have your hopes high? Regardless of the reasoning behind it, you just can’t get rid of the gnawing feeling of the false safety this place eludes.

Almost daily, Rick tries to convince you of Alexandria’s potential. He exemplifies the possibility of having a future here, a safe future for Carl and Judith to grow up in, a safe place where there isn’t fear about the dead or the dangers that stalk outside the walls. And almost daily, both you and Daryl turn him down, stubborn in your ways and between the false reality constructed and the abnormal kindness from the residents, you can’t help but feel unsafe.

You can’t lie, however, that Alexandria does have its perks. You have been here for 5 days already and you have not gone hungry once in that time. It is nice to have a healthy food supply, to have a blanket and a mattress that isn’t damaged or dirty and of course, it is nice to be clean. You have taken advantage of the running water system in the town, taking more showers in the last 5 days than you have in the month and it is a luxury that you allow yourself to indulge in.

The first time you had a shower you almost cried. Not one for the emotions normally, it couldn’t be helped that day when hot, running water cascading over you, temporarily washing away the trauma and pain of the apocalyptic world. For a moment, you could forget the ones you’ve lost, the agony and anguish every time you’ve had to take a life, the suffering and torture you’ve endured. For a moment, you could just be no-one.

- - -

Day six lingers, and the house is quiet. It had been decided yesterday that it’s possible to make Alexandria home and for that, houses were given to share. Rick, Carl, Judith and Michonne moved next door, never too far away from family but it gave them enough space to breathe. A large portion of the group, consisting of Abraham, Eugene, Sasha and Rosita, moved into another house on the same street. The remaining were quick to claim rooms; Maggie and Glenn taking a room as well as Carol stealing the spare. It left you and Daryl with a little bedroom on the ground floor and the lounge room. It didn’t matter, neither of you slept much nowadays and if you did, it was never at the same time. One always had to be on watch.

It was a silent arrangement, just like how your friendship blossomed. One day you were alone, despite being with the group, lingering to one side, keeping one eye on the wilderness around you as if you were ready to jump up and run into its clutches. But then one day, with no significant event as the catalyst, Daryl grew close, being drawn to your side every time a new camp was set up. Neither of you asked for the other to join, it just always happened. It became an unspoken rule that you were to always be partners. If you were to go hunting, so would Daryl. If you chose to set up your sleeping roll in the corner, Daryl would linger close. If you missed a meal, or gave your portion to someone else, then Daryl would give you some of his. It was unspoken, but it was law. You weren’t to be separated.

- - -

Summer had followed your group to Alexandria and the pair of you sat on the porch. Daryl was fiddling with his crossbow, nimble fingers twirling and unwinding certain pieces, tightening this and that, fixing up his bolts before giving the entire weapon a wipe down. He worked methodically, quietly, as if his actions were second nature to him. You shamelessly watched him periodically, fascinated by the sleek weapon and by the rugged man. He was your best friend, your partner and companion. You would die for him and he would die for you. It was simple. It was easy. And he was the single person that never failed to bring a smile to your lips.

Satisfied with your ogling, you return to your book. It wasn’t yours to begin with. It came with the furnished house and in a moment of boredom, you plucked it from its place with every intention to fill the small gap of monotony. What you hadn’t expected was to become engrossed with the novel, completely swept up in the mythical world it held.

“Yer almost finished that thing yet?”

Daryl breaks your train of thought, startling you back into the world of reality and you shrug.

“Got a few chapters to go,” you say, flicking ahead to see that you indeed have almost completed the fiction.

“You only started yesterday arvo’“ Daryl states, crooking an eyebrow in your direction, his hands continuing to work on the crossbow without a visual guide.

“What can I say, I’m a fast reader. You finished playing with that crossbow yet? You’ve been fiddling with that thing for the past 3 days now,” You are quick to shoot back at him, a smirk dancing across your lips in victory and Daryl scoffs, shaking his head in small amusement as he turns his gaze back to the item in his lap.

