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Between all the girls his brother brought home and his fathers constant barrage of insults. He finds it hard to believe that someone like him, a redneck with a loose accent, little-to-no dressing sense, living on the outskirts of the city would be considered someone...hot.
He didn't have a mother to call him handsome. No random aunt saying he was gonna 'break hearts one day'.
No girls fawning over him at the public school that he used to skip most days.
So when you sit on his lap, hands connected at the base of his neck, tickling him the littlest bit, and whisper in his ear "my pretty boy..."
He decides then and there that he is indeed not "hot".
He's pretty. Your pretty, pretty boy.
A/n: proud member of the daryl gets no bitches club. He's such a cutie i love him
Tysm for reading, as always, reblogs are the heart of tumblr, if you liked this drabble, a reblog would mean the world to me.
a knock on your door wasn't uncommon, but one in the dead of night was confusing. you were half asleep, hoping it would just go away. you’d figure it out in the morning if it was important. the knocks, however, persisted for much longer than expected. when you finally went to answer it, though, they had stopped, and you swung open the door to look.
daryl dixon was pissing in your yard. grumbling to himself, he swayed while he peed in your bushes. once he realized you had seen him, he quickly tucked himself away and cleared his throat, struggling to stay balanced. "y'didn't answer the door, i had t'piss," he slurred.
you didn't look impressed, but quickly realized he was drunk. so, instead of yelling at him to scram and leave you alone, you let the pathetic man in your house. sitting him down at the center island, you got to work grabbing him some water and bread. he felt out of place, being taken care of like this. but god, he loved being in your home. it smelled like you, made him warm and floaty. he liked your hands, small and soft, grabbing him a glass. too drunk to think, daryl’s lips moved before his brain did, and he made a fool of himself.
"you smell good," he mumbled. "y'look nice. thanks fer this. sorry i pissed in yer yard."
you sighed, tired eyes focused on getting daryl water. a shake of your head, and you shoved it in his palm. “slow sips. if you vomit on my carpet, i’m makin’ you lick it up.”
“yes, ma’am,” daryl muttered, head down in shame.
watching him take small sips begrudgingly, you kept your arms folded. “you piss on my daisies?” you asked flatly.
daryl paused, blinking slow. he didn’t fucking know. had no idea. he barely remembered doing it. a shrug.
you sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose, before making an executive decision to walk over and grab the glass. you examined his face, glassy eyes, the kicked puppy frown.
“you’re a messy drunk,” you murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek.
daryl flinched, before leaning into it, “yeah… i know.”
“so why’re you drunk?”
“missed you.”
“that’s not an answer.”
“it is…” daryl chewed the inside of his cheek. “was jus’… thinkin’. about’cha. wanted to… see you.”
“you drank before you got here, though,” you clarified, hand falling from his face. “so what was up before?”
daryl didn’t answer. instead, he leaned in, and let his forehead rest on your shoulder. you could’ve pried it out of him, but you couldn’t help wrapping your arms around him. “you’re an idiot,” you whispered.
“you smell nice,” daryl mumbled.
“you mentioned that,” you rolled your eyes.
a/n: here have this while i spiral into oblivion. thanks for your patience & support as always. mwah.
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ㅤׂ࣮⟢ 𝆬 ㅤ︐𝐜.𝐰 ∗ 𓂃 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 :: talks of sex :: oral :: marking :: some rough sex :: est. rel .
