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Stupid Prizes

(TWD Daryl Dixon x reader)

Content Warnings: 18+ minors dni, explicit discussion of sex, handjobs and fingering.

I want to preface this by saying I’ve never written smut before, just read a lot of bad smut that disappointed me. This is pretty much plot with porn at the end, it’s a part 2 to a small bit of a larger fic I’ve been writing that I posted here a few months ago.

You can read it here:

Part 1

Summary: You were in the process of taking over your family’s farm from your father with the support of your step-brother and a close family friend in the form of your farmhand when the dead started walking. Now the people you loved were dying left and right and you were trying to keep what was left of your family together while your problems piled up. Your newest one: a group of survivors have set up camp on your property and are starting to outstay their welcome but you’re starting to think you wouldn’t actually mind if one or two stayed behind after the others are kicked to the curb. Your sister Maggie seemed fond of the one who’s good at the supply runs you were always nervous to send her on alone and the surly hunter you liked to rile up was just your type.

After a long day of making sure things on your farm were working smoothly, you had decided to relax (or at least try to) out on the porch swing, lazily rocking back and forth as you stared out towards the gate at the front of your property waiting for Maggie to return from the run she went on with the boy from that damned group. Though you tried to remind yourself she was full-grown and tough as nails just like you taught her to be, it didn’t stop you from agitatedly tapping your freshly painted nails (courtesy of Beth who got bored a little after lunchtime) on the sweating glass of ice cold lemonade you’d been nursing. The sun was going to start setting in an hour or so and she’d promised they’d be back before dark. If that Glen guy got your younger sister killed, you were going to wear his guts like a pashmina.

Your eyes wandered from the distant driveway to the camp on the far side of your yard. The group there were all sitting around a cooking stove, fresh venison stew bubbling over the flames. It was fairly far from your house, but your eyesight was good enough for you to identify the lone figure sitting a little ways away from the rest of the group, carving at an antler from the buck you killed the other day. Daryl Dixon was hot-headed, antisocial, and endlessly easy to rile up. He was your new favorite toy. You had noticed the way he looked at you almost as soon as you met him and his people and decided to have a bit of fun with him when you ran into him out in the woods. The way you'd made his cheeks turn all pink and had him floundering for words was just so satisfying, especially when it seemed like he always had something sharp and sardonic to say. You knew it’d be easy for you to yank his chain, he made no effort to hide how he watched you; it was like he didn’t expect anyone to ever pay attention to him—but how could you not?

His body was all hard muscle and he was so good with his hands, always working on something whether it be skinning something he’d caught, making arrows for that crossbow of his, working on his bike, or carving at something like that deer antler. Not only that, but he was an incredibly adept hunter—he was leagues better than you were, though you’d sooner chew glass than ever admit it—and though he didn’t seem to care one way or the other for anyone in his group and didn’t go out of his way to be nice to anyone, he was still in the woods every day searching for that little girl even when everyone else was giving up. Everything you’d observed about him told you he could only ever be an asset, not a liability like the others. Despite his short temper he was a good man with solid principles, great judgment, and exceptional skills—he was someone built for hard, honest work; of that much, you were certain. It was like you’d built him in a factory to be the perfect farmhand, something you desperately needed now that Otis was gone. You were fairly confident you could convince him to cut ties with his people and stick around once the others were sent packing. All you needed to do was give him the right incentive and boy, were you willing to give it to him.

If you couldn’t convince him that’d be a real shame, but hey, at least you could have a little fun with him while he was still around. “Hey,” a clipped greeting brought you out of your thoughts and you realized you’d been staring off into Daryl-related-space so long that Maggie had returned and you hadn’t even noticed.

“Howdy,” you said, trying to seem like you hadn’t been zoning out while thinking about big, rough, work-worn hands. Maggie didn’t notice you shift to sit up a bit in the swing, she was too busy taking the steps two at a time and trying to rush past you into the house. The tempo of her walk and the way her eyes kept to the ground had Big Sister Alarms going off in your head. You’d seen this behavior before. Though Maggie had left home for university after graduating high school, you’d stayed, having taken a couple gap years before attending Horticulture and Livestock Science courses at the community college nearby. You’d lived with her during the entirety of her teenage dirtbag phase after your dad remarried when she was underage drinking, smoking weed, shoplifting, and committing the most egregious sin of all—raiding your closet without permission. This march up the porch steps she was doing was so reminiscent of when she’d breeze past you on school mornings, trying to get out of the house before you could look up from your breakfast and notice she was wearing your favorite crop top.

“Pump the breaks,” you told her in an unhurried but suspicious tone that had her freezing with her hand on the screen door. She looked over to you like a deer in the headlights. You crooked your finger, “c’mere a second.” She took her sweet time taking the steps to stand in front of you, leaning against the porch railing in front of the swinging bench you were still rocking in. You looked her up and down before some movement behind her caught your attention and you spied Glen watching you both from a little ways down the driveway, where he was securing the horses they’d taken into town. When he realized you saw him he quickly clammed up and made a b-line for the camp under the trees. You felt a knowing grin stretch your face and Maggie let out a ’what?’ in a flat tone, trying to pretend she didn’t know what you could possibly want with her. You pointed at her. “You,” you said, pausing for dramatic effect, “had sex.”

She immediately broke, groaning in annoyance, “Jesus Christ, what, can you smell it on me?”

“No,” you said with a laugh as she moved to plop down next to you on the bench, making it jostle and sway in a chaotic manner for a moment. You debated whether you should tell her that she looked sweaty and guilty and that her shirt was all crumpled and haphazardly untucked, before settling on just pointing out the thing that had turned your inclinations into certainty. “When you left this afternoon he was trailin’ after you like a lost dog. Ever since you got back, though, his tail’s been waggin’ like it’s going out of style.” You nodded in Glen's direction, who had paused to look back at the two of you several times during his return to the group. You put on a cooing pout like you found him adorable. ”Such a sweet little pup. You’re gonna crush that boy if you’re not careful.”

