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celtic-crossbow · 8 months

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Uh-Oh, There Was a Monster in My Bed

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Anytime, really

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, hand job, edging, blindfold, choking

Summary: Sometimes, he was your good boy.

A/N: Help! I’ve fallen for subby Daryl and I can’t get up. I’ll check this for errors later. Also, I think I finally managed a drabble!!

©celtic-crossbow 2023. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or placed on any other platform without my consent.

“It’s okay, you can handle a little more, can’t you?” Your praise was met with a guttural moan, the muscles under your fingertips spasming before you lifted your hand from his thigh. Your palm traveled up the planes of his stomach and chest before slender fingers squeezed his throat. His hips bucked, cock twitching in your grasp. “You’re such a good boy for me.” Each stroke was torturously slow, leaving him almost whimpering and ready to beg for more friction.

You released his neck and let your fingers crawl up to the blindfold, caressing the part of the cloth that lay over his temple. The idea had initially made him anxious, but Daryl trusted you. You established a safe word, but to his credit, he had not used it. And you had been torturing him for over an hour.

Your index finger was in his mouth now, pressing on his tongue while you delighted in the sounds he offered at each stroke of your hand. Rising from your knees, you released his tongue and perched your naked cunt on his thigh, grinding against his jeans to seek some relief for yourself. You had only removed his shirt and opened his pants, a decision you were now regretting. Not much you could do with him tied to the chair, though.

“Y/N.” He groaned, his head falling back, each breath a sharp pant. You answered with a hum, closing your lips around his nipple. “I… I need…”

“Not yet.”

He bucked again with a whine. Dragging your thumb over his tip to collect the liquid there, you licked your lips when your next strokes sounded wet and sinful. You yourself had nearly had enough and released him, lifting off his thigh. His head dropped forward and angled to the side, listening to your movements.

You threw a leg over him, sinking onto his length without warning, your velvet heat causing him to twitch. “Don’t you dare.” You warned, giving him no time before both hands roughly grabbed his hair and wrenched back his head. He somehow managed to refrain, breathing harshly through his nose. The pace you set was brutal, bouncing up and down with abandon to chase your own high.

“Y/N…Y/N, please…” He begged through clenched teeth. He was barely hanging on.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Your fingers twisted in his mane, earning a high-pitched keening noise.

“I need…Let me cum.”

You offered another hum, swallowing his moan with a rough kiss. “My good boy needs to cum?” One hand fell to his shoulder to help you balance, your thighs beginning to burn.

“Fuck. Yes, please.”

“I love it when you beg.” Your words whispered against the skin just below his ear, your teeth finding his pulse to nibble on the flesh there. You felt the fire building in the pit of your own stomach, your walls fluttering around him as the familiar tingle began to race out through your veins. “Alright, Daryl. You can cum.” You almost didn’t make it to the last word, your orgrasm crashing over you. Your pace slowed but didn’t cease, coaxing him to the precipice so you could force your eyes open to watch him fall apart. He writhed in the chair, mouth hanging open while his muscles twitched and flexed. Warmth flooded within you, the contractions of your cunt milking the most delicious sounds from him while his seed filled you.

“That’s my good boy.” You rocked atop him gently, drawing out both of your highs until you were oversensitive. Once you had stilled, you smiled and kissed him delicately, pulling the blindfold away. “Such a good boy.”

Outside, he was a badass archer, afraid of nothing.

Inside the walls of your home, he would always be your good boy.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #mdni #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon is a good boy #daryl dixon the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon drabbles #Spotify

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dixonsgirl93 · 8 months

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Daryl Dixon finding out you’re pregnant with his child and what he’d be like as a dad:

(I gotta be honest, I don’t normally like pregnancy/child tropes. They just don’t interest me in fiction HOWEVER this thought came to me. How would our sweet, traumatised boy react to having a family of his own??)

