Summary: Just a cute, quick blurb of Daryl Dixon and his lady babysitting Judith and being the best Aunt and Uncle. This is my first time writing a fanfic, so be nice pls.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Warning: fluff?
Divider: cafekitsune
It was quiet in the makeshift cabin, the kind of quiet that wrapped itself around you like a blanket. The air smelled of damp earth, wood, and the faint trace of firewood burning low in the stove. You sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, while Daryl, as usual, was up and about, pacing between the kitchen and the window. The crackle of the fire and the soft hum of Judith's murmurs were the only sounds that filled the space.
You couldn’t help but smile as Judith toddled over to where you sat. Her tiny hands grasped your fingers, and you let out a soft chuckle, lifting her into your lap. The little girl’s face lit up when she saw Daryl walking past. She reached out to him, and for a moment, Daryl’s steely demeanor softened.
“Hey, little ass kicker,” he muttered, squatting down to her level. Judith giggled as he gently poked her side, causing her to squirm in your arms. Daryl’s lips quirked up in that rare, soft smile of his, and you felt a warmth bloom in your chest.
“You two doin’ alright?” he asked, his voice low, but you could hear the concern behind it.
“Just fine,” you answered, nudging Judith so she could look up at him. She reached her chubby arms out toward him, and with a sigh, Daryl gave in, scooping her up and balancing her against his chest. You watched, heart melting at the sight of the tough, battle-worn man cradling Judith as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
“You know, she’s lucky to have you,” you said softly, watching the way his eyes softened as he looked at her.
He glanced over at you, that rare, soft expression still lingering. “I reckon she’s lucky to have both of us,” he replied quietly, his voice quieter than usual.
You could feel the butterflies stir in your stomach, not from the words themselves but from the way he said them—so uncharacteristically vulnerable, as if he didn’t quite know how to express what was in his heart. It wasn’t just Judith he was talking about; it was you, too.
Daryl carefully set Judith back down on the floor, watching as she staggered to the toy pile nearby, her little feet too big for her still-growing body. You both watched her for a while, sharing a peaceful silence. Then, Daryl moved to the window again, peering out into the night.
“You know,” he started, voice low but sure. “I never thought I’d be good at this, all this,” he gestured vaguely, as though encompassing everything—life, love, survival. “But with you, it feels different. Like, maybe it’s all worth it.”
Your heart squeezed, and you shifted, pulling your knees to your chest as you looked at him. “I’ve always believed in you, Daryl,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “You’re good at this. And you’ve got more love in you than you think. You’ve just got to let yourself believe it.”
Daryl let out a breath, shaking his head a little, but the corners of his lips curled ever so slightly. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he muttered, the honesty in his words taking you by surprise.
“You love me,” you said simply, “and that’s enough.”
He paused, turning to face you. The firelight danced across his face, casting a soft glow on the usually hard lines of his features. His eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the man underneath—the one who cared so deeply, even when he didn’t know how to show it.
“I do,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. His words were like a vow, spoken just for you.
Judith let out a loud squeal of laughter, pulling you both back into the present moment. She had managed to tip over a stack of blocks, and now she was trying to build them up again. You both couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of her determination, her tiny hands clumsily stacking them, only for them to fall down again.
Daryl chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s got her mother’s stubbornness.”
You playfully looked at him from across the room. “And her father’s patience,” you shot back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.
Daryl’s smile grew a little, and he walked over to sit beside you on the couch, letting you lean against him as you both watched Judith. She was already building a new tower, this time with more success.
With his arm around your shoulders, Daryl pulled you closer, his fingers lightly tracing down your arm. It was a small gesture, but one that made your heart flutter. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“I think we’re doing okay,” he said quietly, as if to reassure himself as much as you.
You smiled up at him, meeting his gaze with all the affection you had for him. “Yeah, we are.”
And as the fire flickered and Judith’s soft laughter filled the room, you knew that no matter what came next, you had everything you needed right here.
After having many amazing conversations with a few of my mutuals and getting way too obsessed with my "yj if they were in twd" moodboard series, I've decided to write a Yellowjackets x The Walking Dead crossover fic!!
Im currently working on planning out the plot, but I'm curious-
Should I go the supernatural approach for the Yellowjackets? Or was 'It' just a coping mechanism for Travis and the Girls?