You finish your book just in time for Carol to leave the house, the older woman looking well dressed and holding a container of cookies. Both you and Daryl raise an eyebrow at her, silent questions being asked, and she pointedly ignores them.

“Have you even had a shower yet?” She asks sternly, giving the quiet man a stiff side glance that he shrugs off.

“I’ll hose you down when you sleep,” she threatens, “you are filthy Daryl, just take a goddamn shower”.

You stifle a giggle, biting down on your lip to hide your growing smile but you fail miserably, and a chuckle escapes you. Daryl hears it, glancing over at you with a bored expression but when he sees you smiling, he can’t fight back a little smirk of his own.

“You enjoy watching Carol take the piss out of me, ay?” he questions gruffly, and you laugh at that openly, throwing your head back to revel in the moment.

“Hell yeah I do. Who wouldn’t?” you tease, poking your tongue out when Daryl rolls his eyes.

With your book done, you throw it onto the table beside you and stand up, stretching out your arms as you unfold from your previous position. Your shoulders pop loudly as you rotate them and you groan with satisfaction, eyes closed as you continue to move your body. You miss how Daryl’s eyes selfishly gawk at the sliver of skin that is revealed as you stretch, your shirt just riding up to show the smoothness of your skin and he wonders how soft your body would be beneath his hands.

His eyes quickly snap back to his crossbow when he hears you hum, stretching complete and body limber.

“You off then?” he questions, not looking up at you as he speaks, fear that his eyes will reveal things he refuses to say.

“Yeah, might have a lie-down or somethin’“

“Gonna take one of yer ten million showers?” he teases you and a warm flutter erupts in his chest when his words make you laugh.

“Showers aren’t the enemy, Daryl” you remind him, a smile easy on your lips, but your tone is firm.

He grunts, explicitly refusing to respond and you sigh.

“Come shower with me,”

Those words catch his attention. His head whips up to look at you, eyes wide and stunned. You admire his surprised expression, noticing how his lips part ever so slightly and how he sucks in a shallow breath as he processes your words and intentions.

“Didn’t you hear the news? It’s safer to shower in pairs,” you joke, but your eyes convey understanding.

Daryl remains frozen for another moment or two, waiting for the punchline or the taunt but it never comes. Of course, it wouldn’t. He knows you. You aren’t like that, not to him. So, when it clicks that this isn’t an immoral joke and he allows himself to believe your gentleness, he nods, flustered but agreeing.

You give him a small smile, jerking your head in the direction of the front door before you turn to walk through it, not waiting for Daryl to move. You know he would follow, he has always followed you and he would follow you to the end of the earth.

By the time he reaches the bathroom, you already have the shower turned on. You have your hand beneath the stream, testing it, determined to have the perfect temperature and it is so unlike you, but at the same time, it is. He has seen you kill walkers with your bare hands, he has seen your unfiltered rage and your grief, and he has seen the special compassion you reserve for Carl and Judith. But it is rare for him to see you this gentle, this soft, this caring.

You know he is there, standing in the doorway watching you. You felt the heaviness of his gaze the moment he reached the second floor. But you don’t mention it, instead, you hum as you adjust the water before turning around to rifle through the cabinets for soap. The house is a treasure-trove of good items and the luxury of having a shower also extends to bathroom products. There are different types of soaps and shampoo to choose from and Daryl sees you fish out two items; a creamy soap bar and a green bottle. You set them both inside the shower before stepping back.

“Go on, get in” you gesture to the shower.

“Thought you were havin’ the first one?”

“And leave you with an opportunity to escape hygiene? Not a chance,” you retort

You know him too well, he thinks fondly. But an uneasiness sets in and you can see apprehension flit across his face.

“Daryl, you can shower. I won’t be leaving, I’ll be right here” you say tenderly, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid to prove your point. You weren’t going to leave him alone.

