sweetpeadixon - Tumblr blog

sweetpeadixon · 1 year

Note

#23: “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m glad it’s with you.” Daryl Dixon x Plus Size Reader. I see this going two ways, either it's about them being in a relationship, or one is teaching the other how to do something, and fluff ensues. Congrats on your milestone!

Thank you for your request! I was so excited to write for Daryl and I really hope you enjoy it and that I did him justice 🥺💚

Warnings: Mentions of zombies? I mean it's a TWD fic, I guess that's implied 😂 brief panic attack.

Word Count: 1,209

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

It was clear as day that Daryl did not fit in. Since the moment the group set foot in Alexandria, he stuck out like a sore thumb, constantly on the receiving end of uneasy stares and hushed whispers.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be adjusting like a duck to water. You'd relished in the relief that the hot shower brought you, giving you momentary peace from the horrors that you knew were lurking just beyond the walls. You talked to the other residents as if they were old friends, engaging in easy small talk from the get go.

Daryl didn't understand how it was so easy for you. Most of the group seemed at least slightly wary and uncomfortable about their new surroundings, but you went about as if the world outside these walls no longer existed. It was bizarre for him to see you the way you might have been before the world crumbled and every day became a fight for survival.

The welcome party brought about new feelings of unease for Daryl. His life before wasn't much different from his life now, albeit with less undead and fighting for his life. He had still been an outsider. Never welcomed by society. Left to fend for himself, along with his brother, hunting for what they needed. His family may have grown, but outside of those he held dear he still felt every bit the outsider he always had.

You had pleaded with him to join you tonight. Begged him and promised that it wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would. He had only scoffed, grunting sharp "No." He had faulted slightly when he saw your slumped shoulders and sad face. But he didn't need to go to a party to be reminded that he wasn't wanted here, that he didn't fit in here. Not like you.

He wouldn't admit just how much it hurt to see how well you were fitting in here. He saw the looks he received from the residents of the walled off town, heard the whispered comments about him when they thought they were too far away to be heard. The last thing he wanted was for you to be ostracized for your relationship with him. Not that there was a relationship, much as he longed for one with you. Longed to hold you close, to kiss you and wake up with you every morning. He knew he was just a no good redneck, not good enough for someone as kind and loving as you, so he kept those feelings to himself. Satisfied to simply have you in his life, loving you from afar and keeping you safe from harm.

Daryl's eyes grew wide as he saw you walk out of the house, leaving the party early. At first all he could see were your legs. Sure he had seen you in shorts before, when the weather had become unbearable last summer. But normally you covered up. Uncomfortable in your own skin, hiding your curves behind oversized t-shirts and flannel shirts, whatever loose fitting clothes you would find on your scavenges.

Tonight though, you were wearing a dress and Daryl's brain just about shut down. It was a pastel shade of yellow, thin straps pulling the flowing fabric tight against your chest. But what drew his attention most was the way it stopped mid-thigh, your legs almost fully on show. The light breeze made the hemline float higher exposing your thick thighs to him, leaving his palms clammy and his heart racing.

He's ashamed to say it took him too long to pull his eyes away from your body in order to take notice of your demeanour. The way you hurried as you walked away from the house, hands roughly running through your hair, you even looked like you were talking harshly to yourself as you made your way to the waterside.

Daryl let you take a moment, hoping you would be able to calm yourself and worried that his presence might startle you. But the longer you sat the hasher your breaths became.

Within seconds he was sitting directly in front of you. Taking both your hands in his calloused ones, he pulled your eyes solely onto him.

"Breathe f'me." His voice ushered in the darkness. Away from the bright lights and loud chattering of the house you felt a calm begin to wash over you. Daryl's gravelly voice helped to anchor you back, drifting away from the panic that had risen in your chest.

When your breathing seemed to settle, Daryl sat back, letting go of your hands but resting them on your ankles instead. He had a way of always touching you in a subtle way, just to make sure you knew he was there. It was comfort to you in a world where comfort was hard to come by and often overlooked in place of safety.

"Thought you liked it 'ere." He shrugged as he spoke, not quite looking in your eyes.

"It's got walls. It's safe. I'm trying, you know. But it's not what I know anymore. It's too similar to before and what if it all falls apart again?" You feel the panic slowly trying to rise again. You fight to tamper it down, focusing on the feel of those rough hands circling your bare ankles.

"Then we face it t'gether." Daryl spoke with unwavering certainty. He would do everything within the realm of possibility to ensure you were always together.

"In what way together?" Your voice trembled just slightly, but Daryl was quick to notice it. He always noticed the small things, the quirks and ticks that no one else saw.

He didn't speak, but he looked questioningly at you. Giving your ankles a soft squeeze to encourage you to continue.

"Daryl, I-I like you. You're brash and rude, but you're also kind and you protect the people you love." You take a deep breath, "I'm not good at relationships, never had one that lasted before. But we basically act like we're already together, I just, I don't know if that's what you want. It is what I want though, if you'd have me."

With your eyes locked on his, he can see the beginnings of unshed tears forming. You're waiting desperately for his response. Worried that you may have ruined the thing that you are most grateful for in this undead world. It had been mere seconds when he finally answered, but to you it felt like hours.

"'m already yours." He gave you his shy smile, unruly hair matted against his face, reminding you that he still hadn't showered since arriving. Uncaring you crawl forwards to kneel in front of him, your face only inches away from his.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Daryl, but I'm glad it's with you." You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his chapped lips. He pulls you closer, unwilling to allow even a fraction of space to separate you. He places the most gentle of kisses to your forehead as he wraps his arms tightly around you. It might not be what he knows, but he is willing to try harder to adjust to living here. So long as you are by his side.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fic

240 notes · View notes

sweetpeadixon · 1 year

Note

I'd like to make a request pretty please! A story about Darryl Dixon and a female reader who's short... using the sentence prompts 'You're lucky that you're cute.' And 'You feel like home to me.' And can you please include forehead kisses and nose boops... Like a really fluffy story, just full of fluff. 🥰 Pretty Pretty Please? And thank you so so very much!!! 🥰 (P.S. I love your writing!)

