(18+)

𝑠𝜏𝑢𝜌𝜄𝜕 (18+) ᯓ★

summary: after you didn't listen to daryl during a run, causing you to almost die, daryl's concern turned into anger, which led to a high-tension argument with a happy ending. content: twd blood and gore, walkers, implications of suicide, smut (oral m receiving, fingering, unprotected p in v, breeding :)), i don't know how to do warnings. pairing: daryl dixon x fem! reader. setting: prison era. ─ i actually don't hc daryl as rough or very dominant in bed but it's fun to write different things every once in a while. enjoy!

maggie and glenn had spotted an abandoned apartment complex some miles from the prison that you hadn't searched yet on the last run they made two weeks ago, so the couple, plus daryl and you went to scavenge the place this time.

maggie and glenn were on the first floor, and you were on the second with daryl.

“i'm gonna check the next one!” you announced to daryl, who was taking his sweet time searching again the places you had already searched, claiming you were not careful enough.

daryl was not lying, but the place was kind of big, and your patience was officially gone now as the second-hour mark of you all being in the location was coming close.

“wait for me, place's too big,” his gruff voice responded from the other room.

“aye, captain,” you yelled back, sending a mock salute in daryl's direction, even though he was out of sight.

“i mean it!” he added, as if sensing your intention to not listen.

you rolled your eyes and walked down the hall toward the—finally—last apartment, twisting the door open slowly. “hello?” you called softly in case there was a walker waiting on the other side. silence greeted you, but your machete remained raised defensively.

already familiar with the layout, you went ahead to check the kitchen cabinets, whispering to yourself “nice,” when you found an unopened bottle of vitamins that were still good and a pack of seeds of different herbs.

you put the stuff in your backpack and headed to the bathroom, stopping a couple of steps away from the ajar door when you caught a glimpse of some movement from the inside.

drawing your machete out again, raising on defense, you pushed the door open, ready to stab the dead geek straight in the head when a walker shorter than you expected lunged toward you, making you gasp. three others behind it followed with their jaws already hungrily biting on air.

everything happened really fast.

you tried to stab the first one with panicked fingers, instead somehow stabbing its shirt into the wall with enough force to keep it pinned there. bye-bye machete, though.

your eyes shot back to the rest, and that's when you noticed all of them had a slit throat. they looked young and skinny, only two of them taller than you. probably teens who were surviving together and gave up. it made your stomach turn.

they were also pretty fast and strong, probably recently turned.

walking away without taking your eyes off them, you reached for your knife and stabbed the blade hard into the second walker's brain with a spray of blood onto your shirt. it fell limp next to you as one of the other three walkers, eager and hungry, tackled you to the ground, the fourth one clumsily falling on top and leaving you caged beneath snapping jaws.

“DARYL,” you yelled, terrified. it felt like a big effort and not loud enough from the weight of the two living corpses pressing onto your chest, which felt like they were directly constricting your lungs and arms.

with your left hand, you pushed away the walker that was right on top of you by the forehead, while you stabbed it with your right hand from from below the jaw, failing to reach the brain, but distracting it enough to stop it from trying to bite you.

that distraction and a sudden rush of adrenaline gave you enough strength to push them both off your body, rushing away from them and snatching the machete off the one pinned to the wall as you quickly shut the door on their faces, locking yourself in the bathroom.

your hands shook as you walked backward, your knuckles white from how hard you griped your weapon's handle. you stared at the door with wide eyes, your heart thumping so loud you could barely hear as they growled, moaned, and knocked and scratched on the door.

the cold tiled wall touched your back, making you jump, and then you heard the unmistakable twang of daryl's crossbow. thump. the wet shlick of a knife twice and the sounds of more bodies hitting the ground.

you released your breath as you watched the doorknob being turned, restricted by the lock. you ran to open the door, eyebrows coming together and upwards, scared and apologetic eyes meeting his angry blue ones.

“yea hurt?”

“no.” your voice was so small.

silence lingered for a minute. you were just about to speak again but he beat you to it. loud and angered. “YER SO STUPID,” daryl barked, chest heaving. “TOLD YA TO WAIT, WHY CAN'T YEA LISTEN?”

the floor was suddenly more than interesting, tears welling in your eyes as you chewed on your bottom lip.

you heard him huff in annoyance before pacing left to right while glaring daggers at you. you knew perfectly well that this was him being concerned and scared of almost losing you, but it still made your chest feel tight and your lips pout.

daryl approached you, cupping your chin to make you look at him. his eyes were dark, the anger masking concern. “yea enjoy makin' me worry, peach?” his voice was husky and low, as his eyes scanned your face and neck slowly, scanning for bites or scratches, “not listening ta me, ya like tha'? bein' a fuckin' brat, yea 'njoy it, dontcha?”

you shook your head quickly, gulping with nerves.

“nah?” he asked, eyes squinting and head tilting as if saying he wasn't buying it. “hmm?” he asked demandingly, shaking your chin gently but firmly.

a tear rolled down your cheek, and his gaze was fixed on it soon. he dried it with his thumb, caressing the skin while he observed the wet trail it left. now that he knew for sure you weren't hurt, he couldn't help but relax, maybe enjoy the privacy you got in this big ass apartment.

“no, no. i'm sorry, i'm really sorry,” you cried.

“sorry? yeah? yer real sorry fer scaring the shit outta me?”

“yes, i'm sorry! i'm really sorry, dar.”

daryl's hand dropped from your chin, eyeing you carefully, head going back slightly with a predatory-like grace.

