#daryl dixon season 4
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currently and also perpetually thinking about season four daryl
#daryl dixon season 4#daryl dixon#twd#the walking dead#twd daryl dixon#THE HOMICIDE COP SCENE ESPECIALLY#“whats so funny?” i will literally kiss you#HIS SMILE#GOD#FUCK#“it's some deep shit y'know? ..... >:)”
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'Cause I'm a ride or die whether you fail or fly Well, shit, at least you tried.
#Daryl Dixon season 4#daryl dixon#moodboard#twd daryl#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x reader#twd daryl dixon#the walking dead#Spotify
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THE WALKING DEAD 4.04
#twdedit#thewalkingdeadedit#tvedit#daryl dixon#michonne#michonne hawthorne#norman reedus#danai gurira#twd#the walking dead#twd season 4#mygifs#cinemapix#useroptional#underrated duo
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crying, throwing up, banging my head against the wall, putting my car in reverse and standing behind it, breaking all of my limbs, digging my own grave
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Granny
Summary: You and Daryl have a secret confusing love language of insults
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,236
Era: Seasons 1-5(ish), The quarry - Alexandria
It had started shortly after your first encounter with Mr. Dixon. Simply a passing (slightly pointed) comment - nothing more - as some of you gathered around the fire that night.
Dale stands near the flames, removing a whistling pot from the heat. "Anybody want a cup of tea? Kettle's hot."
"Why dun'cha ask granny over there?" Daryl suggests, nodding towards you with a snigger. Merle's not around tonight, and so it seems he's found a way to create a bit of entertainment.
Your head snaps up when you realize you're the butt of the joke, hands stilling as you set down your work. A crochet hook or knitting needles find their way into your hands as often as that damn crossbow ends up in his; usually when it's too late in the evening to be doing anything else. "You know what? I would love a cup of tea. Thank you, Dale." You reply, taking the steaming mug that's passed to you with a smile that melts into a pointed glare the second Daryl's eyes meet yours.
The corner of his mouth twitches mischievously. "Somebody get out tha' fancy china an' the biscuits an' we'll have ourselves a real tea party." He's prodding the coals with a stick, and in the darkness, the slope of his shoulders brings to mind the image of a caveman. The thought amuses you.
You nod your head, contemplating. "Hmm... I'd be down for that. In fact, I have a feeling we might even be in the presence of a tea party expert." You say knowingly. Sophia and Carol sit cuddled up to your right, and the little girl looks curiously up at you, cradling a well-loved teddy bear. You turn to the child, lowering your voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about tea parties, would you?"
She curls into herself a little, shyly. But at her mother's gentle urging, she nods her head, a tiny smile appearing on her face.
You clap your hands together. "It's settled then! Tomorrow we shall have a tea party." The last part is aimed at Daryl - you feel proud of yourself, but the confused look on his face makes you question why. It's like you've taken his accusation as a challenge to prove just how grandmotherly you can be, and funnily enough, he's probably right. You're actually looking forward to hanging out with Sophia tomorrow; she's a pretty cool kid.
Carol tuts softly. "After school." She adds.
"After school." You agree, shooting Sophia a conspiratorial wink.
Every time Daryl spots you working with your yarn he can't resist the urge to tease you about it. Maybe it's because you take every jest in good humor, or maybe it's because you always have a quick, witty comeback. He's never quite figured it out, but somehow it's become a staple of your interactions. Even though so much has changed, he's oddly glad that this hasn't.
One night, in the dead of winter, as the wind howls through gaps in the window frames you get an ornery glint in your eye. Daryl's already found your behavior suspicious, whatever current yarn project you've been committed to hasn't made a single appearance the entire evening. And the way you keep glancing at him almost nervously is... unsettling.
When he looks up again you're walking towards him, hands tucked behind your back, trying so hard to look casual that it doesn't take long before all eyes are on you. You stop in front of him and promptly shove a box in his face. No, not just a box. It's a present, wrapped perfectly in polka-dotted gift wrap with a glittery bow to top it all off.
He stares back at you, wondering what punchline he's missed.
You roll your eyes. "It's a gift, Daryl."
"Why?" He asks. He'd trust you with his life any day, but right now - with that box - he absolutely does not.
"Well, why don'tcha just open it and find out?" You taunt, shaking the present just a smidge.
