#daryl dixon x trans!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redcoralpot · 9 months

Note

Can you do Daryl finding out reader is trans? Early season 4, perhaps? :3

Attentu - Daryl Dixon x FTM Reader

Your wish is my command!!

Warnings: Gore, murder, violence, blood, cussing, mentions of transphobia and death, and addictions.

Word Count: 2.6K

You eagerly join in on the medical supply run, despite the group's awful luck. A confession from Bob has you feeling quite guilty about a personal matter...

It was dead.

You threw the car battery to the side, sick of the luck your supply group had. Daryl was on the other side of the room, shuffling through drawers in an attempt to obtain the right part. For an auto repair shop, it was horribly disorganized.

“Got anything?” you called over, impatient.

A grin took over your face as he tossed the find at you, catching it in a firm grip, “Nah.”

The car was not in terrible shape, not really. Some rust here and there, with paint scratched off from long road adventures before the outbreak. Your father had a similar car when you were just a child, and he was insistent that he passed on his knowledge, despite your mother’s constant objections. It was not fit for someone like you; that your hands should never be calloused from the tough ground nor covered in grease, she said. He always ended up laughing in her face.

So as he would have it, the two of you got in all sorts of trouble. Hijacking cars, picking locks, prying cabinets open with a pocket knife; all things he said would come in handy one day. Daryl seemed like he had the same type of upbringing, all rough and tumble, and perhaps that’s what drew you to him. That, or he was just really damn good with surviving.

Daryl’s footsteps creaked as he led the way out of the building, shining his flashlight on any possible threats around. Someone had to, as you weren’t keen to look after Bob found an old walker stuck under a desk, ending that misery. It was the only one left. One by one, you circled out of the building, with Bob’s silent trepidation behind you as you arrived back at the car. Daryl opened its hood again, and you both set to work.

His voice was muffled around his cigarette, “You never told us about the group you were with, before.”

You glanced up as Bob replied, “Which one?”

“You know,” he continued, when Daryl gave him a look, “when you found me out on that road, I almost kept walking.”

“Why’s that?’

“I was done being a witness. It happened two times, two different groups.”

…

“I was the last one standing, like God intended for me to see it over and over; a curse,” he shook his head, pursing his lips, “but, when it’s just you out there with the quiet, I used to drink a bottle of just 'bout anything just so I could sleep at night.”

“The run to the big spot, I only did it for me.”

You froze, a jug of clear liquid still in your hands. Daryl took it from you, completely unfazed, and managed to get a swig out of it.

He licked his lips, “You gotta keep busy somehow.”

“No, I did it so I could get me a bottle, a bottle of anything. That’s what got Zack killed.”

“That’s bullshit,” Daryl peered at him, “why don’t you get in there and try the engine? Should be the red and green wires, it ain’t rocket science.”

Even as Bob walked away, you stayed silent. Your fingers burned as you rigged the working car battery back in, but never as much as your thoughts. The other man nudged you, urging you to take your hands off as the engine roared in front of you. He clapped his hands and brought them up to his mouth; a sharp whistle rang through the air. Bob’s alcohol troubles seemed to be forgotten by Daryl, since he gave you a rusty smile while you slammed down the hood.

“Nobody coulda’ known, and you ain’t gonna be standing alone. Not anymore,” he reassured Bob.

You huffed, swinging a few plastic bags of gas in the back seats, ducking to join them. Tyreese and Michonne got the rest and the three of you squeezed together with the luggage, closing the door. With that, you left the burdensome place behind.

The ride to the college was short, but Bob still parked a little ways out, and the group set off to walk the rest of the distance. You passed most of the buildings on campus; dull brick that plants jumped at the opportunity to outgrow after a year of inactivity.

“Looks like the building we want is up ahead,” Tyreese stated.

For the first time since Bob’s confession, you spoke, “Are we splitting up? We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Is that safe?” Michonne questioned, and Daryl eyed you.

“I know I can cover myself, if I end up alone.”

The brunette scoffed, and you shifted a glare at him, “You know I can, too. You’ve seen me.”

“I think,” Bob uttered, “it’s a good idea.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, I’ll shoot if I run into any trouble. Meet me back at the car.”

Outside of the Learning Resource Center, you split from the group, sneaking close to the ground. You heard the rest shuffle in the opposite direction with a soft “C’mon, c’mon.”, and let out a shaky breath. Two pairs, then three pairs of footsteps faded away.

The lights of the wing flickered and let out fading sparks as you padded along, dust pillowing up from wherever you stepped. God, the outbreak sure did a number on this place. Shadows grew as abundantly as the plants, but never dulled the smears of blood along the walls, floor, and shattered glass. It cracked and snapped under you, somewhere behind you, and you hissed as you looked at the walls alongside you. There were several doorways leading to different rooms, most likely supply closets or classrooms. Carefully, you dipped yourself into the nearest doorway, a heavy feeling on your back. Your heart pumped wildly in your chest and your stomach had a sick pit of anxiety as you thumbed through the biggest drawers. There were plenty of jars, containers, and vials, but none of them had what you needed. You read all the labels once, twice, the text in messy handwriting or tiny fonts.

Testosterone, in its liquid form made for injections, should be a clear liquid. You knew that much from what your provider told you, and from your own studies. Any colored liquids, or any with particles floating inside, you discarded from your search immediately. You were taking too long, you started to think, or were you? You didn’t know if you were gone for ten or if you have been here for thirty.

Once again, you slid back into the trashed hallway, trying to make your way towards the next doorway. The only things you could hear were your quick breaths and a creak, most likely from the forgotten building. A set pattern was in your mind as you dove into the room, and the haze of adrenaline made it hard to think. Walkers, as the prison liked to call them, were not your biggest concern. Even before the outbreak, it was dangerous for you to step outside; to live your life. If you passed by the wrong person, your face would be on the hot topic of the community for the week after. Getting caught was not an option.

You blinked, trying to clear the thumping in your ears. The vial’s label looked like a foreign language, though you knew it wasn’t, so you peered closer at it. A gust of hot air hit your neck, and again. Hot air. This place was cold.

Your fingers scrambled for the knife at your side, it was there, wasn’t it? You slashed before you could think. Hair scratched your fingers; your knife dug into a warm crevice. The hot air turned into a raw, groaning noise. The hot air stopped.

You pushed the body to the ground and your blade was released. The blood trickled hot down your wrist. Instead of the red you expected, it was a sludgy, filthy brown. It dripped in slow droplets on the floor beside your shoes. This was the first opportunity to look at the thing, and what a sight it was.

The knife had caved in a part of its skull, which itself was like a rotten, stomped on pumpkin. It oozed and dripped the same muck over the tile, muddying the disfigured face underneath. It made Osbourne’s stage trick look like simple child’s play to anyone who witnessed the act. Its eyes were still open; bulging out in that manic, hungry way only a madman got before the outbreak. You looked away from the mess, your breakfast seizing in your throat, and you busied yourself with getting more testosterone vials in your bag. The most important thing was that it was not human, not anymore.

Stuffing your full hand in your bag, you made a beeline for the doorway.

You should have learned your lesson.

A weight tumbled over you and knocked you to the floor, breathless. It screeched, rabid, like some sort of fucked up dog. If a dog hadn’t eaten for a month, that is. It stunk, too. It stunk so bad that you thought you might die from suffocation first.

It clawed at you, gnashing its yellow teeth. Your hands were pinned underneath the mass and you heard your knife land across the floor with a clang. This was going to be it. The end. It’s funny, isn’t it? Dying searching for your lifeline. You almost giggled at the irony.

The teeth were close to your neck, aiming to kill. To eat until you were nothing but an unrecognizable pile of flesh and bones. You had to do something, and soon. The only part of your body you could move were your legs, and you tensed them up. You were going to survive this, you were going to get back to that car.

Three.

You struggled to prop your shoulder up, knocking the danger away from your neck. Its eyes were bloodshot and cloudy. As empty as a corpse.

Two.

The walker got more desperate to bite you, wiggling around harshly on top of you. You tried your best to keep your face far away from its own, but it successfully nipped the edge of your nose. This was going to hurt.

One.

Its final noise was a gurgling one, close to your ear. The weight flopped to your right side, stilling its frugal attempt to destroy you.

“You got yourself covered, huh,” a voice remarked.

You wheezed, “Christ.”

“What were you doin’?”

“Shit.”

Daryl stepped over you, pulling his arrow out of the corpse, “I’m serious.”

You finally got your legs under you, and the first thing you did was back a good distance away from him. There was no getting out of this, you both knew that Daryl would know if you lied to him. Yet, he was one of the last people in the prison you felt comfortable telling. Daryl was a classic redneck, with a bigot older brother and a taste for mysteriousness. There was so much you didn’t know about him, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up like a wildfire. You would have much rather told Carol or even Michonne, if you had to choose.

“You know what Bob said.”

“Yeah,” he stated, “but you ain’t an alcoholic. I know that much.”

“I’m not, but that wasn’t the point. I only came on this run for one thing, and it isn’t medicine. It’s testosterone.”

“Why do you need that? You’re strong enough without that steroid shit.”

“I don’t get as much as you do naturally.”

“So a medical condition?”

“Kind of.”

“Even if it was, that don’t explain why you had to sneak away from the group to get it. What’re you hiding?”

“I’m transgender, Daryl. I wasn’t born a boy like you,” you murmured.

There was a parade of footsteps down the hallway, and Tyreese burst through the door, the others close behind. He looked spooked, with sweat dripping down his disheveled face. Michonne and, speaking of the devil, Bob looked no better off.

He exclaimed, “Jesus, there you two are. We gotta go, now.”

“What, why?”

“Walkers. Tons of ‘em. Let’s go!”

You gladly took this chance, shoving past Daryl to dart out into the hallway with the others. Everyone else was rushing, but it was a minute before you also heard footsteps behind you. The infected corpses swarmed the building, even though it wasn’t like that before, and it made you wonder what the hell released them. Your group ran up the stairs with walkers not too far behind, and those trapped banged on whatever surface they could reach.

“There was a ledge near the fire escape,” Michonne hissed, “we can go through there.”

No one responded unless a quick nod could be considered one, and you were off. Michonne went first, then Tyreese, you, and finally Daryl. Your legs were shaking, and you paid Bob a glance. He tensed up, seemingly trying to gauge the distance, before jumping. He was barely right, and landed a little too close to the edge, teetering off. His arms flailed and an army of bodies from below swarmed up to grab his heavy bag. You rushed to catch him, attempting to pull the man up, but he refused to let his backpack go.

Finally, you ripped both the man and his bag away from the grasp of the walkers, panting, “What the fuck were you doing? What’s in that bag that could possibly be so important?”

“He’s right.” Daryl took the bag from Bob, zipping it open.

Bob rushed to stop him, but it was too late. Daryl dropped the backpack as quick as he picked it up, and he seized Bob by the collar.

“If I ever catch you puttin’ a bottle before a need, I’ll feed you to the walkers myself. You hear me?”

You froze as Daryl let the shorter man down, pushing him as he did so. Everyone else shot him a disappointed look or a glare, and Michonne waved her hand. You were all to keep moving; the run was over, and on an especially sour note.

The group arrived back to the prison safe and sound, the most daring of injuries being bruises, or small cuts. Tyreese and Michonne left to do their own activities, while Bob left to lick his wounds. This retired Daryl and yourself alone, to an awkward silence. With nothing else to do, you picked at a particularly nasty cut on your forearm. It was starting to look infected.

You cleared your throat, “Do you have anything left in your bag?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I use some?”

“Nah.” Daryl tossed you his bag.

Carefully, you peeked inside. There wasn’t much left, some disinfectant spray and vials of a clear liquid. No, that couldn’t be, could it?

Testosterone. At least three good vials of it.

You raised them up to your face, not believing your eyes, “Daryl, where the hell did you get these?”

“Grabbed them from that drawer you found the others in,” he refused to make eye contact, “after you left.”

“Why?”

“You might’ve needed more than you got.”

That… meant a lot to you. You had expected him to at the very least ignore you, or even worse, disgusted by you. What were the chances he would grab extras for you, just in case? Instead of yelling or hitting or kicking you out of his life, Daryl did that. If you were being honest, this was one of the weirdest coming out stories to date, but nothing can really beat zombies being included.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Nah. I’m a little confused, though.”

“On the topic?”

Daryl sighed, “Yeah. Wasn’t educated that much.”

“Well, if you want, I could help with that.”

Just for a second, he looked you in the eyes. In that moment, you didn’t see hate, anger, or anything negative. Only a sharp, beautiful glimpse of curiosity.

“Yeah.”

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sandandstarz · 1 year

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Love You No Matter What

Daryl Dixon x Transmasc!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, dysphoria, unsafe binding methods, mentions of transphobia? Reader being insecure, horribly written southern accent, ooc daryl? sorry this is kinda bad

Sorry about this being kinda rushed I just had the idea and wanted to wright smth self indulgent.

The hot Georgia sun beamed down onto the broad shoulders of the man next to you, beads of sweat forming on the flexing muscles of Daryl's arms. Your eyes unfocusing from the fence of a pigpen you two were working on guiding to admire him, they trailed up from his arms to the collar of his worn tank top. The fraying seams giving way to his neck and the edges of his unruly dark hair, all the way up to his stormy eyes.

Slightly shaking your head, you tried to concentrate on the task and hand to get out of this heat as soon as possible, and not on the captivating sight of your boyfriend.

You had harbored feelings for the southern man since the second he pulled you away from a herd of walkers at the quarry camp. He had felt the same way, enthralled by the way your eyes caught the sun rays like stained glass, the small scars that littered you like the words on a novel and, he could have gone on forever, but he would never admit out loud. It hasn't been till the fall of the CDC that you both truly realized your feelings for each other were mutual. From that point on you had an unspoken bond, not a label, it didn't matter in the apocalypse, but you were together, a packaged deal. After sleepless nights on the road, the scare of his brush with death at the farm and whispered conversations in your shared cell in the prison walls, you and Daryl were nothing if not in love. Yet out here in the striking heat of the prison courtyard, a spike of pain from your ribs right under the tightly wound bandages of your chest was a stark reminder of the one thing you were too scared to divulge to the man who knew everything about you.

The fence finally completed, rose to his feet, offering on hand to help you and your accompanying tools up with him.

"Y'all right there?" his southern drawls laced with a hint of worry and you wobbled a bit on your feet.

"It's nothin', just lost my balance a bit" you smiled at him, a bit of a laugh in your voice as you saw the way his bangs stuck to his sweat covered forehead in a heart pattern.

"Good, can't have yeh' gettin sick out here cus of some bastard sun" He placed the tools into his own hands and you two trudged up the hill the cold prison walls. Just imagining the cool stone and water that waited for you there was putting a pep in your step.

Entering your shared cell you flop onto the bed, arms stretched above your head to relieve some of the pressure on your shoulders after the day's work as the taller man beside you goes to lay next to you. Even though you love him with all your heart you still throw the pillow at his face.

“Shower first dirt man”

He shoots you a mock offended look before giving you a kiss anyway, and heading on his way to the showers.

“The things i do for you” You can hear his slightly annoyed tone under his breath as he leaves and you smile.

Now alone in the makeshift room that is the prison cell you close the curtain in front of the barred doors as some sort of privacy. Peeling your shirt off slowly the bandages you had been using since the beginning of the end wound tightly around your chest where now revealed. Angry red marks peaked from tier edges as you tried your best to ignore their stinging. Untying the knot of the bandage gingerly you began to unwrap the cloth, each time relieving a bit of the pressure on your ribs but increasing that feeling of dysphoria uneasiness that settled in your stomach. It was slow, each layer of bandages painstakingly unraveling into your hands. Too focused on the task at hand the heavy footsteps growing closer in the prison hallway reminded you of the unknown to you, until the jerk of the curtain being pulled aside brought you back into reality. Holding the portion of unraveled cloth close to your still bound chess you stared into Daryl’s eyes like a deer in headlights.