He’d be in shock, not believing you could really be carrying his baby, that he was gonna be a dad

He’d say he needs space/time to think about what this really means and he’ll disappear on “runs”. You wouldn’t hear from him for at least a couple weeks

He’d be terrified at first. Because of the idea of bringing a child into a broken world, because he fears he’d be a terrible father

He’d have to come to terms with not being able to run off and do his own thing. He’d have responsibilities now

He already knew he was never going to leave the pair of you. It was never in his mind to abandon you

He’d work even harder to protect you both, putting himself on the line more but secretly he’d enjoy it in a way, because he had something that was his and he’d give his life 1000 times over to protect what belonged to him

He’d teach them how to hunt from an early age, to fight, how to use his crossbow, the right berries and mushrooms to eat, how to fish and anything else Daryl knew, he’d pass it all on

What you wouldn’t know, was that when the child was much older, Daryl would teach them how to protect you both, should something happen to Daryl. He’d teach them to not let the grief consume them

While you were pregnant he’d kiss your belly loads, lovingly patting it and feeling the kicks. And when he first felt a kick he’d get teary eyed and it would be the first time he felt like a dad

He’d talk to his child while in your belly, telling them stories of the old world and of how badass he thinks their mom is

He’d be the first to bring you comforts, pillows, blankets, enough food so you could both stay strong

He wouldn’t be home too much, wanting better to be hunting for you, making a nursery for you but when he was home he focused his attention on you and the baby

He would be more anxious, wanting to provide for and protect you constantly but not being able to do both all the time

He would think of the family he lost and compare you and his child to himself, Merle and their dad, desperately wanting his child to have a better life than he did

When the baby was born, he’d spend a lot of time just holding and looking at them, memorising their features, looking for you and himself in them

He’d gently run his fingers over their soft skin. He couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could hurt a child, imagining his own scars and childhood

During childbirth he’d be at your side the whole time, encouraging you to be strong, giving you praises, clutching your hand and not caring that your nails were digging into his skin from the pain

When the child was older and told him that they were proud to have him as their dad, he’d sob, not caring who saw because it was something he’d been worried about for years. He was so certain he would fail any child in his care

If the child was a girl, he’d teach her not to take shit from men, he’d tell her about the certain tricks men use. He’d teach her to be strong and independent

If the child was a boy, he’d teach him how to be respectful to women, he’d teach him how to be a leader, how to protect people, how to be unbreakable but that emotional vulnerability was not weakness, but strength

He’d be a stern dad, soft sometimes but the child would quickly grow to be respectful, learn to communicate their feelings and feel safe and loved. Something Daryl never got

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norman-fucking-reedus · 1 month

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More GirlDaddy Daryl cause the love I have for him is actually not funny

I thought of a name a longgg time ago for his daughter that I think is super cute, It was gonna be Darylina but then I thought how Daryl would hate that THEN I thought how DARYL would make CAROL the grandma so obviously Carolina is the perfect name

She’d be called Lina for short, Carol as a joke and Carolina when shes in buttfuck trouble (which teenege Lina gets into a lot of but shes her mothers child)

I feel like she’d be a total badass, a good balance between Daryl badass and Y/n badass. She’s a hardcore daddys girl so by age ten she was already mastering the Dixon way of hunting.

“Ya got light steps naturally, let’s keep em tha’ way kiddo”

“Okay daddy!”

Lina would be more like Daryl as a kid, and I feel like Daryl was a rowdy kid.

She practically bounces off the walls from the assigned hours of too early in the morning to too late in the evening. Getting jumped on before he gets out of bed wasn’t exactly on Daryl’s bucket list (but he wouldn’t have it any other way)

Yes, she constantly climbs onto her father like a cat. No, there’s nothing he can do to get her squealing giggling frame off him. His only option is to accept his fate and play 21 questions directly over his shoulder.

“Lina! M’working, get offa me”

“Wha’cha workin’ on?”

“Stuff”

“Wha kinda stuff?”

“Adult stuff”

“Wha kinda adult stuff?”

Daryl uses her whenever he works on his bike, and his massive fingers can’t fit to reach something. She feels very important when her tiny fingers reach it, and she lets Daryl know how very useless he is.

“Daddy yer not gonna be able to fight if ya can’t fit yer fingers in stuff”

“Really? Damn. Good thing yer gonna protect me”

“No daddy, yer have to protect yerself because m’gon go protect mommy”

“Tha’s good idea, mommy can’t protect herself”

“But mommy can fit her fingers in stuff”

“Then why ya protectin’ her ‘nd not me?”

“Because I like mommy”

“I like mommy more”

Oh maybe I should mention they bicker over EVERYTHING. And guess who has to be the tiebreaker?

“Babe! Tell this rat tha peanut butter is indefinitely better than tha jelly!”

“Daryl she doesn’t even know either of those are and everyone knows jelly over butter”

“See mommy is always right!”

“Are ya cheatin’ one me??”