Thank you so much for this Daryl request! I've had so much fun writing him lately 🥰 I hope I get more requests for him in future 🥺 hope you enjoy this!!

Warnings: Fluff with feels, dead squirrel. It's mostly just teasing and flirting.

Word Count: 1619

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

You smell Daryl before you spot him, perched outside the group’s new house.

Alexandria was everything your family had been searching for and more. Yet, none of you felt entirely at peace here, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

No one was more unsettled, however, than Daryl.

You could see the way he held himself, standoffish and brash as their new neighbours passed by, curious about the newcomers. Only to scamper off quickly when they laid their eyes on the dark brooding archer, who sat gutting a squirrel on the porch.

“You stink.” You leaned over his shoulder, reaching around to tap his nose playfully as you scrunch your own at the smell of him, “You’re lucky that you’re cute, otherwise I’d have thrown a bucket of water over you by now. Simply to wash away some of the dirt that’s hiding that pretty face of yours.” A chuckle escapes your lips as he bats you away from him.

Teasing Daryl has become your new favourite pastime, seeing how quickly you can make the tips of his ears flush red.

Deanna invited you all to a welcome party in your honour. The rest of the group have washed and dressed, some have even shaved, it’s been a long time since anyone has seen Rick beneath the bushy beard that had taken over his face. But you see Daryl, sitting silently in the window of the living room. Ignoring everyone’s plea’s to join them.

Waiting until everyone has left, you approach him, as quiet as a dormouse.

His back is still facing you and you can’t quite tell if he’s heard you or not. But you get your answer when you wordlessly tap his nose, grinning up at him as he almost falls from the windowsill, a rare moment of clumsiness from the usually agile hunter. You see his ears glow red as he rolls his eyes at your antics.

“Go shower.” You demand, hands on your hips.

You’re well aware that you’re about as intimidating as a baby deer is to a lion, Daryl standing far taller than you. But you stand tall, a faux serious expression on your face that you’re struggling to control, laughter bubbling up.

“M’not goin’ t'no stupid party.” He grumbles at you.

“Then we’ll go for a walk instead. But you need a shower. I know you don't feel like you fit here, but you do. You deserve to be here Daryl.” You stare him down, unblinking. “I could come help you if you’ve forgotten how it works.” A cheeky grin spreads across your face, causing his eyes to widen slightly as he fumbles for his words. You love to see him so flustered, especially from your words alone. He mutters a quick “Fine.” and sulks his way towards the bathroom.

By the time he comes back downstairs you’ve changed into a softly ruffled, pastel green dress. You see the way Daryl’s eyes rake over your body, causing a flush of your own to grow on your cheeks. Tucking a stray hair behind your ear you take a moment to look at Daryl.

For someone who didn’t want to go to the party he’s made an effort. He’s found clean jeans and a black button up shirt, his signature vest thrown on top. His hair, still damp, clings to his face a little. You’d almost forgotten what he looked like without a layer of dirt and grime coating his skin, getting into every single pore.

And you are reminded now just how good he looks. There’s a spark that flows under your skin, a warmth radiating within as he approaches you.

“Good ‘nough for ya?” He asks gruffly. You know him well enough by now to hear the teasing lilt to his voice. It’s not often he teases you back but it gives you a thrill every time.

“I don’t know, maybe I should take a closer look.” You flirt as you stand on the tips of your toes to pull his shirt slightly away from his chest, pretending to peer down it. He chokes on a nervous laugh as he removes your hands, pushing you back down so your feet are fully on the ground, leaving you pouting up at him. “Fine, guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.” You shrug, turning and walking out the front door, not waiting for him to follow.

It didn’t take long on your walk for Aaron to find you both, inviting you to dinner with the lure of spaghetti. Daryl was, as usual, trying to avoid the get together, giving a firm “no thanks” and turning away.

You saw Aaron’s face drop slightly, and deciding you definitely didn’t want to give up the chance of eating something that didn’t come out of a tin for once, you burst into action. Daryl froze as you threw your arms around his back, clinging to him like a koala.

“Please Daryl,” He could hear the pout in your voice, “for me.” You felt the way his body relaxed, tapping your arm to let him go.

“Fine.” Was his reply when you released him, physically turning him around to face you. The grin you wore was blinding and Daryl couldn’t control the fast beating of his heart, the thumping that felt like it could burst from his chest.

The meal went smoothly, or as smoothly as it could with Daryl eating like a man starved. But who could blame him, you had been starved and struggling for months. And Daryl, ever the protector, would share his portions with the rest of your family everyday.

As he slurps up the last of his spaghetti, making an obnoxious noise that you’re sure he’s doing on purpose, you lean towards him, quickly tapping his nose again with a quiet laugh. As always he bats you away, scowling at you as you subtly inspect the tip of his ears.

Success again.

“You two really are cute. How long have you been together?” Your eyes shoot up to Eric, your cheeks aflame. Daryl answers for you, seemingly nonplussed by the error.

“Jus’ friends. Met when the w’rld went t’shit.” He’s not looking at anyone, stealing some leftover spaghetti from your plate. He’s completely unaware of the crestfallen look on your face, the smile that you’re trying to force onto your lips as Aaron and Eric both look at you in pity.

After dinner you and Daryl say your thank you's. Aaron asks Daryl to return the next day which, after a nudge from you, he shrugs and agrees to. You're both walking silently, the sky above you full of stars. You see your new house in the distance, lights out, everyone must still be at the party.

Glancing at Daryl beside you, you're struck by how beautiful he is. The moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. You'd had feelings for him for so long now, that you couldn't remember how it felt before you realised you'd do anything to see him smile.

You stop walking, still completely enraptured by the hunter beside you. His rough exterior hiding the soft, gentle man inside, the man who would share his rations with you, give you the clothes off his back and spend night after night on watch, barely sparing a moment of rest for himself.