𝓭𝐚𝐫𝐲𝓵 ’s not big on words during sex, he’s more likely to let out some grunts and low moans from time to time paired with heavy pants and breathing, rather than saying dirty things to you. occasionally, he’ll say “fuck… c’mere” or “that’s it, baby”. but filth growled in your ear would be rare. he shows everything through touch instead.
touch starved boy but hesitant about it. 𝓭𝐚𝐫𝐲𝓵 spent most of his life thinking he was unworthy of any kind of affection, so early on he’d be careful with you, scared that maybe you’ll change your mind. though once he trusts you completely, he becomes greedy. big, sturdy fingers caressing everywhere—gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, sliding up your thighs, dipping under the waistband of your pants.
loves, loves, loves skin-on-skin contact and pinning you down. therefore, missionary and prone bone are his favourites cause he can cover you completely, cage you in with his body and watch your face/ass depending on which one you’re doing. 𝓭𝐚𝐫𝐲𝓵 ’s strong as hell from years of survival and he makes good use of it. pressing you into the mattress (or the ground, or the hood of a car) while he fucks you and leaves marks and bites all the way down your spine.
pussy eater through and through. he’s obsessed with eating you out and would stay down there all day if you didn't push his head away the moment your legs start shaking and your core’s raw from overstimulation. 𝓭𝐚𝐫𝐲𝓵 enjoys giving head more than receiving, but definitely won’t deny the opportunity to have your warm mouth wrapped around his dick if you offer.
aftercare with him is surprisingly sweet. he may not be into pillow talk, but he’ll pull you against his chest, snuggling you up to his side until you’re comfy enough to his eyes and murmur stuff like “ya good?” , “didn’t hurt ya, did i?” he’ll share his cigarettes with you after and let you trace his scars without getting tense about it anymore.
i don’t really think 𝓭𝐚𝐫𝐲𝓵 ’s too much of a perv. he’s more vanilla to me, so most of your encounters have lots of lazy kisses and eye contact. his movements would be slow and deep, and his forehead would often be pressed to yours or your neck.
Summary: You get way too much unwanted attention from Shane. He takes it too far - but the man you harbour feelings for is here to put the former police man in his place.
Warnings: Trigger warning! Shane – he's a huge warning here, lots of swear words and cussing, angst? Shane trying to get in Reader's pants without her wanting it, harassment, Shane getting kinda physical, PROTECTIVE!DARYL, fluff, idiots in love, mentions of Daryl's abusive past, a fight, blood, mentions of walkers
Set in Season 2!
Word Count: 3,7k
a/n: Woke up one morning a few days - weeks? ago, had this idea and brain was like: Write that down. So, I did. Turns out that this is probably one of my favourite stories I ever wrote.
Quiet Love (part 2)
°☆• discover more... •☆°
"Ya been sittin' here 'n just starin' at me fer fuckin' forever. Wha' is it? Know there's sum'thin' ya wanna talk about." You blinked; eyes lifting to look at Daryl sitting across from you. Only the small campfire between the both of you. He was occupied with carving some kind of spear or more likely a spit out of a thicker branch to grill the fish he had angled in the river earlier.
Ever since the archer had shut himself off quite a little from the group - from the farm, and camped outside of the Greene property, you found yourself way more often out here than close to the others as well.
Logically.
Yes, you missed Daryl and his presence.
Yes, you enjoyed his company more than probably everyone else.
Yes, you felt safer with him than with the group.
And yes, you might've caught feelings for the 'rough and tough' redneck.
However, the main reason you spent most of the time up here was another. The one that got you staring rather absentmindedly at the man sitting across from you...
You swallowed at Daryl's words; taking a deep breath and just watched him work the branch with his knife for another moment before you finally spoke up - for the first time since you came here. "It's just... Shane..." As the name of the former cop left your lips, Daryl froze in his movements - knife stopping mid slice. His blue eyes snapped up to meet yours; darkened, dangerous and almost angry - not at you, though. "Tha' asshole say sum'thin' to ya again?" Daryl asked with a deep growl.
It was no secret that the archer didn't really like Shane. He honestly never did. The little respect he had for him flew right out of the window after his first proper search for Sophia. Shane was aggressive, acted rash and the only ones he really cared about were Carl and Lori. The others? He didn't give a shit. Just like about Otis. Daryl was almost sure he sacrificed him at that school. He would sacrifice everyone for 'his family' - even his best friend. Daryl wasn't stupid. He was good at reading people. Dale knew it as well.