There’s a very strong love-hate relationship between him and teenage Lina, especially when hormones start to change and tempers flare.

Once again, Lina is a mini Daryl and Y/n, so when she shoots back during arguments, she’s aiming for the head.

“For tha last time, no. Too dangerous and m’not gon be able ta keep an eye on ya. End of discussion, quit pushin it”

“M’not a fucking kid anymore. I didn’t want ya keepin’ a damn eye on me in tha first place?!”

“Gettin real ballsy there little girl, I said wha’ I said”

“Ballsy? Little? Clearly I got more balls than ya since yer too fuckin’ scared to take me”

“Carolina. Wherever this is comin’ from, cut it the fuck out.”

“I’m gonna cut you the fuck out.”

“Scuse me?“

“Good luck on the battlefield when ya can’t even fuckin’ hear”

After every hard slam of her door, Daryl is left to stand in the deafening silence feeling like an utter failure.

Obviously, he gives her the time to decompress before going to apologize, this time with his crossbow in hand.

The door creaks slightly open before all the way, however there’s no little girl that comes running out into his arms. She stands tall in front of him, mirroring his expression of anxious discomfort.

“Ya stay close, no matter what. Understand?”

“Okay”

Daryl hands her the crossbow.

“Look- I know yer not a kid, but yer still my kid. Yer gon always be m’little girl an yer growin’ up scares tha livin’ shit out of me”

“Ya’ve killed people.. isn’t tha’ scary?”

“Wha’s scary tha’ if I didn’t kill ‘em they might’ve killed ya”

Lina hugs him tearfully.

“M’sorry fer arguin’ with ya”

“Nah, m’sorry fer not givin’ ya a chance”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

(Daryl’s inner child definitely gets healed each time after apologizing and talking it out. He breathes so much better and just feels so much better AUGH my baby)

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #norman fucking reedus #daryl x reader #daryl x female reader #twd #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl imagines #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic

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dixons-sunshine · 2 months

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Scooby Snacks with your Whiskey | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: One night when you couldn't sleep, you decided to join Daryl in the guard tower and keep him company. During a game of truth or drink, Daryl unknowingly insulted your favourite childhood cartoon, which resulted in playful arguments, accidentally shattered whiskey bottles and confessions.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Prison, post season 3, pre season 4

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, sexual innuendos but nothing major.

Word count: 3.7k

A/n: This is based off of what Daryl told Beth in s4 episode 12 right before they set the cabin on fire. He was talking about a cartoon about a talking dog, and my mind instantly went to Scooby Doo, and so this fic was born. It's not really good, since I'm still trying to get into the writing momentum, but I hope you enjoy!

Also, my requests are open for any TWD requests if y'all wanna send any!

—

"Hey. Would you mind some company?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl turned around. He hummed and nodded for you to come closer, to which you complied. You stood beside him in silence, quietly observing the walkers at the fences. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl was stealing glances at you, his hands fidgeting with his crossbow string.

His heart fluttered at the sight of you, a regular thing that happened whenever he was in your general area. You looked up at him with that smile that always made butterflies fly around in his stomach and your eyes always seemed to sparkle brighter than the stars in the night sky, and although Daryl liked the quiet away from everyone, you were one of his only exceptions.

Daryl loved hearing you talk. He loved listening to you talk about your life before and although he wouldn't admit it, he was always captivated by the bedtime stories you told little Judith. The way you changed your voice to match the emotion of the part you were telling, even though Judith didn't understand anyway and would react the same regardless, was enchanting to him. He would listen to you talk for hours if he could.

And above all, he loved your caring yet badass nature. The way you would take down walkers with a skilled ease, and then in the same breath turn to him and check him for any injuries with a concerned look on your face made him feel drawn to you. You actually cared about him, in a way nobody ever had. Daryl didn't believe that anything was perfect, but you were the closest thing to perfect there was.

It also didn't help that you were absolutely breathtaking to him. From the beautiful colour of your eyes to your perfectly plump lips that he's wanted to kiss on more occasions than one. Daryl couldn't define how he felt about you because he never felt this way about anyone before, but he knew his feelings for you ran deeper than what could be described as platonic. And that fact scared him.

A soft sigh from you snapped Daryl from his thoughts. He looked over at you and noticed that you seemed to be deep in thought, a small frown on your face as you kept your eyes trailed on the ground below.

"Penny for yer thoughts?" Daryl prompted, instantly gaining your attention. Your eyes trailed over to him and his heart skipped a beat at the smile you gave him.

