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faceofpoe · 2 months

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oh hey do you. do you figure that Crosshair, who began the series trying to kill a force sensitive child, will team up with Emerie ("maybe you don't trust enough") to rescue the force sensitive children from the vault.

Cuz. I just. I think that'd be neat.

#Omega would go too but she's too busy putting Echo's crossbow to good use upstairs #And perhaps Crosshair will take the mission about saving not killing #the bad batch #Tbb #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #Give me the full s3 arc with Emerie #Give me the full series arc #*pokes writers with stick*

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vigilante-3073 · 4 months

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Tree-hugger

Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

PART 2

Summary: Daryl managed to convince Y/N to move closer to the prison. He keeps true to his promise of visiting her.

TW: Flirting, fluff, nervous Daryl

Y/N lived in the forest just outside the fences of the prison. Daryl tried to convince her to come inside, but she refused. Y/N operated on her own schedule, moving to different areas around the perimeter every few days. Daryl tended to think of her as an outdoor cat, only coming around when she wanted attention or food.

Daryl gave her a radio to keep in touch, checking up on her when he hadn't seen her in a few days. She had managed to survive this long without any assistance and Daryl couldn't deny that he was impressed.

Daryl invited her on scavenging missions, providing her with the opportunity to help out and get some more supplies for herself at the same time. Y/N waited for him outside the gates whenever they were going to go on a run, never going inside.

She trusted Daryl implicitly and he felt the same way. It was both the strangest and longest lasting friendship that Daryl ever had.

...

Daryl and Y/N sat around the fire in silence, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers as he watched her cook a rabbit. Life in the prison had finally settled and things were starting to function as they should.

Crops had started to grow in the yard and they had running water for the first time in a long time. They were safe and life was good.

Y/N deserved that too. She deserved to have an actual bed and a stable place to call home, even for a few days.

"You can trust them, y'know?" Daryl said, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing smoke up into the air.

"Trust who?" Y/N questioned, eyes not moving from the fire as she rotated the meat in the flame.

"My group... Or Rick, at least," Daryl said, flicking the ashes from the end of his cigarette.

"I trust you. That's enough for me," Y/N stated, eyes finding his over the fire and shooting him a small smile, "Besides, groups make me nervous and I work better on my own anyway," She shrugged.

"What about me?" Daryl asked.

"If you're willing to drag that beautifully sculpted body of yours up a tree, I would be more than happy to turn this into a two man operation," Y/N said, eyes running over him appreciatively.

"I can't climb for shit," He said with a smile, flicking the ashes from the end of his cigarette.

"I could teach you," Y/N offered.

"Nah, you just want an excuse to stare at my ass all day," Daryl said, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"It is a nice ass," She smiled.

Daryl didn't push the subject of meeting the group. He knew that she would come around in due time.

...

Daryl made his way through the forest, crossbow held close to himself as he stared up into the trees. He knew that Y/N had moved into this area since the last time he saw her.

Daryl would never understand how she managed to blend in so well.

Y/N watched him walk by with a smile, lounging on a high branch that was concealed by leaves. She reached over and plucked an acorn from one of the leafy branches above her. Y/N threw the acorn, laughing as it hit the archer square in the center of his back.

"Booyah!" She yelled.

Daryl spun around, squinting up at the trees as he scanned the branches for her, "Where the hell are you?" He called.

"Over here, handsome!" Y/N yelled.

Daryl shook his head as he made his way over, staring up at her from the ground. He could just barely see her through the lush greenery.

"Why'd you go so high up?" Daryl asked.

"To watch you wander around aimlessly while I throw things at you," She smiled.

"Get your ass down here. I brought dinner," He said, holding up a string of squirrels.

Y/N untied herself and climbed down from the tree quickly. Daryl hovered at the base, ready to catch her if she slipped.

Y/N dropped down onto the ground, dusting her hands on her pants, "Is that a new shirt?" She asked, eyes running over him.

Daryl nodded, "Found it yesterday," He stated.

"Looks good on you. Plus, it shows off those big arms that I love so much," She said with a wink.

Daryl smiled slightly, cheeks flushing, "Shut up," He muttered.

"About how gorgeous you are? Never," She smirked, "There's a clearing over this way," She added.

Daryl shook his head before following her through the trees. She went to work building the fire as he prepared the squirrels.

"Rick wants to go on another run tomorrow," Daryl said.

"Are you going?" Y/N asked, blowing carefully at the base of her fire before adding more tinder.

"You got a crush on me or somethin'?" He asked.

"Of course I do. Have you seen yourself? I'd have your sexy redneck ass wifed up in a minute if marriage was still a thing" She replied casually, adding small pieces of wood to the fire.

Daryl smiled, even when he flirted back Y/N still managed to leave him speechless. He looked up as she sat back on her haunches, looking over at him.

"I'm goin' with Rick tomorrow," He said.

"Fantastic, so am I," She replied.

...

Daryl made his way out into the forest with a flashlight, it was the latest he had ever gone out and he hoped Y/N was still awake.

Daryl and Rick had gone off on a scouting mission that kept them away for a few days. Rick needed to collect medical supplies and some items for the baby.

Daryl smiled slightly when he saw firelight in the distance. He made his way towards it, turning off his flashlight as he approached.

"Howdy, stranger. I thought you forgot about me," Y/N said with a smile.

"Went out with Rick for a few days," Daryl said, sitting down on the ground beside her with his back leaned against the fallen tree trunk.

"Rabbit?" She asked, holding up the stick of cooked meat.

Daryl nodded, taking the stick from her outstretched hand and pulling some meat off the bone.

Y/N watched him eat for a moment before turning her attention back to the fire, "I missed you," She said.

"Missed you too," Daryl replied gruffly.

"You gonna stay out here tonight?" She asked.

He nodded, "I'm not climbing a tree though," Daryl said.

"You're going to sleep on the ground like a-" "Normal person? Yeah," Daryl said.

"Oh, so you think I'm abnormal?" Y/N questioned.

"Yeah," He stated.

"Don't insult me, Daryl, I'll fall in love with you," Y/N said.

He huffed a laugh, "Would that be a bad thing?" Daryl asked with a smile.

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any hotter," Y/N smirked.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n

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adrienjay · 9 months

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MORE TRANSFORMERS WITH BOWS. MORE. MOOOOORE.

CROSSBOWS. BOWS THAT SHOOT PLASMA ARROWS. BOWS THAT SHOOT PHYSICAL METAL BOLTS. BOWS THAT SHOOT FIRE.

SMALL BOWS THAT ARE EASY TO CARRY AROUND ON STEALTH MISSIONS. GIANT INDUSTRIAL STEEL BOWS THAT ONLY A BOT THE SIZE OF ULTRA MAGNUS CAN DRAW.

INTRICATE, ARTISTIC, GORGEOUS CAMIEN BOWS DESIGNED SPECIFICALLY FOR THEIR WIELDER. PLAIN GRAY MASS-PRODUCED BOWS FOR M.T.O SOLDIERS THAT HAVE HAD NAMES AND SYMBOLS AND DOODLES ETCHED INTO THEIR METAL BY PEOPLE WHO ARE DESPERATE FOR ANY OUTLET FOR SELF EXPRESSION AND INDIVIDUALITY.

DO YOU SEE MY VISION. DO YOU SEE IT.

#maccadam #transformers #I love “impractical” weapons in science fiction #I don't CARE if it makes less sense than blasters #Transformers is sci fi FANTASY we should get to have cool unrealistic shit #Also it makes sense for Camiens who can't waste energon in battle #Bows with physical arrows wouldn't consume energon when fired #Also tell me a gorgeously intricate camien bow wouldn't go hard as fuck

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ihavemanyhusbands · 27 days

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Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART ONE: DOG MEAT

Also on AO3

Mini-series masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Series Summary: Hunting down your father’s killer – a powerful raider by the name of Axl – you end up being saved from a bad situation by none other than a ghoul. After finding out you have goals in common, you form an uneasy alliance with him, but things get much, much more complicated than that.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, Dead dove: do not eat, canon typical violence, the ghoul being the ghoul, swearing, drug mentions/use (chems), enemies to lovers, eventual smut, blood/gore mentions, sorta dom/sub dynamics, some mentions of cannibalism, angst, some whump, aaaand for now that’s all i can think of but lmk if another tag is needed.

A/N: This is my very first time writing for Cooper Howard/The Ghoul, so I’m still trying to learn how he talks/carries himself. Excited to be writing this little mini series though! :) hope you like <3

———-

Blood flowed relentlessly toward your head, making the upside-down world blur into a vivid amalgamation of color. The raiders' laughter sounded more like the barking of jackals, coming from all around you, disorienting you further.

As you fought to stay conscious, your muscles strained against the ropes that held you up, the rough material biting into your skin. Your head was hovering just a few inches away from the surface of murky, radioactive water. You could feel more than see something lurking in its depths, hungry, waiting for the right time to strike.

And you? You were the bait to lure it out.

Where had it all gone wrong, exactly?

Well, perhaps it had started with you being so overly confident. Sure, you had learned more than a few dirty tricks in your years as a bounty hunter – having to keep yourself both fed and alive while you completed your actual mission – but that didn’t mean you could fight off a large group of brawny, ruthless raiders all by yourself.

At the very least, you’d managed to kill one of them and injure another with your crossbow before you were rewarded with a strike across your face. Bright white stars ignited in your vision as you were quickly subdued and strung upside down from the rusted arm of a broken crane.

The worst part was, you’d barely had time to ask any of the questions you’d wanted to ask. You supposed you’d never been a great interrogator, anyway, but that was something to concern yourself with another time; If there even was another time.

“Come on, where’s the fucking gulper? We don’t have all fucking day here,” one of the raiders, a big-headed bald man, gruffed.

Another one of them, scrawnier and rat-like, let out an amused grunt. “Heh, should’ve just chopped her up and sold her as dog meat.”

“Still time for that, if it doesn’t come,” the bald one said. “Think we should lower her more? If her head’s underwater, she’ll thrash around and maybe get the gulper's attention.”

At this, panic flared within you once more. You tried moving your wrists, legs kicking more and more urgently. The raiders laughed again at your rendition of the gallowdance. Your head felt like it was on fire, dangerously nearing an explosion.

Distantly, you heard the creak of metal as the rope that held you aloft was adjusted. Your body jerked as it began to descend, the crown of your head now submerged. Your mind raced as you tried to find ways to save yourself, but it was getting harder and harder to think. You wanted to scream, but you were only able to make a weak, gurgling sound.

There was a loud splash, entirely too close for comfort. Jeering from the raiders as they prepared for a gruesome show. You began to accept your fate, dismay over your failure to complete your life’s mission greater than your fear of death.

But suddenly, you heard various gunshots in rapid succession. It’s a fucking ghoul! somebody shouted frantically. The confused screams of the raiders followed along with some answering shots. The heavy thump of bodies collapsing, one by one.

It was silent for a moment, except for a breeze settling the dust and your heartbeat pounding in your head like a drum. Then there was the soft clink of spurs as someone approached you, an old pair of cowboy boots appearing in your vision.

You tried craning your neck to get a better view of your supposed savior. You could barely see his face, the sun haloing his head like a saint’s. But there are no angels in the wasteland, you thought deliriously, only roaming devils searching for carrion to pick on.

His voice was low and raspy, with a southern drawl that was almost soothing, in a strange way. “Well, well… Ain’tcha just the prettiest hunk of meat I ever did see?”

A shuddery gasp escaped your throat as you felt the rope loosen a little more, fully submerging your head. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you were swallowed by darkness, immediately unconscious.

—-----------------------------------------

“See that there?” your father whispered, pointing up at a cluster of stars. “That’s the big dipper. And just below its tail is the little dipper. Do you see ‘em?”

You nodded, awed by the simple, ephemeral beauty of a still night sky. Your father’s soothing presence, his patient teachings, the world not so horrible when seen through his eyes.

“Like us,” you said with a smile. “Always together.”

His smile was sad then. You couldn’t remember it being that way, but memories tended to warp over time, didn’t they?

“Yes, sweetie. Always together,” he said, trying to sound as promising as possible. “But if we ever separated, for whatever reason, remember that you can look up at the sky at night, and you will always find us there.”

—------------------------------------------

You woke up sputtering, thinking you were still underwater. Your stomach lurched violently and your body twisted onto your hands and knees, retching. Spewing bile as yellow as the RadAway you found yourself hooked onto. Panting with both exertion and disorientation, searing pain lancing through your skull.

It was close to sunset, the sky beginning to burn orange and gold, the atmosphere cooler. You were still at the quarry where you’d first encountered the raiders, but you were a safe distance away from the water.

You could smell and hear a small campfire nearby. Felt a presence behind you, a heavy gaze fixed on you.

“You must be all kinds of stupid, huh? Chargin’ into that battlefield of your own makin’, not even a hint of backup around to help.” The ghoul shook his head with amusement. “Then again, you must’ve been lookin’ for a guaranteed death… So which is it, suicidal or stupid?”

You spat on the dirt and roughly wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, glaring at him. If you knew one thing, it was to avoid ghouls as best as you could. Coming across one from time to time was inevitable, but you’d never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be saved by one. Or that you would still be in one piece in his presence.

At least he wasn’t worse for wear, and nowhere near feral. He was missing his nose, as all ghouls did, and his skin was leathery and burnt. His features were skeletal, shadowed under the wide brim of his hat. Otherwise… he wasn’t unbearable to look at.

“No? Y’ain’t gonna tell me?” he said, the curiosity in your stare not unnoticed by him. His eyes roamed over you in return. “Gotta be honest, I was real tempted to take a bite earlier, but I never really took a liking to dog meat.”

He chuckled and your frown only deepened, hatred and rage alight in your eyes. You tried to scoot further away, but it was then you noticed a rope was tied around one of your ankles, the other end of it under the ghoul’s boot.

“What do you want with me, ghoul?” You croaked, your throat scratchy and raw from the stomach acid.

“Well, that ain’t very grateful of you, sweetheart. I saved your skin back there,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment, unholstering his pistol. “I could’ve been just as unmerciful as those raiders, if not more.”

