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mushrubes · 2 years ago

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Underneath

Masterlist | The walking dead Masterlist

Part one | Part three

Requested : No

Song : The Beach - The Neighbourhood

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x reader (No use of Y/n)

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : fluff + angst

Contents : mutual pinning, slightly canon divergent, best friends :)

Word count : 1.5k

Have a great day / night !!

—---

If I meet you in the middle maybe we could agree

"Na." Daryl shrugged, turning away from you and giving Rick his attention. "Oh, come on! Really, Daryl?" you scoffed, face plaming at his words. "Look, we need as many people as we can get." Rick tried to reason, sending you an apologetic look about Drayl's reaction. The hunter was silent, turning away and continuing to clean his arrows. "Daryl, he needs more people." you repeated, siding with Rick. To be honest, you had been dying to get out of the town, wanting to do at least something.

"Not yer." he continued, turning to now face you, lifting his gaze up to meet yours. Although he had his usual stern and tough expression, you could see the mix of fear and concern both in the way he was looking at you and his reaction to Rick's news. You reached out, hand pressing softly to his bicep. He stayed still for a few seconds before moving his arm, grunting.

It was evident he was still uncertain about letting you help the group out on the run. "C'mon brother, meet me halfway." Rick pleaded, his hands on his hips as you tried to think of a possible solution. "Meet us halfway, Dixon. I'll come with you instead of Glenn's group, and help you." you suggested, seeing him immediately get less tense.

"Fine."

You make me feel little how you're looking at me

"What was yer thinkin'?" Daryl raised his voice, pacing back and forth as you sat in the chair. While you had been on the run, there happened to be more walkers than the four of you had anticipated, resulting in all of you having to rush out as Abraham came up with a quick resolution. When getting out of the building, you had been too concentrated on surviving and didn't realise the long, deep gash on your shin, the sprained ankle making it harder for you to walk. His leather jacket was currently tied across your leg in a makeshift bandage, as best as he could, trying to stop the bleeding even the smallest bit.

"Stop looking at me like that." you mumbled, his intense stare putting you off. You stared at the ground, legs dangling off the seat. He didn't mean this rant harshly - you knew that. He was concerned about you getting hurt, but the looks he gave you when this stuff happened, it made you feel small and weak. The fact you relied on him made you feel guilty, but this, on top of everything made it worse. "This is why I don't want yer out." he grumbled, missing the broken look on your face. "I can't jus' babysit yer every time!" he lectured, biting his tongue as he saw your eyes gloss slightly.

The door opened, footsteps getting closer before the person appeared. Carol walked in, tentatively looking between the pair of you as she could sense the tension. "Everything okay?" she cautiously questioned, walking over and sitting in the chair next to you. You hummed, the floor yet again being more interesting. She looked up at Daryl, giving him a look that read 'We'll talk about this later'. "Daryl was just leaving." you said simply, not giving him a glance. He didn't respond, opening his mouth but then closing it. He walked over, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head and sparing you a glance before walking out.

He was so complicated.

And you can throw me shade, all it does is just cool me off

"Okay, what happened?" Carol asked, putting the tray into the oven as Daryl took a seat on the barstool opposite begrudgingly. "Had a go at 'em. It was a stupid thing to do." he shrugged, acting as if it were no big deal. She turned to face him, leaning against the side with her arms folded in her chest as she sighed at him. "Daryl." she warned, trying to help him calm down. She walked around, pulling the stool next to him out and sitting down. "You can't fool me." she whispered, brushing the hair out of his eyes and frowning as she saw his eyes get glossy.

"I was there." he groaned, holding his head in his hands as Carol's hand rested on his back, rubbing up and down comfortingly. "It wasn't your fault." she assured him, but he didn't believe it. He never did. No matter what happened or who it was, if something happened to anyone that he was with on a run or anything, he immediately felt guilty, like he had failed at protecting them. It hit even harder with you, swearing to himself to always keep you out of harm's way even if that meant putting himself at risk. Carol stood up, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"They'll pull through." she assured, getting up and leaving him with his thoughts.

First it just threw me off, now I'm just moving on

Sitting down in the chair, he placed the flowers Carol had asked him to bring on the bedside table. His knee bounced anxiously, taking in your peaceful figure. Luckily, the damage hadn't been too horrid. You had a few stitches on your leg and your ankle should be okay in a day or so. Eventually, you moved about, fidgeting in the bed and stretching which broke Daryl out of his stance. "Mornin'" he spoke, nervously waiting for your response. You froze for a second, soon smiling as you realised he was there. "Hey." you smiled weakly, turning to face him.

Silence swept over the room for a few minutes, the pair of you debating over what to say or do. Your hands had intertwined at some point, Daryl's grip slightly hard as if you were going to fade away otherwise. Your thumb rubbed up and down comfortingly as he snapped out of his thoughts again. "'m sorry." he mumbled, his voice cracking slightly as you chuckled. He was normally very stubborn, reluctant to apologise but by the way he was acting and the evident proof of the lack of rest he had gotten, you knew he felt bad.

"It's fine, Daryl. You were just looking out for me." you spoke, seeing him perk up slightly as he realised you knew how he felt despite him not having to say anything. "Did you get any rest last night?" you asked, frowning as your hand cupped his cheek, heating up slightly. "Na. Was worrin' bout yer. I should've got yer out." he grumbled, still accusing himself for the state you were in.

"Hey, it could've been worse." you lightly joked, moving over and tapping the side of the bed to signal for him to lay next to you. He didn't argue for once, complying with you and carefully lying down, not wanting to knock your leg. "It wasn't your fault." you whispered, caressing his cheek as he pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand. "Jus' want yer safe." he huffed, his eyes full of adoration.

"I'm always safe with you."

Fallin' again, I need a pick-me-up

"Be safe." you pleaded, handing him his crossbow after he pulled his vest on. "Don' worry bout me. I'll be back later." he assured, kissing your temple before walking over to the other group, making you chuckle as he turned into his usual 'tough' self, threatening one of the other's as he made a comment about him. "What's going on with you two?" Rick asked, holding Judith in his arms as she played with some of his hair. You turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. "What?" you questioned, feeling yourself get flustered.

"Oh c'mon, everyone can see it." he huffed, smirking at you as Michonne walked out, humming in agreement. "Not wrong." she grinned before heading down the steps, greeting another person. "What about you two?" you huffed, trying to change the topic but he stopped you. "I asked first." he chuckled, handing Judith to Carl who walked back inside with her, probably going to feed her. "Nothing." you sighed, turning to where the group was, watching Daryl get onto his bike.

"That's a lie. I've known you forever and you've never looked at anyone like that." he argued, making you sigh as you knew he was right, not able to argue. "He doesn't feel the same Rick. Leave it." you grumbled, not wanting to dwell on the subject any more than you already did. The hope building inside of you, the head or cheek kisses Daryl gave you before he left you alone, the hugs and moments shared between you - it was platonic. There was no way he would feel the same as you did, you were so sure of it. "He doesn't treat us like he treats you. Not even Carol." he tried to assure, knowing it wouldn't be much help.

You were in love with your best friend, but there was no way he'd ever know it.

----

Part one | Part three

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gwiyeounsonyeon · 3 months ago

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i just watched dinner in america and all i have to say is that its so daryl dixon x weird male reader coded

#x male reader #dinner in america #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x male reader #twd daryl dixon #daryl #daryl x reader

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pretentiousgayguyidk · 1 year ago

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~Flowers For You~

(Name) huffed, pacing around camp and running his fingers through his hair stressfully. He had been doing this for the past hour. It was getting late, although his watch was probably off, it didn't make it any better. 8:23 it read.

"Son? Why don't you take a seat, you- you're wearing yourself thin with all this- pacing!" The elderly man fretted, waving his hands around as he called out to the stressed man. (Name) sighed, his brows pinched with worry and his hair in disarray from him messing with it. He turned to Dale, crossing his arms and hugging himself.

"He should have been back by now, Dale! What if something happened? We all know Shane and Rick ain't gonna look for him... And nobody's gonna let me go after him..." He trailed off, swallowing hard as more nasty images of what could have happened out there. Dale nodded a little in understanding, stepping a little closer to his younger companion.

"Look, it'll all be okay. I- Daryl is tough, he can handle himself. Probably just found something and got caught up." The elder man reassured, gently patting (Name) on the shoulder. (Name) hugged himself tighter, knawing at his lip.

"He took a horse. There's no way he would have been out this long... Even if he got caught up- or found something he would have been back by now. I mean, Rick and Shane got back hours ago! All of the groups got back hours ago." He ranted, throwing his hands every which-a-way. Distress was practically oozing from every pore on the man's body.

"Walker. Walker!" Andrea cried out from the RV. Rick ran out of his tent looking up at Andrea with concern. (Name) felt his stomach drop a little, he clutched onto his biceps harder.

"Dale, binoculars." He demanded, a bad feeling settling into his stomach. The older man nodded, handing the object over.

"Is it just the one?" He asked, she nodded and aimed her rifle. (Name) raised the binoculars, trying to see the walker through the glare. He could barely see it, there's no way Andrea could hit it from here.

"I think I can nail it from here!" She shouted, cocking her gun. Rick raised his hand as Shane and the others grabbed their weapons. (Name) sighed, pulling out his knife and running with the other's as Rick shouted something about Hershel wanting to deal with it.

Now (Name) was cursing himself for being a lazy shut in, his legs ached and his lungs burned as he ran. He wasn't the most physically inclined, usually staying back with the women and kids to watch over the farm instead of searching. He leaned against his knees, wheezing a little as he caught his breath.

Fear struck him harder than lightning. The very man he was fretting over was standing before him. Drenched in blood, limping, ears strung around his neck.

"Is that Daryl?" Glen whispered, everyone stood on silent fear as Daryl swayed.

"That's the third time you pointed that thing at my head! You gonna pull the trigger or what?" Everyone sighed with relief when the redneck spoke. (Name) stepped a little closer and opened his mouth to say something. The loud crack of Andrea's rifle echoed throughout the fields as blood splaters, Daryl fell to the ground.

"Daryl!?" (Name) screamed, falling down to the arbalist's side and gently turning his head. The bullet grazed him. His ears rang as the shot echoed through his head, he watched in a daze as the others lifted his close friend who had fallen unconscious.

"He lost a good amount of blood, probably needs at least one transfusion. Do any of you know his blood type?" Hershel asked, looking between (Name), Shane, and Rick. They all shake their heads.

"No... But you can still take mine." (Name) stated, stepping forward with his arm held out. Hershel and the others were about to object. "My blood types O-."

