#awkward daryl

[normanthatisall]

When she has always been better at flirting than he has 😏🏹❤️

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Daryl had just jogged up the stairs in the cellblock and was surprised to find you sitting on the edge of his bed like you were waiting for him. He slowed, caught off guard, and watched as you stood up, your eyes fixed on him. “Hey,” he drawled. “I was wonderin’ where ya got to but—wasn’t expectin’ ya to be up here. Everybody else is still out in the yard ‘round the fire.” You nodded. “I know.” You gave him a long look and for some reason he felt like his skin was prickling with electricity. “Do you want me to leave?” you asked. He shifted nervously and shook his head vaguely, his heart pounding as he tried to figure out exactly what was going on here. “No. Not unless ya wanna...” he drawled, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. “I don’t,” you said softly.  Daryl gulped. “Is—everythin’ alrigh’?”

You nodded, and he watched one corner of your mouth curve up in a smile. “Yeah. Umm—I just wanted to ask you something.” “Alrigh’.” Why was his heart beating so fast?

Better just go for it. You’d waited up there so the two of you could be alone. “Do you have feelings for me?” He looked frozen for a moment. Stunned. “Because—because I have feelings for you. And I need to know if this is one sided and I’m imagining things or reading into things I shouldn’t be or—” “Ya ain’t,” he interrupted suddenly.  “Oh,” you said, grinning. “Good.” He ducked his head and nodded, but he couldn’t help smiling to himself. This was.... unexpected. “Ya were waitin’ up here for me just to ask that?” You nodded. “Mhm. And to do this...” You hurriedly crossed the space to him and hesitated just a moment, just long enough to take in the look in his blue eyes, before you crashed your lips into his. He kissed you back tentatively at first, like he was still a little unsure. But when you looped your arms around his neck and leaned into him it was like it kindled a need in him that he finally allowed himself to give in to... and he kissed you back hungrily.

Prompt: “Do you want me to leave?”

[beatleszeppelin]

You're A … Inexperienced Ch. 4

Chapter Summary: You spend every waking hour of the next day hoping for Daryl back, you don't know if you'll be mad, sad, scared or happy when he returns. But when you are notified of his return, and you find out he's hurt, things go a bit further, or should I say a base further?

Category: Friends to Lovers, Mild Smut, just a good ol’ time

Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)

Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut, swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter 4: I trust you.

“Carol,” You yelled getting her attention.

She smiled back, a sympathetic look, but endearing and all knowing. “I heard what happened last night with you two.”

“Did he tell you?” The inquiry slipped immediately from your lips.

“On his way out he did,” the corners of her mouth pulled back into a smile, and she patted your shoulder.

“Out?”

“Went on a run, early this morning. Daryl stopped and talked to Carl and I on his way out the gates.”

“What did he say happened,” You begged, wanting to know the true reason he’s left you high and dry last night.

“Not very much, most was implied.” She held her arm out, guiding you to a near by table. You both sat together, and pried on the other’s interactions with the elusive conversationalist.

From what you gathered, he left this morning in a hurry, and he left mad. Mad at himself for fucking it up with you, whatever he thought it was. He didn’t tell anyone what he was doing in detail, but he didn’t take much water and nearly no food. He should be back today, based on Carol and Carl’s sleuthing.

But the day went on, and lunch and dinner came and went, and he didn’t make an appearance through the gates. You took the day off from whatever tasks you were supposed to do at the farm, with the animals, and crops, to instead take over a full day of gate work. You didn’t read a book, or draw stupid little pictures in the margins of other peoples papers that were left. You looked out, on guard, watching the shadows change on the road ahead.

Sometime after the shadows left, and the ground turned fully dark, your eyes fell heavy from the lack of sleep you had been allowed the night before. So you turned in. Sleep didn’t come easily, thinking of Daryl out there, mad at himself. He could have run away, he could have left for good. He could be out there hurt, or worse. The thoughts wracked your head, until you woke up the next morning, you don’t remember falling asleep, but you must have sometime early this morning.

You got up and dressed with no effort, for maximum efficiency. The first place you hit was the gate, it was a shift change, so you spoke with Carol on her way in.

“Do you know anything, has he come back yet?”

“You haven’t seen him yet?” she asked as if his whereabouts were seemingly obvious.

“No, I didn’t even know he was back, where is he?” You begged.