His dark hair still dripping slightly onto his threadbare tank top, his eyes raked over you in worry, quickly approaching you even as you began to startle back, there was slight anger in his gaze as well, scaring you even more than he had startled you.

“Y/n wha’ happened” His voice was stern with the slight hint of fear he had used anytime you were injured.

“Did this happen on the last run? We gotta get you to Dr. S” He again walked over to reach for you, not understanding the way you slightly cowered with your arms firmly gripping your upper torso.

“Daryl I'm not, I'm not hurt it ok, dont worry Im fine '' The words stumbled out of your mouth with a tint of fear and uncertainty you'd never used with him.

“You got bandaged coverin half your body can you expect me not to’think your hurt!” His tone raised slightly and you knew he was worried, but you couldn't tell him, you didn't know how.

Your eyes started to wet as you sunk to the floor, you were strong, you always were, but with this it felt like a hit to the back of your knees. You could almost feel the hesitation and concern on his face when he knelt down next to you.

Daryl was never good at comforting people, but seeing you on the verge of tears he was trying his best. Your body stiffened slightly when one of his strong arms wrapped around your back, but you melted into his touch quickly as his rough voice spoke with a softness barely anyone had heard.

“S’alright sweetheart, m’sorry for yellin” Your brain almost couldnt for the words to tell him it wasn't his fault, he had done nothing.

“D, it isn't that” Your voice wavered in the conversation you were starting.

“I really ain't hurt, it's just..” Trailing off your words got caught in your throat, it was almost petrifying. You knew Daryl, you knew he was accepting, that he would do anything for you, but that fear of rejection’s grip was tight on your heart. The confused tone in his voice was evident as he ushered you to go on.

“I wasn't born like you,

like a man”

The words escaped your throat, strangled and painful, shaking at the thought that this could be it, he wouldn't be ok with it, it would be the end of everything you've fought so hard to build together.

“Oh sweetheart” His voice was softer than you anticipated, his calloused hand holding your face up with a touch gentler than a down pillow. Your teary eyes met his stormy blue ones and you could almost see every emotion, every unsend word, every feeling he held onto behind them. Your faces close, he sounded almost like a whisper.

“That ain't stoppin’ me from loving yeah” You could have died happy right there, tears breaching the border of your eyelashes and flowing down your face, your lips formed into a smile, it was ok, he was ok with it, he's not mad.

Daryl's gaze turned to worry at your sudden crying but your hands not matching his own on your face you lips met. The closest you could have been to your hearts being connected the kiss was soft and passionate and you couldn't have thought of a better outcome.

Fun fact of the post:I just got a super cute hellokitty airpod case (^-^)

#twd fluff #twd angst #twd #daryl dixon #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #twd transmasc #transmasc reader #trans reader #twd trans

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dickmaster1 · 9 months

Text

Ok so thiss is like my first fic and first smut fic I've wrote since middleschool😭 so please be nice, I do take criticism just don't be a ass😊

Anyways here is a season three Daryl dixon x trans reader fic since there is none! I made it<3

It had smut in it obviously, praising, good boy is used umm idk what else have fun reading (it's alos a 4k word fic)

Quiet love

"Rick and Glenn are back!" Maggie yelled as she helped Carol open the gate for them, noticing there was another car behind them they pulled their guns out.

"Stop he is with us we found him, had been trapped in his hometown since it started"

Rick said while getting out of his car fixing his belt. Glenn got out, also running up and hugging Maggie giving her a kiss.

"Yeah he is a cool dude, he reminds me of Daryl kinda" Glenn said watching the unknown male pull in and park his big truck before hopping out. Giving a small wave to the small group, it became painfully aware how scared he was of them, not having seen people since the day his town went under.

Walking up Carol offers her hand, giving a warm smile making the man smile, his shoulders visibly going down from how tense he was. Shaking her hand he hears a loud voice turning around and he sees a dirty looking man walking down yelling for Rick.

"Rick! Come on asskicker needs her food!" The unknown man says before turning and with a confused look asks, "who is this?"

"I'm y/n it's nice to meet you..?"

He sheepishly holds out a hand for the man to shake, thankfully he does, giving him a firm shake.

"Darly" the dirty man said so low you could barely hear it, before turning to Rick completely forgetting about you. That one interaction alone makes your heart skip a beat, *wow ok good job y/n fall for a guy who you just know his name of* you say rolling your eyes mentally.

Lost in your own mind still the man named Glenn with his wife he told you about beside him comes up to you, "Let me show you around, you'll love it here" snapping out of your own mind you smile saying yes following them up to the prison.

"Who is this y/n fellow? He sounds like a girl"

Darly said leaning on the fence, pulling his cigarette out Taking one in between his fingers lighting it taking a long drag.

"He is trans darly, he said before the apocalypse started he had just gotten his top surgery, it's why he couldn't leave"

Shocked, Daryl looks over "really?? He told you that?" He wasn't Shocked about y/n being trans he didint give a fuck, he could care less how people see themselves as long as they don't mess with him he coudl careless, he was shocked he has disclosed such information.

Letting a low grunt dalry take a drag of his cigarette, watching the smoke leave his mouth. "Nice truck he has, why didn't he leave himself?"

"To many zombies, his town is small so everyone got infected quickly he was just lucky he had to stay inside" Rick looks at the man they are talking about, seeing him talking to Carol he smiles glad that the kid can be happy and safe

"Looks like you're losing Carol darly" Glenn says, coming up next to him with a big grin on his face. Giving him a look daryl scoffs, "I ain't got a crush on Carol so shut up pizza boy"

Rick laughed at the interaction, putting his hands on both of their shoulders walking with them.

"Come on let's go and make some good impressions" walking up to y/n Rick sparks up a conversation, dalry behind him watching what's going on makes eye contact with y/n.

Their eyes lock, a slight brush spreads y/n's face before turning around saying they have to with Carol leaving awkwardly.

Darly walks up to them and lets out a grunt leaning back on the shelter they are under "I think I scared him, I looked at him and he ran off" he said, crossing his arms visibly upset that the man ran off.

"Ohh that's why he started blushing!" Glenn stated enthusiastically, making both Rick and Darly look at him weirdly before hearing dalry let out a low chuckle, "Yeah ok"

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

Y/n had been at the prison for about a month now, he had fit right in becoming friends with Carol and Maggie helping the woman out alot, sometimes going out with Rick and Glenn on runs.

"Hey" Daryl said, taking a bite out of the apple he had for breakfast, y/n startled, let out a yelp turning around smiling at him before letting out a hi.

"Rick said that your town had a lot of supplies. He wants me to go get some you know the place wants to join me?" Dalry didn't know why he was asking you, he didn't know why he was so nervous about it either but he just knew he had to. Throughout your month here, dalry has watched you not in a weird way but to make sure you aren't a threat but as he watched he started to fall a bit, he didn't know why, maybe it was your hair and how it frames your face showing off your jawline, maybe it was how you handled Judith with such care that it made his heart swell, maybe it was how you treated him. You treated him well for someone who you barely knew, bringing him snacks and drinks during patrol. This caused a lot of people to tease him. He didn't understand why...well he didn't believe it, He didn't believe you liked him. He was just a redneck nobody, that's what he told himself to not get his hopes up.

"Um dalry? You ok I said yes" y/n said getting close to dalry not noticing how their chest were so close to connecting, and how dalry sucked in a breath of air holding it.

"Y-yeah sorry, let's leave in an hour ok I'll meet you at the gate" Daryl then walked off hiding the blush that covered his face.

Waiting by the gate with a small bag and a decent coat, y/n see Glenn and Maggie come out of the watch tower above her, "having fun you too?" Y/n says smirking knowing exactly what they were doing up there. Turning red, Glenn lets out an embarrassed laugh before changing the subject. "You're waiting on Daryl aren't you" glenn says leaning on the railing, he knows about your crush because Maggie knows.. blushing at the name of the dark haired archer y/n rolls his eyes about to say something before,

"Are you ready y/n?" Daryl says bringing his motorcycle near the gate, starting it up, Daryl notions for you to get on, you happily jump on, forgoing about Glenn and Maggie riding off with him through the gate.

The ride to your town was quiet but not awkward, holding onto his shoulders a blush creeps up your face you had never been able to feel his muscular shoulders before this only watching him work from afar so this was liel heaven and you were loving this, you had thought that you were the only one affected by this little supply run but much to your knowledge the grumpy archer was having trouble driving due to your touch. He had been touched before his brother dragged him to parties in his teen years so he had so much experience with it but your touch made him actually feel something other than just lust, it made him feel soft and warm and it gave him butterflies. He hated it but loved it at the same time wondering if you felt the same.

Arriving just outside the town, Daryl parked his motorcycle hiding it under some falling tree branches. He puts his backpack on grabbing his crossbow, "you ready y/n?" He said pulling back the string of his crossbow loading it with an arrow. Nodding at the archer they both slowly take off towards the town, making little to no noise. They were both very sneaky people perfect for this type of run.

Arriving at the town pharmacy they break the glass door being thankful it's the apocalypse and the alarms are all disabled due to no power. Killing the few zombies that were in there y/n looks down. "Huh hello Mr. Blake it's my gym teacher" Daryl walks up and lets out a quite sorry not knowing what to say.

"Oh don't be he was a prick refused to believe I was a man, his daughter sure though so she practically worshiped me" letting out a small laugh y/n walks off and starts cramming stuff in the bag medicine, feminine stuff anything that can fit in the bag.

After clearing out the pharmacy, y/n and Daryl go to walk to the bike only about 2 miles away from town hidden under some tree branches before a group of zombies come down the corner.

"Shit…let's go this way" y/n says, dragging Daryl down an alley only to be stopped by more zombies. Letting out al out fuck they both run down the alley turning away from from ground of zombies that were at the corner who have now gotten closer.

"Let's head to my old house! It will be safe" daryl nodded his head following y/n to his house. They both slammed the door shut when they got there, breathing heavily trying to catch their breath. Looking around the house Daryl noticed how clean it looks only small amount of dust since it's only been a month since y/n was here last, he wondered how he stayed here all that time alone, while looking around he notices a picture of a girl in what seems to be a batman shirt and basketball pants sporting a backwards hat picking it up he smiles at it.

"Is this you? You look cool" y/n looks over seeing this picture Daryl is holding, laughing at it before telling him it was the day that he had gotten approved to get top surgery and how happy he was.

Y/n looks up at Daryl expecting to see him still looking at the picture but he was already looking at him with his blue eyes piercing his heart. "Daryl you're staring at me" your heart picking up the pace as he just continues to do so. "I like staring at ya, got a problem with it?" He says tilting his head at you, challenging you to say something back. Not being one to back down you stepped closer making the gap between you smaller, putting your hands around his neck pulling him down so your lips are practically touching his ear.

"No, but are you ever going to make a move?" You say in a low voice before pulling away, smiling with pride at teasing him. Going to walk away he grabs your wrist pinning you against the wall, letting out a groan at the impact you look up making eye contact with Daryl his eyes dark with lust, and need. Letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding he leans closer to you, making your nose touch, his lips ghosting over yours.

"If you wanted me so bad why didn't you make a move huh?" His voice is low and filled with a teasing tone waiting for your response. Rolling your eyes, you try to wiggle out of his grip but not budging.

"I never said that" you knew you were lying but you'd rather lie than admit it, Daryl didn't seem to like that at all, he grabbed your face in his hand making you look at him.

"Sweetie I don't like lying, now tell me the truth" he said in a soft but dominant tone, he didn't like to be rough but knew it was needed sometimes. Not breaking y/n laughs in his face."Oh fuck off dixon" darly raised his eyebrow, smirking at what you siad before letting go of your arms still holding onto your face he pulls you toward his making you have to stand on your toes.

"Listen sweetheart this will go your way if you stop being a brat and be a good boy for me ok?" He said tilting his head slightly smirking at how your face turned bright red at the nickname, he knew he had gotten you then.

Embarrassment rushing through your body you turned your head as much as you could with the hold he had on your face, not wanting him to have a clear view of your embarrassed face.

"Aw, is someone embarrassed? Embarrassed they got caught for being a fucking brat, all because what? You want me to fuck you?" Darly smirked as your eyes widened at the last part, your face becoming even brighter at the idea of him knowing of your fantasies about him.

"Oh so now you shut up huh?" Daryl said with a evil smile on his face, you were shocked at what he had said you were close with Daryl but he never showed signs that he liked you back. This was so sudden you had to process it.

"Are you fucking with me dixon?" You said giving him a sour look, not wanting to get your heart broken but a joke. Daryl looked at you shocked and started laughing. You felt like he was mocking you before he suddenly put his warm Hands on your hips pulling you closer to him. "Do you think I talk to just anyone like this? Do you think I go around holding people like this? No that's because I've been waiting to do this with you" he takes his pointer finger and puts it under your chin lifting your face up to look at him.

"If my gut is right, you want me to, right?" Daryl said looking down at you, his eyes looking into yours deeply, you take a deep breath before making the distance between your lips none existent as you pull him into an intoxicating kiss, it was filled with need and want as your lips fought for dominance.

Swiping his tongue across your low lip asking for entrance, you gladly give it to him letting his warm wet tongue slide into your mouth. It felt like heaven to finally have datly tongue inside your mouth feeling it fight against your own for dominance, him winning in the end.

Pulling away from the heated make out session, Daryl lets out a breathy chuckle running his hand through his hair in the process.

"I didn't think you had it in you pretty boy, you're just full of surprises huh?" Daryl said, looking down at you, his eyes going back from your eyes to your lips practically craving to kiss you again, wanting to feel your plump soft lips on his slightly rough ones. "Since I'm sure you won't ask, I guess I will darlin' you mind showing me to your room so I can properly devour you" he said, his eyes full of lust, biting at his bottom lip in anticipation at your answer.

Nodding your head in excitement, afraid that if you answered he'd hear how lust filled and breathless your voice sounds. Taking his hand you guide him up the creaky stairs going all the way down the hallway to the last room before opening it. Your room was filled with old stuff, old rock posters hanging on the wall along with some vinyl on the wall. Letting go of his hand you turn to face him but come in contact with his lips, kissing you he pushes you up against the wall taking his hand and putting it under your chin for better access to your mouth. Using his other free hand he grabs your waist pulling you in closer to him.

"Oh I'm going to ruin you sweetie" Darly said in a sweet tone underline with something evil.

Slightly panting you look up at him practically begging with your eyes at him to ruin you. Lifting you up in his eyes with ease he puts your back against the wall using one hand to hold your leg and the other holding on your chin. "Do you want me to ruin you? Make you beg for my touch?" Darly said in such a sweet tone you couldn't help but whine at it, smiling at your whine he tightened his hold leaning in closer to your ear, "aww poor thing, now come be a good boy and tell me what you want from me if you don't I can't help you darlin' " Darly purred into your ear.

Whining even louder you started to move a bit before Daryl's hold on you tightened, you were sure you'd have marks on you but you didn't mind the idea you loved in fact. Letting out a defeated sigh you looked into his eyes,

"Please..ruin my daryl" you looked away blushing at what you had said, hearing the male in front of you laugh you feel him start to pick you up hanging onto him for support. Laying you down on the bed flat dalry slides his vest off his shoulders before swiftly taking his shirt off. Blushing at the action you can't help but admire his chest, the little scars on it from his past and present, his tattoo you had never seen till then it was nice. Snapping at the feeling of someone pulling you towards the End of the bed you see Daryl, the tough archer on his knees below you looking up for permission for something.

