caryl fic

Warmth in the Winter - Daryl Dixon Smut

gather y’alls holy water because y’all will need it after this.

dedicated to the amazing human bean that requested kinky daryl. ya done got my fucked up.


Pairing: Daryl x Reader


Setting: Alexandria era

Warnings: angry daryl, carol, winter, sex, sex, SEX, kinky daryl, restraints, choking, blood, edging/withholding orgasm, dirty talk, i think thats it?

enjoy, my sinners.

Originally posted by fifty-shades-of-mara

Your legs were propped up on the fireplace of your house in Alexandria and your back rested against the sofa chair behind you. The warmth from the fire radiated from the ashes to your feet and you wrapped the blanket draped around your shoulders tighter to your body to trap in the heat. As you took in a breath, you exhaled by wheezing from your scratchy throat. You sniffled and nuzzled your face closer into your book as you heard the front door open and cold air gush in. 

It was an unusually cold day in Alexandria and if there was one thing you hated more than talking to people, it was the cold. It made your lips chapped, made you sick as all get out, and it was so much work to get back warmth. However, the cold gave you an excuse to sit inside and not have to face people. Ever since the group with the leader named Rick joined, things in Alexandria finally began to slightly look up. You had been in Alexandria since the very beginning, so you never really had to fight unless times called for desperate measures. You were very nervous around their group, as they all seemed very placid and standoff-ish. After they had finally settled into their separate houses, you had gone to the couple, you assumed, named Abraham and Rosita, living next to you and offered to have dinner with them. Rosita slammed the door in your face and that was how you had first met her. You took it as a lesson and only spoke to them if you needed. After all, you were practically invisible in this community. You live alone in your house and offer your services to guard the gate. There was one person in the group that had didn’t seem too guarded and her name was Carol. She was the one person you talked to the most. She would come over to your house or you would go to hers and you two would exchange various recipes. After a few times of going to her house, though, you preferred for her to visit yours. The man she lived with, Daryl, would make rude, snide comments every time you were around and you felt extremely uncomfortably under his heavy stare. If you weren’t so timid, you would’ve slapped him by now.

“Hey! Where are you at?” Carol’s voice chimed through your living room. You pushed yourself up and set the book and the blanket down on the chair behind you.

“I’m here,” You responded, coughing up a lung in the process.

“Oh God, it’s this weather that’s made you sick isn’t it,” she sighed, grabbing a pot from under your stove.

“I can’t seem to make out why it all of a sudden has just gotten so cold,” you rubbed your hands over your dry skin.

She looked through your cabinets, looking for whatever recipe she was going to show you today.

“Damn, you don’t have any broth,” she said, shutting the cabinet and putting back the pot.

“What were you going to make?” you asked.

“Well, I was going to make you some homemade chicken noodle soup, but it appears you don’t have the ingredients,” she paused, grabbing your hand and leading you to the door. “I will just have to make it at my house.”

“Carol, no, you know I can’t stand Daryl,” you whined.

“Look,” she said, leading you out the front door into the frigid air. “You need some soup and possibly some medicine. If he says anything I will just slap him or something. He listens to me, I promise.”

You groaned as you walked through the cold air, wind cutting into the skin on your face, wrapping the worn jacket tighter over your body. Carol lead you up the stairs to her house and you entered, warmth engulfing your body again. You shed your jacket, hanging it onto the coatrack, and you headed into her kitchen. You saw Daryl lounging on the sofa, cleaning his arrows. At the sight of you entering and looking at him, he looked into your eyes, and for just one slight moment you thought he wouldn’t say anything. But you were wrong.

“What the hell you lookin’ at?” he asked. You averted your eyes to the ground and he went back to cleaning his arrows. You shook your head and headed the the island that sat in the kitchen. Carol was already preparing the stove when you asked, “Are you gonna show me the recipe?”

“Maybe some other time,” she said as Daryl got up, walking into the kitchen and stood right next to you, as if intentionally winding you up. You stiffened as you felt his eyes land on you, then down your body. “But for now you just need to get well. Daryl,” she addressed and he tore his eyes from you to meet hers. “Can you please get her the medicine from Denise?”

“I ain’t getting nothin’ for her,” he said, starting to walk back to the couch.

“Daryl,” she said more stern, as if reprimanding a child. 

“The hell’s she ever done for me?” he asked. You focused on the bubbling broth on the stove. Daryl sighed and muttered something under his breath before grabbing his crossbow and heading out the door, making sure to slam it.

“What have I ever done to him? You asked, anger bubbling in your chest.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s just Daryl,” she said resuming her recipe.

“Shit,” she cursed, slamming the cabinet door. “I should’ve told him to grab me some carrots.”

She walked to the door and threw on her jacket, talking to you in the process.

“Sorry about this, I will be right back. If Daryl returns, just don’t egg him on. Watch over the broth for me.”

You didn’t even have a chance to argue before she shut the door, leaving you in silence. You rose from your seat, looking into the pot where canned chicken broth bubbled. You clutched onto the wooden spoon, stirring it ever so softly.

The front door opens and closes again after a few minutes and you look up to see the dark eyes of Daryl. He carries the bottle of medication in his large hand and gruffly sets it down on the counter next to you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, eyes locked on the soup. He scoffs in response.

“Yeah, whatever, you should be thankful.”

Something deep inside you snaps and maybe it’s because of the sickness you had or the raging sexual tension you endured when around him, but you don’t hold back as you throw the spoon back into the pot.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You roar.

“Woah, see that? You can fuckin’ talk,” He rolls his eyes. You storm from around to the island to right under his nose.