"Well. That makes this a whole lot easier. Better hope that you don't ever need a transfusion yourself." The old man stated, cleaning off a needle and carefully inserting it into the young man's arm, carefully drawing the blood. The young man winced, looking the other way - glancing down at Daryl, who was still unconscious. (Name) gave the unconscious man a weak smile, silently thanking his mostly safe return.

After the one transfusion along with several stitches, Daryl was mostly okay, aside from a slight concussion. If it weren't for the bolt he probably would have been up and about by now. Yet (Name) wasn't one to complain, just glad his hillbilly friend was okay.

It took Rick and Shane shooing him away before he left Daryl's side, even after that Daryl never strayed to far from his mind. With a stressed sigh (Name) finds himself walking along the forest line, as he walks he freezes. Within the forest he can hear raspy growling of a hungry Walker. He shakily pulls out his knife and inches closer to the sound.

A women, crushed under a mossy log lay there, clawing and scraping at the dirt and air. A few feet to her left were the sprouts of delicate buds of dark maroon roses. (Name) smile a little, carefully stepping closer without getting grabbed to pluck the fullest bud. It wasn't in full bloom but it was deffinatly close, any other occasion he would have let it grow more - but with the recent incident he couldn't help but pluck it.

He gently cradled the flower as he plunged his knife into the walkers skull, finally putting the gardener to rest.

With a soft smile playing on his lips (Name) happily made his way home, tying up his (light/dark) hair. It had gotten so long already, Carol had given him a hair tie to help.

"Dale? You got anything I could use as like... A vase?" The younger man questioned, peaking into the camper. Dale blinked a little, then turning and somewhat speratically looking around. He eventually settled in opening a cabinet and handing (Name) a cup.

"Here you go son, you giving it to someone?" The elder asked, gesturing to the flower. (Name) nodded slowly, looking vaguely in the direction of Hershel's house. The young man clearly had someone in mind... And Dale caught on quick, smiling at the young adult. "Go ahead and give it to him, I'll uh... Distract Shane and Rick if I have to."

"Thank you Dale," the young man says, smiling lopsidedly with a new pep in his step - his heart no longer as heavy as he holds the budding rose in the cup close to his chest.

He sneaks his way into the house with the help of Maggie, the younger woman distracting her dad a little as (Name) slipped into the guest room... Surprised to see Daryl awake.

"Hell d'you want..." the arbalist grumbles. (Name) smiles sheepishly, gently setting the flower aside... It wasn't much, but it was something.

"I just... Wanted to check up on you, you feeling alright? Well... As alright as you can." He says with a soft chuckle, which inturn made Daryl grunt in his lazy laugh manner.

"About as fine and dandy as I can... Whatever, I found a lead on the little girl - that's all that matters 'round here." He says, grunting as he tries to sit up a little - some of the scarring on his chest and back catching (Name)'s eye... Though he didn't question it.

"A lead?" He asks, sitting at the side of the bed - which Daryl accepted surprisingly enough. The messy archer grunted a little, his usual lazy reply to any conversation.

"Found her doll, she could'a gone to the little neighborhood or somethin'." He says, pulling the doll out of his waistband - shaking it slightly to emphasize what he said. (Name) nods, gently placing his hand over Daryl's - a subconscious gesture that almost got him slapped away... Key word almost.

"You did good on her today, ain't no one gonna give you shit... If they try I'll knock their teeth out." He says in a light hearted way, knowing that Daryl isn't one for sentimentals... (Name) didn't mind finding round about ways to talk about it.

"Yeah yeah... Whatever, thanks for the flower..." Daryl grumbles, sounding annoyed but (Name) knew Daryl was grateful... And (Name) does something surprising... He kisses Daryl's temple, that is before standing up and turning to walk away.

"Get some rest..." He whispers, leaving before the slightly flustered and confused redneck could respond... "The hell was that?"

#male reader #fluff #daryl x male reader #flowers #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x male reader #male reader x walking dead #gay daryl dixon #gay #queer #mlm only

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janiehellion · 6 months ago

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𝚮𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝛐𝐮𝐜𝐡 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: When Daryl Dixon is injured and stuck in bed, he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of being pampered by the group. But you? You’re more than ready to take care of him—and show him just what it means to be a good boy. Think Daryl Dixon’s all rough and tough? Think again...

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Handjob ⋮ Teasing ⋮ Edging ⋮ Orgasm Control

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.033 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S2E05 & S2E06 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: GenderNeutral!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, the Georgia sun burning down on you as you walked over to Maggie and Glenn outside of the house on Hershel's farm.

Every so often, you'd look towards the cars where a few others in the group were working, trying to make the most of the now limited supplies you all had left at the moment.

"I got a lot of corn here," Maggie said, holding up a can. "Maybe we can make some soup tonight. What do you think?"

Glenn laughed, "Soup sounds fine, I think. As long as we don’t have to eat beans again. I think I’m starting to sprout beans myself."

"Hey Maggie," you shouted over to her. "How’s everything going so far? You two need any help?"

Maggie gave you a small, but rather distracted, smile. "It’s been a quiet run, so we’re okay. We just came back a few minutes ago with some new supplies."

You nodded. "That's good. Means we won't starve anytime soon. Hey, listen, I heard Daryl’s still inside the house. Do you know how he is feeling? I really hope he is feeling better. Everything that has happened, I just... I don't know. I still can't wrap my head around it."

"Well, dad took care of him, just like he did with Carl, so I wouldn't worry too much about his condition. And if it would've worsened, dad would've told Rick already, that's for sure. But what has happened to him out there, and then the bullet? I don't know him well enough, but I think that he’s too stubborn to admit he even needed help in the first place. And that ear necklace? I'm sorry, but that was beyond creepy."

You remembered… Daryl has been out there, trying to find Sophia again. Of course, it all had to go sideways. You didn't know the details exactly, but you remembered how he had dragged himself back to the farm, looking like he’d been through hell and back. Covered in dirt and blood, and barely conscious.

Then, just when things couldn’t get any worse, Andrea took a shot at him from the roof of the RV. She’d been told to hold off by Rick, Shane, and Dale, but she fired anyway, hitting Daryl in the head, with the bullet grazing his temple.

"I’ll check on him," you now said, putting the supplies aside again. "You're right, he's too stubborn to admit it, but he needs someone to make sure he’s not pushing himself too hard. And if he could, he'd already be out there again."

As you walked towards the farmhouse, you passed by Rick, who was busy organizing and looking through different maps. He looked up at you, giving you a nod. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding rather exhausted. "Are you going to check on Daryl? Or are you going to help Beth and Lori in the kitchen?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Daryl's been through hell while trying to find Sophia."

"Good idea. He’s definitely been through a lot, that's true. I mean, we all have. But just… be careful with him. You know how Daryl is."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know, Rick. That’s why I’m going to make sure he stays put and tied to the bed. Don't worry."

As you walked into the farmhouse, you could hear a voice coming from the kitchen, where Lori was preparing a meal with Beth together for Daryl and the rest of the group.

"Hello," Lori said and looked at you. "Are you going to see Daryl, or do you want to help us? Rick has been annoying me with me apparently needing help, even though Beth is helping me already."

You nodded, giving her a smile back. "Don't worry, Lori. I want to make sure Daryl's alright, you know, after everything that has happened lately."

She gave you a quick and thankful thumbs up before you continued heading to the room in which Daryl was in, but paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath. The thought of Daryl lying there, probably still hurt and so vulnerable, made your heart ache. He’d always been so strong, but seeing him in such a state was hard to imagine. And just as you were about to open the door, you heard a voice coming from the inside of the room.

You stopped, listening for a moment before pushing open the door to find Hershel standing by Daryl’s bedside.

"Evening, Hershel," you said as you entered the room, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach.

Hershel looked up, smiling at the sight of you. "Hey there, good to see you. I could use an extra pair of hands."

You moved closer to the bed, where Daryl lay, and Hershel continued, "Daryl’s been in and out of consciousness yesterday most of the time, but I’m hopeful he’ll recover fast if he gets the rest he needs. And if you could help changing the rest of the bandages right now, that would be great."

You nodded, taking a closer look at Daryl. "Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I know he can be stubborn, but he needs to take it easy eventually."

"That’s the spirit. I’ve done what I can for now. He’ll need the rest."

You were still looking at Daryl as Hershel took a few steps back, who now moved slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes opened just a little bit, and he looked at you with confusion.

"Hey, tough guy," you said. "How are you holding up so far?"

"Just peachy, as always," he answered rather annoyed.

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer. He certainly sounded like the Daryl Dixon that you all knew so far. "Well, I’m here now, so you’d better let me take care of you."

Hershel gave you another nod before finally walking out of the room. "Good, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, like more bandages, don’t hesitate to ask. We still got enough medical supplies left if needed."

"Thanks, Hershel," you replied, watching as he left the room.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task ahead.

"What’re ya even doin’ here?" Daryl suddenly mumbled. "'M fine. Don’t need no babysittin’ bullshit. Ain't needin' ya 'round here either."

You gave him a smile, trying to hide how annoyed you already were with his usual behavior. "You’re obviously not fine, Daryl. You’ve been through a lot, and you know it. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like trying to get up and do something you shouldn’t."

He grumbled in frustration, trying to turn away from you. "Yeah… whatever."

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. "Yeah... Too bad, huh? Because right now, that means letting me help you."

"Ain’t nothin’ you can do that Hershel didn’t already do," he mumbled again.

You set down the small medical kit Hershel had brought with him and pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Hershel did his part, sure, but it’s not just about the wounds. You need to rest and relax, and that’s where I come in. Also, taking off the old bandages and putting on new ones isn't that hard, but I doubt that you can do it yourself. And Hershel just left the room, so it's up to me now to change the rest of them. I don't care if you complain about it or not."

You then began to carefully take off the bandages from his side, where the crossbow bolt had pierced itself through. Daryl winced a little, but he didn’t complain so far, his pride keeping him quiet even though you could see how uncomfortable it was for him.

"You know, for someone who’s always acting so tough, you’re a real damn mess right now," you said, trying to break the ice with a bit of humor. "How’d you end up like that anyway? What even happened out there?"

Daryl smirked a bit to himself. "Ya think I’m gonna tell ya a story now? Hell, jus' get it over with."

You shook your head and laughed quietly, focusing on cleaning the wound first. "Hey, I'm not the one that looks like the wrong side of the bed became sentient and beat the ever-loving shit out of you. So you’re going to have to deal with me being the one to help you. It’s either that or I get someone else who’s less careful."

"Less careful?" Daryl asked, and he winced again as you applied antiseptic to the wound. "Sounds to me like yer enjoyin’ this."