Kissing at your clothes skin he looks up giving you a small smirk, "can I take these off?" Daryl asks as he hooks his fingers on the waist of your pants, letting out a yes he wastes no time in taking your pants and your boxers off. Feeling exposed you close your legs before having them prided open but Daryl hands. Leaving little butterfly kisses all over your thighs, before coming face to face with your cunt blowing on it he laughs at how you whine at the feeling. Hooking his arms around your legs to position them on his shoulders he looks up, " you ready sweetie?" Letting out a shaky breath you nod your head.

Leaning forward Daryl gives you a long slow lick relishing in your taste before dipping his tongue in you, letting out a low Moan you grab onto his hair making him Groan into you. Gently sucking on your clit he takes his hand putting two fingers to your mouth, at first not knowing what he wants it finally clicks opening your mouth you let him two fingers in gently sucking on them.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth he takes his soaked middle finger at your entrance gently massaging it, your spit and slick mixing before plunging his finger in you. Letting out a high pitched moan you swear you can feel him smirking from his position between you. "So vocal, so sweet I love your taste" He says before starting a steady pace with his finger and tongue. Taking his finger in and out of you at a slow pace he continues to eat you out sucking on your sensitive bud while speeding up. Taking another finger he slowly inserts into you loving the feeling of your walls clenching on him. His pants became tight at his growing erection. Starting at a faster pace, he makes sure to continue to give attention to your clit, loving how your moans become higher as you reach your peak. Using his tounge to fuck you along with his two fingers you feel hot, loving the feeling of his mouth om you. You feel a weird sensation in your lower stomach whining louder as it grows bigger and bigger. Before you know it you're screaming, grabbing his hair, pushing his face into you more, riding out your orgasm in his face.

Slowly coming down from your high, Daryl continues to lap up your wetness, loving the salty sweet taste. Lifting his head up his face is glistening with you on him, he lacks his lips before taking his fingers in his mouth slowly sucking them clean. This action makes you whine, clenching your thighs together. Chuckling at your action he puts his hands on both thighs spreading them open, leaving hot kisses on them before gently kissing your clit, smiling at how sensitive you are. Whining at just a simple kiss he loved it, loved having you like this.

"Do you want to continue sweetie?" Daryl asked before he did anything else, hearing you say yes he smiled again swiftly getting rid of his pants, him on full display for you now. Blushing at the sight of him, you couldn't help but stare in admiration at his length. "Are you having fun?" Darly said in a cocky tone before putting his hands under your chin. Rolling your eyes you reach for the bottom of your shirt lifting it over your head, now you were both even.

For a few seconds it was silence, just the both of you admiring each other's body. Then Daryl picks you up, letting you wrap your legs around him, pulling you into a heated kiss, your guys teeth clacking together. Setting you gently down on the bed he pulls away, a string of saliva showing. Kissing down your jaw to your neck he leaves little bites all over. Whining at the feeling you grab onto his hair raking your hands through it.

Leaving open wet kisses down your neck to your chest he gives an experimental kiss on your nipple, hearing you take in a shape of breath and let out a moan he continues, sucking and licking on it while using his other hand to play and twist at it loving your cries underneath him. Repeating the process on the other one he pulls away, to look at you. Your chest full of bites and your nipples red from all the attention they were given, your face contorted with pleasure still with a thin layer of sweat over your face.

"Please..please daryl'' you say, reaching for his face to pull him into a kiss, laughing into the kiss he plunges his tongue into your mouth playing with your for dominance while his hand travels down to in between your legs, rubbing eights into your sensitive clit.

"Please what? Come on tell me" he coos at you while still rubbing eights into you loving how you can barely even make a sound as your mouth hangs open. "Please…fuck me" you didn't expect to say it, but something inside you wanted to do it for him. Smirking he gives you a gentle kiss, "good boy, that's all you needed to do"

Sitting comfortably in between your legs he pumps himself a couple of times, hissing when he gently rubs at the tip before lining up with you mixing his precum and yours together. "Ok imma put it in, are you ok?" He asks as he gently rubs your thighs, nodding your head you put your own hand over your mouth to keep quiet. Gently pushing the head in he takes a deep breath before pushing hold of himself inside you groaning at how tight you were.

"You ok darlin'?" He says giving you a gentle kiss as he rubs your thighs to realize some pain. "Yeah..just getting used to it…you can move I'm fine" you say moaning as he moves a bit, taking himself out of you before slamming all of it you, letting out a choked moan you bite into his shoulder clawing slightly at his back. Rubbing your thighs he gives you kisses all over your body praising you for how good you're doing. "Oh my good boy, you're doing so well. I'm going to move now Ok just bite on my shoulder Ok darling"

Nodding your head you bite down on his shoulder preparing for him to move. Taking it out slowly before thrusting it back into you, keeping a slow but rough pace. He continues to do this, taking the opportunity to bite down on your neck hard,before pulling away and kissing the pain away.

Moving at an agonizingly slow pace for you, pulling out of you so he can get a better angle you whine at the feeling of not being full, before you can whine any longer he takes your leg hooking it over his shoulder for a better angle. Realigning himself up with you he thrusts into you harder, hitting into you g-spot letting out a loud moan daryl quickly uses his free hand to cover your mouth shushing at you, "be quiet for me, ok you'll be my good boy if you do" he says in a sweet, seductive tone. He starts to move at a faster paste, going in and out of you faster and faster.

Feeling that familiar feeling in your stomach tighten your claw at his back, you're pretty sure he will have marks on his back. "Daryl…I'm close.." you let out before a moan comes out quickly using daryl's hand to cover your mouth, darlys eye widen ar what you do before it's replaced with his cocky grin. He quickened his pace going faster than before, suddenly that feeling in your stomach snapped. Letting out a muffled moan you dig your nails into his back as you get fucked through your orgasm.

Slowly Daryl pulls out of you, you Hiss at the feeling. "you do so well, are you ok sweetie?" Darly said, putting a gentle hand on your cheek. "Yeah I'm fine daryl…can I help you?" You said looking up at him, his eyes widened at what you asked, "Are you sure darling?" He says with a confused tone.

""Yes I am, I want to ...please" grinning at you Daryl gets up from the bed helping you get off it as well, helping you kneel down at the spot he was eating you out earlier, stroking himself as you get situated. Placing a shaky hand where he was, you give kitten licks on the tip of it. grasping the bed, Daryl throws his head back in pleasure. Pleased at what you did you take about half of him in your mouth going up and down slowly making sure to trace the underside with your tongue. Grabbing onto the back of your head he gently guides you up and down using your mouth.

"Fuck y/n I'm goi-!" Before he could finish he pushed your head down taking him fully in before busting inside your mouth, gagging a bit you tried to swallow as much as you could but a little came out the sides of your mouth. Pulling off you wipe your mouth on the back of your hand. "Oh you did so good, my good boy" Daryl says, holding you by your chin to look up at him, before leaning down and kissing you with need and love. "Come on let's get you cleaned up"

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #x reader #trans reader

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dantesunbreaker · 9 months

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Why Do You Lie? Ch. 3/3

Daryl Dixon x Transmasculine Reader

I have this posted on Ao3, but I like having my work cross posted. This has some pretty heavy themes so be warned. I kind of hate this chapter. It was rushed and I wasn't motivated. Some traumatic stuff happened during the writing of it so I went a month without working on it. So apologizes if it doesn't live up to the rest of the story.

Trigger Warnings: Attempted Suicide, Mention of Transphobia, Mentions of Drug Overdose, Self Harm, Mental Illness

Stunned sums up about all that Daryl can feel in the moment as he staggers backwards when you barrel past him into the cell block. Shit. Of all the things, making you cry was the last thing that Daryl wants to be responsible for. Just.. he always struggled with this kind of thing. Relationships. Emotions. Anything of the like was almost like a foreign concept to him, something that would just make his head spin when he tried to wrap his mind around it. Not that he didn’t want those things. He really did. Especially with you. But it is far easier to fall back on old ways than to adapt to change. Kind of like the saying you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Daryl sometimes sure felt like an old dog.

With a heavy sigh, the archer crouches down to examine the bottles spilling out from your discarded messenger bag. Taking the time to actually read the label, Daryl finds himself still at a loss for what it could possibly be. It’s baffling. Merle was notorious for his experimenting with drug use. If you could get high from it, you can bet your ass that Merle had tried it at least once. So why didn’t Daryl recognize this one?

Lifting your bag, Daryl stuffs all the bottles back into your bag and sets his way towards the one person he trusted to know the answers to what it was and why you were after it. Hershel. Probably the only other person at the prison you readily would confide in. With such a calm, gentle soul, the old man could put anyone at ease. Daryl finds him in the infirmary, book in hand as he peacefully reads to pass the time.

“Hey,” Daryl breaks the silence as he steps into the room, setting your bag down on the table but choosing to remain standing opposite Hershel. “Can I ask ya somethin’?”

Giving a content hum, Hershel snaps the book shut and sets it down on the table as he turns to give the archer his undivided attention.

“Certainly. How can I be of service today?”

In one swift motion a single bottle is pulled from your bag and placed onto the table directly in front of Hershel with the label facing him. A word hasn’t even left Daryl’s lips before the older man is plucking the bottle off the table and turning it over in his hands.

“Hopin’ ya might be able to tell me whatever this is used for,” Daryl explains as he shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, a small pit of dread forming in his gut.

“Propranolol. It’s a beta blocker, which means it blocks the effects of epinephrine. Adrenaline. Commonly you will see it used to treat heart conditions or high blood pressure, but in some cases it may also be used in treating the physical effects of anxiety,” the bottle is once more set on the table between them. “Not something on our usual lists of medicines. Who did we pick this up for?”

That small feeling of dread forming in Daryl’s gut is suddenly a dense heavy weight that makes him feel he might drop to the floor. Of course. With all the time spent watching over you or spent with you, he knew you to be a highly anxious individual. The hunter in him often thought of you as a skittish buck, always moments from freezing in the metaphorical headlights or bolting for the trees. Things as simple as a wrong word said in conversation could stall you up, with only Daryl’s hand resting on your shoulder seeming to pull you back to reality. But somehow Daryl never put much thought to your behavior. With the way Daryl felt towards you, it was hard not to think everything about you was normal and perfect.

“Y/N,” Daryl finally manages to get his dry tongue into motion. “Had his whole bag stuffed with ‘em. Froze up and nearly got himself bit doin’ so. I uh... sorta got into it with him about. Twice. ”

“I suppose that’s why the boy seemed so distressed when I saw him run past?” The archer gives a short nod. “Well, you best go find him and not waste anymore time. Y/N is a very troubled young man. I fear that he may do something rash to himself if he hasn't already.”

Fear spikes at Daryl’s heart as he realizes the gravity of the situation. Heart thudding against the cage of his ribs, Daryl bolts towards the only way you could have gone. How could he have been so stupid? Hershel watches as the archer races away before he slowly stands to begin gathering supplies to prep the infirmary. If you were still alive, your best chance for survival was to be able to get the necessary medical help as soon as possible.

Reaching the cell block he had helped clean not too long ago, Daryl throws open the door and takes a cautious step through. Part of him expects, hopes, that you would pop your head out of one of the cells to greet him. But of course that isn’t the case. However, about halfway down the block the archer thinks he can see something scattered across the floor. Impending dread seeps further into his senses as he takes silent steps closer. Tiny blue pills pepper the ground in a sporadic pattern.

No! Rounding the corner into the cell, Daryl feels as if his heart stops dead in his chest at the sight of your crumpled form pressed back against the wall. Crimson pools on the ground just below you while a slow dribble continues from your left wrist. Dropping to his knees without grace, Daryl rips the bandana from his pocket. In most circumstances he would care more about the cleanliness of the scrap of fabric, but in his urgency he doesn’t bother checking. All that matters at the moment is getting something around your wrist to staunch the flow of blood. Tightly, perhaps too tight for your comfort, Daryl binds your injured wrist with his own trembling hands.

“Come on, Y/N,” Daryl’s words come out as a pained growl, fingers traveling up your neck in search of your pulse. A short lived wave of relief crashes over him when he feels the still steady beating of your heart. Having a pulse was good, but it didn’t guarantee that you were out of the woods.

Rough, calloused fingers brushing against your cheeks slowly coaxes you back to the realm of consciousness. Worried crystal blue eyes peer back into your eyes the moment you convince your eyelids to flutter open. Perhaps there is life after death. Why else would the man you’ve been secretly pining over for so long be kneeling in front of you? But then the pain returns and hits you like a sack of bricks. Of course, it would be far too good to be true to think you had made it to heaven. A swift and peaceful death would be too much to ask for.

“Daryl?” Your voice is thick as if from sleep, a dull ache beating at your throat.

“I’m here,” the archer shuffles closer, open palms moving to cup your cheeks as his thumbs stretch to the corners of your eyes as if it somehow would help keep them from closing again. “Stay with me, sunshine.”

There is a soft fluttering in your heart at the gentle tenderness the normally gruff archer seems to display in this moment of darkness. So unlike your previous interactions of the day. A sad smile paints your lips as you feel the need to rest once again pulling at your senses.

“You have such beautiful eyes,” you can’t keep back a half giggle half content sigh. “For what it’s worth... I love you. I care for you... Always have.”

With a trembling hand, you reach up with your blood stained appendage to stroke the archer’s cheek, leaving a trail of scarlet in its wake. For a moment you swear you can see unshed tears welling up behind those crystal blue orbs.

“I. Love. You,” you hope to drive the message home. If anything, Daryl needs to know that he is capable of being loved, that he is worth something.

When your eyes snap closed, the archer lets out an undisguisable sound of protest as he attempts to keep you from slipping away from him. Pulling you to him, Daryl presses you tight into his chest and holds you there for a tense moment. Then you are lifted up and cradled against his chest and supported by his arms. Carrying you back to the infirmary seems to take an eternity, though only because Daryl knows that your life's on the line. Sweat clings to the archer’s skin as he is finally easing your limp frame onto the bed Hershel already has prepared for you. Stricken with shock, the archer can do little more than stand beside the bed with a feeling of numbness as he finally pulls away from you. Only the nudge at his shoulder from Hershel breaks him from his stupor.

“Daryl. Daryl, I need you here with me son,” there is a sense of urgency in the older man’s voice, yet he manages to stay calm and collected. “Tell me how you found him.”

Spying the blood soaked bandana around your wrist, Hershel presses two fingers to your neck in search of your pulse. It is still there beating slow but steady. Now it is the matter of doing what he can to keep it that way.

“In one of the empty cell blocks,” Daryl is quick to answer, watching Hershel’s every move intently. “Bleedin’ from the wrist there,” he points to the fabric Hershel is slowly unwrapping. “Had little blue pills all over the floor around him. Managed to keep him awake for about a minute or two before he was like this.”

A sigh leaves Hershel. “Do you know how many he took?” Daryl responds with a shake of his head. “Let’s hope not enough. We don’t have anything on hand to treat a beta blocker overdose.”

Tense silence washes over the room as the archer begins to anxiously pace back and forth across the concrete floor. He hates this feeling. Like he is powerless, useless to do anything to help you. But he doesn’t know enough about medical shit to be of any help. He would just be in the way. So he just has to place all his trust in that Hershel will do his best for you.

“Y/N is a lucky young man,” Hershel hums as your wound is exposed to the world and wiped clean with a damp towel. “He hit a vein instead of an artery. Bleeds slower.” In fact, part of the wound is already beginning to clot and slow the flow of blood leaking out of you. “Appears he also managed to go without causing any severe nerve or tendon damage. Indeed a lucky man.”