“Alright, fine, yeah, we did it. Do you want a medal?” You snorted at her defensive sass, knowing she’d picked it up from you.

“Sorry for the third degree,” you appeased, “you know I have a chronic case of Nose-in-Business Disease.”

Maggie crossed her fingers and held them up reverently like she was in prayer. “Here’s hoping it’s terminal.”

“Ha!” You reached towards the table beside you and grabbed an empty cup. You handed it to her before taking the pitcher of lemonade and pouring her a glass. “Fuck you, too.” There was a quiet moment where the two of you just sat, sipping lemonade and swinging together. You slumped down a little and rested your head on her shoulder and in response she rested her head on top of yours. “So, is he your boyfriend now? Am I gonna have to give him the Bernadette speech we gave Jimmy?”

Bernadette was the biggest, fattest, meanest pig on your farm. When Jimmy had first started dating Beth, you and Maggie had cornered him, asked him to go on a walk, and then took him to the pig pen where you told him you’d chop him up and feed him to her if he ever hurt your baby sister. Poor thing had practically pissed himself. “No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Maggie replied tiredly, “Is it even worth wasting time thinkin’ about? You’re not gonna let him stay.”

You hummed jokingly like you were contemplating the idea. You were, actually, now that you got a look at the way his eyes longingly gravitated towards your sister. So far as you’d heard, he was good at doing supply runs. Sooner or later, Maggie would have to go into town again. If she had someone she trusted who could look out for her and genuinely cared about her safety and well-being, you’d feel a lot better about sending her out like that. “Well, I’m not gonna take in the whole litter,” you cover, “but we can keep one or two if you like. I mean, you’ve already given him a name and grown attached so there’s no helpin’ it at this point—but he’s your responsibility, I’m not takin’ care of him for ya. You’ll have to feed him, brush him, take him for walks—Oof!” you doubled over, some of your drink spilling onto the deck by your feet as Maggie elbowed you in the stomach.

A mean cackle fell from your lips before she caught something in your words. “Wait, hold on, one or two?” That sobered you enough to be able to respond to her own interrogation. “Do you have your eye on somebody?”

you made a noise of non-committance, “maybe.”

“It’s not Shane, is it? Because I know he seems like your type, but—”

You made a loud, protestant noise of disgust that had the camp across the yard looking up in alarm like something might be attacking you. When they saw Maggie laughing her ass off and you looking at her like she belonged in a padded cell they reluctantly returned to their own business, wondering what it was that had prompted such a visceral reaction from you. “No! What’s the matter with you? He’s so creepy! The way he acts around his best friend’s wife gives me the heebie jeebies—and that haircut is not doin’ him any favors. I liked the curls he had when he first got here better.”

“Okay,” Maggie relented, still laughing, “who is it then?”

You brought your glass up to your lips, hoping it might hide the bashful smile on your face and keep up your cool and casual facade, “Crossbow Boy.”

You heard her choke on her own drink at that. “Daryl?” She said his name incredulously like you’d just told her it was Dale instead. “But he seems so…” You gave her a flat look and watched the gears turn in her head as she flipped through a whole mental catalog of things to say, probably trying to find something that didn’t also apply to you. Gruff, rude, introverted, contemptuous, stubborn… “I mean, I don’t think he’s bathed the entire time he’s been here,” she eventually criticized, seeming to have given up.

“I know,” you agreed with a scrunch to your nose. You then bumped her shoulder with yours conspiratorially and returned to resting against her like you had been, “think I can seduce him into a shower? Let the water rinse away the muck and reveal all sorts of old scars underneath, make him all shiny by latherin’ him up with a soapy washcloth, have him bend down and bury his face in my tits so I can wash his hair for him…”

“Gross,” Maggie deadpanned, trying to get you to stop.

“Really, though,” you continued, ignoring her, “He’s got arms like tree trunks, he ain’t afraid to get dirty, and he’s clearly got a lot of practical skills. We could use an extra workhorse around here; I don’t think Jimmy and Glen are gonna be able to help me carry hay bales or work the cultivator—and I don’t want Daddy doin’ it anymore, he’s gettin’ too old. Besides that, he’s got such big hands and he seems so good with ‘em. I got a good look at them the other day, they’re all rough and calloused. I’d love to feel ’em scratch against my bare skin when he grabs my hips and—”

You cut yourself off, much to Maggie’s clear relief, when the screen door opened and Beth popped her head out. “What are you guys talkin’ about out here?”

“Nothin’,” you and Maggie said together. Beth rolled her eyes and stepped out, taking up the last little bit of space on the bench next to Maggie and making you both scooch to the side to make more room.

“You were talkin’ about sex, weren’t you?” What the fuck, was she a witch?

“What do you know about sex?” Maggie scoffed, prompting you to repeat her question with a different, more suspicious inflection.

“Yeah, what do you know about sex?“ Were you going to have to make good on your promise to axe-murder Jimmy?

“I know more than you think I do,” she answered confidently, “I see things and I hear things. I definitely heard (y/n) talking about Daryl’s ‘big hands’ and ‘tree trunk arms’.” She let out a dreamy, sarcastic sigh. “The window into the living room is open, by the way.” You whipped around to look behind you in a panic, trying to discern if that meant your father had heard you talking, too. “Daddy’s upstairs readin’ The Bible, don’t worry.”

“If you heard it all, then why even ask what we were takin’ about?” Maggie asked in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

Beth giggled, mirroring your position and leaning against her, “wanted to make you squirm a little.”

“You’re kinda evil and vindictive when you wanna be,” you mused, kicking your feet hard and making your side of the bench swing more than the rest.

“Gee, wonder where I got it from.” There was another quiet moment after that before Beth spoke again, “So, you really gonna sleep with ‘im?”