“He showed up at the gates late last night. He’s in the infirmary, he got hurt on his run yesterday,” She said, without too much concern, but it didn’t stop you from walking to him, but she did add, “he’s fine, by the way,” while you were still in ear shot.

You walked to him, but by the time you noticed you were running. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling as you braced yourself to see Daryl in whatever state he may be in. You were mad at him for leaving, but happy about his return. Sad that he felt the need to leave in the first place, and scared about his injuries.

You opened the door to the infirmary, walked into the rows of cells and stark white bed sheets that have so regularly been changed. Your quick lope took you to Daryl’s cell, the one that you heard Hershel’s voice and quite grumbles coming from. His monotonous pained breathing served as a compass, guiding you directly to him, without any consideration to which direction your feet were moving.

You stood on the other side of the bars, seeing into his room much like he must have seen into yours just a few nights ago. Hershel was tending to bandages wrapped around Daryl’s abdomen. There was no blood, though. His bare chest was wrapped up, around his ribcage and over his shoulder. He lay on his side, another wrap encasing his knee, was propped up with a throw pillow someone must have retrieved on a run.

As he lay there looking up to you, you stand in the doorway, sorting through the files in your head of possible things you could say to him.

“Welp, I’ll be back to see you later, and remember to take it easy on your body. No strenuous activity.” Hershel picked up and saw himself out, patting you on the back as he left.

Seconds long pause lingered over the heads of both of you, but was broken when you simply asked, “What the fuck?”

“‘m sorry,” he tucked his chin down to his chest.

“I really don’t care if you’re sorry right now, I just want to know what you did, and maybe why?” You said genuinely.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you, an’ when I did, just thought I should leave, always better out there.” He mumbled.

“What do you mean hurt me? You thought you hurt me. Look at you, laying here all wrapped up,” You couldn’t fathom him leaving because he thought he did something wrong, when what hurt you most was the fact that he had left in the first place.

“I knew what you’d wanted, but it didn’t happen, an’ I thought you’d be mad about it.”

“No, I wasn’t mad about whatever happened while you were in my cell, I was mad about everything that happened after. I didn’t want you to leave.” You paused for a breath, “I thought you left because of something I did, and it turns out you did. And what did you mean what I wanted?”

“Well,” He raised his chin, and his eyes kept darting in between your and the floor. “You wanted to fix me, but you can’t change the unchangeable.”

You felt disheartened, his words hurt, not because what he was saying was with mal intent, but because this is what he genuinely thought. He thought that you wanted to sleep with him to fix him, to some how change this broken man that sit before you, but he couldn’t be more wrong. He wasn’t broken, not to you, not to anyone here but himself. “I don’t want you to change; I just don’t want you to have only bad memories.”

“What if we try again, an I still don’t like it?” He said, voice breaking.

“We only try when, or if you want to. I’m always down.” You said, finally walking into the cell, and siting on the stool Hershel was on before.

“And what if I never want to…”

You cut him off, “have sex?”

He raised his head, and then nodded slowly.

“Then, we’ll never have sex, and I will be happy being with you, because you are my friend, and I love you.”

He reached out and grabbed your hand from you lap. And he simply held on to it.

“I do have one more thing to ask of you,” he looked, “how did you get hurt?” His face turned red again, he cleared his throat. “Was out, on my bike. Just riding. I was mad, at myself, at the world, so I was going fast, yeah?” You nodded. “I saw a walker, I tried to stop, but I’s on a patch of sand, and I slid, and fell off.”

You laughed and shook your head, then you pulled your hand out of his for a second, and he subconsciously reached out for it again feeling the emptiness. You grabbed the blanket from his bed, and draped it over his his body, stopping just before the curve his waist. You were scared to touch his bandages, not knowing how much pain he was in. You sat back down, and took his hand in yours, and his shoulders visibly dropped at the connection. “So what did Hershel say?”

He brushed his hair down into his face with one hand, you quickly undid this gesture by pushing all of his hair back behind his ears. “He said I’ve got a dislocated knee, from where the bike fell on me, and I slipped a rib, probably from sliding.” You smiled at him, sympathetically, causing him to bashfully add, “t’s nothin’ bad though.”

Days later, maybe a week, when Daryl could walk (with assistance), you took him out on a makeshift date. You planned where you would take him, a field, outside the walls, with a pond right next to it.

