Y’all Gonna Make Me Feel Old.

Yours truly,

Seriously. All yours. Truly.

Like or reblog if you would send a love letter to Snape

Me posting on tumblr:

Me: yeah, I’ve weirdly always had a thing for guys with long hair. I don’t know why ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

My childhood:

Daryl, knees cracking as he stands: Fuck.

Y/N: Jesus. Are they gonna glow in the dark tonight?

Daryl: …

Thank, author, you for this 🥵

MORE FREEUSE JOEL PLEAKSE

Bail (Free use)

850 words / Joel x f!Reader / master

CW: unsafe P in V, consensual somnophilia, consensual objectification, very light manhandling. Sleep anon. I8 mdni

Joel gets a call from Tommy in the middle of the night. Again. He’s pissed but tries not to wake you up as he goes to bail Tommy out. When Joel gets back, he’s tense and wound up and knows he won't be able to sleep for a while.

But you. You're resting peacefully, head on your pillow. Fast asleep, not a care on your pretty face. You turn over and sigh in your slumber, and Joel twitches with the knowledge that this beautiful creature is his. All his. And your body is all he needs to calm down.

He carefully undresses. He doesn't feel like talking and prefers to let his intrusion wake you up. By the time he’s nude, he's at full mast, hand wrapped around his swollen shaft, in desperate need of release. He pulls down the comforter leaving just the sheet on top of you.

"Cold," you mumble and curl up in a ball.

“Shhhhh. I’m comin’, baby.”

Joel slides into the bed behind you and you stir in your sleep. "What happened?" You murmur.

"Shhhhhh. It's okay." He'd really rather you not talk. You settle again with a little sigh.

You're curled up on your side. He slides his hand down your side and lets out an exasperated sigh when he reaches your panties.

"Why to bed," he mutters to himself.

He grabs a handful your ass, can't help himself, and takes your panties down. He yanks the bottom side of them out from under you and tugs them down almost to your knees to make room for himself.

He presses his warm chest against your back, then he uncurls your body. He aligns your legs with his so he can feel your soft, smooth skin against his lightly hairy legs. He gets frustrated with the panties, tugs them down past your knees, then uses his foot to push them off altogether and fixes your legs again. He reaches around and presses on your mound to tilt your hips for access, then he dips his middle finger into your pussy to see how wet you are. He gathers saliva and spits into his fingertips. That'll do until your body obliges. He wets his cock, nestles the tip at your entrance, then wraps his arm over you.

He holds you so your back is firmly against him for leverage, then sinks his stiff member into your tight little hole as far as it'll go. You sigh and the sweet sound makes him swell even harder. His forearm and elbow dig into your torso as he pushes further and you moan as he bottoms out, filling you up completely. You're probably waking up now, but mercifully, you don't squirm or say anything.

Your warmth wrapped around him sends a rush through his body. On another night, he might stay just like that. Have you keep his cock warm all night. But he has too much pent up tension.

His first few thrusts are slow, letting your wetness gather around his cock. And when it's slick enough, he picks up the intensity, ramming all the way into you every second or so with a grunt. He gropes your tits as he pounds you with all his pent up frustration. The force of his hips moves you up toward the headboard until he takes his hand from your breast and curls it around your shoulder instead, pulling you down on his cock as he pistons into you faster and harder.

-

Fully awake now, you silently extend your own hand to brace yourself on the headboard. You tilt your hips to help his angle and he breathes, "fuck, perfect" as he pummels you with his full length. He slows down the rhythm but adds even more power, slamming into you over and over, to the hilt each time. The intensity is startling but welcome. He's obviously fucking away some frustrations so he can sleep. It's not the first time and it won't be the last. You don't mind waking up to the stretch of his girth when he fucks you this good.

He holds you tight, cupping a breast. He breathes heavily, vocally, grunting, "Mm" each time your bodies are flush, or "Ah." The head of his cock nudges the right spot inside you and you twitch, then contract around him.

"Shit," he whispers. He's not done pounding his frustration into you, and he knows he won't be far behind when you come.

You try not to make a noise but a soft sigh spills out as you're riding your high. He grabs desperately at your breasts and gnaws wetly at the nape of your neck as he plunges into you hard and deep. Then groans as he bottoms out and pulses heavily inside you, spilling his seed in huge bursts. He sighs and his arm loosens around you.

After a couple of minutes, the rhythm of his breathing slows. As his dick softens inside you, his cum begins to trickle out. You slowly, carefully start to reach for a tissue, not wanting to disturb him. But his arm tightens before you can move an inch. He would let you move if you said something, but instead you stay put and relax into him.

"I love you, baby," he whispers sleepily into your hair.

"Love you, too."

Within minutes, he's snoring.