“Oh, most definitely,” you confirmed, “but not just yet. I wanna wind him up first.” Your sisters gave you a synchronized look of bemusement, so you elaborated. “You know when you take a music box and you wind it up and you just keep twisting and twisting and twisting ‘till you can’t anymore and then you open the lid and the little ballerina spins around like crazy? That’s what I wanna do; I wanna see how far I can push him. He doesn’t look it, but he’s real easy to tease. We ran into each other out in the woods yesterday and not even ten minutes into talkin’ I had him just about ready to take me against a tree.”

“Is that a good idea?” Maggie questioned with concern, “he kinda seems like he’s got a short fuse. What if he, you know…”

You waved her off, “eh, I’m pretty sure I can handle him. Honestly, though, I kinda hope I can’t handle him if you know what I mean,” You tried to keep Beth from seeing you poke your tongue into your cheek and pantomime a blowjob from where she was by hiding behind Maggie a little.

“You’re such a perv,” she reprimanded, grabbing your arm and yanking it down.

“Nah, just lonely. Bet you know the feeling, Little Miss Drug-Store-Hookup.”

“You two are so lucky,” Beth mused, “you’ve got stuff to talk about when it comes to boys.”

Your brow furrowed and you emerged from your hiding spot to peer at her. “What the hell are you on about? You’re the only one on this bench with a whole-ass boyfriend.”

She snorted, staring off across the property, “hardly.” She brought up her legs, resting them up on the edge of the seat and wrapping her arms around her knees, “Jimmy and I were only dating a few weeks before everything happened. Daddy’s actin’ like we’re already married and Jimmy’s so busy tryin’ to be ‘the man of the family’ now that Daddy’s gettin’ older and Shawn and Otis aren’t around that he barely pays attention to me.”

“Oh, is he now?” You said, amusement tingeing a cruel smile. You’d noticed him trying to step up and fumble his way through farmwork. The kid didn’t know his ass from his elbow when it came to hard labor. It was funny to think he was doing all that to try and learn how to do your job.

“I tried tellin’ him you were already ‘the man of the family’ way before people started gettin’ sick and not to bother or he’d make you mad, but it’s like he didn’t even hear me.”

You brushed off the way Beth tried to placate and vent to you. You shouldn’t be surprised to hear any of that. You’d run into Jimmy’s dad way too many times at the farmer’s market, which is to say you ran into him at all. He always tried to ‘help’ you by taking ‘heavy’ boxes of produce you unloaded from your truck right out of your hands and placing them in all the wrong spots at your stand, making more work for you when you’d inevitably have to rearrange and move everything once he’d left. You always told him you had it handled, but the man said he couldn’t stand by and ‘watch you struggle’, giving you unsolicited advice about how you were in your thirties now and not getting younger so you needed to start thinking about settling down with a strong man who could do all the hard stuff for you so you could focus on giving your dad grandkids. He always said it like you were making sacrifices for your family by taking on so much responsibility for the farm; like it wasn’t something you could possibly want for yourself or fulfill your life with. “Jimmy’s young. He’s never really had to work before and he was raised traditionally,” you said as graciously as you could. You really wanted to say he was dumb, wouldn’t know a day of work if it bit him on the ass, and had been indoctrinated into blatant misogyny, but he was still Beth’s boyfriend so you had to at least act like you liked him in front of her. “The idea that I would be in charge over Otis or Shawn probably doesn’t even compute to him.” She hummed like she agreed, which made you a little sad. You half expected her to rush to his defense; she’d done so with other boyfriends that you hadn’t been half so critical of. In fact, she tended to fall ass-over-teakettle for just about any boy that struck her fancy. You remembered her being with boys for less time than Jimmy that she’d cried about for weeks after it was over, but it seemed like she was already checked out of this relationship.

She seemed checked out of a lot of things since you’d lost Shawn and her mom and you couldn’t blame her. You’d been exactly her age when you and Maggie lost your mom. You hadn’t handled it well, but you at least handled it better than Beth, who hadn’t seemed to have handled it at all. It was like she was pretending it wasn’t happening and that they really were just sick like Otis and your dad believed. You didn’t share that worldview, it was why you and your dad fought so often these days. You had your eyes open, you saw what he didn’t want to. You thought keeping those people in the barn was dangerous and desecrating. They fester, they rot, they don’t stop even after they’re completely torn apart. They’re dead and they should be laid to rest, not kept around in a barn and…fed. You refused to go near the damn thing and you didn’t want anything to do with it. You didn’t want to go in there and see the way your loved ones had decayed—you should have fought harder to have them buried while they still looked like themselves, because now things were getting out of hand. It was getting harder and harder to keep the ones already in there from getting out and eating people when they came back with new additions to the rapidly growing collection. You’d thought once or twice about sneaking in there and putting them all down or just straight up setting the barn on fire, but it was too risky and too big of a waste. You’d like to be able to use that barn again some day.

“What are you thinkin’ about so hard over there?” Maggie asked, pulling you back to planet earth for the second time that afternoon.

You gave her a merciless smirk and began to make up something else. “I’m thinkin’ about how I need to reinforce the well lids tomorrow, it’s been eatin’ at me since we found that bloated guy in the one we use for livestock. I might just ask for Daryl’s help. Can’t wait to see him wipin’ sweat from his brow after workin’ those muscles in the blazin’ hot sun. I’ll offer him a rag and some lemonade, watch him towel himself off and gulp it down. If I’m lucky maybe a few drops will spill from the corner of his mouth and drip down his—”

Beth had laughed you off and left to go inside halfway through your monologue, probably thinking Maggie was a glutton for punishment the way she asked for your thoughts like that and eventually Maggie got sick of hearing your depraved and horny descriptions and pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you from speaking anymore. “Okay, I’m done talkin’ about this with you.” You licked at her hand, instant regret washing over both of you as she now had a wet palm and you remembered she’d been touching horses and dust-covered shelves all day and hadn’t washed her hands yet. “Dumbass,” Maggie muttered, wiping her hand on her pants and glaring at you.

