A bet is made between you and Daryl, but the run goes haywire and you both end up stuck in the middle of a hoard. You put your life in danger to get the two of you home and he’s furious - he’s not sure if he’s furious at himself for almost killing you, furious at you for thinking he’s worth dying for, or both. Soon, emotions run wild, a confession is made, and someone makes the most of their reward.
or
Daryl is a simp that doesn’t know how to handle feelings.
Tara and Heath had returned to Alexandria a few moments ago, beaming with pride as they announced their discovery of a locked pharmacy off the edge of some tiny town. Rick had nearly jumped with excitement at the opportunity to restock their dwindling infirmary, only to retreat back to his house at the behest of the setting sun. Night was falling soon, and darkness meant danger.
Perched on the Alexandrian watchpoint was Daryl who, on the other hand, audibly scoffed. A nearly untouched pharmacy? In this day and age? Impossible.
“What’s wrong?”
The familiar voice coming from next to him cut through his contemplation like it always had. A simple tilt of your head accompanied your question, and that action was enough for his heart to skip a beat. He grunted a response, trying to focus back on the watch duty he was supposed to be doing, but instead felt his body stiffen when your concerned eyes moved away from your gun’s sight and onto him. He brought his gaze up from the scope of his rifle, and let himself train them on you.
“Nothin’”
“It’s not nothin’, Daryl. Is there something wrong?”
An ever-so-slight smile leapt its way onto his face as he heard your attempt to imitate his accent - you were so damn cute. Stuttering his actions for a moment, he quickly hid his affection, desperate not to get caught doing something as stupid as pining over someone. But fuck, was he pining over you. And hard.
“Don’t remember climbin’ up here to talk about my feelings.”
It was your turn to scoff now - well, it was more of a chuckle, really. You were talking to Daryl Dixon after all, and everyone knows he’s always been such an open guy. It wasn’t your fault you had grown to care about him so much, and he certainly appreciated it more than he cared to confess.
“We don’t get off until nightfall, Dixon, so you might as well just tell me.”
Daryl let the gun fall across his stomach, knowing the strap would cut across his chest muscles a little too tight for comfort and he shook his bangs before stepping back a few steps, allowing himself to sneakily check you out as your eyes stayed forward, diligently keeping watch. His hands came in contact with his jeans, and he became embarrassingly conscious of how sweaty his palms had become; just from the thought of standing next to you for another hour. God, he had it bad for you. He knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to work on this little crush he had, and he knew it was even dumber to let his feelings go unknown, but he also knew how hard it was to love someone.
Daryl saw what that loss did to people.
“It’s just-”
He paused for a moment as the summer breeze travelled through your hair, framing your face in the sunset just right. Like a damn angel, he thought to himself. Daryl took in a sharp breath when you turned around and tucked some strands of your hair behind your ears, taking a second to admire the sight in front of him.
Fuck, he just wanted to live in this moment forever.
y’all things are actually serious here in Texas, tons of people are without power and temperatures are at record lows. it’s supposed to snow again tonight and a lot of people are stuck where they are with limited, if any, resources and food.
I’m linking a few mutual aids below, please consider donating if you’re able and/or share this!! if there are other orgs y’all know feel free to add them!
Houseless Organizing Coalition
Feed the People Dallas Mutual Aid
Kick The Cold - Austin Mutual Aid
Mutual Aid Houston
Southern Solidarity
Happy Valentine’s Day! I’ve been planning on doing the NSFW Alphabet for Daryl for a while, but I hope it makes up for my absence nonetheless. I’ve tried to keep it as in character as possible -- or at least true to my perceptions of his character. Please be warned that this has explicit sexual content. Other than that, enjoy! ♡
A for Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
After catching his breath, Daryl will pull you in close and ask you if you’re alright in that thick Southern drawl of his. You can tell how much he cares about you by the slight smile on his lips and the way he traces faint circles on your hip with his thumb. He never wants to let you go, but eventually he’ll get you both a drink and ask if you want something to eat. Sometime he’ll even help you get dressed or pull you into the shower. Daryl may not be the type of man to verbalise his affection, but he certainly shows it.
B for Body Part (of theirs and their partner)
Daryl doesn’t think particularly highly of himself when it comes to aesthetics, but he does like his arms. They’re toned. They’re strong. Not only can he keep you safe, make you feel like home is within his arms, but he can also hold you up effortlessly as he thrusts into you. Whether it’s against a wall or simply holding you up in the middle of a room with your thighs wrapped around his waist, there’s no chance he’ll drop you.