-

Use the #free use!Joel☠️ tag for previous stories with this Joel. For free use OF Joel look at my objectification HCs.

As always, thank you so much for your engagement! 🖤 I always notice and appreciate every comment and reblog even if I don't comment.

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-

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk

Justified, pt. 2

The final piece of the Negan series.

Warnings - some language, implied smut, 18+ only.

It took me a long time to write this one - I kept going back and forth on who she was going to choose. I hope you all like the ending. As always, feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading along.

She hadn’t expected to see him here, in the Kingdom. But then, she did tell him not to go to Rick. She hadn’t known where he would end up, the Kingdom was as probable as any of the nearby settlements.

She didn’t know what they must have thought of her here, opening the gates to find her leading an army of their enemy, begging for help and shelter. It took a long time to convince them of her story. King Ezekiel finally conceded that while she might be telling the truth, they could not take in this many people. He did help them scout out a few buildings nearby, big enough to fit all the Saviors (ex-Saviors?) for a few days. He was gracious enough to provide them food for those few days too. The workers from the Sanctuary who had caught up with them later brought a big stash of food as well, so that took a little of the pressure off.

She’d wanted to ditch them all on their journey to the kingdom, and she thought seriously about doing it. She could easily just excuse herself to the woods to relieve herself and then just keep going. But convictions wouldn’t let her. She’d started this – she’d won their allegiance and their support enough to abandon their best chances at survival. She’d convinced them to turn against Negan and follow her. She was responsible for them now, no matter how much she did not want to be. The Kingdom was the only place she could think to take them, and she’d hoped she could pawn leadership of them off on Ezekiel, but he’d made it clear that would not happen.

Exiting his crown room – an old school theater – after a few long hours of arguing and planning with the helpful King, she paused to breathe. A heavy sigh escaped her as she pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated that she would have to continue in this position of leadership for the time being.

“Heard you were here,” a deep voice grunted behind her. Surprised, she whirled to find the source of the familiar voice and found herself face to face with Daryl. He was leaning against the wall beside the door she’d just come out of. He looked as gorgeous as she’d ever seen him, muscular arms bare in his cut off sleeves, his hair recently washed, and his wounds from the Sanctuary healed. She didn’t move, but took in every inch of him, checking him for injuries or signs of anything wrong. Satisfied that he was unharmed, she half jumped to clear the space between them, embracing him so hard he would have fallen over had he not already been supported by the wall. He wrapped his arms around her too, hesitantly at first, and then tighter until she could barely breathe. She didn’t care.

The hug seemed to last for minutes, and she only let go enough to move her face to his, instinctively leaning toward his mouth with hers. Before the kiss landed, guilt dropped on her like a ton of bricks, and she found herself pulling away to search his face instead.

“You’re okay?” she asked, brushing hair from his face to see him better.

He met her eyes for only a second before looking at the ground and he responded, “yeh, I’m a’ight.”

There was a tense pause, she had so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to explain, so much she knew would hurt him. She couldn’t find the words, and right now she didn’t have the time.

“I need to see Rick,” she told him, breaking the long silence. “Will you take me?”

“Yeh,” he responded with no hesitation, “I’ll get the bike ready and meet you at the gate in a few minutes.”

As she watched him walk away, her heart ached. She had given so much of herself to free him, and she would do it all again without question. But the stuff that came after… would he love her if he knew? Would she be able to let him? He deserved so much better.

She pushed the thoughts and the lump in her throat down as she walked to the gate to meet Daryl.

--------

Her hand touched the doorknob in front of her. She yanked it back, looking around her in confusion. She didn’t remember walking here. She had set out from the Grimes’ house for the infirmary to see if there were any tampons there - thanking whatever higher power had kindly prevented her from getting pregnant. She and Negan hadn’t exactly been careful about that. She must have gotten lost in thought, and now she was staring at the entrance to the basement where Negan was kept in a cell.

She’d been back in Alexandria for a few days and had effectively avoided getting within twenty yards of this door. She was confused and slightly irritated that she’d somehow ended up here without thinking. Shaking her head to clear it, she turned to resume her journey to the infirmary.

“I can see your shadow from the windows of the door,” she heard Negan call from inside. “I’m in a cage, you don’t have to be afraid to come in. I know you all want to spit in my face!”

She blew a deep breath out and opened the door. She knew nothing good could come of this, but something deep within her pushed her forward.

“Well, if it isn’t my lovely wife,” Negan cooed as she came into view. “I was wondering when my conjugal visits would begin.” He grinned that wicked Negan grin, and she forced herself not to return it – she’d grown to enjoy his dark sense of humor during their time together.

“I’m not your wife,” she replied curtly, “and definitely not here for that.”