“Yeah, that was poorly judged on my part,” you admitted with a grimace, pouring yourself more lemonade and chugging it down to try and get the foul taste off your tongue.

She chuckled, getting up from the bench with her hands raised over her head as if she was trying not to physically touch the conversation you’d been having, her empty glass left abandoned on the deck of the porch. “Don’t take too much time ‘windin’ up’ Daryl, you really need to get laid so you can stop talkin’ like a nympho.”

You blew a raspberry at her as she left, pulling the swing forward enough for you to put your feet up on the porch railing, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want me to answer!” Shaking your head, you let yourself sit for a little bit longer, watching the people in the camp trickle around as they got ready for the sun to set and started to get up to grab dinner or to go for seconds. Daryl had a helping in his hand and he was devouring it like it was his first meal in weeks, shoveling spoonfuls of meat into his mouth and tipping the bowl to slurp up the thick broth of the stew. You loved a healthy appetite on a man, you bet he licked his plate clean. Maybe he’d lick your plate clean, so to speak. As you were admiring him, all sorts of thoughts (smutty ones, morbid ones, and your regular old garden variety anxieties) swam through your head now that you were alone and didn’t have Maggie to mess with and take your mind off things a little bit.

The more time you spent dwelling on just what you were thinking of doing, the more stupid and ridiculous you felt. Were you really going to go to all sorts of trouble just to keep around a man? A man you didn’t even know? Why? Because you were horny? Because you needed help around the farm? Because the world was going to hell, all sorts of worries about whether you could handle taking care of everything on your own were piling up, everyone else was already dead, and you were starting to realize you didn't want to be alone forever? All you could hear in your head now that you were by yourself was Jimmy’s patronizing father telling you to ‘settle down’ and ‘let a man do it for you’ and that just made you want to walk into the pond at the edge of your property and drown yourself.

You kicked your feet off the railing and stood up fast, stomping down the porch steps as the bench swung wildly in your wake. Hell no. Nope, you were not letting yourself get drawn in by piercing eyes that followed you around the farm, pining for comfort just because you were a little lonely and things were starting to overwhelm you. You just needed to take a breath and get a grip—or maybe the heat was just getting to you, perhaps a dip in the pond wasn’t such a bad idea.

You didn’t need help. Not from him, not from anyone. All you needed was your family and who knows how much of that you’d be left with if these people stayed any longer. You didn’t have the time, resources, or patience to care for another two people on this farm, let alone a whole separate group with two kids that you’d end up feeling like you’d have to babysit all the time considering these people were letting them wander off into the woods to get lost and get shot at (see? these people can’t even be trusted to take care of their own kids, how are you supposed to trust them with your family?). You shouldn’t have told Maggie you’d let Glen stay—you shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of letting any of them even linger. You know you’re not supposed to give a mouse a cookie. Without even realizing, you rushed out towards the edge of the property where the pond sat secluded behind a thick line of trees and bushes. Your head buzzed with a million and one thoughts, teetering between ‘to hell with everything, I can handle this on my own’ and the overwhelming pressure of everything you’d been dealing with the last few months pushing down on you like a hydraulic press.

As you got to the edge of the water you stripped all the way down knowing no one but your family even knew the place was there and left your knife on a nearby rock for easy access just in case before you ran in and dove into the water. It was refreshing and the shock of cold on your skin almost had you gasping and swallowing a mouthful of the stuff. You came back up for a second, but only to take a deep, dramatic breath before dunking yourself back under to let out the loudest scream you could manage. All of it was swallowed up by the pond as bubbles streamed from your mouth and your throat grew raw from the strain of it. It felt good to let it out, all the worrying, all the frustration, all the fear… It left you feeling comfortably empty, like the deep, heavy, knot-like burden that had settled on top of your lungs had been detangled and pulled free from your chest. As you held yourself under the surface, you could feel your thoughts quiet for a moment, letting the water surround you and calm you, as if none of your problems could touch you so long as you remained there. You came up, taking in a deep breath and pushing your wet hair out of your face. This was nice; just the cool down you needed. Honestly, you didn’t know where the hell your head had been. Maybe Maggie was right and you were just desperate to get laid after being alone so long. Yes, sure, it would be nice to have a man with Daryl’s…assets around, but you did not need him—and he certainly wasn’t worth throwing yourself at in an attempt to have him work around the farm for you, that was practically prostitution. In what direction, you weren’t even sure. You’d gotten by just fine up until now, you could continue to do it on your own, right? And Maggie was tough and smart. She didn’t need someone babysitting her on runs.

Yeah. There was no need to look for someone to do things for you or worry about ‘what if’s’. You leaned back and let yourself float around the pond, feeling the ripples and waves of your movements make the water sway around you. You hummed to yourself a little bit, a lullaby you used to sing to Beth when she was little, letting it wash over you and calm your nerves like the water had... that lasted all of a second before your hamster wheel started spinning again and you realized that once you left the pond all your problems would still be there, waiting for you to solve them all by yourself, and you could feel your stress start to well back up around you and make it so you felt you couldn’t breathe—like you were still under the surface, gasping in pond water.

What were you thinking, you couldn’t do this! You were confident before the world shit the bed because Shawn was there to help you with the hard things and to fix the machines when they broke down or made funny noises. Now he was gone and all you could do was worry about what you’d do if the hay baler broke down or the feed mill went kablooey. You regretted not taking the time to learn basic mechanics from him.

You regretted so many things when it came to him and Annette. You wished you hadn’t been so hostile and suspicious when they first came to live with you. You were so certain Annette was trying to replace your mom. Every time she talked about getting new drapes to replace the moth-eaten ones in the dining room or mentioned buying a new couch because the springs were practically poking through the cushions on the old one in the living room you’d snap at her like she was trying to redecorate the whole place and remove every whisper and trace of your mom you had left. You also wished you hadn’t made Shawn’s life a living hell for the whole first year he was living with you, paranoid that his eagerness to help you on the farm was some ploy to steal it out from under you. They just wanted to be family.