If he can’t choose your smile, he would choose your thighs. He loves the way they look and feel against his hands, the smooth supple skin and the curve of your ass. He often naps on your inner thigh as you read on the couch, using it as a pillow as he takes in the smell of your vanilla and peach body wash. What he loves the most, however, is the strength of them clasped around his head as he eats you out. He’d happily suffocate within them if it meant getting you off.
C is for Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
It takes a long time for him to feel comfortable coming undone inside of you. The fear of pregnancy aside, he thinks the world of you and nothing of himself. He doesn’t think you deserve filth like that, but little does he know -- you like his filth. The first time is an accident, but there’s no denying how good it feels and you soon join him in climax as if being filled with his cum is what pushed you over the edge. You kiss him over and over to let him know it’s okay, and from then on he finds it harder and harder to find the will to pull out.
Your cum, however, he can’t get enough of. Nothing riles him up like slipping his fingers into your jeans and feeling how slick you are. Your cum is liquid gold as far as he’s concerned, nothing short of a drug for him from the smell to the taste. Knowing that he can make you feel like that is intoxicating. He only ever wants to make you feel good, to feel wanted and needed and for you to whimper his name while he worships you between your legs.
D is for Dirty Secret
Daryl often fantasizes about fucking you on his motorcycle. He isn’t sure why, it may not even be particularly comfortable, he just knows it really gets him going. The only problem is that it’s so out in the open and anyone could catch you, but that’s not going to stop him if you’re willing to try.
E is for Experience (how experienced are they?)
Daryl is not particularly experienced. He hasn’t had sex since the world turned to shit and even prior to that it wasn’t something he obsessed over like his brother. When you first start sleeping together, he’s uncertain of himself and scared of hurting you but your gentle touch and sweet gaze are nothing short of loving. Thankfully, he is incredibly perceptive. His desire to please you drives him. He feels how your body reacts, listens to your whines and whimpers, and watches your face contort. You tell him what to do without even realising it and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t listen.
F is for Favourite Position
Any position where he can get as close to you as possible. He wants to feel every inch of you, your breasts against his chest, your hot breath against his shoulder, the scrape of your nails down his back. The closeness he desires fills a void inside of him. He wants to overwhelm him, he wants to hold you close and let the world around you disappear. He wants to hear you moan into his ear -- no -- against his mouth as he desperately kisses you to try and keep you quiet. Whether it’s missionary or from behind, as long as he can hold you in some way he’s happy.
G is for Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? or funny?)
Though he might laugh at your quips, Daryl generally takes sex quite seriously. He finds it incredibly vulnerable and to him it is ultimately a profession of love. Having said this, he can’t help but sometimes smirk to himself while getting you off.
H is for Hair (how well groomed are they? do they like body hair?)
You might have preferences regarding your own body hair but Daryl doesn’t care about how well groomed you are. It’s the Goddamn apocalypse -- who has the time to deal with all of that? As for himself, he might trim here and there out of uncertainty (he isn’t sure what you prefer) but that’s likely the extent of his grooming habits.
I is for Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Daryl is romantic without meaning to be -- he isn’t sure what romance is beyond a steak dinner and a bouquet of flowers and the world isn’t exactly built for that anymore. He loves to kiss you and hold you close and he often checks that you’re okay. Even during spontaneous or your more carnal fucks, he’s always conscious of your reactions and wants you to feel in control even if he’s the one taking the lead.
J is for Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)
It wasn’t often Daryl touched himself before you came along. Sometimes he did it just to release some tension rather than because he was horny. Prior to realising you reciprocate his feelings, he often lost himself in thought fantasizing about you only to get hard and frustrated. He thought about your lips, the way you might sound when you moaned his name, how your thighs would feel wrapped around his head or his waist. If he didn’t curse himself for being a pervert, he’d find himself touching himself late at night or in the shower. Now that you’re his, he doesn’t feel the need to masturbate at all.
K is for Kink
Daryl likes it when you pull at his hair. Something about the desperation of it and the sweet sting of his scalp only makes him thrust into you harder. Though he might not realise it himself, he also has a praise kink -- being told how good he makes you feel drives him over the edge. He wants to give you everything you desire and more and hearing you moan in approval only makes him fuck you harder.