"Just thinking," you responded nonchalantly, shaking your head in dismissal. You pushed away from the railing you were leaning over and turned your body fully to look at Daryl.

Daryl hummed softly, his eyes trailing over you before shifting back to look at the fences. "Ya wanna talk 'bout it?" He questioned.

"It's stupid."

"Ain't stupid if it's botherin' ya," he retorted, turning his body to fully face you as well.

You sighed before shaking your head. "It's just... I'm thinking about my mom. The last thing we did before all of this was fight over something stupid and now..." You trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward under the archer's stare.

"Ya think she didn't make it?" He finished for you, giving you a knowing look.

"I know she didn't make it. She was diagnosed with cancer about two weeks before all of this started, and there aren't exactly doctors around who could've helped her," you responded, awkwardly fidgeting with your fingers.

"'M sorry to hear tha'. This world jus' ain't meant for people with sicknesses like tha'," Daryl said, and mentally kicked himself for saying that. There you were, confiding in him over something serious and that's the best he could come up with? He felt like a perfect fool.

However, instead of being angry at him, you looked at him with a small smile, much to his surprise. "Yeah," you started. "I just hope that she didn't suffer. She was a good woman."

"Were ya close?" Daryl asked, his blue eyes meeting your beautiful ones. He hoped that he wasn't prying, but he wanted to know more about you, the woman who haunted his thoughts 24/7.

You nodded. "We were."

"Ya make a lot of good memories with her?"

You laughed lightly, surprising the archer. "What is this, 20 questions?"

Daryl frowned. "What?"

"20 questions," you repeated, noting that your repetition didn't spark recognition in the archer's eyes. "It's a game you play with your friends at parties, sleepovers, you name it. You all take turns asking each other any questions you want."

"Never heard of it," Daryl said, shrugging his shoulders. He felt awkward under your intense stare, your eyes widened with surprise.

You softly gasped in surprise. Then, an idea struck you. "Wait here."

"It's my shift," he stated matter-of-factly. "Ain't goin' nowhere until dawn."

"Perfect."

With one last look at Daryl, you climbed down from the guard tower, excitedly rushing into the cellblock and into your cell. You bent down in front of your bed and retrieved what you were looking for; a bottle of whiskey you found on a run. With a renewed excitement, you gripped the bottle tightly and headed back up to the guard tower, finding Daryl waiting patiently.

Daryl glanced at the bottle in your hand and looked at you questioningly. "Where'd ya find tha'?" He asked, watching you approach with a slight smile on his face. He could practically see your excitement, the big smile on your face infectious.

"On a run a couple of weeks ago. I've been waiting for the right moment to open it, and the right moment has now presented itself," you said, sitting cross-legged on the floor and motioning for Daryl to do the same.

"How so?" He questioned, following your lead by sitting down on the ground in front of you. He kept his eyes trailed on you, watching your every move.

"Well, I was gonna suggest we play 20 questions, but I don't wanna force you into answering a question you don't want to, so we're gonna play truth or drink instead. We ask questions back and forth, and if we don't wanna answer the question that was asked, we drink. It's as simple as that."

"And I dun' got any say in if I wanna play or not?" Daryl asked, a small, teasing smile on his face. His smile turned into something more genuine when you let out a light laugh.

"Nope!" You laughed, opening the bottle and placing it in between the two of you. "You wanna start?"

Daryl hesitated, pursing his lips. "I dun' know wha' to ask."

"Anything. There are no wrong questions," you reassured him, leaning back on the palm of your hands.

"Alrigh'," he drawled, unsure of himself. "Wha' was yer favourite movie before all of this?"

"There you go," you praised him with a smile, making Daryl duck his head as heat flushed his face. "To be honest, I don't really know. I watched a lot of movies, so I don't think I can narrow it down to one. But I have a couple of favourites. The Breakfast Club and Back to the Future are two of them."

Daryl nodded, absentmindedly chewing on his thumbnail. "Now 's yer turn, righ'?" He questioned.

"Yeah," you confirmed. After a couple of beats of silence, you voiced your question. "Who was your first kiss?"

Daryl shifted awkwardly, embarrassment filling his body. "I honestly dun' remember her name. It was some girl in a dive bar Merle used to drag me to. She was drunk and I was helpin' her to her car when she turned around and kissed me."