You drove his bike, he sat behind you holding on to your waist, one leg bent, with his foot flat on the pegs, the other straight out, as to not bend his hurt knee. You rode around for a while, you thought he needed it, before circling back to where you wanted to take him. “This is it,” you said as you arrived to a flat spot of land, encompassed by weeds that danced in the wind.

“What’re we to be doing here,” he asked hobbling off of the bike, he’s normally so comfortable on.

You pulled a blanket and some bread and jam out of the saddle bags on the bike, that he was still leaning on, as a crutch. You laid it down. And set the food on top. Then you walked back about ten feet to where Daryl leaned, and slowly eased his arm over your shoulder, seeing as to not hurt his ribs. Then you helped him walk over to where you planned to spend the day with him. You dropped his arm, and it hit his side with a wince.

He held his side, and not so gracefully slid his leg out from him, so it wouldn’t catch any weight on his way to the ground.

“What does it feel like?” You gestured to his leg once he had hit the earth.

He shrugged, “Dunno, like it’s tight when bent, an’ hurts anytime ya put weight on it. Can’t use crutches neither, cause those’d hit ma ribs.”

“You really fucked yourself up didn’t you?”

Breathily, he laughed.

You ate, breaking bread with your hands and passing the jam jar between you. The pond

was enchanting, just as the lake that you bathed in before was. This was safe, though. It was close to the fence, and you each had weapons at the ready.

“Been thinkin’,” Daryl said, with a mouth full of bread.

“Yeah, what about?” he caught your attention with his tone.

“Said, we could try again, right?”

“Right.” you replied, instantly knowing what he was talking about.

“What if, I know… What if the part that I don’t want ta… ‘s there anythin’ else?” He said chewing on his lip to mumble through the words.

“What?” You said scrunching your nose up.

“The whole putin’ yer,” he mumbled so you didn’t catch all of the words, “jus doesn’t feel right.”

“So you’re talking about trying stuff up until the second or third base, not going all the way?” You asked trying to understand.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

You scooted over to him on the blanket, and held your hand up to cup his face. Once you did, and he eased into the touch, you ran your thumb over his cheek. Your fingers were spread, to make room for his ear, under his hair. You looked at his eyes, and he looked everywhere but yours. You leaned in, stoping for a second to whisper, “First base,” and then went in for a soft kiss. It wasn’t quick, but it didn’t last long before he bit your lip, the way he always does his own. Pulling back a little you said “Check.”

You unbuttoned your shirt, but left it on, billowing open in the light breeze. You let him have his fun, as you watched him, poke and prod you in likeness to a child studying a bug. He grew more and more comfortable with the actions, as he encompassed your body with his hands like a sightless person would use a walking stick.

As his hand fell down over your shoulder, your bra strap slipped down, causing him to freeze and wait for your cue. You just unhooked it, and slid the other strap down to match. He withdrew his hands, and started chewing on his thumb. “Would you like me to take it off, I mean it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He nodded, thumb still in place.

You slipped it off through your shirt sleeve, and watched him take his vest off, and lay it down on the ground. You then helped him pull his shirt off over his head, which you and Carol have been taking turns helping him do, since his accident.

“I would say second base has been accomplished, what about you?”

He sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and mumbled an “mmm hmm.”

“Wanna try third or shall we wait for another day?”

“What exactly is third?” He asked.

“Hand stuff.” You said blatantly, awaiting his reaction.

He thought for a second, nodded, and said, “trust you.”

His words made your stomach bubble, it was excitement and it made you feel like you were about to throw up. You pushed those feelings down, and hooked your fingers in his belt, pulling him in for a kiss. This time, unlike previously, you didn’t lead it. His lips met yours and neither of you moved without the other.

You did however take the lead when you reached down and rested your hand on his leg. You slowly moved your hand up, and his breath hitched. “Are you okay, does something hurt?” you paused.

“Nah, just needed a sec, good now, though.”

Through his pants, you felt that he needed no time to get ready, so you got straight to work. You undid his button on his pants, unzipping as well. He halted all movement; focusing on breathing and staring at your hand slowly working itself up and down. He shut his eyes tight, and moved your hand.

“What, was that too much.” You asked, needing him to tell you what he wasn’t liking.

“It’s a lot, if you touch me ‘gain, I’m gonna…” his face was red and he grabbed his dick tightly.

