thoughtless-muse

[thoughtless-muse]

Hey all, just wanted to give a small update: this blog isn’t abandoned by any means, and I’m slowly but surely updating all my drafts. life has just been a bit hectic for me lately, and my motivation hasn’t been the best either. but I promise I’m working on everything! you all have been so amazing and supportive of me and I can’t begin to express how much that means to me <33 I also want to just give a huge thank you to all of my followers and to everyone who had joined the taglist! you’re all amazing, sexy babes 😘😘

– muse

[thoughtless-muse]

a/n: the title (and some other parts of the story) are inspired by the song ‘bad blood’ by taylor swift and no, i am not ashamed of it lmao. this is my first time ever diving into this type of story, so I’m equal parts excited and terrified. if you have any critiques/tips, please let me know below! also, “scout’s honor” is by no means abandoned. I’m going to be writing/posting chapters of each story at their own pace :)

chapter summary: you had been alone for over a month now, combating against stumbling dead people who slobbered for your flesh. when a random stranger finds you in the aftermath of a blackout, the last thing you expected was for him to ask you to join his group. but he did, and in a desperate move to escape those four walls, you accepted – not knowing at all what was in store for you.

word count: 2.4k

c/w: canon-typical violence/gore, sassy!reader, fem!reader, language, past-established relationship, very subtle allusions to a troubled past

prologue

“hey, lady, are you, uh… are you okay?”

the words were garbled and a tad distorted, and for a moment, you thought you’d merely conjured the voice from the depths of your frayed conscious — but the boyish face that stared down at you when you fluttered your eyes open threw that theory straight out of the window.

for a moment, you simply stared in silence. you stared at the boy’s face, taking note of the pink flush of life to his flesh — not gray, not rotted, not bloody; pink. his face was clammy, sweaty, with the skin pulled in different directions to paint an expression of worry; an honest to god expression.

a person. this was a living, breathing, real person standing above you. at least, he seemed real enough, but —

“are you real?”

the question bubbled, croaky and hoarse, past your lips before you could reign it in. the boy scrunched his bushy brows together and his squinted eyes narrowed until they were near closed. a clear expression of confusion. huh, another expression.

“um, yeah, I am.” the boy responded, though, in his bewilderment, the statement sounded more like a question than a fact. a laugh wrenched itself from your chest.

“you don’t sound too confident about that, mystery man.”

“I-I’ve just never been asked that question before.” the boy sputtered, a tad defensively, lips pulling into a frown. expression after expression from this one, it seemed.

“I haven’t had to ask that question before,” you grumbled out. pain pinched your ribs when you propped yourself up on your elbows, no longer feeling the need to lay flat on the warm pavement. “don’t exactly see new faces in the city much, let alone breathing ones.”

“you mean you’ve been in the city this whole time?” the boy exclaimed quietly; his eyes were wide now, revealing orbs the shade of dark chocolate. they weren’t fogged over, dead, or unseeing, but glassy and expressive. human.

a ragged, raspy croak broke off your sentence before you could even start it. your muscles jolted in response, but before you could react, the boy let out a shocked yelp that was followed quickly by a wet squelch right next to you. you trailed your eyes down to find a small hand-ax splitting the rotted flesh of the groaner to your right. the one you swore you’d killed not long ago.

“huh. thought I got that one,” you noted mellowly, swinging your eyes back up to the boy to give him a small nod. “thanks.”

“yeah, uh, no problem.” the boy panted, returning your nod. his eyes darted from side to side before he thrust out a hand to you. all you could do was stare at it.

“it’s not safe out here in the open. we should really get inside a building or something,” the man suggested, words edged with subtle nervousness. you scanned your surroundings slowly; there was a cluster of groaners shuffling towards you, but they were at least twenty yards away — not much of a threat given the granny crawl they were traveling at.

mystery man, however, became more nervous at the sight of them.

“c’mon, I know a place that’s clear. it’s not far from here.” he urged, extended hand trembling faintly. you let out a huff and grasped it with your own. your ribs bloomed with pain once again when the man hauled you up, but you bit back the groan that it prompted; you’d had worse than this, and you’d long since learned to suck it up and just keep truckin’.

when you were stable on your feet the man released your hand and reached down to free the hand-ax from the fallen groaner’s head, his face scrunching in disgust at the wet sucking sound the action elicited. it actually amused you to an extent.

“okay, mystery man, lead the way to safety.” you stated flippantly, manipulating your arm in a ‘the stage is yours’ sort of gesture. the man gave you a bit of a stinky side-eye before jerking his head to the left.

“it’s just this way,” he whispered. he padded to the sidewalk quietly, head whipping in each direction, body tense as if he expected a groaner to simply jump out unannounced at any moment.

what a scaredy cat, you thought jocularly.

“also, my name is glenn, not ‘mystery man.’” he added in a mutter.

you merely hummed in acknowledgment, more so for the man than yourself; you knew that by sundown he’d be gone with the wind, you’d forget all about this glenn fellow, and his name would be lost to your memory forever. no point in trying to stick it there in the first place.

silently, glenn led you through skinny, trashed back alleys and skirted past dilapidated structures, until at last he reached a large brick building. the door, which looked to be some sort of emergency exit, was a cool, gray metal, the hinges lined with rust and the surface slightly bleached from the harsh rays of the sun.

“it’s in here,” glenn murmured, grasping the handle and yanking it open. the hinges gave a deep, audible screech as he did so. “we cleared this out a few days ago.”

“we?” you parroted, trepidation flaring in your gut. it was fine when it was just glenn, but the thought of a group of people, one composed of unknown numbers, set off all kinds of alarms in your head.

groaners you could handle any day of the week; they were predictable, simple — just ambling corpses with no real thought process. humans… humans were different. complex, unpredictable, dangerous.

glenn noticed immediately when you hadn’t followed him through the threshold of the door; he glanced back at you, brows scrunched once more in confusion — it only took him a few moments to register the look upon your face before his eyes were widening and he was sputtering, “o-oh, it’s fine, my group isn’t – uh, they’re not dangerous. they won’t hurt you. and in any case, they aren’t w-with me today – I always make runs alone.”

“I’m s’posed to take your word for it?” you shot back, eyes narrowed dangerously. glenn gulped audibly and flicked his eyes between you and the interior of the building, lips working without producing any sound. he looked so helpless, like a lost puppy, that you couldn’t stop yourself from deflating.

“I believe you,” you uttered. “at least, I will for now. I mean, you don’t look all that dangerous. I reckon I could knock you on your ass in two seconds flat.”

a threat wrapped up within a petulant jab; not exactly your proudest moment, but part of you felt cornered, and it seemed to get the job done. glenn’s eyes flashed with surprise, and maybe a bit of fear, and his voice was less than stable when he murmured, “there’s no one else in there, I swear.”

the tense set of his shoulders, his wide eyes, and the shakiness in his voice seemed so genuine, that you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“are you actually scared of me, mystery man?” you jested, genuinely bemused by how sincerely glenn considered your concealed threat. was he actually taking you seriously? glenn’s throat flexed as he swallowed and nodded.

“well, I just watched you take down about a dozen geeks with just a pocket knife; so, yeah, kind of.”

you chuckled to yourself and gave glenn a once over. maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all. he appeared genuine and harmless. kinda cute, too; in an innocent, boyish way, of course – boyish had never exactly been your style, but you could enjoy the aesthetic of it.

“well, glenn, why don’t you go ahead and show me around?” you purred, rolling his name across your tongue and not bothering to wait for a verbal confirmation. you pushed past glenn and into the dank, dusty building, eyes immediately sweeping across the bare shelves and stained walls. not a groaner, nor human, in sight.

glenn ambled further in and shut the door behind him with a soft whoosh and click. the room became near saturated in darkness, the only light being that of the sunlight filtering weakly through the gaps between the boards nailed to the windows. glenn wasn’t lying when he said it had been cleared out, but he didn’t mention anything about it being groaner-proof.

“is this, like, where your group stays or somethin’?” you inquired, your eyes narrowed and scrutinizing of every detail. there were no mats or makeshift beds that you could see, no visible provisions, and the space lacked the tell-tale signs of human inhabitance.

“oh, no, uh, this is just a rendezvous point – or, it will be. like I said before, I mostly do runs on my own.” glenn passed by you as he explained, coming to a kneel in the middle of the floor where the sunlight was most luminous. he slipped a large, beige bag from his shoulder and planted it on the ground, flipping the top and burying his hand inside.

“runs?” you wondered aloud, watching the man closely as he began to pull items from the bag one by one. medical gauzes, bottles of hydrogen peroxide, boxes of bandaids, a couple cans of vegetables occupied the space beside him bit by bit.

“yeah, runs. we made a camp a while back, at an old quarry just outside the city. food and water aren’t much of issue there, but other things” – glenn glanced up at you a bit sheepishly – “well, they run short sometimes.”

“so they send you out alone to get them?” you surmised, prompting an airy chuckle from the kneeling man.