You swallowed hard at the imagery, but you didn’t let your dread show. “And why weren’t you?”

He leaned forward, barrel lazily pointed at you. His eyes narrowed expectantly, and you realized he truly wanted to hear some gratitude from you before continuing.

Stubbornly, you clenched your jaw shut and continued to glare. He looked off into the horizon, noticing how quickly the light was waning.

“Think you’d fare any better when the fiends come out to play? Or some super mutant?” He mused, his tone bored. “I ain’t got a whole lot of time here.”

After the day you had, you didn’t really want to take those chances.

The words crawled up your throat like a second wave of acid, scalding your tongue as you uttered them. “Thank you… for saving me.”

“Now there’s a well mannered girl. Knew you had it in ya,” he said with a roguish grin. “Y’know that means you owe me one, don’tcha?”

You dipped your chin in confirmation, hating that you couldn’t argue with him on that one. Not many — if anyone at all — were spared the wasteland, so this was not something to be taken lightly. Especially not while already being tied to him, with virtually zero chances of escaping alive.

“But I ain’t gonna cash in that favor now, so don’t worry your pretty lil head ‘bout it,” he continued, but you didn’t feel at all eased by that statement. “I do wanna know somethin’ though… just what on earth possessed you to follow those men?”

You blinked at him in both surprise and confusion. How did he know that?

“See, I’d been trailing that group of shitheads for a few days. Was after that big headed fella, the leader, Tiberius,” He waved his gun around dismissively, like that part of the story was irrelevant. “But then, I noticed they had another shadow behind them — A quiet lil mousey jus’ like yourself.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unsure of how much truth you should actually give him. “I was looking for some information.”

“What’s that?” He spoke up, cupping his hand over his ear. “What you mumblin’ for? C’mere so I can hear you better.”

With that, he stood up, yanking the rope with more force than was necessary. Your back hit the ground, dust and rocks scraping your skin as you were pulled towards his feet. Trying to stop yourself with your hands only ripped up your palms, so you went slack on the last tug towards him.

He tilted his head to one side as he observed you, a flash of teeth that showed his continued amusement.

“Much better. Now what was that you were sayin’, darlin’?”

You bared your teeth in return, internally fuming. “I said I was looking for some goddamn information.”

He gave you a mocking pout. “Aw, sweetheart… fella wasn’t as forthcomin’ as ya thought, was he?”

“Fuck you,” you spat before you could stop yourself.

“There’ll be time enough for that,” he chuckled, settling his boot on your hipbone. “But first, what kind of information were you tryin’a get?”

“Why do you care? The fuck’s it to you?”

The barrel of his gun was pointed at you once more in warning, right between your eyes. His boot pressed down on your hip until you squeaked, knowing it would bruise.

“His brother… Axl,” you panted, gripping his boot in a futile attempt to get it off you. “I need to - I need to find him.”

He let out a long, low whistle. “Axl, huh? Now I know you really got a death wish, and you’re just stupid to boot.”

“You wouldn’t get it, ghoul,” you said through gritted teeth. “I don’t expect you to know anything about losing someone you love.”

He tensed then, hand trembling for just the briefest second. His features hardened, chapped lips thinning into a flat, angry line.

He lifted his boot only to land a harsh kick to your ribs, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Again, you felt like hurling, coughing violently instead.

“Oh, I know a whole lot more than you think, smoothie,” he said, going silent for a moment as he seemed to think. “Why you lookin’ for Axl? I can jus’ take care of you right ‘ere if you want to die so badly.”

“I’m going to kill him, with my own fucking hands,” you growled, too spent to beat around the bush any longer. “He-he killed my father last year.”

The briefest moment of stunned silence before the ghoul burst out laughing.

“Ain’t that somethin’. You? Takin’ out the big bad raider all by yourself? Now I’ve heard it all,” he shook his head once again. “You’re a spunky little gal, I’ll give ya that much.”

“It’s the law of the wasteland,” you said. “He owes me.”

He crouched next to you, his interest fully piqued. One side of his mouth was pulled up in a sly grin, his gaze held by yours.

“Tell ya what, I myself got some business to attend to with our dear friend Axl, and I just so happen to know where the fucker likes to hide out,” he said, enjoying the sparkle igniting in your eye — that thirst for revenge, for blood.

“Please,” was the only thing you could say, breathless, gripping his tattered coat. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, huh?” His tongue ran over his teeth pensively. “Well, seeing as you owe me a favor, I was just gonna take you along with me. Easier that way for you to repay me.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, not wanting to stay on the ground. Your heads were much closer, but you tried your hardest not to let it get to you.

“What business do you have with him?” You asked warily.

“That ain’t none of your concern, darlin’,” he said, removing the rope from around your ankle to bind your wrists together. “Trust me or not, y’ain’t got no choice but to come with me. Now get up, gotta find ourselves a place to hole up in for the night.”

Painstakingly, you stood up, grunting with both pain and the exhaustion that suddenly crashed into you. As soon as you were on your feet, he tugged you forward, not waiting a moment longer before starting to walk.

“If things go tits up, well… Least I got myself a little snack for the road,” he said over his shoulder with a wink.

“I thought you said you didn’t eat dog meat.”

“Heh, well, you’re starting to prove to be a little more useful than that. But we’ll see about the taste.”

——

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout fanfiction #the ghoul fanfiction #cooper howard fanfiction #minors dni #monster tag #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul smut #the ghoul fanfic #cooper howard #the ghoul

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wannabespacesmuggler · 6 months

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D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Four | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks

Word Count: 1K

Author’s Note: Had a spurt of creative energy after work today and wrote this bad boy. I wanted to post it before I head off to bed. It isn't edited, might get around to that tomorrow. Anyway, let me know what you guys think of this one, if you want to be added to the taglist, or just want to ask me a question.

Extras: Playlist

A cigarette hangs from Daryl’s lips as he watches you attempt to start a fire. He sits at a table set up beside Dale’s RV, his legs kicked up on an extra folding chair. His fingers absentmindedly peel at the worn edge of his Marlboro Reds container. You mutter another string of expletives before chucking a piece of firewood into the surrounding woods. This causes Daryl to let out a short chuckle, which earns a glare from you.

The youngest Dixon has made a point of being more present around the camp since his almost altercation with Shane -- much to your boyfriend’s dismay. For the last several days, Daryl has made it his mission to keep a careful eye on you -- lingering wherever you happen to be and watching over you, like a loyal guard dog. Despite that, Daryl has also tried his best to not be overbearing. And if you ever told him to back off, he’d obey your wishes. You don’t mind though. Unlike Shane, Daryl’s presence isn't overwhelming and dominant. Daryl simply observes from the background -- he makes you feel safe.

“You’re welcome to help at any point, Dixon.”

Daryl puts out his cigarette on the heel of his boot before getting up from the table. He slings his crossbow around his torso and moves toward you. You sit back on your heels as Daryl approaches, wiping your hands off on your jeans. He drops down beside you and assesses your work.

“You almost got it. Jus’ need more tinder -- without it the kindling won’t light.”

You watch as Daryl grabs a handful of leaves from the ground and places it under the bunch of twigs you’d collected. He offers you a box of matches from his back pocket.

“Now give ‘er a try.”

You light a match and ignite the tinder. Unlike, your previous attempts, the kindling begins to light as well, creating a small fire. A smile spreads across your face and Daryl has to fight one off himself as he watches you giddily add more tinder to the growing fire. Before you can add any of the larger logs, Daryl leans down and gently blows on the fire. He gives you a nod when he’s content and you add a couple of larger logs. You both sit back against a fallen log, watching the flames. Daryl reaches into his pocket and pulls out his carton of Marlboros. He slips a cigarette between his lips before extending the carton out to you.

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

Daryl scoffs at your question as he lights his cigarette. He takes a drag and meets your gaze. You’re smiling at him, but your tone was surprisingly serious. He wonders if your concern for his well-being is sincere. You don’t know him. Not really. Then again, he doesn’t know you either, but here he is -- watching over you. He takes another drag of his cigarette before responding.

“Seems like everything’ll kill me these days.”

You chuckle softly, shrugging your shoulders at his comment.

“I can’t argue with that.”

You reach your hand out to Daryl, motioning toward the carton. He raises a brow but hands you a cigarette. Daryl watches you light it and take a drag. You tilt your head, glancing up at him with the cigarette hanging gracefully from your lips. He shouldn’t find it attractive. He shouldn’t be looking at you. As much as he dislikes it, you’re Shane’s girl.

But god damn.

He always knew the cowboy killers would take him out one day -- just not like this.

“You’re a bad influence, Dixon.”

Daryl awkwardly laughs and softly shakes his head, trying to remove the thoughts from his head. You don’t know how right you are.

Before he does something he regrets, he focuses his attention on the fire in front of him and the cigarette in his hand. You don’t attempt to start another conversation. The two of you sit beside the fire, finishing your smokes as the sun sets behind the trees. It’s peaceful. He usually prefers to spend his time alone; however, this isn't so bad.

Eventually, the peace is disrupted by Shane’s heavy footsteps. He doesn’t say a word as he passes by the fire, but you feel his eyes on you the entire time. You take a final drag of your cigarette, before turning to Daryl.

“I gotta…”

You trail off, pointing in the direction that Shane had just stomped off towards. Daryl gives you a nod, letting you leave without another word. You’re not going to lie, you’d rather sit here with Daryl than de-escalate your jealous boyfriend; however, you know talking to Shane is the right thing to do. Things have been tense since he saw you with Daryl several days ago and you’re doing everything possible to fix the situation.

As you open your tent and take in your surroundings. Shane is sitting on the edge of your shared cot, facing away from you. He glances back at you before pulling on a clean t-shirt. You kneel behind him on the cot and wrap your arms around his waist. Shane lets out a deep sigh at the contact.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you all day.”

“I’ve been busy.”

You nod hum into his shoulder and then stay quiet. You sit in silence for several moments, giving him an opportunity to talk about his day; however, he doesn’t say a word.

“Shane?”

“I told you I didn’t want you anywhere near him.”

You let go of his waist, sitting back further away from him on the cot.

“I know. It’s just…”

Before you can finish, Shane turns to face you. His eyes are ice cold. His jaw clenches as he looks at you. It makes you stop in your tracks. You’re starting to think that maybe you can’t fix this, but you’re still going to try.

“I’m sorry.”

Shane holds your gaze for a few more seconds before wordlessly laying down on the cot, with his back facing you. You let out a soft sigh and settle down next to him. And as you lay there, you begin to drift off wishing that you never got up from the fire.

Taglist: @darylsl0ver@minervadashwood@hotgirlsshareaccounts@taterbbbug@dreamtofus@youcantstandit@ajlovesdilfs@prettywhenibleed@luvsvnlqt-things@evie-beanie@strnqer@marina-isabella@lissanovak@elissanatok@1tsk1tty@moejoeflow@ceoofdisappointment@jewellthebooknerd@callsignwidow@genderless-ghosty-boi @all-will-be-well-love @tabzthemighty

#twd #walking dead #The Walking Dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #rick grimes #the walking dead imagine #shane walsh #merle dixon #glenn rhee #lori grimes #walking dead imagine #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus imagine #norman reedus

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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Go Get Him | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 10 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—fingering, face riding, oral (female receiving), submissive!Daryl, virgin!Daryl, grinding, edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex, swearing ❧ Word Count: 12.5k (oh they keep getting longer, don't they?)

❧ Requested by anonymous (this request)

❧ Summary: You've known Daryl for a long time, and you've flirted with him for a long time, too. Today's the day you finally take things to the next level and show him just how much you want him.

❧ A/N: Sub!Daryl, anyone?! God, I love shy, nervous, sweet baby Daryl. This version of Daryl is a little different from anything I've written so far, since I usually write Daryl as being a little more dominant/experienced than he is here, but I really like writing submissive/virgin Daryl, too!

“God, I want to do sinful things to that man.”

Rosita scoffed at your sudden declaration, turning her head to follow your gaze, which was glued onto the man in question as shaggy brown hair hung over his face, his greasy hands tinkering with the mechanics of his motorcycle. You hadn’t the first idea about motorcycles, but for him? You’d read every manual you could get your hands on just to show him how much you wanted him. Everyone already knew, though, except him.

“Do you think he likes to be on top or on the bottom?” you asked, your eyes not leaving his body as you undressed him with your mind. You took a casual sip of the homemade horchata Rosita had served you. “I’d love to hear his moans.”

“You’re such a whore,” laughed Rosita. “And you tease him, you know.”

“I know,” you replied with a devious smirk. “He likes it, he’s just too shy to say anything. I told you, I caught him staring at my tits.”

“That’s because you were bending over, and you purposely had on a low-cut dress, dumbass.”

You gently kicked her shin under the dining room table. “That’s not the point. He looked.”

She shook her head. “How long have you been flirting with him, anyway?”

You shrugged, smiling to yourself as you swirled the cinnamon stick in languid circles around the glass of that sweet rice drink. “Oh, six, seven years maybe? After things settled down with the Saviors.”

For most of that time, Daryl had been living on his own, out in the woods searching for Rick’s remains. Still, when he came to town every once in a while, it was your opportunity to engage him in conversation, to see how much you could pry open that stubborn shell and get him to smile just a little at your cheesy quips.

You learned a lot about him just from that, from the days spent hovering over his shoulder as you watched him gut a squirrel or ready his crossbow.

Maybe you had never really gotten anywhere with your occasionally rather obvious flirting, but you had a friend in Daryl. He’d dropped his guard as much as he could, and after a while of purposely brushing up against him, or “accidentally” touching his hand, he seemed to not stiffen at your touch as much as he once had, and the more you learned about him, the more you liked him, and the more attractive, nearly irresistible, he became to you.

When he finally returned to the fold a year ago, around the time the Whisperers began to cause problems, you didn’t hesitate to make him feel comfortable, to use your bubbly, extroverted personality to ease his mind when his introverted, cerebral psyche became too much for him to handle.

So it was more than just flirting or lustful teasing—you really did care for him, and something told you that he cared for you, too, but his shyness kept him from acting on his feelings.

Maybe Rosita was right. Maybe now was the time to really let Daryl know exactly how you felt. No teasing, no flirting, just the truth.