He may be apprehensive about some of your kinks, especially if they involve hurting you, but you only have to explain to him that the way he feels when you pull his hair is how you feel when he spanks you and he’s suddenly willing to try. Other than that, he’s likely more than willing to oblige and partake in your kinks if it means pleasing you.
L is for Location
Daryl isn’t particularly picky about where you have sex. He just wants you to feel safe and comfortable. You often end up fucking on his couch, but there’s also been a couple of instances in the shower, once on Rick’s pool table, and plenty of times in the watch towers. You almost had sex in the chapel once, but Gabriel came in singing hymns and you couldn’t stop laughing.
Though he prioritises you above anything else, fucking you into the floor or even the ground outside really gets him going. It feels dirtier, primal even, like what God originally intended or some shit like that he can’t put into words. It feels like you and him against the world and that’s all he wants.
M is for Motivation (what turns them on/gets them going)
It doesn’t take much for you to turn him on, but he loves it when you initiate sex. The reassurance that you want him as much as he wants you is everything to him and he’s more than happy to oblige. He also loves it when you wander around in one of his shirts after a shower. It hangs off of your body like a dress and falls to the tops of your thighs so that when you bend he can see the curve of your ass. You know this, of course, and sometimes don’t wear underwear just to drive him that little bit more insane.
N is for NO (what they will not do)
Again, Daryl doesn’t want to hurt you and he certainly doesn’t want to disrespect you. He also won’t fuck you beyond the safety of settlement walls if he isn’t absolutely sure the pair of you are safe and cannot be see or heard.
O is for Oral (preferences, skills, etc)
It’s a long time before Daryl feels comfortable enough to let you go down on him which is primarily to do with his low opinion of himself. He already thinks he doesn’t deserve you, why would he think he deserves to experience you like that? He gets in his head, working himself up into believing you think you have to give him head when the reality is you want to.
Going down on you is Daryl’s favourite thing to do. At first he was a little uncertain, not because he didn’t want to do it but because he didn’t want to disappoint you. He enjoys every part of eating you out from trailing kisses down your body to feeling you writhe under him as he sucks on your clit. He often makes it his mission to make you climax before he can even think about fucking you so that he can feel you pulse against his mouth and lap up your cum like he’s been been without water for days. He’s obsessed with your pussy. He’s sure it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen -- besides your eyes and that sunshine smile of yours, at least.
P is for Pace
How hard or slow he fucks you depends on the moment and your moods. In the beginning he struggled with keeping a steady pace, but he has always prioritised making you climax first. You find that he is often passionate, sensual, and slow after a tough supply run, as if he’s trying to ground himself and find home within you. Other times, he likes to spend his time teasing you until you’re dripping wet and begging him to fuck you hard into the mattress.
Q is for Quickie (does he like them)
Daryl prefers a real opportunity to have sex over a quickie, but when the opportunity strikes he simply isn’t going to say no. Many of your quickies have occurred in the shower or in the pantry, but you’ve also been known to make use of the barn -- especially when you want the freedom to make a little noise.
R is for Risk (experimenting, taking risks, etc)
While Daryl is more than willing to experiment, the idea of getting caught by someone mortifies him. It’s too vulnerable and intimate. He’d likely lose his temper immediately if someone were to walk in on you two having sex, especially if they were in a position to see too much of you.
S is for Stamina
This depends on a number of things, like the mood Daryl is in and how his day went. Sometimes, he wants it to last because he’s trying to lose himself and find relief. Other times he simply wants to make you feel good for as long as possible, draw orgasm after orgasm out of that pretty mouth of yours. It isn’t often you have enough time in the day to get more than one round in, but when you do it tends to be filthy and carnal and he loves every second of it.
T is for Toys
Daryl has little to no experience with sex toys which means you’re the one who has to introduce them. He’d rather use his hands or his mouth instead of relying on a vibrator to get you off. Watching you get yourself off, however, is another matter entirely, especially when it’s him you’re fantasizing about and his name you’re whimpering as you fuck yourself in front of him.
V is for Volume
In his day to day life, Daryl isn’t particularly talkative and this doesn’t change much during sex -- especially in the beginning. He often swears and he certainly grunts and groans, but it’s only later on in your relationship when he’s more secure in himself that he finds himself encouraging you to cum as if making you tremble is what he was put on this Earth to do.
He loves to listen to you moan and whimper. The louder you are, the better, but since you have to be careful he’s also learned to love trying to keep you quiet so that you don’t get caught. He especially enjoys hearing you say his name and telling him how he makes you feel.