“ah, no, I actually offered. I know the city like the back of my hand. getting in and out is no problem for me.”

you nodded your understanding, chewing the tender skin on the inside of your cheek – you were inclined to believe glenn, considering he had yet to prove himself untrustworthy, but there was something that was gnawing at you; something that you needed some clarification on.

“so, uh, if you came out here to get supplies, why’d’ya come over to me? and why did you bring me here?”

glenn paused his task for a brief moment before sighing softly. his lips thinned as he seemed to ponder how to answer.

“because I made a promise to myself. I told myself that if I ever ran across someone here in the city, I’d ask if they want to come back with me,” glenn answered quietly, though by the clench of his jaw, you could tell he wasn’t quite done with his explanation, so you bit back the other questions swirling on your tongue. “I guess I just hoped to myself that if the roles were ever reversed, someone would do the same for me.”

the residual tension that had been locking up your shoulders ever since entering the building drained away like a river to the ocean. you smiled softly and plopped down on the floor a few feet away from glenn. with a teasing warmth in your chest, you queried, “so you saw me and decided you wanted me to come home with you?”

glenn rolled his eyes, but the flush in his cheeks betrayed the effect your suggestive comment had on him.

“not like that, it’s just – it’s just that things aren’t as easy as they used to be. your best chance at survival is with a group.”

“I’ve done fine on my own,” you responded back flippantly, planting your palms behind you and leaning your weight back atop them. “I mean, I’ve been here since it started.”

glenn swiped his tongue over his bottom lip nervously, scanning through the contents on the floor before rapidly scooping them back into his bag.

“yeah, I, uh, I noticed that you’re capable. it’s just that – things won’t always be so easy, you know?”

irritation shot through your chest like a hot lance, your somewhat good mood ruined instantly.

“did I say it was easy?” you seethed, anger punctuating your every movement as you swung your hands back in front of you and leaned forward.

just as it had at the door, glenn’s mouth began to open and close rapidly as he tried desperately to recover. his wide eyes flicked down to your waistline, the area he knew held your pocket knife, and he scooted back a small bit while simultaneously dragging his bag in front of his body; an attempt to keep distance between the two of you.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that – that without a group, surviving will get harder and harder.”

you weren’t entirely sure if it was from lack of sleep, stress, or the cursed, buried memories that had been incessantly dragging themselves back up despite your multiple efforts to keep them down, but you had been highly irritable the last few days. every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face, you heard his voice, taunting you with the sweet nothings he whispered long ago. you still felt his phantom touches that had long since grown cold.

you just wanted it to stop.

you wanted to find the strength to throw that little box out of the fucking window, and to burn that one shirt he left, the only things left to remind you that he wasn’t just some conjured fever dream. that’s why you’d been out in the street in the first place, drawing as many groaners as you could to yourself just so you could picture his face as you plunged your knife through their soft, rotten skulls.

and maybe, just maybe, find the strength to drop the knife and let it end.

but you just couldn’t. you couldn’t throw the box out, you couldn’t burn the shirt, and you most definitely couldn’t let yourself die; it went against everything he taught you.

with a sigh, you opened your eyes, which you had never even remembered closing, and regarded glenn once more. his eyes were still wide, clouded with something that was a mixture of nervous and worried, his hand trembled atop his bag, and his bottom lip wavered.

“you said you promised yourself that you’d invite whoever you found in the city to your camp, yeah?” you quizzed, the question one that glenn had not expected you to ask, if the brief confusion on his face was any indicator. after a moment’s hesitance, glenn nodded.

“yeah… our camp is pretty well established, and I know we’ve got room for others. does that, uh – does that mean you want to come back with me?”

you’d never second guessed your choices, nor the consequences of those choices, and you weren’t about to start now — so, with a cheeky smile and a wink, you purred,

“sure thing, glenn. I’ll come home with you.”

a/n: so I recently checked my analytics and uh… 114 followers?? what??? like I’m — I’m speechless y’all. thank you so so much I can’t even begin to express how much it means to me <3 I promise I’ll be doing my best to dutifully deliver content to y’all as fast as possible <33333

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown @alanalanalanalanalanna @just-always-tired @chylerluvschim @girlydollydarling @marvelcasey05

[thoughtless-muse]

you thought that daryl dixon truly couldn’t ruin your life any more than he already had — but, boy, were you ever wrong.

alternately, daryl had left you high and dry on your wedding night months ago, only to come face to face with you during the end of the world — and, boy, does he have some explainin’ to do.

DISCLAIMER: this is going to be different from the canon version of TWD, as I want to take a lighter approach to the series (ie, not as much death, peril, or angst). that being said, this series will include those things, just not to the morbid extent of the show. this is meant as more of a reprieve from that, though it will have canon events included. also, thanks to my ever-present metaphorical hard-on for season one and two daryl, this series will take place primarily in that time frame. now that that’s out of the way, let’s get to some more important information, such as:

genre(s): smut, angst, comedy, hurt/comfort, fluff, slow build, second-chance romance (first time writing this particular genre, yay!)

rating: 18+ (adult only)

c/w (in general): explicit sexual content, lovers-to-enemies (that’s not one you see often), enemies-to-lovers, second chance romance, love-hate relationships, slow burn, language, fem!reader, tension, additional tags to be posted in each chapter

chapter count: undetermined/tbd…

chapter index:

prologue

chapter one (in the works)

chapter two (in the works)

chapter three (in the works)

[thoughtless-muse]

“oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.” you scoffed, loud and scornful, cutting glenn off mid-explanation and garnering the attention of quite a few unfamiliar gazes — and one that was painfully, infuriatingly, and hauntingly familiar.

glenn timidly followed your heated glare, clearly put off by the rigid aggression that seized your body, and swallowed with an audible gulp when his eyes landed on the object of your sudden ire.

“u-uh, do you – do you, uh, know daryl?” he asked, wringing his hands together and darting his eyes around nervously. glenn really didn’t like tension, did he?

too bad for him — there was about to be a lot more of it.

“I sure do.” you chirped, sickly sweet but seething. without breaking the venomous eye contact between yourself and him, you added, “technically, he’s my husband.”

a/n: hey, here’s a really really short blurb that may or may not eventually turn into an actual story – who knows? this really just popped into my head super unprompted, like, I don’t even know where it came from but already my head is fucking running with it and I simply can’t stop thinking about it. like, I’m even thinking of a title for it. it’s kind of frustrating that my head would throw new ideas at me when I’m already in the process of writing a multi-chapter fic, but technically speaking, there’s no law against writing two at the same time, right? right?? Urghhh, I just can’t make up my mind right now. maybe this little blurb was enjoyable to some of you <33

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown

[thoughtless-muse]

chapter summary: reality is certainly a hard pill to swallow – but in order to keep moving forward, swallow it you must.

word count: 4.2k

c/w: language, bickering, excessive use of apostrophes (courtesy of the dixon accent), subtle bodily description of reader (tits and hips, nothing too in-depth), low key sexual harassment I think (merle checks reader out a lot), blossoming friendships, minor angst, suggestive thoughts, brief mentions of grief/loss, subtle tension, pre-season one

chapter one: dislocated introductions

it had been some time since shane ushered the two men into his tent for a ‘discussion.’ in fact, by the time you’d walked down to the lake and back, the men were still inside the tent. you weren’t nervous about it, per se, but you certainly hadn’t liked the look on shane’s face as he guided them to the tent.

he looked… uncharacteristically angry. it was a look you hadn’t seen on his face in all the years you’d known him, which were quite a few – even when the world had been blown to shit, even as he watched the napalm drop into the streets of atlanta, even when he recalled the massacre he’d witnessed in the hospital, he hadn’t looked that angry.

it had you wondering why.

to you, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. shane’s reaction would have been understandable had merle been waving his gun around or pointing it at someone, or if he’d been threatening the camp in some way. but all merle had done was show up and ask for his brother, albeit a bit argumentatively; but he kept his gun holstered to his hip the whole time, never even reaching a hand down toward it.

and, honestly, who didn’t have a gun on them with the world in the state that it was?

shane’s reaction had appealed as more of an overreaction in your eyes. you could understand mistrusting complete strangers, especially ones who were armed, but the way shane handled it just seemed so… extreme. and to be angry at daryl for his brother’s choices? just ridiculous.

you had to physically restrain yourself from creeping closer to shane’s tent in an attempt to garner an earful. from this distance, you couldn’t hear any of the words that were being passed around within, but so far no yelling had broken out. you were sure the whole camp would be able to hear it if it had. but you were so damn curious; even though it truly wasn’t a matter than concerned you.

daryl wasn’t even supposed to be a concern to you; shane had made it clear right from the start what he thought your concerns should be – but you felt strangely as if daryl’s fate was being decided within that tent, and a part of you desperately wanted to have a say in that for reasons you couldn’t understand.

reasons you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

“hey, sweetheart.” your concentration was torn from shane’s tent by a soft voice behind you and a warm hand on your shoulder. you whipped your head around and squinted against the glare of the georgia sun, barely able to perceive the outline of lori standing above you.