Well, you probably couldn’t really help yourself. You had to flirt with him, too.

“You’re just teasing yourself at this point, mami. You want him so go get him.”

It was tempting, more now than ever.

He was right there, not about to go on another mission, not about to come up with a stuttering excuse for him to do something “important” instead of spending the night with you, as you’d occasionally joke about to his face.

Still, he never outright rejected you. If he had, you’d have stopped in your tracks, not wanting to harass him, but he toyed with you in his own way, too. It was more subtle than your liking, and perhaps even accidental at times, but it was sweet, his own brand of flirting that was clumsy and unrefined, as if he were holding something back and stepping on eggshells. You surmised he was terrified of rejection himself, even though it was pretty clear that you wanted him.

“For real this time?” you asked. “I mean, should I go all out?”

“Depends,” said Rosita, leaning back in her squeaky wooden chair and folding her hands behind her head. “What do you mean by ‘all out’?”

“Hm…” You leaned forward, folding your arm on the table to lean your chin upon your hand as you watched Daryl wipe his hands of that filthy grease. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead to remove the accumulated sweat, but he only smeared it, creating an adorable streak of black. “Well, I have to get him alone. I don’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone… But I want to touch him. Just a little more than usual… Maybe I’ll wear that low-cut dress again.”

“No panties,” suggested Rosita. “That’ll get him riled up, I bet.”

“Oh, you’re a genius! But how am I gonna get him alone? He’s always busy.”

“He’s not busy right now,” replied Rosita with a smirk. “He’s just working on that stupid bike like he always is. Why don’t you go get that dress on and let your body do the talking?”

Not ten minutes later, you came sauntering across the street (sans panties), adorned in that contradiction of a dress.

It was at once seductive and innocent, with the motif of pale yellow buttercups blooming across a cream fabric, high empire waist and low-cut v neck wrapped bodice perfectly accentuating your chest, which Daryl seemed to like. The material was soft to the touch, a crinkled polyester with a bias cut that hugged your curves and reached your knees.

You didn’t know what to do with your hair, besides pinning it in a loose bun that lifted it from your hot neck while wispy strands framed your face and blew gently with the late spring breeze.

Strategically, you wore one of the pairs of earrings he’d brought back for you on one of his visits to Alexandria a few years ago. He had a habit of doing that, collecting trinkets and jewelry that made him think of you. The ones you had on now were your favorite—dangling blush pink jewels in a cluster that trickled down to a singular diamond in the shape of a heart. You hoped he’d notice that you were wearing them, but something told you he would. He always noticed things like that, even if he didn’t tell you. You could almost read him like a book at this point.

“Hi there, handyman.”

His hooded blue eyes peered over the seat of his bike to acknowledge you. Though he’d felt your presence getting closer, and even caught a sweet whiff of that sultry perfume you always wore, he’d tried not to let himself get distracted again, even if he was rather fond of being distracted by you.

“Hey,” he replied, that one syllable word already having an effect on you. His voice was at once smooth and silken as rich maple syrup, and yet with a flavor more like salted caramel. In any case, he sounded so sweet, sweet enough to rot your teeth. “Need somethin’?”

“You,” you said bluntly. As always, he shared with you that look, an initial look of serious consideration, peppered with sexual tension, and seasoned with a just pinch of disbelief. Then, as always, he scoffed.

“Pfft.” He shook his head, returning his focused gaze to his work, though you noticed he looked a little less focused than before. “Yeah, sure. What’s up, buttercup?”

He nudged his head to your body, correctly identifying the full yellow flowers painted on the fabric of your dress. He was the kind of man to know flowers and plants, to recognize them easily. Years of surviving in the wilderness would do that to you, but he was also observant, obsessed with details, especially yours.

“You like it?” you asked, sliding your hands down your own curves.

Raising his eyes to look at you once again, he bit his lip in thought, trying to look at you without imagining what you looked like underneath the dress in question.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Seen it before. Yellow suits ya.”

“Thanks… So, what are you working on?”

You planted yourself next to him, folding your arms as you watched him spin some kind of wrench around to tighten one of the bolts.

He dusted his knees as he stood to his feet, then removed his black rag from its place on the seat to wipe his hands once again.

“Jus’ maintenance, makin’ sure everything’s dialed in, tuned up, ready to go. Ain’t got much else to do.”

“Well,” you sighed, “now I’m here. That’s something else to do.” You side-stepped closer, brushing your shoulder against his. He didn’t seem to flinch at that, so your other hand crossed over to lightly trace up and down his arm, clothed in a long sleeve black button-up shirt.

He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say for a moment as your hand playfully tickled his sleeve. He’d only wished he’d been wearing a sleeveless shirt that day, just to feel your fingers on his bare flesh.

His feelings for you consumed him on a day-to-day basis, and though he knew you flirted with him, as you were doing now, he could never tell if you were serious, or if this was how you were with every man. Granted, most of your other friends were women, so he couldn’t really know for sure. All he knew was that many nights he’d woken up from dreams about you in a cold sweat, soaked in his own arousal, and with a tent pitched under his sheets.

He knew he loved you, he always did. It took him a while to admit it to himself, how much he cared for you, but old habits die hard, and he had a habit of suppressing his emotions, especially the kind that could get him hurt. Besides, why would you want to be with a guy like him, anyway? When he wasn’t out killing walkers or dealing with Whisperers, he was in his basement whittling arrows, or talking a little too much to his dog. He was shy, quiet, standoffish, even. Surely someone so gregarious and sociable as you would want nothing to do with him, right? Well, that’s where you confused him, in the best way possible.

Still, you brought something out in him, and whenever he was with you, he felt like he could let his guard down just enough to keep up with your quips, your teasing flirts, your contagious giggles. Being around you made him feel like a teenager again. Or, at least, how most people were as teenagers.

Daryl never had feelings like this before, not once. Sexual feelings hadn’t been apart of his life one bit until he realized he loved you. When people spoke of their relationships, of their sex lives, his brain went blank. They might as well have been speaking another language, and he might as well have been deaf.

All he knew of sex was how you made him feel, and when you touched him like you did, like you’d done so many times before, he found himself somewhere between terrified and euphoric.

“Pfft,” he scoffed with a nervous smirk, elbowing you playfully. “Ain’t ya got anythin’ better to do than talkin’ to an old man?”

You rolled your eyes, then looked around as you turned dramatically. “Gee, I don’t see any old men around here. All I see is a very handsome, sweet, strong—” You cut yourself off, noticing the blush blossoming on his cheeks. “Sorry,” you giggled. “So, you’re not busy right now, are you?”

Your voice was sultry and deep, deeper and more rich than usual. Even when you flirted with him more intensely, he’d never heard such a sweet sound.

His feet shuffled as he scratched his neck, his shoulder-length hair draped over his wrist. You’d always wanted desperately to get your own hands tangled up in that hair of his.

“Uh, guess not,” he said. “Why?”

Shit, you thought. I haven’t thought this far.

“Well, um…” You rocked your hips back and forth as you thought, unintentionally drawing his eyes to your midsection, a place on your body he’d thought about more than he’d care to admit.

An idea occurred to you then—Daryl was good with his hands, and surely he’d be able to help out around your house. Maybe he was good at plumbing. You could make up an excuse for him to come to your house, to “fix” something…

“My bathtub,” you said abruptly. “I—I mean, it’s all… clogged up. The water—it pools around my feet when I’m showering. I was wondering if you knew anything about plumbing? Maybe you could… snake my drain?”

Perfect, a nice sexual innuendo.

His eyes seemed to widen for a moment as he processed your words, and the bite in your lip and the sway of your hips didn’t go unnoticed. Still, however, he couldn’t comprehend this being anything other than a friendly interaction. At least, he didn’t want to assume you meant anything else.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat and scratched his head, avoiding eye contact as much as he could. If he looked into those intense, beautiful eyes of yours now, he was sure he’d get down on his knees and worship at your feet. “Well, what’s in it for me?”

You cracked a smile and a raised eyebrow at that. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if his light flirting was intentional, or just a byproduct of his cluelessness. Either way, it was adorable.

“Hm, maybe a kiss on the cheek?” you teased. “Or anywhere else you want a kiss…”

He scoffed and shook his head, stepping backwards and nearly tripping over his foot until he caught himself, eliciting an amused smirk from your lips. There was nothing more adorable than how he reacted to your flirting, and how nervous he could get.

“What about some peach pie?” he rasped, his voice seeming to break a little.

Oh, your famous peach pie. The only other thing he dreamed about besides you was your pie, made with fresh, plump peaches plucked from the tree outside your house. You’d first made it for him as a thank you for the first necklace he brought back for you, and from that point on, he always asked you for more.

“Peach pie, huh? Well, you know what, I just happen to already have a slice of peach pie with your name on it.”

That was a lie. So was the drain. You hated lying to him, but you figured it was for a good cause, and you hoped he’d appreciate what you had in mind once you got him alone in your house. Peach pie or not, at least you managed to employ the use of yet another sexual euphemism to hint at your intentions.

“Come on,” you said, tugging lightly on his hand. He didn’t jerk it away, he never did. His hand interlaced with yours felt too much like two matching puzzle pieces finally fitting together for him to pull away. He felt safe cradled in your touch, secure. As nervous as he could be around you, it was simply because he was terrified of saying the wrong thing, of embarrassing himself in front of you, even if he knew you could never be embarrassed of him.

“You’ve been spending too much time with that bike,” you said. “I’m starting to get jealous.”

He scoffed, feeling your hand tighten around his the closer you got to your house. He blushed as a few passersby eyed the two of you, their eyebrows raising in curiosity at the display. Surely they’d gossip about it behind his back, saying he was screwing you. No matter how much he sort of liked the idea of everyone thinking you were his, he tugged his hand from your grasp, wiping the sweat that had accumulated from his anxiety onto his jeans.

“That ole bike ain’t got nothin’ on you, buttercup,” he said, nearly tripping up the steps to your townhouse as you began fiddling with your keys to unlock the front door. “So, you got the stuff to snake the drain?”

You swallowed hard as you turned the key in the lock. “Mhm,” you lied, but you were so close to getting him inside where you could make your first serious attempt to seduce him. If you needed to lie once more to get him inside, you would. Besides, they were only little white lies. “Got everything you need in the house. I’m just not very good with that kind of stuff… Maybe I need a man around the house, one that’s good with his hands.”

Your voice had a suggestive lilt to it, and Daryl couldn’t help but imagine how nice it would be to be that man, to use those deft hands of his to pleasure you and touch you wherever you wanted him to. Maybe you imagined some man other than him, though, and the thought of any other man inside your house, doing his job, infuriated him slightly.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, stepping over the threshold as you held the door for him. “Don’t need a man to fix shit. I can show you how.”

“But then who’s gonna make you peach pie while you snake my drain, huh?”

You watched him remove his muddy boots, as was policy in your house so as not to track dirt through the place, but all you could think of was how you were one step closer to getting the man’s clothes off.

“Whatever you say… So where do you keep the drain snake?”

Shit.

Closing the door, you turned to face him, your eyes fluttering sweetly as you prepared to tell him that it was all just a ploy to get him in your house. Oh, but his face was so sweet in all its innocence, his eyes genuine as they glimmered in desire to help you. He was such a good man, always was. That made him immensely more attractive to you. He was gorgeous, too, with that beautiful bone structure and those strong, broad shoulders of his, but none of it meant anything to you if he wasn’t also a good person, and Daryl was perhaps the best person you’d ever met.

Not once had he taken advantage of you and your kindness towards him, even if perhaps you wished he’d take advantage of it. You were long past the point of wondering whether or not you loved him. You knew you loved him, that you’d let him do just about anything he wanted to do to you. Now you had him alone, you could make that abundantly clear to him.

“Why don’t we sit down for a bit?” you asked. “You want some water? I’ll get you a glass of water. Sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.”

He already knew he couldn’t be alone in private with you for long without feeling a near irresistible urge, an urge he was scared to realize. Today was worse than usual—you were in that dress again. You were wearing those earrings he’d gotten for you, and it was no accident that their diamonds were in the shape of a heart. It was his subtle way of showing his love for you, but the words just never materialized—vapor dissipating into thin air.

Most of all, you were sweet, delicate with each flourish of your hand as you lovingly poured him a glass of water in the kitchen across from the living room. Even such a simple gesture from you seemed so genuine and kind. No, no, he thought. She’s like this with everyone. She must be.

“Here you go,” you said with a smile, leaning down to hand him his glass. He eyed the thin lemon wedge perched on the side of the glass, and the slices of fresh cucumber floating in the clear liquid.

“Fancy water,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Mm, yes I did, Daryl.” You sat closer to him than usual, and you always sat close to him, much closer to him than anyone else sat. “You deserve nice things.”

The feeling of your hand massaging his shoulder did not escape him. In fact, he nearly choked on his water when you squeezed his muscular frame, trying to knead out the knots by his neck.

Still, he wasn’t uncomfortable, just nervous, and slightly confused by your gesture. It was more than you’d ever done before, but it felt good. Oh, did it feel good. Somehow, it gave him just a little spark of confidence, just enough to turn his thoughts into words: “Are you a nice thing?” he asked, surprising himself with the flirtatious lilt of his voice.

Your soft giggle drove him wild, its cadence somewhere between girlish innocence and erotic amusement.

“Well, that depends on who you ask… Do you think I’m a nice thing?”

His shyness washed over him again, causing him to nod shakily as he cleared his throat, his eyes drifting down to look at the translucent seeds of the cucumbers floating in his water.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered.

“Well, then I guess you deserve me…”

His heart fluttered along with every bat of your eyelashes, and with every whiff of that intoxicating perfume of yours, he knew he was done for, in one way or another. He wasn’t going to get out of this alive.

You saw him shift his shoulders as he looked back up at you, his eyes darting around your face in panicked circles. You offered him a small smile, laced with equal parts adoration and flirtation. In a flash, he shifted his eyes downward again, causing you to lean forward and tilt your head at the sudden return of his shyness. Still, you could tell that the man who could idly flirt back with you was in there, he was just nervous, maybe a little scared.