"Eric wasn't completely wrong you know?" You speak quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful evening, "The whole relationship comment." Daryl turns to face you, saying nothing. "I know we're not, but we could be. If that's something you'd want?" Your words taper off at the end, looking at the floor when Daryl doesn't respond. "Or not, boy that wine really did a number on me." You try to laugh it off, hugging your arms around yourself as the chill in the air finally hits you. You can't believe you actually said any of that.

"Y'feel like home t'me." He mutters quietly, kicking a stone on the ground, eyes focused solely on his boots.

"What?" You almost give yourself whiplash with how fast you throw your head up, eyes wide as you stare at him, certain you must have misheard the normally stoic man.

"Y'said earlier bout me not fittin' here." His voice is still quiet, muffled as he begins to bite the skin of his thumb, a nervous habit.

"I said you feel like you don't fit here, but you always fit with us, with me." You reiterate, determined to let him know he belongs, that he matters.

"That's what I'm sayin'. Y'feel like home." He looks at you, his eyes soft as he lets you behind the walls he's spent years building.

"Are you saying you do want a relationship with me? It's okay if you don't. You don't have to do this just to make me happy." Daryl would do anything to help his family, and you wouldn't put it past him to try this with you, regardless of what he wants, if only to make you smile.

"I want this, you. I'm jus' not good at this shit." He takes a step closer to you, his hands finding their way to your neck, gently cupping your jaw in his rough palms.

"We'll learn together." You say, so softly you're worried he won't hear you. But he does. The way his mouth curves into a gentle smile, you know he's heard you.

He pulls you towards him, placing the softest of kisses to your lips. You pout up at him as he pulls away, your hands pressed against his firm chest.

"Plenty more where that came fr'm." His eyes light up as he speaks, leaning down again to press a final kiss to your forehead.

Taglists:

× Daryl Dixon: @dixontardis, @green-eyedladywrites

#daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader

348 notes · View notes

sweetpeadixon · 1 year

Note

Hi! Hope you're having a wonderful birthday event! 🎉🎂🎁💖

I would like to request a fluffy fic with Darryl Dixon that includes piggyback rides and the dialog prompt "Did you just kiss me?" 🥰

(P.S. Thanks for doing a fun event like this!!!)

Thank you! I've had a lot of requests that I'm excited about so it's definitely going well 🥰 I don't think I've ever told you how much I love your username btw! Fred is 👌 I hope you enjoy this as much as I did when I was writing it!!

Warnings: One swear word, mention of death, pretty much just entirely fluff. Plus size!reader 💚

Word Count: 1,265

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

"Told ya not t'come." Daryl grumbles as he watches you rub the dirt and leaves from your jeans. He had told you to watch out for that stupid tree root, but you had just rolled your eyes at him. Seconds later you abruptly fell flat on your ass with a yelp.

He watches you, with what you can only describe as annoyance, as you try to massage your ankle, only to wince the moment you touch it. Ignoring your pain, you look up at Daryl, huffing.

"You always go on your own. Thought you might get lonely." You shrug minutely, looking sadly back down at your ankle, now red and angry looking where you’d rolled down your sock.

All you hear is Daryl’s scoff as he turns his back to you, crouching slightly.

"C'mon." He says harshly, not looking at you.

"What?" The confusion is clear in your voice. You look around the forest surrounding you both, as if somehow you’d find the answer to your question hidden amongst the trees and greenery.

"Get on." Daryl sounds frustrated. But you’re still not getting any context and the confusion sits heavier on your mind.

"On what?"

"M'back. Did ya bang y'r head when y'fell?" He turns to face you then, his features hard with irritation.

The archer is angry, but little do you know that the person he’s angry with is himself. He shouldn’t have let you follow him that morning. Should have insisted you stay behind, perhaps then you wouldn’t have gotten injured. He’s not stupid, he knows it’s likely just a twisted ankle, but out here something as simple as that could be your death and that would be on him.

"Daryl, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not exactly light..." You move your arms up and down, gesturing to the curves and rolls that adorn your body. Your eyes are cast downwards, not wanting to look at Daryl as he realises that, of course, you’re right.

Only he does the exact opposite of what you expect.

"Get on m'damn back woman." He grumbles, clearly exasperated by your words.

“Fine.” You grumble back, “You’re so grumpy.” Your voice turns slightly petulant as you roll your eyes at him for the second time that morning.

“Are ya done?” His face is so unimpressed that for a moment you forget all about your insecurities, fighting a small laugh that bubbles in your chest.

“Yes, yes. I’m getting on your ‘damn back’.” You mimic the gruff tone of his voice, causing him to roll his eyes at you.

As you pick yourself up from the ground, wincing slightly when you try to put a small amount of weight on your ankle, the insecurity seeps back in.

“Just- just don’t drop me.” Your voice takes a timid edge as you peer up at him.

“M’not gonna drop ya.” Daryl’s voice softens.

He turns again, crouching with his arms behind him ready to help you up. You take a deep breath, letting him position you against his back.

When you hear him grunt as he bears your full weight, you almost tell him to just put you down, tears forming in your eyes. But he hooks his arms tighter around your thighs, pulling you closer against him and begins walking, ignoring the slight ache in his lower back. He knows you’re heavy, but he simply couldn’t care less.

The only thought on his mind is getting you home, where you’ll be safe. And maybe the way your warm body is pressed so tightly against him, but he’ll keep that bit to himself.

After a short while you let yourself relax into him fully, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder. You feel him tense slightly beneath you, but he doesn’t say anything, staying silent as he walks.

You don’t mean to, you really don't, but before you can stop yourself, you press a soft kiss to the hair at the side of his face.

If you thought Daryl was tense before, he was like a statue now.

He’s frozen to the spot, his grip on your soft thighs tightening, biting harshly against the denim. He doesn’t put you down, he simply seems to shut down.

The silence drags on, with you hanging limply in his arms, still pressed against his back.

“D-Daryl?” You question quietly.

“Did ya jus’ kiss me?” He asks incredulously, you can’t see him but the way his words are muffled you’d hazard a guess that his lip is between his teeth, gnawing at it.