“oh, hey, lori.” you acknowledged the older woman with a small smile. she returned the gesture with a small squeeze to your shoulder.

“do you know where shane is?” lori queried with a glance around the camp. you grimaced subtly and gestured to shane’s tent.

“he’s in there. he’s talking to daryl and his brother.” you answered, a bit flippantly, still irked by the event that had transpired previously, still unable to remove that expression on shane’s face from your mind.

“daryl?” lori mused, eyebrows sewing together in confusion. you chuckled airily and nodded, using your hands to mimic the act of adjusting a strap over your shoulder.

“daryl, the guy with the crossbow.” you iterated, and lori’s lips popped open in a small ‘o’ shape as she mentally connected the dots.

“I didn’t know he had a brother.” lori hummed thoughtfully as she circled around you, plopping herself down on the wooden crate positioned diagonal from the one you sat on. her dark hair fell strand by strand over her shoulder as she planted her elbows on her knees and leaned forward.

“no one did,” you concurred. “hell, I don’t think anyone even knew his name. I didn’t know it until just earlier.”

lori simply nodded in agreement, glancing over in the direction of shane’s tent. you couldn’t help but notice a strange mist covering her eyes, as if she wasn’t truly seeing what she was looking at. concern gnawed like a tiny beast at your brain, and you leaned closer to the woman and lowered your voice, softly calling, “you okay, lor?”

you wouldn’t say lori and yourself were particularly close – at least not in a way that was inseparable, as you had been with your brother. but lori had certainly lived up to the ‘sister in law’ name, quickly becoming your family in every way but blood; you looked up to her, cared for her, and seeing her eyes cloud over with that look just didn’t sit right with you. especially not with shane’s glare still fresh in your mind.

“what was that, sweetie?” lori asked, almost absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the tent. you swallowed around a tight knot in your throat.

“I asked if you were okay, lori.” you reiterated, placing a bit more force into your tone, which seemed to break her from her trance. her eyes, now clear of that fog, returned to yours and her lips pulled up into a smile.

“yeah, yeah, I’m fine. just a bit… distracted, I guess.”

you weren’t wholly convinced by her answer, but confident enough in the fact that if there was something bothering her she would open up about it, you shirked off the worry and steered the conversation into a different direction.

“where’s carl?”

“carol’s watching him. he’s coloring with sophia right now.” lori responded almost immediately, but a stone still dropped into your stomach when she added, “why is shane talking to daryl and his brother in there?”

“well, I don’t know the full story. I was doing laundry when carl came and got me. I guess daryl’s brother just marched right into camp and demanded to see him.”

“carl was near him?” lori asked, panic eddying into her voice. you quickly reached over and grasped her by the crook of the elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“he was fine, lori. shane and I were both there. honestly, if you ask me, he wasn’t in any danger in the first place.” you barely managed to stifle back a scoff, and lori stared at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“morales told me he had a gun.”

you nodded in agreement. “he did, but he never even took it out of the holster. but shane just… overreacted. demanded that he hand it over.”

lori blinked slowly, once then twice, before she sighed and linked her fingers together between her knees.

“I can’t say if he was overreacting or not. but I know he’s been… stressed lately, so that may have played a part in his actions.”

you bit the inside of your cheek and swallowed down the groan that threatened to bubble past your lips. you weren’t sure what had you so irritated about the whole ordeal, you just were.

“that’s probably why he’s holding a full-scale interrogation in there right now, too, huh?” you quipped.

“he’s probably just making sure they’re good people. you can’t really take chances these days.” lori shot back.

now, you simply couldn’t hold back your scoff. was lori really on the same page as shane?

“daryl has been here for days, and nothing bad has happened. he came in with a crossbow, for christ’s sake! he very easily could have put an arrow between anyone’s eyes by now, but he hasn’t.” you combated, fixing lori with a glare. why were you so angry, anyway?

lori pursed her lips and the muscles of her throat contracted as she swallowed deeply. her knuckles began to whiten from how tightly her fingers were wound together.

“be that as it may, we don’t know his brother at all. daryl could be perfectly sane whereas his brother could be the complete opposite. I agree with what shane asked of him, and I agree with what he’s doing now.” lori implored, her eyes wide with plea; a plea for you to understand.

the irritation within your chest quelled a small bit as you digested lori’s words. could it be, perhaps, that you were the one who overreacted? human nature is a concept that is difficult to conceive, and just because shane’s actions seemed to air too far on the side of caution, you supposed they weren’t completely uncalled for; as lori had stated, merle was a mystery to everyone except daryl, and he could very well pose a threat in the future, even if he hadn’t posed one hours ago.

“I suppose you’re right, lori.” you finally conceded with a sigh, sending the older woman a bit of a sheepish look. your anger towards her and the situation suddenly dawned on you as a bit childish. lori’s lips pulled into a wide smile and she reached over to rub her palm into your bicep.

“it’s okay to have crushes, sweetheart. but don’t let them overtake your sense of reason.” lori murmured, her voice edged with amusement.

you gaped at lori as your cheeks bloomed with heat. crushes? what the hell was she talking about? you didn’t have a crush on anyone.

you were just upset that shane had immediately considered merle a threat without even knowing the man. because shane didn’t know him, and by considering him a threat, he, by extension, called daryl into question and –

oh.

oh.

that’s what lori meant.

don’t let them overtake your sense of reason.

slowly, everything began to click into place. the real reason behind your anger and frustration at shane’s actions. it wasn’t because you considered them to be too cautious, but because you didn’t like the idea of shane, or anyone else, viewing daryl as a potential threat.

the one thing you couldn’t figure out was why. why did that irk you so bad? was it because you genuinely felt that, bad attitude aside and no matter how much he annoyed you, daryl was a good guy? or was it because you simply wanted daryl to be a good guy because you were attracted to him?

or was it because you hated the way his face had contorted with discomfort when shane confronted him about something he clearly hadn’t wanted happening in the first place?

“fuck!” you groaned, burying your heated face into your palms. your reaction prompted a bubbly laugh from lori, who once more reached over to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“it’s okay, hun. just take some time to calm down, yeah? maybe go color with carl like you used to?” lori suggested, and you playfully batted at her hand, sending her a glare through your fingers.

“I’m not twelve anymore, lori. that won’t work on me.”

contrary to the statement you’d uttered to lori, you found yourself seated at the makeshift table next to carl not even fifteen minutes later, an indigo crayon clutched in your hand and two children giggling at your masterpiece.

“apples aren’t supposed to be blue!” carl guffawed, tilting his head to the side and scrutinizing your crudely drawn apple.

“okay, two things, carl,” you started, reaching over to flick the boy in the ear lightly. “first thing – this isn’t blue, it’s indigo. and, second thing” – you extended your arm past carl to the stack of crayons beside him – “I wouldn’t have to make my apple indigo if someone wasn’t hogging all the red crayons!”

carl nearly squealed and shot his hands up to slap at your arm, effectively batting away your advance towards his treasure trove. at the look of mock surprise you shot him, carl erupted into a fit of giggles and laughs, which shot warmth straight through your chest.

carl looked so much like rick that sometimes it hurt.

overcome with affection for the boy, you ruffled his hair, your fingers getting caught unceremoniously by the subtle tangles within.

“you need a haircut,” you observed, retracting your fingers from carl’s hair as gently as you could. carl made a gagging noise and shook his head vehemently. his reaction pulled a small chuckle from your throat. carl hated haircuts.

“hey, it’s that strange man.” sophia suddenly exclaimed, voice lowered as though to only speak to the occupants of the table. your heart tripped over itself and you whipped your head towards the direction sophia was gesturing to. sure enough, you noticed the man from earlier, merle, sauntering towards the table.

something quick and hot shot through your veins, lori’s previous words returning to your mind with a vengeance, and before you could truly stop to think about what you were doing, you were out of your seat and meeting merle halfway.

for a moment, the two of you simply stared at one another – merle seemed to be visually appreciating your body, whereas you were searching his for any sign of threat. the gun that had been holstered to his hip was absent, which slightly lowered his danger level in your eyes, but you weren’t about to let him any closer to carl or sophia.

just in case.

finally, after what felt like ages of staring one another down, merle spoke, his voice low and raspy.

“I just wanted’ta come find’ya and properly introduce myself. merle dixon.”

merle extended a large, somewhat grimy hand to you. after a moment’s consideration, you reached forward and gripped it with your own. you noticed that his hand was rough and littered with callouses. he was obviously no stranger to hard work.

“(y/n) grimes. am I correct to assume that you’re staying with us?”

you released your grip but merle had yet to let your hand go, holding it in his for the duration of a vocalized hum before letting it go.

“indeed, you are. see, yer man shane proposed an offer that my brother ‘n I simply couldn’ refuse.”

your heart throbbed inside your chest and your throat tightened. did that mean daryl was staying, too? completely oblivious to the slippery mental slope you were approaching, merle continued.

