R A N D O M || OS

190. (TWD) Daryl Dixon - Motorcycle

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Summary: Daryl convinces you to ride his motorcycle.

Warnings: typical twd gore/violence, Daryl being a flirty boy, fluff...probably too much for me and Daryl's heart to take, age gap. Daryl seems OC but I don't care it's what we deserve. (Pre-Negan)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X F Reader

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"I'm not going on that thing."

It's the first thing out of your mouth at the crack of dawn. Daryl was already half awake, listening to your breathing quicken as you awoke yourself. He knew you'd rather take a car on a run, never his bike, but the cars are under maintenance today. His bike is the only choice.

He sighs through his nose out of exasperation, turning his head in your direction. You're on your side, facing him, arm tucked under your head. Daryl can't help but almost laugh at your expression: a small pout on your lips, as if to somehow convince him that you're never going on that bike.

"I'm not," you persist, eyes finally meeting his, and you fight a smile when you see his lips quirked up. "I'm not!"

"All righ'," Daryl murmurs, moving his body so he's facing you. The sheets are tangled in his legs and he closes his eyes.

"I'm not," you whisper, and he sighs again, opening his eyes. "I'm gon' make ya go," he rumbles, voice deep, and you frown again. "You can't," you huff, sending pieces of hair to float from your face.

"I'm gonna," Daryl mumbles, eyes starting to flutter closed again. "Jus' c'mere." You only sit up, making him startle.

"I'm scared to ride that bike and you know it," you say, running a hand through your hair. "Please don't make me-"

You're cut off by Daryl's massive arms encircling you and bringing you to his bare chest. You're back on the bed, Daryl holding you, and he's sighing again. "I'll be there with ya," he murmurs, his calloused thumb absentmindedly running over your cheek.

"I feel exposed on that thing," you reply, shivering at the thought of a walker grabbing you while you're on the bike.

"A walker ain't gon' grab ya," Daryl says, somehow reading your mind. "Jus' hold onto me."

"I already do," you mutter into his chest, kissing the spot there. He shivers slightly, his mouth opening and then closing, wanting to say something snarky in return, but he can't.

"How do you know it won't...," you trail off, thinking hard of some excuse to get you out of this. "Fall?"

The hot Virginia sun beats down on you both, and you're already working up a sweat from just standing on the driveway of the house. Daryl is tinkering with the bike, mentioning something about bike parts.

Daryl gives you an incredulous look. "Hon," he runs a hand over his forehead, biting his lip, unsure. "Ya don't havta go." If this was different circumstances, Daryl's mannerisms would look sexy right now, yet you're shaking in your shoes at the sight of a motorcycle.

"If you're calling me hon to convince me to go, it's working," you say, eyes squinting to look at him because of the bright sun. A small smirk appears on his lips, as if to say, all right, I'll play.

He stands up from his work and moves to your side, and you frown.

"Come with me?" He asks, and you can't help but grin at Daryl becoming putty in your hands. He would die rather than beg to another person, especially for a stupid reason. But here he is, grabbing your hand and giving it a small squeeze, eyes playful.

"Finish working on your bike before I change my mind, Dixon," you huff, and he smirks at you. "That's ma girl," he's muttering as he walks back to his bike, and you flush and sweat even more in the sun.

The bike is on the street with Daryl seated on it, hands on his thighs, waiting for you to attempt to get on the damn bike. "Just move yer leg over," Daryl says, a bit louder so you can hear him over the dull roar of the bike.

"I am," you grunt, stumbling slightly as you plop onto the seat, arms immediately wrapping around Daryl's torso. Your face buries into his vest, your arms squeezing tight, already feeling incredibly unbalanced.

"Hon, ya don't have ta grab me so damn hard," he's mumbling, and you can feel the vibrations of his voice. You loosen your grip, but only a little, and he chuckles.

"You'll be fine, sweet girl," Daryl puts his larger hand over your own on his stomach. He squeezes it assuringly. You still feel like you're going to throw up from nerves or pass out. "Ready ya go?" You nod against his back, might as well bite the bullet now and get this horror over with. Then Daryl won't have to tease you all the damn time.

Before you know it you're moving, the bike rumbling, and the feeling of falling becomes more strong. You clench onto Daryl for dear life, and you feel a chuckle rumble through his chest. You swat his chest, only to grip harder on his vest after feeling the sensation of tipping over.

The run consisted of a pharmacy Daryl noticed on his previous run. It wasn't far away from Alexandria, only around twenty miles. However, it feels like an eternity on the back of the bike, face buried in Daryl's back, hands gripping for dear life. It's only when the bike slows you peek from your hiding spot, noticing that the bike has now stopped in front of the pharmacy.

Daryl quickly gets off the bike to help you slide off. You stand on slightly wobbly legs, glaring at him, and he only smirks down at you. "Never again," you hiss. "I felt like I was gonna fall the whole time."

"I wouldn't let ya," Daryl replies, equally snarky, and you only roll your eyes. "You can be an ass," you finally reply, a small smile on your face, as the two of you approach the pharmacy entrance. "You tell me every damn day, girl," Daryl huffs. "I still love ya."