Glancing over Hershel’s shoulder, the archer considers the wound, stunned to only see a wound no longer than an inch and a quarter. How could something so small have the potential to cause such damage? The time it took between Hershel tying off the few stitches and securing a fresh clean bandage around your wrist was miniscule.

“I’ve done what I can,” Hershel begins to clear away the supplies, cleaning up the impromptu workstation. “Physically, he will be alright,” the older man turns to fixate Daryl with a particular look. “Psychologically, he may still need some help. Y/N is going to need you, Daryl.”

Sucking in a much needed breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, Daryl gives a wordless yes as he fights the feeling of tears wanting to tickle at his eyes. As Hershel leaves the room Daryl continues to pace the floor for a few tense moments before he drops into a chair he pulls up alongside the bed.

It seems like hours that Daryl sits beside your bed, eventually reaching to pull your hand to rest in his lap. Eventually you begin to stir in the bed, making soft groaning noises as your face scrunches up in discomfort. Hopeful, the archer squeezes your hand ever so slightly in hopes to coax you further back to him. Blinking a few times you manage to return to the land of the living. Even the dull lighting of the prison hurts your eyes, but you focus on pushing past it.

“Hey,” is all you hear from your side as you finally take note of a firm hold on your hand.

Forcing your head to turn, you feel a pause in the beating of your heart as you see none other than Daryl gazing back at you with a look of pained fondness. Why was he here? Why was he looking at you that way? What happened? And then it all comes rushing back to you. The pills, the arguments, the blood...and Daryl finding you with tears hiding behind his eyes.

Before you can say anything, Daryl breaks the silence. “I’m sorry,” there is regret dripping from his voice as he stares back at you. “Hershel told me...about what the pills are for. I’m real sorry, I shouldn’t have been so hard on ya without knowin’... And I don’t expect ya to just forgive me. But I didn’t ever want to hurt you like this.”

“I forgive you,” you blurt out without a thought. It was never in question that you would forgive him, people make mistakes all the time without thinking about it. And, you knew that Daryl would truly want to cause anyone pain or distress on purpose. “Just...don’t do it again please?”

He nods simply. For a while, you think that is the end of the conversation. You glance down at the bandages wrapped tight around your wrist and can only assume Hershel took care of you. Despite the circumstances, you are grateful. Some things just happen for a reason. The world must still have some purpose for you.

“Look,” Daryl lets out a sigh after a long moment and turns his gaze to your hand still in his lap. “Ya know I’m not real good with this shit, but I’m tryin’. But...I like bein’ with you, caring for you. I’m a fool for not sayin’ nothin’ sooner.” There is a long pause of silence, you ever so patiently waiting for his next words with bated breath. “But, if you’ll have me...I’d like to be your fool.”

A new pain blooms in your heart, but not in an unwelcome way. Rather, you feel your very being ache in that moment for Daryl. But also for yourself. It is hard to fight against what you know and is your comfort, no matter how much you want what’s waiting just on the other side.

Sensing the archer’s growing unease at your lack of answer you finally part your lips. “I’d love nothing more, Daryl. I’ve sorta been hoping for a long time that you might feel that way,” feeling shy, you try to push away the heat rising up your cheeks.

Silence that is not quite comfortable, but not quite awkward fills the room as both of you look at anything around the room besides each other. It will be a while before there is a sort of comfortable ease in this newly formed relationship. Neither of you really knows how to do this, but you know that it is worth it as you feel Daryl gently squeeze your hand that still rests within his. Pink dusts his cheeks as he continues to look at the wall beside you, but there is an innocent smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

#daryl dixon x ftm reader #daryl dixon x trans reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #walking dead fanfiction

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sinsandsweetness · 10 months

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Thank you for the lovely answer about the ftm trans reader. I haven’t actually been able to find any authors who write it. Are there any you recommend I check out? I’ll let you know about a prompt. I just need to think on it first. :)

Thank you so much.

of course anon! i would love for my blog to be as inclusive as possible in every way, but specifically in regards to my content! i don’t check bios a whole lot but for those who comment often and reblog often, i definitely do. i have noticed i do have a few trans followers that read and indulge in my content pretty regularly. which of course makes me very happy😊🫶

so for those who are searching for a trans writer or someone who writes for ftm specified reader: here are the (very few) i have stumbled upon in my search for Rick/Daryl fics on this app. (i’m sure there are much more on the fluffier, sfw side of things, but if you follow me, y’all know i keep it rated R on this blog, so smut is usually what i have found)

@softhairedhotch has a ftm reader x Rick oneshot

@hopefulatrocity was recommended by someone in the comments of my repose to your last ask, they have a Daryl fic

@drewmorg4n has a Rick oneshot as well

@garlic-the-gnome also has a Daryl fic

(i have seen much more negan x trans reader fics then anything in my hunt on Tumblr and even ao3. but i don’t rlly read for negan a whole lot so i haven’t actually taken any glimpses at those. i would also suggest looking through the rick grimes x trans reader and daryl dixon x trans reader tags to browse around- tagged below)

****I’ve been meaning to make an entire post for fic recs and author recs, so for all my followers who it may pertain to, (writers, it’s ur time to shine) please, please, please comment or even inbox your recommendations of x trans/ftm reader fics you have found or wrote😉 and I’ll compile a list as a shout-out for my lovely followers and fellow authors <3

sorry this answer is so long! I just wanted to cover everything! thank you for the ask, anon. you are loved and you are wanted and I’m so glad to have you here, indulging in any of my writing, even if it isn’t specified ftm reader💗

xoxo

#anons <3 #💌 asks #twd x trans reader #rick grimes x trans trader #Daryl Dixon x trans reader

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zomtown · 7 months

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<3 Welcome to my blog! <3

You can call me N! I’m 20, queer, and non-binary.

I’ve spent a few months writing up fics and hcs in my notes app and I thought I should have somewhere to post them.

I mostly just horny post tbh!!

I love the walking dead and the many characters in it but here are some of my favs!

Negan

Rick

Michonne

Glenn

Maggie

And

Eugene

As a queer trans person most of my fics and thoughts will be queer/trans centered as that is what I relate most with.

Boundaries

My boundaries are pretty straightforward. No pedophillia, no incest, no beastiality.

I will write concepts that include gore, unhealthy relationships, general heartbreak and death. Anything trigger worthy will have a warning before it.

Nice to meet you all!✨

#maggie rhee x reader #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon x reader #trans reader #twd x reader #michonne x reader #about my blog

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sundrop-writes · 6 days

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Announcing my new fic: Heaven's Gate

Heaven's Gate is a long oneshot starring Daryl Dixon and a gender neutral reader character, featuring angst, hurt and comfort, and some fluff.

In this fic, you and Daryl get separated when the prison is attacked by the Governor, and though you both believe the other person is dead, you two end up finding each other at the most unexpected time. This fic is about hope, the human connection, and how love is about more than romance - it's about how people take pieces of each other and grow with them, never truly able to forget each other.

This fic is going to be a longer oneshot that is currently about 15k long - and will likely be longer by the time it has gone through editing. It is 80% of the way done in my drafts (not including editing), and I hope to have it posted by April 30th - which is a tentative date that may change. If you want to know for certain when the fic is posted, you can follow me here and turn on notifcations or you can subscribe to me on AO3 to get an email notification when the fic is posted. I am really excited to share this fic with all of you 💖.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you wanna get a better sense for the upcoming fic you can read it. If you enjoy this preview and you're excited for what the fic holds, please let me know!

Also an important note: with my gender neutral reader fics, I don't use any references to gender whatsoever (this is not a 'GN afab' fic). And in this fic in particular, I didn't use any pronouns (other than you/yours) or gendered terms for the reader - and at points where the terms they/them were used, I made it purposefully vague so that the dialogue could be referring to the whole group as 'they' or just the reader. I want my gender neutral fics to be enjoyed by everyone - cis women, cis men, gender non conforming people, trans people - every kind of fanfiction reader.

I am making this post for two major reasons - one, I want to generate as much excitement for oneshots as there is for series. Especially for oneshots that are longer than 10k because those take a lot of time and effort. If a series is like a TV show, then long oneshots are like a feature film. And two - nobody seems to read my pinned post where I announce new upcoming fics anyway, so I might as well make posts like these so that people can know what to expect from me. And hopefully you guys will get excited about my upcoming fics this way. And when I tag these posts with the relevant tags, people interested in those topics can follow me to anticipate the fic if they want to read it.

Heaven's Gate (Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader) - Preview

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: no pronouns used for the reader other than you/yours; there are major plot spoilers for The Walking Dead if you are watching the show for the first time - spoilers for Season 2 all the way up through Season 5; typical warnings for TWD - mentions of death, emotional despair; all of these themes and emotions are expanded upon in the full fic.

...

“Daryl!”

You called out his name as you jogged up toward the stables, and he stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to catch up with him.

“Daryl, hey.” You greeted him with a small smile. “Rick told me you’d be up here.”

He grunted in reply. “Yeah. ‘m gonna take a horse out. Make better ground t’ look for the girl.”

Your stomach clenched at him mentioning her.

The group was supposed to be headed out towards Fort Bennet - supposed to be finding refuge at the hopefully safe military base. Instead, you were all setting up camp at the very reluctant Hershel Greene’s farm, not straying too far from where you had lost one of your own in the hopes of finding her.

But that was why you had come to talk to Daryl in the first place.

Sophia had become like a sister to you in the few short months that you had known her, and though it was unlikely, you were hopeful that she was alive - that she would be found. And you did believe that Daryl would be the one to find her.

“How’s the trail?” You asked. “Do you think you know which way she headed? You - you can be honest with me.”

You hesitated on the last part. But you did want his honesty more than anything. And you knew that he was never one to sugar-coat things. Even if you hadn’t told him that, he would have given you the truth anyway.

“Trail’s a little muddy.” He said, doling out that honesty. “‘m gon follow the river. It’s her biggest landmark out there, so she’ll probably be somewhere around it.”

You smiled at him. And then, you remembered -

“I brought you something.” You noted, reaching for the back pocket of your jeans.

Daryl watched with quiet curiosity as you pulled out a piece of paper - when you showed it to him, he quickly realized that it was a half-used set of stickers.

“These are some of the stickers that I got for Sophia,” You explained. “My mom always used to tell me that cardinals are good luck.”

You peeled off a sticker of a bright red bird - as much of a nature man as he was, Daryl was never one for bird watching. He didn’t care about identifying certain species of birds unless he could shoot and eat them. But he quickly reasoned that this must be the cardinal that you spoke of.

“Give me your bow.” You said, shoving the rest of the sticker sheet into your back pocket again and holding out your hand expectantly.

“I don’t need no luck.” He replied, voice full of snark.

“Just give it.” You replied - equally snarky, equally stubborn.

Daryl sighed and tugged his bow’s strap over his head, presenting it to you. You placed the sticker on the bow’s handle, in one of the places where it wasn’t as worn down from him holding it.

“There,” You said, giving it back to him with a smile. “Now you’re all set.”

It was more for you than it was for him - a token of good faith and protection. The idea that you could do something to bring Sophia home when you felt so powerless.

Daryl let out a harsh sound - somewhere between a laugh and a sarcastic snort as he walked away. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” You replied brightly, edging on sarcastic once again.

…

When the prison was attacked, Daryl got out with Beth.

He almost couldn’t stand her bright eyes, big eyes staring at him, waiting for answers - her chirpy little voice, prodding at him, demanding that they ‘follow the trail’ and go look for everyone else. Telling him that he was a tracker, that he could find them. As if it was his damn responsibility just because he had the skills to get it done.

It was all too reminiscent of you, telling him that he could find Sophia. That it wasn’t an ‘if’ - it was a ‘when’.

Perhaps that was what got him off his ass and doing what he did best - reading the dirt.

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, staring at the girl curiously as she went to one of the bushes and rushed to pick berries from branches. Had she not gotten enough to eat that morning?

“They’ll be hungry when we find them.” Beth told him confidently.

Of course. That undefeatable streak of optimism.

Daryl knew that blueberries weren’t your favorite - but he should have something to give you. He would be too busy tracking the footprints to properly hunt for squirrels or rabbits and clean them for you. So, he found himself pulling a large bandana from his back pocket and offering it to Beth - something to hold the berries in to keep them safe as an offering for you.

“Here.” He grunted at her.

Beth smiled at him.

It was one of the last smiles she gave him for a long time.

When they came across those bodies splayed out beside the tracks - any sense of hope was crushed inside of him. The picture you had gifted him was heavy inside his breast pocket, and he hated that tears threatened his eyes - even if he knew that none of those bodies belonged to you. There was no trace of you there.

The days started to blur into each other, and Daryl couldn’t get you off his mind.

One hazy evening, as they both stared into the fire with dead looks on their faces, he took the drawing out of his pocket and unfolded it.

For good luck.

He didn’t believe in luck - because it didn’t exist. The world was fucked. Nobody was lucky. You and your good luck were dead.

He tossed the drawing into the fire, and it was only a moment, when the corner of it had barely caught, when Beth snatched it out. She stomped on it with her boot, successfully saving it.

“Don’t do that.” She hissed at him.

Daryl snatched it from her, and crumbled it up, tossing it aside. He let out a grunt, but refused to look at her.

“That was from Y/N, wasn’t it?” She posed.

He could feel her imposing stare as she waited for an answer.

He didn’t give her one.

“You can’t burn them just because you think they’re dead.” Beth sighed. “You can’t burn up memories. We’re gonna find them. Y/N, and Maggie, and Michonne, and - and everyone.”

Daryl scoffed. “Yeah. Cause that’s gon’ happen.”

Beth rolled her eyes, but didn’t speak any further on the subject.

After she had fallen asleep - when the fire was dull, Daryl picked up the crumbled ball and smoothed it out again. The charred corner hadn’t even touched your bird. He felt like a fool doing it, just as much of a fool as he accused you of being, but he folded it neatly - well, as neatly as he could - and then put it back into his breast pocket again.

But that was the thing - Daryl wished that he could. He wished he could burn up those memories.

That you would stop haunting him. Then he wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore.

…

“Can I see it again?” Beth asked, suddenly changing the subject.

Again, this was a confusing little whip for Daryl - something that clearly only made sense to Beth in her own drunken mind.

“See what?” Daryl replied.

“The picture.” Beth answered. “The one you tried to burn.”

Daryl felt a pinch of guilt surge over him at the thought. Oddly enough, this was the one time he would be willing to admit that Beth was right - you can’t burn up memories.

“It was Y/N, wasn’t it? That drew it.” Beth added on, her words slurring slightly - she lifted the mason jar of booze to her lips again and Daryl was tempted to snatch it away from her.

Instead, he found his hand drifting to his breast pocket and reaching to take the picture out. He presented it to Beth, who put down her drink to unfold it - she stared at the picture fondly under the brightness of the moonlight, tracing a finger over the slightly faded details.

“You know… my daddy used to tell me that a cardinal is like an angel.” Beth said, recognizing the bird from her father’s teachings on the farm. “Someone - someone you loved who passed away, watching over you from heaven.”

“Y/N said they was good luck.” Daryl replied.

Beth shrugged. “Same thing.”

It was this thought that kept Daryl going for a long time. The idea that even if you were dead, you were watching over him somehow. He sure as hell didn’t believe that someone like Merle would be an angel - but you, you definitely were. And even if it was a waste of your eternal life, you would be determined to watch over Daryl - to make sure that he was safe, well-guided.

You would make sure that he was lucky.