W is for Wildcard
Daryl isn’t into anything too extreme or unconventional when it comes to sex, however it surprises both of you how into ‘phone sex’ he is when you’re both apart and have no choice but to talk to each other over the radio. You initiated it as a joke, thinking he wouldn’t even try to entertain your nonsense, but he’s soon trying to keep himself from grunting down the walkey while asking you -- in so many words -- to tell him everything you’re thinking, doing, and wearing.
X is for X-Ray
It took a long time for Daryl to be comfortable being completely naked in front of you, though that’s more because of the scars on his back rather than his lack of self-confidence. You make him feel good, feel worthy, and he soon forgets how self-conscious he is when he’s with you.
Y is for Yearning (how high is their sex drive)
Daryl doesn’t have the highest sex drive, especially if you want to compare him to his brother, but it doesn’t take much for you to get him hard and desperate to be inside of you. You have a higher sex drive than he does, he might even tease you for it, but he’ll never complain when he gets to hold you close and show you how much you mean to him.
Z is for ZZZs (how fast do they fall asleep)
After sex, Daryl likes to talk to you for a little while or just take in the moment with you in his arms. You might not talk about anything of substance, but he enjoys the calm after the storm. He makes sure that you’re comfortable, holding you close and kissing the back of your neck before he allows himself to drift off to sleep.
hi everyone!! i just wanted to apologise for disappearing into the abyss. life got pretty overwhelming and i had to take a step back. being unemployed during a pandemic is no fun at all. ♥ i’ll hopefully get some new fics posted soon!! feel free to send me ideas or inspiration -- i would really appreciate it!!
I fuckinG love all your writing omg but in particular the Christmas ones it’s so good and slow burn ugh I love it. I was wondering if you have an overall taglist?? It’s fine if not I just don’t wanna miss a single one!!!
🥺🥺🥺 aaa thank you so much!! i can add you to the forever tag list if you want!! 💕
“So come here. Let me love those bruises out of you. We’ll love like children with a box of bandages- we won’t ask where it hurts. We’ll just kiss all of it.”
— Ashe Vernon, from “Robin’s egg heart(break)” (via drearydoll)
i have a couple of christmas ones i’m working on (yes one of them involves mistletoe before people hunt me down!!!) and i will likely do a part 2 to oblivious at some point hehe
Hi! Ive been keeping up with some of ur writing and i really like it! The way u manage to pull at my heart-strings? With nothing but a sentence? And im instantly hooked into spending a whole evening re-reading your writing? Iconic! There's honestly so much i enjoy in ur writing that idk where to even start with it, especially the most recent one u posted, but i wanted u to know that its really good! And i appreciate the time and effort put into it :) thank you! Youre very talented at what u do^^
hello!!! this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my writing!!! i am genuinely smiling so hard right now like this is... just so lovely and wonderful of you to say. it has truly made my night. i’m so glad you like my stories and thank you so much for supporting them 🥺🥺🥺
The reader shows Daryl Dixon that there’s still peace to be found in this world with soft words and delicate fingers.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Word Count: 2.1k (approximately)
Tags: sweet and soft with some humour n gloom, sfw
Notes: Anon requested a simple hair braiding fic and I had to be extra and turn it into an entire comfort fic. I’m not sorry.
@bakedcrispss @phoenixblack89 @btsiguess-kpop
Lanterns burnt low and the smell of sage and tobacco lingered in the air throughout the small but comfortable basement on the far side of Alexandria. In the middle of the room was a large sofa, plush with semi-clean clothes stacked up on one half while a sleepy Belgian Malinois lay on the other, still and complaisant.
Daryl Dixon, on the other hand, sat at his makeshift desk by the window. In one hand, a sharp dagger, the other an arrow he had been cutting away at for the past hour. His skin was pink and freckled and his hair damp, freshly showered after a gruelling day outside of the walls that ended in blood and tears.
Losing someone in the community was never easy. He almost felt he should have been thankful it wasn’t somebody he was particularly close to, but that shit hardly mattered since he and Rick had to go back and let the poor bastard’s wife know he wasn’t coming home.
He couldn’t bring himself to think about it now that he was back within the safety of Alexandria, not with all he had waiting for him there. He didn’t think he could cope with where his mind would take him, so instead he took to working with his hands — carving and cutting until his mind emptied and he didn’t have to think at all.