“so’s I figured tha’ since we’re goin’ta be proper campmates now, I’d come over and introduce myself; and giv’ya some of my true-earned gratitude.”

“gratitude?” you parroted, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. merle nodded slowly, almost sagely, and slipped his thumbs through the belt loops at his hips.

“yes, ma’am. had’ya not stepped in when’ya did, I’m afrai’ I prol’ly would’a lost my cool.” merle conceded with a sigh, and once more your walls shot up. you stood straighter and leveled the man with a glare. upon seeing your reaction, merle retracted his thumbs from his belt loops and raised his hands in a placating manner.

“woah, calm down. I wouldn’ta shot yer boy or anythin’. I mean, had he raised his gun firs’, that’d’be a diff’ren’ story. I was just meanin’ I feared it may’ave escalated had’ya not stepped in.”

you swallowed thickly and nodded just subtly; it was difficult for you to discern if merle was telling the truth or not, but his admission had brought about an iron-willed conviction inside you.

you would definitely keep your eye on merle dixon.

“well, there’s no thanks needed. no one would have wanted it to escalate; shane certainly wouldn’t have.” you said stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest in a protective manner. you ignored the way merle slipped his eyes down to the top of your breasts; you had some tits, you wouldn’t deny that. and as long as he kept his hands to himself, you didn’t see a reason to overreact.

“merle! git yer ass in gear an’ le’s go! we’re wastin’ daylight!”

your eyes were immediately drawn to the source of the new voice. biceps glistening and flexing with each step he took, angry scowl etched into his face, and the strap of his crossbow strangled in a white knuckled grip, he was a vision of pissed off. lori’s previous assertion of a crush had your cheeks flooding with heat as you watched daryl stalk closer.

by the time daryl finally stopped next to merle, your heart had created its own off-tune beat within your chest, and your cheeks felt hotter than the sun – but you pushed away everything you were feeling and gave the rugged, angry man a once-over. you already decided to keep an eye on merle, so you might as well go the extra mile and keep one on daryl, too.

you wouldn’t complain about having to do that.

it was as you were scanning his waistline that you noticed a familiar string of rope slipped through his belt loop. it was the same rope he’d knot multiple squirrels to, like he had the first day he entered camp.

“you’re going hunting?” you asked, halfway-conversationally, halfway with the intention of prompting that gravelly voice from daryl’s throat again.

except, it wasn’t daryl who answered. rather, he tore his eyes away from yours and focused on the foliage that lined the clearing, and merle spoke up in his stead.

“it’s our part of the bargain, darlin’. we keep you people fed, and we get stay here.”

you snapped your eyes back to merle in a vexed manner; if the man took notice of it, he didn’t respond to it other than with a slight widening of the smile on his face. you quickly pushed away your annoyance in favor of shifting your tone into something that could pass as amicable.

“well, good luck with that, then.”

it would be much easier to keep your eye on merle if there wasn’t any tension; keep your friends close and your potential enemies closer. that sort of thing.

“why, thank’ya, sugar, but I don’ thin’ we’ll need any’a tha’. daryl and me’s been in the woods since we was li’l.” merle drawled, inching himself closer to you. you resisted the urge to retreat, but you allowed yourself the lee-way of shrinking your arm back when merle extended a hand with the intention of grazing his fingers across your skin.

discomfort was burrowing deep into your body, but your ears nearly perked at the unintentional slip of information about the man you’d been wondering about for days. it was a fact that you could have surmised just by observing him, but the verbal confirmation of it had your brain thirsting for more.

it wasn’t because of a crush. it was only because of physical attraction; and of course physical attraction would lead to curiosity. of course.

at your clear rejection of touch, merle dropped his hand back down to his side, much to your relief. you were already connecting the dots on the type of person merle was just from this brief interaction, and though he wasn’t exactly coloring himself as a legitimate rapist, you determined that, from this point forward, you’d still do your best to ensure he’d never be alone with you or any other woman in the camp.

because this man was most certainly a pervert, at the very least.

“you should get going, dixon.” you murmured flippantly, casting a brief glance upward. “you’re wasting daylight.”

you thanked every invisible star in the sky that you were fast enough to catch the way daryl’s eyes shot to you as you parroted his previous words to his brother – it was such a quick glance that you were unable to ascertain what it meant, or if there was any interest hidden within, but your skin still tingled and your heart still tripped over itself when it happened.

but it wasn’t because of a goddamn crush.

mid-afternoon had melted to dusk before you could even register that that much time had passed.

the camp seemed so serene now; bathed in an orange glow, quieted, with multiple people milling about to the tune of cricket song, popping embers and whistling wind. the sun’s wavering strength granted a breath of chilly air, soothing the heat beneath your skin.

but even the cool, serene atmosphere of the camp couldn’t quell the storm raging inside your head; not as it normally would.

it was so stupid – you knew it was. and it wasn’t like yourself, either. there was no time for second guesses, not before and definitely not now.

and yet, it was a broken record. scratchy and choppy, set to an endless loop that frayed every single nerve within your body, the very embodiment of the sole goal of driving you absolutely insane with doubt.

crush.

crush.

the word taunted you, teased you, made you question everything; and it really shouldn’t. you knew it shouldn’t.

and you also knew with every fiber of your being that it was wrong – that lori was wrong. because you… you did not develop crushes. you never had. any relations you ever had with men were born of pure physical desire, with no underlying emotions.

you only ever felt physical attraction, lust, and want. it was familiar, it was comfortable, it was natural, it was you.

so why the hell were you second guessing the nature that you’d always harbored? the nature that had never changed, that never would change?

it was lori’s fault, plain and simple.

she was the reason you were thinking so much. all because she had uttered that one little word. and now you had to do something about it. you had to put a stop to it.

you zigzagged around multiple shoulders as you made your way across camp, bumping into some with muted apologies, absentmindedly, eyes rapidly scanning the crowd until you were able to finally locate lori. she was standing next to the rv that belonged to dale, engaged in some sort of indistinct conversation with the man – that was until you grabbed her wrist and pulled her off to the side, dragging her to the farthest reaches of the camp.

“(y/n), what’s going on–” lori attempted to prod you gently, but you cut her off by swinging around to face her.

“I just want to have sex with him!” you breathed out in a rush, surely resembling a wild, scared animal with the way your eyes darted around the camp. lori’s own eyes widened to the size of dinner plates whereas her eyebrows furrowed together.

“u-uhm, sure, y-yeah. you mean daryl, right?” lori pressed, and you nodded vigorously.

“yes, I mean him. I just wanted to make that clear, because earlier you said something about a crush, and I just want you to know that it’s not like that–”

why were you even explaining this? had you really gone off the deep end? had the end of the world finally rusted every last screw left in your brain?

“okay, okay, honey, I need you to breathe.” lori directed, softly, catching your hands in hers, adding, “what I said was only a joke. I know it’s not like that.”

relief sagged your shoulders as you let out a deep breath. you met lori’s gaze, still wide and confused and bewildered, and then everything crashed into you with the force of a derailed train.

you couldn’t stop it. you laughed. a full on belly laugh. because you were being so fucking ridiculous – and feeling highly embarrassed at the moment.

“god, I’m so stupid. I’m sorry lori, I don’t know why I’m even acting like this.”

lori let out a soft chuckle and released your hands. her eyes softened and the smile she wore was genuine; more genuine than you’d seen in a long time.

“you aren’t being stupid, (y/n). I think maybe you’re just feeling restless. anyone would if they were cooped up here all day, every day. I imagine it’s hard on you.”

lori wasn’t entirely wrong. before the world had went to shit, you were an adventurous spirit. you never much liked the idea of staying in one place – there was too much to explore, too much to see, too much to do – and you couldn’t even fathom not indulging in that, of not feeding the desire.

but this spirit of yours was the whole reason you weren’t there the day rick got shot, why it took you nearly a week to get to king county to visit his room; why a goodbye was rendered impossible.

but that wasn’t why you were acting this way; that you knew for a fact.

tears stung at the back of your eyes and, ever observant, lori pulled you into her chest and circled her arms around your waist. warmth bloomed across your front and the sweet scent of lori’s perfume, faded and floral, mixed with the scent of sweat and smoke clinging to her skin. the scent, despite being slightly odorous, sunk into your body and brought about extreme comfort. you bit back the sobs by sinking your teeth deep into your bottom lip and squeezed lori back tightly, shedding your silent tears into the welcoming jut of her collarbone as she shushed you softly.

you felt completely rattled – because it all suddenly made sense to you.

consuming yourself with lust over a stranger, worrying about the fate of that stranger, or even tearing yourself up inside over whether or not you actually had a crush on said stranger – it was far easier than letting reality take the wheel, far easier than accepting the fact that the life you had and the world you knew were both gone, sucked away into an endless black hole, never to be seen again.

and there was nothing you could do about it.

prologue | chapter two

a/n: if you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to more, please consider liking/commenting/reblogging/following, or maybe even get yourself added to the taglist! I love y’all so much! also, I’ve decided to switch some things around given the depth these chapters are given – some events were cut from this one and will be added into chapter 2 – which is when reader and daryl really start interacting!