“dun' think yer sorry. think yer gon' do it again, yea never listen,” he said in a low voice, turning his back to you and walking away into the living room. your legs started following him before you even realized it.

“i'm sorry, i swear!”

daryl ignored you, taking a seat on the green sofa in the living room, manspreading so very obviously intentionally, and your eyes couldn't help but stare as his hips went slightly up as he adjusted himself, letting his hand linger on his crotch. “how sorry?”

one look at his narrowed, stormy eyes and you were on your knees, hands sliding up from his knees to his thighs.

“very sorry.”

his gaze dropped for a moment to the growing bulge in his pants and the back to your eyes. a silent invitation; more like a command, and you'd gladly indulge.

eager hands went to undo his belt and pants, pulling them down, along with his boxers in one swift motion, freeing his almost fully-hard cock. you licked your lips at the sight, leaning forward to kiss his angry red tip. you peppered soft kisses on his tip and down the base of his length, looking up at him with the sweetest doe eyes you could muster.

he breathed heavily, his nostrils flaring. slowly, those pecks turned into open-mouthed kisses and soon you were making out with his tip, “mhm,” you heard him hum, closing his eyes and throwing his head back with a smirk on his face.

you savored the pre-cum daryl was already leaking with a patience that was starting to irritate him. this wasn't a reward for your bratty behavior.

daryl took a handful of your hair and put it up, using it as leverage to thrust his hips upward without warning, making your eyes go wide as they made contact with his. he grunted as he pushed in and out of your pretty mouth, finding a rhythm soon.

one of your hands left his thigh to take hold of his balls, gently massaging them and playing with them in your hands. you watched how it made him bite on his bottom lip, bringing his free hand to your head to push you further, fucking your throat deeper, using it, and making you gag.

“yeah,” he breathed with hazy eyes, “lookin' real pretty like tha', ya fuckin' brat.”

daryl grunted, his cock twitching in your mouth. he was already on the edge, so when you looked up at him with teary eyes and scratched the exposed skin of his thigh with your nails, a pretty moan escaped his lips, making him yank, still as gently as he could, your hair back, pulling your mouth away from his cock.

you gasped for air, but still, like a hungry little thing, tried to take him back in your mouth, which made him chuckle.

“gonna make me cum fast with those pretty—” he leaned down, tilting your head up with a finger under your chin to press a couple of kisses on each one of your eyes, licking away a tear that escaped one of them, “—fuckin' eyes.”

his hand lowered to grab you by the neck, not actually using any force.

he pulled you for a passionate kiss, his tongue immediately seeking yours to lick and suck as he guided you onto the couch, making you sit next to him, one of your legs thrown over his knee.

his left hand grabbed the back of your head to deepen the kiss, while his other hand reached down to undo the button and zipper of your shorts, pulling away from the kiss just to yank them down, discarding them on the floor and wasting no time to return his mouth to yours, making your back arch slightly.

after what felt like such a blissful eternity, his lips latched onto the skin of your neck, sucking with the intent to create bruises, licking and kissing the skin when he accomplished his goal. at the same time, his hands slid under your blood-stained top, which despite its navy blue color, the crimson was still visible.

daryl caressed the skin of your tummy before traveling to your back, quickly unclasping your bra to cup your breasts under all those layers. he kneaded your tits, flicking your perky nipples with his thumbs, pinching them between the index and middle finger, and massaging the skin. fuck, it felt good. for both of you.

he growled as he pulled away from your neck to start ripping your shirt in half, chuckling lightly at your confused face, “found plenty'a clothes, sunshine,” he kissed your frown away, “dis one's ruined anyway.”

you removed the split shirt off your body and he quickly slipped your bra off your shoulders, throwing it a little too eagerly onto the floor. “ain't this a sight,” he whispered to himself, staring at you all naked and exposed for him. “beautiful little thing.”

daryl popped one tit into his mouth as he slowly spread your folds with his index and middle finger, humming against your nipped while he sucked when he felt how wet you were for him.

you gasped, arching your back more, offering your chest for him as he introduced his middle and ring fingers inside your needy cunt, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. his other hand went to your waist, gripping the skin like a vice, growing hard again as he scissored his fingers inside of you, feeling your silky walls hug them hungrily.

he lightly bit your nipple, his speed getting impatient soon, quickly making you squirm underneath him and get louder, but he shut you with a sloppy, hungry kiss while pinning your hips down with the hand that was priorly on your waist.

you weren't going to last long.

“dar—” you whined against his mouth.

“i know, doll, i know,” he mumbled, still kissing you as though your mouth was addictive, his fingers resolute on making you explode. “i gotcha, let go, baby.”

and like the good, obedient girl you always were under his touch, you did just that.

pulling away from his mouth with your eyes thrown back, your face contorted in pleasure, and the sweetest cry falling off your lips, you came. his relentless fingers never stopping their movements, fucking you through your orgasm.

he grunted in satisfaction, watching you in such awe before leaning down to lick a strip from your sternum to your jaw as his fingers came to a slow, eventual stop.

you opened your eyes as your breathing returned to normal, pulling him in for a slow, passionate kiss while your hand raised to grip his deliciously strong bicep. you moaned as the muscle flexed under your fingertips.

pulling away, you moved hastily to straddle him. leaning down you bit onto the skin, while he gripped the base of his cock to brush it against your entrance, making both of you moan.

“need you,” you whined, so pathetic but he liked it. fuck, he loved it.