You also regretted the way you treated Maggie growing up. You’d been so awful to her, too. You were her big sister and she wanted to be just like you, so of course she’d go through your room and pester you all day long and cling to your pant legs. You’d give anything to go back and appreciate those days now. Back then the ten year age gap was practically a chasm—you didn’t want a little six year old coming around and bugging you, especially when your mom was so sick. It also didn’t help that your father didn’t bother trying to get sober until she was born, there was resentment about that, too. None of that was her fault but you still took it out on her and it became a struggle later down the line when Shawn stepped in and tried to play big brother and you got all territorial. It was so hard trying to form a closer bond with her after she’d grown distant and defensive. Teen Maggie didn’t want anything from you except apparently your wardrobe and your jewelry. You got through to her eventually, but you knew she was still hesitant, even now, to come to you when she needed something and you would have had so much more time with her—with all of them—if only you didn’t waste so much of it shutting out the people you should have been close with. Now Shawn and Annette were gone and you worried every time Maggie left for supplies that watching her ride off would be the last time you ever saw her.

Then there was Beth; you babied her, you knew it. You just didn’t want her to go through what Maggie went through with you. You never wanted her to doubt how loved she was. She humored you about it but you worried—you worried because like it or not, she’d be a woman soon and you didn’t want her to resent you or put distance between you if you continued to treat her like a child who had to have her hand held so she didn’t wander into traffic. You also didn’t want her to depend too much on you and neglect to learn how to stand up on her own. What if the day came where you weren’t around to help her anymore and she was left completely bereft?

You used to have someone to bounce your worries and regrets off of—someone who always lent an understanding ear and a reassuring presence. He always assured you he’d be there whenever you needed guidance and that you could call on him if it ever got to be too much and you needed help. That someone was Otis, but now he’s gone, too and it’s all that douche-canoe deputy’s fault, you just know it.

The vacant, serial killer stare he had when he came back that night was all you’d needed to see to be sure. He was spewing some bullshit story about how Otis had valiantly given his life to make sure Hero Guy Shane made it back safe with Carl’s medical supplies and the whole time he was clutching Otis’s rifle with white knuckles. You’d yanked the gun out of his hands so violently that night, barely even hearing the crap he was trying to sell you. You didn’t want the details, all that mattered to you was that Otis was gone. The man who taught you to hunt; to shoot rifles and bows against your father’s wishes. Otis was the man who practically raised you when your dad was fighting the bottle and losing and your mom was too busy with baby Maggie to pay attention to where you were or what you were doing at any given time. He was the best person you ever knew and now he was just…gone. He was gone and Shane was still kicking around—Oh, but you’re the bad guy because you want them to leave.

Before you even knew it you were crying. You didn’t think you’d shed a single tear since the dead started walking, way too determined to be the solid foundation your family needed to keep from sinking into the ground. You wondered if David felt this overwhelming sense of dread when he prepared to fight Goliath. Did he worry the task no one else dared to tackle would be not only his undoing, but the undoing of everyone he’d ever known and loved if he made a mistake or cracked under the pressure? You wondered if he turned to anyone for comfort or strength or if he had carried the burden entirely on his own shoulders. If he did, he must have been as terribly lonely as you were, even when surrounded by his loved ones.

As you wiped at your tears you heard a rustling in the brush to your right. You were suddenly stiff, straining to hear what it was. It sounded like footsteps—human footsteps. You waded through the water as quietly as you could, trying to get to your knife before whatever it was got to you. Just as you reached the rock it was resting on Daryl burst through the treeline, crossbow in hand. You gasped and sank down into the water to cover yourself better. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me! What the hell are you doin’ out here?” you found yourself shrieking.

He tensed at the sound of your movement and your words, instinctively pointing his crossbow in your direction before recognizing you and putting it down in a huff. “Saw you stormin’ down here by yourself. Wanted to… I don’t know, see if you were alright.” He shook his head and you could hear him muttering ‘ridiculous’ to himself under his breath. You hastily rubbed at your eyes, desperately hoping that it just looked like you had water droplets on your face. “What the hell are you doin’?” he challenged, tossing your question back at you.

You gave a sarcastic sneer, feeling defensive considering he caught you with your pants down—or more accurately, with your pants off—and crying in a pond. “I’m filing my fucking taxes,” you told him snottily.

“Right,” He snorted, “It’s a waste of time worryin’ for you, nothin’s gonna getcha. You’ll just bite the head off anything that gets anywhere near you.” You could already feel your composure slip as Daryl took your attention, the little verbal sparring match providing a good outlet to let off steam. He turned like he was going to walk off and leave you for a moment, but then he whipped back around and took a few steps towards you, frustrations seemingly renewed. “D’you know how stupid it is wandering off alone? Especially to do somethin’ like this?” He gestured first towards your clothes then at you, pink dusting his cheeks that you could mistake for anger or heat from the setting sun if you didn’t know better by now. “The hell’s your problem, anyway?”

“My problem?” You repeat incredulously, your frustration bubbling up again. You were going to lash out. Hard. Since he wanted to know so bad, you’d be happy to lay it out for him. He was a big boy, you were sure he could handle it just fine. “You’re my fucking problem!”

“Yeah?” He challenged, angry and huffy, but clearly excited that you were picking a fight—seemingly wanting one himself. Careful what you wish for, tough guy.