You stopped for a moment and looked at him with a teasing smile. "You know what? Maybe I really am enjoying this. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not going to cause us any more trouble, even though we all appreciate what you did. Especially Carol."

"Ya think I need ya to look after me? I can handle myself jus' fine," he grumbled and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at you anymore.

You soon finished cleaning the wound and then continued with the fresh bandages. "Oh, I’m sure you can, Dixon. But that’s not even the point. The point is, you’re not in any shape to be running around and playing redneck cowboy."

Daryl moved slightly again, trying to get more comfortable. "Ain't in need to be told twice. Thank ya very much."

You stopped wrapping the bandage around him, waiting for him to get into a more comfortable position. "Stop it with the damn sarcasm, Daryl. For someone who’s always trying to play it cool, you’re really not doing a great job of hiding how much this is bothering you. You do realize that looking weak and needing help are two different things, right? You're far from being weak, and you've done much more for this group than you can probably imagine, even if you're doubting yourself and telling yourself that it's all bullshit in the end." You told him and then continued, putting on the final bandage. "But it's not. And right now, you need to let yourself be looked after, and you need to give us the chance to care about you. Even if it's only for once."

There was a moment of silence, and for a second he looked at you only to look away again, clearly struggling with giving you an honest answer about what he thinks.

You took a deep breath. "Alright, I’m done with the bandages. How about a quick check of your other injuries?"

Daryl nodded quickly, but you could see he was starting to relax a bit. "Yeah, fine. Jus'… make it quick, will ya? Ain't got no time for this bullshit."

You smiled and began checking his other wounds. "So, what’s your actual excuse for not telling us what has happened?"

"Ain't worth tellin’. Jus' 'nother day of me bein’ stupid," he grumbled back as an answer.

Soon enough, you finished checking his other wounds and stood up, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re all patched up, try to get some rest. We’re all counting on you to be back on your feet soon; don't forget that."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I’ll try to stay outta trouble while bein' tied to this damn bed."

You smiled and began to pack up the antiseptic and unused bandages, putting them back into the small medical kit. "That’s all I ask for. Get some sleep, Daryl. You know you need it. Something to eat will be ready soon."

As you put away the last of the bandages, you noticed how tense Daryl seemed to be. So you decided to take an extra moment to help him relax, thinking how a little extra care couldn’t hurt.

Your fingers soon massaged his side as you sat down once more, careful not to touch the wound. It was meant to ease the tense muscles around it a bit, but as your hands moved over his skin, you felt that he seemed to react differently when he gasped slightly.

"Ya really don’t have to," he started, but he stopped talking as you continued, your touch slow and feeling soothing.

You looked up, now looking into his eyes. "Why not? You’re all tense. And it’s not just about the injuries; your whole body’s been through a lot. A little extra care might help. There's nothing wrong with it."

He grunted, trying to remain tough, but his breathing grew heavier, betraying his growing discomfort, and you noticed how his body responded to your touch—a reaction he was clearly trying to hide.

His cock began to harden under the sheets. The outline of it was becoming more pronounced, and you could see the rise of the sheets with each breath he took.

You tried to ignore the current awkwardness of the situation, but it was impossible not to notice, and even more impossible not to look at it. Your fingers stopped, and you hesitated momentarily before continuing to massage his side, with Daryl’s eyes squeezed shut and another groan escaping his lips.

"Ugh... Daryl?" You asked quietly, your voice full of curiosity as you realized what was happening. "Are you… okay?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head away from you. "Yeah, jus', jus' let it be. Shit, jus' stop!"

But you couldn’t ignore the evident hardening beneath the sheets anymore. As you moved slightly in your seat to get a little bit closer to him, your hand accidentally brushed against his cock, and Daryl’s reaction was immediate—he sucked in a breath, his body tensing even more.

"Ain’t needin’ ya to… to be all handsy now, goddamn it!" Daryl's voice was trembling, his body shaking a bit, and his muscles straining, even as you didn't continue to massage him. But the sudden power you had over him was intoxicating, and you decided to take your chance and act on it.

You reached down and carefully pulled back the sheets covering his lower body. Daryl’s breathing hitched as you exposed him, and his cock was already hard, pushing against his pants. You could see it clearly now, the visible outline of it.

You smirked at him as you pulled the waistband of his pants down, just enough to pull his cock out and free it from his underwear.

As you pulled it out, Daryl's eyes widened as he watched you handle him. There was no need for words; the look on his face said it all. He felt vulnerable.

You gave him a smile, your hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. "You look like you're about to lose it, Dixon."

He glared back at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. "Ain’t fair, ya know…"

You leaned in close to him, your lips touching his ear. "Well, who said life was fair?" Your hand started to move, giving his cock a slow, torturous stroke that had him groaning. "But maybe… if you ask nicely…"

"God… Please," he groaned again, but it was clear he wasn’t used to begging, yet the desperation in his voice was there beyond doubt.

"Good boy," you murmured, and you could see how his eyes slowly closed as he gave in to your touch and words.

You soon picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, his hips bucking into your hand. "Shit, jus' like that," he moaned, his eyes squeezing shut even more tightly.

Fuck… How he wanted it. Your hand working his cock, making him forget about everything that has happened…

You could tell he was close already. His cock twitched in your hand, and the quiet sounds he was making were turning more desperate. "Please," he gasped again. "I… I can’t..."

"Oh? Already, huh?" You teased him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum over it that had gathered there.

You smirked, enjoying the power you had over him. "Do you like this?" You teased him further.

"Yeah, jus' like that…" He panted, his body trembling. "Please... I need ya to touch me more. Can't fuckin' take it..."

"Touch you where, Daryl? Use your words. Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you want."

"My damn dick... please, jus' touch it." You immediately switched your pace back to pump him slowly again, and each stroke of your hand made him shiver, his moans growing a little louder with every touch.

His hips bucked involuntarily, but you kept your rhythm controlled, never speeding up, not letting him get the orgasm he wanted so desperately.

"I thought you were a tough guy. But look at you—so damn needy already. Come on, Daryl," you mumbled. "You’re not done yet. Not until I say so."

He whimpered, trying to thrust into your hand, but you stopped him, keeping him on edge.

"Fuck, please…" He groaned in frustration. "Don’t stop… jus' fuckin' finish me off already!"

You laughed, your grip tightening just enough to torture him a little more. "And why would I do that? You need to learn so much more about patience."

With each stroke, you used different pressure and speed, sometimes going slower just when he thought he was about to finally cum. The feeling was almost unbearable for Daryl, and you could see it in the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again and again, his breathing only coming out in gasps.

"How does it feel, Daryl? Being held on the edge like this?" You asked, looking over at the door to listen if somebody was coming closer.

"Shit, feels so damn good…" He gasped, his voice strained. "I jus' need… I need to… Fuck!"

You smiled, leaning closer to him once more when you were sure that you'd be left alone. "Not yet, tough guy. I want to see just how much you can take."

You continued your teasing, your strokes slow and torturous. "You can take it. I know you can. You want it, don’t you? You want to make me finish you so badly, but you’re going to have to earn it," you whispered.

Daryl could only nod. "Please… Hell, I can't take much more!"

He couldn't take it anymore. The teasing—it was all too much. He wanted to cum. And he needed you to make him cum. Hell, he loved it. Your hand pumping his cock, teasing him, making him groan with need. The way you toyed with him, bringing him so close only to pull back? Shit, he was losing it… And the way your fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking it just right… It was driving him insane.

You simply grinned, feeling excited because of the power you held over him. "But that's good. Because I want you to remember this. Remember how much you wanted it and how much I made you wait."

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to give in.

With that, you continued to edge him, every touch, every stroke keeping him on the brink, pushing him to the limit of his own control.

And the feeling of sliding your hand back and forth along his thick shaft, the way he groaned and moaned quietly, trying to keep himself quiet just for you—it was everything you wanted...

"Fuck, please," he moaned again, his voice now breaking slightly.

His cock was pulsing in your hand and still leaking pre-cum, and you knew this was the moment he might not be able to hold back any longer. And just when he was about to finally stumble over the edge, you stopped pumping him completely, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.

Daryl’s eyes flew open in shock, anger, and need. "What the fuck?" He growled, his voice hoarse. "Why’d ya stop?"

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Because I wanted to see you beg for it, Daryl. And you’re not quite there yet."

He glared at you in need, his cheeks red, and sweat started to form on his body. "Ya can’t jus' leave me like this! Please!"

"Oh, but I can," you answered with a smirk. "And I will. Unless you really beg for it."

Daryl closed his mouth, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitching around as he gritted his teeth, his pride and ego fighting with his desperate need. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow.

"Please, please, let me cum," he whispered and finally started to beg and whimper a little more. "Please! I can't take it anymore. Please…"

God... How much he needed you. Desperately. Your hands, your touch, everything about the way you teased and pumped him, the way you handled him… It was like you knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed, and you were giving it to him for free, if only he would beg for it...

You smiled, satisfied with his response. "That’s better. Now, let’s see how much more you can take."

You went back to your teasing, your hand moving slowly over his cock, feeling him twitch and pulse again with every touch. His moans grew a little louder, even more desperate, as you brought him to the edge again and again, only to stop just before he could finally cum.

By the time you finally decided to give him what he needed, Daryl was nothing more than a trembling and pleading mess, his hips bucking toward you again and again, his eyes now looking desperatly at you.

"Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Daryl," you whispered quietly. "Look at you, trying to keep quiet for me, trying to hold back so hard. Taking it like you should… Don't stop looking at me."

You sped up, your movements rough and fast, giving him no time to adjust to the now quick pace. His body was shaking, and you could feel he was more than ready to snap.

"Yeah, you want to cum so bad, don’t you?" You teased. "Go on, Daryl. Cum for me. Show me how much you need it. How much you want it."

With a choked groan, Daryl's body tensed. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing in your grip as he came all over your hand. You kept pumping him through it, milking every last drop out of him.

"Oh, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" You mumbled. "Let it all out. You did so well for me."

He collapsed back against the bed, completely spent and exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You reached for a towel next to the small medical kit, wiping your hand and cleaning up carefully, making sure not to leave any evidence of what had just happened behind, before you looked down at Daryl, a wide smile on your face.

"Fuck," he panted. "That was… fuck..."

"Told you I’d take care of you," you answered him, giving him a wink.

He opened his eyes, looking at you quite exhausted. "Yeah, ya did…"

He didn’t protest as you cleaned him up; he just watched and stared at you with those intense blue eyes, still catching his breath with his mouth slightly open.