"Did he touch ya?" He questioned further; voice dropping another octave. You shook your head. "N-No, no... Not... yet. He just..." "Those stupid comments 'n all tha' shit?" You nodded.
Daryl knew. You had often told him about this. Silent complaints. Seeking help. Despite Shane's quite 'obvious' undying love for Lori, he liked to hit on other women. Especially you - as it seemed. He had often attempted to try and get inside your pants. It had started 'harmless'. Little comments here and there. Flirtations. Talks. His intentions had been clear right away - and you had told him 'No' from the very start. Shane wasn't the man you craved or wanted physical touch with.
Things escalated more and more - and now that Daryl wasn't around the farm anymore to send Shane a threatening glare from time to time, it seemed like the former police man used this current situation to his 'advantage'.
"Not just comments anymore, though... He... He often tries to... corner me. Like... against a wall, o-or tree, o-or even the henhouse yesterday as I got eggs for Patricia to cook. I feel like it gets w-worse and..." You paused for a heartbeat to swallow hard; fingers fumbling nervously. "...I don't know how, uh, long I'll be able to... escape this."
Daryl got what you meant. Of course, he did. His jaw ticked; muscles tightening. "Tha' son of a bitch," he literally growled; one hand squeezing the branch tighter - before he threw the piece of wood and his knife to the grassy ground beside him. Within the blink of an eye he was on his feet. "Gonna tell tha' piece 'a shit a few words. Ask 'im if he's deaf or jus' stupid 'cause he ain't understanding what 'No' means," he grumbles; already starting to march away before you could even react or speak up. "Yer gonna stay here. Keep an eye on tha' fire."
All you could do was watch him stomp away and mumble a quiet "'Kay."; eyes following him. You didn't intend to stop him. Daryl was your safe space. The only one - besides probably Dale who had the balls to confront him. And you wanted this shit to end. Therefore, you let Daryl do his thing. You just hoped it wasn't going to escalate. Both men with a temper and not the longest fuse. Both men hot-headed.
So, you sat there - at Daryl's little campfire. A little shaken up and nervous, but kept an eye on the fire like he told you. Watching the flames dance in the warm late summer air with the slowly darkening sky above you had something utterly calming. Almost hypnotic. Yet, your mind stayed sharp. You weren't behind safe walls or fences... A geek could stumble across here anytime.
You didn't know exactly how much time passed before you saw Daryl approaching the little camp again, but it certainly wasn't that much. Your eyes scanned him from tip to toe as soon as you recognised his frame in the distance; checking if he was okay. It seemed like it.
Wordlessly, but with a signature grunt, the archer sat across from you again and picked up his task where he left off.
You blinked; eyes still on him for another quiet moment. That was is? No words, just a grunt?
"What, uh, did he say?" You asked after another beat of silence; carefully and in a quieter voice than usual. Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "Ain't much. Told him 't keep his wandering hands off 'a ya. Gave 'im a last warning 'n left."
You knew exactly that Daryl was most likely describing this confrontation more friendly than it actually played out; not wanting to put you through this shit.
"Okay," you mumbled and offered him a soft smile. "Thank you."
Daryl being Daryl, said nothing in return and just gave you a nod and another grunt.
Silence spread between you two then. It wasn't uncomfortable or unpleasant, just thoughtful but actually nice. Most of the times, you didn't need words to communicate with Daryl anyway. You got his body language; could read him most of the times - even if you didn't know why. The chemistry between the both of you just seemed to click.
He handed you the spear he just carved, broke another branch over his knee and carved another spear. You watched him work; his survival skills remarkable. You didn't know him long but you did know that he was made for this world. Probably one of the few people for whom the apocalypse was a blessing.
Once he was done, he handed you one of the gutted fishes he had caught.
Dinner.
He always looked out for you. Silently. Made sure you ate enough, got weapons on you and so on. It never was a huge gesture or words. Small things. Quiet things. That's how he showed you he cared. His love language.
Together, you cooked the fishes over the fire and ate together; with the sun sinking deeper and deeper beyond the horizon.
