Daryl's iconic look was born out of Norman Reedus's insecurities.
The actor admitted that he felt uncomfortable on his first day on set. Reedus joined the show in the third episode of the first season, and by that time, the main cast had already formed a close-knit group, making him feel out of place.
— I was super insecure and very nervous... In the scene where I approach and shout at Merle, I remember turning around and seeing a bunch of faces looking at me like I was a new kid in school. I just went with the flow, barely raising my head or making eye contact with anyone. It was like I was saying, 'Don't look at me.'
This is how Daryl's iconic slanted gaze came to be.
𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 ;; Cade gets his ass taken like Terry and the anons
𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 ;; pegging obvs, n also he's a *whispers* ginger
𝐱-𝐭𝐫𝐚 ;; gn!dom!top!reader (dick is not mentioned to be real or fake), smut, drabble
Hot puffs of air were expelled from his lips, as you guided Cade up and down in your lap. Soft gasps whispered into the air sent electricity down your spine, hips moving to elicit more of those oh-so-cute noises that built on his tongue until they overflowed.
“Nngh… wait…” he panted, back arching away from his hands, bound behind his scraped up back. “F—fuck…”
You stroked the thinly stretched skin over the protruding bone of his hip, a few of your fingers sinking into the malleable flesh around it. He shuddered, every small movement he made pushing against his insides, while he adjusted his position on his weakened knees.
“Take it easy honey,” you cooed, gently guiding him back up with one hand, tracing his lip with the thumb of your other.
His thighs trembled under his weight, and you could tell he was nearing his limit. A pity, really, it had only been a little under an hour.
His eyes were dazed, and his hot face leaned into your touch, teeth sinking into his swollen lip. “God…”
A lock of bleached orange-blond hair fell over his face as his head dropped forward. Muscles flexing under the flesh of his abdomen, he began rocking back and forth, unable to hold himself straight any longer. Body trembling and straining, his movements decreased in precision.
For a moment, you felt a jolting movement against your stomach, before he let out a hoarse whimper, and stopped his movements, dropping against your chest. His back rose and fell with an uneven rhythm, his breathing being the only sound in the air, until he broke the silence.
"Sorry..." he half-rolled off of you, slipping an arm out of the loose tie his hands were in.
He took out the black elastic that held his hair in the mess of a ponytail that it was, letting the ginger hair sit right above his collarbone.
You began to stand, reaching for the towel on the nightstand, but he stopped you, settling at the foot of the bed, between your legs as he laid a hand on your knee. Long black eyelashes fluttered lazily as he looked up at you, a bashful, though coy smile tugging at his lips.
"I guess I should redeem myself, right? That didn't satisfy you at all..."
— I'm just as awkward as he is. Like him, it is difficult for me to express my feelings... However, if you leave me in the middle of the woods, I'll probably just curl up into a ball and cry.