NOTE: the dividers used in this post do not belong to me, nor did I create them. they come from this post, labeled under free-to-use. all credits go to the creator of the dividers.

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown @chylerluvschim @alialiclouds

[thoughtless-muse]

chapter summary: daryl dixon was everything you despised in a man: rude, unkempt, derisive, scornful and unarticulated. yet, daryl dixon was also everything you craved in a man: mysterious, rugged, self-sufficient, masculine, aloof, and much older than yourself. it was the worst sort of enigma to place yourself in, especially during the throes of a damn apocalypse – and yet here you were, fighting tooth and nail to try and get closer to the man who hadn’t even bothered to tell you his name himself.

word count: 3.6k

c/w: language, suggestive themes/thoughts, a bit dialogue heavy, younger!fem!reader, first meetings, older/younger, undisclosed age-gap, subtle bickering, instant attraction, brief allusions to death/loss, super minor angst (maybe?), pre-season one at the quarry camp

prologue: start of doomsday

being raised by a brother ten years your senior gave you ample time and experience to grow accustomed to being dubbed with various nicknames.

goob, goober, snot, shrimp, brat, princess – you’d heard all of those and many, many more. you had long since learned to let them bounce off of you, to simply roll with the flow and ignore them.

but when he’d given you a nickname, why, you simply couldn’t let it roll off your back; couldn’t stop yourself from replaying the exact moment he’d first called you it, couldn’t refrain from stewing over the way it had rolled – all gravelly, husky and derisive – off his tongue.

“well, ain’t’chu jus’ a doll, girly?”

doll.

he had called you a fucking doll.

and girly. as if you were some sort of child.

it was such a puerile thing to get hooked up on, something so trivial and immature – especially when compared to the more pressing concerns that you should be worrying about; such as the dead slobbering for your flesh and the dwindling food supplies within the camp.

maybe it was because when you had approached him you were just a hairs-width from a mental breakdown, the world nothing more than a mere crumble around you, and his rudeness acted as the straw that broke the camel’s back.

or maybe it was because you were simply trying to be nice, for fuck’s sake, and the moment he’d laid sight on you he decided he would harbor a personal vendetta against you, for no real reason other than he could – or wanted to.

you didn’t even know his name. and it had become painfully obvious that he’d taken great lengths to make sure no one in the camp did; when you’d approached shane about him moments after that fateful incident, shane had spared no more than a glance in the direction the man had stalked off in and shrugged.

“no idea who he is, really. he kinda just showed up.” was all shane had said, as if what had just transpired was trifling at best – and, deep down inside, you knew it was; a man copping an attitude with you was the least of shane’s worries, and it was petulant for you to expect him to place it above everything else that was already piled onto his platter, that it was stupid to expect him to do something about it as if he were a parent getting onto a child.

but you just couldn’t help it.

you hadn’t been able to help it for days.

those words rang through your head every time you saw him, sauntering around the camp with a scowl, lugging around that clunky crossbow like it was some sort of deterrent, like no one would be brave enough to approach him while he had it within his reach – it just flat-out irritated you.

you were only trying to be nice.

“I don’ need no damn help. I can find a tent jus’ fine!”

“prick.” you muttered under your breath, only realizing that you’d audibly expressed your distaste at the memory when a cool, damp hand gripped your bicep.

“you okay, (y/n)?” andrea asked softly, stroking her thumb over your skin soothingly. you shot the older woman a small smile, shirking off the irritation that had built under your skin from the mere thought of that man.

“yeah, yeah. I’m good, andrea. thanks.” you returned your focus to the bin of dirty laundry you had abandoned in favor of recounting sore memories and began to scrub near-viciously. this happened a lot, too, when you thought about him. the thoughts would pop up unprompted, and then everything else would fade away into mere white noise – you were sure it was incredibly frustrating for those who shared your assigned tasks each day.

andrea hummed softly and uncurled her fingers from your bicep to return her hand to her own basin once more. silence fell over the group of women washing clothes at the lakeside, nothing but the cries of forest birds, rippling water and churning splashes against the walls of multiple basins acting as a melody to the activity.

that was, until amy spoke up, her voice airy and strained by amusement that she tried to desperately to conceal. “so, uh, who’s a prick?”

you whipped your head over to glare at amy as muted giggles arose around you, and she vehemently avoided your eyes lest the smile teasing at her lips grew into a full on grin. heat flared over your cheeks and you blew out a puff of hot air, equal parts embarrassed and irritated that you were caught angrily musing over that man red-handed. again.

“no one.” you stated simply, voice weak even to your own ears; and with the way amy’s shoulders began to tremble with contained laughter, you knew she had picked up the lack of conviction within your tone as well.

she just knew you too well.

you had met the harrison sisters the morning after the bombing of atlanta. they had been among the group of people that shane had led to the quarry. amy was sociable, nice, and outgoing, fluttering around the camp and offering bottled water and protein bars to everyone around her. close in age, you’d clicked with her almost instantly, drawn in by her bubbly personality and likeness to yourself; the two of you had been nearly inseparable since, and you even considered her to be a best friend despite the fact that you’d met her only a little over a week ago – falling in with andrea seemed all but inevitable, and you couldn’t say you hated that.

andrea was more reserved than amy was, but no less kind. you weren’t sure if it was a facet of her personality or simply because she had seen the bond forming between amy and yourself, but andrea had, at some point, taken you beneath her wing and treated you as if you were an extension of her own family – it was comforting, but in some ways, it made your heart ache.

because you’d had that once before; had it in the form of broad shoulders, dark hair, blue eyes, and a voice of reason that could talk down even the most insane of serial killers.

you’d had it in the form of rick, ten years your senior and your best friend, tied to you by more than just shared blood.

“I’m serious,” you pressed, smiling through the sudden onslaught of ache within your chest. “I wasn’t talking about anyone.”

“okay.” amy responded simply, dragging out the ‘y’ in way that conveyed exactly how much she believed you in that instant. you chuckled lowly and shook your head, willing the pain in your chest to ebb away quickly, before it swelled to something too big to contain; a knot was forming in your throat, one that had become far too familiar within the past couple weeks, and swallowing it down was growing harder and harder.

amy’s attempt at prodding fell to silence again, one that the others seemed content in, completely ignorant to the turmoil roiling within you. the silence acted as a catalyst rather than a balm, an overwhelming force that prompted the small cut in your chest into a growing chasm, and in a desperate attempt to strike conversation and sow it back up, you said, “I was talking about that guy with the crossbow.”

laughter erupted around you – the first painful stitch. amy nudged you with her elbow with a light guffaw – the second stitch, a little less painful than the first.

“yeah, I kinda figured as much.” andrea acknowledged with a laugh. “you’ve been in knots over him ever since he first showed up.” the third stitch, nearly painless.

“I have not!” you rebuked, even though a small part of you knew it was true. the man had simply waltzed into camp one day, a string of squirrels thrown over one shoulder and his crossbow slung over the other, a scowl on his face and body covered in filth and grime. sweat glistened across his brow and over the skin of his exposed biceps, and when he spoke, it was with a southern drawl that had drawn you in nearly instantly.

he was attractive as hell, at least he was to you – you became instantly overwhelmed by the desire to talk to him, to know him, to get closer in some way; but perhaps you should have observed him a bit more before practically cornering him and offering your help. maybe then you would have been able to foresee his reaction, and you wouldn’t be in this torn-up state in the first place.

“he is a bit of a prick, though.” amy conceded. “I think the only reason shane allows him to stay is because he can hunt.”

that chasm had been successfully sewn up by now, but the flesh around it was still achy and sore, sensitive to any prod and poke. you’d have to tread carefully to avoid reopening it, at least for now.

“I’m sure he’s got other skills.” you weren’t sure why you were defending the man after just insulting him and stewing over him, but for some reason, it irked you for him to be likened to as a one-trick pony. maybe it was simply the cursed attraction you had to him.