"How old were you?" You asked, genuinely interested. Daryl rarely talked about his past, so when he did, you ingrained every piece of what he said into your mind.

"Nah, 's my turn to ask the questions. Wait yer turn," he joked, eliciting a laugh from you.

"Touché, Dixon, touché. Ask away."

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip, a habit you noticed he unknowingly did whenever he was thinking. You found it absolutely endearing, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you found most things about the archer endearing. The way he fiddled with his bolts whenever he was bored, the way he flicked his hair out of his face with the shake of his head, his small smile—you could go on a rant about his smile, and you have before. Michonne happened to be the victim who was forced to listen to your lovesick rambling in the car on your way back from the same run you'd gotten the whiskey from.

Begrudgingly snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you patiently waited for Daryl to continue the game. Feeling your stare on him, he asked the first thing that popped to mind, and instantly wished he didn't.

"Who was yer first sex partner?"

A nervous laugh bubbled out of you, heat creeping up your cheeks at a rapid pace. Daryl felt his own face flush, feeling stupid for asking the question.

"Sorry. Ya dun' have to answer tha'," he apologised, his eyes darting to the floor.

"No, it's okay. Like I said, no wrong questions. Besides, if I don't answer, I have to drink," you said, trying to compose yourself. You took a deep breath. Of all the things you thought you'd be doing tonight, you didn't think you'd be discussing who your first intimate partner was with the guy you had feelings for. "My highschool boyfriend, senior year."

Daryl nodded and left it at that. He leaned back on his hands, watching you carefully. He was surprised that you'd actually answered the question, given the personal privacy boundaries he pushed. He silently promised himself that whatever personal question you asked him, he would answer.

"What's the most petty fight you've ever gotten into because of Merle?" you questioned, looking at him expectantly.

Daryl stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking hard about his answer. "It was with this one guy. He was Merle's dealer. He was a small, janky white guy. We were over at his house one day, jus' loungin' around and watchin' TV, some stupid kids show playin'. It was barely noon, we were all wasted and Merle was high. Merle decided to take a piss outta the show, and when he started, he wouldn't let up. He never could when he was high."

Daryl stopped for a moment, collecting his thoughts while your gaze remained fixated on him. You seemed genuinely interested in the story, your eyes sparkling with wonder. Your lips were slightly parted and it took everything in Daryl not to act on his urge to kiss your pretty lips.

"It turns out, the cartoon was the guy's favourite show, and he got hella pissed 'bout it. 'M pretty sure Merle didn't know it was the guy's favourite show. I mean, he never saw the guy except when he needed somethin', but tha' didn't matter. The guy punched Merle in the face, and tha's when I got into the fight. 'M on this guy and 'm punchin' him as hard as I can, but then the guy pulls a gun on me, sticks it righ' against my head and threatens to shoot me."

"Oh, god," you murmured, slightly horrified.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, seemingly unfazed at your reaction. "Tha's when Merle pulls out his gun and points it at the guy. At this point, everyone's yellin', I'm yellin'... I thought I was gonna die tha' day."

"How'd you get out of it?" You asked, bringing your knees up to rest your head on them.

"I didn't. The guy ended up punchin' me in the gut and I puked on the floor. They both started laughin' at me and everythin' was magically over," Daryl said, shaking his head at the memory. "And to think that happened over some dumbass cartoon about a talkin' dog."

You visibly stiffened, and this caught Daryl's attention. "Wha'? Wha's wrong?"

"Talking dog..." You trailed off, your eyebrows furrowing. "Did the dog happen to be a Great Dane? And his owner was this guy in a green shirt and brown pants with messy hair?"

Daryl pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. There were other people, too. Two women and a guy with an ascot."

"Scooby Doo," you stated plainly, giving the archer a playful glare.

"Wha'?" He asked, confusion evident on his face.

"Scooby Doo," you repeated, waving your hand nonchalantly. "That's the cartoon you were talking about. The cartoon you called dumb."

"Yeah, 's 'cus it was. Can't believe anybody actually liked tha' crap."

"Daryl Dixon, how dare you?" You laughed, your eyes widened in surprise. "Scooby Doo is a national treasure! He was part of my childhood and now you're insulting him? I don't think we can be friends anymore."

Daryl chuckled at you, rolling his eyes at your theatrics. "From wha' I saw, the dog and his owner were cowards. Runnin' away, screamin', from fake ghosts after how many years of encounterin' them and knowin' tha' ghosts aren't real but they still think they are? It's stupid as shit, and I ain't apologising for thinkin' tha'."