It’s reassuring, as much as Daryl hates to admit it. He isn’t used to having someone stand by him unwaveringly like you do. He hates to admit that he has come to lean on you, come to let you in. You have never pressured him, never forced his hand and for that, you unknowingly have his eternal gratitude.

“I won’t even look, so hurry up otherwise the water will run cold,” you announce, making a big show of closing your eyes and slapping a hand across your face for good measure.

Daryl cracks a smile at your theatrics, relief rolling off him in waves and slowly he begins to unbutton his shirt. Your ears strain to listen, to catch a sound so you can guess what he is doing. The rustle of a shirt confirms that he hasn’t bolted, and it makes you smile. What you don’t see is how Daryl’s fingers shake slightly as he works his belt undone as well as his jeans. He is stripping off his layers, both literally and metaphorically, and he hasn’t ever felt this bare, even with your eyes closed. He keeps his eyes trained on you as he edges towards the shower, his back never turning to reveal the ugly past that is marked into his skin and he only feels relief when he has the shower curtain drawn, letting it act as a barrier in all senses.

He has to admit; the hot water does feel heavenly. His sigh is, thankfully, masked by the sound of the shower and Daryl closes his eyes, tipping his head back and completely embraces the water. He stands there for a few moments, relishing in the luxury and the feeling of his muscles slowly unwinding, and he almost hates himself for putting this off for so long. He is so lost in heaven that he almost forgets that you are still sitting in the bathroom with him.

He pokes his head out, eyes falling on you and he smiles when he sees that you haven’t moved from your seated position, hands still covering your face but to keep you occupied, you bounce your leg.

It’s almost as if you know he is staring at you because you speak up,

“How’s the shower?” you ask

“Are ya comin’ in or what?” he ignores your question, now smugly watching your surprised reaction.

Gobsmacked, your hands fall from your face, mouth hanging open and your eyebrows raised in disbelief. This is the first time he ever hears you stutter.

“Wh- what?”

“Are ya gettin’ in or not? Ya expect me to leave you sittin’ and waitin’ for me?”

You nod, “Daryl Dixon, I didn’t expect you to invite me to shower with you”

“Sunshine, you did the invitin’ first”

“I never specified if I was to be in the same shower as you at the same time” you respond, shock fading quickly as your confidence returns and Daryl enjoys the transformation.

“Get in” he mutters and drops the curtain, standing back to leave you some room for when you come in.

You are quicker to strip than he was and although he knows you are coming, he can’t help but jump when you step into the cubicle. You notice, of course you notice, but as always, you don’t comment. Instead, you smile up at him with such a warm gaze, Daryl feels his heart clench. Silently, you grab the soap bar and lift it up, expressing your question through your look and he nods. You are gentle as you run the bar over his shoulders and down his arms, taking your time to sudd up your hands so you can run your fingers over each individual digit, cleaning them of the dirt and the grime that had accumulated. Daryl was silent during your endeavour but by the quickness of the rise and fall of his chest depicted his nervousness.

“Tell me if it gets too much” you murmur, eyes flicking to meet his and it amazes him how you don’t pressure him, letting him control his limits. It is his blind trust in you that allows you to be this close to him and you know how hard it is for the redneck to open up to you, to let you close to his turmoil.

“Nah, s’okay” he mutters breathlessly.

You continue on to his torso, rubbing the bar in circular motions and its satisfying to watch the water run dirty, revealing more of the gorgeous man in front of him. Daryl fears it will get awkward when you kneel down in front of him, eyes closed as he wills himself not to make a fool out of himself. Either or not you pick up on his anxious, you don’t say, but you avert your eyes from his lax cock, focusing on cleaning his strong legs. When you are finished Daryl offers you a hand, holding it firmly as he pulls you to your feet and once steady, he doesn’t let go.

“I can leave your back” you offer. The story of the scars isn’t new to you, but their appearance is. He hasn’t let you cast your eyes upon the monstrosities, barely able to look at them himself.