“What the fuck did i do to you? I’ve barely spoken to you and you are always fucking commenting on me or staring at me! Either stop fucking talking to me all together or tell me what the fuck I’ve done wrong!” you shout. Daryl pauses for a moment, and you see something in his eyes that you’ve seen too many times. But this time he acts on it. He grabs you by your shoulders and shoves you against the nearest wall and boxes you in with his arms.

“Wanna know what the fuck you did wrong?” He mutters, anger dripping from his voice. “I’ll tell you. Ever since I first saw you, I can’t stand it. You’re always parading around with that perfect fuckin’ body of yours and all I want to do when I see you is pin you down to my damn bed and fuck you so hard you can’t see straight and you’re screaming my name and squirting all over my cock. And that’s what I’m gonna do,”

You look up at him, eyes wide, a nervous lust coursing through your body with Daryl’s words. “B- But I’m sick, you’ll get sick.”

“You know what, I wish I gave a damn,” he moans, getting closer to your face.

You take his sentence in and your breath hitches, looking into his eyes. With your newfound, lust-powered confidence, you pull him close to you, almost kissing him and whisper, “Then fucking kiss me already.”

The second the words leave your lips, you pull Daryl’s face to yours, roughly dragging your lips over his. He sloppily kisses you and throws his hands around yours and shoves them against the wall above you, locking your arms above your head. You gasp as his hands tighten over your fragile wrists.

“You’re so damn quiet all the time, who knew you could be so dirty,” he groans. Keeping one of his hands locked around your wrists, he drags his hands down your body and feels for the button of your jeans. His lips harshly suck on the skin of your neck as his hands delve into your pants, coming in contact with your panties. His fingers start to rub your clit and you moan out loudly. He pulls his hand back and you whimper at the loss of contact, but suck in a breath when his fingers dive into your panties. He runs a finger up your already-slick folds, collecting the wetness on his fingers. He pulls his hand back again and holds the finger up to your face.

“Such a fuckin’ dirty slut. Lick my fingers,” he commands and you are far too aroused to argue. You run your tongue up his finger, tasting your salty-sweetness. You wrap your lips around his fingers, as if teasing him. In the midst of your acts, you hear Carol’s voice outside talking to whoever was accompanying her. Daryl whispers in your ear, “To be continued.” 

You button your pants and shakily walk back to the stove, smoothing your hair over your neck where there was undoubtedly love bites. Daryl goes to lounge on the couch, then Carol enters, hanging her coat back up. You reach for the medicine and get a pill out and Carol takes a closer look at your face.

“Your cheeks are flushed,” she points out. You reach for your cheeks. “Do you feel worse?”

“I’m okay, I think it’s just a bit… hot in here,” you shrug, looking at the ground and slipping the pill in your mouth and sitting at the island while she continued to make you soup.

It’s late that same night and you are just getting out of the shower. The towel was wrapped around your body and you turned to look in the mirror at your reflection. You pull your hair back and gaze at the single bruise that stayed planted on your neck. Your eyes were glowing with excitement and you wondered if he was going to show up at your house that night. You don’t know what had happened to you, but you had no problem with it. You dry the rest of your body off and slip a shirt over your bare breasts and slip a pair of pajama pants on on top of some black panties. Like clockwork, your front doorbell rings. You walk out of your room and into the foyer of your house. You reach for the door and open it. Daryl rushes in, almost as if he was going to be late, and slams the door behind him. He grabs your face and connects his lips to yours, not an ounce of gentleness in him.

“Lead me to your room right now,” he gruffly mumbles. You comply, walking quickly to your room with him in tow. You turn to face him, back to the bed and you fall back, arms open and legs sprawled out. He moans slightly, but crawls on top of you, shedding his shirt in the process. He grabs the thin shirt you’re wearing and nearly tears it off of you. He groans again when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. He presses his hands to your breasts, tweaking your nipples as his mouth comes in contact with the left nipple. He licks around it and gently bites it, doing the same to the other. He massages them together and kisses in the valley between, his lips sloppily making wet kisses all the way down to the elastic of your pants. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and panties, dragging them down your legs. 

“God, I’ve been thinking about this cunt ever since our encounter earlier,” he says, his mouth inching closer to your center. However, when your hands tangle themselves in his long hair, he shoots himself up. He turns to your closet, yanking it open. He sees a flannel and yanks it off the hanger, turning back to you. He crawls on top of you.

“Put your hands up,” he commands. You gladly put your hands above your head, smirking at him. He ties your hands together in a tight knot.

“Listen here,” he whispers, his hands reaching up to wrap around your neck, constricting your airways. You moan. “You like this don’t you, you dirty girl. But one thing, you moan, you get punished. Got it?”

You nod, gasping for air when he lets go. He scoots down back to your core and settles his head between your legs. He lightly blows on your core and you’re already biting your lip, fighting moans threatening to tear from your chest. He finally licks a stripe all the way up your core, and your breathe in hard. He continues licking until one of his fingers dives into you suddenly. Your hips jolt at the contact, and you fight the feeling to moan. You feel your climax approaching fast and furiously, and you clench as tight as you can around his fingers. However, when his tongue comes in contact with your clit as his fingers ruthlessly dive into you, you let out a yelp, forgetting the rules. All at once, his actions stop. You pick your head up, gazing at him. He sits back, unbuckling his pants. He slides them down his legs and steps out of them.

“I done told you to not speak a word,” he mutters.

“I… I just…” you whimper as he slowly crawls over you again. 

