one-shots:
sins and honey flavored sweetness đ â± âŸ
heartsease đ â±
a summer wasting đ
midnight refreshments đ
a new years surprise đ â±
lazy mornings đ
stay with me đ âŸ
too sweet â±
drabbles:
taste me â±
head w/ daryl đâ±
darylâs uncut â±
s4 daryl đ â± âŸ
cannock chase đ
the look of love đ
âł Scud Frohmeyer
one-shots:
take me however you want too â±
drabbles:
cockwarming w/ scud â±
scuds a slut (canonically) â±
âł My Edits
normy's bday
dhl
burn, burn, burn
new bottega
please send requests!
About Me!
em | 21 | gemini
hi everyone! this is so long awaited (iâm legit so lazy) but finally i have a masterlist/about me!
â°ââž my names emma, iâm obviously in love w daryl dixon/norman reedus. i love to write and make edits â u guys should totally follow my tiktok account @mrsemmadixon or otherwise known as scudslut;)
i met norman jdkskajajs at the nyc comic con 2023, he signed the back of my phone case, iâll actually die on a fucking hill. yes, heâs just as godly in person.
in my day to day life i work with animals 10 hours a day, they are my main passion aside from writing and whatnot, so if i post a photo of a really cute dog i met, thatâs why lmao.
i have 2 cats right now, my baby lily i got last year and sophie who iâve had since i was a kid. typically we rescue all our animals!
i deal with extreme anxiety and depression from a major accident that happened in my life a few years ago (so if i donât respond or have trouble posting sometimes⊠thatâs why and i really hope everyone understands.)
I love, love, love music. I play the piano and guitar, probably not very good but who cares. some of my all time favorite artists are.. and here we go on a rampage... deftones, cigsaftersex, wheezer, nirvana, mac, frank, lana, djo, catpower, the vines, dinosaur jr, labi siffre, the kills, tom odell, strokes, velvet underground, kendrick, norah jones, red hot chilies, the smiths, billy idol, the cure, no vacation, mazzy star, fleetwood, empire of the sun, pinegrove, otis redding, neil young, etta james, summer walker, motley crue, guns'n'roses, foo fighters, biggie, shady, nelly, jay-z, $uici$ide boys, gucci... and so much more, my music taste is actually bipolar.
on that note, i actually have a playlist for daryl + norman (music he reposts/i think heâd like) lmk if u want me so share them.
iâm canadian
my parents are both extreme alcoholics, so i suffer from a multitude of childhood traumas as well as current ones. we love it here!:) but id like to think i relate to daryl in some sense, if its the only comfort i get from it.
i could live off of pasta, watermelon and coffee alone
i spend my time either at my job, reading, writing, editing or spending time with some close friends.
and thatâs pretty much me!:)
please feel free to ask me questions or request fics, i will absolutely love to do them! (as long as they follow guidelines) if your unsure, just message me to clarify!
My Guidelines:
absolutely no rape/SA/even slight connotations of it.
no incest.
hitting, slapping, or any extreme violence during play, is a no.
age play - i will dabble in this but nothing major where reader is barely an adult. the most iâll do is early/mid 20âs and daryl is his canon age.
oh yes, and i will write for all norman reedus characters! if you want someone else, messsage/ask me!
does anyone else have a thing for darylâs pants in season 3/4?? like his belt and shoes too?
am i weird? or does anyone else go absolutely feral when they see it
wtf is it. like theyâre so worn in, so loose, the handkerchief that hangs out the pocket, iâm not even convinced he wears boxers AND IT MAKES IT SO MUCH HOTTER EHAT IS IT
he often wondered why he pushed it away for so long; this feeling.
sure, it consumed him⊠but looking at you it all just made sense. his world had a center, a beginning and an end, a breathing, living soul.
and it was you.
he felt foolish honestly, looking back, thinking he could tough it out, push it down, scare you away. but it was like trying to walk on water.
you terrified him; made his blood rush and his heart burn. before, when he was still trying to escape it, he can remember the way just looking at you would make him ache â this indescribable intensity of emotions that would nearly choke him â and it wasnât until he accepted his fate that he learned there could be an outlet.
he could pour it into you, whether it being as close as physically possible, or simple as giving you flowers he found and watching the bright smile glow across your face.
he didnât have let it crush him. he could breathe for you, with you, into you. he could try day in and day out to tie his soul to yours instead of pacing through the woods trying to outrun himself.