"Daryl?" You spoke his name quietly; still watching the dying flames dance and flicker - casting shadows on his handsome features. The archer's eyes snapped up to focus on you again - a silent answer.
"Can I... sleep with you tonight?"
His blue orbs widened to the size of plates - and you realized how easy it was to misunderstand the sentence you just dropped.
"I-I mean in your tent! Here! Not alone at the camp w-with the others!" You instantly corrected; kinda backtracking.
Nevertheless, the damage was done - at least for Daryl. He stood up quickly and turned his back to you; occupying himself with anything - just so that his flustered self didn't have to look into your eyes at the moment. He was blushing. Hard.
You silently watched him move across his camp; 'cleaning' up and avoiding eye contact. Shit, you thought. I screwed it up. Your brain already came up with a trillion different apologies; wanting to repair what you had destroyed - but then...
"Ya comin' or wha'?"
You blinked and looked up at Daryl again; seeing how he held back the flap of his tent for you to crawl in. A smile crossed your face and you stood up; stepping past the dying campfire and inside the tent. "Thought I crossed a border. Thought I was making you uncomfortable. Don't want that. Ever." You received a low grunt in return, followed by the sound of the zipper being shut before he turned on his knees to face you again - head ducked, chewing nervously on the pad of his thumb and shrugged his shoulder. "Didn't say tha'...," the archer retorted in a low, quiet voice.
You just gave him another soft smile; deciding to drop this 'topic' before you'd really make him feel uncomfortable. "'Kay. Thanks for letting me sleep here. I just... I don't wanna see Shane again today or cross his path." The man across you gave you an understanding nod. He got it. Of course, he did.
You slept way better that night than any night before; knowing that no geek and no Shane could harm you here. You were at the safest place on this world - with Daryl. Not yet in his arms, but that would hopefully change someday...
Barely a few days later - on another quite hot evening in late summer, Daryl made his way through the high grass of the meadow to reach the Greene farm. He wanted to check in on Carol - subtly, of course. He cared about her a lot as well - but he'd never admit that out loud.
His senses were sharpened, of course. They always were nowadays; blue eyes scanning is surroundings, one hand resting on the knife attached to his belt. No crossbow, but never unarmed.
Daryl was still a few yards from campsite when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He shifted his gaze. Two frames behind - or well, for him in front of the barn. He stopped; alerted and narrowed his eyes a bit with his hand on his forehead to shield his blues from the sinking sun. No walkers, that was certain.
But who then?
His feet picked up their task again and brought him forward. The closer he got, the clearer the shapes became - and once he recognised the people, his attention got drawn even more... He could clearly make out your frame - and a bigger one. Shaved head, no beard, tall and broad. Shane - and the archer's temper kicked in. Steps quickening.
He analyzed the scene playing out in front of his eyes and quickly realised what was happening; connecting the dots. You and Shane were clearly arguing - and he had gotten physical; hands on your wrists. He had cornered you again; shoven back against the wooden wall of the barn.
A huge wave of anger rolled over the archer. He had told Shane - warned him, and now he had enough.
His pace quickened again. By now he was running the last few yards separating him from you and the former policeman; hopping over the fences and any other obstacle in his way. Daryl was determined - and before Shane could even turn around to see what was awaiting him, he got roughly pulled back from the archer - away from you.
Your fearful eyes met Daryl's - and he could visibly see how you instantly relaxed at least a little; pure thankfulness and relief mirrored in your Y/E/C orbs.
The moment you and the archer shared, gave Shane just enough time to recover... "What the hell, man?!" He barked at Daryl - who instantly instinctively changed his position to stand in front of you like a human protective shield. "What do ya think you're doing, huh?" Shane continued; glaring. "Could ask ya the same," Daryl growled back. You stayed silent; too shaken up to speak. This time was very close... "Told ya to leave 'er alone." Shane huffed out a laugh. "You ain't her boyfriend, man."
Daryl scoffed. What a ridiculous thing to say... As if this would have to do anything at all with that. Bad attempt at talking his pathetic ass outta this, the archer thought.