“Yeah!” You doubled down, standing up from the water to start your hissy fit in earnest, feeling a conflicted sort of thrill when you saw Daryl’s eyes go wide, pupils dilating as he realized you were completely naked and storming out of the water towards him. “I see you starin’ at me all day long, do you think you’re slick? You ever gonna do somethin’ about it? Shit or get off the pot, buddy!” You see him lick his lips, see his eyes narrow, see him take another step towards you, but you’re not done. This had been building up for a while and you sure as fuck weren’t going to dump it on your little sisters, the whole reason you got this bad in the first place was because you were trying to shield them from all the shit you’d been slogging through. “But that’s not all, no! No, If that’s not enough, I have to reinforce all my well lids to make sure I don’t have any more corpses fallin’ in ‘em and I have to keep check of all my livestock ‘cause God only knows if they’ve drank any of the contaminated water and gotten sick! If they did come in contact but aren’t showin’ symptoms and then we eat the tainted meat—then what?” Daryl takes a step back, nostrils suddenly flaring as you come up to get in his face, finger poking into his chest roughly as you offloaded all the things that had been piling up. This was clearly more than he’d bargained for, but he’d just have to deal with it. “Plus now I’ve got those…freeloaders lookin’ at me like I’m killin’ them with my bare hands just ‘cause I don’t wanna give them a handout and half my land! The last time we had strangers on our property it ended with them offering to help my step-brother mend our fences and then turnin’ tail and leavin’ him to be torn to shreds when he got his foot stuck under the wheel of a tractor and one of those—those corpses made its way onto the property and when we tried to bury him, he came back an’ bit my step-mom! Those people at least had the decency to wait a day before they made me lose a family member; not even eight hours after your people came they killed my fuckin’ farmhand! Speakin’ of which, now that Otis is gone my workload is twice as high because I’m the only one who can do a lot of the hard stuff! Daddy’s too old, it’s too labor-intensive for Patricia, Beth and Jimmy are too young, and Maggie…she went to college because she wanted to do somethin’ else with her life. She shouldn’t have to work the combine harvester or heft the feed bags or fix the fences.”

Tears were prickling your eyes again and you could hear your voice starting to falter, but you couldn’t stop. It was like you were projectile word vomiting all over the poor guy. The hand that had been prodding him began to ball up his shirt in your fist instead, looking for something solid to grab onto so you wouldn’t sink into the mud below your feet under the weight of your self-appointed burdens. Your voice grew softer, less angry and more defeated as you went. “If that wasn’t bad enough, we’re runnin’ out of gas for the generators, Maggie has to keep riskin’ her life going into town for supplies, Daddy’s stubbornly still tryin’ to work the fields and makin’ me think he doesn’t trust me to actually handle things and I’m startin’ to think he’s right not to. To top it all off, the hay baler has been makin’ this grinding noise that’s drivin’ me crazy! I don’t know how to fix it! Shawn knew how to fix it…” Your voice failed you after that, tears spilling over. You gave up on trying to keep some semblance of dignity in front of this guy, suddenly realizing what it was you had done, quite literally showing your bare ass and making yourself more vulnerable with a complete stranger than you’ve ever been with anyone. “He kept…buggin’ me to watch him do it—to learn, but… I never saw the point. I thought he’d always be there to do it for me.” You finished out with a sob.

“So…” You heard Daryl’s voice say gruffly and with caution as if he was walking barefoot on a floor covered in mousetraps, “your solution to all of that was to get naked and go swimmin’ in a duck pond?”

You huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, forehead now resting against his chest next to your balled-up fist as you realized you felt lighter than you had in years after getting all that off your chest. “Guess so.”

“That work?”

“For like a second,” you admitted, “The cold water cleared my head a little. It was like puttin’ a band-aid on a burst pipe.”

A hand came to rest on your shoulder, feather light and awkward like he was worried you might turn and bite him if he wasn’t careful; a fair assumption. “I dunno about a lot of that shit, but…I can take a look at the baler, sounds like it just needs an oil change and maybe its gears cleaned.”

Everyone you’d ever depended on for one reason or another had either disappointed you to the point you refused to do it again even after they’d proven they wouldn’t let you down anymore, or they’d died. You knew the score, so why the hell did his offer make you feel so hopeful? Why did you still want so badly to ask him to stay on your farm after you kick his group to the curb, even after you’d just told yourself you didn’t need him and that it was stupid to want to rely on a man you just met? You kept contradicting and re-contradicting yourself over and over, your resolve on the matter of needing someone flying back and forth between either extreme like a pendulum. You were just so damn fractured these days and here he was offering to fill in some of the cracks.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely, lifting your head to stare into his eyes. They were so damn blue you could almost swim in them, just like you had in the pond behind you. You figured they’d be as good as anything to drown in. You watched them flicker down to your lips and before you even knew it you were reaching your hand into the back of his hair and yanking him down to crash his mouth to yours.

He moaned in surprise, or maybe pain as his teeth knocked against yours before finding a rhythm with you, the hand at your shoulder squeezing and then flexing against your skin while you used the grip you had on his shirt to try and tug it off his body. He stiffened up and pulled away like you burned him, and it occurred to you that maybe he didn’t actually want you the way you thought he did. Maybe you really did just piss him off. You opened your mouth to apologize, arms moving to cover yourself in embarrassment but not managing to fully complete either action before he yanked the tank top he was wearing over his head and dived back in to kiss you again, his hand coming up to grip the wrist you were about to use to cover your tits and move it out of the way so he could press you fully against his chest, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist to keep you pinned to him.

You gave in for a second, reveling in how everything about him engulfed you—his arm snaking around you and squeezing like a python, the big warm hand circling your wrist, completely cuffing around it like a shackle keeping you tethered to him, his chest a wide and expansive place to lean against and let yourself rest, tossing aside all thoughts but the ones of what you wanted to do to him—with those thoughts flooding into your head, you yanked your hand free roughly, using it to push against his chest. A frustrated grunt came out of him as he fought to keep you close, but when you used the distance to start deftly unbuckling his his belt he didn’t put up any more protest, instead putting that rough energy towards aggressively kicking off his boots, stepping on the back of his heels to pull his feet free, knowing they’d need to go if you really wanted his pants off.