“No. Maybe. Yes. But I didn’t mean to!” You all but yell in his ear.

He’s careful as he lowers you to the ground, setting you on a fallen tree. You’re so close to the prison, you can see the fence only metres away from you. If you’d just held back those insistent, nagging, feelings for a few more minutes, you’d have been home and back to simply longing from afar.

Daryl’s standing in front of you, chewing on his thumb and pointedly avoiding your gaze.

“Daryl?”

You break his inner turmoil, causing him to look up at you with an expression you can’t quite fathom.

“Ya kissed me.”

“Yeah.” You nod lamely, not sure what else to say. You’re certain he’s preparing to let you down gently.

“Why would ya kiss me?”

“What?” Your face scrunches up in confusion, entirely caught off guard by the way he poses his question.

“M’nothing special. Y’deserve better. So why’d ya kiss me?” Daryl’s eyes have fallen to the floor. He adjusts the strap of his crossbow, something, anything to keep himself grounded as he lets a small slither of his insecurity escape.

“Nothing special?” You stand up slowly, wincing in pain and doing your best to hobble towards him. When you’re mere inches away from him, you jab a sharp finger into his chest.

“You, Daryl Dixon, are the best man here. You look after everyone, and you never ask for anything. I see all the things you do. You go hunting everyday, alone. You take care of Judith when everyone else is tired, even when you’ve not slept in days. You try to sneak your food onto Carl and Beth’s plates when you think no one is watching. But I am. You are a hero, Daryl Dixon. Whether you believe it or not. So don’t try to tell me that I deserve better, because you deserve the world and I’d do anything I could to give it to you.”

Daryl is staring at you, eyes wide with awe and just a hint of uncertainty. Under the dirt and grime you’re sure you can see flushed skin. You remove your finger from his chest, instead pressing your palm over his heart.

“I know you’re not one for words Daryl, so how about you show me how you feel?” You feel shy as you speak, a stark difference from the speech you just gave. “And I really hope I’m not misreading this whole thing, because fuck, that would be embarassing.”

You let out a quiet laugh, hoping beyond hope that you were right about this.

“Not misreadin’ nothin’” Daryl’s voice is more of a gruff whisper as he speaks, gingerly reaching for you. He pulls you carefully into him, gripping your waist with tender hands. For someone that looks so brutish, he sure is gentle.

“M’gonna kiss ya now.” His eyes are locked on yours, but you can still see a hint of insecurity hidden in them.

“Finally.” You tease, nudging his nose with yours, drawing him into your lips.

Taglists:

× Daryl Dixon: @dixontardis, @green-eyedladywrites, @winnifredburkleismyhero

#daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader

320 notes · View notes

sweetpeadixon · 1 year

Note

Daryl x PlusSizeReader:

“You’re beautiful, did you know that?”

Maybe one is injured and the other has to show a part of their body they're ashamed of or smth. bonus if first kiss/and or confession?!?

(sending more btw--feel free to omit or ignore anything you're not inspired to do!)

Thank you lovely 💚 I'm afraid there's no love confession or first kisses today, but instead we have insecure Daryl & caring Reader. There's nothing explicit about the reader's body size, simply because this work is more about Daryl, but as with all my fics, I still imagined them as plus size while writing. I hope you enjoy it even if it doesn't fit all of your hopes 🥰 you know I'll be writing more for him soon enough!

Warnings: Zombie mentions (it's TWD), parental abuse mentioned, scars, blood, wounds.

Word Count: 1,192

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

“Sit still.”

Daryl grumbles at you, fidgeting as you tug his shirt higher again.

“The longer you fuss, the longer this is going to take.” You scold as he tries to pull the shirt down again, slapping his hand away.

The pair of you had been out on a supply run when you found yourselves in the middle of a small hoard. In your rush to escape, a walker had managed to throw itself on Daryl, effectively throwing the archer onto the ground.

It hadn’t been until after you’d finally escaped, holing up in a small cabin, that you noticed the large bloodstain seeping into the back of Daryl’s shirt. You’ve got your bottles of water and a small rag in hand, attempting to clean the wound.

He’s lucky it’s just a gash from his fall and not a bite.

Your mind had jumped to the worst outcome possible when you’d first seen the blood, your heart had dropped and your skin had grown clammy. You’d albut forced him to lift the blood soaked material, letting you inspect the wound and releasing a breath you didn’t realise you were holding when you confirmed there were no bite marks to be seen.

“S’fine. Got t’head back. C’mon.” He tries to shrug your hands off, moving to stand. You hold his waist firmly, your fingers biting into his firm stomach. You feel the way he tenses at your touch, causing you to loosen your grip slightly.

“No.” You say in a firm tone. “We’re cleaning this now whether you like it or not Daryl. I’m not letting you get it infected because you’re too damn stubborn to let me help you.”

“Fine.” You hear the way he huffs, folding his arms in front of him like a child forced to do something they don’t want to.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, he’s more than happy to help everyone else, but when it comes to helping him, he never lets anyone close enough. Except perhaps yourself and Carol, if he’s feeling partially amiable, which is rare.

“Take your shirt off, I can hardly see what I’m doing.” You sit back on your heels, waiting for him to argue with you. And just as expected,

“Nah, jus’ leave it. Let’s go.” He’s tugging the material back down, roughly trying to cover his skin and wincing as it rubs harshly against the open wound. Standing he turns to face you, waiting expectantly for you to follow suit.

He clearly doesn’t know you well enough.

“Daryl. Take the shirt off or I’ll do it for you.” You stand your ground, looking up at him with hard eyes. Something as ridiculous as letting a wound get infected would not be the thing that takes down Daryl Dixon, not if you had anything to say about it.

He drops his gaze to the floor, worrying his lip between his teeth. The archer looks unnaturally shy. Unsure of himself. He’s always stand-offish, brash. But it’s rare that you see that vulnerability expose itself.

“Just, lift it a little higher for me? It’s covering half the wound.” You say softly, trying not to spook him.