He takes the box, feeling awkward and clumsy as he tears away the paper. Having never opened a present before - at least nothing like this that is - feelings of stupidity and excitement and pressure blend within him.
He dumps the object into his palm. It's cool and smooth to the touch; a black mug with white writing that says "World's Crankiest Grandpa".
You're trying so hard to withhold from laughing that your face is turning pink.
"Think ya could get yer money back on this one?" He asks, spinning the cup around to critique it.
You slap his arm lightly. "Ah, Dixon, you're no fun."
"She might'a hit the nail on the head there." Rick chuckles.
You sit back down, finally pulling out your yarn like all is now right in the world. "Ah, I found it a couple days ago. Couldn't resist. S'pecially not after the dream I had where you were yellin' at the walkers to 'git offa yer damn lawn'..." You shudder. "Took me a bit to get that one outta my head."
That earns quite a few laughs from the rest of the group. Once again, you've managed to lift the mood of those around you. It seems to be a habit of yours.
He turns the mug over and over again, running his thumb across the letters. He knows it's only a gag gift, but he's not blind to the effort that went into it. And it's not an exaggeration to say that this silly mug is by far the most thoughtful gift he's ever received.
He hangs onto that mug, using it proudly every day. Of course, it garners the occasional question from the new folks, but he doesn't mind. Soon enough he's got a matching handmade hat, scarf, and gloves as proof of your continuing love for the grandmotherly hobby.
When the prison falls he misses those gifts severely.
But then, Alexandria. The day he comes across you there on the porch in a creaky rocking chair, with your cup of steaming tea and a ball of yarn, the once-familiar urge to say something a little stupid and a lot annoying takes over.
He stoops down and leans in. "Where's yer glasses at, old lady?"
You wave your hand to shoo him away. "Ah, git yer muddy boots off'a my porch ya ol' geezer." You nag, the smile you're trying to hide peeking out like a sun ray from behind storm clouds. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, clomping down the steps. But it's not like he's trying to hide his own smile or anything... Not at all.
When he returns home that evening, there, sitting on the end of his bed, is a small box. It's perfectly wrapped in paper that's covered in birds and trees, encircled with a pristinely hand-tied bow. He can't deny the flutter of excitement as he plops down to unwrap it. It's like Deja Vu, the coffee mug tumbling into his palm. This time it's white with black lettering that reads "I don't always roll a joint, but when I do, it's my ankle".
With a snort he falls back onto the bed, letting old memories wash away the burdens of the day. However he can, whatever it takes, he'll hold onto the hope that you'll both end up old and gray and worn someday - together.
#twd#the walking dead#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#twd season 1#twd season 2#twd season 3#twd season 4#twd season 5#optimist pine
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he is so impossibly broad, it is genuinely making me insane. size kink goes hard.
#season 4 daryl does things to me#i just got lip plumper in my eye help#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x y/n#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixon x you#norman reedus#daryl dixon smut#norman reedus x reader#daryl dixon twd#twd daryl#daryl dixon blurb#daryl dixon headcanon#daryl dixon x female reader#daryldixon
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acting normal while watching the walking dead only works if this mf isn’t on screen 🙄🙄🙄
and he is always on screen, let me add.
#daryl dixon#yes these are all pics from prison era cause thats the era im rewatching rn#arms yum#the walking dead season 4#the walking dead
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I cannot focus on this goddamn show with Daryl Dixon's arms always on display.
Like dude, I see them, now put them away.
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The Walking Dead
Season 4 - Episode 2 : Infected
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NORMAN REEDUS as Daryl Dixon
THE WALKING DEAD — 4.02 | "Infected"
#norman reedus#daryl dixon#daryldixonedit#daryl dixon gifs#twd#twdedit#twd gifs#thewalkingdeadedit#the walking dead#the walking dead gifs#the walking dead season 4#my gifs#queue me up scotty#*#*gifs#*gifset#dailytwd#dailytvfilmgifs#dailytvgifs#dailyfilmsource#dailyfilmandtv#dailytvedit#dailytvsource#dailytelevision#dailytvactors#dailymalestarsedit#dailymalecelebs#dailymalesource#dailymencelebs#dailymengifs
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Tease
Summary: The meeting has been going on for a lot longer than expected, so Daryl helps alleviate your boredom.