“Look’s like you need to be taught a fuckin’ lesson,” he shrugs. Suddenly, he flips you onto your stomach and grabs fistfulls of your backside as you rise on all fours. Your arms are twisted against the bedpost, but that was the last thing on your mind. Without any warning at all, he shoves himself inside of you, already setting a pace.

“Speak,” he moans. “Tell me how good it feels.”

You immediately yelp out, “Shit, Daryl, you feel so good!”

He continues to relentlessly thrust into you, making the bed rock violently underneath you. Each time he thrusts, the bed hits the wall and your sure your neighbors can hear you moaning. Daryl reaches down to the flannel shirt and rips it untied, reaching down to wrap his hands around your throat again. He pulls your neck upwards, your body sitting straight up against his chest on your knees. With your new freedom from the restraints, you reach behind you, grasping at his hair and pulling it with the pleasure pulsating through you. He thrusts into you at the same pace and you moan out as his fingers leave bruises on your neck.

“Please, Daryl,” you gasp.

“Please, what? Use that quiet mouth of yours.”

“Fuck me harder,” you say.

A scream tears from your throat as he thrusts up into you even faster now. He finally realizes he hit the spot he’s been looking for when you throw your head back against his shoulder, not holding back moans as his other hand works on your clit on vigorous circles.

“Oh… oh shit,” you curse as you feel yourself approaching the edge, clenching around him.

“You better not cum until I say,” he says through gritted teeth, giving your throat one last squeeze before he throws you back down on all fours. He continues his thrusts and your hands are squeezing the sheets tightly and your teeth have sunk into your bottom lip, droplets of blood seeping into your mouth. When Daryl pulls out, you’re shocked at the sudden loss of contact, but he flips you on your back again and pushes your knees up to where your legs were going over his shoulders. He thrusts into you again, showing no mercy as he pushed your legs farther up. You screamed for him, nails running down his back so hard you’re sure you drew blood. 

“Not yet,” he muttered, voice breaking as his own end was approaching. You screamed again, the pleasure too much for you to handle. You felt like a dam about to burst.

“Okay, baby. Cum for me,” he says. The second the first word left his mouth, you came with a shout, twitching and moaning repetitions of his name, the sound of skin slapping skin, moans, and the bed hitting the wall shaking the house. You kissed him through your climax, the passion and pleasure spreading through your body like a wildfire. You twitch beneath him as you finish your high. He still thrusts into you, but pulls out after a few final sloppy thrusts and starts to finish himself off over you. You move shakily, still surfing the aftershocks of your own high, so that you can help finish him off. You quickly wrap your hand around his slick shaft and pump, tongue teasing his head. He finally moans your name one final time before his load shoots out and coats your hand. His breath evens out and he sits back.

“Didn’t know you was a squirter.”

You chuckle slightly, “Neither did I.”

After you clean yourselves up you convince Daryl to stay the night and sleep with you, and he finally reluctantly agreed, crawling under the sheets with you.

“You’re gonna get sick, you know,” you say, sleep making your voice groggy. He shrugs.

“That’s honestly the least of my worries right now.”

“Why is that?” you inquire.

“Normally, I never woulda done something like… ya know, that. But this whole zombie apocalypse thing has made me think, why not take some risks ‘cause who knows what could happen tomorrow,” he says, thinking hard about his words, as if he was a child trying to put a sentence together.

“I can relate to that wholeheartedly,” you softly smile and pull him in for one last kiss before turning over and letting your heavy lids down and your soul slip into a sleep.

requests are open - i write for twenty one pilots and twd.

|Caryl AU|

“She has no idea for how long he has been sitting there, head down, a sadness that spreads through her entire body, just by looking at him.

This is not the first time she sees him. It’s a regular thing, for him to come, ask for a cup of coffee and a piece of the apple pie she made it herself, no matter what time of the day is. (Of course he doesn’t know it’s her speciality, certainly doesn’t know it was her idea to add it to the dinner’s menu after talking to Dale about it. Still, she feels proud every time he asks for it. Proud of the disappointment in his eyes when the last piece is eaten by someone else).

Tonight, something is off about him. Something she can’t quite put her finger on it, but she feels like she needs to do something. Has to do something. So she takes a deep breath, walking to where he is, hoping (and ignoring Ed’s voice in her head saying the opposite) that she’s enough to put a smile on his face. Even if for just a second.


CARYL AU: where they leave after the war to live in peace
there wouldn’t be anything left of me after that…

the days are long and quiet. filled with the rustle of the leafs and the rush of the nearby shore. the scent of damp earth and salt.

she reads. loses herself in different worlds. tends to their small garden with care and skill. bakes and cooks and eats. learns to love the taste of food again. at night, she curls herself around him, allows herself to seek warmth and comfort.

he hunts. loses himself for hours in the woods. rests his tired feet in the cold water of the ocean. builds a fire for them. mends the small house they call home. at night, he makes love to her slowly, gently. kissing away phantom pains.

some nights, one of them wakes from old demons haunting their dreams.

some days, she doesn’t say a word. hardly eats a thing.

some nights, he sleeps on the sofa, afraid even of her touch.

some days, he feels anger coiling inside of him as it once used to.

but only some days.

Caryl’s first time together headcanon :

Carol is straddling Daryl, they’re kissing and when she takes his shirt off, he gets self-conscious. He nuzzles his head in her neck and it breaks her heart that after all this time he still can’t see how beautiful he really is. She gives him a kiss on the temple, cups his face in her hands to make him look at her and says : 

“Let me show you something” 

She takes her own shirt off and points out her own scars, near her chest, on her stomach and arms.