“Well, your tune sure has changed,” Negan answered. “If you aren’t here to bang one out, why are you here?”

“Honestly,” she said hesitantly. She knew she shouldn’t continue, but that same thing that pushed her in here kept her talking, “I’m not sure. Maybe part of me wanted to taunt you, to see the fruits of all my labor.”

Negan looked her over for a long moment.

“Or,” he replied, his dark eyes surprisingly soft, “maybe part of you wanted to see if I was okay - if we were okay, after you put me in here. Maybe you’re lonely, and realizing you miss me a little. The reunion isn’t going quite how you hoped, is it?”

She studied his face. She found no trace of mocking, only a knowing look. Her days here had been harder than expected. Rick had welcomed her with a warm hug, and they’d been deliberating for days about what to do with the large group of Saviors now in need of a leader. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t quite trust her. In fact, there was a tension between her and everyone here. She seemed to find herself alone at mealtimes, the Grimes family having either just finished eating as she came in or eating at someone else’s home. They never invited her along. She offered help around the compound whenever she wasn’t in a meeting with Rick, but no one accepted it, claiming they had everything they needed. Maggie was the only one who didn’t seem to hate her. She’d wept when she saw Maggie, alive and well, and hugged her until Maggie complained she couldn’t breathe. They cried together for Glenn, and Maggie made her feel hopeful, like she was still one of them. But she had only seen her that one day, before Maggie returned to Hilltop. And Daryl… well, Daryl was a whole different heartache. They technically shared their previous bed, but he never joined her there at night. Most nights he was still out when she went to bed, and most mornings he was gone before she rose. There was a neat stack of blankets and a pillow on the couch downstairs that told her where he’d been sleeping.

Her face must have reflected these thoughts because when Negan spoke again, he was gentle.

“You don’t fit here as easily as you did before, right?” She met his eyes but didn’t respond.

“It’s because you don’t. You never did,” he continued, “it was a nice thought back then, right? A group of people who loved each other and made each other better? They even made you better… but those people didn’t love you. They loved what you could bring to the table. They loved what they could make you into, who they could change you to be and control you.”

“And I suppose you think you’re better for me, right?” her voice was quiet, but the anger building behind them was unmissable. “Am I supposed to believe you loved me?”

“I think you know the answer to that, y/n, or you wouldn’t be here,” he replied, less gentle now. “And I think you loved me, too. It felt good, right? To be seen for who you are, not who someone wants you to be? You didn’t have to work to be anyone but yourself. I have seen the real you, and the real you flourished with me. You know why? Because we are the same, you and me. We both know that.”

“No,” she said, louder this time, “we don’t. It was a mistake coming in here.” She turned to leave.

As she reached for the door Negan aimed his final shot, “you know once he knows you loved me it will be over. How could he love the girl who fell for the guy who killed his friends and put him through hell?” He hit his mark.

She forced her chin to remain high and her shoulders to refrain from slumping as she left and held that position until she reached her room in the Grimes’ home where she stayed until nightfall.

--------

That night didn’t bring much sleep. Negan’s words haunted her. He’d said she loved him. It echoed in her head louder than anything else. She didn’t love him, right? How could she, after all he’d done? But then, there was all she’d done, too… She’d seen a softer side to Negan, a glimmer of what he might have once been, before he embraced the monster in him.

When she did manage to drift off, her dreams were full of Negan, over and over she would find herself alone with him, in a lover’s embrace, and then suddenly he was a walker, biting her, taking her down with him. She would wake sweating and shaking.

She knew he was right…they were the same. She knew his monster because she had been fighting the same one in her since the world fell apart. Once Daryl knew the truth, he would never look at her the same. There was a good chance he would hate her. She wasn’t sure she didn’t hate herself.

After the third one of these dreams woke her, realizing the night would not bring rest, she sat up in bed rubbing her eyes.

“You a’ight?” She yelped and jumped at the sound of Daryl’s voice across the room. She turned on the bedside lamp to find him sitting in the armchair close to the door.

Her heart racing, she whispered, “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he half-whispered, matching her volume. “I came to check on ya when I got in, you were tossin’ and turnin’ and hollerin’ some.”

“Sorry,” she admitted, “bad dreams.”

“Yeh, I get those, too” he said as he rose and made towards the door.

“Daryl,” she said a little louder, longing in her voice. “Stay.” He paused with his hand on the knob.

“Please.”

He slowly turned and after removing his shoes climbed into bed and sat beside her. They didn’t touch, and she didn’t turn off the lights.

They sat in silence for what felt like an hour.

She finally worked up the nerve to speak. She needed to tell him, needed him to know who she’d become in Negan’s thrall, and needed to see his response. She knew it would be awful, but if she didn’t face this now, she would go insane in the tension.