“my needy girl. my needy little thing,” he growled, kissing your cheeks and jaw—anywhere his mouth reached while you sank onto his cock. “yeah,” he moaned, hands going to your his automatically.

you bit your bottom lip, rolling and bouncing your hips atop his, your hands on his chest that now was bare. the stretch made little cries of pleasure escape your lips, that only got whinier when his fingertips dipped into the skin, surely to leave bruises.

“fuckin' love this,” he breathed, reaching down to rub on your clit with his thumb as you lay on his chest, your hard nipples rubbing against his warm skin.

you bounced on his dick impaled in you, him meeting you halfway with thrusts of his own, finding the right angle that had his tip kissing your cervix, making you sigh and moan, “yeah, yeah, daryl, right there,” over and over, mind going blank already.

his calloused hands moved from your hips to your ass, squeezing and slapping the soft skin hungrily, traveling up to your back and to your tits, sliding back down to your hips. he couldn't stop touching you, pressing you impossibly closer to him.

his mouth found yours again, as sloppy and messy as this his thrusts were becoming from how close you were taking him to the edge. “dar,” you cried, your thighs burning, giving up, but he gripped your hips and started pounding into you faster.

the sound of skin slapping and your shameless moans mixed in the most sinful of symphonies.

your mouth found the skin of his neck and you sucked and bit, trying to muffle your sounds, but he didn't agree. “nah, let me hear ya, baby. gonna make you scream real loud, peach, c'mere,” with his hand behind your neck he pulled you up and pressed his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as he picked up the pace.

his eyes, the way you breathed each other in, his dick sliding in and out of you in the loveliest way. you couldn't hold it anymore.

your walls clenched around him as you screamed his name, curses, and senseless praises to him, absolutely sucking him in as you climaxed around him, drunk off pleasure which seemed so contagious as his movements and sounds became more desperate.

with a primal urge, he thrusted deep inside, pretty much humping your walls while he shoved your face further into his neck. he was close and would've come already if it wasn't because he wanted this to last.

a husky voice reached your ears, deeper and so sexy.

“gon' breed this pussy,” he breathed, “gonna come so deep inside and put a baby in you,” it made you whimper, your arousal waking again like a flash, feeling just as close as he was. “i'm gonna put a baby in yea, make yea a mama, and ya won't,” thrust, “have a choice,” thrust, “but to stay home.”

he grunted loudly in your ear as he shattered, shooting rope after rope of hot, white come into your womb, making you reach the sweetest, most intense climax of the day with him.

you both were a panting, sweaty, content mess by the time you came down from your highs. there was a bright smile on your face that mirrored daryl's, though his face turned serious as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, gaze locking with yours, worry and concern clear in his icy irises.

“don't do tha' again, please,” he said. “i can't lose ya, sunshine.”

“you won't,” you reassured him. “i'm really, really, sorry,” taking his hand in yours, you pressed a kiss on his palm. “i was stupid, and it won't happen again.”

“you weren't stupid. i was mad, shouldn't 'a said that.”

you nodded, leaning down to kiss him, which he gladly reciprocated, though you broke the kiss a little too soon for his liking with a giggle. “so you wanna make me a mama, huh?” you teased.

“prolly should talk 'bout it first, but yeah.”

you smiled brightly again, caressing his cheek. “i'd like that too,” you said, “but yes, we should talk about it,” you giggled again as he pulled out of you with a wince from both of you.

you were about to get up to get your clothes but he stopped you, shooting up from the couch to collect all your clothes, pulling a new shirt from his backpack, and helping you put it on, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead when you were both fully dressed again.

after drying your sweat with his rag, and while fixing your hair as much as you could, you headed downstairs, meeting maggie and glenn who were exiting one of the apartments downstairs.

you noticed glenn's shirt was inside out, unlike when you all arrived at the place, and maggie similarly fixed her hair as you.

“found anything good?” glenn asked your man.

“yeah, bunch'a clothes, some medicine,” daryl nodded, fixing the backpacks around his shoulders. you shared a look with maggie, and you both giggled silently, cheeks blushing.

tagging @ledgeria16 @poisonmedixon @dixons-sunshine comment to join the main taglist!

✩ ABC's

𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐢𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬!

—‘A’ IS FOR AFFECTION (how affectionate are they?)

rafe is not perfect. it took him a while to give himself over to you and let himself be loved. when he’s comfortable, he will give you his all. he’s let you rest your head in his lap, he’ll play with your hair, he’ll shower with you and help you wash yourself, holding you to his chest for a few minutes as he revels in your company. rafe never knew how good it would feel to let someone in, and when he finally does, he never wants to let go. it’s constant kisses and cuddles and hugs, especially when you’re in the privacy of your home or bedroom. he’s not good with words, so he’ll try to show his love through physical acts like gifts, acts of service, or affection. his favorite way to prove his love to you is in the bedroom, because that’s what he’s good at, and what he’s used to. he’s comfortable with his abilities, so he knows how to best show you how much you mean to him when you’re sprawled beneath him, your beautiful features scrunched in pleasure.

—‘B’ IS FOR BESTFRIEND (what are they like as a bestie?)

out of everybody that he knows, he tells you the most secrets and facts about himself. in his eyes you’re his girlfriend and best friend. you guys watch your favorite movies together, you eat breakfast and dinner together, you laugh and joke around together. everything you do is with each other, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. why in the world would he need a ‘best friend’ if he already has you? eventually when you move in with him, he feels all giddy like a little boy, like he’s having a forever sleepover with his closest friend in the world.