“Got plently of those on my back too, and tighs. Cigarette burns scars for when dinner was not good enough, belt marks for when he thought I wasn’t good enough… He used whatever he could as long as he could try to hurt me. Destroy me. But he didn’t. I’m still here and he’s not. The people who’ve hurt us are not here anymore. We are.”

She cups his face in her hands again, gently strokes his cheeks and says :

“Where you see scars, I see how strong you are. I see a survivor.”

She kisses him passionately.

“Let me show you how good you are”

Prompt: What we didn’t see during 7x10

“I had to.”

Daryl let out a shaky breath as he wiped the back of his hand against his nose. He looked passed her shoulder into the house and nodded, looking back at her tear-covered face, “Can I come in?”

Carol sniffed, stepping back into the house and opening the old door wider for him, looking down at the floor.

He stepped around her as he took in his surroundings, moving into what looked like the living area. He set down his bag and bow, sitting on the dusty couch with a huff. “This place- S'nice,” he said, not really putting thought into his words.

Carol hummed quietly, feeling slightly awkward- having him on her couch after convincing herself it was better he wasn’t around, and that she’d never see him again.

She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, not saying anything. She noticed his bruises and the bandage on his left shoulder, trying not to think anything of it. Everyone fought all the time; it wasn’t unnatural to see the end results of it on people. Still, though, she frowned at the sight.

He looked up at her from the couch, feeling like he was invading her space, noticing her staring him up and down and keeping some distance between them. Daryl inwardly cringed at the situation, moving to stand up before Carol finally moved, walking to stand in front of him.

She moved the collar of his shirt over, inspecting the dirty bandage before stepping back. “Needs to be changed. I have stuff, sit,” she instructed, pointing at the table and walking into a different room.

She returned shortly with her supplies, making quick work of setting it down and peeling off his old bandage. “Jesus,” she whispered to herself when she saw the wound. She told him to unbutton and hold his collar to the side while she worked.

He looked at her face as she gently placed the new bandage on his skin, she looked focused. She noticed how close her face was to his when she looked up, her eyes widening slightly. “Done,” she whispered, staring at him.

His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips briefly, before landing back on the light blue of her eyes. “Thanks,” he whispered back, re-buttoning up the top of his shirt, not breaking eye contact.

Their brief trance was broken when she looked out the dirty window.

“It’s getting late,” she pointed out, her face flushed as she turned away from him to throw away the old bandage. He sighed lightly, picking at his fingernails and looking outside, not wanting to leave just yet.

He figured she might have had the same thought, because she left the room and came back with candles and a lighter. “Have you eaten yet?” She asked, setting the candles gently on the wooden table and lighting them.

Daryl smiled widely for just a second before clearing his throat and shaking his head no, watching as she smiled back and nodded.

“Need any help?“ He asked, watching her gather stuff for stew and kneel down by the fireplace. She shook her head, lighting the fire and preparing their meal.

He smiled softly at the sight of her, the warm light of the fire making her look more comfortable than she probably was.

His smile fell when he saw how sad she actually looked. Then he remembered that he would leave after they ate. That she most likely didn’t want him here afterwards. He almost forgot about what he had to go back to- the stress of everything and knowing he wasn’t going to see her again for a while- if ever. He wanted to ask her back, but he refrained, thinking it was safer for her here, at least for now.

“What’d you mean,” he asked, realizing he wasn’t completely sure of the answer, “when you said you had to leave?”

“I couldn’t lose anyone. I couldn’t lose any of them,” she explained, staring into the crackling fire, “I couldn’t lose you.”


She died a long time ago, that’s what she thinks. Back when her baby girl dragged herself out of the barn on a sunny afternoon and Rick did her the kindness of shooting her brains out. After that, she just existed and survived and clawed her way through.

But now, she stands in a puddle of sunlight and he is wrapping his arms around her. She leans back and he takes her weight, lips falling to the curve of her shoulder. She feels his kiss through her clothes. He smells of sweat and oil, a life hard won and earned.

(You can find the rest of my Caryl drabbles here.)

empressmcbride  asked:

caryl + get caught making out despite “not being together” (i had to send this too, I HAD TO)

I’m glad you felt the need to send this, too set in ASZ in the happily ever after we’ll never get

He’s eager, so eager that it makes her smile into the kiss. His torso is pressing her gently into the soft couch, a gentle pressure that she cherishes.

Her hands are curled loosely around his neck as his tongue traces the seam of her lips, shyly asking for permission. She grants him access instantly and with a delicate hum, sifting her fingers through the silky strands of his hair.

The way he whimpers into the deepening kiss is exhilarating, and it makes her feel bold, desired. She arches her back, pushing herself further against him. It’s still not close enough and she aches to feel more him. His warm, calloused skin against her own.

But this is all still so new, so fragile, and she’ll keep the pace slow until they’re both ready. Right now, though, she can feel her resolve crumbling.

His hand on her hip inches a little higher, curling around her waist until the tips of his fingers graze her ribs.

“Well, hello.” Glenn’s voice suddenly tears through the quiet afternoon and Daryl jolts away from her with a gasp, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife strapped to his belt.

Pressing her hands into the couch, Carol pushes herself up into a sitting position, her gaze flickering between Daryl and a very smug-looking Glenn. “Jesus, what'ya sneakin’ ‘round for?” Daryl growls, letting go of the knife.

Glenn grins a little, leaning against the doorway. “I wasn’t sneaking, you were… distracted.” The grin on his face seems to infuriate Daryl even more and Carol feels a slight flush of embarrassment tinting her own cheeks - they should have known that getting carried away here would only lead to this.

“You’re a stinky liar,” Glenn points out, wiggling his finger at Daryl who is still sitting on the edge of the couch. Carol’s brows crease in confusion - Glenn doesn’t miss it. “Yesterday, he told me there’s nothing going on between you two.”