There have been many times where you thought of Daryl as an animal. When he’s stalking his prey on a hunt. When he’s protecting his family, struggling to hold himself back from the fight, pacing like a tiger in a cage.

But this is the first time you’ve seen him as skittish, like a deer that doesn’t know whether to abort the mission and run, or come closer.

He makes up his own mind when he crouches in front of you again, hunching his back as he removes the shirt entirely. The wide expanse of skin fully exposed to you. You have to hold back the gasp that threatens to escape you at the sight of the scars that litter his pale skin. He’d told you about his childhood, his father. But you’d never seen the extent of it until this moment. Your heart aches for him.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, softly placing your hands on his back, taking care as you continue to wash the dirt and debris away from the open wound. It doesn’t take long, meaning that by the time he speaks again, you’re already wrapping his waist in the bandages you’d made sure to pack.

“F’r what?” His voice is gruff, but you can hear the uncertainty in his tone. The way his self-consciousness eats away at him.

“Trusting me.” You give into the urge to stroke his side gently, letting your fingers run over the ridges of his ribs. You feel him tense at the soft touch.

“Don’t.” He mutters, so quiet you almost miss it.

“Don’t what?”

You remove your hands from his body, leaving him cold where he’s already missing your touch. He says nothing, keeping his back to you as you talk again.

“Don’t touch you like that?”

“S’too soft. Don’t deserve it.” Daryl continues to mutter, as if he’s having to force the words out. And knowing him, he probably is.

“You’re telling me to stop because you don’t think you deserve it? Daryl, why would you say that?” Your voice is incredulous. You long to touch him again, to show him just how much he does deserve it.

“Jus’ a dirty redneck. M’not good.”

Daryl keeps his face hidden as you walk around him. You look down at the usually stoic archer, practically curled in on himself. It makes your chest clench to see him looking so small for once.

“Well that’s just bullshit. If anything, you’re too good.”

“Stop.” You’ve never heard him sound so desperate, but you can’t stop, not until he understands.

“No, you need to hear this. You are too good for this world, Daryl. I mean, sometimes it’s like you were made for this world, the world as it is now. You know what to do, you take care of all of us. And everyone knows that you are good. But you deserve better than the world we live in right now. You deserve everything Daryl.”

He’s glancing up at you, from his place on the hard floor, gnawing at his thumb with a frown on his face. Clear disbelief on his features.

“You’re beautiful, did you know that?” You lean forwards to gently rub your thumb over the frown lines on his forehead, attempting to stroke them away and offering him a soft smile.

“M’not.” Comes the signature mutter, as he looks back at the floor. His cheeks, flooding subtly with colour.

“Oh yeah, you are. Especially when you blush like that.” You tease, handing him his shirt. “Come on, it’s going to get dark soon, we should head back.”

Daryl is staring at you with wide eyes as you turn to pack up your belongings, preparing for the journey back to the prison. He can’t comprehend what you’ve said. He forces a cough as he stands, as if he’s trying to expel the awkwardness that he feels deep within.

As you leave the cabin, Daryl’s hand finds the small of your back, guiding you gently home.

Taglists:

× Daryl Dixon: @dixontardis, @green-eyedladywrites, @winnifredburkleismyhero

#daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader

136 notes · View notes

sweetpeadixon · 1 year

Text

@dixontardis, tumblr is a dick. Here is the reposted version. Thank you lovely for a Daryl request! I don't get as many for him so I'm always overjoyed to see him turn up in my asks 🥺 I truly hope you like this as much I do 💚 I may have also made a moodboard...

Warnings: Smut 18+ minors DNI, plus size!reader, emotional sex, crying during sex (not in a kinky way), p in v sex, TWD spoilers s9.

Word Count: 3,118

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

"Stop. Jus' stop.”

You freeze in your tracks, bent slightly at the waist as you pause in putting down the firewood you had gathered for Daryl’s makeshift camp.

"What?" Your voice comes out as an awkward squeak, unused to him using such a forceful tone on you.

The archer sighs, rubbing a dirt covered hand over his face. Part of him wishes you hadn’t sought him out, but he knows that part is lying to himself. He had been out here for close to six months now, the search for his brother, their leader, coming up empty with every day that passed.

He had missed you. Not that he had any right to miss you in the way that he did. You were merely a friend, a part of his found family. But you had this way about you, something that made him feel warm, like the sun itself was shining down on him whenever you were near.

And yet somehow, you brought out an anger in him that he hadn’t known he possessed before meeting you.

"Stop talkin' 'bout y'rself like that." Daryl’s brow is furrowed in frustration, his eyes on you, sharp and unwavering.

You say nothing, self consciously tugging at your oversized knit sweater.

Frost was beginning to settle on the ground. Your plan had been to convince Daryl to come home, worrying that he’d catch his death if he remained out here alone all winter. But the words died on your tongue the moment you’d seen him, wanting only to bask in his presence. The conversation, that you knew would not end in your favour, was left to be had at a later time.

Daryl seems to falter at your silence, lowering his eyes and shifting uncomfortably where he stands. His anger seeping away as he sees the way you begin to hold yourself, curling inward and avoiding his eyes.

He hadn’t meant to bring it up, intending to bottle up his annoyance as he always did. But when your voice had turned self-deprecating, forcing a laugh as you told him that at least with winter coming you could go back to covering up your body with layer after layer of thick clothing. Hiding the dips, rolls and curves that made up your frame. Something inside of him snapped.

"Ya nice t'look at, ‘kay?" The hunter mutters. His hair falling to cover his face, hiding the subtle warmth he could feel growing on his cheeks.

"Daryl, wha-" The curious, confused look you send him has Daryl pacing with agitation.

"Do I gotta spell it out for ya?" He comes to a stop in front of you, closer than you had anticipated. You can feel his warm breath on the cold skin of your face, causing a shiver to creep up your spine.

You’re looking up at him through your lashes, lips parted slightly as you wait for his next move. The vulnerable way you’re looking at him has his resolve snapping.