“Daryl,” she started, but he cut her off.

“I don’t need to know, y/n.”

“What?”

“I don’t need to know what hapn’d in there. I know it was bad, it was bad for me, too. But I know ya did what ya did to save me, and then to survive. ‘sall I need to know about it.”

She didn’t know what to say. She grabbed his hand, expecting him to pull away, but he let her hold it. He closed his hand around hers in response and looked her in the eye.

“We all have summin’ dark in us,” he said, his eyes gleaming with memories of his own, “what makes us different from him is we fight it. ‘n we fight it together. I’ll help ya fight it if you’ll let me.”

Speechless, she reached up to cup his cheek with her free hand and stared into his eyes for a long moment. She hoped he could read in her eyes everything she wanted to say but couldn’t find the words.

When she leaned in to kiss him, he met her halfway. They shared a long, passionate kiss, until desire swept them both under its current and they found themselves naked, tangled up in one another, moving in rhythm until they were both spent. She felt new - refreshed somehow, even though she hadn’t slept.

She raised herself up on one arm to look at his face. He was gazing at her, lazily combing through her unbound hair with his fingers.

“Can we leave here?” she asked him, her face earnest.

He sat up at that.

“Leave this room?” he asked.

“Leave Alexandria. We can go to the Kingdom, or Hilltop with Maggie. We can still be part of this,” she said, waving her hand, “just not in Alexandria?”

He studied her face for a long moment before asking, “why? Wus wrong w’ Alexandria?”

“I think,” she said slowly, trying to find the right words, “our people may need to heal before they will let me in again. I don’t know if I can be the town pariah long-term.”

He waited for more. She sighed, knowing he knew her well enough to see right through that answer.

“I can’t be here while he’s here, Daryl,” she said, now pleading with her eyes. “He… Rick will never move him out of that cell. I have a lot of healing to do, a lot to work through. You and I have a lot of healing to do together. I don’t think we can do that when he’s two blocks away.”

Daryl didn’t answer immediately. After a long pause he said, not meeting her eyes, “Rick needs me here. ‘stoo much to plan. Too much to do. Can’t leave.”

Her heart shattered. She needed the chance to start fresh with him. Needed it to be somewhere far away from Negan and the impossible hold he had over her. She could tell from Daryl’s face there would be no changing his mind.

--------

Daryl awoke with a strange sense that something was… off. He tried to call to mind what could be causing the unease, but nothing came. Things with y/n had been better since their late-night talk three nights ago. He was glad for that, the tension upon their return to Alexandria had been eating him alive. He’d heard enough talk from the Saviors during his captivity to know what Negan required of his wives, and the night Dwight walked him back to his cell on a strange route would never stop ringing in his ears. Dwight stopped him outside of a room he hadn’t seen before, but quickly learned – as the savior posted outside the door relayed to Dwight that Negan was busy inside – it was Negan’s room. As they turned to leave, a familiar moan made its way to Dwight’s ears. His heart stopped and his breath caught as he recognized the pleasurable sounds of her – he’d know those noises anywhere. He’d certainly enticed them out of her enough. She had been behind that door, making them for Negan. Daryl’s fists instinctively clenched at the memory. Dwight had grinned wickedly at him as he locked him in his cell that night, not even playing that god-awful song he’d been torturing him with. He left Daryl in silence to replay what he’d heard over and over.

Daryl knew that hadn’t been the last time she’d been with Negan while she was in his Sanctuary. He’d had a lot of time to work through that and the emotions it brought with it before she got out. They all came flooding back the first time he saw her again, and the guilt she wore plain as day in her eyes didn’t help. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t be around her without wanting to tear Negan’s throat out with his bare hands. So, he’d distanced himself. Until he saw how much she was struggling.

Everyone in Alexandria seemed to avoid her like she smelled bad. He watched as it wore her down, and even from a distance saw the demons she was battling. He’d been there before. He still had to fight demons and the person he’d been before all this. Merle had brought out the worst in him since childhood, and before his death it had been a constant battle not to slip into his old self. Daryl began to understand her struggle and found that each time he saw her slumped shoulders and haunted eyes, his heart ached for her more and more.

He’d forgiven her and was happy to move on. She’d seemed grateful enough for that the night they reconnected. Though things were better between them, she still seemed haunted. She tossed and turned beside him most nights, and when she did sleep almost always woke up shortly after, sweating or silently crying.

Daryl knew why. She’d told him. She’d all but begged him to leave with her so she could get away from Negan – be free of him for good. It stung like a blow to the face to realize Negan still affected her like that, and he’d told her no to spite her for it. He’d been regretting that since.