Daryl suddenly seems more embarrassed by Glenn’s words than he is about getting caught, flushing a deep shade of red under the stubble of his beard and staring down at his boots. “Wasn’t none o’ ya business,” he mutters, fidgeting with one of the many loose seams on his pants.

“Well, I approve,” Glenn declares with a bright grin. Carol scrambles for something to say to end the awkward tension that Glenn seems to be oblivious about, but she comes up empty.

“Don’t go tellin’ nobody,” Daryl warns him, but then he shyly turns to face her. “Unless ya want…”

He looks so terrified to ask that it makes her heart skip a beat. “It’s okay,” she reassures him, reaching out a brave hand to rest on his. “I don’t mind.” She has a feeling that everybody knows anyway, no matter how many times they deny it. And Glenn can’t keep a secret if he tried They’re not left with much of a choice.

“Gonna let you get back to… that,” Glenn mutters, still grinning when they turn to look at him.

“Shut up,” Daryl grumbles and Carol only smiles a little at that. When Glenn slips back outside with a wave she reaches out to rest her second hand on his, allowing their fingers to entwine.

“Do you mind if people know?” she asks, worried that maybe he’s not ready to make this new development between them official. It’s brand new even though it was years in the making, and he’s so shy and insecure so often that she can’t be sure he’s ready to share it.

His answer surprises her. “Didn’t wanna assume nothin’,” he confesses, head cast downwards, his eyes hidden under the mess of his hair.

It hurts to consider that he didn’t trust their happiness, that he still doubted that she wants to be with him. She offers him a sad smile that he can’t see, squeezing his hands gently. “We can tell people,” she whispers, and when she leans in to kiss him, it’s his turn to smile against her lips.

anonymous asked:

Caryl's first kiss set in season 8😊

Based on this picture below…because.

“Ya stay safe out there. It becomes a bloodbath ya get yer ass out, ‘kay?”

“What just like you would?” Carol quipped back, raising a knowing brow when he didn’t respond. “Exactly.” 

“S’different,” he muttered, eyes seeking out hers through his long bangs.

“Why?” she asked softly, hand falling to the knife at her belt, a small comfort of hers throughout the years. The first knife she’d had to call her own, the very knife Daryl gave her not long after Sophia died, a peace offering at the time.

“Because I owe them,” he said, guilt still lacing his voice even now. 

“Daryl you don’t owe them anything,” Carol spoke sternly, her brows knitting together, knowing how deep his guilt was buried in him.

He looked at her like he really wanted to believe it, but he was fighting a losing battle, with her and with himself. 

“Still gon’ do all I can,” he murmured, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the arrival of Morgan and Tara.

“You and I both,” Carol said, glancing back to see if there were any sign of their companions, sighing slightly when there wasn’t.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy Daryl’s company…but shit it was hard. It was hard because he knew her, every part of her, even the vulnerable side, and that made her avoid him. He’d known to lie to her that day at her house, lying about the loss of Glenn and Abraham, he’d known she’d needed that, no one else would’ve. She wasn’t ready then, was barely ready when Morgan broke the news to her, realisation dawning that her best friend had done what he could to protect her. Carol would never berate him for that, sometimes lies were necessary, to protect the ones you love.

Love. That was another reason she avoided him. Running from love, a love that went far past what she felt for the rest of the group. 

If she died out there today, he’d never know. Maybe that was best. Maybe it wasn’t. All she knew was that she was done running away, it was time to take those baby steps forward.

“Where ya at?” Daryl asked, making her blink hard from her stare. 

“Sorry, minds just…all over the place,” Carol offered as a flippant excuse. 

“Need ta be focused out there,” Daryl said with concern. “What’s on yer mind?”


Carol shook her head dismissively.

“C’mon,” Daryl prompted, nudging her with the toe of his boot.

Carol sighed, swallowing hard before stepping forward between his open legs, something he surprisingly seemed more than comfortable with, brushing the loose tendrils of hair back off his face.

“You really need to get a haircut,” she said quietly, focusing on the motion of her fingers working on the tangles she came across.

“That’s what yer were thinkin’ ‘bout?” he asked with a raised brow.

“No,” she admitted, a lump swelling in her throat as she allowed her hands to flutter to the sides of his neck, already finding it damp from the heat of the day, his pulse thrumming against her fingertips.

“Then what?” Daryl asked unsurely, hands itching to reach out and touch her, anchor himself to her. Instead he opted for tracing the curves of her knife that rested just off her hip, just as she had before.

Shallow breaths escaped her as she gently used her thumbs to angle his jaw to look up at her, snagging his gaze away from her knife and up to her clear-sky blue orbs. 

“You make sure you come back to me Daryl Dixon,” she breathed, hesitating for just a moment before tilting her head, her lips brushing lightly against his. 

Daryl was proud that he only froze up for just a moment, Carol stilling to allow him to react. After his momentary blip, his hands found her hips, pulling her to take another step forward just as he began to kiss her back with desperate fever.

The kiss barely lasted a few seconds before they heard the sound of distance clapping, Carol quickly whipping around to see a grinning ear-to-ear Tara.

Daryl muttered a curse under his breath, ducking his head in true Daryl style, avoiding anyone’s gaze as Tara and Morgan neared.

“About damn time,” Tara snorted. 

“Could say the same for you,” Daryl muttered under his breath, eyes briefly flickering to Carol who now had her back to him but kept her proximity just as close. “’Bout time y’all showed up,” he grunted, starting up the engine to his bike so he couldn’t hear whatever the next comment Tara made.