"You're a disgrace!" You laughed, trying to sound angry but miserably failing. "You're telling me that, real or not, if a ghost was chasing you that you wouldn't run away?"

"Tha's righ'," he nodded, before gesturing to the walkers down at the fence. "I dun' run away from tha' shit, so I sure as hell wouldn't be runnin' away from fake ass ghosts."

"I can't believe you," you said, shaking your head in mock disappointment. "This is the worst betrayal ever. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget this. We won't be able to go back to being friends because of this. This is terrible."

"Stop," he laughed quietly, his eyes twinkling with a rare occurrence of merriment. "It ain't tha' deep. I jus' dun' like it."

"Clearly you don't like it because you have bad taste," you retorted playfully.

"Well, I like ya, so do I still have bad taste?"

Silence. It was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Any trace of the former reverie between the two of you disappeared and was instead replaced with an invisible current of electricity between you. Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden revelation from the man, and your heart sped up in your chest. The logical part of your brain told you that he meant it platonically, that he liked you the way he liked Rick or Glenn, but the optimistic part convinced you that he didn't, that your feelings weren't one-sided. That the archer might like you too.

"Probably," you finally responded, feeling your face ablaze with the heat that spread across it.

"Nah, my taste is immaculate," he replied, looking at you carefully, closely monitoring your reactions. Daryl knew that was a risky response, and he was nervous about your reaction, but he hoped for the best.

You gulped nervously. Daryl's response made your stomach do somersaults and your heart pound at the speed of light.

"Yeah? I still think your taste is shit," you finally managed to respond, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. Sometimes you wondered if Daryl knew what effect he had on you. If he knew how many nights dreams of him plagued your mind.

Daryl's chuckle broke the tension between you, and you felt like you could breathe again.

"Whatever ya say." Daryl took the bottle from the middle and took the first swig since the game started. Your eyes drifted to the trickle of whiskey that spilt from the bottle and trickled down his lips and chin, and you had the sudden urge to lean forward and kiss the spill away.

"You don't like Scooby Doo. That automatically means that you have shitty taste," you retorted, your breathing slightly heavier than before.

You leaned forward to take the bottle from him, but he held it out of your reach. You looked at him in confusion but he simply smirked at you, getting up from his position on the ground to stand tall over you.

"Daryl," you warned, laughing as you got up as well. "It's my whiskey. Give it back."

"Nah, I think Imma hold on to it," he said playfully, holding the bottle above his head. He laughed at you when you jumped to try and grab it from his hands.

"Daryl!" You exclaimed with a laugh, trying everything to retrieve the bottle, but to no avail. "Come on, don't be so mean!"

"Ya said I had terrible taste. Well, I like this whiskey, so tha' means it must be terrible as well, since I like it, so ya probably won't like it," he responded playfully, his eyes alight with mischief.

One final jump to grab it proved to be the wrong move. You accidentally slipped when your feet hit the ground, sending you falling onto Daryl. The archer reacted swiftly, dropping the bottle to to catch you with both hands. The bottle shattered on the ground instantly while you and Daryl toppled onto the floor, the force from your fall catching him off guard. Daryl layed flat on his back with you on top of him, his hands still on your waist from when he tried to steady you before you fell.

You looked into Daryl's ocean coloured eyes and felt your heart speed up. Daryl's eyes darted to your lips for a second before going back to your eyes, but you had caught him. In a sudden burst of confidence, you lowered your face and crashed your lips onto his, catching him off guard for the second time that night.

Daryl stiffened for a moment, surprised at the unexpected action from you, but soon relaxed and slowly kissed you back. He brought one of his hands to the back of your head and drew you closer, his lips slowly moving against yours. His other hand hesitantly trailed from your waist to the small of your back, gently moving over the exposed skin from the ride up of your shirt.

The kiss ended too prematurely for your taste, but oxygen was still a necessity. You slowly pulled back, looking into his eyes with surprise and delight. Daryl looked back at you in adoration.

"Wha' was tha' fer?" He whispered breathlessly, his chest heaving slightly.

"Just because," you replied honestly, still baffled at the fact that you had just kissed Daryl, surprised that you had mustered up the courage to do so in a matter of seconds.

"Well, if ya think tha's gonna prove to me tha' my taste is shit, then yer gonna need to try somethin' different. Tha' didn't work. If anythin', it jus' proved to me tha' my taste is amazin'."