He turned over in bed to reach for her, wanting to hold her and smell her hair, the clean, light rose scent always calmed him – but the bed was empty. That wasn’t unusual, she often gave up trying to sleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

Still feeling somewhat uneasy, Daryl decided to find her. Maybe he just needed to talk to her to get his balance back.

An hour later he returned to their room, hopeful they’d just missed each other, and she was back in the house. Not finding her in their room or the attached bathroom, he moved downstairs to see if she was in any of the shared living spaces.

Daryl was returning to the kitchen from the back den when Rick bounded through the front door looking frenzied and angry. Daryl raised his eyebrows, silently questioning the sheriff.

“We got a problem,” Rick said, somewhat out of breath.

“What?” Daryl asked him audibly this time.

“Come with me,” was all Rick said before bolting back outside and down the steps of the porch. As Daryl moved to follow him, he saw something he hadn’t noticed earlier. Or rather, he didn’t see it – the bag and gun y/n hung from the mounted coat rack by the door was gone.

Daryl pushed that away to figure out later as he tried to catch up with Rick. He followed him straight to the basement that housed Negan in a cell. He braced himself for the worst as he pushed past Rick and through the door to investigate and saw – nothing.

Daryl cursed at the sight of the empty cell, the door swinging open, singing a taunting tune.

“Nothin’ was broken,” Rick said, “so someone had to let him out. Or he picked the lock somehow. But we are very careful about what goes into his cell with his food, someone would have had to help him either way.”

Daryl threw the cell door all the way open and stomped inside to look around. A yellow piece of paper folded and placed neatly on the cot caught his attention. He picked it up and carefully opened it, already certain what it would tell him.

I’m sorry. That was all it said.

“It was y/n,” Daryl said so softly Rick wasn’t sure he heard him right.  

“What? How do you know?”

Daryl handed him the note. “It’s her handwritin’.” The pen matched the note he’d found in his cell at the Sanctuary, and other little notes she’d left him around the house in their months before Negan.

At that moment, Michonne burst through the outer door. “Rick,” she managed to get out through her panting. They stared at her expectantly as she caught her breath.

“I was checking in on our supplies this morning,” she finally said once she could breathe. “There are a few guns missing, and a good bit of food. Enough for someone going on a run, but no one was scheduled to this week.”

Rick gave Daryl a knowing look.

“I ran to the front gate to see if Eugene knew anything. He told me Rosita had the night watch, but that y/n came out in the middle of the night and relieved her – told Rosita she couldn’t sleep anyway, she might as well be useful. When Eugene got to his post this morning, there was no one there. And a car is gone.”

Daryl stormed past them both and out the door, fuming. He was going to hunt them down. He’d kill Negan and be done with the evil bastard forever. And her. He didn’t know what he would do with her yet, but he knew he was done with her. This was twice she’d chosen him over Daryl – once when she snuck Daryl out and stayed behind. He watched her walk right to Negan like she belonged there. Now she’d not only let Negan out, but run off with him?

He didn’t notice Rick running up behind him until he spoke, “maybe you should let ‘em go, Daryl. She won’t let him come after us, anyway, she would never do that.”

“Naw,” Daryl huffed, “this is personal.” He reached his motorcycle and mounted it. He nearly peeled out as he left the house driveway and made for the gate of Alexandria. More of their people had gathered there, wanting to know what was going on.

He weaved past them on his bike and was about to shout at Eugene to open the gate when he noticed it was already half open, and someone was coming inside.

Daryl froze in confusion as he watched her walk inside. She’d come back. On foot? His heart was pounding in his chest, he didn’t know what to make of this.

She was sweaty and dirty, and had some walker blood on her, but he didn’t see any injuries on her as she walked past everyone’s questioning looks straight to Daryl on his bike.

“I guess y’all found my note,” she said with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. He didn’t return her smile.

“I’m sorry, Daryl,” she said, tears filling her eyes now. “I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t stay with him here. But I couldn’t leave you, either. This was all I could think to do.”

Rick was beside them now. “You let him go?”

“Yes,” she said, not taking her eyes from Daryl’s. “I gave him food and a couple of weapons, blindfolded him, and drove as far away as possible, taking random turns and even backtracking, until the car ran out of gas. Then I told him to figure it out from there, but if I ever saw his face again, I’d shoot him on sight. I walked back. He didn’t follow me.”

Rick sighed heavily, then grasped her shoulder. “Well, then. That’s done.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling at little at Daryl now, “it is.” He nodded and couldn’t fight the returning smile creeping to the edges of his mouth.

She climbed on his bike, wrapped her arms more tightly around his waist than she needed to, and he drove them both home.

CUTE

Midday naps and business meetings.

boyfriend! Daryl x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive

Word count: 522

Copyright © 2023 r66dus on Tumblr. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format or translation.