He is torn, gnawing at his lip as he tries to decide on an answer, but his silence is one you will accept. With a fond smile you shrug, reassuring him to the best of your ability.

“That’s okay, tilt your head forward, hun” you are quick to move on, distracting him from the dangerous thoughts that threaten to surface, and it works, the pet name is a pleasant sound falling from your lips.

He obeys, tilting his head forward and closing his eyes as the water runs down his cheekbones. The pop of the shampoo bottle alerts him to your intentions and a sprig of mint fills the steamy air. Your fingers massage his scalp as you clean the brown tresses and Daryl bows beneath your touch. He slumps forward, head resting upon your shoulder in full submission and you pressed a lingering kiss to his temple, fingers never ceasing their ministrations until they begin to cramp a while later. You don’t want to move him, savouring the weight of his body against yours but the suds need to be washed out, so you tap his shoulder. Daryl washes out the remaining suds himself before he looks down at you, guilt suddenly creeping upon him.

“Do yer want me... to, ya know”

Bashfully, he gestures to you, but you shake your head laughing.

“No Daryl, it’s fine, but thank you” you say sincerely, “now, let’s get you out of here and into clean clothes, hey”.

The shower gets switched off and the pair of you emerge from the stuffy cubicle. Daryl grabs the towels first, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. There is no third towel to cover his back and he is painfully aware of that fact, tensing up as he realises that he is closest to the door and will have to turn around to walk out. Once again you amaze him, slipping by to walk out first and Daryl lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

When Daryl appears, he finds you in the small bedroom, stretched out on the bed with your eyes closed.

“Tired?”

“Warm showers make me sleepy” you confess, opening your eyes to look up at the man sheepishly.

He hums and remains standing at the end of the bed, hands tucked into the pockets of the old sweatpants that hang from his hips and takes his time to admire you. He doesn’t admire your clothes, although the sight of you in snug clothes makes the fluttering in his chest go faster; but he soaks in your comfortableness, your trust.

He doesn’t ask if you could move and make room for him, wordlessly you do it anyway when Daryl begins to climb onto the bed. He flops onto the mattress once he reaches the pillow, heaving a sigh as his body melts into the softness of the mattress. He rarely allows himself to sleep on it, leaving it for you to use while he takes the couch or the chair outside on the porch. And just like the shower, he realises how much he has been missing out on. And he is sick of it.

“Yer too good to me, Y/N” he mumbles, and you chuckle, shaking your head before you roll onto your side to face him.

“Nah, just doing what is right”. What you deserve.

You both fall silent, letting the post-shower haze settle over you and allowing your bodies to relax.

You are on the cusp of sleep when you feel Daryl’s hand slip into yours, calloused skin brushing against yours and instinctively you tighten your grip, Daryl squeezing back.

“Thank you” he murmurs.

You don’t say anything, fighting the pull of sleep and with a last-ditch effort you curl into Daryl, his arms sweeping you closer to his chest and cocooned in his security, you allow yourself to drift to sleep.

Alexandria may be weak, but it’s given you a safe haven, and maybe it isn’t all that bad.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x oc #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #daryl dixon imagines #twd imagine #daryl dixon/reader #twd imagines #daryl dixon fanfic #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead imagine #ly-canthropewrites #fluff #sfw

3K notes · View notes

ddixons-angel · 4 years ago

Text

Fated: Season 6

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: Hi hi!! I hope you all had a wonderful weekend, regardless of whether you celebrate the holidays or not! ^^ Now that we’re back to Monday, you know what that means... a new chapter! This one, we’re finally back into the flow of the actual show :D Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, it’s actually of my favorite episode haha

Chapter 10

The sun’s rays peek through the curtains of Gloria and Daryl’s shared bedroom, disturbing her from her sleep as the rays of light hit her face. Gloria wiggles in their bed as she wakes up, blinking the sleep away from her eyes. She looks to the side and smiles lazily at Daryl who’s already awake laying next to her. He was always able to somehow wake up right before her.