—‘C’ IS FOR CUDDLES (how do they like to cuddle?)

before meeting you, rafe never saw the allure of cuddling - why would you want to be stuck to someone’s side all night, sweaty and uncomfortable? but now if you so much as even try to readjust yourself in his hold he’s gripping you tighter and pulling you towards him, muttering a “where’re you going?” he really can’t sleep without you by his side, and will almost always wake up if you get out of bed in the middle of the night to go pee. you’ll sometimes see him sitting up against the headboard, waiting for you to return (that is when he’s not following you to the bathroom to wait outside). he’s clingy when he’s sleepy, so cuddles are a constant must. his favorite is when you’re practically on top of him, legs intertwined and his arms wrapped safely around you. a close second is his head laying on your stomach with his body in between your legs and his grip around your waist secure and strong.

—‘D’ IS FOR DOMESTIC (settling down? how will they be helping out around?)

rafe is obviously the main breadwinner of the household. he has absolutely no problem if you want to work too, but he loves the idea of you not having to worry about money or finding a job. if you do work, though, you and him find a way to schedule cleaning days together. whenever you have days off on the weekends, you’re splitting up the chores between you two so that you can have a fresh restart for the week. he’s not a great chef so he always lets you make the food, but he’ll get up and clean the dishes and any mess left behind from your cooking. he also always makes the bed when you go get ready in the morning. as for settling down, ever since meeting you, rafe knows he definitely eventually wants to. but he’s in no rush because he’s so certain that you’re the one for him, so in his mind there’s no reason to speed it up because you guys have all the time in the world to be together.

—‘E’ IS FOR ENDING (how would breakups work out?)

you are not getting rid of this man. he’s in it for the long run. once he’s committed, breaking up is never even a thought in his mind - he will always try to find a solution to whatever problem you guys have, no matter how big or small. on the off chance that a separation does happen, he would be absolutely devastated. i think he would take it harder than you would, and he would definitely be the type to text you and say how much he misses you whenever he’s drunk. that’s why he would have to begrudgingly block you and cut off contact forever, for the sake of his sanity.

—‘F’ IS FOR FIANCÉE (how do they feel about commitment?)

again, before meeting you he didn’t see himself getting married and settling down. when your relationship gets serious, he finds himself deciding what type of ring you’d like, and sneakily trying to find your ring size. he doesn’t know when the shift happened but he knows it was because of you. because of you he finally sees a happy future for himself, full of laughter and peace. rafe never has to pretend to be someone he’s not around you. you know him inside and out (after a long while of dragging him out of the depths of his own mind), and he wouldn’t have it any other way. you saved him, and he couldn’t be more grateful that you came to him at the perfect moment in his life. he can’t imagine himself being with anyone else in the future. it’s you or nothing.

—‘G’ IS FOR GENTLE (how gentle are they?)

with you, rafe acts like you’re made of glass. he’s used to the roughness of his day-to-day life, so when he meets you and gets this sudden urge to treat you like a fragile antiquity, he gets a little confused. the first time he brushed your hair out of your face, his fingertips brushing against your skin softly, he felt as if he was possessed - where did rafe go and what happened to him? he finds himself needing to protect you. his arms are constantly around you or on you, his kisses are feather light when he’s feeling particularly soft and loving, and his mumbles of sweet nothings in your ear feel like a calming breeze washing over you. he never wants to subject you to the aggressive and angry demeanor that he’s used to portraying. rafe is gentle when he’s in love and i’ll stand by this.

—‘H’ IS FOR HUGS (do they like hugs?)

it took rafe a long time to get used to having someone be so gentle with him. he does enjoy hugs, but at the beginning it felt awkward, like he didn’t deserve the comfort he was receiving. it was almost as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. once he started hugging back, he began to get used to the feeling. the way your chest pressed up against his, the smell of your shampoo that wafted up to his nose, that feeling of safety and security that he had longed for all his life. now he never leaves without a kiss and hug goodbye. he doesn’t care who’s watching, or that his intimidating demeanor is at risk of crumbling - if he leaves without them he’ll genuinely start overthinking that you want to break up with him.

—‘I’ IS FOR I LOVE YOU (how long does it take them to say the ‘l word?’)

oh lord. this man didn’t even want to admit to himself that he was in love with you, let alone you. there was a never-ending battle in his head whenever you were around. why was he so obsessed with your perfume, and smile, and the way you walked? surely it wasn’t normal to be so enthralled with someone, maybe something was wrong with him, maybe he was getting a severe fever. when he finally caught on that he loved you he didn’t say it out loud for fear of rejection. rafe wished he could spoil you with affection like you deserved, and he so badly wanted to be the first one to say it, but ultimately you had waited long enough and you told him on your 6 month anniversary. he was over the moon, but he couldn’t say it back. as always you were patient and understanding, but he could see the disappointment in your face. that night he spent hours in between your legs, spelling out the words with his tongue over and over again as a way to make it up to you. when he was sure you were sound asleep, he whispered it into your hair ever so quietly, and unbeknownst to him, you heard it.

—‘J’ IS FOR JEALOUSY (how do they get jealous?)

he doesn’t necessarily get jealous, per se. he’s more mad at other guys for looking at his girlfriend. while rafe does get insecure that you’ll leave him for someone better at the beginning, after you’re in a long term relationship this fear will disappear quite quickly. for the most part he gets kind of pissed off if someone tries to flirt with you, but he has no problem telling them to get lost. i feel like he doesn’t get jealous often, but when he does he feels the need to be overly touchy and possessive. he’ll snake his arm around your waist and squeeze you to his side, he’ll grab you by the side of the neck and pull you in for a deep kiss. when you get home he’d make you feel good as many times as he felt was necessary, until he was sure you were satisfied and you both forgot what or who he was even jealous about in the first place.