“Daryl,” you giggled under your breath. “All this time I’ve been flirting with you, you know that, right?”

He scoffed, the dismissive sound of which worried you for a moment. Maybe he never really had been subtly returning your flirtations, maybe he was just entertaining you. If so, you were sure that you, too, would soon be overcome with shyness and embarrassment.

It didn’t matter, though, because if you didn’t do something to make it extremely clear what you wanted, you were sure you’d be running around in circles with this man for the rest of your lives. You had to make a move, a bold one. Daryl seemed to respond better to actions than words, as you were almost sure if you straight up said, “I love you,” he still wouldn’t know what to say.

Go get him, you heard Rosita’s voice echo inside your head.

You’d kissed his cheeks before, and every time you had, he apparently must’ve seen that as a friendly gesture, so you were determined not to do that again.

With your hand delicately, yet firmly, grasping his chin, you pulled him closer, eyeing him steadily to silently keep his attention on you. “Tell me if you don’t want this,” you whispered, and slowly closed the gap, pressing your lips lightly against his.

His body and brain went numb, practically dead to the world. He couldn’t even comprehend what was happening, even if it was technically something he’d imagined many times before. Your lips barely touched his, but they were so soft, so warm and pillowy. Better than any pillow he’d ever had in his life. He couldn’t escape the feeling of wanting more, of wanting to wrap his arms around you and kiss you the way you deserved, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know the first thing about kissing, or pleasing a woman, as far as he was concerned. He knew nothing, except from silly childhood “girlfriends” he pecked lips with, and even that was reluctant. For a long time he wondered if he could love anyone, have feelings, sexual or otherwise, for anyone. You changed everything. He touched himself for the first time in several years the day he met you. He didn’t know it then, but you had awakened that in him.

You didn’t move for a while, trying to gauge his feelings, but it was hard to tell, as he sat frozen, eyes wide and lips trembling against yours. “Daryl,” you sighed, pulling away to make sure he wanted this. “I need you to communicate with me… Do you want to kiss me?”

Hell of a lot more than that, he thought.

“Yeah,” he mumbled softly. “Jus’… Ain’t a very good kisser, that’s all.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, encouraging him to smile just a little too, though his was much more crooked, almost boyish in his innocence.

He shivered a little when your arms wrapped around his neck, your glass of water having been surrendered to the coffee table at some point. He watched you fold your legs under your body, and a glimmer in your eye hinted at mischief as you remembered you weren’t wearing any panties. You could feel the back of your shins grazing your bare lower lips as they peeked out between your thighs, unbeknownst to the painfully bashful man before you. It invoked sinful thoughts within you, as you wondered just what it would feel like for his large, strong hand to slip under your dress and feel your most intimate area.

“Well, that wasn’t a real kiss,” you said. “Can I give you a real one?”

He swallowed hard, eyes trailing down to your lips as you licked them, leaving behind a glossy sheen, like dew on the pink petals of a peony. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that he wanted you, even if he couldn’t quite believe you wanted him. It still seemed so surreal, like some kind of fever dream made too vivid from the cold sweat drenching his aching body in his sleep. Every cell was on fire, every square inch of skin begged to be touched by you. His lips seemed to sting with need as he wanted nothing more than to feel your mouth on his.

“Yeah,” was all he could muster, but it was enough to indicate that he wanted more, even if he was too shy to say something more eloquent. He never really had a way with words, but at least you did.

Your lips parted before meeting his, eager to show him exactly what kind of kiss you had in mind. Your arms coiled tighter around his neck to bring him closer, until the tips of your noses met. He always had such a cute nose—a short, slightly sloped button with a soft, fleshy tip. Just being this close to him, so close to meeting his lips with yours, was enough to elicit a giggle under your breath, one that alerted his attention to yours eyes instead of your lips.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asked, his own voice beginning to crack with a few chortles.

“Your nose is so cute,” you laughed. His eyes followed yours as they darted all over his face, admiring every sunspot and freckle and blemish and crease and wrinkle and—Well, you couldn’t stop yourself. He was so beautiful to you. Your thumb brushed against his jaw as his own hand moved cautiously to rest on your knee, though not without nearly immediately pulling it away.

“You can touch me,” you whispered against his lips. “Please touch me.”

Your more confident hand took a hold of his to rest it once again on your knee. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn you felt him squeeze it, but maybe it was just a nervous reaction.

The featherlight feeling of your lips slotting around his was deeper than before, with each crease melding perfectly into one another. It was slow for you, slower than tectonic plates, but you knew an earthquake was well on the way, as you couldn’t stand to be interlocked with him without shaking the fault lines. You needed to move, to go deeper, to plunge your tongue between his trembling lips.

First, you got a tighter grip on him, your hands pulling him closer by his shoulders until he simply had to part his lips for you. Hot breath seeped in through the cracks, alerting your tongue to the breach. With almost a mind of its own, it darted teasingly into his mouth as your lips massaged his.

Soon his hand gripped tight to only the crinkled polyester fabric of your dress his fist balled up and curling around the material as he concentrated hard on savoring the moment, not overthinking. Even in your embrace, he wondered if you knew what you were doing, if you were only kissing him out of some kind of pity. Maybe you would regret this. Surely, you’d regret this. Well, that’s what he thought, but you were too busy trying to rouse his tongue with yours.

His kiss was awkward, and a bit stiff, even if it was quite obvious he was trying to match the fluid, expert movements of your intoxicating mouth. His tongue couldn’t quite keep up with yours, and his lips only moved to gasp for air, or to try taking the lead when he seemed not to know exactly what to do.

At least your hand in his hair seemed to rile him up, his deep grunt of appreciation reverberating in your mouth as your fingers weaved through those messy brown locks like yarn. It sent a jolt through him, turning him briefly into a live wire as he moved his head in sloppy, wild motions, trying to get his lips to loosen and match your movements, though he really just hit your nose with his, back and forth, until you were giggling into his mouth.

“Whoa, slow down there, stud,” you teased, your lips moving to his cheek to kiss him there, all while your hand tucked under his hair to stroke his neck. It only made the hairs on it rise even more, and something else began to rise in his pants, too. “As much as I love your nose, I think it’s getting in the way.”

He swallowed hard, suddenly turning red at the realization that he’d never kissed anyone before. Nearly fifty years old, he thought, and never kissed a woman before… Yeah, real stud.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I ain’t, uh… I ain’t done that in a long time.” A long time as in never.

“Me neither,” you said. “I liked it… Did you like it?”

With your hand cupping his cheek again, and your lips pressing lightly against the other, he couldn’t dream of any alternative universe in which he didn’t like that kiss. That was everything he’d wanted for almost seven years. Of course, he wanted so much more, but that kiss? That was the start of it all, the foundation for a whirlwind he was hoping to get swept up in.

“I loved it,” he said, a little more enthusiasticly than he’d hoped. He wanted desperately to play it cool, to act like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. Oh, it was everything to him. If he could stay this close to you for the rest of his life, he’d do it in a heartbeat. “You, uh… always wanted to do that?”

Oh, you sweet, silly man, you thought. Getting lost in those deep, grey-blue eyes of his was the best part of looking at him, so that’s what you did, shaking your head as you wondered if he knew just how much of an effect he had on you. Even from just once sloppy, haphazard kiss, you were getting those familiar tingles in your core, the ones that told you there was something particularly arousing in your midst.

“I thought that was obvious. I think about you all the time, Daryl… I want to kiss you all the time. I love being with you.”

Even he couldn’t comprehend how long he’d wanted to hear you say that. He couldn’t stay silent, even if he just wanted to bask in the afterglow of your sweet words, the ones that tickled his ears and caused a stupidly wide smile to split his face in half. You’d never seen him smile that wide before. In fact, you’d seen it only in your imagination, but real life blew that hazy daydream out of the water.

“I, uh… I love bein’ with you, too. I wanna kiss you, too. All the time.”

A swell of short-lived pride filled his chest, but it deflated quickly as he remembered how inexperienced he was, how he surely couldn’t please you the way you wanted, and judging by the way your hand was guiding his back to your leg, you wanted him to please you.

The fabric of your dress crept up your bare thigh as you gently guided his hand, which had seemed to almost be numb as he let you take it where you wanted.

His eyes couldn’t help but look down, watching as the skirt of your dress slowly lifted with each inch his hand moved with yours. You stopped before his hand lifted your dress to reveal your nakedness, but you did lean forward to whisper in his ear, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

How you had always wanted to say that to a man. In the movies, that always seemed to rile them up, so you were sure it would get him flustered, too. Well, you hoped, anyway.

Your chest pressed tight up against his, and you could just feel his heart beating so fast and strong, and so much warmth emanating from him. It felt like getting too close to a fireplace, with that overwhelming heat igniting your cheeks. It was a good feeling, though, a comforting hearth that felt like home. Nothing could possibly be more attractive.

“Maybe it’s a good thing, though,” your voice spoke huskily into his ear. “Whenever I’m around you, my underwear always ends up getting soaked. Better to just get rid of them, huh?”

He had no idea when you maneuvered yourself to sit atop his lap, legs straddling his waist and your bare core rubbing up against his jeans, but it became clear to him when your next kiss awoke him from whatever trance you’d put him in.

As your tongue desperately wriggled into his mouth again, begging for his sloppy kiss, he groaned against your mouth and grasped your waist with his hands, pulling your lips away with a small whimper from you.

Shit, you thought. He doesn’t want this… He doesn’t want me. I’m a dumbass.

“Daryl,” you said, slightly panicking as you feared you and your forwardness had blown any chance you had with him, “I… I’m sorry. I thought—”

“It’s not you,” he said. “It’s, uh…”

“Oh, I’ve heard that one before,” you sighed. “It’s not you, it’s me, right?”

Shit, he thought. I’m a dumbass.

“Nah. I mean, uh… Yeah, it’s me.”

“You don’t want this?”

His hands tightened around your waist in a slight panic, as if terrified you’d get up and leave without hearing his explanation. Well, maybe it would have been better if you didn’t hear his explanation: he was a virgin.

He’d just never met anyone he felt this way about, and sex had never been a priority. He wasn’t completely unaware, though. He knew what sex was, he’d seen porn before, mostly Merle’s overdue video tapes he rented from the local adult film shop back in Georgia, but that wasn’t real sex, of course. Even he knew that.

“N-no,” he said, and immediately shook his head to contradict himself. “Shit, I mean, yes. I want this. I want… I want you.”

Your eyes turned soft as your lip quivered into a sweet, relieved smile. He let out his own low sigh of relief as your hand raised to cup his cheek. It never failed to enchant him how soft your hands were. “I want you, too… So what’s wrong?”

If there was one thing he admired about you, though he loved just about everything, it was your straightforward nature, your tendency to lay your cards out in front of him and wear your heart on your sleeve for the whole world to see. Now that he knew you wanted him, he wondered why you hadn’t told him earlier, but maybe you liked teasing him. Evil woman, he thought. She knows what she does to me.

Never before had the word evil been used as a compliment, until now. He liked how evil you were, if being evil was teasing him for seven years to the point he’d probably turn into a puddle of goo if you so much as grazed his lower abdomen. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a result of your teasing, or just how inexperienced he was.

“I just, uh… I haven’t done it in a real long time.”

Don’t lie, dumbass. You ain’t never done it.

“Oh, Daryl,” you laughed, “I haven’t done it in a long time either. I think it’ll feel even better, don’t you?”

As your confidence began to return to you, you found yourself tracing your fingertip along the collar of his shirt, and your eyes began to descend down his neck, the muscles in which seemed about ready to burst through the surface of his skin as he strained himself not to seem too desperate. He could practically feel the blood rushing to his head when your fingers parted the lowest point of his collar, making their way to his top button. Sparse hairs of light caramel color dotted his chest, which became more and more exposed to you as your fingers snapped together to undo that first button.

Your tongue wetted your lips as if on its own accord, your mouth becoming dry with each heavy breath you took. All the willpower in the world couldn’t stop you from impatiently attacking each plastic circle down the front of his shirt, ripping the fabric apart until his chest was bare, though his shirt still clung to his shoulders.

A slight trance took him over as he became almost immobilized, eyes wide and mouth agape as he watched your hands fight each other to figure out how to undo his belt.

“Mm, I’ve wanted this for so long,” you said, each word pouring out in an increasingly desperate whimper. “Kiss me.” You couldn’t even wait for him to shake himself out of that trance. Instead, you just crashed those trembling lips onto his, hands still fumbling to get that belt out from the loops.

Low, sultry groans emitted from your mouth and reverberated inside his. Without much other thought in his paralyzed brain, he grasped at your waist and squeezed you until you let out a breathy whimper of his name.

“Fuck me,” you sighed against his cheek, and soon you found yourself buried in the tresses of his hair, your lips pursed and peppering his scalp with kisses as your free hand clumsily searched for the button to his jeans. For a moment you gave up, lowering your hand to find the bulge in his jeans, growing and becoming more prominent with each movement of your body, somehow shivering despite the heat coursing through you like a lava flow. “I’ve waited so long for you… handyman.”

That little moniker reminded him, sending him flinching a little in your grasp as he awoke from his brief immobilization. You only held onto him tighter, gripping his thigh with one hand and his shoulder with the other. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with your shower drain, is there?”

Your lips curled into a mischievous smirk. He’d finally caught on, it seemed. “No, but I still need your… expertise.”

Expertise, he thought, all the while trying to match your smirk, despite his inner state of panic. I got no damn expertise, woman.

He nearly opened his mouth to say something, to finally admit his lack of experience to you, but the feeling of your hand gripping his, leading it swiftly underneath the skirt of your dress, rendered him speechless.

A pink rosy haze swelled around him, clouding his vision until all he could see was your face, your body, your eyes closed and your lips spread apart as his palm tickled you in the place where you hadn’t felt a foreign touch in so long. You’d always been waiting for Daryl, hoping he’d come to you first. You’d turned other men in Alexandria down before, waiting for the burly yet inordinately quiet archer to finally kneel down at your feet and admit to you his feelings that you knew deep down he shared for you.