Before long, he was as naked as you were, your mouth was back on his, and you were sucking his bottom lip between your teeth; using it to tug at him as you walked backward into the water. He followed blindly and eagerly, placing his hand over yours as you cupped his cheek, your other hand threading into his hair again giving you a good grasp on his head. So enthralled was he, that he didn’t even notice the smirk you pressed into the kiss as you used the new leverage he gave you to turn your body and toss him farther into the pond where he collapsed into the water with a loud splash. By the time he emerged, gasping and wiping the water off his face with a heavy shake of his head you were cackling loud and hard, just as you had when you’d teased Maggie a half-hour earlier.

“Sorry, Tiger, but I’m not doin’ anything with you ‘till you’ve had a proper bath,” you said through your laughter.

Another loud splash sounded as Daryl smacked his hand against the surface in frustration, slinging water with his angry hand gestures, “I’m gettin’ real sick of these games of yours, girl.”

You hummed, wading back towards him, hand coming up to rub against his chest then over his bicep, subtly wiping away the grime there and watching the dirt on his skin wash away where your hand touched him. “No you’re not. In fact, I think you like playin’ my games. Wouldn’t keep lettin’ me get away with it if you didn’t.”

His arms circled you again, eyes dark and piercing into you with a dangerous determination you’d been waiting to see, “I ain’t plannin’ on lettin’ you get away, period.” You’d taken the lead up until now for the most part, but now he’d taken control. His kisses were sloppy and unpracticed but so eager you couldn’t help but think it was cute. You got the sense he didn’t have a lot of experience but he’d had to have learned something from somewhere. His lips traveled from your mouth down to the column of your neck and your shoulders, the whiskers on his chin leaving a tingling tickle on your skin that had you keening into his touch. You let out a whine like you were helpless and he’d won just like he seemed to want out of you. Poor thing thought he had you under his thumb now; he had no idea he was right where you wanted him to be.

Your fingers threaded and kneaded into his hair yet again, scratching at his scalp and encouraging him to continue his attentions. It was only when he grew bold enough to bite down lightly on your skin, sucking a hickey into the place above your clavicle that you’d have to hide with high collar shirts that you decided he’d had enough fun. If he thought a little brute strength was all it took to make you roll over and show your belly he had another thing coming. You could gain the upper hand in most any situation because you weren’t afraid to fight dirty. Your hand slid down his skin, grasping his length in your hand. It was hot, velvet smooth, and thicker than you’d anticipated. It was also hard as a rock; stiff and at attention, just for you. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he’d stripped, too preoccupied with keeping him distracted so he’d follow you into the water. Now you could tell he was perfectly adequate—a decent enough length and curved in a way you knew would make you scream.

You bit your lip, anticipation making you clench down on nothing and press your legs together for a bit of friction, thankful that the sudden shock of your touch on such a responsive area of his body kept him from noticing your own reaction. He gasped, shaky and uneven like he’d been dunked in ice water (a thought that made you chuckle given the circumstances), bucking into your hand with his nose burrowing into the nape of your neck. You whined in earnest at that, the skin there being sensitive. It caused you to squeeze him in your hand and press your chest close to his, writhing in his arms at the ticklish feeling you wanted to both lean into and wriggle away from. One of his hands moved to your thigh, digging his fingers into the muscle in response to your movements. Your clit throbbed in response, the callouses on the pads of his fingers and his palm scratching over your skin pleasantly. “Quit squirmin’ for a second, damn.” he panted, breath fanning over your neck. It felt so hot but it still made you shiver.

You couldn’t take this. Your goal had been to make him snap, but you were beginning to fray your own nerves with this teasing. You moved your free hand from his hair to grab the hand at your thigh and positioned him so his fingers brushed your opening and his palm pressed against your clit. Your eyelids fluttered for a second at the contact but you didn’t dare close them; not when Daryl was pulling his head away from your neck to look at you with a dazed expression on his face, one you’d seen on a few men in the past. Usually, you thought it made them look dumb and pathetic and it’d make you feel strong to have that sort of power over them—it’d never made you feel…hungry like this before. You thought you’d feel satisfied if you could get this rough, angry, stubborn man to look at you like you’d hypnotized him the way the far and few between men of your past had but somehow you just wanted more and more, like a terrible gluttony had taken over you.

You briefly recalled that your first sexual encounter had been rather similar to this. A fleeting fling with a guy you almost gave your first time to back in highschool because his parents were out of town and he had unsupervised access to their liquor cabinet and a hot tub—you knew your father would keel over and die if he ever found out where you were and what you were doing and that was exactly why you’d went. You weren’t on the best of terms back then. You’d taken a few sips of some sickeningly sweet schnapps and then got frisky in the hot bubbling jets of the tub. His fingers had clumsily pressed at your pussy in a way that stung and whispered ‘so wet, that for me?’ probably something he’d heard in a porno that he thought was a slick and sexy line but it just made you laugh cruelly and shove him away, suddenly scared and unsure you wanted to do what you were doing. Your first and only reaction in those situations is to lash out. “We’re in a hot tub, idiot, everything’s wet. Ain’t none of it’s your doin’, I assure you." You’d stormed off to go home after that and snuck back into your bedroom completely unsatisfied. That boy had been the first in a string of disappointing suitors and pretty soon you found ways to take control and find your own methods to satisfy yourself since the men that came to court you never seemed to know how nor did they bother to stick around long enough to learn, though that’s mostly because you chased them away.

You’re no longer thinking about any of that, though, because Daryl is pressing a finger slowly into you, eyes on yours to gage your reaction and the rough, thick digit is such a welcome feeling inside you that you clamp down on it and moan low, louder than you wanted to be as you learn forward to kiss him again. You began stroking him, his skin slick in the water as you traced a vein on the underside of his dick that made him twitch in your hand. Every other time you reached the tip you’d swipe your thumb over the slit, wiping away the beads of precum and he’d grunt out low and curl his finger as he pumped it into you, eventually adding a second and intensifying the incredible stretch you felt. You knew it’d be nothing compared to what it’d feel like to have him panting above you, pushing his cock into you over and over as his abdomen flexed with the movement of his hips and the thought of it had you fluttering around him harder. Your kisses had grown sloppy and unfocused, both of your attention being diverted to other activities to the point you were just breathing heavily against each other’s mouths.