—‘K’ IS FOR KISSES (what's their kissing schedule?)

anytime he wants and anywhere he wants (and you ofc). he’s not too fussy with where you decide to make out, as long as you’re comfortable with it. he really couldn’t care less if it’s in front of a thousand people or two, if he wants to show you some love, he will. the only thing he absolutely needs is a hug and kiss before he leaves to go somewhere, as i said before. other than that it’s whatever the moment calls for. sometimes he’ll pull you into a corner while you’re at dinner with his parents just to press kisses all over your face and neck. you’d warn him not to leave marks, to which he’d respond “missed you. jus’ wanna show everyone you’re mine”. he’s a little possessive when it comes to you, so a lot of the time when he blatantly makes out with you in the open it’s to show everyone that you’re both taken.

—‘L’ IS FOR LITTLE ONES (how are they around kids?)

rafe was never too good with kids, but he wasn’t bad, either. he remembers taking care of wheezie when she was a kid, but besides that he doesn’t have much experience. he definitely knows he wants to have kids eventually, especially when he sees you interacting with any younger relatives that you have. it’s so endearing to him, and it makes him feel like everything will be okay - that you’ll be a great mother, and he’ll grow up to be a good dad, nothing like his father. most of the time he likes to talk to kids as if they’re adults, as in he doesn’t really use a baby voice or dumb down his language for them. if you have younger siblings though, he’ll always bring them sweets and desserts when he comes over because he wants them to like him. rafe has this nagging feeling in the back of his head that he’ll end up like his dad, so he tries his hardest to be the complete opposite, and never ignores or neglects a child when they want his attention.

—‘M’ IS FOR MORNINGS (how will your mornings go?)

listen, rafe is no better than any other man. he’ll usually wake up with morning wood, and on days that you’re rushing and can’t do anything in the morning, he gets really tense and pent up. it usually makes up for a fun night though. besides that, you like to make breakfast together. after being with him for about a year he discovered that he loved the domesticity of it. one of you will make a coffee and the other will stay over the pan and cook something simple. other days he likes to order breakfast in and eat with you in the garden. whatever you guys do in the morning, it’s always together. you need a shower? rafe is joining, even if he already showered last night. you’re running errands? rafe is getting dressing and joining you as soon as possible. he just likes spending as much time with you as he can before he gets called into work later in the day.

—‘N’ IS FOR NIGHTS (how will your nights go?)

usually you’ll put on a movie, which is probably long forgotten in the background within 10 ish minutes (wink wink) and then rafe will put on a shower and help you get cleaned up. he’ll put your hair up for you and watch you do your skincare routine. on one occasion he let you put on a face mask for him, but he got too annoyed at it slipping down his face that he threw it in the bin and said “i’m never doing this shit again”. however he does like seeing how you do yours. it’s relaxing to him, the way the silence envelopes you both as you rub various serums and creams into your skin. on a good night, you’re in bed by 10 or 11pm.

—‘O’ IS FOR OPEN (when will they tell you about themselves?)

in all honesty if you were a stranger when he first met you, he would probably be somewhat open with you. you wouldn’t get the full story obviously - but he would allude to his family and problems occasionally. he found it easier to open up to someone who had little to no notions about him. if you were someone from the cut or figure eight, he would be pretty closed off. you would be struggling to find scraps of information that he would give you about himself. on one hand he felt bad, but on the other, he had to protect himself and his emotions. he was quite fragile when it came to letting people in, and his fear of rejection and abandonment is so huge that he wouldn’t be an open book with you until he was sure that you were there for good, and that you weren’t gonna leave him at any moment. i’d say he would start to tell you more about himself at least a few months in, but only if you were open with him, too.

—‘P’ IS FOR PATIENCE (how patient are they with you?)

rafe doesn’t consider himself a patient man. he gets what he wants when he wants it, and God help anyone who gets in his way. but when he looks at you, your perfect, glassy eyes staring up at him, he can never find it in himself to be mad. if you need “5 more minutes” to get ready, then so be it. if you’re nagging him about wanting something to eat, or wanting his attention when he’s busy, he’s immediately dropping everything to take you out or cuddle on the couch. if you’re getting on his last nerve in an argument, he’ll almost never yell. he’ll have an attitude and be petty, but he could never find in himself to get genuinely angry. you’re his baby, and when he thinks about how much you do for him and how patient you were at the beginning of the relationship when he was still closed off and moody, he immediately backs down and tries to calm down. everything he does is for you.

—‘Q’ IS FOR QUIZZES (how much do they remember about you?)

rafe’s memory isn’t too good sometimes, the result of years of drug and alcohol abuse. if you tell him you’re going out for dinner with your friends, he’ll most likely forget the next morning and ask you where you’re going. he doesn’t do it to be mean, it just actually slips his mind. he’s forgetful with smaller things like that, but if you were to ask him anything about you, he could recite it off the top of his head in under a minute. your favorite food, your most worn tops and skirts, the color of your nails that week, the shampoo scent that you always buy, your childhood pet. everything there is to know about you, he knows. rafe knows you more than you know yourself, and it feels like he’s a mind reader at times. he can read you when you’re uncomfortable, to which he would excuse you two and drive you home without you having to even ask. he knows when you’re upset, even if you lie and say you’re not. so to answer the question, rafe remembers everything important that there is to remember.