"There," you said, as you were finishing everything up. "All cleaned up again."

Daryl didn’t say anything for now, just giving you a small and a little ashamed nod as you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty face.

"Get some rest now, tough guy," you whispered, pulling back and standing up. "You’re gonna need it. Remember: Be a good boy for me."

"Yeah… I... I..." He grunted in response, unable to even finish his thoughts after hearing your words, which were still making his head spin.

You simply smirked, heading towards the door. "Anytime, Daryl. Anytime."

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied as well. Daryl Dixon might be tough as hell, but in that moment, he was completely and totally yours.

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thewalkingdilf · 7 months ago

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can we all just agree that daryl would definitely love to smoke a cigarette while you ride his thigh.

his sex drive hasn’t always been able to compare to yours, and him being a decent bit older than you definitely doesn’t help, but he could never deny a little angel like you the pleasure that you craved so badly.

so there you were, propping yourself up in his lap excitedly, getting yourself settled in the perfect position on his denim-clad thigh, with help from daryl’s strong arms keeping you steady while you adjusted yourself, of course.

the cigarette not only helped him relax in his own way, just as you were relaxing by making a mess of his strong thigh- it also served as a way for him to stall, to test your patience, a sort of timer if you will.

you’d rut yourself against him, whining and blubbering about how bad you needed him, meanwhile he’d continue to sit back in his chair, gripping your waist with one hand while the other would be raised toward his mouth, taking a long, deep draw from the cigarette, gently blowing the smoke toward you.

occasionally, if he was in an extra good mood that day, he’d flip his cigarette around in his fingers, resting it between your lips for you to take a couple puffs as well. he was typically against you smoking; he didn’t want someone like you falling into such a bad habit like him, but he couldn’t deny how much he loved to see you like that in the moment; fucking yourself against him so desperately while you blow the smoke in his face, the small nicotine buzz making you feel a bit lightheaded and dizzy, adding to your overwhelming pleasure.

“don’t worry baby, i’ll make you feel good, just lemme finish my smoke, yeah? you can be patient and do that for me, can’t ya’?”

“daryl, please.”

“not yet baby, yer being so good f’ me, i know you can wait a lil’ longer.”

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kissesfordaryl · 8 months ago

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intertwined, sewn together.

daryl dixon & his lover best friend.

(soft daryl hcs bc i love him)

daryls first instinct is to push you away. he felt that the rest of the group saw through him and only recognized his brother, but not you. never you. he didnt know why you were so nice to him- didnt even believe that you were genuine. but you persisted and eventually managed to weasel your way past his walls, following him everywhere he went. he realizes that hes most true to himself when hes with you.

you two are practically attached to the hip, never seen without each other. half the time youre not even doing anything special, only being in each others presence. as soon as youre away from him, hes asking around to see where youve gone.

you loved sneaking away from the rest of the group and into the forest, following the sounds of rushing water or watching the wildlife scurry past. although daryl knew the woods better than you, he let you lead the way.

as you secure a spot along the river, he settles in besides you, knees knocking against yours, his crossbow forgotten to the side. you pretend not to notice, but sometimes he'll stare at you for moments on end, a small smile forming.

youre basically the only one who can make him laugh- full on belly laugh. your arm is draped around his shoulders as you whisper jokes no one else can catch, and then hes doubling over in concealed laughter, a hand coming up to hide his smile.

its always just been normal to share everything between you, from food to deodorant to blankets to tents to beds to drinks. there was no yours or his. just an ours.

as new additions to the group come along, they always get the impression of daryl being rather intimidating or quiet. theyre always surprised when he sees him with you: laughing like a school-kid and bickering over something stupid.

no one else is surprised when he shows up wearing your clothes and getting defensive at all the stares hed be getting. "what? all my clothes are dirty, s'not my fault."

he only lets either carol or you call him stupid nicknames. the stupider it gets, the more funny.

one time on a run, you found these matching necklaces. he scoffs when you hand it to him, but makes you put it on for him. hes never seen without it again- and will lose his shit if he loses it.

most of the time, he'll listen to you babble on about whatever, but he could talk your ear off just as much. you laughed at how expressive he could get, hands waving around as he explained his distaste to a certain topic.

no one knows when you got together, in fact they like to make bets on it- but one random day youre leaning down to press a kiss to his lips like youve been doing that forever- and everyone just continues on.

while i was making this it crashed and didnt save so i had to write this twice.. (p.s. ive got a couple requests so know im working on all of them! just wanted to post something.. i write super slow sorry 😭)

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x male reader #darylxmalereader #kissesfordaryl #the walking dead #daryl dixon imagines #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl dixon drabbles #bottom daryl dixon

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grimespial · 8 months ago

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Same Differences.

Daryl Dixon x Younger Male reader who has the opposite coping mechanism

At first he thought you were just some kid like Glenn, uncomfortably positive

Probably a good family, good education, friends and a girlfriend

All he knew was you always wanted to help. The task didn't matter really, as long as you could help it was good.

And you could talk. No amount of glares or one sided conversations could get you to leave him alone.

But then he sees your scars, theyre like his, but clearly not as old, they almost mimic a rib cage with how they wrapped onto your chest.

They could almost be played off as some sort of purposeful scar, but he knew how scars aged and healed.

The physical ones that is. The emotional ones weren't something he knew how to deal with, but you seemed to do fine with that.

He was jealous. You looked happier, healed, better than him.

Until you just broke down in front of him.

You asked to help with cleaning his bolts, or his clothes, you could even skin whatever he caught

He snapped at you, everything was piling up on him and you just kept talking, he couldnt tell you to go away but he needed to stew in his feelings, even though it never helped in the long run.

Tears just pooled and you still tried to pretend they weren't there, before smiling and leaving.

It took Daryl a while to put it together that you wanted to feel useful, help people, and it made him feel shit.

He never realised how used to your presence he was, it was part of the routine, you would both just do tasks in eachother's presence

Daryl ended up apologising, and was not very subtle with looking at your scars

When you told him the story, it was suprising how similar you both were

The relationship just came along by itself, you two were practically stuck together, if one of you were going somewhere, the other would end up being brought along.

Daryl was sitting closer than usual when you just went for the kiss before leaving thinking you ruined it.

And when you avoided him, Daryl realised how he felt, he found himself looking for you without realising

When you're dating, Daryl gives you tasks to do, if hes skinning a deer, he'll ask you to clean his bolts

He takes you on runs, finds anything you can do because he knows you want to be useful, and praises you

But when it comes to kissing, you're in control, a complete opposite of your normal behaviour, making Daryl feel good is plenty enough

Daryl is practically ready to fight anyone who insults you, it's worse for him when you dont even realise that someone was insulting you

He's almost like a guard dog when it comes to other people, he just wants you to be happy instead of ending up like how he was.

You clean his hands and face if there's any blood on it, he tells you it doesn't make sense, he's already dirty, but you insist to do this little thing for him

Before the apocalypse he would've scoffed at acts like this, but it was something different with you, close to eachother while you hold him and clean him like he's some sort of doll

#top male reader #bottom male reader #male reader #x male top reader #x male y/n #x male reader #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd x reader #twd fluff #twd fic #twd x male reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x male reader

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sleep-0-deprived · 8 months ago

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can i request trey jack leona and idia hcs with the bunny reader you did? they should all be majors if im not mistaken 😔

Trey, Jack, Leona Idia x male bunny reader head cannons SFW

A/N I didn’t know if you wanted nsfw too so I didn’t write it since I didn’t wanna make you uncomfy if you didn’t want it

Trey

He’s your number one teaser making lewd jokes pulling on your bunny ears making you blush in very serious moments, making you turn into a mess when he walks up behind you and starts teasing you while your fulfilling your duty’s with riddle.

Often times calling you his “pet bunny” just to further mess with you and it always works cause he just holds that power over you!

Jack

Rarely does he ever tease you but he will get upset or pull on your bunny tail, he likes to enjoy time talking despite his rugged demeanor he turns into a sweetheart for you behind doors but he’d never admit that aloud.

Jack often times loves you following the rules liking your calm cool demeanor and how smart you are but he also loves knowing he gets a sensitive side no one else sees.

Leona

He is the type to be into making you at your softest moments around him calling you nick names like “prey” or “little rabbit” while messing with you and teasing you like your some sorta bendable bunny.

He loves to poke at you when you try to study or focus on anything that isn’t him, he’s very jealous of you but had too much pride to ever admit it despite him making it obvious.

Idia

He was honestly intimidated by you when you two first met. Finding himself flustered as he stares at you being all strict running your errands and doing your duty’s for riddle as he watches from afar.

Getting shocked when you ask him pull reduced to a flushed mess making him blink getting flushed too but soon accepting your offer and become all flushed together and ultimately a cute and wholesome couple.

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yandereunsolved · 5 months ago

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Yandere Daryl Dixon w/ immune reader— 'we're all infected, why does it matter if you're the cure?'

Yandere Daryl saw your scraggly ass aimlessly wandering through the abandoned pharmacy he needed to raid. Walkers, five of em', and you fought them off bare fisted. Pretty badass, and fucking stupid, if Daryl has anything to say about it. You're bleeding from your neck more than any living person should.

A bite. You're bit.

No wonder you could care less if one of the rotting corpses bites on ya.

He wants to put you down like he should. He lines up his crossbow with your head, and like a deer caught in headlights, you flee.

Goddammit all.

Shouldn't matter anyway. You'll become another walker. At the most you got some gauze.

It had to be months again before he saw you on another run. There you are—banged up and just a lil more than skin n' bones, but there you are alive none the less.

Yandere Daryl admits to himself that it's the first time he's been intrigued by someone in a long while. Maybe that's why he's insisted on going on runs by himself these past few months. Maybe just maybe deep down he wanted to see you again.

It isn't hard to simply surprise you from behind and disarm you. He knocks you out and lowers you to the sidewalk. He doesn't see any walkers near, so he can check your wound out easy.

You still have gauze over it, but it has long since needed a change. It's drenched in fresh blood and covered in old. He unwraps it to see the damn bite. He can't tell if it looks better or worse now.

"Poor sap, what am I gonna do with you? Whats good a cure if there's no docs, only greedy men in this world." He tsks.

Yandere Daryl picks you up and carries you back to the group. He wraps a slightly torn shawl around your neck. It's one he found near the store you collapsed at. There's a reason you have been out here all these months.

You could'a just given up and died.

You could'a found a group.

Instead you found him again.

"Must've been fate, huh?" He chuckles humorlessly.

The way you looked at him. You're runnin' from somethin'. He just has to figure out what.