“Mornin’ sunshine.” he greets her with a kiss to the forehead.

Gloria giggles then wraps her arms around his neck, "morning, sweetheart," she whispers as pulls him down for a kiss.

Daryl smiles into the kiss but then pulls back slightly, hovering over her with a smirk on his face, “Ya needy,” he pecks her lips teasingly, “last night wasn’ enough for ya?”

His words earn him a playful glare from her as she nips his bottom lip. Daryl chuckles at her before pressing his lips on hers again. He kisses her deeply, earning a soft moan from Gloria as she closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips on hers. She whines when he suddenly pulls away from her, getting up from the bed to get dressed.

“I should get ready for my run with Rick.” he says, his back was facing her but she could hear the smirk in his voice.

She throws a pillow at him, hitting him in the arm, “you tease.”

Gloria sits up on the bed and hugs a pillow to her chest as Daryl puts on his clothes. He turns around as he buckles up his pants and looks at her.

“Ya just gonna stay in bed all day an’ wait for me to come back?” he teases with a side smile.

Gloria rolls her eyes and scoffs, “you really think you’re that good?” She gets up as well, grabbing her clothes off the ground and getting dressed herself.

“Tha’s what ya were telling me las' night.” Daryl shoots back.

His words cause her face to blush a bright red as she remembers the previous night; she’d been extra affectionate with him after their little Korean lesson. She opens her mouth to retort but isn’t able to come up with anything. Instead, she huffs and leaves the room once she’s dressed. Daryl snickers at her reaction and follows her out, catching her in a hug from behind.

“Why ya gettin’ all shy when ya were so wild just a few hours ago?” he whispers in her ear.

She blushes even more and nudges him, “Stop.”

It was mornings like this that she loved. Even though Daryl was going out of his way to embarrass and tease her, it made her happy that he was this playful with her. It was especially rare that he was this bold and Gloria knew that he was this way only around her.

Daryl spins her around to face him and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead, “I love ya.”

Gloria giggles and wraps her arms around his neck, “I love you too.”

---

As planned, Rick and Daryl had left on their supply run. Gloria was the one handling the gate when they left, letting them out. She had to hold her laughter as Eugene gave them a list of things to look out for, using terminology she couldn’t even understand, but Daryl and Rick’s faces as they tried to comprehend him were just priceless. Around an hour after they had left, Spencer comes up to the gate with a shovel strapped to his back.

“Open the gate, please.” he says more as a request than a question.

“Are you going out there alone?” Gloria asks back, furrowing her brows.

“Yes, I am.” he tells her, matter-of-factly.

Gloria glances behind him, noticing the shovel and sighs. She understands what he wants to do, so without asking any more questions, she begins to open the gate. Her actions make Spencer frown in confusion, not expecting it to be this easy to have her let him out.

“You’re really going to let me go out there on my own without even asking me what I’m doing?” he asks.

“I already know what you want to do and even if I didn’t, there’s no way I can stop you. You’ve been sneaking out when whoever’s guarding the gates refuse to let you out anyway.” she tells him.

“Y-you noticed...” Spencer gawks at her, surprised.

“I’m not the only one,” she informs.

Gloria steps to the side of the open gate, giving him access to the outside. He nods to her and begins to walk outside.

“Hey, Spencer?” she calls out to him and he turns to look at her, “bring her back, she should be buried behind these walls, she belongs here.”

Spencer ponders her words, his lips pursed as he nods then continues on his way. Gloria closes and locks the gate behind him. When the herd had roamed the streets of Alexandria, Deanna had gotten bit while trying to get back to the safety of her home and Gloria had noticed none of the graves were marked by her name.

Shortly after, Michonne walks up to the gate equipped with her sword, “did you let Spencer outside?”

“You say that like he’s a dog,” Gloria chuckles, “but yeah, I did.”