Paring: Daryl x reader (gender neutral)
Genre: Suggestive?? I guess?? (like it's not smut but it almost is)
Word count: 666 (😈)
A/N: I've had this idea in brain for at least a month I NEEDED to write it down (I have a thing for being publicly teased) ((I'm finally getting some motivation to write again!))
~~~~~
You leaned your chin against your palm and glanced out a far window, and sighed softly, half listening to Hershel’s concerns about the prison. He had summoned you along with Daryl, Carol, Sasha, and Glenn to a council meeting. There was talk of future supply runs, watch schedules, tending to weapons, and just general upkeep of the prison and its inhabitants. You did genuinely care about the prison and wanted to keep it safe for as long as you could, but frankly, you were bored. This meeting had been going on for over an hour at this point.
Your gradually dulling eyes looked over to your boyfriend, Daryl. He returned the kind look with his shimmering ocean blues and rubbed your shoulder as reassurance, kind of as a way to say, 'I’m sure it’ll be over soon.'
Heshel and Glenn were sitting on one side, Sasha and Carol were sitting at both ends, and you and your redneck were seated on the other side. Everyone was so wrapped up in their respective conversations. It was as if you and Daryl weren’t even there. So he used that to his advantage.
Daryl suddenly stopped leaning on his fist, moved a stray hair out of his eyes, and slowly moved it underneath the table. It started with him rubbing his hand on your knee. You tilted your head lovingly and side eyed him with a smile.
After about a minute of this loving motion, without any warning, he snaked his calloused hand under your long, black skirt and placed it on your thigh. You suddenly sat up, now not thinking about anything Hershel just said about how to properly clean a revolver. He kept running his palm up and down your smooth thigh, his fingers getting tantalizingly closer to the edge of your panties.
You were keeping your composure despite his teasing, until he fucking squeezed. You gasped a bit through your nose, biting the inside of your lip and clasping your hands together on top of the table, not even daring to glance at Daryl, because you know that there is a small but devious smirk on his face. He’s even engaging and chiming in to the current conversation. That motherfucker. He did it again, but harder this time. His large hand was engulfing most of your thigh and squeezing so hard that there most definitely were bruises blossoming. But you didn’t mind. You wanted to be marked, wanted people to know that you were his.
The archer finally looked over at you, his ocean blue eyes now darker from the lust consuming him. With a raise of his eyebrows and a smirk, he mouthed, ‘Don’t fuckin’ react.’
He fucking knows that you were being tortured. He could feel you slightly squirming underneath his hand and had to hold in a chuckle. He finally released you from the torture when Hershel announced that the same meeting would be happening at the same time next week, signalling that it was over. Daryl ended the torment by running his finger under the waistband of your panties, releasing it with a small snap. You were breathing heavily now that everyone was out of the room, your now heavy head resting on Daryl’s shoulder. “I fucking hate you.” You breathed, resting your hands on his bicep. He snickered deceitfully and kissed the top of your head as an apology. “Sorry, sunshine. Just love yer reactions.” He gently guided your chin upwards with his free hand, your eyes finding his. “I wanted to help with yer boredom. You should be thankin’ me.”
“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes to the back of your head and looked away from the archer. He could see right through you, though. You wished the meeting had lasted longer just to see what else he’d do.
“Can you do that again later?” You sheepishly asked while looking back at him with a soft grin.
“O’ course. Love markin’ ya. But I’ll use mah teeth this time.”