“Open your eyes,” you coaxed.

“Can’t need to concentrate.” “If you need to, just do it. I’ll take it as a compliment.” You said moving his hand away. “May I?” You asked.

“I trust you.” He said barely above a whisper.

You finished him off in a matter of seconds, his pants were down mid-thigh, and you pulled his rag out to clean him up. He pressed his index and ring finger to the bridge of his nose, acting as a shield from his bright red face; he radiated chagrin.

As his heart pounded, and his breathing was still accelerated, he leaned on you, and whispered “I trust you, and I love you.”

And you could have spent the day there in that position, with him breathing heavily into your neck. And his arms were wrapped tightly around your waist. And although you got home later that day, and went to your separate sleeping quarters, that doesn’t mean this was the last time, it was only his first.

[rubinegoslay]

[superprincesspea]

Butterfly

Prompt:  A very awkward Daryl trying to surprise me with something for Valentines Day could possibly end up smutty

Requested by @cherieann-2001

Fluff, Awkward Daryl, (809 words)

Daryl had been pacing along your porch for the past forty five minutes. You hadn’t let him know you’d spotted him, you’d just sat quietly reading your book until you could no longer take the heavy sound of his footfalls or the anticipation that swelled in your chest every time he hovered in front of the door.

Folding down your page and resting your book on the coffee table you decide to take matters into your own hands. He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t even notice you standing at the open door until you began to speak. “Are you coming in or just wearing down my porch?”

“Huh?” his ears are burning red as he glances your way while trying to take a casual lean on the porch railing and almost falling over it instead.

You bite back your laugh at the way he tries to recover his fall, after all you don’t want him to run away and with the way his eyes are darting about he’s obviously considering it. “Well are you coming in or not?” you say with authority. You’re realising that waiting for Daryl to make all the moves would take you a hundred years and you don’t have the years or the patience.

With a shrug of his shoulders and his eyes firmly fixed on his boots he mumbles, “if thats what ya want…”

He’s hopeless! He might be able to track a wild boar, build a fire with nothing but a stick and shoot a target further than you could spot one but when it comes to taking the big hints you’ve been laying in front of his face ever since you’ve known him he’s like a blind man with his hands tied behind his back.

You turn back into the house smiling to yourself, leaving the door open and praying he follows you inside. He does. He follows you to the kitchen where you place the kettle on the stove, making you both a cup of sweet tea as Daryl fidgets with his fingers and shifts on his stool like he’s taken a seat on an ants nest.

“Are you okay?” you say, sliding his mug of tea in front of him, desperate to know exactly why he’s been hovering outside your house half the morning.

He looks right at you, his blue eyes wary, his adam's apple bobbing in one hard swallow as he thrust his hand in his pocket rummaging around. For a heartbeat you think he’s going to give the heart of a squirrel or something equally barbaric but what he pulls out is gold, at least it looks gold from what you can see all scrunched up in his fist.

You smile, excited butterflies dancing in your stomach, for you? He’s got something for you?

Daryl clears his throat, “ya said.. Ya know… you like uh… here.” Clumsy fingers thrust your present into your hand and the feel of his skin on yours enough to make your heart skip a beat.

It's a necklace, a dainty pink butterfly pendant on a chain so fine it's barely visible against your skin. It's perfect. A wave of warmth fills you from top to toe as you imagine him seeing this somewhere out in the world and thinking of you, bringing it back for you.

“I love it!” you smile, pulling your hair over you shoulder and fastening it around your neck all the while imagining Daryl having the finesse to do it for you instead. Maybe next time. “What do you think?” you say, elongating your neck.

“You’re real pretty,” he blurts, his ears turning even redder as he panics, knocking his cup of tea all over the counter and scrambling off his stool like he’s going to bolt straight out the door.

You hook your hand around his bicep, with any other man you’d make him do the chasing but with Daryl you do what you’re sure he never will no matter how many signs you give him. You kiss him, right on the lips, your hands sliding behind his neck with a sigh.

Daryl's hands rest awkwardly on your shoulders, his tongue barely escaping his mouth like he still isn’t sure.