“and I’m more than certain you’d love to figure out just what those other skills are.” jacqui, who had been stationed furthest from you, piped up for the first time. your mouth popped open, your eyes widened, and heat flared to your face while the others erupted into laughter. amy’s laugh was the most notable, loud and boisterous, and despite the slight mortification you felt at jacqui’s suggestive (but true) statement, you found yourself laughing along.

you wondered just how obvious you must have been about your attraction to the man for even jacqui to have noticed; you didn’t talk much with her, but when you’re sequestered into a camp fending for your lives against the walking dead, you supposed it was only natural to pick up on things about the people around you.

had the man noticed it, too?

after all, you had, without a doubt, noticed things about him; things that no one would notice unless they had their eyes on him a little too much.

you noticed the small things that made him attractive; the subtle age lines around his eyes and lips, the creases along his forehead, the bags beneath his bottom lids, the semi-permanent frown fixed upon his face.

you noticed the things about him that stirred your gut, that pooled heat between your legs and brought about carnal arousal within you; the broad width of his shoulders, the way those shirts with the cut-off sleeves framed and accentuated his biceps and torso, those small glimpses that his pants sometimes gave you of his package, the way he sauntered around, glaring at everyone, cold and unapproachable – like a dark, gloomy castle just waiting to be turned into someone’s conquest.

most of all, you noticed the clear difference in age between the two of you – fuck… it had to be at least ten years, right? if you were lucky, it may even be larger than that.

your gut twisted with the familiar sensation of arousal and your sex throbbed between your legs, prompting you to close your thighs together in an attempt to stop it. or maybe get some friction, you weren’t sure.

this was becoming a big, big problem.

“(y/n)! aunt (y/n)!”

a shrill, childish voice called out to you from the gravel road yards from the lake, effectively dousing the low-burning embers in your belly. you whipped your head back and cupped a hand over your eyes to shield them from the sun. you smiled widely at the approaching form of carl, your one and only nephew, and discarded the wet shirt in your hand in favor of turning your entire body to face the boy.

“hey, carl! what’s up?” you questioned the exuberant child when he halted just feet away from you, panting heavily and dowsed in sweat. you reckoned he must have run all the way here from the camp. what an energetic youth.

“there’s something going down in camp. shane’s fighting with this weird guy! he has a gun!”

your heart tripped over itself and you quickly rose to your feet, shooting a hand out to grip carl by the shoulder and draw him closer. a threat of this magnitude hadn’t shown face in the camp yet, and despite the fact that it wasn’t within your jurisdiction to handle matters such as these, you couldn’t push down the instinct to do so.

“amy, could you finish up my part, please?” you asked kindly, sending the young blonde a pleading look from over your shoulder. she nodded and reached over to pull your basin closer to her, throwing a cheery “you owe me!” at your back and prompting a chuckle from your throat. uneasy murmurs had broken about amongst the women at the lake, though amy seemed unbothered by the same circumstances, focused completely on her task where as the others had slowed to a distracted crawl.

“yeah, I do, thanks. okay carl, take me to camp.” you ordered the boy, who nodded and shrugged your hand from his shoulder before dashing forward, kicking up dust from beneath his heels.

you swallowed down the command for carl to slow down that swelled in your throat and instead picked up your pace; if it was true that shane was currently grappling with someone, you couldn’t waste any time on chastising carl or slowing the pace. you had to get to camp to de-escalate the situation if it called for it.

by the time carl had broken through the foliage around the camp, your ears picked up the unmistakable rumble of shane’s voice; it held that same stern yet soft tone that he used when talking to criminal suspects – you’d been there when he’d done it before.

“… just hand me the gun and tell me your name, and we can get this all sorted.”

“I ain’t handin’ya my gun, pretty boy.” this voice was different; rugged and hoarse and dry, as if the owner of it had just chain-smoked a whole pack of cigarettes. “alls I’m lookin’ fer is my brother. I don’ have any other business with ya.”

shane sighed heavily just as you broke through the green shrubbery surrounding the east side of the camp. his hands were glued to his hips, lips pursed and eyes narrowed in annoyance at the man a few feet in front of him. when carl had first mentioned a gun, you worried that the man may have been pointing it at the ex-officer, or others; but it was instead holstered at the man’s hip, untouched and non-threatening.

“look, man, I get that. I don’t think you’re gonna hurt anybody; but we’ve got women and children here, and you’re a stranger with a gun. I can’t take any chances. I’m sure you understand.” shane coaxed further, removing a hand from his hip and extending an open palm to the man. the man glared down at shane’s hand but made no further movement; he didn’t reach for his gun, nor did he shift his feet at all, hell, you couldn’t even tell if the man was breathing at this point. but it was obvious this man wasn’t a threat – but if shane continued to pester him this way, he very well could become one; and with carl right next to you, that was a chance you couldn’t take.

shane huffed loudly and you saw his fingers twitch, as if he were barely holding back from striking at the man. you swallowed down your trepidation and pushed carl back, clearing your throat subtly before marching right up next to shane to confront the man.

“what’s your brother’s name? maybe we can help you find him; if he’s here.”

two pairs of eyes simultaneously snapped to you – one pair dark and narrowed in a harsh glare and the other quickly lighting up with barely-concealed interest. the stranger, a man with a buzz cut and wiry face, smiled widely at you, the tip of a pink tongue slipping just barely from between his lips as his eyes trailed your body. you pushed away the shiver that threatened to crawl up your spine and held the man’s gaze confidently until he was done with his blatant show of lewd conduct.

when his eyes met yours once more, there was a coy, feline smirk upon his lips, and his croaky voice had dropped a few octaves when he responded, “daryl. his name is daryl.”

for a moment, you sat silent, gnawing on your inner cheek and wracking your brain for just who ‘daryl’ could be. you didn’t know the names of every person in camp, but that list of unknowns was short – only three people. your heart constricted. could it be?

“so, your brother’s name is daryl. what’s yours?” shane piped up, voice edged with aggravation, as he rocked back on his heels and slipped his thumbs through his belt loops. the stranger’s eyes never left your body as he opened his mouth to respond, but the voice that echoed back didn’t belong to him.

“merle? what’d’ya think yer doin’ here?”

you didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know who the shambling footsteps behind you belonged to. your stomach twisted in on itself when a warm hand pushed you aside by the thick of your bicep, not too roughly but enough to have you stumbling slightly, the contact brief but enough to leave tingles in its wake. you glanced at the man between yourself and shane, taking note of the grimace on his face as he stared down the stranger.

the stranger, merle, took no heed to the glares that were fixed upon him. he smiled widely and threw his arms out as if expecting a hug.

“baby brother! isn’t it obvious? I’m here lookin’ fer ya.”

“you know him?” shane inquired, jerking his head in merle’s direction, eyes locked on the man between the two of you.

the man – daryl, as you now knew – shuffled on his feet and cast his eyes to the side, giving shane a brief once over. after that, daryl returned his eyes to merle and nodded.

“yeah. tha’s my brother.”

shane ran a shaky hand through his hair and chuckled hotly, muttering something underneath his breath. trepidation fluttered in your gut. you’d known shane long enough to know exactly what those mannerisms of his meant, and it didn’t spell anything good. you had a bad feeling shane was about to say something either highly stupid or highly impulsive; more than likely something that was both of those things at the same time.

“y’know, I don’t really have a problem with you, daryl. I never have. but this” – shane gestured to merle, who was still standing with his arms extended and that wide smile on his face – “is a bit dangerous. when you came here, you didn’t tell us jack about you; we didn’t know who you were, where you came from, or who you knew. and I didn’t bother to ask.”

daryl hadn’t moved a single inch since shane began speaking, eyes still fixed on merle, but the discomfort was plain as day on his face, and you felt irritation begin to bubble hot beneath your skin. granted, daryl was a haughty, antisocial prick, but why was shane acting like he did something wrong?

“I mean, this is just–”

“what’s your point, shane?” you cut the man off, a bit rudely, turning a sharp-eyed glare to him past daryl’s chest. shane’s eyes widened fractionally as if he hadn’t expected you to interject yourself, yet again, into a matter that he was handling on his own.

“my point is that daryl put us all in danger.” shane pressed, lowly, with a hand wave towards merle and dark eyes glaring daggers into yours. “we don’t know him, and we don’t know his brother. for all we know, merle could have stormed into camp, gun blazing-”

“but he didn’t.” you rebuked impatiently. you crossed your arms over your chest and tilted your head subtly to the side. “and that’s a risk that comes with everyone in the camp. we don’t know anyone here, other than each other. and even so, you haven’t seen me in three years. I may as well be a stranger, too.”

“that’s different. you’re like a little sister to me.” shane rebutted, prompting an eye roll and hip jut from you. you wouldn’t consider shane a brother even if he’d spent every moment of your youth with you. you swallowed down that statement in favor of keeping yourself on track with the real issue at hand.

“my point still stands. nothing bad happened, so why don’t you just cool your jets and back off a bit?”

shane’s lips thinned into a line, dark eyes darting between you, daryl and merle a couple times before he heaved a great sigh.

“okay, fine, you’re right. nothing happened. but I’d still like to have a conversation with both of you, if that’s alright.” shane conceded, directing his final statement at the two brothers still locked in a stare down. daryl only gave the tiniest of nods to display that he’d even acknowledged shane’s statement, and, satisfied with the knowledge that tensions had been quelled, you turned on your heel to head back to the lake and check on the progress of the laundry.

unbeknownst to you, the event that had just transpired would turn out to be the catalyst to a soon-to-come tension between shane and yourself, as well as the act that had garnered you a modicum of respect and interest from the rude, attractive man that you were sure would never even notice you; and that little problem that you thought was becoming much too big was only going to grow larger, and very quickly.

chapter one

a/n: tbh I struggled a bit with this one. it is just a prologue, a means of setting up the deeper story, but I still wanted it to come out as good as possible, and I feel I didn’t quite articulate that. but before this finalized version, I went through at least three drafts before finding this one to be somewhat adequate. if you guys enjoyed this one nonetheless, please show it some love! if you’re looking forward to more updates, consider following or being added to the taglist!