#daryl dixon#twd#the walking dead#daryl twd#twd daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x reader#daryl#teasing#daryl dixon season 4#i need him so bad
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Ok do the thousands of Bethyl shippers realize it means they're headcanoning Daryl as a pedophile or
#a 40-something dating a 18yo is weird enough but I'm pretty damn sure she wasn't even 18 yet. And they MET when she was 16.#I'm mad because I wanna draw them. Their season 4 episodes were great. But it was platonic. FAMILIAL.#Daryl was like her cool uncle not her *creepy* uncle ffs#did he *really* treat her any differently than he would the rest of his close family in their situation? Be honest.#a man and a pretty young woman have any kind of chemistry and y'all lose your minds#christ on a stick she called him her chaperone. ''mr dixon''. she was being sarcastic but it's literally true#I know Norman and Emily can be kinda flirty but she's fucking 40. BETH aint!#that dude with the claimers was talking smack about him 'losing some tail' and 'it was one of the young ones wasn't it'#and Daryl was boutta beat his ass for that#and I know it's because he was being a deisrespectful asshole but I like to think it's also because That's Gross Bitch#anyways#I really really hate this ship is what I'm saying#twd#I aint tryna pspsps y'all though so#anti bethyl
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So I got my mom into The Walking Dead and I thought I’d post about her journey so far
Her favorite character is Judith hands down
She cried when Amy died
She screamed as much as Lori did when Judith was born
She was VERY interested in Daryl holding Judith
We got a scream when Patricia got mobbed, and an “oh, no…” when we learned what happened to Duane
Merle and Andrea were her least favorite characters until they both died. She was also terrified of Shane
She cried a LOT when Maggie was talking to Hershel while he was in his little leg coma because she lost her dad and it was hitting really hard
As of today we have
A shout when The Governor killed Martinez
A very loud gasp when The Governer killed Hershel
A full-body “OH, MY GOD!!!” when The Governor put down Meghan
Actually screaming at Rick to kill The Governor while they were fistfighting
A very loud “OH, NO” when she believed Judith was dead
She kept asking if Rick was dead while he was passed out in the house
We had a very interesting discussion about who was living in the house where Carl got the pudding
A brief intermission so she could do work and the entire time she kept asking me about the prison bus that was supposed to have Glenn on it and she was REALLY upset that something might’ve happened to Judith
When we picked up at like 8 PM she was ELATED to discover that Judith was okay. Then she started yelling at Tyreese for leaving the kids alone to go help someone
She’s terrified that Lizzie is gonna hurt Judith because “that girl has issues”
Side note, when Daryl and Beth found that massacre and she saw the kid’s show she was like “ARE THOSE THE KIDS??? ARE THOSE ALL THE KIDS?!?!” Despite the walkers and corpses being grown adults
She just saw the bus she wanted to see so bad and she even didn’t realize that it was the same bus
This woman turned 53 yesterday and her TWD journey is just beginning. She is already distrustful of Terminus but I can’t wait to see how she reacts to them being cannibals
EDIT: Mom enjoyed the middle finger house fire 🖕
#irl#the walking dead#amc#amc the walking dead#twd#twd series#twd season 4#twd season 1#twd season 3#spoilers#twd spoilers#twd season 2#judith grimes#carl grimes#rick grimes#michonne#michonne grimes#lori grimes#carol peletier#daryl dixon#tyreese williams#mika samuels#lizzie samuels#the governor#Woodbury
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beth: "are you serious?"
daryl: "yea it's a serious piggy back"
#the way he does not hesitate for a minute😭😭#they're platonic to me#post#twd#twd season 4#the walking dead#daryl dixon#beth greene
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Dream
Summary: in which Daryl discovers something about his heart
Warnings: Typical TWD content
Word Count: 1,021
Era: Season 4, the Claimers
A/n: The most selfish thing I've ever written - but also my favorite <3
Wooden boards creak beneath the soles of his boots as he climbs the stairs of the cozy cottage. Beside the front door, using the wall as a brace, he toes off mud-caked shoes, adding them to the pile of others, all smaller than his own. Dried clumps of dirt scatter about, some falling through gaps in the porch to join the barren ground below. The lanky old tomcat abandons sunbathing to rub lazily against his pantleg with a purr, and Daryl appeases him with a good scritch under the chin.
The screen door is unlocked as always, and as he crosses the threshold into the home his heart settles into a comfortable lull. A breeze flows in through open windows, ruffling faded curtains and artwork made by tiny hands taped to walls; fluttering the pages of a book laying open and knocking over pieces of a board game strewn about the floor. It fills the space with the gentle sounds and smells of early summer. Blooming flowers and birdsong.
He sets his kill down as he passes through a kitchen that bears the remains of freshly baked muffins, few left intact in an abundance of crumbs. Out of a cooling teapot wafts a pleasant blend of lavender, cinnamon, orange, and clove.
He pauses for a moment before the back door, listening as laughter and high-pitched squeals echo just beyond it. Then, pushing his way to the other side, his heart leaps. He's barely taken a step when he's bombarded.
"Daddy!" Voices shout as a tangle of little arms entrap him, tiny bodies clinging to his legs and stepping on his toes. A baby's happy shrieks add to the clamor of giggles as he ruffles sun-warmed heads, attempting to tug his feet forward.