Daryl takes a step towards you, hands reaching out for your face.

Startled, you take a step backwards, almost tripping on the pile of firewood.

You hold your own hands out in front of you for a second, effectively stopping Daryl where he is. He brings his thumb to his mouth, gnawing on it as he waits for you to speak.

"What are you doing?"

To say you look like a deer in headlights would be an understatement. You’re standing, hands nervously rubbing together in front of your stomach, bottom lip caught between your teeth. Your eyes are locked on Daryl’s with uncertainty, and maybe just a hint of hope.

In response Daryl huffs quietly. It had taken him a while to work up the courage to let his feelings come to the surface, and now that he has there’s no fighting them back.

"Tryin' t'kiss ya.” His voice is gruff, but with an undercurrent of emotion that catches you off guard. “Stand still."

As he moves to take another step closer to you, you place a small hand on his chest, halting him. For a second you say nothing, your heart racing beneath your own chest as you feel his warmth seep through the old, worn poncho.

"You don't have to do that, Daryl." Your voice is barely more than a whisper, vulnerability creeping into every word. Your head shakes subtly as you speak, eyes dropping to the ground between you and the archer.

"I want to.” His fingers feel rough against the soft skin of your jaw. He tilts your head up to look at him, heart clenching as he sees the conflict in your eyes. Daryl’s words take on a softer edge as he continues, “Don't ya listen t'me woman?"

"You said I'm nice to look at?” Another self-deprecating laugh escapes you, “I didn't know that meant you wanted to kiss me."

You can’t find it within yourself to truly believe that after all this time, all you’ve been through together, that he would suddenly feel any sort of urge to kiss you. You didn’t understand why he would wait so long if this is something he’d wanted, or was it simply a whim that he was having after being alone for so long.

"Well, I do. Is that- do ya want tha' too?"

The question hung in the air, the small gap between you filling with a thick tension. He could practically hear your brain trying to piece everything together, trying to understand what’s happening.

Daryl’s eyes bore into your own, something akin to desperation shining through, albeit subtly.

"Yes." You admit quietly, your own wide eyes staring back at him.

You watch as relief washes over him, visibly letting his tense shoulders sag without the weight of uncertainty sitting on them.

He moves with more confidence as, once again, he takes that bold step towards you.

“Why now?”

You hate doing it. Hate stopping him each and every time he steps out of his comfort zone.

But you need to know. You need to know that he's doing this because it's you, not just because you're the only one there.

“Wha’ d’ya mean?” His head is tilted to the side, husky voice tainted with confusion. Perhaps communication was neither of your strong suits.

“Why do you want to kiss me now?” The question is pointed, insecurities eating away at you.

“S’not just now. Been a long time.” His fingers are entwined with the ends of your hair, carefully twisting and turning it over in his hands as he speaks.

You've never known Daryl to be so free with his touches, regularly shying away from so much as a soft touch to his arm or shoulder. So the action has you overwhelmed, your chest tight with emotion.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” You hear yourself whisper, letting yourself be pulled closer to him by an invisible thread that you feel tangled in your heart.

His hair is curling into his face as you peer up at him. You see him open and close his mouth a few times before finally answering you. His voice tinged with a subtle sadness that you're sure anyone else would miss.

“Ya deserve more.”

Your fingers find his jaw, tracing a soft line up to his temple. You let your hand press firmly against the archer's skin, his rough beard scratching your palm in a pleasing way.

“You’re more than anyone deserves.”

His eyes close at your words, hiding the way they brim with wet emotion. He presses impossibly closer to the warmth of your hand against his skin, needing to feel grounded in this moment.

You feel yourself moving before you have a chance to second guess yourself again. Taking that final step into his space, letting his warmth soak into your own body. You feel his hard chest molding itself against you as his arms circle your waist, hands resting lightly on your hips.

You let your fingers find purchase against the worn poncho, gripping tightly, as if he may disappear at any moment.

Those blue eyes are staring down at you in anticipation, hesitant to make the first move after your previous rebuttals. Your grip grows ever tighter as you lean up, gently, teasingly, knocking his nose with your own.

There’s a soft smile on your face as you close the gap, letting your lips slot against his with a neediness you didn’t know had been building within you.

Daryl doesn’t waste a second. His hands holding your waist in a bruising grip as he bites at your bottom lip, grunting at the way you quietly whimper, feeling your body go pliant against him.

One of your hands works its way up his chest, caressing his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, until it finds its true target. His dark hair is matted and thick with dirt as you twist the ends between your small fingers, tugging softly as Daryl’s tongue runs along the seam of your lips, asking for entry.

And who are you to deny such a request?

As you part your lips, the muscle traces along the edge of your tongue, drawing a breathy whimper from deep within you. You can feel your body growing hotter by the second, despite the cooling air surrounding you.

The forest is silent bar the panting breaths that escape the two of you, the groans and whimpers that neither of you can hold in.

“Daryl.” You whisper, pulling away only far enough to let yourself speak. His lips are chasing yours, hands moving up to your neck to try and guide you back to him. “Daryl, wait.” There’s a quiet chuckle in your voice, a happiness you never thought you would feel again.

He huffs, letting his forehead drop softly against yours. Fighting the temptation to kiss every inch of your soft, supple skin that's available to him.

"I need to say something. Before we-" A deep flush covers your cheeks as you cut yourself off, not wanting to be too presumptuous. "I just need to tell you something."

Daryl says nothing, but leaves a whisper of a kiss on your temple as he forces himself to pull away from you. His hands remain tight on the fabric at your waist, not letting you go far as he stares down at you.

"I came here to bring you home." Your voice grows sullen, knowing already what his response will be.

“Can’t. Not yet, not found nothin’.”

No words leave your mouth. You can't speak for fear of the lump growing in your throat. So instead you give a small nod and opt to burrow your face further into his shoulder, hiding the way your face contorts in pain.

You understand, you know how important this mission is to him. You only wished that you were a part of his plans, that he wouldn’t leave you behind again.