“Relax,” you tell him and it's now or never. If you want this man then you can’t be subtle so you say it plain, “I want you Daryl. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

The way he looks at you changes, you can almost see the shyness floating from his eyes like a butterfly on the wind. He doesn’t say anything, he’s not a man of words and you don’t need him to be, he grabs you like you belong to him and kisses you like you’ve been wanting him to. Hard and rough, taking control like you’re the wilderness waiting to be explored.

Thank you for reading!

Tagging:

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[rubinegoslay]

Haven’t made one of these in forever.

Happy Easter!!🐣

[rubinegoslay]

Poor Thing

AN- I haven’t posted this anywhere else yet, this is just a short, fluffy/angsty unpacking of what might have happened after Daryl rescued Carol in season 3. I haven’t seen that episode or written for Caryl in forever so sorry if I got any facts wrong. This was written for fun an I hope you enjoy. 😊

“Easy now, easy.” Daryl coaxed in a husky voice. “Just a little at a time.”

He was sitting on a bed in a cell in their prison home, his back leaning against a wall and a very dehydrated Carol propped up against his chest. He had his arms around her, and was holding a bottle of water for her to drink, having her take little sips.

He wasn’t sure if the physical contact was absolutely necessary. He also wasn’t sure if it was more for her benefit of his.

She had been missing for three days. Was it only three days? It felt like months. After the walker attack was over and he could not find her, a heavy sort of feeling settled deep in his gut and seemed to grow heavier by the hour, like all of his insides was slowly filling with sand. Sitting with the others and not seeing her face, not hearing her voice, her absence seemed to grow, throb and ache.

When he was searching the prison with Carl and found her knife, the heavy, sinking feeling in him swelled into a shaking roar, and it was all he could do to stay calm and press on. But then he heard the noise. The sound of a walker, or so he thought. It made sense to the tracker, the walker outside the door with Carol’s knife stuck in its throat, the walker just on the other side of the door. It could have been her. She lost the fight, got bit, made it just behind the door where she faced her own death and turned alone, with no one to comfort her, no one to kiss good bye, no one to hear her last words, and no one to stop her from turning into one of those things.

These ugly, poisonous thoughts clawed at Daryl terribly. He couldn’t bear the images that came to mind, or facing the reality that they might manifest before him when he opened the door.

It took him a few minutes to collect himself. He tapped into his anger to give him strength, he thought of Merle calling him a pussy, he thought of his old man taking the switch to his back again and again, he thought of how he and Carol shared that abusive past, and the darkest thought of all, how he failed to save her. How he failed to save Sophia. He took all his anger and he burst through the door, ready for anything but what he found.

His Carol. Alive!

Weakened and in need of succor, but alive. He had to touch her to make sure she was real. Real and breathing. The heaviness in his gut vanished in an instant and seemed to take all of his ballast with him. He scooped her up eagerly but carefully, and was scarcely able to tear his eyes off her long enough to make the walk down the corridor and back to the others.

But he managed to make it back without tripping over anything, carrying Carol in his arms, savoring the feel of the weight of her body, knowing she was real, alive and unturned.

He called out to Carl to get him some water.

“Easy now, not too fast.” He soothed.

She hadn’t had anything to drink in three days, but Daryl knew if she chugged water too fast it would just make her body throw up.

He wasn’t sure if she could sit up on her own, that’s why he propped her up against him, so her back was pressed into his chest. That and her poor exhausted body felt cold, even in the Georgia summer. That and Daryl just needed to touch her, needed a constant somatic reminder that she was with him.

She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she relaxed into him, enjoying the feeling of his heat radiating against her, her trust in him complete, she allowed herself to take comfort from her rescuer. Her hand curled around his in gratitude. He smiled beside her and gently stroked her hand with the course pad of his thumb.

They stayed like that for a long time, Carol leaning against Daryl, Daryl giving her small but steady sips of cool water and quiet words of encouragement. At times Daryl ventured to caress the length of her arm, or he would even dare to lean forward and lightly nuzzle her head, his untrimmed hair tickling her neck.

After she had enough to drink, she fell asleep in his arms, still exhausted from her ordeal but recovering in the arms of the man who loved her, her breathing long and slow and peaceful.

Daryl did not sleep. Not at first. He couldn’t. He wanted to stay awake so he could savor this moment in time. The woman he loved was alive. He found her. And as she lay in his arms, such a feeling of tranquillity possessed him, so unfamiliar but welcome to him in his old and in this new world.

[rubinegoslay]

Keep trying Pookie 😭💔