Carol glanced back, shooting him a sympathetic smirk, holding her hand out towards his, Daryl taking it without hesitation.

“I meant what I said,” she spoke, curling her fingers tightly around his, Daryl mirroring the action.

“Only if ya promise ta do the same,” he said, dropping her hand and backing up his bike, getting a surge of confidence as he knew he had a quick escape. “We ain’t done here,” his voice gravelled, a finger gesturing between the two of them, pulling away before she had a chance to fluster him further.

“Bet you’re glad we showed up late huh?” Tara almost sing-songed as the trio walked away from the cloud of dust Daryl had left behind.

Carol shot both her and Morgan a look, a genuine smile pulling on her lips. “You have no idea.”


He’s smiling above her, weight resting on his forearms and firelight flickering off the creases and shadows on his face. Eyes squinting and glittering as he looks at her like she’s the sun, not some beat-up, worn out lady at the end of the world. She runs her fingertips down the hard muscle of his shoulders, muscle that kills and protects and rages, and sees his expression shift.

His kiss is soft and slow. She feels his skin trembling beneath her fingers, and knows it is her. It is her that makes him sweet at the end of the world.



She’s sitting across from him. Silver curls framing her face and freckles dotted across her cheeks. Too beautiful for a place like this.

“Don’t need ya charity.”

She sighs, kneads her hands in her lap. Nervously eyes the table next to them. “You killed my husband.”

Hell, she was there that night. Last thing he needs is to replay it all over again. “Was an accident,” he grunts like it still matters now. His handcuffs rattle as he shifts in his seat.

The slightest smile curls her lips - just as drenched in sadness as it had been that night. Before.

“I know. You saved me.” Her voice is just a whisper. Pink lips parted. Shit, he still remembers how soft they’d felt against his own. “You don’t deserve to spend the rest of your life rotting away in prison for that.”

Even now after the trial, he struggles to understand why she cares so damn much. “’s the way things went,” he mutters with a shrug of his shoulders. This place… He’s stuck here for a good long while. That’s the price he paid. For her. A stranger he met in a damn bar.

Tears shine in Carol’s blue eyes - as blue as the sky he only gets to see now through a wired fence and the tiny, barred window in his cell. Her hand reaches out, then retracts, then lands on the table between them. “It’s not how they have to be.”

anonymous asked:

What are your top five (or ten) caryl fics?

These are some of my favorites! most of them have hella smut… YOU’RE WELCOME!

Originally posted by gradlifethrugifs

anonymous asked:

Prompt: drunk Daryl is a cuddly and honest daryl

He’d never drank wine before. Hell Merle always said that pussy shit was only for emotionally unstable single women of a certain age. 

But this was the apocalypse and when presented with the chance to forget that fact for if only but a few hours you damn well took it. 

And boy had he taken it.

Two bottles of wine and a gulp of fresh air later Daryl was feeling…well he was feeling less than stable.

Carol had warned him, saying it’d go straight to his head, but of course he hadn’t listened to that. 

He clumsily sparked up his lighter after what must have been the fifth attempt. 

Vaguely, he heard footsteps coming up behind him on the porch but didn’t have the motivation to turn around and see who it was.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you Dixon,” a voice came from beside him, his response simply to side eye the woman.

“Weren’t the wine, was the air,” he said with a slur. 

She let out a short chuckle, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and taking a drag before even realising it was gone. 

“I’m real tired,” he said, leaning against the porch railing to relieve his sudden fatigue, and also because if he didn’t he felt like he might fall ass over tit. 

“Wine’ll do that to you,” Carol replied finishing off what was left of the quickly burning out cigarette before flicking it into the flower pot.

He cocked his head, watching as she blew out the last of the smoke she inhaled, head tilted towards the moonlit sky, her eyes fluttering closed at the calm that washed over her.

“You’re real pretty,” he stated, allowing his gaze to wander over her.

Her eyes flickered to his, a smile tugging at her finely pressed together lips.

“You’re real drunk,” she commented back with a smirk.

Daryl frowned like she’d offended him, “that ain’t got nothin’ to do with how ya look.”

“Not familiar with the term beer goggles?” she asked him, coming over to lean against the railing, her side pressed against his.

“Ain’t no damn beer goggles,” he scoffed, before adding, “been drinkin’ wine anyhow.”

“You know what I mean,” Carol said, feeling the weight of him becoming heavier against her with each passing second.

“Carol I’m real fuckin’ tired, I don’t think I can get up those stairs though.”

“You trying to get me go to bed with you?” she teased.

“Ya wouldn’t hear no complaints from me,” he said simply making her eyes widen at his confession, “but right now, I just need ya to help me get there.”

She shook her head in what was a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Alright Pookie give me your arm,” Carol said lowering her shoulder so he could wrap a strong arm around her.

Eventually she hauled him up the stairs and into his bedroom, having to stop a few times when he claimed the walls were spinning. 

He flopped unceremoniously onto his bed face first with a grunt and a groan, drawing a laugh from Carol.

“God you’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, I’ll bring you up some water in a bit,” she said turning to leave the room.

“Don’t go,” he called out, his voice smothered by his pillow.

She glanced back at him as his braced himself up on his hands, rolling his body over with great effort onto his back.

“Ya already made it up the stairs, may as well stay now you’re here,” he said with a lazy grin.

She bit her lip in order to stop the laugh that wanted to come out from escaping. In all honesty it made sense for her to stay with him, lord know’s wine could make people god awful sick, especially if they’d never had it before.