nothing would ever compare to you. the way you looked at him. it felt like seeing color for the first time. time stopped when your eyes caught his, everything clicked into place. you stared into his soul and and looked at him like he was the sun.
he would do anything for you, be anything.
for years he read about love like this, saw it in movies or in songs but he never really thought it could exist; that it could be his. it used to be weak to him, a worthless waste of time chasing after something that wasnât real.
how wrong he was.
it was in everything. in how your scent lingered on his clothes and the little notes heâd find hidden in his pockets. the scribbles in margins of your favourite books.
it was in him.
in every place you touched and kissed and loved. he looked at himself different now, strangely enough. heâd look at his eyes a second or two longer in the mirror, remembering all the compliments and heated glances you bestowed upon them. at his hands heâd hold yours with, how soft and warm yours would feel in his, how utterly perfect it fit and felt like it truly did belong there.
he still didnât feel as deserving as he should, but he couldnât help but think if you loved him, maybe he wasnât worthless after all.
a/n: đđ„Č hi guyssss this is somethin iâve had in the drafts for awhile and figured it would be best to post after my long ass hiatus since its short nâ sweet. hope u like, ive missed u all<33
oh i also have a lil france spicy fic in the works too hopefully itâll be finished soon!đ€
heheh would u guys want me too? Iâve had the urge to write so bad lately and legit have so many unfinished drafts, iâve just been gone so long and havenât written in forever idk why im nervousss lol
sorry iâm just thinking about going down on daryl and just fuckin showering him with praise and compliments.
the man would be so shocked at first, almost humiliated by the words coming from your mouth. âwould ya zip it?? sânot even true,â heâd rasp, eyes darting around as if to make sure no one heard in the empty bedroom, but nothing could hide the fact that his heart was racing, damn near exploding in his chest. his palms would sweat knowing what was in store each time, and secretly (itâs not even a secret at all) after a while he genuinely yearned for it.
for you to work that sweet, coma inducing magic on him all the while telling him how he was such a good boy for you. how he had the prettiest cock you had ever seen and god, how you wish you could do this for hours, how youâd never get used to the beautiful, strong man below you soaking up everything you had to offer.
heâd sputter and groan half audible obscenities as he felt your hands roam everywhere. any glorious skin you could touch had a comment to go with it, his arms being one of yours (and his) favourites, âso strong baby, god do you know how sexy these arms are?â
he couldnât answer.
not with you stroking him so intently, leaning down to lick long strips up his shaft making him buck unintentionally.
âyou got it baby, move those hips,â you soothed, praising every little sound and action he made, encouraging him because you knew he wouldnât do it himself. âdo whatever you want daryl. i want all of you.â
youâd kiss that special spot. the one right below his belly button, kissing and sucking the plush skin and trail of fine hairs there and he knew he was done for.
god was he done for, twitching and bucking erratically into your awaiting mouth, ây-yea?â heâd whimper. your words would effect him so much. so much so that shivers would run down his back and the air would leave his lungs, replaying each thing you had said about him as you took him so deeply.
and just as he was about to come, heâd stop you, âfuck, fuck, need ya, please. need ya tâfuck me,â heâd whine, grabbing at anything he could reach to get you up there, above him with your lips against his and lined up so you could sink right down where you belonged.
(ps thanks for the tag angie baby) (also sry girl i didnât know we were supposed to reblogđđ)
@yuenity @sceletaflores @kyletogaz @harpsinfinity @neoarchipelago @the-californicationist @mostly-imagines - this is lowkey humiliating bc I donât talk to many of u, but i love ur writing so⊠đ€ (also i did do seven⊠whoops)
fav color: oog probably a seafoam blue rn but. will always love love yellow
last song: cigarettes & alcohol - oasis
currently reading: just finished first reread of what moves the dead <3
currently watching: just finished house for the first time and i'm not ready for it to be over so i've been rewatching my fave eps
currently craving: pad thai..
coffee or tea: tea!
@hollowflight-propaganda @braincloggedwithcats @ignus-moth @stargirlshojo @britpop1990s @wingamy24 would like to know all of you better :) no pressure ofc
warnings - mentions and descriptions of violence and gore, mentions of racism (Merle), feelings of paranoia, profanity
idle hands
A man of few words often had little to say, but never had he truly been rendered speechless the way he was when you arrived at the quarry.
