#🐿️

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[famousfishathletecookie]

Белочка…:)

[just-a-pole-sir]

[romromi]

My translator has a habit of translating Ellis' name as squirrel, and well, it makes sense considering that squirrel in Japanese is リス (risu), and Ellis is spelled エリス. But the truth is that Ellis does look like a squirrel.

He even slouches like one of them.

[intrikatie]

[praline1968]

😁

[elijaheldridge]

[ART] Gravity Falls (Squirrel version vibe style)

by CerdoEnPumpkin

Left- Squirrel Mabel

Right - Squirrel Dipper

[fairyniceyeah]

⌛🐶 I’m ready for the dark

Title from This World (ATEEZ)

Summary: Yunho is struggling to get through a grueling dance practice. He drops the moment it’s over.

CW: emeto, fainting

Sickie: Yunho Caretakers: Hongjoong + Seonghwa + Mingi + Jongho

It was hot.

And loud.

And Yunho was exhausted.

None of these things usually bothered the dancer much. Dance practice was the definition of heat, music volume on max and some sort of exhaustion. Yunho didn’t have problems with that. He liked dancing and even, if not especially, dancing till he was exhausted and the mirrors fogged up.

They were on their sixth hour of that day’s practice and for once Yunho was glad he was not leading it. The choreographer-noona was nice, talented and she pushed the group in all the ways they needed. She saw every detail, every tiny mistake, from her position at the front of the room - unlike Yunho who would miss mistakes when dancing himself - and she didn’t hesitate to call them out on it.

“From the top”.

“Again.”

“Jongho-ssi, you need to be a bit to the left.”

“Hongjoong-ssi, a bit faster.”

“Seonghwa-ssi, don’t look so scared. If you time it right you won’t run into San-ssi.”

“Yunho-ssi, pick it up.”

⌛

It went like this for a long time and hours blurred together. It was hot. And loud. And Yunho was exhausted. His limbs felt like lead, unable to move right. Jumping was strenuous in a way he didn’t remember it being this morning. 

At least he already had the dance down, remembering his every move with muscle memory, so he didn’t have to think about it.

“Hongjoong-ssi, you need to kneel down on three not on four.”

“Sorry, seonsaengnim”, Yunho heard his hyung apologize, “I’m a bit dizzy. I think I need to sit down for a moment.”

All attention snapped to their captain and the choreographer called out “take ten” the moment she spotted his complexion. Hongjoong indeed looked a bit pale and crouched down to the floor the moment she gave her okay. Yunho wiped the sweat from his brow and winced as droplets of the salty liquid dripped into his eyes, burning them, nevertheless. 

Seonghwa and Wooyoung were already with Hongjoong, helping him sit down with his head between his knees while Yeosang ran to get some water and a sweet snack. Good. They didn’t need Hongjoong to faint during practice - again. Reassured that Hongjoong was in good hands and knowing not to overwhelm his embarrassed captain, decided to drink something himself.

But when he turned to walk to his bag, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, nearly bowling him over. Yunho lifted his hand to his head and took a deep breath. Why was this happening now? He had been just fine earlier when he was dancing. Why was walking an issue?

Slumping down by his bag, Yunho for the first time realized that he felt … off. He couldn’t describe it any other way. The tiredness he was feeling wasn’t post-work out exhaustion but just exhaustion. His head felt weird, heavy and light at the same time. An annoying ache was spreading down his neck and into his upper back.

He wanted to blame the fact that he had slept badly or not enough. But he had gone to bed at a reasonable time and he had even woken up a bit late that morning to Yeosang shaking his shoulder and telling him he had overslept his alarm. That normally didn’t happen to Yunho, he liked being punctual, but they all had weird one-offs. He had been tired then too, achy. A shower and a coffee later he had felt much better, so he hadn’t thought anything of it. Now everything was hitting him again.

It was only an hour left. He had endured six hours of it, one more would be no problem. 

“You okay?”

The question startled Yunho badly enough that he nearly dropped his bottle he had been trying to fumble open for some time without success at this point. He hadn’t even realized he had taken it into his hands.

Mingi frowned down at him, holding his own - open - water bottle in his hand. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Just can’t get this stupid bottle open”, Yunho replied. What else was there to say?

Mingi laughed at that, a loud, joyous sound. But for some reason it annoyed Yunho to no end, scraping at his ear drums. 

“Give it here, you big baby”, Mingi offered, grinning at him.

Yunho pouted. Mingi was the big baby, not him. But he couldn’t deny that he was thirsty, so he handed it to his best friend, who opened it without an issue. 