Eventually the stairs creaked and Daryl glowered to himself, figuring it would be Carol checking in on him again. He loved her, she was his best friend, but sometimes she just did too much. When the inevitable knock on wood came, he looked up ready to grunt in acknowledgment. Instead, his features softened, his chest heaving with relief.
It was you.
The corners of your mouth quirked into a sweet smile as you stepped through the doorway. He noticed it didn’t reach your eyes and he reached out to you, taking your hand and gently pulling you closer to him where he could wrap a muscular arm around the back of your thighs and look up at you with those crystalline blues.
You placed your arm around his shoulder, fingers immediately finding their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. You played with it absentmindedly, your sole focus on the man before you, eyes so full of curiosity and care.
“Now how is it you’re cleaner than I am?”
Daryl smirked in response and squeezed you lightly. You were certainly grubbier than he was, but he didn’t care one bit considering grubby was his default state. The old shirt you were wearing was torn at your midriff and it took him a moment to realise it was one of his. He pulled at the tear carefully, thankful only to find a graze rather than something worse.
“Yer back early.” He finally acknowledged.
You hummed in response, fingers now tenderly raking through the archer’s hair to reveal more of the gruff face you liked so much. You took in his features, tracing every scar and drawing together every freckle.
“Mich’ radioed through. Hilltop had one too many people to spare anyway.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, but didn’t question it. If Michonne wanted to grant him a little bit of peace after the day they’d had, who was he to say no? Besides, Hell itself would freeze over before he ever turned you away.
“I like you like this.” You continued, “All soft and warm.”
“Yeah?”
A year or so ago he would have resented being called soft. It was a fighting word, something his idiot brother would use to provoke him into doing something reckless, but when it came from your lips it felt like he was being awarded a Purple Heart.
Sure, you were talking about his shower fresh skin, but that didn't matter. You reminded him that he had been brave and let you in, that after years of being alone and afraid, he had earned the right to be soft.
Pulling away from his grip, your hands came to your belt buckle. You unfastened it and slowly shimmied out of the dark blue jeans that were stained with speckles of old Walker blood. That old shirt of Daryl’s you’d been wearing, tucked in at the waist, fell free halfway down your thighs.
“Like a damn dress on you, girl.”
You shot a playful scowl at him and sauntered towards the couch, moving the pile of clothes to another surface before collapsing onto the cushion with a grunt. Dog perked up and you scratched him behind the ears.
“Not like you to complain.” You sighed.
Watching you like this, comfortable and free, Daryl felt something building in his chest. It wasn’t panic. Maybe it was fear? He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he wanted to wrap himself up in you like you were wrapped up in his shirt. Anything to keep you close so he never had to worry about you not coming home.
“Weren’t complainin’.”
It was your turn to reach out to him, coax him over from his attempts of escape. You may have been exhausted, but losing anyone from the community was a nasty reminder of how fragile this life really was.
Daryl stood and mosied over. Dog was comfortable right where he was next to you, though Daryl wouldn’t try to get rid of him even if he wanted to. You shuffled up a bit, angling yourself against the inner corner before tugging on his forearm — a silent plea to give into you and just be. He spent so much of his time looking out for you, making sure you were okay that it also became a way of making himself feel better. You loved him for it, but you desperately wanted to take care of him too.
He finally sat. It was a start. You kept your fingers on his skin, your thumb caressing it gently and he turned his head to watch your hand at work. His eyes soon drifted to your legs. They were bruised but still strong and inviting. You pulled at him again and he finally met your gaze.
“I’m right here.” You assured him, “I’m not going anywhere.”
But you could. That was what was tearing him apart.
Daryl eventually nodded and shuffled up, taking your legs and placing them over his lap so that you were practically sitting on him but not quite. He loved the weight of you, loved you dressed in nothing but one of his old band shirts so that he could flex his hand against the warmth of your thighs. You were his anchor, keeping him from spiralling just by being right there in your arms.
With one arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, you used your free hand to trace the far side of his jaw with your thumb. He leaned into your touch and you sweetly kissed his shoulder before pulling him in closer to you, the hand behind his head now weaving into his hair again.
“Think Dog is getting jealous.”
A soft snort escaped him then, “I’d be jealous too.”
“Don’t need to be. You got me.”
He adjusted his position, allowing himself to lean into you a little bit more. You continued to play with his hair, twirling it between your fingers. The tension in his body slowly began to melt away, evident from the long exhale that drew from his lips.