REQUEST INFO || Masterlist

He came home from doing whatever he had to do that day and got in through the basement door to find you napping on the couch he had slept in alone at night before you two admitted your feelings to each other.

You were always cold and he found so heartwarming the fact that you’d curl up in a ball to sleep when he wasn’t there. He took the book you were reading from your hands to set it on the table before kissing your forehead tenderly.

Taking his shirt and shoes off, he grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair to cover you with before laying next to you. The closeness from his bare chest woke you up with a startle.

“Shit!” You whisper-shouted.

“Shhh ‘s just me sunshine. Go back t’ sleep” he reassured with honey in his voice. Daryl did this often, he’d come home to find you asleep and lay next to your sleeping body. The archer would rarely fall asleep in the middle of the day but he craved the proximity so he stayed for as long as your sleep lasted. Sometimes this was more intimate than sex.

“Hmm did I fall asleep?” you mumbled definitely still asleep.

“Mhm, ya still are” he affirmed with a soft throaty chuckle while playing with the ends of your hair and admiring your features.

You moved your hand to feel him, mostly to confirm he wasn’t the product of a vivid dream “Mmm and you’re half naked” you paused, cracking one eye open to check what your fingertips felt, his naked chest “bold move Dixon. Getting in bed with a taken woman, didn’t take you for that kind of guy”

He chuckled lowly, the kind of chuckle that came from within, laced with adoration and love. You never really had a filter to what you said but sleep was definitely a stronger form of alcohol for you, you also adored flirting with him and watching his reaction. Your flirting was also a welcomed form of reassurance for him.

“Go back to sleep woman” he trailed off covering your now open eyes with a loving hand when you began looking him up and down with a teasing smirk. His eyes softened when he smiled at your behavior, god how he adored you, even when you made his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. You were enjoying this far too much despite having been dead asleep minutes prior.

“I will!” You said laughing at his actions. Then, you removed his hand and kissed it before he hugged you closer with it by the waist “and when I wake up, you can take off the other half, do we have a deal?”

“I guess we do” he agreed, nudging his nose against yours, prompting you to tilt your head up to kiss your lips amorously and caress your cheek with his thumb. Once the kiss started turning into a make out session you both pulled away with somewhat of a saddened sigh from the loss of contact but stayed close enough so he could hear your whispers.

“Love doing business with you”

NEW WRITER ALERT.

What an excellent first fic! I got all tingly reading it. Can’t wait to read more from this talented writer!

DISTRACTED

2 Nov 2023

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Explicit, implied sexual content, sexual language, swearing

Setting: Alexandria

Summary: Upon realising how potent your little infatuation is with a certain archer, you decide to act on it. 

Author Note: My first ever fan fiction. I had this idea to express how I'd think sexual tension with Daryl could potentially manifest.....it is definitely harder than it seems to try and capture already existing characters and write them successfully. I’m a bit unsure about the dialogue, and the ending feels a bit rushed, but I hope it works.  - Sól

Never did you believe that these ‘chemicals' you always heard about were capable of affecting a person in such a way. You always used to think that being infatuated to this degree was a farce, a fun exaggeration of the truth. But my god were you wrong. And perhaps you've been wrong for a while.

That's what you realised sitting amongst your family in your shared Alexandrian home. You had been here for a couple of months now, and everyone was comfortable enough to let their guards down and enjoy a domesticated, casual occasion. Everyone was happy. You could hear Abraham's hearty laugh bouncing off of the walls. You could make out Glenn cracking some joke to the right of you. Rick was relaxed for once, smiling at the scene before him. Rosita and Tara were conversing to your left, but you'd checked out of the gossip session after getting caught up in the sight across the room.

You hadn't even meant to get distracted.

You swear.

You also swore you could hear Rosita asking you something, but alas, those chemicals in your brain fogged all of your other senses.

With his arms crossed, you watched as his hand smoothed down from the top of his shoulder, so tantalisingly slowly, down to his elbow and back up again at an ever agonising pace. You stared, enraptured, as his strong, muscular palm very lightly gripped his bulging bicep absentmindedly, while he nodded in response to a very animated Aaron. 

That was something you liked about Daryl. No, it was something that you realised made you embarrassingly aroused; the squareness of his hands and definition in his arms had you reeling. There was something in particular about passing by Daryl, whether he was tinkering with his bike, or back at the prison working the gates, or simply walking about the streets in Alexandria, that really got you going — his forearms shifting when twisting a screwdriver, his triceps flexing when aiming his crossbow, and the sheen of sweat glistening from his shoulders in the hot heat…

Reluctantly dragging your eyes from his arms and across his broad chest, your eyes met his two steely blues which were now looking directly at you.