“You sure, you’re okay?”, Mingi asked then, raising one worried eyebrow.

Yunho nodded. He was fine. 

⌛

They continued practice soon after. Hongjoong was still sitting out, sipping on an apple juice and munching on a muffin somebody had found. You know that it happens sometimes, he had said, don’t worry, you know I just need to raise my blood sugar and rest a bit.

So they continued as seven. It was a bit more difficult now, the dance was made for eight and everything looked just a tiny bit off now. Maybe it was just Yunho, though. The earlier dizziness hadn’t vanished, in fact he now saw some members twice at times. It was confusing but Yunho was too tired to care. When he blinked everything returned to normal with his vision, so it was fine. A bit more annoying was the cold water that was sitting heavily in his stomach since he had drunk. It was a bit painful, a bit cramping and a bit nauseating. 

But it happened sometimes. It wasn’t the first time a member would need to sit out after eating or drinking too close to doing their extreme sport. It had been a rule to sit down when that happened ever since Jongho had thrown up on San’s shoes years ago. It was just a normal part of idol life.

Just, if Yunho sat out now, with Hongjoong already on the sidelines, then the practice would make no sense anymore. With two members missing the choreography wouldn’t work.

So Yunho carried on.

Despite the heat.

Despite the pain in his neck and back.

Despite the fact that he could barely see what was happening due to the stinging sweat in his eyes.

Despite the deafening music that seemed so much louder than normally, threatening to burst his ear drums or split his head.

Despite the nausea and pain in his belly that were becoming worse with every move.

⌛

“Alright, good job everybody”, the choreographer called out. 

“You did very well”, Hongjoong added, having joined them for the last few run-throughs. “Let’s go home for tonight.”

Wooyoung and San high fived each other and collapsed in an exhausted but happy pile on top of Yeosang, dragging their third down with them.

Seonghwa clapped Hongjoong on the back, asking one more time if he still felt faint, which the captain denied.

Jongho and Mingi were leaning on each other, panting but content.

Yunho’s knees buckled.

“Jong-”, he whispered, finding himself falling into the maknae’s direction. It hadn’t felt like his voice was very loud but apparently it was enough for the younger to hear him. It was a bit painful as he collided with Jongho’s shoulder, teeth rattling in his skull but at least he was lowered to the floor and didn’t bash his head in.

“Hyung”, Jongho called, his voice frantic, as he struggled to keep Yunho from falling even further. “Somebody help me!” 

His face was swimming in Yunho’s blurred eyesight. Yunho felt his back connect with the cool floor, the contact not painful at all. Then Jongho’s fingers tapped annoyingly against Yunho’s cheek. Hongjoong’s face entered his vision and gentle fingers started carding through his hair. Yunho closed his eyes, the bright overhead light stabbing at his retinas.

Suddenly yelling started up and the tapping on his cheeks became more pronounced. 

“Stop.” He wanted to protest loudly. It barely came out as a whisper.

“Don’t go to sleep, baby”, a familiar voice said. Right, Hongjoong-hyung. “Open your eyes for us, okay?”

“Too bright”, Yunho mumbled, turning his face towards the hand that was now caressing his cheek instead of tapping it. It was nice. Comforting. 

“He’s slurring and light-sensitive.” Was that Seonghwa? “Did he hit his head?”

Yunho wanted to protest, because Jongho had caught him. But no sound but a small whine left his lips.

“No, I caught him. I mean, he collided with my shoulder a bit but it wasn’t that bad”, Jongho said. His voice came from further away than expected. Hadn’t he just been by Yunho’s side? Who else was there?

Yunho blinked open his eyes, realizing that somebody had dimmed the lights. Still hot tears fell down his cheeks into his hair. Blinking to clear his vision he found himself surrounded by Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Mingi, all with similar faces of worry on their faces.

“There you are, love”, Seonghwa said, smiling down at Yunho. It was his hands in Yunho’s hair. “How are you feeling?” 

“Wha’ happ’n’?” The words were difficult to say, like lead was holding his tongue prisoner. 

“We were hoping you could tell us”, Hongjoong replied lightly, but even in his confused state Yunho could hear the underlying worry. “You collapsed against Jongho after practice ended. Do you have any idea what happened?”

Yunho tried to remember what had happened. He hadn’t been feeling well, had he? Hot. Loud. Sweaty. Pained. Nauseous.

Oh, God, the nausea.

Now that he remembered, he felt the churning in his stomach and the sourness at the back of his throat. 

“Don’ fe’ g’d”, he mumbled, swallowing.