“Did he say what he was going out for?” Michonne asks.

Gloria shakes her head, “no, but I know why he went out there. I know you know why too.”

Michonne sighs at this and nods, then she gestures to the gate, “I’m going after him.”

“You don’t think he can handle himself?” Gloria says, but she steps to open the gate anyway.

“I don’t think he should be out there by himself, if and when he finds her, he might not be able to put her down...” Michonne says, pursing her lips.

Gloria sighs and nods, “yeah... you be careful out there, too.”

Michonne smiles stiffly and nods before walking out of the gated community. Gloria shuts the gate and locks it after she’s out, only to open it again for her and Spencer a few hours later when they both return with Deanna’s corpse. Michonne stays with Gloria at the gates as Spencer carries his mother’s body towards the graveyard.

“Should we help him?” Gloria asks.

“No... I think this is something he wants to do on his own,” Michonne says with a sigh.

---

Gloria had made her way to Deanna’s grave to pay her respects for the woman after Eugene had relieved her of her shift. She stands in front of the grave and smiles softly as she sees that Spencer buried her right beside Reg.

“Thank you, for everything you’ve done for us, Deanna.” she says softly.

She hears footsteps approaching from behind her and she glances back to see Spencer coming to the grave with a bundle of flowers in his hand. He smiles softly at her and places the bundle right in front of the wooden cross.

“I don’t think I’ve said this yet... I’m sorry for what happened to her.” Gloria tells him.

Spencer smiles softly and nods, “I’m sorry about Gena as well,” he then looks at her with a sincere expression, “I wanted to thank you, Gloria.”

She raises her brow at him in confusion, “for what?”

“For telling me to bring her back here. I was just gonna find a spot out there and bury her somewhere outside these walls.” he admits.

“Deanna built this place with Reg, it would just be wrong to have them buried anywhere but here.” Gloria tells him.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think like that before, but you’re right,” he pauses then pulls Gloria into him for a hug, “thank you, for letting me realize that.”

The movement is quick and spontaneous so Gloria wasn’t able to react as he hugs her tight.

“Thank you...” he whispers, emotion thick in his voice.

Gloria lets out a small sigh and pats his back gently. She wasn’t very comfortable with hugging him since she barely knew him, but she wasn’t going to push him away either, he had just lost his mother.

She had gotten out of it as she told Spencer that she needed to check up on something at the infirmary so that he would let her go. That was where she found out from Denise that Rick and Daryl had brought a man back but he was unconscious.

“Unconscious? What happened?” Gloria asks her, crossing her arms.

“Rick said he took a pretty hard hit to the head by a truck door, or something like that. He’s okay, didn’t seem to have any other serious injuries, might have a minor concussion though.” Denise informs.

Gloria nods then looks around, frowning when she sees that the patient beds are empty, “so.. Where is he?”

“Daryl took him to our jail,” Denise tells her, “oh, before you go, I should let you know that Daryl didn’t seem to be in a good mood, he said something about the guy being the reason why their run didn’t work out? Just figured you should know that.”

“Alright, thanks for the heads up.” Gloria smiles at her then leaves the infirmary.

She goes back to their house to find Daryl, she figured that if he wasn’t in a good mood, he’d come to find her first. However, her thought process was apparently wrong when she found the house empty. Pursing her lips, she goes out to the porch where she spots Rick walking down the street.

“Hey, Rick!” she calls out, walking towards him, “do you know where Daryl is?”

He nods pointedly down the street, “taking guard at the jail.”

Gloria smiles and nods at him, thanking him before going off to find her archer. She runs off in the direction of the house they first kept Rick when he went rogue that one day, finding Daryl seated on the steps fiddling with his fingers.

“Hey you,” she calls out when she reaches him, she sits down beside him, “you okay?”

Daryl hums and nods, “yeah...”

“You sure? You don’t exactly seem okay,” Gloria calls him out.

“‘M fine...” he persists, “saw ya with Spencer earlier... what’d he want?”