You laughed and shook your head. "You talking about me or Scooby Doo?"

Daryl started sitting up, making you slide down his stomach to sit in his lap. "Definitely ya," he responded, wrapping his arms around you.

"So, you like like me, huh, Dixon?" You teased, linking your arms around his neck.

Daryl hummed and gave you a small smirk. "Mhm," he hummed, giving you a soft peck on the lips. "Wish I'd known tha' talkin' shit 'bout some cartoon dog would make this happen. Woulda done it a lot sooner."

"Don't you ever talk shit about that dog in my presence ever again," you warned with a playful glare, eliciting a chuckle from the archer.

"Jus' to be sure, this means somethin', righ'?" He asked, his tone turning serious. A look of doubt spread across his face. "This wasn't jus' a heat of the moment thing for ya?"

You shook your head, bringing one of your hands to cup his cheek. "Did you mean it? That you like me? And I don't mean in a platonic way."

"I did," he confirmed, leaning into your touch.

"That's good," you said with a small, shy smile. "Because I like you too. Even if you have crappy taste."

Daryl's eyes filled with relief and he let out a small laugh before leaning in to kiss you again. The kiss was brief, but it was sweet and tender. When he pulled away, he brought a hand up to push your hair out of your face.

"Never thought this would happen. I thought ya dun' like me like tha'."

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "No more of that. I don't plan on letting you go now that I have you, Daryl Dixon. You're stuck with me."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, 'm stuck." With that, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in a feverish kiss. He flipped you over so that you were on your back, making you giggle against his lips.

You were definitely thankful for Scooby Doo and that whiskey bottle right now.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead #twd

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hellfireswhore · 1 year

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Insecurities Daryl Dixon would love would be…

Scars

He has scars and he hated them for the longest time until he met you. You told him it’s apart of him and shows how strong he is. When he finds you have scars of his own, he reassures you that he loves that part of you no matter how you got em. He treats your scars how you treated his, lovingly.

Stretch Marks

He thinks they are badass! He loves tracing over them when you cuddle, he says it reminds him of a maze so he’s literally playing a lil game on your thighs, stomach, arms, etc.

Cheek fat

He thinks they are adorable. His favorite thing about them is how noticeable it is when you blush so he tries to fluster you up to see how red they get. He also likes to squish em slightly when he kisses you :)

Body hair

It’s hard to care for hygiene during the apocalypse so body hair definitely grew on him. He doesn’t care if you shave at all. Legs, armpits, bathing suit area, anywhere you grow hair, doesn’t affect him at all.

Big noses

BIG NOSES ARE THE BEST (I love big noses) he definitely loves to kiss your nose to reassure you everything is okay and that you’re safe.

Thick thighs

He definitely puts his hand on one of your thighs so people know you guys are together and to not fuck with you (or him). He loves how soft they are against his grip

A/N: I literally love Daryl so much I can’t get enough of him :,) lemme know if y’all want a Rick one!

#the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x gn reader #twd daryl #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader comfort #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x reader fluff #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead x you

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kitkatscabinet · 1 year

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Day drinking and its consequences

Prompt: You're drunk and they're carrying you to your room, when you unexpectedly say how much you love them, causing them to drop you on the floor

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: drunk cringey behaviour based on my own experiences. Written at 2am and unedited

Alcohol was a rare commodity these days, or rather, being able to safely drink it was. Out on the road, and even in the prison you had never felt safe enough to indulge in the few instances any such provisions had been found. Not at the welcoming parties in Alexandria or in the relative safety of your own assigned home. You were still an outsider, the wary and occasionally reverent looks thrown at your group not escaping anyone.

It takes a few weeks and having to deal with the walker bait Alexandriands on a run that almost ends in yours and Glenn’s premature death that you cave. The two of you hoarding the small stash of cheap shitty wine you’d found to yourselves. Wine drinker you were not, but desperate times and all that. Glenn and you had somehow ended up holed in Rick’s house, having meant to share your haul, only to both end up three sheets to the wind and giggling like idiots.

Wine tended to make you particularly amorous, which is how Carol finds you and Glenn locked in a human pretzel drunkenly slurring to each other how much you love the other. In between Glenn’s exclamations of how much he loves his wife, the most perfect woman in the world.