That thought alone carried him through the long journey to D.C.

It was something that lingered in his mind as the group hunkered down in a random barn - as he spotted something carved into one of the wooden beams holding the place up. Even though it wasn’t colored, he could have sworn that the long tail and pointed head of the silhouette indicated that the carving was meant to be cardinal. Of course.

Who knows who had stayed in the barn before them - if it had been left there by a weary traveler, or even put there by someone who had used the barn before the turn. But Daryl could have sworn that you - your ghost, your angelic hand - had led him to this very spot.

It was a thought that gave him strength as he held the doors up - helped to keep them from caving in while the storm raged outside.

Your luck, and your damn bird - you would keep him safe.

When they reached Alexandria, and they were forced to give up their weapons - Daryl spotted your bird perched on the fence. Bright red, with its pointy head cocked sideways at him. All too knowing, staring at him like it wanted to say something. Just like it had been when he had fallen off the cliff out in the woods when he had been looking for Sophia.

Oddly enough, it made him feel safe giving up his crossbow - perching it on top of the fully loaded cart of weapons before the awkward, bespeckled woman wheeled it away.

Rick was still weary of this new place after Terminus, and Daryl understood. He followed Rick’s lead. Especially because he couldn’t tell Rick that he had a good feeling about this place because he saw a damn bird.

But even if it was just in spirit, he felt you there. He knew that it was the home you had chosen for them.

#sundrop speaks #sundrop writes #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x gn reader #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n

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soft-for-them · 1 year

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I don't know a thing about love - Daryl Dixon x plus size non-binary reader

Summary: A Daryl x plus size non-binary reader based off the song 'I don't know a thing about love' by the White Buffalo.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: This is both a non-binary reader and a plus size reader, so cis people this isn't for you. The reader has been left vague because this is a short fic and not all plus size non-binary people are afab (really, it's real problem with authors, non-binary people aren't women!) This is coming from your very own non-binary/queer op. 👍

Everyone knows that you and Daryl Dixon are partners but everyone also knows that your relationship, or lack thereof, is complicated.

It’s clear you love each other, Rick or Carl could tell you (with various amounts of excitement) about the first time the two of you met, how Daryl’s eye widened, how you smiled like you had be given the sun and moon.

From the very start of joining Rick’s group you had it hard. Having to explain to people that you’re non-binary and not a man or woman was hard, both for yourself because you were coming out again to complete strangers and for them for most of the group aren’t queer.

Carl got it straight away, he happily used your preferred pronouns and asked you many questions most of which weren’t about being trans but where about random this like comic books and how your survived.

Rick, Carol, Glenn and Maggie learnt quickly too whilst the rest took their time getting used to someone so different to their heteronormative life.

Maybe it was because living people are hard to come by, maybe it’s because most of the bigots of the group had met their grizzly end but somehow you feel safer with Rick’s little rag tag group of survivors then the people you house shared with before the apocalypse arose.

Then there’s Daryl.

Now don’t get me wrong, the first few weeks of you joining Rick’s crew he didn’t talk to you, he just stared at you. He was raised by bigoted people and he was trying to be better, before the end of times even began he was trying to be better. He wasn’t racist or homophobic like his dad or brother nor did he go out his way to antagonise anyone (for he isn’t Merle after all) but still he was learning.

He was drawn to you, it made him panic just a bit but he has long realised that he isn’t so straight, that he identifies with both Bisexual, Pansexual and Queer, that he didn’t need a label for one he loves you and two who fucking cares.

But still it took a long time to come to terms with, thankfully you were there with him to help.

He remembers one day when you still were new and everyone was still stuck in the prison out the blue he asked about your jacket, an oversized black denim jacket sparsely covered in handmade patches.

You told him about the small amount of patches that you had; a non-binary flag on the breast pocket, an anti-Nazi patch on your arm, two ridged band patches that really should have been ironed on instead of sew on dotted around, tin badges decorating the collar like a jewelled necklace.

Over the years the jacket has evolved like he has, both have become more outward and full of love.

Daryl still cracks a smile at the back patch adorning your jacket made out of an old t-shirt of Carl’s that depicted a superhero dog.

You and Daryl talk, sleep close, sneak kisses when people aren’t looking, go hunting together, laugh at each other’s silly jokes. You’re out going and talkative whilst he stands back quiet and stoic his eyes always filled with love for you. You share clothes like it’s nothing, he loves holding you close at night the feeling of your plush body against his better than any bed or pillow, he knows you in and out, as do you for him.

But somehow still the two of you have never breached the subject of how much you love each other, you’ve neither had the conversation trying to figure out what to call one another.

Well not until today.

Sitting idly on the front porch of a nice enough house in Alexandria you work away under the watchful eye of your lover.

It was no surprise that you and Daryl were put together in the same home, neither is it a surprise that you both sit so close as the sky starts to turn orange, the sun slowly setting and the moon rising into the sky.

Knees touching, you carefully try to stick on a new patch onto your jacket next to one of many pride flags you’ve acclimated over the years.

Daryl leans over watching you quietly sew wonky stitches, his face almost pressed to the side of your round cheek.

“You know what Daryl?” you whisper, eyes flickering up to look up at him.

He just hums out a yes.

“When I first met you I didn’t know anything about love, I don’t think I fully know a thing about love now but with you I- I well-“ you face goes warm, your fingers stop sewing as he looks up at you with sparkling eyes, “-I think I’m learning because of you.”

He just stares at you for a moment, shock and what you assume is love morphing his face into a sweet smile.

That moment disappears as he leans down and kisses you, his chapped lips gentle on yours, your hands dropping your handiwork on your lap to hold his face in place.

You pull away first but still hold onto him with pin pricked hands, eye still connected staring like a fool at him, happiness flooding through your bodies.

“For years I was told I’d never find love because of who I am-“ you begin again still in a whisper, the thoughts of the long dead people who said such cruel things being pushed away by the many memories of your and Daryl.

You push a piece of his long brown hair back from his face, you smile growing big and proud.

“- but I had been looking for love below and above despite all the dead roaming around and then there you were.”

He lets out a small chuckle, one that isn’t filled with malice like old lovers did but one filled with a joy you’ve only seen for yourself.

“Do you?” he asks covering your wondering hands with his, “Because I do, I love you.”

“So many eyes in the world are searching for love and somehow I find you, of course I love you Daryl.”

The two of you laugh together as you kiss again, the set of wings you were stitching onto your jacket fully discarded as the kiss deepens.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x plus size reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x nonbinary reader #x nonbinary reader #nonbinary #x plus size reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader

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hopefulatrocity · 11 months

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From The Ashes-Chapter 7

Note: Note: First off, thank you for your likes and comments. This is a lot later post than I intended it to be. I’m working really hard on Chapter 9 and it’s taking me longer than I thought. That chapter is when Pheonyx and Daryl officially start the search for Sophia. So, they’re alone and there isn’t a lot of show dialogue for me to bounce off of. I had a couple days of writer's block and I’ve been working slowly on it. I keep rearranging how I want their conversation to go and also rewatching the season over and over to make sure I’m characterizing Daryl correctly. I want it to be believable. Long story short, I don’t want to post chapter 8 until I have 9 done, so it might be a bit until I’ve posted it. I think once I get over this hump, since it’s the first one on one scene with Daryl and Pheonyx(with Kismet as his wingman) that I’ll be able to write faster. Hopefully. Also sorry for how short this is. The last chapter and this one was originally one chapter but I want to keep my chapters around the same length(3-4k) and it ended up over 6k. So I split it up.

Chapter TW/CW: internal homophobia, transphobia, descriptions of past abuse, denial of sexuality?(Not sure how to describe it), self-deprecating thoughts, parental death.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @omiyours

Banner by: @liminal-creations

Masterlist

DARYL'S POV

As Daryl was making his way away from the service, fully intending to head straight into the woods to continue the search for Sophia, Rick caught up to his long strides and cut him off. The cop stood in front of him and Daryl narrowed his eyes at the man.

“Before you head out, I want to get the group together to make a plan for the search.”, Rick said.

“Ain’t got time for that, man. Shoulda been out at first light lookin’ for the girl.”, Daryl snapped, annoyed at being held up.

Rick placed his hands on his hips, one hand hovering on the grip of his Colt Python. “Just listen, please. Hershel’s stepson has offered his help for the search. And I’d like you to partner up with him.” Daryl was about to cut in, but Rick continued, “He’s an experienced tracker and hunter, and he knows these woods better than any of us do. He says he’s been working with his dog on scent tracking, too. With both of you, and the dog, looking for Sophia, I think we have a better chance of finding her.”

Daryl shook his head, irritated. He worked better alone. His focus needed to be on finding the girl and he couldn’t do that with someone else following him around. Having the group with him yesterday was bad enough. The woods were his domain, his comfort zone. Some stranger on his coattails, mucking up the trails, and making noise while he was trying to concentrate, wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. Not when a little girl’s life was on the line.

As if reading his mind, Rick said, “Just talk to him. That’s all I ask. If you don’t want to work with him after that, then fine.”

Daryl wanted to tell him off, or to just walk away. Before he could, Rick was turning and waving a hand to call over Pheonyx, who had been walking back towards the house from Otis’s tribute. Daryl noticed a slight hesitation and stiffening of the man’s body as he looked between Rick and himself. But it was gone in a blink of an eye. The hound dog followed behind Pheonyx and they both stopped in front of the two men.

Rick smiled at the younger man. Daryl felt his ears warm as Pheonyx lifted the corners of his mouth in return. The heat spread to his face as the other man’s green eyes met his own. The light shade of green reminded him of the pair of fern plants his momma planted in front of their trailer when he was 7 years old. The old mobile home had been extremely run down. Paint was peeling off the walls and several windows had cracks or were missing from his Pa’s violent outbursts. The small grass patch in front of the trailer was often overgrown and full of weeds. But his momma wanted to fix the place up. Unfortunately they didn’t have a lot of money for paint, or pretty flowers to plant. They didn’t have a lot of money for anything really. Momma worked as a waitress at the local diner but most of the money she made, his Pa stole to use for drugs or alcohol. He remembered the day she brought home those little ferns though. His Pa had been off on a bender for a week, like usual. She carried the tiny plants in with a huge smile on her face. They'd been on clearance at the local hardware store because some of the leaves were dried out but his momma was convinced it just needed a little love and care. That afternoon, Daryl and Merle helped her clean up the yard. Merle borrowed the neighbor’s push mower to mow the small yard and Daryl helped Momma weed the area around the front door. He and Merle dug the small holes on either side of the door for the plants, stopping to throw dirt at each other occasionally. When the ferns were planted, the trio stood, Momma’s arms wrapped around both boys’ shoulders, and looked at the trailer. It was still shitty. The paint was still falling off and there was still cardboard on the windows. But the little plants with dried leaves made it look like home. Over the next couple of years, as his mother’s depression and alcohol problems grew, so did the plants. They grew so big that his Pa forced him to cut part of them down because he kept tripping on the long leaves when he would stumble home at night. Despite that, the plants thrived and every time Daryl saw them, he was reminded of that day with Merle and momma. The look of joy on her face. It was one of the few happy memories he had with her. And it was all destroyed the day the trailer caught fire.

The ferns burned away. Right along with his momma.

Daryl felt his heart ache at the reminder of his mother. But the green of Pheonyx’s eyes still reminded him of that happy day and he was almost entranced. He barely even registered Rick standing next to him.

“Pheonyx, this is Daryl Dixon. He’s the tracker I mentioned yesterday. He’s been headin’ up the search for Sophia. Daryl, this is Hershel’s stepson. Both Maggie and Hershel say he is an expert on the property and woods surrounding it. He’s offered his services-”, a loud bark from the mutt sitting at Pheonyx’s side had Rick pausing for a moment. “And his dog, to help find Sophia. I’d appreciate it if you two would work together to head up the search for her.”

The arms he had crossed over his chest tensed. As entranced as he was by the man across from him, he couldn’t work with him. In all honesty, he was slightly scared of the emotions he was feeling. They were unraveling the identity that he had clung to for so long. He hadn’t even spoken to Pheonyx yet and his stomach was already in knots. He had to stay far away from him. Maybe then, the feelings would go away. He wanted to lash out at Rick, at Pheonyx, the emotional turmoil raging in his head. But that wouldn’t do anything besides alienate himself further from this group. It might even put them in jeopardy of being kicked off the farm. And he couldn’t do that to them.

“Work better alone”, he grunted at the man, not even looking at Rick.

Pheonyx gave a nod, not taking offense to what he said. “So do I. But I spent last night creating a plan for the search. We can split up tomorrow but I need your help at least for today. I’ve been working with Kismet,” he tilted his head towards the dog at his side, some of his brown hair falling over his forehead. Daryl fought the urge to reach out and brush it back. “, on scent tracking for the last month. I need you to take me to exactly where she and Rick split up. He can follow her trail from there. It hasn’t rained so he shouldn’t have too much trouble.”

The sound of the younger man’s voice was like a soft blanket draping over his sweaty shoulders, it eased the tension in his muscles on contact. The sound wasn’t deep but husky and light. Creeping around his head like smoke from a campfire and easing the ever-present vigilance that Daryl had grown accustomed to. Almost losing his train of thought over the drug-like effect of Pheonyx’s voice, Daryl looked towards the sheriff, wondering why he couldn’t be the one to show the other man where Sophia went missing. As if reading his mind, Pheonyx continued, “Rick needs to stay here for Carl and Lori. And Shane fucked up his ankle at the high school. Or else one of them would take me.”

Pheonyx was right about Rick. Daryl couldn’t, in good conscience, ask the man to leave his son, who had just been at death’s door the day prior. And his stomach clenched at the idea of sending Pheonyx off with Shane. Daryl wasn’t entirely certain about Pheonyx’s gender identity. He could just be a biological male with more feminine features. But he suspected the man was transgender. It was no issue to him, but he had a fair idea that it would be an issue to Deputy Douchebag. Shane wasn’t as openly hateful as Merle was, but he was judgmental and sexist. Merle was a loud hateful person. He screamed and hurled slurs, made threats but he rarely ever reached the point of violence, unless he was high. But Shane, his hate was a simmering cauldron, just on the cusp of boiling. Quiet little bubbles that could easily lead to an exploding pot. At the Quarry, the man kept camp duties fairly segregated in regards to gender. Women weren’t ever allowed on watch or runs, and were mostly kept to cleaning and cooking duties. Shane made the argument every time that the women weren’t trained and therefore would be liabilities. But he also refused to do gun training for anyone, citing lack of ammo as the reasoning. He didn’t go on long winded rants like Merle did. He chose sly comments and verbal digs as his weapons of choice. Offhand comments about “women’s work” and snorts when Andrea offered help with watches or runs. While Shane had never specifically said anything about LGBT people, Daryl just had a feeling that the man’s views would not be friendly. And with his suspicions regarding Otis’s untimely death, Daryl refused to put Pheonyx in the possible firing lane. Why he cared so much about a man he just met was something he was trying to avoid thinking about.

Despite his personal preferences of working alone, and avoiding any more contact with Pheonyx to quell the feelings building in his chest, Daryl had to admit that having a scent tracking dog would give them a leg up in finding Sophia. Looking down at the dog, he had to contain a snort. The pup was on his back, body curled around, chewing on his back leg like it was a rawhide. He met Pheonyx’s gaze.

“That mutt is a tracker? He don’t look like he’s got much goin’ on behind those eyes.”

Pheonyx’s eyes drew together in confusion and he looked down at Kismet. Daryl noted a blush spreading across his tan cheeks when he realized what the dog was doing. At the sheepish look, he couldn’t contain his snort, and he heard Rick chuckle along beside him.