“Still don’ know how the fuck tha’ happened.”
And that was the truth. To this day Daryl had no idea what you saw in him. You could tell him to his face -- in fact you had -- and he’d still question it. He’d grown up believing he was no good but even if that were the case then, again, who the fuck was he to deny you?
“The world works in mysterious ways Daryl Dixon.” A smirk tugged at your lips, “That and I had to make the first move.”
“Shuddup.” He retorted quickly, “Woulda’ done it eventually.”
It was your turn to laugh. Looking back on your journey together, it was honestly miraculous you’d ended up where you were at all. He was oblivious when it came to women and you weren’t exactly someone that was easy to pin down. Your affection for him snuck up on you, but once it hit you it did so with full force and you weren’t going to risk not knowing.
“I almost wish I’d waited now.”
“‘M glad ya’ didn’t.“ He confessed, squeezing your thigh with his calloused hand, “‘M glad you’re here.”
You pressed a kiss to his temple then wiggled, adjusting your position so that you could angle yourself against him comfortably. You could use both of your hands to play with his hair now. He didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t like it, because he did. He liked all of the attention you gave him.
“So, how would you have done it?”
“Dunno. Don’ matter now.” His brow quirked as he glanced at you, “I kissed ya first. Don’ that count for somethin’?”
Well, there was that. It was one of few times Daryl had truly caught you off guard. You were pissed off about something, wouldn’t stop going on and on at him even though it wasn’t his fault.
“In my defence, you kissed me to shut me up.”
“Worked didn’ it?”
“Haven’t gotten rid of me since.”
Delicate fingers had taken a few thin strands of his hair, tucking them one behind the other aimlessly to form a subtle braid as you both reminisced. You sometimes couldn’t believe how long his hair had gotten, but you quite liked it. You never took too much off when he let you cut it.
“Wouldn’t ever.” He mumbled shyly, “Ain’t gon’ get luckier than this.”
“Not sure I’d call it luck. Been through too damn much for the world not to pay it forward.” You truly believed your words as they spilled from your lips, “We deserve a bit of good. You deserve it.”
Whether he agreed or not, he wasn’t sure how to respond. If it were true, he had already gotten that little bit of good by finding you. He would be perfectly happy if that was all the good he ever got in this new world of blood and rot. He didn’t need anything more. He couldn’t help but wonder if you felt the same.
You were partially preoccupied, braiding his hair gently piece by piece and savouring the sweet moment between you both. His hand caressed your thigh, traced circles with his fingers while you leaned into each other’s touch. It set your skin aflame, poked coals in the pit in your stomach, but you pushed that feeling down until when or if he pulled you in.
Truthfully, you didn’t think much about the future anymore. You couldn’t afford to. It put you on edge, made you panic and do stupid things. It was easier to live in the moment and appreciate what you had, and waking up to Daryl everyday was more than you ever expected to have when you were first taken in at Alexandria. Hell, you felt lucky to make a few friends after being on your own for so long.
You sighed happily as you combed out the loose braid with your fingers and began again, taking thicker pieces of clean dark hair. He smelled like your shampoo which tickled you a little, but you didn’t complain. It wasn’t like he was going to seek out his own. Piece by piece, the braid grew and you could feel him relax further, the circles he was drawing on your thigh growing slower. You bet that if you turned to look, his eyes had closed.
“The hell you doin’ girl?” He finally mumbled.
He always called you that. The way he said it made it feel like there was supposed to be a my in front of it. Sometimes if you were being especially irritating he’d slip a lil in there as if that was supposed to deter you, but it never did.
“Shhh. Stay still.” The response came with a soft chuckle.
As you finished another braid, you admired your work with a grin. His eyes flit open as if he knew you were up to something, brows soon furrowing as he looked at you. It wasn’t long until they relaxed, that smile of yours turning him into putty in your hands.
“Do I wanna know?”
“Do you wanna know I’ve been braiding your hair for the last… however long.” Your words were dry, bordering on teasing, “No, probably not.”
That infamous scowl of his tugged at his grizzly features, though there was no bark to his bite. You cupped his face, gently coaxing it towards you.
i find writing dialogue in daryl fics so fun and easy but filling up the spaces inbetween is a nightmare. anyways what i’m saying is i’m sorry i haven’t posted a fic in a few days!!! i am working on it :^(