"Ain't hafta be her boyfriend 't know how 't treat 'n respect a woman right and know wha' a fuckin' 'no' means."
Shane scoffed as well and ran a hand over his bald shaved head.
"No, huh? You don't see how she's lookin' at me. Playin' all coy and shy every time I make a move but I know she wants me."
Daryl shook his head; knowing exactly that this was nothing but delusion and wishful thinking. You wouldn't have come to him so many times - desperate and afraid; literally fleeing from campsite if you would really want this, too.
"She dun wanna have yer dick. She ain't Lori, asshole - or are ya delusional? Can't tell the difference anymore 'cause yer obsessed."
That was it. The moment things were going to escalate between those two hot-heads. Daryl knew it. Shane knew it. And you knew it as well.
The former police man huffed out another laugh; ran his hand over his head again - before he lunged at Daryl. The archer - a 'professional' when it came to brawls - ducked Shane's attempt and started an attack himself. His fist connected with his jaw; sending him tumbling back a few steps.
Daryl did that a lot in his past. Brawling. Fighting. Especially with a brother like Merle and an abusive father. He knew how to fight.
Shane needed a short moment to recover; blood dripping from his lip where it split due to the impact. A look that could kill darted across his face, before he lunged at Daryl again.
And you? You just watched; still frozen in place like a frightened bunny. You didn't know what to do. Intervening could end painful - and words wouldn't stop them.
The noise of the fight, though, attracted the attention of the other group members. It didn't take long for most of them to come running over to the barn as well; the men instantly working to separate Shane and Daryl.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Yelled Rick; pulling his 'best friend' together away together with T-Dog. Glenn and Dale working on Daryl. "What is going on here, huh?!" Rick asked - eyeing his friend and the archer, as they were finally apart; everyone panting hard.
Daryl ripped himself free from Glenn's and Dale's grasp to wipe his bloody hand on his shirt with the torn off sleeves; spitting out a little blood. "Warned ya. Told ya I was gonna beat yer ass into the ground if ya touchin' 'er again!" He growled at Shane; pointing at him. Rick instantly connected the dots; realising that this must be about you. His eyes found you - still a little shaken up. "Y/N?" Rick's voice grabbed your attention. "Can you tell me what's been goin' on here?"
You swallowed hard and opened your mouth to voice what - or well, who, has been bothering you since weeks - but then you felt it... The gazes of the others. All group members had their eyes on you - except Daryl, who kept on glaring at Shane. Sure, most of these gazes were sympathetic and concerned, but for you highly discomforting. You felt cornered again - in a different way.
"I-I-I..." You started; stammering and overwhelmed. Your body told you to run. To escape this situation. So, you did. "S-Sorry," was all you said before you turned your back and fled.
Daryl fought the urge to follow you - although that he knew you probably needed a moment alone. First, he had to step up for you, though. And he did - without hesitation. "Been hittin' on Y/N. Constantly cornerin' her 'n tryin' to get inside 'er pants," Daryl growled; explaining what he had been trying to protect you from. Rick turned to his best friend. "Shane? That the truth?" The accused man huffed out another laugh and shook his head. "C'mon, man. You know that I'd never do that." "Bullshit!" Daryl cut in immediately. "Ya'd take advantage 'a 'er without even thinkin' twice. Prolly already would've if it wasn't fer me!" The archer wanted to take a step closer, but got instantly held back by Glenn and Dale.
Rick's eyes wandered again from Daryl to Shane, while the others just held their breaths; shocked and probably too afraid to just cut into this conflict without having witnessed anything.
At the look the police officer threw his former colleague, he once again ran a head over his shaved head. "Really, Rick? You're gonna believe this obscure redneck more than me?" Rick clenched his jaw. "No, I didn't say that, Shane. I'm just tryin' to understand both sides and-"
Daryl had already heard enough again. This was pointless. Like he said before... This group was broken. Another reason why he had closed himself off.