Resisting the urge to look away, it was as if time stopped. You felt confined to the lounge by his stare, and it was exhilarating. The tiny smirk which lifted the corner of Daryl's mouth had flipped a flirtatious switch in you, and your eyes began to traverse the length of his body as if your life depended on it.

Slowly crossing your legs and slipping your hand down your leg and across your thigh, Daryl continued his equally invasive perusal of your body as your gaze travelled lower and lower down his. The tension became palpable. 

A myriad of dirty thoughts came to light, as you not-so inconspicuously trailed the waistband of his black jeans. Now that you mentioned it, the belt holding them up looked a little tight, as if whatever tent that was underneath was just about to protrude and —

“What are you so hot and bothered by Y/N?” Tara cheekily asked while trying catch a glimpse of whatever it was causing you to blush. 

“I think we already know the answer to that” Rosita said. Still in a bit of a daze, you uncrossed your legs and covered your cheeks to try and subtly dissipate the redness there. 

“I’m not. ‘Was just thinking about stuff…” You murmured. Rosita put a hand on your leg and leaned in to whisper something. 

“I bet. But it definitely wouldn’t have anything to do with the surly, tomato-faced man over there, would it?”. You grasped whatever courage you had left and snuck a peek at Daryl, who was now hiding behind a glass of something, having moved to another side of the house. You noticed the glass he was holding wasn’t very effective at hiding his slight fluster. 

You sighed. “No, it doesn’t.” You deadpanned. “In your dreams ‘Sita. It’s not like that.”

“Oh, but it is” Tara interjected. “Look, we’ve known each other for a while. I’d like to say we’re good enough friends for us to know that—” 

“You have a fat crush on Daryl. And everyone knows he has a fat crush on you.” Rosita finished.

You were usually a very honest and down to earth, but now, that couldn’t be further from reality. You decided you could play this two ways. You could keep denying your sexual interest in the man. Or, you could admit to your imagined undressing of him and succumb to their teasing. You decided with the former.  

“I’m not even going to entertain that. Just because we’re good mates, doesn’t mean anything but that. Mates. Friends.” You explained. You half-knew they could see through your facade, but you trudged forward anyway, digging yourself into a hole of your own making. Pointing at Rosita, you added “Plus, as you said, the dude’s surly as fuck. He’s more concerned with trying to squint like Zoolander than anything else…”

“Y/N likes Daryylll!” Tara sang merrily at an annoyingly high pitch. Her and Rosita laughed, continuing to teasing you for a bit longer. They got back to talking again when they realised you wouldn’t budge, so you utilised the opportunity to find Daryl again. 

There he was, seated in an armchair with his signature, piercing eyes surveying the room. It was like he practiced that squint in the mirror. It was almost as practiced as male models on a runway. ‘Daryl could be a model’ you thought. He had that look about him. He had a gorgeously well built, muscular frame, strong enough to pick you up and throw you, probably. His signature scowl was more like an intense gaze, replicating exactly what you saw of those men in magazines. Except, it was Daryl. He was hotter than all of those men combined. He was the epitome of man. Daryl Dixon was gorgeous. Your smile widened substantially just thinking about it. The throb down below was getting electrifyingly worse. It was hard not to imagine his calloused hands gripping onto both of your spread thighs, descending onto you with those whirling blues and smug curling up of his mouth. He was so incredibly hot, and there was nothing you could do about it.  

You guess you did have a ‘fat’ crush on Daryl. 

Realistically, what was the worst that could happen if you made a move? It wasn’t usually your style to be the first to initiate that sort of thing. But you two had such a deep friendship that a little admission of something more couldn’t ruin it, right? You could feel your heart beating in your chest. Even if he didn’t reciprocate, surely it wouldn’t diminish the bond the two of you shared ever since you met in Atlanta. Worst case scenario, you’d have to distance yourself for a while. That’s not so bad. 

Deciding to be brave, you abruptly got up and grabbed a drink from the table. ‘A bit of liquid courage’ you hoped. Receiving knowing looks from Rosita and Tara, you rolled your eyes at them, only to notice Daryl was gone. Drinking a glass (or two), you approached Carol. You were about to ask her of his whereabouts when she beat you to it. 

“Down the hall, in the kitchen I think” she stated as you approached, with a seductive wink to go with it. She was a very perceptive woman. 

Shooting her a tiny grin, you slowly made your way down the hall. Whether placebo or not, you could feel a slight buzz from the alcohol already. After all, you didn’t drink these days. 

The music was a little bit quieter down here. Psyching yourself up, you made it to the kitchen’s entry, and there you saw him. He detected your presence before you even made it to the door, ever the skilled hunter. 

“Hey…” Daryl said. You leaned against the archway, glass in hand, and smiled. Before you could reply, he grabbed something from the counter and flicked it at your forehead from across the room. It bounced straight off and onto the ground. 