—‘R’ IS FOR REMEMBER (what is his favorite moment in your relationship?)

his favorite memory of you two is actually your first kiss. he remembers it like it was yesterday. you were sitting next to him on the beach, the party around you having died down ages ago. something about the way he spoke to you was entrancing. the way the flames danced across his features made him look all the more handsome to you. this was probably a week after your first date, and rafe felt nervous for the first time ever. he felt your knee brush against his as you sat on the sand next to him, and he thought his heart was going to give out - you were just so perfect. you made a joke that you thought was the funniest thing in the world, and you threw your head back as you laughed at yourself, the sound reverberating through rafe’s chest. he remembered thinking that if he didn’t kiss you now, he would explode. after a moment, silence fell, and he caught himself staring at your plush lips, the ghost of a smile still on them. his hands were in autopilot, fingers involuntarily brushing across your cold cheeks. he was so scared that he almost pulled away, but your desperate hands found the collar of his shirt and pulled him into you. as cliché as it is, when his mouth met your soft, warm lips, it felt as if he was finally coming home after years of being away.

—‘S’ IS FOR SECURITY (how protective are they of you?)

is this even a question that must be answered? you guys already know. rafe never wants to be over-bearing, but he can’t help it. ever since losing his mother and now father, he’s had this subconscious fear of people leaving or those he cares about getting hurt. he will always drive you wherever you need to be and pick you up when you call, even if you have your own car. don’t even think about letting anyone else take you home, because rafe will have absolutely none of it. it’s his job to take care of you and he takes it very seriously. at parties he’ll always make sure your drink is safe if you’re not paying attention, his mind wandering to the fear of someone spiking or drugging you. if someone is making you uncomfortable he will be next to you in the blink of an eye, staring daggers at them and yelling at them to fuck off. if he needs to he won’t shy away from a fight, but he’s been trying to cool off for you - he wants to be the mature and collected boyfriend that you need. all of that resolve crumbles if someone were to ever dare touch you (not that they would, knowing you and rafe were together); but on the off chance that a guy did try some shit like that, he’d be crumpled up on the floor in seconds.

—‘T’ IS FOR TRY (how much effort do they put into dates? special occasions?)

rafe pulls the whole nine yards. he likes to surprise you by planning intricate dates a few days in advance. whether it be a candlelit dinner on the yacht, or a picnic on the hood of his car, he always has something in mind. while he enjoys sitting at home and watching movies, he really likes spoiling you with gifts and trips to wherever you want to go. for your one year anniversary he brought you overseas to the place you had been rambling on about for months, saying how much you want to visit with him so that you could be tourists together. he likes thinking about someone else for once, and being with you gives him a purpose. rafe never really thought about using his money for luxuries and fancy clothes and restaurants, but ever since you two got together he has this incessant need to spend all of his cash on the best, most quality places for you. he not only wants, but he needs you to be satisfied and happy. if he’s not providing for you, then what is he even doing with his life (his words not mine😋).

— 'U' IS FOR UGLY (what's a bad habit of theirs?)

his temper. before it was his addictions, but with time and help from you, he was able to kick them. he wanted to be better for you, and he tried his hardest to become who you needed. but his anger is something that has always been a part of him. it’s never directed at you, although sometimes he will snap at you by accident, he apologizes not even a few minutes later. this is something he’s consistently working on, but when there’s people who think it’s fun to push his buttons, it’s hard to keep those emotions at bay. he grew up thinking anger and violence was the best way to deal with strong feelings, so now, as an adult, it feels impossible to think any other way. once you taught him that crying wasn’t a weakness, he’s felt slightly calmer - but he rarely lets the waterworks go, and if he does it’s only in the privacy of your bedroom where he can bury his face in your shirt and silently let it all out. every other time his stress is dealt with by yelling or swearing at everyone’s “incompetence”.

—‘V’ IS FOR VANITY (how insecure are they?)

in the looks department he’s pretty confident. he knows he’s attractive and he’s aware that other people know it too. he is, however, a really insecure person inside. he’s constantly thinking that he’s not good enough for you and that you’ll find someone nicer, better, calmer. rafe acknowledges that he’s not a saint, and he’s well aware of what people used to say about him behind his back - psycho, evil, crazy, you name it. sometimes he’ll lay awake at night and wonder what he did to deserve your kindness and love - but as soon as you come running into his arms, your face all happy and smiley to see him, his worries subside. you reassure him constantly, and you’ll continue to do so until he believes you.

—‘W’ IS FOR WHOLE (would they feel incomplete without you?)

again, this is not even a question. similar to how he is when he’s sleeping without you, he couldn’t imagine living without you either. if there’s an event or party he’s always bringing you as his plus one. if his friends want to go out on an all guys trip you will have to convince him over and over to not bring you, that you’ll be okay on your own for a while. but the truth is he knows you can handle being alone, it’s that he can’t. more times than not he won’t even ask the guys and just invite you along because “if i’m coming, so is she.” top and kelce would say they’re annoyed, but truthfully they’re just happy that rafe has someone else to deal with his antics so that they can sit back and relax every once in a while.