"This shit's pointless," the archer cut the leader off mid-sentence and just started to stomp away; exiting the scene as well - but not without having a last few words for Shane. "Next time ya try anythin', it ain't gonna stay with jus' a fat lip." He threw another warning/threat Shane's way - hoping that he finally learned his lesson now. Especially now that the others caught wind of this as well.
The archer made his way back to his little camp; holding out for you, though. He didn't see you somewhere outside the farm - what calmed him; knowing that you were most likely out of danger and somewhere safe. The bright and shiny moon had replaced the sun by now almost entirely as Daryl zipped open the flap of his tent. With a grunt he crawled inside - only to find nobody else than you sitting on his bedroll; hugging your knees to your chest and with dried tears on your cheeks.
"Y/N." His name rolled so effortlessly over his lips; making you shiver - in a good way. "S-Sorry... I didn't know where to go, s-so I just came here..." You said; sniveling. Daryl shrugged his shoulders and turned again to zip the tent shut. "'S a'right. I dun mind." You gave him a soft smile and a thankful look. He nodded in return and just... looked at you for another moment, before he shuffled awkwardly and started to 'clean up' a little. A.k.a making space for you so you could stay the night. Daryl wasn't sure what to do. If he should ask how you were or not. If you needed something or not. He didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. He was very uncertain, so he rather occupied himself with something else than letting you know.
You watched the archer 'work' for a few moments in silence, until your gaze landed coincidentally on his hands. With shock you realised that he was hurt. His knuckles were stained with blood. Some dried, but still seeping a little. "Daryl..." You spoke his name, catching instantly his attention. His head snapped up to face you.
"Yah?"
You moved, inched slowly closer to him. "Y-You're bleeding..." You whispered and cautiously reached for his hurt hand to inspect the damage - but giving him enough time to pull his hand away in case he didn't want the touch. He didn't. The archer was like rooted to the ground; holding his breath as your gentle fingers brushed his skin.
Physical touch wasn't easy for him - after all the bullshit he had been through in his childhood and youth. He had learned the physical contact mostly caused pain. But this... This was different. So fucking different from what he knew.
"Y-You split your knuckles... Do you have a first aid kit or something? Anything to treat the wounds?" Daryl blinked; ripped out of his thoughts. His blues met your Y/E/C. "Yeah, over-" His voice cracked. He tried again. "Over there." You followed the jut of his hand, gently let go of his hand to gather the first aid kit, only to return a few moments later to hold his hand again. "Sit. L-Let me help you."
Wordlessy, the man sat down on the bedroll beside you and letting you treat his split knuckles. And admittedly, Daryl had a hard time coping with this situation. Coping with so much... tenderness and gentleness. It was unknown territory - but it felt... right.
"There we go..." You said; tying the bandage around his hand, then shook your head. "Didn't want you to get hurt because of me..." You added in a quiet voice; blaming Shane but also yourself.
Daryl instantly shook his head; getting his shit together again. "Ain't yer fault. Asshole had it comin'. Deserved it. This ain't nothing," he gestured at his knuckles. "Gonna heal quickly. Had worse."
You sighed, "Yes, but... I don't know. Feeling guilty anyways." and without thinking leaned your head against his shoulder; arms and thighs brushing. You and Daryl had been close - but never this close before.
The archer froze once again; brain going blank for at least a solid minute as he tried to comprehend what was going on.
His skin was warm; biceps slightly sweaty but radiating nothing but warmth and comfort. Your eyes slipped shut. This felt so right. You never wanted to leave Daryl's side. Since he didn't shove you away, you thought he felt the same - or at least similar. Nevertheless remained a quiet voice of doubt.
But then something you couldn't quite foresee happened... Slowly, quietly, the archer wrapped his arm around your shoulders; big, work worn hand resting gently on your upper arm. The 'sudden' touch sent another shiver down your spine.
"Ya okay?" His voice deep and concerned, yet soft and caring. You started to smile and nodded, before you shyly reached for his free hand to loosely intertwine your fingers. "Now I am."