The touch of a man’s hand had at least been known to you, but for Daryl, he’d never felt this before. The sparse carpet of short, slightly curled hairs cushioned his thumb, while the other fingers clumsily spread apart your lips, slightly wetted by your arousal. When his mind caught up with his actions, he realized you were telling the truth—you weren’t wearing any panties. As he thought back to earlier, you standing so close to him, petting his arm and flashing those sultry bedroom eyes his way, he couldn’t help but imagine a droplet or two trickling down your thigh, uninhibited by the presence of underwear.

“I love your hands on me,” you sighed under your breath, barely audible for him to hear, as if you didn’t even need him to hear, you just needed those words to linger in the air for a moment, so it was known by even the tiniest speck of dust in that room that you loved this feeling. “Daryl… I need you.”

It wasn’t even just a want anymore, not a flight of fancy or anything that could ever evaporate from your mind. It was an intensity for a man you’d never felt before, and if you didn’t have him soon, you were sure you’d go mad.

“I—I need ya, too,” he stuttered mindlessly, his fingers wiggling in sloppy movements as he blindly felt around below your dress, that strange feeling of touching something he’d never touched before. It was so new, so exciting. Every inch of his body grew tense and taught, pulled tighter than a tourniquet with each stroke of his fingers against your folds. Still, he had no idea what he was doing, and that uncertainty got the better of him. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.”

You hummed a sweet, “Hm?” through your smiling lips. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? he thought to himself. Shit, this is really happening. If this was what it was like to be loved, he had a feeling it would become a guilty pleasure for him. That sound of your angelic voice calling him something so sacred was so surreal, and so very sweet.

He felt your hand tighten around his, guiding him to keep his palm pressed against you.

“I ain’t ever…”

His voice trailed off as you leaned forward to press your lips against the center of his chest, where the most tempting crop of short, sparse chest hairs dotted his broad frame. Spreading your lips, you licked languid, sloppy circles over his skin, taking in the feeling of those hairs dancing with your tongue.

Desperately keeping his hand under your dress, you manipulated his pliable fingers to enter you slowly, causing his breath to hitch in shock at the feeling.

“(Y/N),” he said. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not when that warm, silky embrace was swallowing his fingertips in the most delectable way. “I—I ain’t never… Fuck.”

“Mm, tell me more,” you laughed against his chest. “I love your voice… Say my name again.”

He swallowed hard and shut his eyes tight as he tried so hard not to lose control of himself before he could tell you what he needed you to know, but the truth was he quite liked your name on his voice, too, and he had a proclivity for saying it, especially whenever he touched himself.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, a gruff and raspy sigh, but a sigh nonetheless. “I’ve never done this before.”

The vibration of your playful laughter against his pec as you kissed him there seemed to be a bad sign. What if you were laughing at him, laughing at how he couldn’t possibly ever please you? Clearly you wanted him, and now he couldn’t be the man you needed to satisfy you. A virgin? Surely that wasn’t the kind of man you expected him to be, and surely it wasn’t the kind of man you deserved. Not only that, but Daryl was no young man. He was much past the age of a typical virgin, so how was he supposed to excuse it? It just was never something he’d been very interested in, never something he’d been offered, either. Now here he was, with a woman who was just about ready to let him make love to her, and now he might’ve just blown it. Still, you needed to know. He owed you that, he thought. He needed you to know what you were getting into.

Now you knew.

Well, he had hoped you knew.

“Mm, done what before?”

Fuck. Ain’t it obvious?

“Never, uh…”

There’s no way, you thought. There’s no way this man is a virgin.

“Daryl,” you said, more seriously now as you lifted your head to look in his eyes, trying to find the truth as disbelief clouded your vision. Surely Daryl had women clamoring for him before the world ended. Surely he’d been with women before. You knew for a fact that there were a handful of women in Alexandria ready to drop their pants in a heartbeat for him. Hell, you were one of them, though you’d somehow managed to scare most of them off with your less than subtle attempts to publicly portray a more intimate relationship with Daryl, even if you’d never done anything more than kiss his cheek. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve never had sex before?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Oh, Daryl,” you laughed, raising your hands to cup his cheek. “That’s okay.”

“Really?” he asked, dumbfounded by your continued affection as your hands massaged his chest, pushing his shirt further off his shoulders. “Ya ain’t… disappointed?”

“Well, I’m sitting on the lap of the man I’ve had feelings for for seven years. I think there’s very few things that could disappoint me right now.”

That crooked, boyish smile that spread on his face was enough to show just how much that meant to him, how much relief washed over him. Still, it faded when another thought occurred to him.

“But what if I can’t… What if I can’t satisfy ya?”

You chuckled under your breath at the notion. “You’ve already satisfied me,” you said, causing his brows to knit together in confusion at the statement.

Leaning forward, you whispered in his ear, but only after taking a delicate bite of his earlobe. “I touch myself every night thinking about you,” you said. “Thinking about all the things I want you to do to me…” Your hand reached down to lift his fingers to his own lips, and that innocent confusion in his eyes as he looked at you only ignited a deeper fire within you. “Taste me.”

Something about the demand in your voice as you instructed him seemed to rule him up. You never commanded him before, not with such controlling need. He liked it, surprisingly. He liked when you bossed him around, especially since he had no clue what he was doing.

His tongue slipped out between his lips, as his eyes still locked firmly onto yours. Those fingertips sank effortlessly into his mouth, as a simple lick was not enough. He took four of his fingers inside, sucking them gently to absorb every last drop of you.

“Mm, good… Do you like that?” you asked, hands now massaging his scalp as soft, wavy caramel tresses draped over your attentive fingers.

It was almost patronizing how you spoke, as if you were amused by his relative innocence. Still, he liked how you spoke to him, so controlling and yet so soft, in that angelic voice of yours. You knew what you wanted, that much was clear, and Daryl knew what he wanted, too, but he’d need you to guide him. It was evident that you were more than willing to do so.

“Like it a lot,” he answered, tentatively returning his hand to the pot of dripping honey between your legs, though he stopped himself at the hem of your dress. “Can… Can I have some more?”

In a flash, you tugged on his hair, pushing his head back until it rested forcefully on the edge of the couch. His grunt of surprise echoed for a moment, turning you on far more than you intended.

“You want more?” you asked, brushing your nose up against his as your face and body pinned him down. Of course, he could probably throw you off him if he wanted to, but that was just the thing—he didn’t want to, not in a million years. He had you right where he wanted you, on top of him. “What do you want more of, sweetheart?”

He bit his lip and nodded his head, as if it was obvious. “Wanna taste you more.”

“On your fingers?”

“Yeah…” His tongue poked out between his lips as he desperately reached up to kiss you, and you let him, for a moment, until that sloppy tongue got too wily. He needed to be tamed, you thought. He needed control, otherwise he’d lose himself before he could even relish in the pleasure of his first time.

With a gentle, but firm, pull of his hair, you removed his saliva-soaked lips from yours, though it was tempting to keep him there, even if he was a sloppy kisser. In fact, you quite liked it that way.

“I got a better idea,” you whispered against his lips, which trembled in an attempt to close the space and devour you once again. “Lay down.”

As you raised yourself from his lap, you eyed the rather prominent bulge outlined in his jeans. Your thighs seemed to instinctually rub together, providing your sensitive area with a little relief until you could feel the friction you needed from him.

He seemed hesitant at first, slightly embarrassed by your eyes scanning his body. As he scooted forward, ready to maneuver himself, you called out another order: “Take your shirt off.”

The quarter-length sleeved button-up was still clinging to his shoulders, and you needed to see that strong, broad chest in all its glory. Clearing his throat, he relented, bashfully stripping himself of his shirt. Noticing his slight shame, probably from the numerous scars he’d developed over the years on his chest, your eyes turned soft and understanding. You, too, had your fair share of scars. Everyone who’d lived long enough in this world had them.

“You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about,” you said softly, hoping he wouldn’t recoil at your reassurance. “Your body is beautiful.”

He swallowed hard as he came to terms with your eyes taking him in. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look in the mirror many times before, examining his own nakedness and wondering what you’d think. Most of the time, he told himself you’d hate his body, how worn it was. He was bulky, too, and you were so soft and delicate in his eyes. Surely you’d have wanted someone more lean and with a smaller frame, but no… You thought he was beautiful. You said so yourself. He couldn’t argue with you, not even if he wanted to.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said, a nervous chuckle undercutting his gruff voice. It was so sweet to see him so shy as he called you beautiful for the first time. He’d hinted at it before, usually with the odd “you look nice,” or “I like your hair,” but never something so direct.

“Lay down,” you repeated, approaching slowly as you watched him lean back until he was lying face-up on the sofa, waiting for you.

His curiosity piqued when you straddled his stomach, rubbing your bare slit up and down his abdomen. You felt him tense up, and you could tell by the frozen movement in his chest that he was holding his breath, nervously expecting something.

“Just relax,” you laughed, letting your hands rest on his pecs to feel his breathing begin to return. He seemed to like your touch on his chest. “Let me show you how to do it… You still want to taste me again?”

He nodded slowly, keeping his trembling hands steady on your waist. “Yeah…”

“Good,” you said. “I like your tongue.”

As you slid up further on his chest, until his chin met your pelvis, you looked down to speak once more. “I'll guide you.”

Lifting yourself up, you straddled his face, then lowered yourself as you felt his hands curl around your thighs, pulling you further down. “Whoa,” you laughed, steadying yourself on his face as his tongue blindly searched for your entrance. “Settle down, partner.”

You pulled back the hem of your dress to meet his eyes, and watched them flit open to meet yours. His tongue moved in quick, rapid, hungry attempts to taste you, causing you to hiss under your breath at the sloppy movements as he only darted past your clitoris.

Pulling him gently by his hair, you guided his mouth to your clit, and held his head there with both hands, circling your thumbs over his temples. “That’s the spot,” you said. “Lick me there…” You tightened your grip on his head, swirling it around until his tongue was moving just the way you wanted it to, slow and steady. “Kiss me too.”

His lips suctioned around your clitoris as he kissed you there, all while his tongue moved at the pace you instructed. You kept your hands tangled in his hair, moving his head like a puppeteer holding her puppet on a string.

“Kiss and lick…” you sighed, watching his eyes flutter closed and his nostrils expand with each heavy breath. “Open your eyes.”

His hazy, blue-grey eyes opened just enough to see you peel that cream-colored dress from your body, revealing a pale pink bra that kept your breasts tightly contained. As the dress folded over your head, it took with it the scrunchie that had once held your loose updo in place, rendering the messy tendrils to spill over your shoulders and your face. With one hand, you tossed the discarded garment, and with the other, you moved the hair from your eyes to look back down at him, enraptured.

You reached back to unclasp your bra until the straps came loose, allowing you to slowly pull it from your chest until the lukewarm air of the living room hit your nipples just enough to get them stiff.

“Keep going,” you said, noticing his lips and his tongue had stopped moving, as he was in a state of awe. “You’re doing so good, Daryl.”

His tongue on your clit again, you began to rock back and forth, attempting to ride his tongue for the first time. He let out a grunt against you, but it wasn’t out of displeasure, that much was evident—his tongue moved more rapidly now, desperately lapping at your clit until he lost control of himself, moving his tongue back down to breach the entrance. You felt his tongue squirm inside you, tickling the shallow part of your hole.

“Oh…” you moaned under your breath, rocking with more vigor to match the clumsy wiggles of his tongue inside you. His head began to move side-to-side, causing the tip of his nose to tickle your clit with each pass. “Dar-Daryl, I… Oh, God.”

You felt his forearms wrap tight around your bare thighs, moving you at the pace of his tongue until you weren’t moving on your own accord anymore. His tongue and lips moved frantically, switching from your clit to your hole in rapid bursts as he couldn’t contain himself from sucking, licking, and kissing every part of that area. It was already so addictive, so delicious. He groaned deep against you, his way of begging you to ride him harder until you came on him, but he was going too fast for your liking, moving his mouth too hungrily.

“S-slow down,” you moaned, squeezing the back of the couch with one hand and tugging on his hair with the other. “Take it easy… No hurry. Just go slow… I like your tongue down there.”

He nodded, bringing his tongue back to your clit, where he let his head move once again with the guidance of your hands. “Good boy,” you laughed under your breath. You heard him groan underneath you, another groan of pleasure. “You like that?”

He nodded again, letting out another groan as his lips suctioned with your folds to make the most sinful sound, intermingling his saliva with your wetness.

“Just keep your head still,” you instructed. “And let me ride you.”

You clamped your hands to each side of his head, keeping him still as you slowly moved against the grain of his tongue’s flicks. Your back arched and your core grinding back and forth, you lowered your hands to meet Daryl’s as they rested on your thighs.

His hands went numb at your touch, letting you bring them up to your breasts, where you encouraged his hands to massage the supple tissue. His fingers moved clumsily as he tried to focus on his tongue pleasuring you, and the feeling of your breasts under his palms, bouncing with each thrust you made.

You moved at a steady rhythm, and his tongue began to match it, though all he wanted was to reach down for a moment and relieve himself over his jeans, which tightened and constrained his erection, the likes of which he was sure he hadn’t felt before. He’d had plenty of erections, but this? This was different. This was torturous.

Your hand encouraged his fingers to pinch your nipples, but one hand dropped down to palm at his clothed cock. You groaned, leaning back to replace his hand on your breast.

“You’ve got to make me come first,” you said with a smirk. “Then I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”

He nodded, then moved to take one last deep breath of air before latching his mouth tight to your clit.

“Ugh!” you cried out, throwing your head back with the shockwave that teared through your abdomen. You were close to the height of your pleasure, after so long of Daryl’s tongue dancing wildly in an attempt to find his rhythm. You couldn’t say you didn’t like his sloppiness, though. It was cute, in a way. At least he listened to your instructions, for the most part. “That’s it, right there…”

He drew tighter and tighter circles around your sensitive spot, each swirl of his tongue tugging on the tightness in your core and getting you closer and closer to the climax. As his hands gripped tight around your thighs, you leaned back, arms stretched backwards to prop yourself up, hands resting on his lower abdomen as your body rocked back and forth, getting as much friction as possible against his tongue.