“Ya can stay wit' me. If- if that’s somethin’ you’d want t’do.”

“You want me to stay?" This time you can't hide the wet sound in your voice, tears beading up in your eyes as you stare at him incredulously.

Daryl nods as he gnaws at his thumb, a nervous habit that you find alarmingly endearing.

You can't stop the smile that grows on your face, salty tears flowing freely from the whirlwind of emotions your body has just been put through.

The archer doesn't hesitate this time, taking your round cheeks in his rough hands and pulling your face toward his. You let your fingers run along the edge of his pants, tickling a small slither of skin that you find bare at his waist.

His lips are gentle against yours, pressing endless kisses to your skin as he wordlessly guides you toward the makeshift tent, hands pulling softly on your hips as he lowers himself to sit on the ground. You let yourself be pulled gently onto his lap, legs splayed either side of his hard thighs.

Daryl's hands glide slowly up your back, tracing their way up your spine, lifting your woollen sweater over your head. You feel a shiver come over you as his mouth settles along your jaw, nipping and kissing his way down your throat and to your newly exposed clavicle.

Your head is thrown back as he explores the skin that he's longed to touch for so long, but always restrained himself from, breathy sounds escaping you with each touch to your feverish skin.

There's a soft desperation in his kisses, in his movements. From the way his grip tightens as you subtly roll your hips down against him. To how he grunts when your own mouth begins to explore his skin instead.

It feels as though everything is going in slow motion. You drink in every touch, every sound, every sight as Daryl pants beneath you.

He's tugging off the layers of clothes that hide his warm flesh. Pulling you tightly against his chest as you roll your hips over the growing muscle that you can feel pressing incessantly against your thick thigh.

There's a moment of awkwardness as you fight to remove your boots and jeans, the denim hugging your plump thighs. Quiet huffs of laughter fill the air as Daryl helps you remove the offending item, slowly dragging them down your sensitive skin. His fingers lingering on the soft flesh leaving you quivering from within.

It doesn't take long for you to find your place, straddling him once again. Only this time you let your hand run down the toned chest in front of you. Tracing your way over every dip and rivet, watching Daryl's eyes gloss over from the delicate touch.

Your hand stops at the top of his pants, fingertips barely breaching the dark material. Daryl can't help but jerk his hips up towards your hand as it teases him, running your palm ever so slowly over the front of his pants, fingers tracing the outline of his hard cock.

The grunt that escapes him has you clenching around nothing, slick forming in the seat of your panties as you grind against his toned thighs.

His hands brush the hair from your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss. One hand stays on your jaw, while the other runs gentle fingers down the meat of your arm. You sigh into his mouth as he keeps you close, body overflowing with heat and emotion.

You slowly release his aching cock from the constricting denim, circling the tip with your fingers before running them down the thick vein that you can feel throbbing for you. You swallow the hunter's whimpers as you rub the swollen tip along the wet material of your panties.

A gasp, followed by a loud moan, forces its way from your lips as Daryl's hand grips the crease of your thigh, letting his fingers dip beneath the soaked material between your legs.

Working in tandem, he pulls the thin cotton to the side, letting you stroke his thick cock between your puffy folds. You tease yourself, rubbing the leaking tip over your clit.

Your whole body curls in on itself at the first touch to your sensitive bud, your head buried into Daryl's shoulder, teeth biting gently into his collarbone which has him rutting up into you, bumping the bundle of nerves again.

As you lower yourself onto his aching cock, you feel as though the wind is knocked out of you. It's been so long since you've been touched like this, since any man has breached your velvety walls.

Emotions swell within you, forcing tears into your eyes as you feel him fill you in a way that eases an ache you didn't realise you had.

You hear your name whispered from Daryl's lips where they're pressed against your temple. Restraint clear in his voice as you feel him twitch inside you.

"We can stop." His words are muffled against your hair, "Ya cryin'."

"Don't stop, Daryl. Please." You whimper, lips moving against his throat as you speak. "It's just been so long. I forgot what it was like to be touched. I forgot how it felt to be this close to someone. Someone I love." Hot tears are streaming down your face as Daryl holds you tightly, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

"Love ya too."

You whine loudly as you feel Daryl move, rocking gently into you. His lips find your shoulder, leaving soft kisses along your bare skin. He traces patterns into your back as you circle your legs around him, using his body to leverage his cock deeper inside of you.

You can feel every vein on the hard muscle as it throbs against your fluttering walls, dragging him back in with every rock of his hips.

He has you gasping and writhing against him as he moves a calloused finger between your bodies, circling your clit. It doesn't take long for you to be whimpering, arms clutching onto Daryl as you rut yourself against him.

You can feel the slick gathering at the base of his cock, coating him and making the glide even more sensitive with each gentle thrust.

He softly pinches your swollen bud between his fingers, holding you firmly against his hips as you writhe in his lap, driving his cock even deeper within you. The strike of your orgasm hits you without warning. Within seconds you're wailing as a white hot coil is unleashed within you, your pussy convulsing around the hard cock inside of you.

Your gasps and stuttering hips have Daryl grunting beneath you. His hands are firm on your waist as his thrusts become harder, messier.

You can't help the way your pussy clenches around him, feeling even an ounce of the man beneath you going feral has your body heating up, the coil tightening again.

He whimpers as he feels your pussy trying to milk him, grip tightening with every thrust. All it takes is a single kiss from you, a soft bite to his bottom lip as his head is thrown back, eyes closed tightly. He pulls his throbbing cock from the warmth of your quivering heat, his hand pumping furiously as he spills over your plush thighs.

You watch as his legs shake, his thick cock shooting salty liquid over your hot flesh.

Leaning forwards you place soft, barely there, kisses over his cheekbones, leaving a trail down to his lips. You brush away the hair that's stuck to his forehead, pressing your face close to his.

"I love you, Daryl. And I'll stay out here with you for as long as you need."

The swell of emotion, the brimming of tears in his eyes tells you all you need to hear.