Yandere Daryl decides you're his to take care of. When he carries you into Alexandria, he doesn't let anyone else get their hands on you. He doesn't answer anyone's questions while he walks in and towards his house. He locks himself in and tells anyone that comes by to piss off.

Screw the rules and whatever the fuck.

You're a mystery that he has to solve.

So he grabs a change of clothes and some food for you. He plops them down on the table and sits in the opposite chair.

He doesn't mind waitin' for a while. It gives him plenty o' time to think. Somethin' in him is just stirrin'. He just can't decide what.

Yandere Daryl calms you down after you wake up. You can barely form words on those pretty lips and tongue of yours. Naturally, you question him and his motives. You're defensive and don't elaborate at first.

It takes just a handful of threats about exposing you and spreading around the fact there is an immune person to unravel your need for secrecy.

Somewhat.

You only tell him that you're being hunted by a group you were once with.

"Mind elaborating, hun?" Daryl draws out while looking over your figure for what feels like the thousandth time.

"I'll tell you—but I swear to God if you use this against me I'll stab you through the head a dozen times over."

"Fair nuff."

"They would—If you get bit and are injected with... well, enough of my blood then it acts as a cure..."

They fuckin' what?

Yandere Daryl vouches for you, and you end up in Alexandria. You get no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They assign you to his house. Daryl definitely convinced Rick that since you're a newcomer and you trust him more, he could keep a watchful eye on you. It totally isn't because there's this strange all possessing feeling that keeps latching onto his heart when you're around.

He keeps your secret safe n' sound. He manages to steal enough makeup from rundown stores to keep your healing bite covered up. He makes sure you are eating and getting healthier. He checks up on you before and after he gets done with a run. Hell, he reminds you of shit he forgets about all the time.

This does extend to him killing people to keep you safe. They looked at you wrong. Maybe one of the residents feels suspicious about you. They may even have confronted Daryl and questioned him. Oh, well. Just another one pushed to the biters.

Daryl has never had a strict moral compass. So he doesn't feel bad about murdering people who he is supposed to consider his neighbors.

Of course, those who came with him to Alexandria get the privilege of questionin' you just a bit. He's quick to shut that shit down, though.

Carol is the only one who is close enough to knowing that you are immune. She knows that Daryl has something more than platonic towards you. She also knows that you were injured with something that looked suspiciously like a walker bite mark when Daryl first lugged you in. (She snuck in and looked through your scarf while Daryl wasn't aware.)

She just isn't looking for trouble. She doesn't want to believe it, as it doesn't seem plausible. There have been too many false hopes from the CDC to Eugene.

So she let's Daryl foster his feelings towards you while watching out for you both. If Daryl ever oversteps a boundary with you, Carol will be there to knock him up side the head, call him a stupid redneck, and threaten him in the most motherly way possible.

Yandere Daryl never saw you have so much terror in the eyes as the day he mentioned The Saviors. It clicked in his mind immediately. He has only felt that rage one other time in his life: when he learned Meryl had been handcuffed to the roof and left for dead.

He didn't think, but he acted. He held you and refused to let go. It's just so fuckin' unfair. He loses everyone that has a semblance of importance to him. Not you. Not this time.

His only thought was that he was going to burn every one of those fuckers to the ground—innocent or not.

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd x reader #yandere daryl #yandere daryl dixon #yandere daryl x reader #yandere daryl dixon x reader

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mushrubes · 2 years ago

Text

The Beach

Masterlist | The walking dead Masterlist

Requested : No

Song : The Beach - The Neighbourhood

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x reader (No use of Y/n)

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : fluff + angst

Contents : mutual pinning, slightly canon divergent, best friends :)

Word count : 2k

Have a great day / night !!

----

If I told you that I loved you Tell me, what would you say?

His gaze was almost instantly on you, not moving off once as he watched you talk to Shane. He made his way over to the stables, mumbling about something to himself as he carefully opened the gate, undoing the rope that was keeping it tied up to the post. "Hey." you called, making him jump slightly. Daryl nodded, not responding with words as he carefully saddled the horse up.

"You leaving already?" you asked, slightly upset and worried for him. He had gotten back late last night and he'd had at least three hours of sleep - if he slept at all. "Gotta find 'er." he shrugged, his gaze lingering on you longer than it normally did. You frowned, reaching into your pockets and pulling something out while he watched in curiosity.

"Take this at least, so I know you have something." you instructed, handing him the bar as he hesitantly took it, looking back at you. "Be careful, " you mumbled as your hands brushed slightly, making you blush. "I...uh...yeah." he stumbled, lifting himself onto the horse as you helped them out.

Why couldn't he just tell you.

If I told you that I hated you Would you go away?

"Daryl!" you shouted, cutting his rant off. "Go, let me talk to him." you whispered, earning a worried look from Carol as she knew how Daryl was in situations like this. Once you had convinced her you'd be okay, you watched her disappear into the house with the others while you stayed with him. "Whaddya want?" Daryl grumbled, trying to turn away from you but you caught his wrist.

"It's not your fault." you assured, bracing yourself for his next words. He wasn't one to let his guard down easily, so it took some reasonable prying. However, like most people, it didn't always work and could sometimes anger him more so you were cautious with it. "Whatever. Jus' go away, don' even know why yer here, I hate yer." he grumbled, still ranting. You grimaced at his words, aware that he didn't mean it but it hurt nonetheless.

And it hurt him too. He hated it about himself sometimes. With the world having gone to shit, people like you were hard to come by, and here he was, being a dick. Perhaps it was one of the many reasons he felt comfortable with you, although he had never admitted that to anyone. Considering his family life and what he had to endure, never once did he think his life would end up like this. His walls were like a safety blanket, especially since Merle had left before the apocalypse. He'd been forced to toughen up, and now he struggled with letting anyone in. But you were patient, and no matter what, had time for him.

That was most likely why he was confused when you didn't leave him after he had said the words. You had stayed right by his side, sitting with him whether he opened up about what was bothering him, whether he apologised or let you in - it didn't matter. Too consumed in his thoughts, the pair of you were now sat on the porch stairs, not sharing words but still there for each other. The usual inches between the two of you were gone, bodies next to each other.

And when he intertwined his hand with yours, you didn't pull away.

Now I need your help with everything that I do I don't want to lie, I've been relying on you

His face softened as he realised it was you that called his name. "Come on a supply run with me, please? The only other option is Shane and..." you paused, Daryl wasting no time in getting up and putting his knife away before picking up his crossbow.

"C'mon." he assured, squeezing your shoulder as he walked past. He let you talk to Rick as he made his way to his bike, waiting for you on it. He chuckled as he watched you climb on, hesitantly wrapping your arms around his waist. "I don' bite, y'know." he teased, moving them further so your grip was tighter.

----

"I'm sorry for dragging you out with me." you sighed, walking around the building, looking for any supplies that you could bring back. Daryl paused, holding the jar in his hand as he turned to face you. "'m fine." he answered, putting the rest of the jars in the backpack as you sighed, not believing him. "You were out looking for Soph, it's selfish for me to bring you on runs with me all the time just because I rely on you." you huffed, sitting on the bar stool as you waited for him.

Truthfully, he would never let you know that he enjoyed the fact you always asked him to come with you. Knowing that he brought you security and a feeling of safety was all that he needed. Besides, you were friends, you'd do the same. Although it wasn't in the same way, he relied on you too in his own ways. You kept him sane, and calm when everything or everyone got too much for him sometimes. You (and Carol) were helping him realise that there was still good, he was safe to open up about his emotions if needed - it was okay to show them.

So in some ways, he relied on you just as much - he just hoped it was based off the same feeling.

Fallin' again

It had been a few months since the farm now, and the group of you have settled into the cleaned out prison. No one could ignore the world (the walkers were a constant reminder), but despite the building, there was a sense of normality in there. Even though it was nothing major, it felt like home, like the group had become a family. But perhaps, that had been due to certain people.

Daryl was sat at the table, eating the food that Carol had cooked with her while he watched the rest of the group interact. Specifically you. Carol smiled to herself knowingly as she watched him, his face gentle compared to normal. You were sat with Carl and Judith was in his arms, giggling as the pair of you made faces at her, taking it in turns to make her laugh.

He felt his cheeks heat up as you looked up, meeting his gaze as he was too late to look away. Instead of making the usual comment you'd make, digging at him, you moved to the side slightly, letting him have a better view of Judith before whispering to Carl. "Little Asskicker says hi!" you grinned, moving her arm in a waving motion as Carl held her upright. He shook his head, trying to hide his smile.

He was falling hard whether he liked it or not.

I need a pick-me-up

"Carol?" you called, looking in each cell you walked passed, looking for her. "In here!" she called, peering her head out of the cell that was one over. She opened her arms, letting you give her Judith, happily putting her into the box that was being used as a makeshift crib. The handwriting and doodles on the side made you chuckle, knowing Daryl had been the one to make it. "Do you know where Daryl is?" you asked, leaning against the frame.

"Is he not on the perch?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he normally sat on his mattress if he wasn't on duty. You shook your head as she looked at the table that was pinned to the wall. It was Glenn's turn to be on watch so he shouldn't have been in the watch tower either. "I'll ask Glenn, no worries." you sighed as she nodded, giving you a quick side hug.

Quickly, you moved down the stairs, looking around as you found people sitting in their little groups. "Maggie! Do you know-" you spoke as Glenn approached and cut you off, knowing what you were going to ask. "He's out on watch, and insisted on switching with me." he shrugged, a slight concern evident on his face. You thanked them before heading out, pulling the sleeves of your sweater down to warm your hands as you cursed the weather.

"Dar?" you frowned as you finished climbing up the ladder, seeing him sitting against the wall on the outside, knees folded up. He didn't say anything, looking up at you before staring back off into space. You sat down next to him, not prodding him to tell you what was going on in his head. The silence didn't bother you too much, letting you process everything that had happened. Maggie and Glenn being kidnapped, finding out Merle was still alive, meeting Michonne, Andrea being with the guy that was on your asses for the prison.

A choked sob came from Daryl, shaking his figure slightly. "I'm here." you whispered, moving your arm as he slowly moved, his knees coming down. You turned to face him, carefully wiping his tears away as he tried to calm down, internally cursing himself for being weak. He knew it was okay, that he was safe with you but there was always something just telling him it was wrong, that he was weak for it.

"I...I found Merle." he confessed, his voice cracking as you felt the colour drain from you. When he mentioned Merle the other times, whether it be stories or when Merle was with the group at the start, there was still a certain hint of some sort of joy in his voice or something, having a family member and his brother, his blood with him. But this time, it was pure pain, something clearly happened. And with the current state of everything, it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out what he was referring to.