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown

[thoughtless-muse]

|| daryl dixon blurb: breeding – 18+

daryl is absolutely obsessed with the thought of breeding you.

he thinks about it all the time, even though he shouldn’t.

he thinks about it when he watches you interact with judith, your voice soft and eyes even softer. daryl can’t help but think of what an amazing momma you’d make in those moments.

he thinks about it when the two of you eat, mind wandering to what you’d crave while carrying his child. would your love for sweets fade, or would it grow stronger? would your distaste for fatty meats turn to insatiable desire for them? would you cling to his arm and beg him to go hunt down a buck so that he could make you hundreds of helpings of his deer jerky that you love?

daryl thinks about it when he watches you flit about the house, imagines your flat little tummy swollen with his spawn, carrying his legacy. imagines the way you’d waddle around, skin glowing and face beaming, a hand on your tummy as you gush to others about the miracle growing within. about how happy you are, how content and whole you feel with the newest little addition to the dixon family mere weeks away from arriving.

daryl thinks about it when he’s buried inside your warm, pliant cunt. when his heavy, full, aching balls are slapping against your ass, begging to fill your little pussy with his seed.

the mental image of his spend swimming straight through to your uterus has him growling against your sweaty skin. the thought of it fills him with such carnal pleasure that it takes him to the brink in near seconds every time, his hard cock leaking and throbbing against your mushy, gooey walls.

daryl doesn’t know that you notice it. he thinks your completely ignorant to it. that he’s hiding it.

he doesn’t realize that you do see it. you see it every time you meet his eyes while you’re with judith. that you see the way they soften, that you can practically see the thoughts flitting through his head just from his eyes alone.

he doesn’t realize that you know the way he looks at you; that you see the way his eyes will trail down to rest on your tummy – the way that they’ve been doing so more and more frequently.

and daryl doesn’t know that he’s already expressed his desire. that he’s expressed it late at night, while his cock is bruising your cervix and his lips are mouthing at your neck. he doesn’t realize that you can hear him as he pants, as he whispers, as he begs you to “just get pregnant, just get pregnant” over and over again, only to pull his cock out at the last second and spray your skin with sticky warmth and a few mumbled curses.

daryl doesn’t know that you know he wants it – or that you want it just as badly.

a/n: I’ve got a dirty little secret and that’s that I have an enormous breeding/impregnation kink, and the thought of daryl having one too just drives me absolutely fucking feral. that feralness is what inspired this blurb. if you liked this content, please consider leaving a like/reblog/comment, and if you’d like to see more from me, please consider following or joining the taglist!

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown

[thoughtless-muse]

“scout’s honor,” [series]

|| daryl dixon x fem!reader

SUMMARY: daryl dixon was everything you despised in a man: rude, unkempt, derisive, scornful and unarticulated. yet, daryl dixon was also everything you craved in a man: mysterious, rugged, self-sufficient, masculine, aloof, and much older than yourself. it was the worst sort of enigma to place yourself in, especially during the throes of a damn apocalypse – and yet here you were, fighting tooth and nail to try and get closer to the man who hadn’t even bothered to tell you his name himself.

GENRES: angst, romance, fluff, slow-burn, hurt/comfort, smut

RATING: 18+, adult only

C/W: ricks!sister!reader, fem!reader, typical TWD violence/gore, slow-burn, grief, depression, unsettling themes, blood, injuries, trauma, alcohol/alcoholism, tobacco use, language, explicit sexual content, allusions/brief attempts at SA, suspense, more to be added

TOTAL CHAPTERS: 2/?

CURRENT WORDCOUNT: 7.8k

TOTAL WORDCOUNT: to be determined…

A/N: this series is going to closely follow the structure of the show, but will have minor and major adjustments to the events. I’m not sure how far I’m going to take this little series, though I do know that I’ll be spending quite a bit of time in seasons one and two, and I have plans to venture into the further seasons as well (I currently just started the 8th season). I hope you all can enjoy this adventure with me!

prologue: start of doomsday

chapter one: dislocated introductions

chapter two: buy me a drink, then we’ll talk history

chapter three: shane walsh is a grade-a dickbag

chapter four: back from the dead

chapter five: the city to ash, a full speed dash

[note: these titles are not hyperlinked because the installments are yet to come. I’m working on the drafts at the moment, and they will be posted in order once finished.] [more to come]

[thoughtless-muse]

|| sneak-peeks

nothing yet…

|| one-shots…

nothing yet…

|| 5+1 drabbles…

“for whom the tongue craves to taste,” (18+)

|| mini-series…

nothing yet…

|| multi-chaptered/novel-esque…

scout’s honor – (18+) [on-going]

bad blood – (18+) [on-going]

|| requests… (they are open!)

nothing yet…

|| headcanons…

nothing yet…

|| blurbs…

breeding (18+)

|| misc.

nothing yet…

DISCLAIMER: this blog was created from my thirst/desire for daryl dixon, and therefore all content (one-shots, blurbs, drabbles, headcanons, series, etc) revolves around him. I also write exclusively for fem!reader. this blog is intended for adult consumption primarily. 18+ posts will be tagged appropriately. please enjoy <333

[thoughtless-muse]

“for whom the tongue craves to taste,” [d.d]

“the cdc showers”

a/n: quick disclaimer – this is actually just a snippet of a larger piece that I’m putting together (a smutty 5+1 prompt, five times daryl made you cum, and the one time he let you return the favor) but as it’s my first real attempt at smut, I wanted to post this as a means to garner some constructive criticism before finishing the piece. If you’d be so kind to read and lmk your thoughts/critiques, I’d really appreciate it!

EDIT: I know it’s not how the majority of 5+1 prompts are done, but I’ve decided to post each segment as they are finished. I just think it’s an easier/less stressful method for me, so I hope you guys don’t mind the posting choice. the posts will be linked together for easier access.

the cdc showers – arrow mishaps lead to frisky fun – ever done it in a loft? – cold iron bars – the watchtower – I want a taste, too

c/w: explicit sexual content, cunnilingus, shower cunnilingus, tongue fucking, fingering, language, dirty talk, undisclosed age gap, 18+

word count: 2.4k

that morning, had anyone scooped you off to the side and told you that mere hours after arriving at the pipe-dream that was the CDC you’d be corralled into a hot shower with none other than daryl dixon squished between your thighs, you’d have laughed straight in their face and directed them towards the nearest mental institution – not that that would do anyone much good, given the state of things; but had anyone declared a statement that outrageous, you’d have thought their mind already gone, much like the drooling, shuffling, decaying bodies wandering the earth.

yet here you were, a steady jet of hot water battering the sore muscles of your back, liquor-laden torso slightly slumped, thighs spread open by broad shoulders and daryl dixon’s wicked tongue licking your little cunny straight to nirvana.

how the fuck did you even end up here, anyway?

it was so uncharacteristic of you – you knew next to nothing about daryl dixon. he was simply a mutual stranger. you’d never even had more than a few fleeting conversations with the man, for fuck’s sake; if you could even call them that. daryl was brusque and wholly unapproachable, and his attitude left a lot to be desired. due to his unpleasantness, you’d opted to keep your distance and observe rather than to interact. to be completely honest, you’d been more judgmental rather than observant of the man before, back at the quarry, internally critiquing his sour attitude, accent and frayed clothes; and, shamefully, even at times presuming that he was some forty year old virgin that had been holed up in his mother’s basement before the world went to shit – but, fuck, were you ever wrong.

maybe he was forty, maybe he had been holed up in his mother’s basement, who the fuck knows, but he sure as fuck wasn’t a virgin – at least, his tongue wasn’t. the way he moved it, fucked it into you, made a mess of you with it, there was no way he wasn’t experienced with it.

you let out a loud, trembling gasp when daryl suddenly broke his tender tongue-flicks to slide his teeth gently against your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

okay, fuck, scratch that. he was experienced with his whole mouth.

unlike the few other men you’d allowed to taste the heaven between your legs, daryl used his entire lower face to devour you – his tongue was the star of the show, of course, but his lips, nose and chin made a hell of a supporting cast. when his tongue was busy fucking your walls, his nose was right against your clit in its place, his head shaking side to side, applying just enough pressure to bring you pleasure but not enough to stimulate you into orgasm; and then, as if he could simply innately sense when you were becoming desperate for more, his tongue would slip from your hole and return to your clit once more, circling and flicking it with expert movements, quickly bringing you right back to that sweet precipice.

how long had he been at it?

the water wasn’t cold yet – or maybe your body was just too hot to register that it was; but with the amount of times that daryl had built then robbed you of your orgasm, you drunkenly surmised that it had to of been a good fifteen minutes. any other man would have tapped out from exhaustion already.

of course, there were times when his tongue would get tired, but even then, unlike your previous lovers, he seemed loathe to leave you without any contact – he would alternate between giving your clit chaste little kisses and moving his lips against your entire cunt as if it were a second mouth that he was intent on claiming; then, when his tongue was rested enough, he would dive right back into devouring you.

it was absolutely wrecking you, in the best and worst ways.

maybe it was simply the affects of the alcohol swimming through your veins that fed you the illusion of this being the best damn head you’d ever received; maybe it was because you certainly didn’t have a lot of other experiences to compare it to; or maybe it was the warmth that came with the comfort of hot water and a full stomach that made it so much better – either way, you were almost at the brink now, again, thighs quaking with the effort of holding your body upright and staving off your impending orgasm; you knew daryl would more than likely take it away if he sensed it, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that.