But then they get him down and he lands with an 'oomph' in the soft grass, sharp elbows and knees clambering across him like he's a new piece of playground equipment to explore. The dog's licking his face, and the baby's hands clap excitedly and now everyone's laughing.
"Woah woah woah, time out." And there you are. You lean over the chaos with a grin, the sun framing your silhouette as tree branches sway behind you. You smell like spearmint and lily of the valley, cheeks pink from working the garden, and as your hand comes to rest on the slight bump of your belly he knows he's never seen a more beautiful sight.
"Did ya leave somethin' dead on my table again, mister?" You question, hands moving to your hips in an attempt to be stern.
There's no getting away with denying it, so he'll plead his case instead. "Ain'tcha gonna help me out 'ere?" He asks, reaching a hand up to you.
You ignore it with a shake of your head. "Guilty men must pay for their crimes." With a sharp nod, you turn to the children. "Show 'im his punishment." You instruct, bare feet making way to gather up the baby who's beginning to feel left out.
Those itty-bitty fingers are too good at finding every secretly ticklish spot, and he can only hold out for so long before he has to wriggle away from their assault.
On his feet again, he reaches out and spins you toward himself breathless and spirited. "Guess if 'm already a criminal I migh' as well steal'a kiss." He says, moving his hand to cradle your bump and the little one growing inside.
"Might as well, huh?" You repeat, the smile on your face so radiant that when your lips touch an overwhelming contentment courses through him. A soft, pudgy palm lands on his cheek and the two of you pull apart to the wide eyes and dulcet coos of the baby. He cups his other hand around the little head, placing a tender kiss on top.
The little rascals waste no time returning to their ruckus, tugging at him to follow. "Daddy, c'mon! We gotta show you somethin'!"
"Yeah! C'mon, Daddy!" The voice cries.
But he's stuck in place, unable to move as everything begins to fade away.
... No... Daryl can feel consciousness pulling at him, roughly dragging him into a new day. He begs his mind to stay; to linger. He never wants to leave this moment, a memory of something that never happened - that would never happen. But he can't stop it and he wakes on the cold cement, eyes opening only to focus on the bloodied floor where a man took his last breath a few hours ago.
He knows now. He can't stay with these people. The desperate ache in his chest reminds him of everything he'll lose if he gives up now. Even if all he loses is a dream. It would be too much.
That night, ready to make his move and depart from the men while they're distracted, he hesitates, just for a second, his heart dropping suddenly into his stomach. It's Rick, and Michonne, and... you. Sitting on a log right there, so close, face illuminated in the flickering firelight. Even in the darkness, he can see the swell of your abdomen holding his future - your future.
Your eyes find him at the same time that the barrel of a gun is aimed at your head. He's never felt a fury like he does now, all-devouring and consuming...
When it's over, you pull him close, burying your face into him like you can hide away in the folds of his clothes and the beat of his heart. His arms wrap around you so tightly, and oh - how he wishes he could keep you right here, where he knows you'll both be safe and protected. But he can't.
You pull away slightly, just enough to whisper, "We're okay. We're gonna be okay."
He nods, one hand on your belly and the other bringing your head back to his chest. Just for one more moment. He desperately wants to tell you his dream. To tell you that he believes that too. But he settles for, "I love you."
Your voice echoes back, clear and true, "I love you too."
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☾₊˚ ༘⋆
“you’re gonna be the last man standing.”
“you’re gonna miss me so bad when i’m gone.”
and daryl hated how right beth greene was. he hated how much of an impact a teenage girl would have on his life. she really helped him see the good in people, and appreciate the seemingly insignificant things in life that he’d usually look past. he never would’ve thought a sheltered christian girl could be so right about him. and the fact that she could see through him so well, it made him feel so vulnerable, but in the best way - like he was meant to be seen all along. beth helped daryl to see life in a broader range of color.
he hated how right a young girl could be. and he hated how much he missed her and her effervescence toward the positive prospects life had to offer.
because he never had the luxury of developing the mindset that she had when he was her age.
daryl dixon missed beth greene — so, so much.
☾₊˚ ༘⋆
#this isn’t a ship btw#she was 17#but they def wouldve become great friends#daryl dixon#beth greene#the walking dead#twd#twd season 4#goblin speaks#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl dixon drabble#twd drabble#twd beth#twd daryl#sibling energy
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