"He was one of them. I...he lunged at me and I had to...to stab him." he got out, hands in fists as you ran your thumb up and down his hand. "Daryl.." you gasped, tears welling up yourself as you looked at him. He wasn't the nicest admittedly, but he was Daryl's family and he was important. If he was important to him, then you had a tolerance for him. Guilt swarmed as you wished you had gone with him, despite his protests anyway. "He sacrificed himself for Michonne, for us, for you. He knew." you tried to comfort him, letting him pull you in as he wrapped his arms around you.

You stayed like that for a while, not daring to move and giving him however long he needed, trying to comfort him with sweet nothings as well as yourself.

I've been callin' you friend, I might need to give it up

"When are you going to tell them?" Carol smiled, standing next to him with her arms crossed as he watched you. You were playing with Carl and some of the other kids you had brought in, running around with them in a game of tag. "Tell 'em what? We're friends." he grumbled, glaring at her as she raised an eyebrow, smirking at him. "You can't hide from me anymore, you know. I can see it in your eyes." she simply responded, heading back into the prison.

He stood there, deep in thought as her words rang through his head. They were just friends, right? Sure, he'd shared his tent with you on numerous occasions, let you come on his bike with him instead of going in the car with the others, be open with you and would be the first person to come to you if you got hurt or needed anything. And the fuzzy feeling he got when your hands brushed or intertwined and the heat that rushed to his cheeks when he'd see you looking at him or find him something he liked on runs didn't mean anything.

Maybe Carol was right, maybe he did need to stop lying to himself, but until he was sure you felt the same, he swore to himself to never say a word.

Part two | Part three

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river13245 · 11 months ago

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Anniversary Present

Navigation / Main Masterlist / TWD Masterlist

Word count: 3k

Warnings : virgin reader!, Smut, and two people being in love

Author note: This was made with a FTM reader in mind but GN! reader is also great too! This is my first time ever writing smut cause im just getting comfortable with doing it. So go easy on my loves. (not proof read yet)

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Daryl Dixon was a man of very few words. He wasn't very vocal about things unless he was pissed then its the most you would ever hear that man speak. It never bothered you because you talked enough for the both of you.

However despite the fact he didn't talk much. You knew exactly what he was thinking, and how he was thinking. He would become stiff and cross his arms when he's pissed. Make a little face when he was deep in thought. When he was happy he would have this smile that made your heart ache. Daryl was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Not many people understood him, or took the time too. Daryl kept his circle of friends small and sometimes had a hard time with making them feel appreciated but he did it in small ways. He would watch Carl and hold Judith, Make sure that Carol was always safe whenever she came back from somewhere.

Then when it came to you he would always keep you close. He wouldn't be super touchy in front of everyone. Usually keeping that in private, however he would hold your hand when you two went hunting together. Or kiss the top of your head before having to separate from you for a bit. He loves a good hug too, whenever you would come back from a trip the two of you would automatically go to each other. No matter how bloody or dirty you were, it never seemed to bother him.

Daryl was a good boyfriend, a great one. In fact in the beginning of your relationship. You had told him you didn't want sex, it was just something you had never felt for someone before. He was so supportive and said that he himself didn't feel the need to do it alot. So he had never pressured you into anything. Always making sure you felt loved in other ways.

Its been almost a year into the relationship now. Your anniversary is coming up and you had been wanting to take the relationship to the next level. You had never felt this attracted or loved by someone in your entire life and for the first time in your life. You wanted to have sex with your boyfriend.

The easy thing was accepting the fact that you were ready, the hard part was getting Daryl into realizing that. Without coming right out and saying it. So you decided the week leading up to your anniversary you would tease him a bit and throw hints his way and if he didnt pick up on them. Then on your anniversary you would be bold and tell him.

------

Throughout the week you had touched him more than you normally did. The two of you had been attending this group gathering and instead of just holding his hand your hand rested on his arm. Then when you had to leave him you grabbed ahold of his tie and pulled him into a kiss before slowly pulling away from him to go and talk to Maggie who needed your assistance. You left him there as he blushed and had to recollect his thoughts while Rick chuckled.

You even went as far as to make plans with him. He would teach you how to use a bow and arrow. So when he was behind you helping you with your stance, you moved your body right up against his. The only reaction you got from him was a sharp inhale of breath and his hand that was on your waist tightened. "keep your body still and focus on your target" he said as calmly as he could manage.

After about a week of this it was finally your anniversary. He had not caught on to what you wanted. Just thinking you were teasing him and joking around, never really taking you serious enough. Carol had even teased him about it and to which he just told her to shut up with a roll of his eyes.

He was always respectful of you, not wanting to do anything our of your comfort zone so he didn't try to pursue you in that way. However tonight you had a special gift for him.

When you woke up this morning Daryl had been gone. At first you thought he was downstairs but when you seen his boots by the door and crossbow were gone, you knew he was out hunting or on a quick run. So it gave you time to fully plan out exactly what you were going to do.

Walking back into your bedroom you go to your dresser and decide on an outfit to wear. Deciding to wear a button down dark green shirt that showed off your toned arms and black pants that would pair well with your shirt. Then when you finish getting ready you grab a box from under your bed and open it. Revealing a book you had found on one of your own solo trips, one that you were going to gift your boyfriend when you two have your date tonight.

You put the box away and spend most of your day cleaning up the house. Then making his favorite dinner and setting the table, leaving a few candles lit around the house.

By the time everything was ready you heard heavy steps in front of the door and your boyfriend walks in. You look over at him as you take a sip of your water. He turns and looks around seeing the house had been nicely decorated and a smile forms on his face before turning to look at you.

When he looks at you your eyes meet and you swear your legs turn to jello. "Happy one year Daryl" you say and he quickly takes off his boots and opens up his bag. He then pulls out bracelet and a stuffed animal that was an otter. "one year down. Many more to come" He says and you walk up to him taking the gifts in your hands and leaning up and kissing his lips. "Is this were you went? To find something for me?" Daryl nods "I couldn't come empty handed, Carol would have yelled at me" This causes the both of you to laugh.

"thank you" You look over to the table before going up to your room. "sit down and get comfortable. Ill give you your gift after" He does exactly that and waits for you to come down and sit in front of him before starting to eat. As the two of you eat there's a comfortable silence, you two never really talked while sharing a meal. Didn't bother you because you loved the time shared with him.

Once the meal was finished he takes a sip of his drink and looks over at you. "this was very good, thank you" He says as he gets up and begins to clean up everything. "I'm glad I have enough cooking skill to not burn the place down" you joke as you get up and walk over to him in the kitchen. When the two of you finish cleaning up everything you place your hand on his arm "come to the bedroom with me. You need to recieve your gifts"

He nods and walks after you until you get to the room. When you get over to the bed he stands and runs his hand through his hair pushing it back a bit our of nervousness. He wasn't exactly used to receiving gifts but if it came from you, he would make an exception. You grab the box from under your bed and place it on top of the bed. "Damn y/n what you got in there?" he jokes a little and you laugh "just a few things. You will see soon enough"

Daryl stands and when you reach for the book you turn to look at him. "shut your eyes" He looks at you with an -are you kidding- kinda look and when you nod his eyes close. Then you grab the book and walk up to him. You grab his hands and place it on the book and then watch as he opens his eyes.

When he notices its a book he is confused for a moment before flipping it around and reading the title. His hands start to shake a bit and looks up at you with a heartfelt smile. "where did you find this?" he asks as he runs his finger against the spine of the book. This causes you to look into his eyes again "That solo trip I took that ended up being almost two weeks long. I found it and remembered you saying your mom used to read it to you when you were young. You deserve something that reminds you of the good parts of your past"

Instead of a response he places the book on the bedside table. Then places one of his hands on your waist and pulls you into a kiss. Your arms wrap around his shoulders pulling him against you. His rough chapped lips pressed up against your softer ones felt amazing. Your hands move to his hair and when he pulls away his forehead rests against yours. "thank you for the gift" there's a silence for a moment before he places his other hand on the side of your face and look down at you. "I love you"

Those three words made your heart race. Of course you both have said it before but its not as often as you would think. "i love you too" you say before kissing his cheek. Then when you pull back and look at him, your hand going to push his hair away from his face. "I have another gift for you. One that i'm nervous about but I hope you will like"

Daryl looks confused "Im sure I will like it, why are you nervous?" His voice is quiet as if he didnt want you to be startled. You take a deep breath and bring your hand to rest against his chest. "I want to make love to you" you say as you look up into his eyes. His reaction is delayed because it didn't register in his mind but when it does he places both hands on your waist. "you sure?" You nod and kiss his lips "just go slow and gentle with me. Its my first time and im a bit nervous"

His hand goes to the back of your head and kisses your lips and then they travel to your jaw. "I wouldn't hurt ya" he says and you bring your hands to the bottom of his shirt and begin to lift his shirt up off him. His arms lifting up and then tossing his shirt to the side somewhere in the room. Then his hands begin to unbutton your shirt slowly before tossing your shirt somewhere. He begins to kiss your neck before pushing you back to the bed. Your knees hit the bed and you sit in front of him.

He looks down at you for a moment before grabbing your jaw and tilting your face up to kiss you. When he pulls away he gets on his knees in front of you. "lay back gotta get these pants off ya" a blush forms on your face but you nod. Your back lays on the soft mattress and he begins to unbutton your pants and you lift your hips so he can slide them off. Once you were fully exposed in front of him he grabs your legs and spreads them. "are you sure you want to do this?" you ask him in a quiet voice and he looks at you. "course I do. Why wouldnt I?"

It takes a moment for you to respond "well I know some guys prefer not to do it. You know..I just didn't want you to feel like you needed to do it" He squeezes your thighs and shakes his head. "you are beautiful. I want to do this for you, let me take care of ya alright?" You nod and he holds your legs apart as he presses his lips to your inner thighs.

Its like he's teasing you because he's pressing his lips everywhere. Except where you need him, your breath is already heavier from the growing feeling of want for him. "Daryl...please" you whimper out and he brings his lips around your clit and suck for a moment before licking up between your lips. Your body squirms a bit before he begins to please you with his tongue.

Moans escape from you as your head tilts back against the mattress and your hands go to the back of his head and pull his hair gently. This earns you a grunt from him as his eyes shut. "fuck Daryl" you moan out. When he pulls his mouth away a whine escapes you and you blush from how needy you sound. But its soon replaced by one of his fingers pushing into you. It slides in pretty comfortably from how wet you are and a moan escapes you. He lets you get used to the feeling of his thick finger inside of you before adding another and brings his mouth back to your clit.