—‘X’ IS FOR XTRA (a random headcanon about them?)

he really wants you to teach him how to braid your hair. he doesn’t know what it is about playing with your hair that calms him down, he just knows that he loves it. rafe tried his best to watch tutorials, but when it came to actually trying on yours, he failed. so he asked you to teach him how, and he spent almost an entire night braiding and unbraiding your hair as practice. now, every time you go to bed, he offers to braid your hair for you so that it doesn’t get in the way of your skincare routine. you can never find it in yourself to say no, not that you want to.

—‘Y’ IS FOR YUCK (what are some things they dislike?)

i don’t know why but i have this headcanon that rafe is actually kind of picky with food. he eats most things, but there are certain foods that if he sees on his plate he’ll be put off. i think he’d hate mushrooms and carrots. it feels childish to him that he can’t eat some simple vegetables, but he can’t help the fact that he hates the consistency of them in his mouth. he also really hates when the tags of his clothes touch his skin, it irritates him and puts him in a bad mood if he can’t cut them off.

—‘Z’ IS FOR ZZZ (some of their sleeping habits?)

he’s a blanket hogger. i said it. he will deny it to no end, but the proof is in the pudding. if you’re hugging him from behind at night, you’ll constantly wake up with only a sliver of the blanket on you. he tries not to, but he’s so used to not sharing a bed with anyone that it’s hard to remember that there’s another person in need of a blanket, too. though he always makes up for it by pulling you into his side to warm you up - “y’don’t need a blanket. you got me.” he also absolutely has to be touching you in some way. as i said before, if you’re not tucked next to him at night, he physically cannot fall asleep.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @rafesgiirl @lizzieolseniskinda @jenniferrvsesi @rubixgsworld @fals3-g0d @theoraekenslover @loveklimes @oneverytiredperson @onlyrealjoy @ihe4rttwd

©𝐜𝐫𝐯𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐟

rafe cameron deserved soft love.

soft love meant peppering kisses on his face, and grazing his bangs out of his face, sometimes telling him how luck you were that he was here with you.

soft love meant getting him his favorite snacks, and letting him choose the movie. letting him into your heart, and cuddling up to him, as you slobbered all over his sweatshirt, his rough hands coddling your small body.

soft love. meant laughing at him, teasing him so much until that grumpy look on his face disappeared, and all that was left was a sparkle that you wanted to store in your ribcage before it all went away.

soft love meant wearing a little necklace that had a 'r,' on it, and letting your manicured hand touch upon it, and letting him kiss you so hard that you saw stars, telling him, swearing to him that you were all his.

soft love was telling rafe that he was your favorite, even as he told you to shut up at night, you would continue to whisper sweet things into his ear. his lean body would be soft in yours, as if the compliments did have an effect.

soft love meant making origami for him, little paper cranes that he would carry around everywhere he went. rafe's truck had a pink adorned crane, and stuffing his office with so many cranes that was the only thing he saw.

soft love meant letting him kiss the creases on your fingers after they were so sore from making the origami. it was pouting, and asking him to kiss away all of your paper cuts. it meant giggling as very serious tough rafe cameron complied to your every wish.

soft love meant talking to him in his worst, when his hands shook and he could barely hold himself together, his words slurring, and his body leaning into yours. it meant wiping away his tears, and telling him he was allowed to cry.

soft love meant you loved him through the bad and good. it meant letting him shatter in your hands, as you told him everything was going to be okay.

soft love meant buying him flowers, even as he told you to quit it. 'i'm a man, that's what men do,' and letting him know that he deserved flowers no matter the day, and that although he didn't agree-he was getting them.

soft love meant blabbering to him at night, as he listened to your yapping, your soft body molded into his as if that was the only way it was supposed to be. he was the thorn in your side, and your sun in the sky.

soft love meant bringing him lunch when he forgot, knowing that he was hungry while you danced up in a sundress, and telling him that no matter the time, the day, you would never forget him.

soft love was what rafe cameron deserved.

𝓇.cameron. ┆ 4:24pm.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ finally introducing to y'all shy, bambi!reader (she's so me!) i hope y'all love her as much as i do .!!! 🧸♡ྀི

bambi!reader is a shy, precious, skittish little thing, with you always burying your nose in some romance novel, loves going antique shopping, obsessed with pearl jewelry, loves the color pastel pink (like most of your outfits), besides the occasional virginal white that your now boyfriend, rafe cameron, likes to see you wear for him, always all dolled up and so, so fucking pretty.

you're a painfully shy girl, which rafe finds cute, especially when he first introduced himself to you, but strangely, even though rafe was a little tipsy, barley even drunk, he couldn't help but walk up to you that night at the party he was hosting, never quite seeing you before, and try to start up a conversation with you, needing to be close to you—it was like an instant pull towards you, like he needed to be close to you.

it almost felt like his heartstrings were pulling and tugging him towards you, like you hypnotized him from across his large balcony at tannyhill—you stood alone, taking tiny sips of the fruity, alcoholic seltzer you've been drinking since you arrived barely an hour ago.

once rafe got you talking, all sweet and shy, and yes, it took some time, your answers were slightly short, timid and nervous, like you were scared of embarrassing yourself in front of him, which rafe thought was incredibly adorable, his obsession with you only growing more and more.

rafe continued making light conversation with you throughout the evening, with you giving him pretty, little demure smiles, and all rafe could think about was fucking you in the most nasty, downright animalistic of ways—however, he knew he would have to have patience, to be gentle, not wanting to frighten you in any way, shape, or form.

you'd make the most perfect little housewife, he was certain of it. rafe already knew you would be his—his dream girl, the girl that he would someday put a giant, sparking diamond on your pretty, dainty little ring finger, already freshly manicured with french tips.

rafe couldn't help but also begin to imagine you all full and plump with a kid of his inside of your womb, plenty of little cameron babies to come, he knows it, deep in his bones, that you're the girl for him.

meanwhile, as the conversation between you both continued, with rafe mostly doing most of the talking, he would start asking more personal questions, perhaps too personal, but rafe wasn't ever one to give a fuck—except now, but even still, he had this need to know every little thing about your sweet, beautiful self.