Pairing: Shane Walsh x F!Reader
Rating: E
WC: ~1,7K
Warning: unhealthy coping mechanism – post ZA – Sad reader – angst – smut – porn with feelings
I honestly don't know what this is. I've been having smut on the brain for days, but this turned out to be sadder than I meant it to be. I guess I also have a lot of feelings running around my head and this happened. Eh, I wrote some reader insert again at least XD. Also, I wrote this in one sitting, so if you see typos? Oops?
AO3 link
You’re restless. The day had been long and one of the worst you’d had in a good while, which considering the times, should say enough. You toss and turn on your cot in one of the shared rooms in the Greenes’ house, unable to get the day’s images out of your head. You’d lost two of the five people who have travelled with you before you’d met Rick and Shane’s group. All of you had been strangers when everything had started falling apart, but after so long on the road together, you’d all become close. They, like you, had been aware of the risks, knew that death lies just around the corner if you let your guard down for even one second. You learn to deal with grief differently, moving on faster than anyone deserves, only because if you don’t, you’re next. Even if you sometimes think that it would be so much easier to just stop fighting.
Contrary to the rest of your initial group, you hadn’t cried. You couldn't. Shane had stepped towards the bodies, but you’d pushed him away. You wanted to be the one to make sure that your friends wouldn’t turn, and fought down the tremor in your hand as you used your knife. You’d caught Shane watching you out of the corner of your eyes as Rick had come forward to speak kind words and squeezed your shoulder. You’d only vaguely nodded and helped to dig the graves, the labor stopping most thoughts. Hershel had said a few words afterwards, but you’d barely heard any of them, feeling physically and mentally drained.
Despite your fatigue, hours later, you’re unable to sleep, and finally kick off the sheets to get up and leave the room. Carol sees you leave and gently grasps your hand as you pass by her. You look down at her and into her sorrowful eyes, her face illuminated by the moon coming through the curtains. She doesn’t say anything, but you understand her just fine. You can’t manage a smile, but return the gesture, and she lets go.
You amble through the quiet house and exit through the main door. The cool air feels good on your skin, and you breathe in deeply. You absently stare at the tents sitting on Hershel’s land and are suddenly hit by an urge that you hope will help get your brain to stop working for a few hours of rest. You hop down the front steps and walk towards one specific tent. Dale is the only one still awake and sitting on the trailer, on watch. He’s not facing towards you, and you keep your steps light enough that he doesn’t hear you. You don’t really care if he does see you, but you also don’t want to deal with his misplaced disappointed look. You know too well what his opinion would be, and you couldn’t care less about hearing it.
Kneeling in front of the tent, you unzip it as quietly as possible, but Shane is awake before you have it all the way open. He’s sitting up on his sleeping bag and greets you with his rifle aimed at your face. You stare at Shane over the barrel, face expressionless, as you wait for him to lower the gun.
“Jesus fucking Christ. You got a death wish or somethin’?” He barks under his breath, mindful of the others, but levels you with a pissed off look while he puts the rifle away to the side.
You roll your eyes, unsure if he can even see it since you have your back to the moon. You crawl forward on your hands and knees until your knees stop at each side of his thighs. You lift your upper body to fist both hands into Shane’s brown tee shirt and pull him into a kiss.
“The fuck you’re doing?” Shane pushes you away with a palm over your chest, staring at you with a confused expression, his eyebrows lowering over his eyes.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” You counter, pressing forward again, but Shane grabs you by the shoulders and holds you still.
“Yeah, exactly. ‘s why I’m asking. Why 're you not going to Daryl? You two always look so chummy.”
“Well, if you don’t want to, maybe I should,” you say with an exasperated sigh and pull back.
You wouldn’t. You like Daryl a lot, but not like that. Shane obviously isn’t aware of that because he catches one of your wrists before you can move further away from him.
“Didn’t say that,” he says gruffly and draws you back towards him with a hand over your nape.
You let out a long exhale at the contact of his lips, opening your mouth for more, now. You deliberately turn the kiss into a filthy exchange, wanting nothing more than to get what you wanted across without speech. Shane understands well enough and moves the two of you until you’re sitting astride him and pulling at each other’s clothes. You break the kiss to remove your top, and the moment that your chest is bare in front of him, Shane surges forward to mouth over the skin between your breasts. Your breath catches once he turns his head to one side and sucks a nipple into his mouth. You roll your hips over his, feeling him swell under you and pushing up. Shane switches to your other nipple, making you groan when he lightly pulls on it with his teeth before sucking on it again. You fist the collar of his tee shirt and pull, getting desperate for more. Shane gets the hint and removes the tee shirt, angling his face to yours to kiss you a second later. You manage to push down your pants and kick them off while staying on top of him, reaching for the fastenings of his pants right after.