“oh, god,” you hissed out when daryl flattened his tongue against your clit, flicking it with short, harsh movements, before slipping it down to part your folds and lick up your slit. he transitioned between the repetitive movements at a near imperceptible speed, without ever having to trade out accuracy and rhythm for it. it was a dangerous cocktail of pleasure that had you damn near seeing stars. each harsh swipe of his tongue against your clit sent zips of electricity up your spine, and built a familiar tension within your gut.

“ya like tha’, sweetheart?” daryl parted from your cunt just enough to inquire huskily, his voice so low that you barely even managed to catch it over the volume of the hissing spray. you nearly whined at the loss of his tongue, and, rather than answer his question, which you could hardly even decipher at the moment, you reached a hand down to tangle your fingers into the short hair at his nape, using what leverage you had to push his head forward until the tip of his nose brushed against your sensitive clit once more.

“no, d-don’t – don’t talk…” you slurred out, tugging at his hair insistently and pulling a deep, rumbling chuckle from the man below you.

“some manners you have,” daryl drawled, but to your delight, returned his tongue to your slit, parting your wet folds and slipping it past the rim of your tight entrance. your fingers twitched against his nape as you released a high, airy sigh, and your hips began to move of their own accord, humping your cunt against his face and pulling even more vibrating vocalizations from his throat. you just wanted firmer friction, damn it.

your stomach was stirring, tight, that pressure slowly mounting. it felt fucking good, the way he was thrusting and wiggling his tongue against your gummy walls, fucking you with the thick muscle, his nose bumping into your clit and sending subtle jolts up your spine, and those vibrations and sounds, fuck! – but it just wasn’t enough. you needed something different, something more.

“do… do what you were doing before…” you requested breathlessly, hips trembling, fingers digging into the skin of his nape in desperation. “‘m so close, daryl… just need more.”

the thought of keeping your impending orgasm away from his awareness seemed to have slipped away in the midst of the tremulous pleasure he was bringing you, and maybe you shouldn’t have let the information out, but you were so desperate. your tummy was so fucking tight, that coil winding and winding to a painful climax, and holding it in just seemed impossible, you needed to let it go – and at the moment, the only way you could possibly reach orgasm was through daryl.

daryl flicked his eyes up to meet yours, and though your vision was a bit hazy from the steam and alcohol, you swore the man was smirking up at you from within your cunt. daryl was silent for a moment, all movements against your cunny paused, before he leaned back slightly and said, lowly, “why don’ I do somethin’ better, instead?”

before your drunk, horny, fuddled mind could truly decipher his words daryl was in motion; his warm hand gripped the back of your knee, bending your leg easily and hoisting it atop his shoulder – distantly, you registered a strange sensation against the skin of your calf (was that a shirt? was daryl fully clothed right now?) – and once your leg was stabilized, he skirted the fingers of his other hand up your other leg, the one that was still planted to the floor of the shower.

his fingertips grazed your knee, then the plush flesh of your thigh, before reaching between your hips. you jumped slightly when you felt the pad of his finger run over your slit, the thick digit parting your folds smoothly, the tip dipping ever so subtly into your entrance every so often. like he was testing the waters, or something.

“d-daryl, what are you doing?” you inquired, heart tripping over itself, apprehension twisting in your gut for the first time since he’d invited himself into your shower and initiated this whole thing.

wait, had he invited himself? or did you do that?

you couldn’t remember.

“shh, jus’ trus’ me, sweetheart. This’s gon’ blow yer mind.” daryl responded back, calmly, warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit as he spoke. your breath shuddered in your lungs, but any further objections died in your throat when daryl’s hot tongue met your sex, circling, flicking, flattening, devouring – his pace was much faster and firmer than before, the pleasure much more intense than what had previously been given.

“o-oh, fuck! daryl!” you moaned, your hand sliding up from his nape to the crown of his head, fingers fisting into his hair to hold his head still as you rutted your hips forward to meet his skilled tongue.

“shit, that’s it, baby,” daryl panted, muffled, into the slick heat of your cunt, tongue drawing lazy circles between his words. “jus’ fuckin’ lose it. use my tongue, sweetheart.”

it felt so fucking good. it felt like your cunt was melting right into daryl’s mouth, searing hot and drippy, sloppy, coating his lips, jaws, nose, and neck with copious amounts of your arousal – all the while daryl growled, groaned, and moaned as he slurped it down, as if it was the very nectar of life itself.

your gut felt like it would burst – at any moment, with any flick of his tongue, in time with any of those vibrating groans, you’d be exploding all over daryl’s face, releasing every single ounce of the pent-up arousal daryl had inflicted upon your body over the last fifteen minutes in a single second.

“daryl, daryl, god, yes… fuck, don’t stop… don’t s-stop.”

you continued to repeat those words, falling like a river from your mouth, a mantra that seemed to keep you grounded as daryl’s tongue threatened to send you floating away –

a sound akin to a scream bubbled in your throat when daryl suddenly slipped two of his thick fingers into your cunt; the sensation was far from unpleasant but far too close to overwhelming – and when he began to pump them in time with the flicks of his tongue, and curled them just so on every outward pull, scraping against something at the top of your gummy walls, you simply couldn’t hold it in.

your entire body locked up, muscles freezing as your lips fell open to release mute moans, both hands now swinging down to grip daryl’s hair.

those silent moans you were releasing quickly morphed into loud, wanton, downright sinful vocalizations as daryl pumped his fingers into your cunt, still rubbing that sweet spot, fingerfucking you through your high and bringing stars to your eyes. you pressed daryl’s head impossibly closer to your cunt, humping whatever you could and burying his fingers deeper inside your walls with desperate, short, shaky movements, releasing a litany of his name and curses in between breathy pants and moans.

when the waves of your high had begun to recede, you slowed your hips until they came to a complete stop, your chest heaving from the deep lungfuls of steamy air you pulled in. your body felt incredibly fuzzy, your mind pleasantly foggy; but your body, and everything else, felt too hot, too cramped, too everything, and when daryl decided to give your throbbing, sensitive clit one last tiny flick of his tongue, you damn near smacked him in the head.

if only your arms would move.

a small gasp was pulled from your lips when daryl slipped his fingers from your sloppy cunt, the friction against your sensitive walls almost enough to have your entire body seizing, and it was only when daryl lifted his hands up to grip your wrists were you able to disentangle your fingers from his hair; only with his help, of course.

daryl then grasped the plump flesh of your thigh, the one that was still tossed over his shoulder, and pulled it down slowly, not releasing his hold until your foot was planted firmly on the wet floor of the tub.

when your balance was secured daryl scuttled back from between your legs, and when he’d rose to a standing position, his chest now centimeters from your own (which you distantly realized was bare) you couldn’t help but stumble backwards until your back hit the cold wall. your lids felt incredibly heavy, and exhaustion gnawed insistently at your muscles; but through the fog, you were able to register daryl, who was indeed fully clothed, the fabric of his shirt and jeans soaked and clinging to his body like a second skin – and you were certain that was a smirk on his lips.

a smirk that said he knew he had just blown your mind, even if you would never admit it to him.

it seemed as though your orgasm had sobered you up a bit, because when daryl sidled up to you, right beneath the harsh spray, and placed his large hands on your naked hips, you were able to lift your hands and plant them on his chest. he didn’t attempt to move closer to you, but his hands didn’t fall from your hips either; and when he spoke, his voice was chock-full of cockiness that you found simultaneously alluring and irritating.

“if ya ever want yer mind blown again, ya know where to find me.”

with that, daryl slipped his hands from your hips and turned, ripped open the shower curtain with little effort and then stepped out, as if he hadn’t just performed an intimate act on you. water dripped noisily against the linoleum floor as he stalked away, and, not one to give up the chance at having the last word, you croaked out,

“in your dreams, dixon.”

the only thing you got in reply was a haughty chuckle, echoing into the bathroom from somewhere within the quarters you’d claimed for the night.