“Oh, yes!” you called out into the air. “Keep going… Daryl… Yes… Oh…”

One last thrust against his tongue sent your body into a cascade of pleasure as your orgasm pulsed through you. You let out a delirious laugh between deep, sultry moans. Each pulse caused your body to drag your slit back and forth over his tongue instinctually, letting your throbbing clitoris absorb even more pleasure.

With the last shockwaves of your orgasm, you maneuvered yourself until his tongue met your pulsing hole, dripping with the evidence of your orgasm. He didn’t hesitate to jut his tongue into your entrance, allowing himself to catch the droplets and to feel the last clenches of your moving walls.

Your hands held his as they rested on your hips, then dragged them slowly up the curve of your body until they cupped your breasts, sensitive and taught from your arousal. Lifting yourself from the lower half of his face, you straddled his chest until you could see his lips, glistening with saliva and raw from overuse. His eyelids were heavy, with only a sliver of those overcast sky blue eyes hazily watching you languidly drag your core up and down his abdomen.

His chest heaved as he panted, and as he caught his breath, you lowered yourself further until you felt the scratchy fabric of his jeans underneath you. Leaning forward, you took his panting lips in yours, massaging them gently to ease their exhaustion. You felt his arms coil around your back, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost one. It felt so natural being above him, letting him hold you close as his lips picked up the pace and demanded more movement from yours.

Soon his tongue was moving wildly inside your mouth again, and his hands moved desperately up and down your back, one finally landing on your bottom, the other tangling in your hair, forcing his kiss to go deeper.

The pressure from his grip on your ass made your core come into closer contact with his until you could feel the intense erection confined in his jeans. The pressure on your clit was too strong not to react, so your body instinctively moved, grinding your lower body back and forth over his clothed cock. He let out a deep hiss between your lips, and gripped harder onto your hair and ass as he threw his head back, finally separating himself from the lock of your lips.

“Ah, fuck!” he cried out. That sensation of your body dragging itself up and down his cock was torturous, in the way the most delectable pleasure can become so intense it turns itself into the most abject pain. “I need ya,” he whimpered, a small cry of help you’d never heard from the stoic man before. You hated to admit it, but it was beautiful to see him crumble, just a little. He was always so strong, so fearless in the face of the terrors from the outside world, and yet, with you, he was nervous, timid, and now, begging you for release from his state of arousal-induced agony. “I need ya so bad.”

A slight smirk across your face, you slowly sat up, purposefully putting more weight on your core as it sunk deeper into his.

“Shit!” he yelped, raising his head to look down, seeing what you were doing to him.

You bounced gently on his clothed erection, hoping to tease him just a little more before you released the poor thing from its entrapment.

“Ah, fuckin’ shit! You’re gonna make me come ‘fore you get my pants off, woman.”

“You better not,” you said. “Not before I get you inside me.”

He nodded rapidly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as your hand reached between your legs to stroke his clothed cock. “(Y/N),” he stuttered. “I can’t wait no more.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then let’s get these pants off.”

You felt his legs squirm as you lifted yourself up just enough to unbutton his jeans, then pull down the zipper until you could see the dark grey of his boxers. Your hands moving too slow for him, he reached down to pull off his pants until he could shimmy them off the rest of the way.

“You’re so impatient,” you teased, tickling your fingertips up and down the length of his cock, stiff and hard as a rock beneath the fabric of his underwear. His breath hitched and his hands clinged to your thighs, squeezing them tight as he tried to control himself.

“Woman, you’re evil,” he hissed under his breath.

You laughed and shook your head as you jerked the waistband of his underwear to reveal his cock—long, hard, and already beginning to stand up on its own. “Mm, wow… Big boy.”

He scoffed, halfheartedly glaring at you through hooded eyes. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t at least a little flattered, though. “Ya think so?”

“Know so. Nice and big and hard…”

Your hand wrapped tight around his shaft, pinning it to his abdomen as you sat yourself on the base of his cock. “Fuckin’… F-fuck, (Y/N),” he groaned. “Ain’t ya gonna put it inside ya for Christ’s sake?”

You pouted exaggeratingly, wiggling your hips to center his cock between your folds. “Not yet,” you said.

Leaning yourself backwards on your hands as they held his thighs, you slowly slid your slit up his shaft towards his tip, causing him to jolt at the feeling, that terrible trembling that surged through his cock as you slid backwards once again.

“You like that?” you asked.

“Shit, I… Fuckin’… God… Shit.”

“Mm, I’ll take that as a yes.”

“F-fuck yeah,” he clarified, watching as with each pass you spread a layer of sheen over his aching cock. “It’s fuckin’ amazing.”

You continued sliding his cock between your folds, moving your body back and forth rapidly, until his groans became so intense you were sure he’d come prematurely, so you slowed to an excruciating pace until you stopped, sitting still on the base of the cock.

He let out a strangled moan under his breath, almost high-pitched enough to be a whimper. “Woman…” he groaned, his voice drenched in a quivering ache. “I need ya.”

He tugged on your thighs with both hands, forcefully dragging you up and down his shaft once again, until you tore his hands from you, throwing them loosely above his head till they dangled over the arm of the sofa. “Hey,” you said. “You’re gonna come if you do that.”

“I—I wanna… Wanna come.”

He looked almost pitiful, panting out his words through trembling lips as his eyes hungrily trailed over your body, that body he had visualized in his head so many cold nights in those dense woods as he searched for his lost friend—searched for some kind of meaning to his life. When he settled back in Alexandria a year ago, he still couldn’t shake those thoughts from his mind. In fact, the yearning had only gotten worse. Now that you were here, finally really there and not just some blurry figment of his imagination, he couldn’t wait much longer.

“You’ll come,” you said, wrapping your hand around his shaft to lead it to your entrance. “I’ll make you come.”

“Ah, shit!” he blurted out as his tip entered your shallow end just for a brief moment. In a conscious act of near torture, you had pulled him out again.

Redness blotted his face and neck as he strained himself. His cheeks puffed up with air, each breath labored and heavy. You watched in amusement as the prominent vein in his neck swelled and clenched under his sweat-speckled skin.

When he calmed down for a moment, you let yourself sink down a little further onto his cock, heaving your own deep sigh of pleasure as you did so.

You felt a powerful jolt send you bouncing upwards, and his cock snaking deeper inside you. His hips bucked up in quick succession, causing you to grip his shoulders in order to restore your balance.

“Ah, fuck!” he cried out hoarsely. “Shit, I’m… I’m gonna…”

You pulled him out swiftly, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from the pit of his chest. “(Y/N)…” he whimpered, rolling his head back and forth in the best kind of agony. Still, it was agony.

You knew what you were doing, of course. You were drawing him so close to the edge, then pulling him back before he could reach it. All he wanted was to feel you clenching around him, your body bouncing on his as you enveloped him in the warmth and sweet friction of your twitching walls. He’d feel that eventually, but for now, you wanted to play with him a little.

He had gotten so close to release, though, that now he was rabid, practically foaming at the mouth and driven wild by lust and the pleasure he was being denied. It was exactly how you wanted him: desperate, almost primal in the way he needed you to release him. Not anyone else, not himself, you.

As you sat on his cock once more, taking the entirety of its length inside of you, you felt his cock begin to twitch, signalling it was close to its point of relief. The deepness and the angle at which he penetrated was intoxicatingly good, and if you weren’t so focused on him, you might’ve taken the opportunity to let yourself have another orgasm, but you didn’t think he’d last much longer, not long enough for you to do that.

Instead, you rode him hard again, arching your back and pinning his arms against the arm of the couch, hair cascading wildly around your face and bottom clenching hard with each thrust.

Your own moans started to harmonize with his until the two of you created some kind of erotic symphony of strangled grunts and breathy whimpers. As his eyes clenched shut and his neck strained again until all his muscles showed through the red-tinted skin, you pulled him out once more, letting his cock spring up to meet his belly button.

“Fuckin’ shit!” he groaned. ��Fuck me, woman!”

Words fell on deaf ears as you watched him squirm. If he really wanted to, he could’ve escaped the grip you had on his arms, but who was he to do such a thing? After all, he was the virgin, and you were guiding him.

As your eyes locked onto his, you nearly gasped to see two glimmering pools of water forming in his eyes. Is he crying?

“Please, (Y/N),” he practically whined under his breath. “I need you… I need you. Please.”

One small, jagged tear ran down his cheek, but your lips caught it before reaching his jawline. Kissing over to his lips, you jutted your tongue into his mouth to get another feel of his wily tongue.

“I love it when you beg me,” you whispered against his lips. “You’re such a good boy.”

If he had any willpower left in his body, he would’ve sassed you for the slightly degrading compliment, but he could hardly speak any word other than “please.”

So you sat yourself back down on the base of his cock, once again spreading your lips to envelope his shaft as you slid up and down, this time with the intention of letting him finish.

When he pulled on your hips, tugging you faster along his shaft, you didn’t stop him, letting him use you to get himself off now. “Ah… yeah… shit…”

It didn’t take long at all for a small spurt of white liquid to emerge from his swollen red tip, with a series of bigger spurts following in quick succession and pooling on his stomach. His chest heaved and his face melted in pure bliss with each twitch of his cock that sent shocks through his core. He’d never felt an orgasm like that, not one from such contact with someone else, and surely not from contact with you, the only woman he could imagine as he touched himself at night. No, this was different.

“Holy… shit,” he panted. “That was… so fuckin’ good.”

“Mm,” you hummed, wrapping your fingers around his softening cock and tucking it back in where it belonged. He twitched at the feeling of his still sensitive tip grazing the deepest part of you, but it felt too good to pull away, too warm and soft inside you. “We should’ve done that a long time ago.”

Eyes still closed as he processed his bliss, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead as you tucked your face into his neck. The couch was much too small for both of you in this position, but the closeness was worth the sacrifice of comfortability.

“We shoulda,” he agreed, then let out a deep sigh. “Jesus, woman, you like to torture me, don’t ya?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the last seven years, huh? Torturing you is kind of my thing.”

His hand tangled in your hair until a strand formed a curl around his finger. He never thought he could be so entranced by just a piece of hair. That was how much you affected him—even the tiniest, most insignificant part of you was enough to distract him.

“Yeah, well,” he said, “please tell me I wasn’t the worst you ever had.”

You scoffed and nuzzled your nose into his neck, kissing his collarbone. “You were the best,” you said. His scoff of disbelief caused your eyes to flutter to meet his in pure genuineness. “Really. You’re the best.”

“Nah,” he said. “I sucked, you can say it.”

Well, he really hoped you wouldn’t, actually. His pride was at an all-time high, despite his self-deprecation. It was a hard habit to break, but the confidence he felt now was already another addiction he’d have to grapple with.

“Daryl, I love you.” Your words were so matter-of-fact, so blatant and direct, that he needed to blink away his disbelief before letting your dead serious face come back into focus. “Sex isn’t anything without love… I don’t care that you’re a virg—Well, were a virgin. I love you, and that fact alone made it the best sex I’ve ever had. Plus, you’re really not that bad.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Mhm… Just a little sloppy, but we’ll work on that. Practice makes perfect.” You tugged on his chin to guide his lips back to yours, kissing them sweetly for just a short moment. Even the littlest, most innocent peck was enchanting to him.

“I love you,” he said, eyes turning hazy as the heaviness of his lids began to blur your visage. “Shoulda said it a long time ago… Shoulda done a lot of things a long time ago.”

You tilted your head and smiled. “You’re saying it now… That’s all that really matters.”

A comfortable silence settled in after a while, the steady beating of Daryl’s heart lulling you into a shallow sleep until his deep, syrupy voice gently roused you.

“Hey,” he said, softly shaking your shoulder.

“Mhm?”

His nose nuzzled into your hair, where he left a small kiss, or maybe two, he was too sleepy to count, and quite hungry, as well.

“Got any peach pie?”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist Part 2

✏ Taglist

Comment, message, or send an ask if you’d like to be on my taglist.

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #twd smut

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beyondkion-blog · 18 days

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Resident Evil Characters - A Summary

Note: This is entirely my own opinion and said with a heavy dose of humor

Please enjoy

Chris Redfield

Started as a twunk

Became an angry gorilla man???

Alpha Male™️

Punches boulders

Wants you to marry his sister

Smoker

Hide yo kids, hide yo wife

Rude to wait staff

2/10 - Just a guy. Hit him with your car

Jill Valentine

Other OG

Arguably better main of RE1

Master of Unlocking

Bisexual Bob™️

Butch

Supercop

Once got mind-controlled into going blonde

Rocket Launcher babe

PTSD

Big Strap Energy

Giant anime gun

10/10

Albert Wesker

OG Baddy

Sunglasses

Thinks he’s cool

A little too into Chris

“What are we going to do this game, Albert?”

“What we do every game, Alex: try to take over the world”

Matrix jacket

Maybe a vampire?

Looks like my uncle (derogatory)

4/10

Barry Burton

Bear

A+ line delivery

Just happy to be a part of things

Wishes his daughter would talk to him

Comes through in a pinch

Got lost on his way to The Last of Us

Father figure

Not dead out of sheer dumb luck

8/10

Rebecca Chambers

Baby butch

Sees the best in everyone

Autism be damned, my girl can work a shotgun

Sporty

Mommy Domme/Babygirl switch vibes

Sweet coffee addict

Doing fine, thanks for asking

Awkward thumbs up

9/10

Billy Coen

Bad Boy™️

Never bothered to take off his handcuffs

Tattoos

Mullet???

Moral standards

Strong silent type

Whole situation could’ve been avoided by just talking about his issues but no

Queen fan

7/10

Leon S. Kennedy

If a golden retriever became a human and then got kicked every day of its life

Having a really bad first day

Into dominant women

Dumb 90s haircut

Uses comedy as a coping mechanism

Hair grows in direct correlation to his level of angst

“Hey demons, it’s me, ya boi”

Sexy

Dog lover

Certified Good Boy™️

Fucked up a perfectly good rookie is what you did. Look at it, it’s got depression

15/10

Claire Redfield

College student stuck in the zombie apocalypse

Soft butch

Humanitarian

Forced her brother to teach her how to knife fight

Really into motorcycles

Leather jacket

Rocket Launcher babe #2

Always has at least one adopted child with her

10/10 would ask to babysit

Ada Wong

Mommy. Sorry. Mommy- sorry. Mommy-

Grappling hook

Badass spy

Emotionally distant

Soft spot for cute cuddly things (Leon)

Femme fatale

Book lover

Chaotic neutral

Crossbow 😍

Could step on me and I’d say thank you

Rocket launcher babe #3

10/10

Sherry Birkin

Goosebumps protagonist

Worst parents ever tbh

Surprisingly good under pressure

Please someone get this girl some therapy

Supergirl

Smartest person here

One hell of a shot

The trauma is immeasurable

Somehow still doing fine

Loves her weird adopted family

8/10

Carlos Oliviera

Himbo

First POC main?