Your back arches from the bed at the feeling. Your hands grip onto the sheets under you. This feeling was nothing you had ever felt before, of course you had touched yourself before but it had never felt like this. He picks up the pace once you begin to move your body and when you feel a tightness in your body your eyes squeeze shut. "fuck im going to cum" he groans against your clit and it sends a vibration through you and that's all it took for you to come undone.

When you cum he licks up everything that he can and even brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks your juices from his fingers and as you watch him do this. It turns you on even more and you lean up and pull him on top of you into a kiss. A grunt if heard from him as he kisses you.

It doesn't take long before his pants are off him and hes naked on top of you. The size of him catches you off guard, of course you knew the man wasn't going to be small but its thick and you honestly wonder if its going to fit. He catches you staring and he grabs your hand and kisses it "If you want this. I promise to go slow, just tell me if you need me to stop at any time and ill stop"

He was always wanting to take care of you and you lean up to kiss him. "i will, all I know right now is I need you" a blush forms on his face as he nods and brings his hands to your legs and spreads them apart. When he lines his dick up to you his eyes meet yours "breathe and relax for me hun" You nod and take a few breaths and when he begins to move into you its a slow movement but you feel the way you stretch around him. Your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a moan. Daryl's hands roam up and down your legs. "its okay, ive got ya, i'm right ere"

When your body gets used to the feeling of him you reach up to pull him into another kiss. Your legs wrapping around his waist "move please." At your words he pulls out and then thrusts into you, moans now leaving both of you. "fuck you're so tight" he says as he thrusts into you. Your back arching from the bed as Daryl kisses your chest, his lips sucking and teeth biting you gently. "fuck Daryl you feel so good. Please don't stop" Your body begins to move in time to his thrusts which makes the both of you go at a faster pace.

The room is filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, your loud moans. You were glad that you had a house further away from anyone's or you were sure the two of you would have been heard. His hands stayed on your hips and thighs unless he brought his thumb to circle your clit. and when he did that your eyes squeezed shut at the added pleasure. "Daryl..fuck....not gonna last much longer" He doesn't stop his movements and instead goes faster.

It doesn't take much longer than that before you cum. Your cum coats his dick and when you tilt your head back he thrusts only a few more times before he pulls out and he cums all over your stomach. He then lays beside you his body collapsing onto the bed as he catches his breath.

You reach for his hand and squeeze it as your eyes close. You only open them when you feel him get up from the bed. "where you going?" you thought he was leaving but he wasn't. "i'm going to take care of you." he goes to the bathroom and gets a washcloth wet before coming back over to you and cleaning you up. He is so gentle with you the whole time and when he is finished he lays beside you and you pull him against you. His head rests on your chest, your fingers running through his hair.

A soft laugh escapes you and he squeezes your hip. "what's so funny?" he asks as you continue to touch him. "Just thinking about how vocal and loud you were. Its probably the loudest i've ever heard you" A blush forms on his face and he rolls his eyes. "yeah yeah, enjoy it cause yer the only one that gets to hear me like that"

This causes you to kiss the top of his head. "mhm I like the sound of that. I love you and thank you for doing this with me" He hovers on top of you and kisses your lips. "thank you for trusting me enough to be the one that got to do this with you. I love you too"

That night the both of you fell asleep on top of one another. Only waking up when Carol started banging on the door. Telling you to get up for patrol with her. She ended up seeing the marks on your neck and when she made a comment Daryl stayed quiet with a small blush. it caused you to laugh.

#river13245 #fluff #masterlist #angst #male reader #gn reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead fanfic #twd #twd fanfic #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x gn!reader #daryl dixon masterlist #Daryl Dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n

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yanxidarlings · 1 year ago

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YANDERE TWD

REUNITED (yandere! big brother! merle dixon x male reader x yandere! big brother daryl dixon) (yandere! gareth x male reader) (rick grimes x male reader if you squint) NOTES: fair warning, this is some descriptive disturbing shit merle dixon counts as a warning on his own as well. this went in many directions i originally set out for yandere headcanons for the two, then got into the terminus arc, and ended with some pretty vague alluding to yandere. might write a part two)

imagine obsessive! possessive! big brothers! merle and daryl dixon. the dead begin to walk and they keep the darlin safe, meeting up with the atlanta camp. but the brothers won't let anyone get close to the darlin, not dale, not carl, certainly not shane or lori.

somehow, the darlin ends up going with glenn into the city on a supply run, only for it to go horribly wrong. the darlin insisted they head into a chemist to "look for medications" in case anyone in the camp needed them. but it was a lie. the darlin just wanted to find something to help merle with the inevitable withdrawal he'd go through once his supply of drugs ran out. the chemist is overrun by walkers but the darlin insists. "we can clear it!" they say to glenn "it'll be worth it for m- everyone" the korean gave the other a skeptical look. in the end, there was just too many, glenn thought he saw the darlin go down and reluctantly returned to camp.

"oi! shitface, you think you're a big boy now? can do whatever you want now everything's gon' to shit!" the raspy, harsh voice of merle dixon echoed through the camp. the redneck tramped over to the SUV glenn was parking. he remained silent as he turned the engine off. taking a deep breath, the young man exited the car, staring at the grass.

the older dixon stormed over, aggressively opening every door of the vehicle until he reached the boot. filled with supplies. "where the fuck is m/n" he growled, coming closer to the asian "he better be pullin up in another car" merle spat out. "i- it was" glenn stuttered out, looking like he was about to piss his pants "it wasn't my fault, m/n was being reckless, i had no cho-" CRACK glenn's face was soon bloodied and bruised, merle now on top of him, yelling out profanities as he beat the younger man. "merle!" the others quickly ran to pull the redneck off glenn.

"you fucking ch*ng-ch*ng bastard i'll rip-" merle was pried off glenn, who was now rolling around in agony, his face a bloody mess. "what the fuck happen'd" merle rasped out, although to glenn it sounded like a croak "where is he" merle was still being held back by t-dog and shane as he continued yelling. glenn avoided the rednecks furious gaze "the walkers got him" he finally spoke, looking down.

for a moment it looked like merle was about to cry, for a moment merle himself thought he was going to burst into tears like a sissy. "no he ain't" but instead he picked up his shotgun, and got into the drivers seat of the SUV.

that was how andrea, t-dog, jackie, glenn and morales ended up in the city. that was how merle got handcuffed to a roof by "officer friendly" and that was why daryl yelled in agony on that same roof. in the course of a day, he had lost the two most important people in his life.

but merle had survived by cutting off his left hand, and the darlin had survived by covering himself in walker guts.

"china- no- glenn- don't- help!" the h/c-et screamed, the sound of his own gun firing defeaning his ears. as one went down, another lunged at him, rotten teeth clanking together, desperately trying to knaw into his flesh. but he wouldn't die here. he couldn't. not when merle was 'relying' on him to get drugs. maybe then, the dixons would start to treat him as less of a clueless child and more of an equal.

after taking down a few, m/n jumped behind the counter, rummaging through the medications, looking for anything that might help with the withdrawal, or better, give merle his next fix. more of the dead came at him, but he just kept shooting, stabbing, hitting, anything to cause the fatal damage needed to end the dead's miserable 'life'.

BANG one was down BANG another BANG BANG BANG .. the slide didn't move forward as he shot his way through another round. shit. he was out of ammo "glenn!" he yelled out as a walker fell on top of him, wrestling it's way closer to his skin. all the korean could hear was m/n's screaming. which only attracted more walkers. he saw the medicine that m/n had thrown over the counter before going down, stuffing it into his bag, he creeped up closer to the group of walkers that had acculumated, following the sound of m/n's scream. until it stopped. "m/n?" he uttered under his breath, but the pile of walkers on top of each other told him the other was dead. with tears in his eyes, glenn ran out.

m/n struggled against the strength of the walker. it was freshly turned, he could tell. otherwise it wouldn't be so strong. kicking, punching, reaching for his knife, anything to save himself from becoming one of them. plunging his blade into the side of the walkers head, he quickly slit the once-man's throat. covering his face in the blood. before moving down to the abdomen. cutting it open, letting the walkers rotting insides pour out all over him, the ones that had piled on top soon couldn't distinguish the smell of living flesh from rotting blood.

he went silent, breathing shallowly, hoping, praying, they'd move off him and he could silently slip out. but when he was finally free of the chemist, glenn, the supplies they had gathered, and the SUV were gone.

he walked the dead-ridden streets of the once bustling city, covered in blood, hidden in plain sight. he kept walking (which then turned into a limp after getting hit in the ankle by a flying bullet) becoming weaker with each step, hoping to make his way back to camp. only to come to the end of the trainline leading into suburban atlanta. TERMINUS the building read "those who arrive survive" he heard a feminine voice call out from the speakers. maybe they have gauze. he glanced down at his leg, the sleeve of his shirt he had tied around it now dyed red.

"community for all; sanctuary for all" he saw a young man- perhaps just a little older than m/n was, staring down at him from the window. something felt amiss, off, but m/n had lost so much blood he didn't care. he stumbled towards the train station, stopping and starting as he debated his decision.

daryl, merle.. they'll be wondering he thought to himself, stopping for the 5th time, but i won't make it back he began walking again but they'll be looking for me he stopped, nearly tripping but the sudden lack of motion if i found this place they'll find it too he picked up the pace again, frantically moving towards the gates but- as he stopped himself once more, he finally tripped over. right onto the walker trap the train people had set up. his left ribcage was pierced by the sharp metal pole sticking out of the ground, causing the h/c-et to let out a loud screech.

before he knew it people had come out, the same man that had stared at him through the window moments earlier put his hand on the wound, causing m/n to flinch "we're you trying to get yourself killed?" the man mused, seemingly unphased by the active bleeding out that was happening in front of him. the man spoke more words that were muffled as m/n fell out of consciousness.

it was pitch black when he opened his eyes. not a shred of light to allude to the location. pitch black. m/n's hands brushed her his torso, feeling the gauze that was tightly wrapped around his chest. it all came back to him. the chemist, the walkers, glenn, the train people. he shifted his arms, feeling the thin material he was lated on, and the cold metal it covered. attempting to hoist himself up, pain shot through his body.

letting out a groan, he laid back down, closing his eyes. is this death. it certainly felt like it. the nothingness, the pain, it was all he had ever imagined death to be like. what felt like hours passed, the nothingness was almost comforting, how long had it been since he could lay like this and do nothing with no worries. it was all ended when the creaking of the door signaled to m/n that he was not in-fact dead.