“Alright,” she sighed, closing the door before collapsing down next to him, laying on her side so she was facing him, “but no funny business Dixon.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” he grumbled rolling back over immediately, his arm curling tightly around her hip, his head coming up and dropping onto the crook of her arm, his face pressed against her neck, taking in a deep breath and revelling in what was her.

“Daryl?” she asked more than confused by his actions.

“What?” he grunted, his face nuzzling further down so it ended up buried between her breasts.

Carol’s breath hitched just briefly at the intimate contact.

Her hand came down to thread through his hair, running through it soothingly , not wanting him to be deterred by her questioning him.

“Daryl what are you doing?” she asked softly.

“Why’d ya tease me all the time?” he countered, either avoiding or not hearing her question all together.

“Do you not like it when I tease you?” she may as well take some advantage of his drunken honesty.

He paused for a moment, contemplating the words, his hand that was rested on her back moving absently so it ran up and down the length of her spine with a feather light touch.

“Ain’t that I don’t like it, don’t mind it none, never know how ta take it though,” he admitted.

“You take it however you want to take it,” Carol replied, fighting the shiver trying to crawl up her spine at his tender movements.

“What if I wanted to take ya up on it though? That wouldn’t be alright would it?” the uncertainty in his voice pulled at Carol’s heartstrings her nails scraping across his scalp in response.

“Wouldn’t hear no complaints from me,” she said lowly, echoing his earlier words. 

He shuffled his head at that, craning it upwards till his chin was rested against her sternum. 

She looked down at him with curious eyes, waiting to see if he’d pull away from her like she’d half expected.

“Don’t deserve ya, y’know that?” he murmured huskily before tilting his head back down to press a kiss at the hollow of her neck, his mouth still lingering there after. 

The shiver that’d she’d been denying herself ripped through her without warning along with a flush of warmth that only his touch could give to her. 

She pressed her own mouth to the crown of his head, her fingers fisting the hair at the nape of his neck, listening as his breathing began to slow and deepen.

“You more than deserve me Daryl Dixon,” she whispered into the side of his head, hoping that even through sleep those words would bury themselves into his mind, her own tiredness pulling her into sleep not moments later.

anonymous asked:

Caryl prompt: "I have never once thought of a future without you."

They’re playing some stupid game. A combination of truth or dare, with question cards and some dice thrown into the mix and Daryl hasn’t got a clue what the rules are or how it works but he knows that Carol is enjoying it and that’s good enough for him.

It had been Carl’s idea, which shocked the shit out of him because the kid has been downright depressed lately. Quiet and sullen and it’s not like Daryl can blame him. Carl got the short end of a lot of sticks but apparently tonight some of his childlike nature bled through and he gathered everyone up to play a game.

Daryl is squished into the corner of the sofa, one leg up under himself and a pillow over his lap, as if that could someone shield him from being called on to play. They haven’t gotten to him yet, but his turn is coming in hot like a freight train.

He’s not good at this shit, never has been. Hasn’t got much experience playing group games and being the center of attention even for a moment makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. But still, there’s a reason he agreed to this and that reason in sitting on the floor directly in front of him, her head resting back against the edge of the sofa cushion right by his leg.

He has to stop himself from reaching out to run his fingers across the softness of her hair. He knows it would be soft too, can tell by the way the light hits it just right and the shimmer it gives off when she shakes her head.

She’s happy about this, which is saying something because she’s been anything but happy these days. Not since they arrived here in the safe zone and she put on those fake smiles. So when her face lit up at Carl’s offer and she shot him a pleading look, silently asking him to join too, he was powerless to resist.

She just lost her dice throw and answered a trivia question about food, which seemed simple enough and for a moment he falls into a false sense of security, thinking maybe he’ll be lucky enough to get an easy one. Hopes so at least, because if it’s some weird dare like streaking across the neighborhood naked well…hell will freeze over before he ever agrees to that.

When he reaches out to toss his own dice on the coffee table they land with a clatter that sounds loud and obscene in the tiny living room. He doesn’t really know what he’s aiming for. Sevens? Snake eyes? The rules still escape him, but he hadn’t been paying much attention either. Seems luck is against him tonight though because Carl instantly gesture to the split deck, motioning for him to take one which must mean he lost.

Daryl sighs, reaching out to grab a card and hoping it’s easy and stupid, nothing serious at all.

He stares at the words with his brow furrowed and his mouth turning into a frown, before shaking his head and tossing it back down. When he reaches for another Carl shoos him away with a wave of his hand.

“No, you can’t just pick another one. Gotta use the one you grab.”

Daryl scowls, seeing Carol’s tilted head from down below and the sudden stares of everyone else in the room. Feeling put on the spot and irritated because of course he got a difficult question.  “Dunno how to answer that one. Skinnin’ possums I guess? Who the hell knows. Gimme some food trivia like she got.” He gestures to Carol absently, getting a small smirk in return.

Carl grabs the card in a flash, snagging it off the glass table top and reading the words. “Where do you see yourself in five years. oh, well this one is kinda depressing I guess, maybe you’ll get a better one next time.”

He grunts out an agreement, watching as the group moves on to another player without so much as a hiccup but his own mind stays on the question he’d had such a hard time answering.

He went with the default option, skinning possums and shooting arrows. That’s the easy reply, thoughtless and pointless, but now that he actually thinks on it he realizes that he has no idea what the next five years will bring him. No idea if he’ll even survive that long. No guarantee that his time will be well spent and not suffered.

Worst case scenarios flood his brain instantly but when he allows himself to daydream about the good possibilities, the things he could only hope for but never expects to get, that’s when she starts filtering into his scenes unchecked.

She never looks up from her spot on the floor, but in his own mind she’s close as she can be.