Went from three polygons and a white boy haircut in the original to actual gorgeous South American hunk in the remake

Lost his accent along the way for some reason

#1 Jill simp

If Dug from Up was a guy

Only trustworthy person in the whole series

Just wants to help

Gorgeous gorgeous hair

Loves strong women

Hakuna matata

Touch-starved

10/10 would peg

Steve Burnside

Twink

Who is this sassy lost child?

Hot Topic employee

Into Claire (she’s too old for you bud)

Choker

Thinks he’s edgy

Whiny

Daddy issues

1/10

Luis Serra Navaro

If Puss in Boots was a human

The Most Extra™️

Luscious flowing locks

Definitely into bondage

Used to work for Umbrella

Trying to make up for it

Don Quixote references

Bisexual

Good with his hands

Praying for a threesome with Leon and Ada

10/10

Ashley Graham

Basic white girl

Always getting kidnapped

Master of Unlocking #2

Razor flip phone

Ada Wong bisexual awakening (same)

Good with a wrecking ball

Makes Leon catch her every time she has to jump a ledge (also same)

Would like to go to Hot Topic, please

7/10

Sheva Alomar

Player 2

Second POC main

Bad AI

Too good for her game

Willing to go on a suicide mission with a guy she just met

Left handed

Deserves a better stylist

Only good part of RE5

Literally my girl got done so dirty just give her another chance please

10/5

Moira Burton

“It’s not a phase, dad!”

Probably gay

Weak arms

Skillz

Box dyed her hair at least once

Simple Plan playing in the background

Childhood trauma

7/10

Piers Nivans

Trying his best

Appreciates a good steak

Sick of Chris’ bullshit

Good with a rifle

Just a good man

German Shepherd boy

Self-sacrificing

8/10

Jake Muller

Wesker’s son

Daddy issues

Who invited Ronan Lynch here?

Quips for days

Bad boy

Loves the type of woman who can kick his ass

The Most Edgy™️

9/10

Ethan Winters

Husband of the year

Trusting

Surprisingly chill

The most basic white man in all of RE

Hands? What hands?

Functionally a lizard

Would still love you if you were a worm

Just casually knows how to craft bullets

Moldy

8/10

Mia Winters

Toxic girlfriend energy

Literally possessed

Dark sense of humor

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss

Casually working for a bioterrorism organization

Does actually care about her family

Definitely doesn’t have a penicillin allergy

If you can’t be the girl of his dreams, you can at least be the feral swamp witch of his nightmares

2/10

Zoe Baker

Lesbian

Mold intolerance

Southern accent thicker than grandma’s gravy

Picked last on the playground

Somehow okay despite her brother being Like That

Joe’s favorite

Science skills

8/10

Lucas Baker

Jigsaw

Didn’t even need the mold

Probably got at least one true crime documentary made about him

Working for Mia’s bioterrorism organization

Left his classmate rotting in the attic

Just the worst

0/10

Alcina Dimetrescu

Mommy

Please step on me

Elizabeth Bathory vibes

Just fucking huge

Can turn into a dragon

Lesbian

9/10

Karl Heisenberg

Grimy

Tumblr Sexyman

When robotics majors get weird

Fights with his siblings

Doesn’t actually care at all about Miranda

In cahoots with the lycans

7/10

Rosemary Winters

Mommy and Daddy issues

YA protagonist

Badass

Childhood trauma

Into the Mold-verse

Alternate universe Sherry Birkin

8/10

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ghostboneswrites2 · 3 months

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The Fuck Are You Doing on His Bike? || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

This was a request on my old blog: "After Dwight and Sherry steal Daryl's bike, it's up to reader to get it back for him."

Summary: Reader and Daryl get separated from Sasha and Abraham when they lead the heard away from Alexandria, then Reader and Daryl get separated from each other. When Reader sees a couple riding away on Daryl's bike, she risks her life to get the bike and his crossbow back, reuniting with him later.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, violence, injuries

The triumphant feeling of successfully leading hundreds of walkers away from Alexandria was quickly washed away when gunfire rained down on the four of you, you and Daryl on his bike, and Sasha and Abraham trailing behind you in a car. The crash was unavoidable, and between the unknown strangers shooting at you and the few walkers here and there, you all got separated. The only solace you found was in the radio you still had, and your pistol.

You didn't know where Daryl went, or if he even realized you had fallen off the back of his bike when he took an extra sharp turn. It wasn't his fault. You'd still be there if you didn't loosen your grip from around his waist to shoot back. You were simply a victim of poor timing, as was usually the case in a world plagued by death and destruction.

You were limping through the trees, following alongside the road, hoping to see any form of life from your friends. "Daryl?" You radioed. You huffed in frustration realizing it was you who had the radio, how could he hear you? "Sasha? Abraham?" Silence. What could you do? You guessed all that was left to do was search for your friends and keep going.

"Fuck!" You groaned. You slid across the asphalt when you fell off his bike, tearing your clothes to shreds along with the flesh underneath. In short, you had a serious case of road rash and you'd kill for some Neosporin and a bandage. The dry air on your raw flesh was unbearable.

Nonetheless, you pushed forward. There was no time to feel bad for yourself, you had a mission. Find Daryl and the others and get home alive.

Hours had gone by since you'd seen anyone. You were beginning to lose hope, between the radio silence and the recent attack. That was, until you heard the familiar hum of a loud engine guzzling gas in the distance. You smiled and stopped walking. You were near a small store, so you crossed the street from the trees you used as cover and crouched down behind an abandoned vehicle in front of the little building, just in case it wasn't who you needed it to be.

The motorcycle came into view only moments after you positioned yourself, and to you dismay it was a skinny blonde dude and a chick with dark hair, not Daryl. It was, however, for sure Daryl's bike. The couple slowed down and propped the bike on its kickstand, and the two of them stepped off. Some kind of argument took place, the girl pointing back to where the came from and the guy throwing his hands around with frustration. You couldn't hear them well, so you couldn't know this, but she was scolding Dwight for robbing Daryl after he helped them, and Dwight was defending himself, citing survival as a valid reason for his betrayal.

You checked your mag to ensure you had plenty of bullets before you stood straight, aiming right for the man.

"The fuck are you doing on his bike?" You shouted to them from where you stood behind the broken down car. They both snapped their faces toward you, Dwight holding the crossbow up at you. "I asked you a fucking question, asshole!"

"Well, I don't feel like talking much!" He called back.

"Well I'm definitely in the mood for some shooting, and from where I stand I see two strangers riding my friend's bike. And you, sir, are aiming my friend's weapon at me." You shot back.

"We just found this stuff!" He lied. You scoffed, running your tongue over your teeth, begging for a reason to shoot. You thought, maybe I'll shoot the guy, and question the girl at gunpoint. Then, maybe if she cooperates, I'll let her live.

"Well it's not yours so how about you leave it there and walk away, nobody gets hurt!" You suggested.

"Not gonna happen." He shook his head.

"Have it your way." You shrugged, opening fire on the both of them. They ducked down behind the bike with haste, Dwight firing an arrow at you and missing completely. "You telling me you robbed by friend of a weapon you can't even fucking use?!" You spat, peeking from one side of the car, searching for the right moment to show these motherfuckers that you meant business.

"Why don't you stand up and let me prove myself?" He called back.

"You first, shitbag!"

"Real classy." He retorted.

"This ain't classy world. Give me my fucking bike!"

"Thought you said it was your friend's!"

"That makes it mine, too." You clarified, standing quickly when you saw him peek over the bike and firing a shot. He must have had the same plan because he, too, fired a bolt. You fell back to the ground, a shaky hand raising up to your shoulder where the arrow protruded.

"Alright," you called back. "You're getting better at this."

"Not good enough, or you wouldn't be talking right now."

You ignored his remark, resorting to laying flat on the ground and watching him from the underside of the car. You fired a single shot, and it must have hit, because there was a loud groan following suit.

"Guess we're even!" You yelled.

"Even doesn't get you far anymore." He said back. You could hear the painful strain in his voice and wondered if he heard your agonized tremble when he first shot you with the bow.

"No, no it doesn't. But you could still give me our shit back and tell me where my friend is and walk away from this alive. Alive is all that counts, man."

"Can't do that."

"Then I guess one of us just has to die!" You winced as you fired another shot, the kickback of the handgun reminding you of your shoulder being impaled.

"Fuck!" He shouted as a bullet ricocheted, grazing him deep.

"Walk away, man!"

"No!" He shouted, unsuccessfully firing another arrow.

"Ya know, the man you stole that bow from always told me rage didn't make for a good shot!" You taunted, checking your mag again. Two bullets left. You'd have to make them count.

You went over what you knew in your head. This guy isn't a good shot, and he stole Daryl's shit. Which meant if you ran, he probably would miss you, and if you did have to kill him, he brought it on himself. You hadn't really decided what to do with the woman he had with him, but you reasoned to cross that line when you got there. For now, you only had one plan in the heat of the moment, and it was to run out and shoot him.

You took a deep breath and snapped the arrowhead off the bolt sticking out of your shoulder. You bit down on your tongue to stifle the cry as you pulled the other half out of your shoulder from the back, and sighed a shaky breath once you got it out, throwing it to the side. When the blindness of pain faded, you readied yourself and made a break for it, running from behind the car as fast as you could. You didn't stop until you heard the whistle of the bolt behind you.

Knowing he'd need time to reload, you made your move, shuffling over to the bike and holding the gun to his temple. Defeat washed over his demeanor as he let the bow fall on his lap and raised his hands slowly.

"Check mate." You said, coking your head to the side a little.

"Yeah." He scoffed, shaking his head.

"Where the fuck is he?"

"Daryl?" The woman asked from beside him, earing a glare from her counterpart. Fear and panic were written all over her face.

"Yup. The one and only."

"He's alive. Just a mile or so in the direction we came from. We didn't hurt him." She assured you.

"Well, that's great to hear! Unfortunately, though, now I have to figure out what the fuck to do with you two ass-hats."

"Let us go. Let us walk away, alive, just like you said." She pleaded.

"See I really would have loved to do that, but me and your boy here already agreed that one of us is gonna have to die." You regretted to inform her.

"Me. Kill me." He sighed. "It was all me."

"No! He was just scared. He didn't wanna hurt anyone. That's why he didn't hurt Daryl. Those people we were running from, they're bad people. We just had to get away." She begged.

You looked between the two of them, putting yourself in their shoes. If what they say is true, then you could sympathize. Still, who would you be to let him shoot an arrow through your shoulder and walk away? You guessed you shot him back, twice if you counted the ricochet, so maybe it was even. Then again, he did say even didn't get you anywhere anymore.

"Daryl -- Your friend. He offered to let us come back with him to your community. But he panicked and took his stuff instead. That's all that happened. I swear. He's alive." She continued to try and persuade you for mercy.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you." You said to Dwight. "One reason why letting you live would not be a threat to my own wellbeing."

"Because we just want to live. Me and my wife. We'll go, no questions asked, no following you, no nothing. We just wanted to save her sister and she died anyways, so, it's just us. We don't want trouble."

"Well, you seem to make trouble. A lot of it." You sighed.

"You," you looked to Sherry as you slowly picked up Daryl's crossbow and slung it over your shoulder while the barrel of your gun never left Dwight's temple. "Stand up slowly, and walk into the woods."

"No." Dwight growled. You pressed the cold metal to his head harder.

"If you want her to live, she does as I say." You growled.

"It's okay." Sherry said. "I'll go."

With that, she stood up slowly, and took careful steps toward the trees.

"You don't stop until you hear the engine start, you hear me?" You instructed her. She nodded and kept walking.

"Now, you." You said to Dwight, kneeling down so you were at his eye level. He glared at you. "You're gonna stand up, and drop any weapons you might have hidden down on the ground."

Reluctantly he did as you said, dropping his only knife and his empty gun to the ground.

"There's more in the duffel." He confessed, nudging the army green bag with his foot.

"Okay." You said, aim still trained on his forehead. "Now, you're gonna walk the other way, into the trees behind that gas station over there. That way you two can't plan any funny business."

"That's my wife, man, please." He breathed.

"Listen. You keep going until I start the engine. Then you can come back here and get your weapons. By then, I'll be riding into the fucking sunset. My only concern is my friend." You explained. He obliged with little more argument, and when you couldn't see either of them anymore, you picked up the duffel, threw his empty pistol into it, and left his knife on the ground. When you got the bike started, you revved the engine to let them know you were holding up your end of the deal, and you sped away.

It was only about twenty minutes later that you saw a stocky figure storming along the side of the road. You recognized the vest from a distance and sped up. You already had his attention when he heard his bike, and he was relieved to see that it was you. You pulled up beside him with a little smirk.

"Care for a ride, pretty lady?" You teased.

"Move over." Was all he said, clearly still sore that the couple had gotten one over on him. You swung your leg over the side and stood up. That was when he noticed the blood all over your shoulder and all the road rash under your ripped clothes. You shrugged.

"Wasn't easy getting your shit back." Was all you said. He gently examined your shoulder.

"They shot at you?" He asked, showing concern.

"He was a shit shot, but yeah. Got me with one of your bolts." You confessed.

"Hope you killed his sorry ass." He grumbled.

"Not.. exactly." You said.

"Shoulda." Was all he said, before placing a short sweet kiss on your lips, and another on your forehead. "C'mon," he said as he swung his leg over the bike and turned it back on. "Let's find Sasha and Abraham and get the hell outta here."