× Daryl Dixon Taglist: @dixontardis, @green-eyedladywrites, @winnifredburkleismyhero, @minervadashwood, @runningmunson, @azanoni, @thefemininemystiquee, @reddisteddie, @zoeydixon94, @itsmeatballworld

#daryl dixon x plus size reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut

152 notes · View notes

sweetpeadixon · 1 year

Note

Another one for Daryl x PlusSize!Reader (fem is fine)

She's a little dramatic sometimes, but her passion for life is something Daryl finds very attractive. Anyway, things go wrong while the two of them are on a run. Reader is hurt and bleeding (but the wound is superficial, not life threatening). True to form, she thinks she's dying and begins telling Daryl to leave her behind, to live life without her. To tell everyone that she loves them.

(Bonus if you work in the line, "You ain't gonna die. At least not today.")

Up to you how Daryl handles this (is he annoyed? does he match her melodrama with his own? is he calm? is he silent?)

Eventually, after they get back home (wherever that home is), she says something like "Thank you" and Daryl asks "for what?" and she replies "for coming into my life" and maybe they finally confess their feelings or kiss or something or snuggle/cuddle on the infirmary bed.

Thank you another Daryl request 🥺 I've been so excited to write this!! 🥰🥰 I really hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Injuries, blood mentioned. Mostly teasing and fluff.

Word Count: 984

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

White hot pain pierced through your leg, shooting its way up your body and bringing you to the ground with a heavy thud. Daryl was crouched in front of you faster than you could call out in agony. Gritting your teeth you push through the pain.

“Daryl,” Your voice is weak, “this is it Daryl, I’m going to bleed out. If I die, just make sure to tell the others that I love them. Make sure Little Ass-Kicker doesn’t forget about me.” You plead with him, clinging to his arm as he shrugs you off to grab a rag he has in his pack. “You’re going to have to go on without me.” You almost wail at him, throwing your head back dramatically, the back of your hand pressed against your face. You miss him rolling his eyes as he begins to tear the leg of your pants open.

“Stay still.” His voice has the same gruff baritone as usual. His calloused hands are holding your ankle roughly to keep you still as he wraps the rag around the large gash in your calf. The sight of the blood makes you attempt to tug your leg back towards you in alarm. He pulls the rag tightly around you, making you wince as he ties it off.

"Pain is good. Means we don't need t'amputate." He looks at you with a glint of a smile in his eyes, more than used to your overdramatic ways. You pout up at him,

"Don't tease, I'm bleeding out here." He scoffs at your words, this time you don’t miss the way he rolls his eyes at you.

"There's n'more blood, look." He nods down to your leg, making your eyes follow. He’s right, the torniquete has stopped the bleeding. No bleeding out for you today. But the sight of the dirty rag has you grimacing.

"It could get infected." You mutter as you shift uncomfortably on the hard ground.

"Girl, stop y’r yammering.” He rubs his matted hair out of his eyes, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Ya ain't gonna die. Least not t'day. ‘Kay?" Daryl leans over you, an arm beginning to dig under your legs. You quickly try to shove his arm away from you, knowing exactly what he’s planning.

"What are you doing?" You exclaim, not quite looking at him.

"Gotta carry ya. Can't walk on that." As if to prove his point, he prods your leg making you wince and scowl at him. Daryl’s hand starts to work its way under your thigh again.

"But you can't." You shuffle backwards, trying to move away from him desperately.

"Why?" He sighs deeply. He may be used to your theatrics but you’re quickly losing light and he needs to get you back to Hershel. He wouldn’t admit it, but you were also right about the possible infection.

"I'm too-" You cut yourself off, looking at the floor, ashamed of what you want to say. You already know exactly how Daryl will react, he’ll scoff and ignore your comments.

"Too..." He mocks you just a little, gently placing his hand on your uninjured knee, encouraging you to continue.

"Too heavy." You whisper, not looking at him. You hear him scoff and the next thing you know, you’re squeaking as you're hauled roughly into his arms, being carried bridal style back to the motorbike.

"Too heavy." He mutters scoffing at you, exactly as you’d expected.

It’s dark when you next see Daryl. He had dropped you off with Hershel as soon as you’d arrived back at the prison, cautiously placing you down on the bed. He lingered for a moment, his hands hovering over you, as if he wanted to reach out to you. But instead he pulled them back, mumbled something about sorting out the squirrels they’d caught and then left you with the vet.

Now, back in your own bed, in your small cell, it was dark. The sun had set hours ago, leaving only a soft glow from the moon streaming through the cell bars. You heard a gentle rapping on the metal, and found Daryl stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Still alive then?” He gave you a small teasing smile, his hair covering most of his face.

“Hershel patched me up. Said you did a good job with the torniquete, could’ve bled out without it.” You grinned at him, moving to sit up slightly. You winced as the movement unsettled your leg. Daryl moved to sit beside you, his hand softly rubbing your ankle to soothe you. "Thank you." You whisper. He peers up at you through his dark, greasy hair,

"For what?" He tilts his head to the side, reminding you of a puppy. You let out a soft laugh at the thought, shaking your head as you imagined his tongue lolling out if you scratched behind his ear. Daryl squeezed your ankle, bringing you back to the present.

"For coming into my life." You answer sincerely. He bows his head, you can’t tell in only the moonlight, but you’re sure he’s trying to hide a blush from you. Leaning forward you carefully reach out your hand, using your fingers to tilt his head back up to look at you. “I mean it,” you say, “Thank you. For everything.” He closes the gap between you, nudging your nose with his. Pausing, his eyes flit up to meet yours, silently asking for permission to kiss you. Instead of speaking you press your lips against his. Soft lips meet chapped ones. It begins softly, carefully, but soon Daryl’s fingers find your hair. Tangling in the messy strands at the base of your neck. Your own hands glide up to his neck, holding his jaw as you nip at his lips.

You chase after him as he pulls away, resting his forehead against your own.

“I should be thankin’ you for comin’ into my life.”

Taglists:

× Daryl Dixon: @dixontardis, @green-eyedladywrites

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fic

185 notes · View notes