The younger man nudged the dog with his boot, causing him to roll over into a regular down position. Daryl heard him mutter something unintelligible. Pheonyx stood firm though, the conviction in his expression settling in Daryl’s chest.

“Okay, Kismet may not be the brightest crayon in the box, I’ll admit. But when he’s got a job he works hard. Unfortunately, you guys don’t have the luxury of shopping for a certified dog. I stand by him though. We’ve only tracked wildlife so far, but I would bet my life on this ‘mutt’”

Despite the voice in his brain telling him it was a bad idea, Daryl nodded his agreement to work with him and the dog. His heart sped up a bit at the thought of working closely with Pheonyx, but he brushed it off. He’d work with him to find Sophia. Then that was it. He’d back off and these intense feelings would fade.

He hoped.

Masterlist

Taglist: @yoongibaybee, @edgyboi10000

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x oc #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x trans!reader #the walking dead #fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x trans!oc #daryl dixon x oc #daryl x omc #daryl x ftm oc #daryl x male oc

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theyraylovehate · 1 year

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Wheel of Fan Fiction Masterlist

Smut 🔥

Fluff 🌸

Angst 💧

*This is like brand new so most of the characters won't have anything just yet*

•Stranger things

-Billy Hargrove

-Steve Harrington

-Eddie Munson

-Robin Buckley (Fem/NB only)

-Argyle

-Johnathan Byers

-Nancy Wheeler

-Jim Hopper

-Joyce Byers

-001/Henry

-Will Byers (No smut)

-Mike Wheeler (No smut)

-Max Mayfield (No smut)

Hateful Cuddling - Female reader 🌸

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-Eleven (Jane) Hopper (No smut)

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Friendly Love - Male reader 🌸

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Zip line of Love - Nonbinary Reader (Requested) 🌸

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•The Walking Dead

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•The Walking Dead Game

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IT (2017)

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138 notes · View notes

frenziedslashers · 1 year

Note

(Thank you for answering my ask. :) You’re very kind. I’ll try not to let my scattered thoughts get carried away, lol! If you have any questions or anything, please let me know!)

So, what I’m thinking is… Since I’m low-key kinda tired of seeing all these survivor type readers, I’d like to see an extremely terrified, skittish, and introverted reader. A reader who is weak. A reader who is deathly afraid of zombies & people, for very personal reasons… I was thinking of some idea like this: Daryl encounters the trans dude reader by chance. He might hear some muffled crying in the trees outside Alexandria, and see a small pack of the undead clawing at something beyond their reach. It’s that guy. His body is frail, his limbs look like they could snap in half with just a touch. The smell of ganja wafting from him like sea waves. One thing interesting about the dude, besides the permanent drug scent, is that he’s carrying around a duffel bag filled to the brim with CD’s, and a dinky CD player. Joints & vapes shoved deep into the pockets of the worn bag. Maybe something about the reader might spark a tiny amount of interest in Dixon? Maybe there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to the newcomer of the group? Maybe him and Daryl bond over similar tastes in music? Reader is antisocial as all get-out, but he is never snappy when spoken to. His voice is as quiet as wind whispering through the trees, so it’s difficult for others to hear him properly, and they’d have to ask him to repeat himself a couple times.

(I’m sorry, I’m not the best with describing what I want… 🥲 I’ll try to summarize down here:)

Daryl encounters a stoned, scared as shit trans reader who is stuck in a tree, outside Alexandria’s walls, and the others invite him in. Him & Dixon bond over similar life experiences and music? You can do what you want to with the rest. :) I’d love this short story to be filled to the brim with fluff! And slow burn would be amazing, too. Daryl & reader slowly getting used to each other & other people. And then that turns into something neither one of them would’ve expected: Love. <3

You Know You're Right;;

A/N: Yes! Of course! And thank you so much for this ask, I love this idea so much you have no idea 😭 I have been wanting to write a fic like this for a while but couldn't come up with a solid idea (the thought was there, but not a plan if that makes sense?) So this made me so happy when you sent it in, thank you 🫶

Pairing: Daryl x Transmasc!Reader

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Daryl gets a little snappy and rude but warms up, possibly ooc Daryl?, Drug usage (Marijuana), making out - nothing more, Daryl gets a tad bit sappy because I say so, let me know if I need to add more!

The growling only seemed to get louder with each passing second. Moans and groans that drove the hunter wild. Rick asked him to stay put, telling him 'They'll pass, they always do.' But he couldn't. Not when they seemed to be after something in the building right beside the gate. Who was to say they wouldn't draw in more? Even if it was just a damn cat they were after, Daryl was tired of it.

He opened the gate with the help of Rosita. The girl offered to come out with him, but he only waved her off. "Jus' five of 'em. Ain't nothin' I never took by m'self." He grumbled, and she sighed with a nod. She had Tara on the post that gave her leverage above the wall. Just in case things went south and Daryl needed the backup. She wasn't stupid, she knew Daryl wouldn't accept her help. She also knew Daryl wasn't doing this for Alexandria. He was doing it for himself, to get out and use his skills so he didn't feel so damn useless. She got it, she really did.

The hunter let out a sharp whistle. Daryl watched as the dead slowly turned in order to see where the noise came from. Snarling and chomping at the man as he just smirked. His hair rose on his arms while he cocked his bow back. Aiming, then firing.

Killing the dead gave him this sort of thrill. It made him feel more alive. Reminded him that he wasn't one of them and he was still breathing.

When they got too close to where he stood. His bow was slung over his shoulder with an amused hum. Knife in his hand while he held his other arm out in order to shove them away if they did happen to get too close to him. "Bring it," he dared before moving with quick and swift motions.

He drove the knife into the skull of the closest walker. Shoving its limp corpse back into the other and watching as it fell. He finished off the last one standing before stomping on the fallen one that lay beneath the other dead one. Brain matter splattered out onto the pavement below his boot. A loud crunch was heard, and soon, it was quiet again. Until he heard a soft sob from inside that damned building.

Daryl hadn't expected this to become a rescue mission. Hell, he had half a mind to leave whoever it was in there to find their way back inside the walls. It was probably one of the damn kids that liked wandering out to screw around anyways, but he wasn't like that. He was soft, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"Hey," he called out. His voice was gruff as he pushed through the door after twisting the handle. "Hey, who's in here?" He questioned, holding his bow up to his eye as he scanned the room. Turning in sharp and stiff motions to be sure he wasn't walking into a trap. Or that there weren't any more dead wandering about.

"Here," the voice was so soft and meek. It was as quiet as a mouse, and he swore if there were any more dead outside moaning and groaning he would have never heard it. The soft and timid voice that came from under the table.

"Come out," he ordered, and when you didn't he sighed, lowering his bow. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, there ain't no more walkers." His voice made your breath shake. Your eyes fell shut before you slowly crawled out from under the table. Standing to your feet with wobbly and weak legs. Your backpack still strapped to your shoulders. "Please, don't hurt me, I.." you took a deep gulp, another shaky breath leaving your lips. "I don't have anything valuable. I promise," you insisted before opening your eyes to meet Daryl's.

You were so scrawny, and shaky, and he swore he could smell the weed from the door. Seeing the way your eyes looked he knew it was from you, too. He wasn't stupid. Even though he hadn't smoked or been around bud in forever, he still knew what it smelt like. That wasn't a smell he could just forget when it was the core of so many memories of his own. Memories of Merle, when they both would smoke a bowl and just chill. Or when he'd sneak out of the house with a joint he stole out of Merle's stash to just relax and get away from it all. He knew. It was almost nostalgic for the man.

"Ya ain't from here," he verified, hardly paying any mind to what you said prior. You shook your head frantically, and he nodded. "Ever killed any of the dead?" You shook your head, 'no', again, and he nodded once more. "How're you alive then?" He objected, and you shrugged.

Truthfully, you didn't even know. Half the nights you'd hide in closets of homes and smoke the weed or nicotine you'd find stashed in houses. Or just sleep the days away. That's what you were doing here. Looking for a stash that was never there and you happened to get yourself caught. Daryl was the only reason you were standing.

"Ever killed any of the livin'?" He asked, and as he assumed, you shook your head again. He only hummed in response. Studying you closely with his squinted gaze. From what he could tell you were anything but a threat. You were a stoner trying to survive the damn apocalypse. Weren't much of a talker, either. Not that he minded much, it was nice finding a straggler who wasn't about to tell him a hundred reasons as to why he should spare him. Daryl couldn't stand people who didn't shut up. At least, people he didn't know who wouldn't shut up.

"Come on, let's get ya inside. We got some food and water, ya look like yer about t'pass out." He muttered, motioning for you to head out the door first. Sure, you didn't seem like a threat, but he wasn't taking any chances either.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Staring at the man before you who could very well end this all for you. You were too scared to respond verbally to any of his questions. Too anxious that you might say the wrong thing or sound too harsh for some reason and he'd shoot you then and there. It wasn't until he offered shelter, food, and water that you finally let your shoulders relax. A deep sigh passed your lips as you lowered your hands that you had risen to show you meant no harm to the scruffy-looking man.

"Thank you," you uttered, voice still as timid as before. "Don't mention it," was all he grumbled before following after you.

You shifted from foot to foot once you were inside the gates. Two women were standing before you and you swore you could crumble away just from their questioning and judging gazes. "Is that weed on him?" the one girl asked with narrowed eyes, and Daryl shrugged. "Can ya blame 'em? It's fuckin' hell out there," Daryl snapped, and Rosita only shrugged. "I guess," she groused, taking note of the glare in Daryls' eye when she questioned you. He was good at being protective over the people he'd bring home. Especially the scared ones. She never understood why, no one did. There was a lot about Daryl that no one could decode.

"Come on, this way," Daryl motioned for you to follow him, and you nodded. "Wait, do they have any weapons?" the other girl asked, and Daryl stopped. Turning back to look at you with a questioning gaze. You looked just as scared as before, and he pursed his lips with a sympathetic gaze. "Well?" He asked, and you reached into your pocket. Handing him a small knife. "I uh.. I don't use it much. Just to open cans, really." You spoke, your voice shaky, and he nodded. Taking it from you with a nod. "I'll give it back when we know we can trust ya." You nodded in understanding. Truthfully, he could keep it and you wouldn't care. Being here was more than a fair trade for the shitty pocket knife you found in a house when this all started.

"I'm Tara," the girl who asked about the weapons spoke, and you offered a shy smile. Stammering out your name while offering an awkward wave. Daryl couldn't help but stare while he watched you introduce yourself. Storing your name deep in his mind. "This is Rosita," the other girl offered a smile and wave, which you returned with a soft 'hi.' "And, I'm sure he didn't introduce himself, he's pretty good at that. This is Daryl," Tara told you while motioning to your savior.

The way you stared up at him with that soft and thankful smile did something to him. He hardly knew you and he felt this need to keep you safe. Like he was put on this earth to find you one day and save you from those walkers and protect you from the world around you. "Hi, Daryl," he nodded, his eyes fixating on the ground before looking back up at you. "Hey." his own voice was rather bashful this time, and both Rosita and Tara watched the man with curious gazes. Something was going on inside that head of his, and it made them both smile, just a little.

Daryl was quick to drive away the awkwardness that followed after he greeted you back. The silence was driving him wild, and he was directing you back toward the house he was originally going to take you to. The whole walk there was just as quiet though, but he'd take it over the look the two women were giving him after he said 'hey' back to you. It wasn't like he said anything weird. The situation was just weird.

"Is weed not allowed here?" You blurted, and Daryl looked over at you with furrowed brows. Watching as you wrung your hands together and kept your gaze forward. "What? No. Just... No one here really does it. Ain't gonna get kicked out over it," He told you, and you sighed. "All right. I got a little scared when Rosita?" You looked at him for assurance that you said her name right, and only continued when he nodded. "Questioned me about it," He shook his head with a sigh. "She just doesn't know how to mind 'er own damn business," you lowered your head, smiling faintly at what he said.

It wasn't until the both of you were closer to the house that you spoke again. Going over what you wanted to say over and over before you got the courage to say it. "If you smoke, or uh... Want to, I could share. It's the only way I could really pay you back for saving me." He snorted a bit at that, reaching up to scratch at his chin before pushing the door to a house open. "Ain't gotta do that," you shrugged, "well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind." He was definitely going to remember that.

-----

Weeks went by, and Daryl was there to get you settled in. He was there sticking up for you when Rick questioned why he let a stranger in behind the walls after everything that's happened. Daryl saw something in you. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was something. Whether it be that he thought you could be useful. Or that he saw part of the scared boy that Daryl used to be before he built up his walls. Walls that were now so high he swore not even the sun itself could peak behind them.

He did end up taking up that offer with you, too. In the five weeks you've been with them it became a ritual between the both of you, even. He'd meet you at the field close to the back of the walls, and you'd both share a joint.

The first night Daryl was almost too scared to ask if he could take up that offer. It was day seven of you being behind the walls. The two of you had gotten closer, but Daryl wasn't sure you were both close enough for him to be smoking your weed. Even if you had offered it up, he was still in doubt. If it weren't for the way you smiled at him and greeted him with those welcoming eyes he probably wouldn't have asked. You were so bashful with everyone else, hell, even afraid of some. Yet, you seemed so comfortable around him, even if you were still as timid as a mouse. He didn't understand why. Daryl was anything but welcoming, yet you seemed to like his company more than anyone else.

That night he met you outside the house on the street. There was a chill to the air that nipped at your skin, and he could tell you were a little cold by the way you'd shudder here or there. "Let's walk," he rasped, hoping the movement would keep you warm. He let you take the first hit and took the drug from your fingers before bringing it up to his own lips to inhale.

It had been so long since he'd smoked marijuana. His throat burned once the smoke drifted through it to his lungs. Offering the joint back to you while he held it in for as long as he could, before finally coughing it all out. "Holy shit, ain't smoked this shit in forever," he spoke while continuing his coughing fit, and you only snickered. Offering a bottle of water that he gladly took from you. Practically ripping the cap off before taking a swig with a groan.

Your eyes were glued to him the whole time. You finally felt like you found a person you could truly trust. A person that you didn't have to be scared of. Whether it be fear of them leaving, or fear of them hurting you. He seemed genuine, and you only hoped your judgment was right.

The weed didn't seem to make him any more talkative than before at first, but you did notice he seemed less tense. His shoulders seemed to roll forward a little, and his steps were a bit more sluggish. The crease in his brow was practically gone, and his eyes were on the sky.

"You ever think about if there's any other Earth's out there?" you asked as the both of you walked aimlessly through town, and he shrugged. "No, guess not," you smiled gently at his words, "I do, I always wonder if it's like our Earth. Like, where we're all there, but it's just, different." "Like we're there, but we got different lives?" He asked, looking over at you, watching as your smile grew and you nodded. "Yeah, exactly!" you hummed, and he nodded, staring for a moment longer, before reaching out with his hand to nudge your own.

He didn't grab your hand though, he was quick to pull his back to his side. He only wanted your attention. "Follow me, I know a place we could sit." You smiled at his words and complied. Following like a puppy beside the man you grew to trust.

"What d'ya thank you on another earth is like?" Daryl asked, hoping you would talk more about this intriguing conversation. Truthfully, he just wanted to hear your voice more. "Well, I'd like to think I'd have my shit together," you chuckled, and he nodded, "I could smoke to that," he added while snatching the bud from between your fingers. A grunt slipped past his lips as he sunk to the ground. Taking the butt of the joint between his lips before inhaling.