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

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nateofgreat · 1 month

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Rebel Omega (and friends) Headcanons

AU where all the vault kids grow up to become Rebels and form their own cell. We'll call them the Tantiss Cell, deliberately named such because it causes the Empire (who never figured out who destroyed Mt. Tantiss) to freak out, assuming they're an elite special forces squadron.

In reality it's Omega, Jax, Eva, Sami, and Bayrn. Also Gonky and Batcher.

-Omega's squadron leader and tries to handle it the way Hunter used to, the only problem is that she can be a little too chaotic sometimes. The squad has to pull her back from some of her more daring operation ideas. Naturally she's also the designated pilot and tracker. She finally gets to use her energy crossbow to fight, but she also brought one of Hunter's knives along.

-Bayrn (since we saw him move things with the Force) found himself a Jedi mentor in the form of an Order 66 survivor. One who agreed to settle on Pabu and train him in Jedi ways. He's the cells strongest fighter as a result. He wields a dual-bladed lightsaber (blue in color). He's one of the more level-headed members of the squadron thanks to his Jedi training.

-Sami's the team doctor and a real mother hen sometimes. She constantly fusses over everyone in the squadron and encourages them to be cautious, while she can be overbearing everyone appreciates her care and concern for them. She tries to stay out of the fighting but carries a blaster pistol just in case.

-Jax is the heavy weapon's expert, the guy they call on to take down Imperial vehicles and fortified positions. He learned all about how to do it from Wrecker on Pabu. He carries an old Clone Wars era minigun and wears heavy armor. He isn't as wild as Wrecker but he and Omega totally match each other in wanting to pull the most daring missions. He's fiercely protective of the whole group. Also helps Omega with taking care of the ship.

-Eva's the team sniper and also Omega's copilot. She adores Batcher and loves to explore the Galaxy, always finding a way to look on the bright side. After all, they escaped Mt. Tantiss as children, so they can totally take down the Empire together. Crosshair donated his rifle to her since he can't use it anymore.

-Their handler is Emerie Karr whose grown to be an officer in the Rebellion. She was picked because she's one of the few people who can handle Omega's antics.

They frighten the Empire with their reputation of being the ones to destroy Mt. Tantiss, using it to draw all their forces to protecting their most vital infrastructure when they hear the Tantiss Cell is in town, so that they can hit some other target instead. The best part is that the Empire think they're doing a great job stopping them.

Of course they visit Pabu regularly, coming back with all sorts of war stories for their families to hear. Lyana's the only one who didn't join the Rebellion but they all drop by her house to talk whenever they're in town while she calmly listens like this all completely normal.

#Star Wars #tbb #tbb spoilers #The Bad Batch #tbb finale #tbb Omega #Bad Batch Omega #tbb Sami #tbb Jax #tbb Bayrn #tbb Eva #Emerie Karr #tbb headcanons #The Bad Batch headcanon #tbb imagine #tbb batcher #tbb Lyana

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tossawary · 22 days

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Ended up thinking about "Dragon Age" again, specifically mostly DA2 and time travel fics. I think Hawke is the second-easiest DA protagonist for an author to throw backwards in time or into another dimension (the first is the Inquisitor, whose game has canonical time travel), because Hawke potentially getting abandoned in the Fade in DAI is an excuse for anything to happen.

More importantly, I think Hawke is the FUNNIEST protagonist to throw back in time for a redo, because they're not put in charge of Solving The Apocalypse for the majority of their game. The Warden and the Inquisitor are dealing with kingdoms, with the Blight and the Breach, whereas Hawke is "just" dealing with a city state and spends most of their initial time there fucking around trying to support their family. But WHAT a city. Hawke would have to go back and deal with fucking Kirkwall again in all its early, awful glory, a real powder keg waiting to blow.

The amount of time spent in Kirkwall and its incredibly violent game missions isolated to this one location across nearly a decade gives it so much character that, to me, it's perhaps the most entertaining DA location to explore as a place where ordinary people actually live (though, admittedly, many places in Thedas are fucking terrible), and Hawke's tragic relationship with that place as its hero is fascinating to think about. Hawke would have a lot to feel sad about, coming back to this strange place, with both good things and bad things undone, but I find it amusing to imagine that Hawke also actually missed this terrible place and its peculiar version of normal.

Here's a 400 word ficlet of how I imagine Hawke's reunion with Kirkwall going. I don't intend to write a full fic, it's just a scene that came to me with surprising clarity while out on a walk, despite how long it's been since I played a DA game.

KIRKWALL (AGAIN)

Garrett looked over the dark streets of Kirkwall and had to wipe a tear away from his eye. "This place is a shit hole," he said, in the same tone of awe others used for incomparable beauty.

In front of them, a drunken sailor holding a bottle of whiskey and singing a terrible rendition of the already terrible song "What Do You Do With A Tranquil Blood Mage?" wobbled into a vegetable cart. This caused several turnips to bounce across the cobblestones. The cursing grocer picked one of them up, yelled, "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE WALKING, YOU DOG-FUCKING BLIGHTER," and threw it at the drunken sailor, whose head was saved by the fact that he lurched over to throw up in an alleyway, and the vegetable smashed into the side of a house instead.

Inside the house, there was a crash, and then the shutters of an upper window flew open, revealing a naked man holding a crossbow. He yelled, "I'LL HAVE YOUR BALLS FOR A NECKLACE, YOU POINTY-EARED COCKSUCKERS," despite the fact that no one nearby was an elf, and then fired at the street below him. His crossbow bolt lodged into a wooden message board, which was mostly covered in old, vandalized paper posters for the Blooming Rose and other like-minded establishments, and the quivering "crossbow bolt" was revealed to be a rusty fork tied to a butter knife with strong, covered in sparkly white and blue powder that glowed slightly. It matched the other mismatched cutlery already embedded in the wood there.

The naked man with the crossbow slammed his shutters closed again. The people on the streets had ducked or raised a shield, but now easily went back to their business, apparently unsurprised and unworried. An old woman crouched down to the ground and stuffed the thrown turnip into the basket over her arm, then hastily walked away with her free loot.

"I missed this city so much," Garrett said, and even he was a little horrified that he meant it so sincerely. There was no need for Carver to look at him like that.

#tossawary dragon age #fic ideas #hawke #spoilers #hawke time travel au

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wannabespacesmuggler · 6 months

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D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Three | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks

Word Count: 1.5K

Author’s Note: It has once again been a hot second. I love this idea so much and want to continue it. I'm really glad that all of you seem to enjoy this little fic as well. Did anyone else watch the new Daryl Dixon show? I liked it a lot more than Dead City; however, the final episode felt super lackluster, especially with all of the build-up. Maybe that's just me. Anyway, let me know what you guys think of this one, if you want to be added to the taglist, or just want to ask me a question.

Extras: Playlist

“Like this?”

Your voice pulls Daryl out of his quiet concentration. He’d been so busy at work, sharpening the tip of the crossbow bolt in his hands, that he’d almost forgotten that you were sitting with him. Daryl’s gotten used to being alone. Hell, most of the time, being alone is better than the alternative -- being in the company of Merle Dixon. However, you are certainly nothing like Merle Dixon.

Daryl coughs awkwardly -- trying to ground himself back in reality. It was early evening when you wandered into the Dixons’ makeshift camp. You’d finished all of your chores relatively early for the day and desperately wanted to do something instead of sitting down by the lake and gossiping with Andrea and Amy. You had attempted to find Shane, in the hope that maybe the two of you could take watch together. Since the world fell apart, you haven’t really had any time to actually talk with Shane. You can’t blame him though, his concern for Carl and Lori is admirable. And you know that if the situation were reversed, Rick would do the same and would make it his life’s mission to look out for you. You just wish your boyfriend could extend some of that comfort to you.

That’s how you find yourself across the fire from Daryl, sharpening the crossbow bolt you made together. Daryl’s eyes shift from your face to your hands, to assess your progress. His eyes widen slightly once he notices how you’re holding the knife in your hands. You stop moving once notice the change in Daryl’s features.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Daryl watches as you physically shut down-- as if you’re preparing for him to be angry over a simple crossbow bolt. His jaw clenches at your reaction. He is angry, but not at you. No, he’s angry because he understands. He resists the urge to ask you who it was that has managed to make you feel so small and, instead, moves to the other side of the fire so that he can sit beside you.

“Nah, you didn’t do anything wrong. Just hold the knife like this, ‘lright?”

Daryl physically shows you how to hold the knife away from your body while you’re sharpening the bolt. Your eyes follow his movements for several moments before replicating them. Daryl watches you intently, nodding whenever you look over for his approval.

“Yeah, jus’ like that.”

A small smile plays at the corners of your lips at the sudden softness in Daryl’s voice. You distract yourself by watching Daryl’s careful work with the crossbow bolt in front of him. It’s obvious how much the craft means to him -- it’s quite mesmerizing to watch.

“You’re really good at this. Did your dad teach you?”

Daryl stops for just a split second and draws in a breath. He rolls his shoulders back, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that come to mind at the mention of his father. His first instinct is to lash out and shut down -- and he probably would if it were anyone else; however, you have been nothing but kind to Daryl since he and Merle arrived at the makeshift camp. The idea of chastising you for your harmless curiosity makes his stomach turn.

Daryl clears his throat and finally releases the breath he was holding. He resumes carefully sharpening the bolt in his hands.

“I taught myself.”

You nod at his explanation, trying to ignore his change in demeanor. Just as sudden as the softness in Daryl’s features came, it is replaced by his usual indifference. It’s as if for just a split second you were able to see through the brick wall that Daryl has erected around himself. He lets his defenses down just long enough for you to see that there is warmth behind the cold front.

“Well, it’s really impressive. I don’t know anyone else who can use a crossbow or make their own arrows.”

Daryl nods and attempts to keep a straight face, fighting off a small smile.

“It’s really not that hard. My daddy had a load of hunting gear in our garage and with Merle always getting locked up, I had a lot of time to practice.”

You resist the urge to ask him more about his past. Based on his previous reaction, you can tell that it’s not a topic he’s comfortable with. Before you can change the subject, a rustling in the surrounding woods grabs both of your attention. You freeze in place, expecting the worst; however, Daryl springs into action. He grabs his crossbow and places his body in front of yours -- in this position, he’s managed to shield you from the source of the noise.

Daryl readies his aim and you brace yourself for a potential fight; however, before he can release the trigger, you grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Instead of a walker, Shane and Lori emerge from the woods. The smile on Shane’s face fades into a deep scowl as he takes in the scene before him.

“What the hell is going on here?”

His words are laced with venom as his eyes narrow at Daryl, who still hasn’t lowered the crossbow. You give Daryl’s arm a gentle squeeze, silently pleading with him to not escalate the situation. He shakes off your touch but lowers the crossbow. You move in front of Daryl, hoping to diffuse the situation.

“Relax Shane, Daryl was just showing me how to make some arrows.”

Shane ignores you completely. His eyes don’t even leave Daryl as you speak.

“I told you to stay the fuck away from her.”

His voice raises and Daryl notices how you shrink away from Shane as he takes an aggressive step forward. His eyes narrow at Shane, who continues to dismiss you. Now he knows who made you feel so small. A surge of anger rises within Daryl, along with the need to protect you -- which is quickly becoming a common feeling for him nowadays. Daryl mimics Shane’s actions, taking a step forward and sizing up the man in front of him.

You watch the scene play out before you and before either of them can throw the first blow, you place yourself in between the two seething men.

“I approached him. I couldn’t find you so I asked him for help, okay? Where did you go?”

Shane finally turns his attention away from Daryl and focuses on you. He places his hands on his hips as he looks down at you. Daryl’s brow furrows at the sight -- this isn’t the posture of a loving boyfriend. No, right now Shane looks like a parent scolding a child. He lets you take control of the situation; however, he anxiously observes your interaction with Shane, ready to jump in if Shane’s anger gets the better of him.

“I was helping Lori look for Carl.”

Anger is still evident in his voice, but he seems to have settled down to a simmering rage. Daryl raises a brow at his explanation. He doesn’t say anything, but he finds it very unlikely that there would be anything less than a full search party if any of the children in camp actually went missing. Daryl shifts his gaze to Lori who is still standing on the edge of the woods. Her face is flushed, her hair is disheveled, and her clothing seems to be thrown on haphazardly. It seemed like she and Shane had gotten into some trouble out there, but neither of them have any blood on them. They both, however, are covered in dirt -- hell, Shane looks like he just rolled around the forest floor.

Oh. Oh.

Daryl looks at you, hoping you just came to the same conclusion. You know Shane is lying. In your search to find him earlier today, you noticed that Carol was watching Carl and Sophia play down by the lake. And as much as you want to call out his deception, you also don’t want to start yet another fight.

You let out a sigh and give Shane a solemn nod. Lori uses this moment to excuse herself from the conversation -- muttering something about finishing the laundry. Shane shoots Daryl a final glare before grabbing your shoulder and pulling you away from the archer. Daryl watches you both walk away. Eventually, Shane releases his hold, leans his head down, and whispers something in your ear. You nod at whatever he says before casting your eyes toward the ground. Shane, on the other hand, stands up a bit taller at your reaction and walks off confidently.

Daryl clenches his fists as you look in his direction. Embarrassment washes over your features once you notice that he is still watching you. Daryl frowns as you drop your head and walk off in the direction of your tent. You shouldn’t be embarrassed -- Shane should. He may have promised Shane that he’d stay away from you, but Daryl decides, at this moment, that he doesn’t give a damn. Nobody gets to treat you like that.

Taglist: @darylsl0ver@minervadashwood@hotgirlsshareaccounts@taterbbbug@dreamtofus@youcantstandit @ajlovesdilfs @prettywhenibleed @luvsvnlqt-things @evie-beanie @strnqer@marina-isabella@lissanovak@elissanatok@1tsk1tty@moejoeflow@ceoofdisappointment@jewellthebooknerd @callsignwidow @genderless-ghosty-boi

#twd #The Walking Dead #walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #Rick Grimes #shane walsh #merle dixon #glenn rhee #lori grimes #the walking dead imagine #walking dead imagine #Norman Reedus #norman reedus imagine #norman reedus x reader

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