“He just buried Deanna...” she informs him, “he went outside the walls to bring her back, wanted to comfort him, give him my condolences.”

He looks down and mumbles, “ya didn’ have to hug him...”

“Are you...jealous?” Gloria teases and she grins when she sees how his face turns pink, “yeah, you’re totally jealous.”

“I ain’.” he denies.

“Okay, you’re not jealous.” Gloria nods, a cheeky smile on her face, “then you won’t mind if I go to comfort him some more.”

She starts to get up but Daryl pulls her back down and wraps his arms around her, a physical indication that he was definitely jealous. His actions make Gloria giggle, she’s never seen him so protective of her this way before and deep down, she absolutely loved it.

“You’re so adorable.” she says, kissing his cheek.

Daryl rolls his eyes, “am not.”

Knowing that she’s never going to win that argument, she changes the subject, “so who’d you bring back?”

“Some asshole who tried to take our truck.” Daryl tells her.

“He tries to take your truck so you run him over with it?” Gloria raises her brow, trying to understand the story fully.

“Nah, me an’ Rick found this truck full o’ food but this asshole stole it from us, we chased him down an’ got it back but he somehow climbed on the damn roof. I wanted to chase him down and beat his ass but then the truck rolled into a lake.” he sighs as he remembers the events of his day.

Gloria blinks at his story, taking in what he just told her, “so... you’re telling me he climbed on the roof of the truck without you or Rick noticing?”

“Yep.” Daryl says.

“Man must be a ninja or something.” she says, making Daryl snort out a laugh, “if he was trying to steal from you two, why even bring him back? He could be a threat.”

Daryl shrugs, “‘t was Rick’s idea, I wanted to put him up a tree.”

“A tree?” Gloria chuckles.

“He was able to get on our moving truck even after we tied him up, he can get himself out a tree. Man even calls himself Jesus, he woulda been fine.” Daryl rants.

“Really, he calls himself Jesus?” she gawks at him.

“Yeah, prolly ‘cause he has a beard and long hair.” he says, then gets up from the porch, “should go check on him, see if he woke up.”

Gloria gets up as well, following Daryl into the house. When the two of them are inside though, they freeze when they see that the room is empty. They look at each other then bolt out of the house altogether. There was a stranger loose in Alexandria at night who knew how to fight and sneak right out from under Daryl’s nose. They had to find him or things could get really bad.

Gloria and Daryl split up to find the man. Glenn and Maggie are outside tending to the gardens when they see Gloria frantically going around, looking for something. They go up to her to find out what was wrong.

“Hey, sis, everything okay?” Glenn asks.

“Have you two seen a man who looks like Jesus?” Gloria asks seriously.

Both Glenn and Maggie blink at her in confusion, they share a look as Maggie shakes her head and Glenn verbally tells her ‘no’.

“What’s this about?” Glenn frowns.

“Daryl and Rick brought someone back from their run, they were in the jail but now they’re gone and no one knows where he is.” Gloria explains.

Hearing this worries Glenn and Maggie as well and they all split up to find this potentially dangerous man. Eventually, they find him sitting on the stairs of Rick’s house. Carl was already pointing a gun at the intruder as he asks him what he’s doing in his house.

“I’m uh, sitting on the steps, looking at this painting, waiting for your mom and dad to get dressed. Hi, I’m Jesus.” the man says.

His words confuse everyone as from their knowledge, Lori was dead. Their confusion is soon cleared though when the door opens and Rick and Michonne emerge from Rick’s bedroom. Daryl has his gun up, pointed at Jesus, fixated on the man. Gloria and Glenn lower their weapons as they look at each other, the siblings share a look and have to keep themselves from laughing at Rick and Michonne for getting caught.

---

Next Chapter

I really loved this episode, there was just a completely different feel to it and their introduction for Jesus was perfect hehe I hope I did it justice! Please let me know what you thought of it ^^

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