Sharing a porch swing with him on a warm summer evening.

Hugging him tight after he’s come back from a run.

Crawling into his bed at night and curling up beside him, warm and sweet smelling.

Keep reading

"I might never get another chance to say this."

For @shimmershae, for this prompt. I apologize if I am rusty, but I thought I would try. <333

AN: Contains slight spoilery elements from the 8x01 premiere, but it’s pretty vague, so I don’t think it’s too spoilery. 


“Good enough,” Tara said, chewing on her licorice stick. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Daryl muttered, mounting his bike and getting it revved and ready. 

Tara and Morgan turned to get into the car, and Carol was left standing in the midst of them, arms folded across her middle, with her rifle slung across her back. 

The low drone of the walkers gradually grew from a hum to more distinct growls and shuffles gaining speed, dragging across the pavement.

“You take care of yourself,” Daryl called to Carol, his voice thick and wavering. It could be the heat, the smoke, the pack a day habit, anyone of those things, but the wistfulness in his eyes spoke volumes louder. 

Carol approached the bike, stopping at his side. She brushed the hair off his forehead so she could see him, and her hand drifted down to his bicep, resting there against his warm skin. 

“Stay safe?” She asked, a hint of a smile threatening at the corner of her lips, but her voice held a hint of desperation. 

He looked up into her eyes, the softest, sweetest, clearest blue eyes he’d ever beheld. Eyes that had seen him at his worst and never looked at him any different than she did today. Eyes that could look into his soul and strip him bare. They held all the love and affection he’d never known before. They could contain the strongest, deepest grief and sorrow, and still shower you with a selfless, loving gaze that lifted you above all the worldly pain. 

He reached up and cupped her cheek, as she nuzzled into his familiar, worn, calloused hand – so rough, and yet the most gentle touch she’d felt in years. 

“Nine lives, remember?” He smiled up at her, his thumb still brushing the tender skin beneath her eye, catching the fallen teardrop as it weaved its way down her face. 

Her breath caught, and he could feel her chest shudder as a wave of emotion flowed between them and enveloped them in it’s warmth. 

“I might never get another chance to say this-” 

“Stop.” Carol cut him off when her arm wrapped around his neck, and he placed his hands on her hips. “I already know.” She whispered into his ear, her breath fluttering the hair against his neck. 

He wrapped her up in his arms pulling her closer to him, and held her there, long enough to memorize just how perfect she felt in his arms. 

“I do, though,” he said, pulling back from the embrace just until his forehead rested against hers. 

Their breaths mingled together, their lips inches apart, eyes closed, just soaking in the moment, until she whispered. 

“I do, too.” 

The way you make me feel (Like I’ve been locked out of heaven).

So, after a talk between me and @proudcaryler about Caryl and how it would be their sex life, I came up with this. It was suppose to be smut, but… I can’t write smut without becoming fluffy lol.
Sooo, here it goes Mila! I hope you like it.

The tittle was just because I was listening to a version of  “Locked out of Heaven” made by Bastille and I suck at tittles lol.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I have a prompt. Daryl and Carol took the next step and the thing that surprised more Carol is that even though she always thought Daryl would be reluctant to public displays of affection he's the one that's always touching her now. Like... when they are on missions he shyly takes her hand, or when they have to go on different missions he kisses and hugs her goodbye, or he randomly kisses her for no reason when there are other people around and tells her 'I love you' very often

It was strange. 

Something Carol had never been used to having before. 


Least of all public affection - well other than the territorial kind.

And the last person she expected to be so openly affection was Daryl Dixon…but oh how wrong she was.

Like now for example, sat with a group of the people they’d grown to call family, Daryl just arriving back from an days hunt. He comes straight over to Carol and without hesitation settles next to her around the fire, scooping a large hand under her jaw, pulling her in for a soft and tender kiss. 

Carol is hyper aware of the raise brows and widened eyes of the group, it isn’t the first time he’s kissed her in front of the group but it’s certainly the longest.

He seems lost in the moment, her kiss like a drug to him and all he wants is more. 

It’s Carol who eventually pulls away, wanting to know what the hell came over him. 

“Missed ya,” he rasped as if he could read the question on her mind.

Carol giggled then, like a school girl no less, kissing him softly once more. 

She could vaguely see Tara out of the corner of her eye, grinning like a fool at the intimate pair. Daryl had curled his arm easily around her waist, so their thighs were pressed together, his mouth rested easily against the revelled skin of her shoulder, fingers interlocked over the top of hers. 

Carol tilted her head to look down at him, Daryl looking back up through his bangs innocently. 

“I love ya,” he murmured against her skin as if he was tattooing it there. He said that far more often than she ever thought he would. He was even the first to say it, it was after a close call with a walker while they were out on a run. Scared the ever loving shit out of him, losing her, it wasn’t an option for him. He loved her and he wasn’t going to ever deny it or hide it.

“I love you too,” Carol smiled, resting her head contently against his. 

Daryl had reason behind being so openly loving towards her. Other than just the reason of he can so he will. 

His whole life, he’d been deprived of that basic human need for love from the two people who were supposed to shower him with it. Tender touches were foreign and unknown to him, until Carol. Gradually she broke down every wall, helped him overcome every fear, and now he craved it. Craved her mainly. The way her skin was silky soft beneath his; the way her lips curled into a small smile every time he told her he loved her; the way she melts into his hugs when they say goodbye; the way she grips his hand just as tight when they’re on dangerous run.

He’d never known the need for something so bad. Didn’t think he was capable of such love and affection. 

But for this woman? 

For this woman he would be anything.