The members discussed something over his head. Yunho was too tired to pay attention. So he just let his eyes slip shut. Now he wasn’t hot anymore but the shivering that was taking over his body covered in cold sweat wasn’t better. His head pounded. His neck felt stiff. Light and sound were exhausting. And he still was queasy.

Somebody started tapping his cheek again. Yunho groaned.

“Do you think you’re having a migraine?”, Mingi asked, a bit of hesitation in his voice. “You’re slurring. You seem to be in pain and you can’t tolerate sound and light well.”

… it made sense. A lot of sense. 

Yunho hadn’t even spared a thought to what made him so miserable but a migraine? That would explain a lot. The pain. The nausea. The general feeling of bah.

“Yeah”, he mumbled. “Think so.”

Hongjoong hummed in sympathy, knowing from first hand experience how bad it could be. And nearly fainting after practice was probably pretty bad.

“Do you think you can make it home?”, Seonghwa then questioned.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Yunho had no idea. 

Collapsing in a heap on the way would probably be very embarrassing but he, now that he first thought of it, wanted to be in a cold, dark room with a comfy bed and maybe Mingi cuddling him. It would not get better than that. But for that he also needed to get home. His thoughts were so fuzzy.

“Yeah”, he mumbled, hoping that it would work. 

“Let’s sit up first and see how it goes”, Hongjoong suggested, “how does your stomach feel?”

Oh yeah, that was a good question. Not very good, at all, was the answer. As if his body decided to react to Hongjoong without him having a say, Yunho gagged. 

There was a curse and then somebody shoved him into a sitting position. It was enough to also move his stomach up his throat. 

“Oh, Yunho”, Mingi whispered as Yunho bent forward and warm sick fell from his lips, the sound of it hitting a bucket echoing back at him. His stomach rolled and his head pounded and then he threw up again. And again. And again.

His heartbeat was drumming in his head and Yunho grit his teeth in a moment of respite, hoping to fight the nauseating pain. Now that he had started vomiting he knew that the real migraine pain would hit soon. What had happened before was just a warning, a mild pain compared to what would come. 

He groaned as more rancid throw up splattered into the bin, burning his throat, and he slumped forward even more. A blessedly-cool hand on his forehead stopped his descent head first into his own puke.

Then it was over. Somebody wiped the spit dangling from his lips away and a cold cloth washed away the sweat. Yunho was leaned back and he rested his head against the comforting shoulder of whoever sat behind him. Mingi?

The comforting rumble in the person’s chest clued him in as Mingi spoke. “Ready to go home?”

“Still feel sick”, Yunho muttered, only really realizing when he was speaking that indeed his stomach was still cramping unhappily. Maybe he really was out of it or maybe the nausea he felt was even more in his head and throat than in his stomach, uncomfortable nevertheless. 

“We got the bucket here, don’t worry”, Hongjoong said. 

“‘Kay.”

⌛

Yunho barely remembered the drive home. He was in a car with Mingi who was combing through his hair in a comfortable motion and Hongjoong was holding his hand, as far as he knew. A manager probably had been there too, because Seonghwa couldn’t drive and the others hadn’t been there. All Yunho could do was cling to the plastic of the bucket, comforted by knowing it was there.

Had he thrown up on the way home? Likely. He didn’t remember it though.  

Now, he was in bed, buried under a layer of cool sheets. The room was dark. Mingi was a warm weight by his side. Hongjoong’s fingers were carding through his hair.

It would likely not get better until the migraine went away.

So Yunho slept.

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - ATEEZ

[sellomaybe]

HAPPY HANNIE DAY 🐿️💗🎀💋

140924<3

[xoxo-sarah]

Do you think you could do a darylxreader where he takes it upon himself to teach her bushcraft skills bc her fire making skills are absolute trash despite her eagerness to prove they aren't. -❌️⭕️❌️⭕️

Patience

↝a/n: rushed but I hope you still like it! 🩷 Thanks for requesting.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 11.9.24

You tried ignoring the eye on you, but that didn't do much to help. If anything, it frustrated you more. The whole day was already too much. When you had agreed to go with Daryl, everything was fine. You were in a decent mood.

Then, a buck showed up. It was beautiful. The horns stood strong, the south twitching. It was looking around, glassy eyes shining. After admiring it, you reached back, right into the quiver on your back. Your fingers fumbled, and the arrow fell onto the crunchy leaves below. The buck was quick to run in the opposite direction.

As if on cue, your stomach growled. You threw your head back in frustration.

Daryl watched, brows furrowed. “I saw a squirrel over there.” He pointed to the left of where the buck had been standing. You stomped your way over, not saying anything to him.