"soo..." rafe chuckled lightly, a lazy smirk on his lips, taking small sips of his beer occasionally, while cocking his head slightly to catch your pretty, doe-like eyes, decorated with long, fluffy mink lashes—so damn pretty, rafe thought to himself in that moment, and every single moment after that while spending time in your company.

"do you, uh... h-have a boyfriend?" he questioned casually, though he could already feel his blood boiling at the mere thought of some other man's hands on you, watching as you immediately became shy and bashful, and it made the oldest cameron sibling want to kiss you, to claim you, to mark you as his and his forever—luckily, he was able to refrain himself and control his temper, and his desire for you, surprisingly.

and then, once you shyly shook your head no, all pretty and doll-like and submissive, rafe was already thinking of multiple ways about making you his, his, his—permanently.

“Hey—would ya wanna—” Daryl broke off as he crossed the threshold of your room. “Uhh—What’s goin’ on?” he asked.

You looked up at him from the flat of your back. “Oh. Uhh… Do you have ever moments where you’re struck by how terrible your upbringing was?”

He gave you a sympathetic but concerned look. “Mmm. Mhm. Is that why yer layin’ on the floor eatin’ expired peanut butter with a spoon?”

You sighed and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “Yeah…” you said softly.

Daryl knelt down beside you.

“What’re you doing?” you asked.

He continued until he was laying down beside you on his back. He glanced over at you. “Shouldn’t be doin’ this alone,” he said. “So, I’ll stay here with ya until yer ready to get up.”

You couldn’t help the tears in your eyes and you gave him a fond, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“No need.”

Prompt: “Do you have ever moments where you’re struck by how terrible your upbringing was?”

Warnings: Negan, slight innuendo, some angst in this one! You couldn't sleep. You sat awake by the low glow of your lantern, staring at the same page in your book. You rubbed your eyes and tried to refocus.

Tap tap.

You froze, straining your hearing. What the hell was th—

Tap tap tap.

It was slightly louder now. You reflexively turned and looked at the window and through the sheer curtains you could see the head and shoulders of a figure. "Jesus!" You jolted upright and groped for your knife.

Tap. "It's me. It's Negan."

"What the fuck?" you muttered, hurrying over to the window, throwing the curtains aside, and pulling the window open. You stared down at him, incredulous. "How the hell are you out?" you asked him in a harsh whisper.

"Good to see you too. Mind if I come in?" He didn't wait for an answer and heaved himself up on the window ledge and pulled himself through a bit awkwardly, spilling into your room.

You stumbled back, still staring at him, baffled.

He straightened up and smoothed his clothes. "That's better. How ya doin', doll?"

"Negan—"

"Wow," he said, looking around your bedroom with a smile on his face. "In your bedroom. It's like bein' in the Bat Cave," he joked. He wandered over to your dresser and grasped one of the pulls on the top drawer. "Dare I open?" he asked, his smirk growing. "Everyone keeps their naughty things in the top drawer right?"

"Negan—"

"Relax, doll, I'm only joking. Sort of..."

"I'll ask you again: how the fuck are you out of your cell?"

He slid his hands into his pockets. "Father Gabe is gettin' a little sloppy. He forgot to lock me in earlier when he stormed out—I guessed I pushed just the right button."

You swore under your breath and shut your eyes. "Well, c'mon. You're going back," you said, grabbing a sweater and pulling it on, then seizing the top drawer in your desk and grabbing a ring of keys. "Let's go," you demanded, looking at him seriously.

Negan didn't move and the smile on his face faded. "I have no intention of going back in that cell," he said. "Even for you."

Your heart was pounding. "I'll scream. Wake everyone up."

A small smile returned to his lips. "I don't think you will."

"I will..." But your voice wasn't convincing even to your own ears.

He paced over to you slowly. "I'm leaving. I just came here to tell you—actually to ask you... to come with me." Negan gently grabbed your hand and folded it between his, his thumb moving softly over the silkiness of the skin on the back of your hand.

You were frozen, looking up at him, unable to speak with your hand in his. You couldn't ignore the torrent of feelings and cascades of electricity crackling over your skin.

Negan looked down at your hand between his, an expression you'd never seen before on his face. "I don't deserve you, I know that," he said, "but I want you anyway." His gaze was unwavering.

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes were wide as you met his hazel ones. You mind whirred. "I—I can't—" you said finally. You shook your head. "I can't leave Alexandria."

Negan's face fell, though he wasn't surprised by your answer. "Can't? Or won't?"

You gulped. "Both."

Negan gave you a sad smile and nodded. "Well—like I said, I know I don't deserve you." His eyes were suddenly glassy but he blinked it away and straightened up again after a moment, fixing that same smile on his face. "Take care of yourself, doll," he said. He clasped your face for a brief moment. Your lips parted slightly of their own accord. For a moment, you were sure he was going to kiss you, but he only pulled his hand away and ducked his head, turning to leave.

And you wondered if you'd ever see him again, and to your surprise, that thought left a hollow emptiness between your lungs...

Prompt: "I don't deserve you but I want you anyway."