Maintaining eye contact with him, you sipped the rest of your beverage, and placed the glass on the small kitchen island. Picking up what you realised was a blueberry from the ground, you threw it at him with more force than was necessary. He dodged it just in time. 

“That’s not very nice, Daryl” you said lowly, your smile widening. His eyes travelled down your body quickly and back up to your eyes as you got up from your crouched position. “What are you doing here anyway?” You asked, moving into the kitchen to stand next to him and lean on the counter. 

“I was tryna grab more beer”.

You hummed. That switch was flipped again. In the split second you had to come up with a response, you noticed he was gazing upon you with an equal amount of fervour. 

“Are you saying I'm distracting you?” you asked in a sultry tone. Inhaling slowly, you could smell the leather of his vest, and something woody. God did you love it. 

Daryl replied with a soft, low grunt. You slowly moved your hand and rested it on his cheek. Pushing away the thought that he could feel the perspiration emanating from it, you tapped your thumb a few times on the mole above his lip.

“You know, for as long as we’ve known each other, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how cute your mole is”. 

“Cute?” Daryl questioned breathily. “ I aint’ cute”.

He broke from your gaze and looked down at the proximity between you both. Removing your hand and placing it next to his on the counter, you lightly shook your head. 

“I think you’re wrong about that.”

Biting his lip in that little way he usually does, Daryl looked back up, seemingly gaining a bit of confidence. He pinched the bottom hem of your shirt, fiddling with a loose thread near your hip.

“Well, I think ya look cute in this shirt…couldn’t stop looking at ya before…” he trailed off. 

Getting imperceptibly closer, you could hear Daryl’s soft, shallow breaths. His eyes flicked to your lips and back up. You gently placed your other hand onto his one at your hip, and trailed your fingers along Daryl’s forearm until they reached the crook of his elbow.

“Well, if you liked what you were seeing so much, why didn’t you come over?” 

His hand was now fully splayed on your lower hip, thumb caressing the space there.

“Could say the same ‘bout ya”.

His little smirk shot arousal straight through your body. Suddenly you were aware of how hot it was in the kitchen. The space around you cracked with anticipation. The soft moonlight filtering through the kitchen window juxtaposed the heat permeating between your bodies. You could see the desire glimmering in Daryl’s eyes. 

“I’m here now…” you breathed. 

Dragging his hand up to your waist, Daryl pulled you closer. Your arm moved upwards along his toned bicep and shoulder to rest gently on the side of his neck. You could feel the intense pulse of blood through his veins, making you acutely aware of the intense throbbing making its way to your core.

“The things ya do to me woman…” Daryl husked. 

Pulling your bodies completely flush, you inched your face closer to his. Wrapping both of your arms around his neck, you whispered in his ear.

“Maybe you should do something about it…”

In an instant, his other hand came up to hold your jaw, and his lips desperately connected with yours. At first it was a bit rushed, but you blamed that on the adrenaline pumping through your bodies. He took your bottom lip into his mouth, and finally the kiss slowed. The hard, fiery melding of your mouths became more intense by the second. It was a delightful push and pull of lip and tongue. You could feel Daryl growing exponentially hard in his pants. As you carded your fingers roughly through his hair, Daryl’s hands smoothed down your back. His hands reached lower and lower, until he had a handful of your backside and —

“Daryl! Did you grab the — oh.” Rick exclaimed.

Too caught up in the moment, the both of you abruptly pulled apart with a loud *pop* sound. Gawking at the impassioned scene before him, Rick’s stunned expression turned knowing. “Uh… I’ll leave you both to it” he said with a half-concealed smile.

As Rick exited, you both turned to look at each other again, still in the same position as before. You were both heaving in breaths of air. A few seconds passed before he broke the silence. 

“Damn girl…”

“That was…woah…” you said a little dreamily. Moving into your lips once again, Daryl gave your butt a hard squeeze. 

“Fuckin’ Rick had to ruin it…” he muttered into your mouth with a bit of feigned disdain. Without breaking the kiss, you bit down on his lip, and dragged your hands down to his chest and fiddled with the collar of his sleeveless shirt. 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t continue this elsewhere…"

Breaking the kiss, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, and gave you the cheekiest smile you’d ever seen. 

“Don’ have ta’ tell me twice girl”

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Carol: Who do we know that has handcuffs?

Y/N: Well, Daryl and I—

Daryl: -elbows Y/N in the ribs sharply-

Y/N: ...think you should ask Rick.

(Sorry, decided to edit)

Y/n, Whispering to baby Judith: Say your prayers little one.. Don't forget my son, to include everyoneeeee

Daryl, confused as hell: What typa lullaby s'that?

Y/n: ... A cultured one.