It wasnât your best of days, but you were captivating nonetheless. Even when it was littered with abrasions and bruises, your face was just so perfectly framed by the mess of unkempt hair, and even though your eyes were dressed in dark bags and layers of terror, they were brilliant. Simply put, you were a disaster of the most beautiful kind, and Daryl knew the moment he laid eyes on you that he was wading upstream, knee-deep in shitâs creek.
That was back in the beginning, when walking corpses and unimaginable gore were still new territories for most people. You were shaken up from the events that led you to this new group of people in the first place. Back then, you were more human; still affected so deeply by loss. Watching your family die left you vulnerable, malleable, terrified. With the constant threat of pain and death looming over you, your mind was sharper. Constantly balancing along that thin line between fight or flight.
That day, though â the day you met him â you discovered a new fear response: fawn.
The second your eyes befell him, you froze. Your pupils wide, gulping dryly in the Georgian sun, time came to a stop as you took in the site. There was something unsettling about him. He didnât just see you, he studied you. You could practically feel him soaking you in, memorizing every detail. You couldnât pinpoint exactly what it was about him that made you squirm. Maybe it was his narrow slits where his eyes should have been, tracking your movements, or his large frame reminding you just how weak you really were in a man-eat-man world.
Luckily for you, he didnât spend much time around camp. He was a hunter â fitting, you thought â and he was usually off in the trees somewhere.
Though, despite him being out of sight, he rarely left your mind at ease. His eyes left a lingering impression on your flesh. You could always feel the chill of his cool gaze tracing over you. As you worked around camp or tried to keep cool from the sun, you constantly glanced over at the forest in any direction. You felt as if heâd be standing there, watching you. You never saw him there at the edge of the woods like you anticipated, but you always wondered if he was still there, lurking deeper in the in the shadows, beyond your line of sight.
He quickly instilled a sense of paranoia in you. You always watched for him, always hoping heâd be there despite the sense of danger his presence alone caused you.
The others around the quarry began to worry for you. They noticed the way youâd shrink away when he walked past, they felt you physically recoil. The Dixons had a reputation. Whether it be back home where they wreaked havoc on the locals, or there at the quarry where those they terrified relied on them too much to get rid of them. They worried for someone like you, very clearly and quickly becoming the target of the younger, quieter Dixon.
You supposed it could have been worse â right? At least it wasnât the asshole cop with a fetish for widows, or the older Dixon spouting racist idiocy at the drop of a hat. All things considered, you were fed, clothed, and you even had your own tent. Comparatively speaking, you were probably better off than most people in Georgia, or, maybe even the entire USA. At least, thatâs what you told yourself.
âY/N.â Shane interrupted your thoughts. âYa got an extra pair of hands you could lend to the girls down by the water?â
You glanced down at the hands in question, folded idly on your lap as you rested for the first time in days. Since your arrival at camp, Shane had been very clear about having another mouth to feed, and how you needed to earn your keep. So, every day, you crawled out of your tent, stretched your aching muscles, and found a new task to occupy your time. Yesterday, it was sewing the holes in everyoneâs clothes. The day before, it was repairing fishing lines. Before that, gathering wood and boiling water. You had hoped today would be the day you got to take a break, just like everyone else got a day to rest every now and then. Hell, even the Dixons didnât hunt every single day.
âI guess.â You shrugged, groaning as you pushed yourself up to your feet and brushed the dust from your jeans.
âGuesswork ainât puttinâ food in your belly.â Shane retorted. âGo on now.â He concluded with a pat on your shoulder. You clenched your jaw as his hand made contact with your shirt, struggling to contain the scowl that begged to show.
Down by the water, the ladies were chatting casually, dunking garments in and out of the water as they did. All of the women were there, save for Lori, who conveniently managed to evade laundry duty every time. You wondered if it had anything to do with the previously mentioned asshole cop and his fetish for widows.
âShane sent you down?â Carol wondered, squinting up at you as she wiped sweat from her face.
âI told him we had it covered.â Andrea added.
âItâs okay.â You shrugged, sitting down on your knees at the edge of the water. âI had an extra pair of hands.â
âIdle hands are the devilâs instrument.â Jacqui said as she wrung out the shirt she had just washed.
âThat is what they say.â Carol agreed.
âPlease.â Andrea snorted. âThatâs just a saying some old men made up so we wouldnât play with ourselves.â
Everyone paused and looked at her then. She glanced around at everyone and shrugged.