You could feel it, you were on the cusp of an orgasm, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust of his fingers. Your hand was still gripping his wrist, white knuckled like if you let go you’d float away. You used that hand to help him press his palm harder into your clit, jolting as shocks of pleasure shot up your spine at the contact. The damn jerk was so perceptive. He only needed that one little nudge to notice and suddenly with every pump of his fingers he was pressing at that button like it’d win him a prize. You could feel him practically throbbing in your hand by that point. You were so close—you were both so close.

You were rising higher with every rub of his fingers against your walls, every purposeful press of his palm, every jerking thrust into your hand, every grunt against your lips, every panted breath against the raw flesh of your neck that he’d sucked marks into, but it wasn’t until you heard him whimper—something desperate that you were certain he hadn’t meant to let out—that you reached your peak. A quiet “c’mon, please,” as he pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear was your complete undoing.

You cried out, muffling it against his shoulder as you came hard, biting into his skin and clenching down so suddenly around his fingers. Your thumb rubbed at that bulging vein you’d been tracing the whole time and he let go, slumping against you all at once. You couldn’t focus on what you were doing after that, too busy crying into the muscles in his shoulder at the way he kept his fingers curled and his palm hard pressed against you while he continued to thrust into your palm, his cum washing away in the pond water like the dirt on his skin had.

You came down gradually, catching your breath. Your ears had been fine tuned to him and the noises he made and for the first time in the last handful of minutes (ha ha, that was clever. You’ll have to torture Maggie with that one later), you could hear the woods around you again. The birds in the trees, the wind in the leaves, the sound of someone stepping on a twig just beyond the bushes… “(y/n)? You out here?” Shit, that’s Beth.

You immediately used your grip on Daryl’s wrist to yank his fingers out of you, keening at how sensitive you still were in the post-orgasm bliss and reeling at the loss of him inside you. You rested your forehead against his chest and tried to recover as you prayed to any higher power listening that you did so quickly because Beth’s footsteps were getting closer. “I-I’m here, Bethy, stay where you are!”

Her steps faltered and there was a pause before you heard her say “…why?” in an incredulous tone.

Great question, Beth, glad you asked. It’s ‘cause I just got finger-blasted into oblivion and I still got the guy who did it’s dick in my hand!

“I uh…I went skinny dippin’ in the duck pond, Beth, I’m naked.”

Your sister scoffed and you could practically feel her roll her eyes, but she did as you asked and stayed where she was. “Oh please, we’re both girls, it’s nothin’ I haven’t already seen before.”

That made you chuckle, glancing up to meet Daryl’s eye. He looked mortified, blushing bright red and thankfully too flustered to be able to say anything snarky that’d give you away. You winked at him coquettishly. “No, Bethy, you’re a girl. I’m a woman. Trust me, if you saw what I have goin’ on over here, it’d scar you for life.” You started making your way out of the water as you spoke, your hand gliding up his length one final time as you pulled away, keeping contact with him as long as you could until you could no longer reach him. His eyes scrunched shut and he must have bit his tongue to keep from making a sound, his body leaning towards your touch as it disappeared as if you were tugging on a leash attached to his hips.

“Whatever you say,” Beth said, sighing. “Daddy just told me to come get you ‘cause Patricia's got dinner ready. It’s lasagna made with that venison Daryl brought back the other day.” She paused again before blurting out “hold on, is he over there with you?” A witch. She’s a witch!

You were so startled by her accusation you stumbled in your already frantic scramble to get your clothes back on, tripping yourself on the leg of your shorts and almost falling to your knees as you struggled to get the denim up the wet skin of your thighs. “No…”

“That ‘no’ sounds like a yes.” Beth let out a teasing giggle only a little sister who caught their big sister doing something she shouldn’t be can produce. “Tell him Rick’s lookin’ for him and he better hurry up and put some clothes on, ‘cause he was gonna search over here next.”

You scrunched your eyes closed in mortification as you heard Daryl start hastily making his way out of the water behind you, the warning Beth gave seeming to jumpstart his body into action. “Thank you, Beth,” you grit out in embarrassment.

She began to walk away, her footsteps starting up again as she left for the house. “So much for waitin’ and windin’ him up first. Guess he’s as easy to tease as you said.” Her muttered words were not quite quiet enough to not be heard. You were going to kill her.

“Thank you, Beth,” You repeated with emphasis, imploring her to shut up. You looked over at Daryl who was doing everything he could to reach for his shirt without turning his back to you, an awkward little action that almost distracted you from the way Beth’s grumbling had him whipping his head up to glare at you with his nostrils flared like you’d made a fool of him again. The fire in his eyes was really something else, he seemed like he wanted to tackle you into the mud and pin you down. For a second you felt a bit like a prey animal and the thrill of it made you want to prod the bear some more. In your panic to get your clothes on you’d completely missed the step of putting your underwear back on, skipping straight to your jean shorts. You picked them up as they sat prim and proper on top of your tank top and were glad they were at least one of your cute pairs. You blew him a kiss and tossed them into the crumpled heap of his pants splayed out on top of his boots and finished getting dressed quickly so you could scamper off before his realization that he’d quite literally played right into your hand the whole time blew up in your face, heart pounding like a jackhammer in a way you’d never felt before.

This was exciting. This was new! You suddenly felt like all the problems you’d worried would ambush you as soon as you left the pond weren’t so unmanageable. You were fairly confident you’d just bagged yourself a new farmhand, afterall—one who could keep your equipment from breaking down.

You couldn’t wait for your next chance to play a game with your new favorite toy, you’d make sure to give him a prize worth winning.

#walking dead x reader

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#walking dead x reader