You watched with a grin as he sunk to the meadowy ground. Your eyes watched as he lay down on the earth floor and looked up at you. He was something else. A man you wished you had met a lot sooner. "Ya just gonna stare or lay down with me?" He asked, and you felt your face heat up. Dropping to the ground in order to lie beside him. Keeping a distance between the both of you in order to not make it weird.

"I'd like to think the other me was a lot braver than I am, too," you muttered. Your eyes met Daryl's when you heard him shift to look over at you. "You are brave," he spoke, and you swore he sounded offended. You would have laughed at him if it weren't for how genuine his eyes looked. "If you weren't brave, ya wouldn't be here," Daryl spoke, and you shook your head, finally letting out a soft chuckle. "But I'm not brave. All I ever did was run. I've never even killed one of those things. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead right now. You said it yourself, 'how are you even still alive?' I don't even know, Daryl. I just am, not because I'm brave. Just because..." You paused, staring up at the night sky with teary eyes. Your chest rose and fell a little faster than before. "Because you fought," he spoke, reaching over to pass the drug back to you. "You may not've killed any, but ya survived. That takes guts. Y'ain't gotta kill to be brave." He told you, and you chuckled. "That's easy for you to say." And that was the end of that conversation.

Daryl didn't say a lot after that. His eyes focus on the stars above you both. He'd point at a few, asking if you thought they might be the other earth or not. You weren't sure why, but a particularly small star you had a feeling was that other earth. Pointing it out to the man with a smile. "I think it's that one. Right at the end of the Little Dipper." He snorted, and you looked over at him just in time to see him smile. An occurrence you learned fast was rare, and you cherished it. "Imagine if it was," he hummed, waving at the sky before his smile faded and his gaze turned cold.

Everything hit Daryl like a bag of bricks to the face. Everyone he ever loved who he lost. Ripped from him by whatever sick force took them from him. Merle, Dale, Amy, Sophia, Hershel, Glenn, Beth, everyone. If this other Earth was a thing, were they still there? Were they all alive and happy? Did Daryl get to meet any of them besides his brother? Did he still get beaten by his father in that life?

You watched as he scowled up at the sky. His jaw clenched, and you frowned. Wondering, but too scared to ask what was going on inside that mind of his. "I hope you saved me there, too." You spoke softly, watching his eyes dart around when he seemed to come back from his thoughts. His head turned to look over at you. Blinking a few times before his eyes completely softened. "I know I did."

That night was one of your favorite memories, and his as well. It was the night that seemed to bring you both closer. It gave you both a way to hang out. That only tightened your bond with one another.

-----

"Daryl," you called out when you caught him walking down the street towards the gates. His crossbow was strung over his shoulder. "Where are you heading?" He turned his head to meet yours, watching as you quickened your pace to walk by him.

He stopped his walk to allow you to catch up with him, too. "I'm headin' t'Hilltop. Jesus and Maggie needed an extra hand. Why ya need somethin'?" He asked with a curious gaze, and you shook your head.

A twinge of anxiety shot through you at the thought of him leaving you here by yourself, and he noticed it right away. "I ain't gonna be long. I'd offer to bring ya along, but I know ya don't really like leavin' the walls," he explained, and you nodded. He frowned when you didn't say anything.

You flinched ever so slightly when his hands grabbed your upper arms. His touch was soft and soothing though, a large contrast to how life had been treating you lately. "Hey, I ain't goin' nowhere. If ya wanna come ya're more than welcome. I got room on the bike. I always got room for ya," He told you, offering a lopsided grin, and you stared back at him as a smile of your own crept onto your face. If you told your past self you'd finally meet a man that didn't make your skin crawl when he touched you. A man that could ease away your worries with just a few simple words - he'd never believe you.

"I want to go, maybe I can help with what they need help with?" You spoke, a slight question to your voice, and he nodded with a hum. Giving your arms a light squeeze before pulling back. "'Ight, go pack a bag for a few days then, gonna be there for a bit," he added, shoving your shoulder lightly with his knuckles. Watching as you ran back for the house.

You held on tight the whole way to Hilltop. Your face was buried in his back while you clung your arms around his waist. Never in your life did you ever imagine you would end up on the back of a motorcycle, but here you were. With every bump and uneven patch of gravel Daryl hit, you'd cling a little harder to the man. Clenching your eyes and jaw shut. Praying to whatever God there was that he wouldn't crash his bike.

Daryl could tell you were panicking behind him, and he smiled a little. Reaching a hand down to hold over your hand when you would squeeze him tighter. Fingers rubbed over your arm and the backs of your hands to assure you that he wasn't about to let anything happen to you. He'd be damned if he was the reason you got hurt.

Once the bike was stopped inside the gate he practically had to pry your arms off of him. "Hey, ya can let go now," he spoke with an amused chuckle. "Ain't never been on a bike, have ya?" He concluded when you finally let him help you off the motorcycle. Nodding his head when you shook yours in response. "Well, I'll be sure to take a car next time ya come with me," he told you, reaching up to ruffle your hair before motioning for you to follow him.

Hilltop wasn't anything like you had imagined. Sure, the others had explained it to you, but it was so much more - farm-like. It was like all those video games you used to play on your phone to pass the time. The ones where you had the big fancy buildings and barns, with the crops that you harvested to sell and the animals you took care of for produce. It felt like a dream, really. It wasn't until you noticed all the people that you had never seen before that you finally felt that familiar fear and dread creep under your skin. Pushing the awe and nostalgic feelings away.

Daryl hadn't even thought of how you would react to all the new faces until he felt your hand slip into his. The action startled him, neither of you had ever really held hands before. His eyes darted down to look at your fingers that intertwined with his own. His fingers cautiously linked with your own. Giving your smaller hand a light squeeze while he brought his eyes up to look at you. Offering a soft smile when you looked at him. "I got ya, yer safe," he told you, and you nodded. You knew you were with him there, but hearing him say it out loud while squeezing your hand back only seemed to bring a wave of ease over you. It was like a blanket that wrapped snuggly around you, just that blanket was him.

Maggie greeted you both with a smile that could wash away anyone's worries. It was so sweet and kind, and it gave you this sense of hope that maybe more kind people existed in the world outside of Alexandria. "I'm so glad ya made it, Daryl," She had the same accent as Daryls, yet hers reminded you more of a farm girl. It had this cowgirl vibe to it that you couldn't quite explain, and it made you smile a little to yourself.

You watched as Daryl pulled his hand from yours briefly to greet her with a hug. He was quick to return to your side, his hand grabbing at yours again. He motioned to you with his head, introducing you to the woman as he introduced her to you.

"Nice to meet you," you muttered, offering your other hand to shake, but she ignored it. Smiling at you before pulling you in for a hug that definitely caught you by surprise. "Any friend of Daryl's is a friend of mine," she spoke before pulling away. She didn't want to assume that the both of you were dating, but she could tell that something was going on. Daryl wouldn't just hold anyone's hand.

"How about you show 'im around, Dar'? Jesus ain't back yet, I can come to get ya when he is." She offered with her kind smile, and the hunter beside you nodded. "Sure thing, Maggie, come on. I got somethin' to show ya anyways." He spoke to her and then you. Your eyes watching him with curiosity when he mentioned showing you something. Excitement coursed your veins at the thought of him showing you something - anything.

He led you off and away from the leader of the little community. The woman watching both of you with a fond gaze. She was glad Daryl was finally able to find someone in all of this. It was about time he finally opened himself up to someone.

Your eyes freely roamed as Daryl drug you through the town. You recognized a few of the faces. Tara was here, greeting you with a wave and a soft smile before Daryl pulled you along further. You even saw a few others who had stopped by Alexandria a time or two during your stay there.

"Where are we going?" You asked, and he glanced at you before motioning forward. "There," he grunted, and you sighed. Looking at the building that he led you to. "Are you finally leading me to my death?" You quipped with a soft laugh, and you noticed the corner of his lips tug into a small smile. "Nah, you're too fun," he shot back, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't have your heart soaring. Your eyes dart down with a shy smile that did not go unnoticed by the hunter.

Daryl knew what he was doing probably wouldn't be that exciting, but he hoped you would like it. He saw all those CD's that you had in that bag of yours and he had heard you talk about your favorite bands so many nights when the two of you would smoke or just talk. He hoped this would mean something to you. Even if he just got a smile and a 'thank you,' from you he'd appreciate it. He'd feel appreciated. Like maybe he was doing the right thing.

When he opened the door to the shared room he ushered you to sit on the bed. Taking the bag that was strapped over his shoulder and setting it on the dresser while he rummaged through it. His back was facing you, and blocking whatever he was doing. It had your palms sweating and your body trembling a little out of anxiety. What could he be grabbing? You couldn't even begin to imagine what he was about to pull out. Did he make you something? Find something on his last run that reminded him of you? Maybe he found a new pipe for you guys to use, or...

You stopped thinking when the first note hit your ears. Everything in you froze. Your heart stopped beating for a moment and you felt a wave of emotions wash over you like you were standing in the middle of the river. You carried those CDs with you everywhere in hopes that you could listen to them all again one day, and now the intro of one of your favorite songs, from one of your favorite albums was playing in the room with you.

Your hands clenched the blankets that you sat on top of and you felt this wave of gratitude, nostalgia, and so many more things overcome you. Tears were actually brimming in your eyes at how thankful you felt for the other man.

When he turned around, you didn't even give him time to speak. Your mouth beat him to whatever he was going to ask. "You listened?" You asked, astounded that he even listened to you when you rambled about the bands that you liked. The fact that he paid attention had you feeling so much more validation than you ever had in your life. No one had cared to ever listen to you when you go on your tangents.

He let out a nervous chuckle while nodding his head. His own anxieties had taken over the moment he started the song. Wondering if maybe you wouldn't appreciate the battery-operated CD player as much as he thought you would. "Yeah, 'course I listened. Why wouldn' I listen to ya?" He asked while shifting from foot to foot. His fingers fidgeted with the sides of his jeans before he brought his bag over to you on the bed.

The bed dipped as he sat beside you. Resting it between the both of you. "I remembered all the bands ya said ya liked, I took 'em from your bag and put 'em in here, hope that's 'right." He told you. Watching as you excitedly rummaged through it. Though a few CDs you didn't recognize.

You furrowed your brow when you pulled out a Johnny Cash CD, along with A KoRn and an Alice In Chains one that you hadn't owned prior. "Those 'r some of my favorites," He told you, and you felt your heart swell at the fact he was sharing his favorite bands with you.

Music always seemed to connect you with people more than anything else in the world. The way the songs could be played just put you in the mood for different events. Different songs to associate with different people. Not only that, but the music was the best way to learn about other people. For you, at least.

"You like Alice?" You asked with a grin and he nodded. "Yeah, I used t'listen t'Man in The Box all the time," he told you with a soft smile, and you felt like you were ascending. "Any other songs you like?" You asked, and he nodded. "Hurt by Johnny Cash, Ma used t'sing Merle and me that when I was li'l." He remembered while leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "Lots'a Nirvana songs 'r good. Dumb, Aneurysm, Negative Creep, School," He reminisced, eyes staring off at the floor. "Had m'hand full of CD collections before," he scrunched his nose at the memories that flashed before his eyes. "'fore m'dad broke 'em all." He spoke but was quick to continue. "Motorhead, Creed, Sabbath, R.E.M., had a bunch'a CDs I'd steal from stores or m'brother would get f'r me." He spoke, his voice growing quieter and quieter the longer he spoke about his past.

Every memory felt like a plague to Dixon. Even the good ones gave him this sense of unease and made him feel a little queasy. Thinking about his mom reminded him that she died in what he used to think was the worst way possible. The thought of his Dad made the scars on his back scream. It was almost like he could still feel the months' worth of aches and pain that they brought him. Even the thought of his brother made him want to crawl out of his skin.

Memories of Merle betraying him, even before all this started. He realized now that his big brother betrayed him when he was younger by leaving him with their abusive dad. When he would let his friends beat Daryl. When he'd drag Daryl into drug deals and buys gone wrong.

Now when he thought of Merle, he didn't even see what he used to look like. He saw those haunting dead eyes, and the blood that drooled from his mouth after he had eaten a man.

"I had this CD collection that took up an entire cabinet," you told him, and Daryl was thankful that you started talking. He couldn't spend another moment inside that head of his. "Used to listen to music every day. I had to, or else I'd think too much and go crazy, you know?" Daryl nodded at that, he knew exactly what you meant. "I'd either think too much, or everything would be so fucking quiet. I'd get scared because all I'd hear was static and I always needed something to fill that silence." It was Daryl's turn to look over at you now. Watching as you stared at the radio and rambled on.

After a while, Daryl was hardly even listening to you or the music that played in the room. He was too occupied watching you. The way your hands move while you spoke. How you would smile or frown depending on the mood of your sentence. Or even the way your brow would crease when you thought of how to word specific sentences. He was entranced by you. Everything you did was like magic to him. He could watch you talk all day, and he felt honored that you were comfortable enough to talk with him. He knew you weren't fond of social interaction. He was an introvert himself, plus it wasn't hard to notice how reserved you were. He was just happy you trusted him enough to talk this comfortably around him. Even if he still noticed his you fidgeted your hands and wet your lips constantly.

He didn't focus on your words again until you said his name. His eyes focused on yours with raised brows. It made you smile, you knew he had zoned out. It didn't bother you too much though since you were practically rambling about nothing and everything all at once.

"Thank you, Daryl," you repeated yourself, and he nodded. Sitting up so he could place his hands beside him on the bed. His fingers unintentionally sat right against yours, but he didn't dare move them away. "'Course," he muttered, but his voice sounded distant. Like he still wasn't entirely there and he was still thinking about something else.

He could feel the beat of his heart quicken in his chest when he got this crazy idea of kissing you that flashed through his mind. That was insane. He couldn't do that, he wasn't the type of guy to initiate something like that, but you sure as hell weren't either. He was fighting with his inner thoughts. One-half of him screamed for him to kiss you. To pull you against him and hold you close. To place his hand cautiously over your throat and feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch, but he didn't. He couldn't, not right now.

"We should listen to music and smoke later tonight." You told him, your palms growing clammy with the way he stared at you and had his fingers touching the tips of yours. You just needed to say something to break the silence that was practically killing you. "We should," he added, and you smiled.

----

On the upper floor of the barn was where you both decided to light up. He had found some weed on one of his runs and offered it to try tonight. He just hoped it was good and wasn't shit. It was hard telling, anymore. Not that they really had a lot of options.

"Got a light?" He asked, holding the joint between his lips, and you nodded. Flicking the lighter so the orange light glowed. Holding it up to the tip of the joint in order to light it for him. Daryl made a 'v' with his fingers beneath the rolled drug in case it happened to slip from his lips.

He inhaled and you watched with interested eyes. His own eyes locked on your face, bouncing from feature to feature until he had to blow the smoke out. Turning his head in order to not blow it in your face. You snatched the joint from his fingers before plopping down on the ground with a hum. Your legs dangling over the edge of the opening that led from inside the barn to the outside. It was like a giant window that allowed you both the ability to see the night sky. Clicking the play button on the radio before taking a hit from the joint yourself.

Daryl leaned back when the song started. A deep exhale left his nostrils before he laid his back on the floor. His feet lightly kicked with a soft smile. Taking another hit of the drug as you passed it back to him.

'Ain't found a way to kill me yet.'

Daryl soaked in the familiar lyrics while letting the drug slowly work its way into his system with each passing hit he would take. You could tell he was already getting high the more open and relaxed he got. "Ain't listened to this song in ages," He spoke into the night sky and you chuckled, finally allowing yourself to lay beside him. Just you were facing him, admiring him with the false sense of confidence that the marijuana seemed to be feeding you tonight.