“Come on,” you mutter angrily against his lips as Shane pushes your hands away once you’ve opened his fly.
An instant later, Shane grabs you around the waist and throws you to the side, making you land on your back with a shocked gasp. Shane sits up between your legs, pants undone, but he doesn’t move for a beat, only staring at you. This time, he’s the one with his back to the moonlight, meaning that you can’t clearly see his expression. You’re about to complain about him stopping, when he lowers his upper half over you and kisses you silent, delving his tongue deep inside and licking over yours with intent. You moan and throw your arms around his shoulders, your thighs squeezing his sides. Holding himself up with an elbow next to your neck, his arm circling over your head, you feel his other hand slowly stroking down your body. He shuffles his knees forward until the back of your thighs rest over the top of his, moving your legs up and further apart. His fingers slide down your mound, two of them slipping between your folds.
You’re not ready for the way Shane breaches your wet entrance with those fingers, and you have to gasp sharply at the sudden pleasure of being filled. Shane leans up slightly, positioning himself to be able to look at you as his fingers start fucking you in earnest. Your chest bows up as you throw your head back and moan deeply, taken aback by Shane’s action. You’d intended for him to fuck you hard and fast to get your mind off the spiraling thoughts, playing into the fact that you know that the attraction is mutual. You hadn’t expected this, however. The way he’s watching you raptly as he works his hand quickly, to get you there as fast as possible. You want to turn your face away, push his hand away because it’s all becoming too much too soon. But you can’t. You have a hand gripping the top of the arm that’s fucking you, but you can’t do more than just keeping it there. It’s the fact that he’s observing you, though, that makes you unable to move. He’s looking for something, knowing that you came to him for a reason. To forget.
Moan after moan leaves you, and you’re gritting your teeth as not to make too much noise. You have to bite your lower lip on a scream as Shane plunges another thick finger inside you.
“Let go, Darlin’,” Shane rasps. “Come on.”
And you do. Your brow creases as explosive bliss rocks through your entire body, making your legs quiver and tiny moans to leave through your lips. Shane guides you through it, shushing you and slowly kissing you.
You barely register it when Shane hikes your thighs over his hips and lowers his whole body over you, until you feel his cock pushing inside you. You make a garbled sound as your tender walls are spread even further, on the brink of uncomfortable, but the pleasure wins once Shane starts moving and your voice goes higher. Shane clasps a palm over your mouth to stop you from getting louder, something you’re grateful for since you seem unable to hold back any longer. Definitely not once Shane pushes one of your legs up some more to give him a better angle, so that now, he can fuck into you deeper, hips snapping forward faster. In the half light, you can tell that his eyes never leave yours, his face only a few inches away from yours, over the hand still on your mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and your heels into the back of his thighs as you start coming around him for the second time. You can feel your walls fluttering around his cock, and get an aborted few curses from Shane for it. He removes his hand from your mouth, and this time he catches any sound you make with his lips, sliding his tongue alongside yours and groaning deep in the back of his throat as he comes as well.
Shane rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing deeply for a while. As he slowly rolls to the side, you can actually feel how your body slowly unwinds, your mind going fuzzy with sleepiness. You know, in the far back of your head, that tomorrow you’ll have to deal with all of it. That you’ll probably have to talk about tonight with Shane. But as he helps your groggy body to move enough to put on a few clothes again and get you into a more comfortable position for sleep – because there’s no way that you’re going anywhere now – his barely audible I got you, darling, gives you hope that things could be okay.
All I want is a fanfiction where Feral!Rick from his run in with the a Claimers/Terminus/Beginning if Alexandria to face off with Negan. I just feel like that would be far more satisfactory??? It just feels like Negan really didn’t see Rick bamf Grimes at his full potential.
To know Beth is a whole different experience. Daryl once thought of her as some sheltered kid. While she was very much a sheltered young girl at the beginning of the end of the world she had grown in leaps and bounds from that scared kid back in her family’s farm. Any judgments that Daryl held against her she proved him wrong. She could track, kill a walker with a slick knife to the brain and she was feisty as hell. The bow skills were coming along too. And damn she looked good with that weapon cradled in her bronzed arms.
moodboard for ‘grass fields in normandy’ by @elsac2
In the middle of France occupation by the Germans, famous actress Michonne Dupree has to share a small house with the ever stoic and cold colonel Rick Grimes. Animosity, silence speaking volume, and quiet looks become the escape to the war raging out. She hates him, and he might do too.