âWhat?â She asked defensively. âIt only takes a few minutes to realize weâre better off doing it ourselves.â
You all snickered at that, finding little reason to argue.
âThat goes for a lot of things.â Jacqui said.
âYup. Laundry, dishes, dinner⊠If you want it done right, you do it yourself.â Carol commented.
As the ladies carried on with their domestic complaints of men being useless in just about every job description that doesnât include brute strength, your mind wandered elsewhere. Your eyes scanned over the water as you mindlessly scrubbed smelly jeans. Their voices became distant and distorted. Images of rotting teeth displayed behind your eyelids every time you blinked â tearing into your sisterâs flesh, ripping her apart, eating her alive. If you listened closely, you could hear her scream. You could see your dad reach out for her, arm stretching into the horde of death. You could see them grab him too. You could feel their cold fingers wrap around his arm and pull him in. You could smell their blood.
âY/N?â Amy snapped her fingers in front of your face. You blinked, realizing all five of them were watching you with worry. âYou okay?â
âYeah.â You nodded. âYeah, just⊠Tired.â You assured them.
âWell, no wonder.â Carol mumbled. âBeen here eight days and havenât taken not one break. You need rest.â
âShane wants me to earn my keep.â You reminded her.
âYouâve been earning it just fine.â She argued. âYou do more around here than he does for Peteâs sake. Just cause what we do doesnât look hard doesnât mean itâs not hard work.â
âPreaching to the choir.â Jacqui scoffed. âWomen have been saying that since the beginning of time. The men protect and hunt, we do everything else. Everything.â
Between the six of you â Carol, Jacqui, Amy, Andrea, Mrs.Morales, and you â the laundry only took about an hour. None of you were complaining, as youâd all seen it take a full day before with less hands on deck. For a small camp of people who had to leave behind everything theyâd ever worked toward, you all sure knew how to rack up some dirty laundry. Then again, with this heat, maybe you were glad that hygiene was still a priority.
You skipped lunch that day, as the pickings were slim as it was already and you figured the kids needed it more. You instead decided to retire to your tent for a quick nap before Shane came around again with some obscure task for you to complete.
Surprisingly, nobody bothered to wake you that afternoon, or that night. By the time you woke, most people were asleep. Someone had left you a tin can full of stew from dinner that night outside your tent. You figured it was Carol, as she was the most likely to care enough to do so. You scarfed down the cold leftovers viciously before you stumbled down to the quarry to wash up.
A lot of the women tended to bathe at the same time, as a way to look out for each other, but youâd overslept so youâd just have to make it quick.
Your clothes clung to your wet skin as you redressed yourself. You squeezed excess water out of your hair as you wandered back to camp. The night was quiet, except for Edâs snoring. You wondered how the walkers hadnât found you all here yet. You were sure his snores echoed all the way down to the city.
You took a seat on the steps of the RV, folding your hands together in your lap as you stared at the remaining embers of the campfire. It was a rule to keep flames low, even when it was cold. You sort of didnât mind. The glowing ashes resembled twinkling stars if you squinted hard enough.
Your thoughts began to take over as they often did while you remained fixated on the remnants of a dead fire. A distant rustling caught your ear. You struggled to adjust your eyes to the dark, scanning in the direction of the noise until two figures emerged from the trees. Quickly you realized it was Daryl, sneaking off into the woods in the middle of the night. You werenât sure if he noticed you there.
You wondered what he could have been doing. Surely hunting in the dark was no easy feat, so what was he up to? You glanced back down at your lap, where your hands sat idly, folded together.
âIdle hands are the devilâs instrument.â You whispered to yourself as you fingers twitched. You had a choice or make that night. Funny how those old sayings often rendered true. Had you not been sitting there with nothing else to do, maybe you wouldnât have made the decision you made. Maybe things would have been different.
his cutesy little choker screams mommy if thatâs anything to go byđ€·đŒââïž
and also just off the top of my head: his hair, him being a stoner, the way he says âpretty pleaseâ, him acting all tough but when it comes down to it heâs a little scaredy boy, his clothes, his voice, the way heâs such a little sub itâs not even funny, THE POWERPUFF GIRLS ARE U KIDDING ME, nerdy gamer boy, his entire personality and charisma, his cutesy smile when he has donuts, the 3way he was in, the supposed torso lighter he has,,,