Daryl carried the squirrels over his shoulder, thoughts running through his mind, thanks to the silence. You hadn't said a word since you two had left. He could see the gears turning in your own head.

“Stop right here. It's gettin' dark.” He hung the squirrels up on a nearby branch, sliding his bag off his shoulder. Shrugging the thin jacket off, he laid it on the ground, offering a little more comfort than the twigs and leaves of the wood floor.

Sitting down on the edge of the fabric, you shrugged your own bag off.

Scrounging up some leaves and twigs, you put it in a circular shape. Next, your hands were working quick to make a flame. Maybe too quick.

The frustration was growing on your brow. Again, Daryl silently watched.

Grumbling, you threw the sticks a few feet away.

You huffed, the twigs refusing to catch fire despite your best efforts. The frustration was boiling over.

Daryl watched for a moment before kneeling beside you. “Here, you're goin' too fast.”

You scoffed, “No I'm not.” He ignored you.

He took the flint and steel from your hands, demonstrating the proper technique with practiced ease.

You watched closely, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping in. “I know how to do it,” you muttered, though your tone lacked conviction.

Daryl smirked slightly, “Ain't about knowin'. It's about patience.” He handed the tools back to you. “Now, try again. Slow this time.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed his instructions, striking the flint with more control. This time, a small flame flickered to life, and your eyes widened with triumph.

“See? Told ya,” Daryl said, a hint of pride in his voice.

You smiled for the first time that day, the warmth of the fire matching the warmth spreading in your chest. “Thanks.”

He nodded, settling back against a tree. “No problem. We'll make a survivalist outta you yet.”

Your mood changed for the better. The frustration from before wasn't warranted. Truthfully, you couldn't remember why you were mad to begin with. Usually going into the woods with Daryl was relaxing. Today just wasn't one of those days, at least, not at the beginning. Now, you were willing to talk, even ask questions about survival tips and tricks.

“Do you ever get frustrated out here?”

Daryl looked at you, considering the question. “Yeah, sometimes. But that's part of it. Ain't always easy, but it's worth it.”

You nodded, taking in his words. “I guess I just need to be more patient.”

He chuckled softly. “Patience ain't somethin' you just have. It's somethin' you learn. And you're gettin' there.”

You felt a sense of relief wash over you. “Thanks, Daryl. For everything.”

“Anytime,” he replied, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Now, let's get these squirrels cookin'.”

You and Daryl made quick work of skinning the squirrels, bellies grumbling with hunger.

You felt something fall in your left hand. Stopping your movements, you looked up.

Another water droplet fell on your face, sliding down the side of your nose. Soon, more droplet fell between the tree leaves, sizzling on the fire. The frustration was quick to come back, “What the fu-”

Daryl glanced up at the sky, then back at you. “Looks like it's gonna pour.”

You sighed, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “Great, just what we need.”

He stood up, grabbing a tarp from his pack. “We gotta move fast. Help me set this up.”

Together, you worked quickly to rig up a makeshift shelter, the rain starting to fall more steadily. The fire sizzled and spat as the droplets hit it, but you managed to cover it just in time.

“Guess we won't be cooking those squirrels tonight,” you muttered, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Daryl shook his head. “We'll find a way. Always do.”

You couldn't help but admire his calm in the face of yet another challenge. “Doesn't any of this get to you?”

He shrugged, adjusting the tarp. “Been through worse. You learn to roll with it.”

As the rain continued to fall, you settled under the tarp, feeling a strange sense of peace despite the situation. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to understand what Daryl meant about patience and rolling with the punches.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[zeytinfilizi]

[rsier]

happy birthday hobi🐿

my eternal sunshine

[intrikatie]

[mrbhilalbn]

[straykidsnews]

HAN 🐿️💌

[22/06/24] 1:56 AM KST

🎙 : Singing 2 "Goodbye" by Ash Island ft. Paul Blanco

•••♪•••♪•••♪•••♪•••♪•••♪•••♪•••♪•••♪•

[22/06/24] 1:59 AM KST

: Ah this is not my song. It’s Ash Island goodbye haha

[bebecue]

googled my own name to see what would come up for prospective employers and the 7th result is a scathing review i left for a young adult book written by a local author on a blogspot where i used to log the books i read when i was like.... 11...... like the blog no longer exists but someone had compiled reviews for this book on another site almost 2 decades ago and there mine is right in the middle of it and i really hated this book with a passion because i wrote several PARAGRAPHS and signed the review off with my full fucking name im cyriknxdvfkodns