"She is isn't she? Super badass, pretty too." you drunkenly slurred whilst nodding your head before letting out a hum "Not as pretty as Daryl though." Even just saying his name puts a dopey smile on your face. However, Glenn didn't seem enthusiastic about your statement, jolting up in indignation and accidentally sending you sprawling off the couch.

""What? Maggie's ten timessss... No, a hundred times prettier than Daryl!" he rebutted.

"Nu-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nu-" you are interrupted from what was likely about to be a neverending back and forth, by Carol sitting you up from where you had still been laid on the floor.

"Drink" she commanded, pushing a glass of water into your hands, her tone leaving no room for argument. You did so, but with an exaggerated pout to let her know you weren't happy about it. The sound of the front door opening was your opportunity to dash away from Carol's tyranny as she focused on Glenn. Stumbling your way to welcome the newcomer you let out an excited gasp, throwing your arms out for a hug,

"Daryl! I missed you so much!" The poor man was too stunned to escape from your deceptively strong grip and was instead forced to bear the brunt of your weight as your legs suddenly decided to stop cooperating. The sound of a laugh from behind catches your attention, whipping your head around so quick you would have hit the floor if not for the strong arms that wrapped themselves around you.

"Carol look, it's Daryl!" you beamed, immensely excited at the arrival of your favourite person. You aren't sure why the woman starts to laugh at you, a look up at Daryl gives you no answer either. Not that you minded, as you were too busy staring at his pretty face.

"I can see that" Carol answered you in a voice that reminded you of how she spoke to the children, "why don't you get Daryl to take you home while I look after Glenn?"

"Ok!" you beamed with a sudden renewal of energy, scrambling to throw the door open and then drag the man out with you before he can protest. You last approximately ten steps before the burst of energy at seeing Daryl wears off and the sleepiness kicks in. "Daryl I'm tiiiired, carry meeee" you whined pathetically, using the last of your coordination to fling yourself towards his incredibly tense person. He catches you with an incredibly put-upon sigh but doesn't let you drop, shifting you and picking you up in a princess carry that has you letting out a small shriek of delight.

You live across the street from Rick, not even thirty metres, but for a drunk and lethargic you, it feels like an eternity. Daryl is warm, and his steps lull you further into dreamland as your face burrows into the crook of his neck. You quickly pull back when you feel his tense though, a brief moment of alertness entering your body as you apologise.

"What are ya sorry for woman?" It takes you a few seconds to respond, drunken brain trying to make sense of his words.

"know ya don't like to be touched. Sorry I'ma touchy." you murmur. He stumbles slightly in response, though you aren't sure if it's because of your words or from trying to open the door with your dead weight clinging to him.

"S'alright" he replies, swallowing harshly when you smile delightedly back up at him and move your head to rest against his neck once more.

Your eyes are closed as he walks steadily up the stairs, the creaking of the hinges you know to be from your door the only indication of where you are. An indication that Daryl is about to let you go and leave. Through the haze in your mind you vaguely register that the words you want to say shouldn't be said, that doesn't stop drunk brain though, and your lips are already moving.

"Hey Daryl. Love you" your eyes are closed during the confession so you don't notice his deer-in-headlights expression. What you do notice, however, is the sudden sensation of you falling. Your own eyes widened then as a scream that turns into a pained groan left your lungs. "Owwwww" you whine, looking up at the stock-still man with an accusatory pout, "what that fuck Daryl-uh."

"you love me?" his voice cracks slightly.

"Duh," you roll your eyes, before pushing yourself onto your knees and crawling into bed. Your shins are dangling of the edge, your left arm is trapped under your torso and your face is buried worryingly in the duvet but still, you swear it's the comfiest you've ever been. You would have happily slept like that if it weren't for Daryl repositioning you. He even goes so far as to tuck you in as you hand limply like a sack of bricks. Neither of you says anything, you are too tired, and his entire world has just been uprooted by your casual confession. You barely manage to mumble out a good night before you are pulled into one of the deepest slumbers of your life.

Daryl stands vigil for a few minutes, eyes tracing over the visible features of your face as his heart races and his face burns. You look innocent like this he thinks, peaceful. Unburdened by the past year of hardships and struggles to survive to see the next day.

He knows he would do anything for you, whether you loved him or not, because somewhere along the way he's fallen in love too. Though a large part of him wants you to forget this interaction, you're too good for him, deserve better. He can't help the small sliver of hope that burns in his chest, hope that you'll remember, and then he can say it too.

Taglist (join here): @walkingus

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

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