You smiled wider when he closed his eyes and began muttering the lyrics to the both of you. "Yeah, we come to snuff the rooster," he mumbled, and you wondered if he even realized he was singing to the song. It was a moment you truly hoped you would never forget. Passing the joint between one another for the next song or two.

It wasn't until the next song started playing that you finally started singing with him. "I will never bother you, I will never promise to," you called out, and a lazy smile graced Daryls' lips. "I will never follow you, I will never bother you," he hummed out. "Never speak a word again, I will crawl away for good." You both sang and your eyes met. He was glad he had grabbed this CD. He read the first few songs someone had scribbled onto it with a sharpie and he knew they were all good, but he never imagined you'd both be singing them with each other. Sober him wouldn't be, but high, Daryl was always more open and in a way bubbly.

You both stopped singing the moment your eyes locked. Kurt Cobain's voice floated in the air around you, and the mood between you both seemed to shift dramatically. Daryl could feel the heat rising to his chest, and his thoughts were so fogged over that he hardly knew what he was doing until he was doing them. Thoughts so delayed that he didn't even feel like he was controlling his own mind.

His fingertips reached out to run over the side of your face. Daryl turned to his side to look you over with this look that called out to you. You felt like your face was burning where his fingers brushed against you and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

"Daryl," you spoke his name and his chest felt even tighter hearing you call out for him. He needed to be engulfed by you. To be inside you, but not in a sexual light. In more - an innocently intimate light. He didn't want to physically be inside you, but metaphorically. He didn't want to have sex, he just wanted to be consumed by every part of you. Your touch, your scent, your voice. He wanted you to hold him and he to hold you. To kiss you and feel just how soft your lips felt against his own. He wanted to be connected to you

Before he could even think over what he was doing. His body was drawn to yours like a magnet was attracted to its opposite. His hand was calloused, but his gentle touch was a big difference from the roughness of his fingers. His body scooted closer to yours, and you pulled yourself closer to him with the same eagerness. Even if neither of you really knew what was happening.

His nose bumped yours, and he felt his heart soar when you giggled at the action. His own laugh escaped his lips while he stared back into your eyes. "May I kiss ya?" He asked with his southern charm, and you nodded. You were practically putty in his hands, but he was even more so putty in yours when you reached up to brush some hair from his eyes. He damn near malfunctioned when your fingers brushed over his forehead and tucked the piece of hair behind his ear. He never knew how crazy you could drive him.

He finally gained control over his body again after focusing on the way you brushed his hair away. Leaning closer to close that gap between you both. His heart was loud in his ears. If it weren't for the fact that Chris Cornell was now singing in the background and he could still faintly hear him, he would have assumed that his eardrums had burst.

His hand came to the back of your head and pulled you closer to him. The kiss started soft and experimental, but Daryl was fast at deepening it. Hungry for more of it, more of you.

He was practically devouring you, his teeth were clashing with yours, and it had your head buzzing. Your hand knotted in the hair on the back of his head and he moaned into your mouth. A noise you had never imagined the stoic and stone-faced hunter was even capable of making. It surprised you, to say the least, and part of you wondered if you had imagined it.

Your free hand was quick to explore his arms, shoulders, and chest when he lifted himself from his side to scramble over you. One arm rested on the opposite side of your head while the other hand held the side of your face gently. You were like a couple of teenagers who had snuck out of the house to get high and make out, but this was far from either of your intentions from the beginning of the night.

Hell, both of you were convinced that neither of you would ever make a move even if you did both reciprocate the feelings. You were each so awkward and nervous. Daryl had experienced enough rejection in his life, and so had you.

When Daryl finally pulled away you were both fighting to catch your breaths. Daryl's eyes were dark. His pupils were blown and the blue of his eyes was hardly visible, especially when all either of you had for light was the moon outside that shone through the opening behind the both of you. Casting shadows over your body that Daryl swore made you look even more mysterious and handsome.

"Sorry," he muttered, he didn't even know what he was apologizing for, but it just came out. He had asked to kiss you and you said yes, but he felt like he got just a little too carried away there. You smiled, though, and it made his stomach fill with a fluttery zoo of butterflies. You made him feel things that he never thought he'd feel. He felt like he was in high school again, kissing the boy of his dreams and feeling all light and floaty. Just he wasn't, and you were both old enough to be parents to kids in high school, and high school was a thing of the past. He wished he had met you back in high school, hell. Maybe you would have been his reason to not drop out and actually get an education.

You cupped the sides of his face and his breathing staggered. His eyes fluttered shut while he let you pull him down in for another kiss. Everything felt so amplified, and he wondered if your lips were this addictive sober, too.

"Don't apologize, Daryl," you chuckled against his lips, and he nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled, and both of your eyes opened to look at each other. He hardly had a reaction, half-lidded, bloodshot eyes staring into yours, but you giggled. Your fit of giggles made him giggle as well. Another noise you had never thought to hear from the man above you. "Daryl you're too cute," you blurted, feeling your body heat up after realizing what you had said, but you were too out of it to react.

Daryl snorted lightly at the compliment, a pink dusting over his face. "Me cute? God, ya should see yerself," he cooed, leaning back in for another kiss which you happily accepted. Both of you hummed into each kiss you gave one another. Until Daryl's lips got curious, and they trailed down your jaw. He wanted to feel every part of you that you had to offer. One of his hands moved to rest on the other side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse. He felt how fast it was racing and that only seemed to excite Daryl more. His lips traveled further down until they were on your throat.

His lips had hardly brushed the skin of your neck and you felt it tingle with this familiar feeling that had your body flinching and jerking. A smile spread across your lips as his beard tickled against your skin. "Daryl," you squeaked while he unintentionally tickled your neck. "Daryl, stop it! That tickles!" He was a little panicked when he heard you tell him to stop, worried he overstepped the boundaries, but when you said it tickled? Oh, that was a reaction he was not expecting but was far from disappointed in hearing.

His lips attacked you, and your giggles turned into laughs. Your hands trying to shove and push him away from you. Your legs tried to scoot you away, but he had moved so he hovered above you and his other hand was on your hip keeping you still. His laughter was mixing with your own while he left sloppy kisses over your neck and shoulders. Your giggles caused his chest to swell. He swore it would burst open with how much adoration he had for you.

It wasn't until you pushed his face away from you that he stopped. His eyes met yours that were shedding tears from how hard you were laughing, and he smiled down at you with these eyes that you swore you'd never seen so much love in before. You wanted to pretend to be mad at him, hell you were a little upset. You weren't that fond of being tickled, but you couldn't help but smile back. You'd blame your lack of ability to stay mad at the man above you on the weed. When deep down you knew you just had the biggest soft spot in the world for Daryl Dixon. Your hero, your saint.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, brushing tears off it with a sigh. "Sorry, got carried away," he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. "Jus' love hearing' ya laugh, can't blame me," he grumbled, and you looked a little sheepish as you stared up at him. "I like hearing your laugh too, I don't get to hear it that much though." He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. His finger traced over your cheek and down to your chin. Watching intently. "Kinda hard t'laugh anymore," he sighed, and you nodded. "I get that," then it was silent again.

The CD has stopped a while ago. Neither of you really knew when it stopped, but neither of you really seemed to care either. Normally you hated the silence, but right now it felt so much different. Your senses were overwhelmed by the man that was now shifting to lay beside you. Your eyes grew heavy as you smiled fondly over at him. He noticed how sleepy you looked and took it upon himself to get you both back inside. It was too chilly to be sleeping out here with no blanket, and with the spring weather, there was no telling if it would start raining in the middle of the night or in the morning.

Daryl brought himself to his hands and knees, and you watched. He had to stay in that position for a moment while he steadied his vision. "shit, might'a smoked too much," he chuckled, and you chuckled back. "You're such a lightweight," you teased, and he shot you a playful look. "Hey, you just wait til I'm smokin' ya under the table, I used to smoke my big brother under the table," he snickered, and you rolled your eyes. Watching as he stood to his feet, but you had no motivation to move.

He extended his arm for you to grab, but you just stared up at him. He smirked, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon, boy, ain't gonna shit talk me then just lay there," he quipped, and you groaned. Grabbing his hand back while letting him pull you to your feet. It was like nothing to him, lifting you off the ground, and it made you wonder if he could just carry you to bed. Your wobbly legs seemed to ask the question for you though because before you knew it Daryl was sweeping you into his arms.

The yelp that you let out made him snicker, "Quiet, people are sleeping'," he joked, and you wrapped your arms snugly around his neck. "Oh, so you tickled me and had us both laughing, but you draw a line at me shouting because you picked me up while I'm high? Dick." you scoffed, and he rolled his eyes, reaching back to the ground to grab the stereo. His shoulder rested against a pillar for a second to gather his balance again. He was going to pass out the moment his head hit that pillow and he knew it. He walked you both back to your room, neither of you saying a word in the process.

Once you were in the bedroom, he set the stereo down on the end of the bed before lying you down. He was going to leave and head back to his own room. Leave you with your own bed, but when you grabbed his hand he stopped. His blue eyes stare down at you while tilting his head to the side with a questioning gaze. "Can you stay?" The corner of his lip tugged up when you asked that. His insides were bubbling and his heart was fighting against the restraints of his chest plate. "Yeah, scoot over," he hummed. If he was sober he'd have asked you if you were sure, but he was too stoned to even think about dragging himself down the hall to his own bed. Plus, it'd give him an excuse to actually hold you. It wasn't like you two weren't just eating each other's faces a moment before anyways.

You shifted over for the man. Daryl lying beside you after reaching down to untie his boots and then toe them off his feet. He stayed a distance from you, but that didn't last too long. Soon you were scooting back into his arms, the both of you holding each other incredibly close before you each relaxed. Even if you weren't the strongest thing, he felt so incredibly safe with your arms around him. Like nothing bad would ever happen to him again. You feel the same with his arms snug around your waist. "Night, Daryl," you muttered against his chest. A soft grunt left his lips since he was already pretty much asleep. Sleep took over you right after.

The next day Maggie had come to Daryl's door. Knocking since he hadn't been up already, worry taking over her at that fact. He was always up before everyone else. It seemed like the moment that sun was rising he was wide awake. Ready to take on the world and more. When there was no answer she called his name, peaking inside the door with furrowed brows. "Daryl?" She called, but no one was there. Maybe he went out on a hunt? Even with all the food they had in the communities, they'd always find him out getting squirrels and rabbits, the occasional deer here or there.

Before she landed on that decision though she went to check your room. Raising her hand to knock, but right as she did that door came swinging open. He was standing in the doorway and his brows shot up at the fact that she had caught him leaving your room so early. "Sleep well?" She asked with a knowing smile, and he felt his face go hot. "Slept fine," he muttered, and her smile was even wider at how bashful her friend got. The way his eyes darted to the side, and he seemed to block you from view with his body when she tip-toed to look over him to see you where she assumed you would be in bed. "You two do somethin?" She asked, and he scoffed. "No, ain't nun'a yer business if we did," She giggled, stepping back to allow him to exit the doorway and step into the hall. Daryl peeked behind himself to see you sleeping before he shut the door. "Are you guys...?" "Dammit Maggie, I came here to help you, not ya're damn twenty questions." He snarled while stomping down the hall, Maggie standing in place while watching the man with a grin. "Takin' that as a yes."

#Daryl Dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd

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slasher-male-wife · 2 years

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About me and request rules

Hey I'm Ziggy and this is my blog where I obsess over men and sometimes women. I use he/him and I'm 18. I really like fall stuff, vampires, Halloween in general, and my special interest is specifically horror movies. My favorite horror movie is Texas chainsaw massacre. My side account is @slashers-offical-boyfriend and my non fan fiction account is @living-dead-author. Below is the information on my request rules and info. Enjoy your stay <3

Master list Ao3 account Depop

Taken anons: 🦝🌾🎟🐾🫀🤡🐚🍼👻♠️ 13 🎸🦇🦌🐝 🦕🎨

Requests: open

Match ups: closed

Do not interact with me if you are

Homophobic

transphobic

racist

Are a proshipper

Just a republican in general

Ed blog

Under 16

Terf/Swerf

Match up rules

Specify the fandom you want and your gender preference.

Include things like hobbies, dream career, ideal parter, personality traits gender identity.

Feel free to include anything else you think is important.

Make them as long as you think they should be.

Will do

Fluff

Light or regular angst

head cannons

drabbles

fics

gore

hurt x comfort

x gn, male, trans masc and ftm reader

Autistic, depressed, anxious, etc reader (I won’t write about mental health issues/ mental illnesses unless I have it myself or I feel comfortable enough portraying it)

Darker topics like past mentions of abuse, sh, kidnapping, murder, etc all with proper trigger warnings

poly stories and head cannons (unless you tell me you want them to be poly I won’t write them as poly)

Slashers in a Dbd setting if they're actually in the game

Yandere characters (I think I know how to write one)

Iffy (Not common or might not write about depending on the request)

character x character

suicidal reader

Characters hurting reader on purpose

Recovering Ed related things

Heavy angst (More likely to be written with a happy ending)

Age regressing reader (Only if it's sfw)

x fem reader (Won't be very common for now unless it's essential to the fic)

I won’t do

sexual fics or head cannons

Child reader

pregnant reader

parent reader

Pro Ed related anything

Characters

Horror characters

Scream: Billy Loomis, Stu Macher

Black Christmas: Billy Lenz

Halloween: Michael Myers (og or rob zombie), Corey Cunningham

The Boy: Brahms Heelshire

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Nubbins Sawyer, Chop top Sawyer, Vanita "Stretch" Brock

House of wax: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Behind the mask: Leslie Vernon

House of 1000 corpses: Otis Driftwood, Baby Firefly

The Lost boys: David, Paul, Marko, Dwayne, Michael, Star

The Black phone: The Grabber/Albert Shaw

Spree: Kurt Kunkle

Friday the 13th: Jason Voorhees, Tommy Jarvis

Child's play: Tiffany Valentine

Re-animator: Herbert West, Dan Cain

Carrie: Carrie White

Saw: Amanda Young, Adam Faulkner, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm

Candy man: The Candy man/ Daniel Robitaille

31: Doomhead

Psycho: Norman Bates

My bloody valentine: Harry Warden

American psycho: Patrick Bateman

Hannibal nbc: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Near dark: Severen

Laid to rest: Jesse Cromeans

Martin: Martin Mathias

The Collector: Asa Emory/The Collector

Thanksgiving: Sheriff Eric Newlon

The Walking dead

Daryl Dixon

Rick Grimes

Negan Smith

Glenn Rhee

Maggie Rhee

Dead by Daylight

Danny Johnson/Ghostface

Pyramid head

Any slasher listed in the above section that is in dbd

Interview with the vampire 1995

Lestat De Lioncourt

Louis De Pointe Du Lac

Call of Duty

Phillip Graves

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

Misc. Characters

Johnathan Crane/Scarecrow (DC, based off Cillian Murphy portrayal)

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keep-it-dead · 2 years

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Welcome To: Informational Post

My pronouns are he/they, I'm 20 years old, I'm not really sure what else to say, but if you have questions feel free to ask. This is my Stranger Things blog, This is my Harry Potter blog, this is my Stray Kids blog, this is my Tomorrow x Together blog and this is my Ateez blog.

Rules for my blog

I only write for The Walking Dead

Requests are open

Inbox is open

16+ for smut

Any asks/requests that go against my rules and/or make me uncomfortable will be deleted

Only send requests in my asks, do not message me your request

Requests from women or fem aligned will be deleted

Women and Fem Aligned DO NOT INTERACT

Women and fem aligned will be blocked

Female reader blogs will be blocked

I will write

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Male reader

Gender neutral reader

Dom reader