the sudden brightness was blinding "you awake?" a masculine voice spoke. m/n's eyes began burning from the light, "i guess" he replied quietly, his eyes closing. "good" the male put down a plate next to where m/n laid "eat up. i know this isn't the warmest welcome, i would have liked to show you around first" the man chuckled, leaning down, seemingly to get a good look at m/n.

the man- who introduced himself as gareth, began speaking about the community- terminus. that they did whatever they had to for survival, that m/n would have to prove himself loyal if he wanted to become apart of the community. he wasn't sure how to tell this gareth guy that he was leaving as soon as possible to find his group.

the discussion started off normal as m/n finished his food, until gareth started talking about how lonely he was, as the leader of this terminus community. it only got creepier as gareth started to call m/n pretty boy, edging closer to him. m/n doesn't want to know what would have happened if that middld aged lady (gareth's mother), hadn't called the man away.

it quickly became evident to m/n that he was never going to leave. gareth locked him in the pitch black train car for hours on end, opening the door when there were armed men to prevent m/n from trying anything. gareth would sit with him and talk, running his hands over the male's body, stealing kisses, it was a reprehensive routine m/n had become forcibly accustomed to.

it all changed the day the hunters attacked. m/n was in his train car, as usual, listening to the outside screams, wondering if the attackers were dead or alive. he knew they were alive when one pried open the train car door, and threw them self on him. he was then thrown into a cramped train car with other terminus residents, where the hunters hand picked who to assault and slaughter each day. he and gareth spent their days huddled up together, talking about their lives before. had m/n not accepted the hunters offer to leave the train car if he worked for them, gareth wouldn't have lost his mind. but m/n was desperate to get away. from the train car. from terminus. to find his family.

but the hunters caught him trying to leave. they did their absolute worst to him and then threw him back in. when the termites took back terminus, gareth locked the leader of the hunters and m/n into the same train car. "this is what you deserve" he told him, before locking the door shut.

perhaps it was years, perhaps it was months, maybe it was only a few hours. the horrors of the train car began to unfold, as the man who had once led the attack on terminus lost his mind: pouncing on m/n at random, screaming for hours straight, trying to eat m/n alive when they'd be deprived of food, ripping his ear off in hungered insanity. as m/n laid there bleeding from his ear, he decided either i escape or i die. had running worked before? no. was he willing to die trying? not really, but a man would do anything for freedom, and that's what m/n did.

the hunter had fallen asleep, a fatal mistake, as m/n wrapped his hands around the mans unshaven neck and squeezed. within second the man awoke but m/n was relentless, not letting go until the other went limp. i just have to wait now he cried to himself, hands shaking. calming, he began to strip the man of his clothes and use the fabric to restrain his limbs.

waiting for the termites to open the door with the meal made of human flesh felt like an eternity. the familiar sound of metal scratching and creaking filled m/n's ear, who quickly sprung into action.

grabbing the reanimated hunter by the hair, he guided it in the direction of the door, throwing it towards the woman holding their plates. she screeched as the hunters corpse sank it's teeth into her flesh, blood pouring from the wound.

m/n grabbed the woman's gun and bolted as the nearby workers aimed their guns at the walker, taking it down swiftly, but m/n had already gotten out of the train car. hiding behind what once was his cage, he shot at every person who came into view. eventually making his way to the fence, through the woods, he didn't stop running until the sound of gunshots stopped entirely. even then, he kept running. he ran for what felt like hours until his lungs couldn't take it anymore. collapsing onto the dirt, heaving in and out.

woodbury had fallen, it's entire population now living in the prison nearby. rick had relinquished his leadership, insisting the prison be governed by a council. he often went on runs by himself, to get away from it all, to look back on his actions, to find lost survivors. it wasn't everyday rick grimes came across a twenty something perhaps younger male covered in blood, breathing like he had never tasted air before. well, usually the young men were walkers. but this one was very much alive.

"please don't" the male groaned out, eyes wide, as rick approached with a knife. "who are you" he drawled out, kneeling down to get a good look at the other. the young males face was bruised, his hair covered in blood, an ear was missing, and the male was emaciated. "uh" the male seemed to have to think about it, as if he hadn't spoken to another human in years "m/n" he finally puffed out, bringing his hand up to his head, where the left ear once was.

rick's hands brushed m/n hair out of his face, causing the male to flinch away "how many walkers have you killed" the older man finally asked after several moments of silence. m/n just stared at him, as if to say he hadn't been keeping track "how many people have you killed" still, the same look. "water" "what" rick narrowed his eyes. m/n used his free hand to shakily point to the man's bag, where a bottle of water was latched on to the side.

rick was silent as m/n chugged the water down "do you have anything sweet?" "no i don't" "oh" something about the boy felt familiar. didn't glenn mention originally going into atlanta to find a boy with a similar description? maybe it was just that the male reminded him of his own boy in a way, or maybe he had already developed a fondness for m/n. "i have a camp" rick looked m/n in the eye "we have walls, food, a community, a doctor that can look at your wound" he added.

the h/c-et shook his head "not again" rick furrowed his brows "what" the boy started to pick himself up "i gotta, um" he started feeling around the ground for his gun, "gotta go" he finished as he felt the handle of the gun. stuffing the weapon into his belt, he stood up, using a tree as a crutch. "c'mon kid, you're going to die out here" rick leaned forward and took the gun out of the others hand "no im not! give it!" m/n lunged forward, only to awkwardly fall into rick's chest, sinking down back to the ground.

"you've got two bullets left" m/n looked up at rick with a glare "either you come back to my camp with me or i just wasted my water on a dead man" m/n held his glare until the sun got into his eyes. "whatever" he looked down, hoisting himself back to his feet with the help of rick's hand.

daryl squinted his eyes as the evening sun glared down, merle had stolen his motorcycle. again. the older dixon was always going off on fun runs without informing anyone beforehand. perhaps because the redneck had never really been accepted into the group like daryl was.

taking another bite of his pork chop, daryl grunted at carol who told him to go in and get some rest. but why would he want to rest when all he could think of when his mind was unoccupied was his baby brother, the boy he had pretty much raised, who was now probably a rotting corpse in atlanta. but daryl still held out hope that m/n had gotten out, that he was safe, that he would find him oneday. this was why he never rested, these thoughts would creep up in the younger dixons head.

the sound of his motorcycle rumbling told him that merle was back. the older dixon sauntered over to daryl, a cigarette sat between his thin lips, "look what you're big brother merle got you, darylina" he pulled a pack of cigarettes out his pocket, sliding it into daryls pocket. daryl said nothing, staring into the distance; was that rick? the figure was too far away to discern.

"dad!" carl called out, jogging down. "look what i- m/n?" the young grimes exclaimed as he came closer to the pair. rick carried the half-conscious boy through the gates "you know this guy?" rick looked at carl, who flicked the hair out of m/n's face to get a better look "he was with us back in atlanta, we thought he died on a run"

daryl's heart stopped, did he hear carl right? they were pretty far away. standing up, he threw the pork bone aside and marched towards the two- three. when he finally came close enough to see the persons face, he had to stop himself from tearing up in front of carl and rick "m/n" he uttered out quietly. the father and son came to a halt as he approached "you knew this guy back in atlanta" rick nodded at daryl "'course i did. he's my brother" daryl was quick to take m/n off rick. he wanted to cut the mans arms off just for touching his precious brother.

daryl rushed m/n into the prison, settling him in his cell, "go get hershel" he told carol, who looked just as perplexed as merle did as he walked into the cell. "m/n!? i thought you was dead" he breathed out, shoving daryl out the way, who was quick to push back, both wanting to be as close to their younger brother as possible "where'd you find him" merle looked over at rick, who was standing out front the cell "in the woods, looked like he'd been running"

rick moved aside as hershel came in, merle reluctantly stood up as hershel sat to access m/n's condition. "he's lost a lot of blood" hershel examined the ear hole where the flesh and muscle had been ripped from "we should have bob look at him, but from what i can see he needs bandaging and antibiotics" daryl grunted "i ain't letting no stranger touch him" he ushered hershel away, taking m/n's hand in his own "i found antibiotics on last weeks run, that gon' be enough" merle looked over at the old man, who nodded "we'll have to see how he reacts"

neither daryl or merle left m/n's side whilst waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. it was strange. no one in the prison had ever seen either of them so worried for or attached to someone. but for the six days and nights m/n spent unconscious, his body fighting off the infection from his wounds, recovering from the months of maltreatment.

when m/n finally opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings, daryl was leaned against the wall at the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the boys face "sleep well?" was the first thing he said after the two had stared at each other for what felt like an eternity "yeah" m/n spoke softly.

"i should have never gone hunting that day" "am i dead" the two spoke in unison. daryl breathed out "no, never gon' let that happen" he shuffled closer, laying down next to the youngest dixon.

daryl stared at m/n intensely, until merle was roused from his sleep "m/n, i told you not to go out of my sight" he grumbled, sitting forward. m/n looked up at the metal frame of the top bunk "i just wanted to get you some narcan" merle stared at him, blinking away tears "didn' have to risk your life for it" he pursed his lips "i ain't worth you dyin'" he added quietly, sitting back, his eyes not leaving m/n's.

the room went silent for a moment "maybe not, but you're my brother" m/n closed his eyes for a moment "do you guys have pop or candy here?" he questioned hopefully. merle let out a chuckle "i found a can on my run today" he chuckled out, before going quiet "i chugged it on the spot"

"you piece of shit!"

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pretentiousgayguyidk · 2 years ago

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I know I've been gone forever, but it wasn't all for naught! As i have started making progress on a big ass project. Point is I've started writing a fanfic for the ENTIRE Walking Dead show. Yes, it is a Daryl x Male Reader. Yes you might cry, as I will go through as much for the show in fan fic form as I can. So far i have solid ideas all the way up to the start of season four!

That being said please keep in mind that The Walking Dead is a violent and gory show, my writing will reflect the story as exact as I can with an additional character. There will be graphic content, so if you are triggered by mention of death, suicide, gore, assault, abuse, drugs, and more. PLEASE DO NOT READ. I don't want anyone to be harmed by my works.

City of the Dead

Prologue

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“Vera-shka, I need a screwdriver.” The young man called out, wiping sweat from his brow as his younger sister aided him. She scoffed, aggressively handing over the tool making him wince in pain as it pressed against his growing blisters. He had been working on his father’s old Apache for almost six hours now, his hands were aching, and his mind was tired. He sighed, carefully replacing yet another piece of the heli’s dash.

“You know, as much as Papa loves his Pititsa he really let it go.” Vera grumbled, leaning against the Apache’s hull. Her older brother grunted in agreement, screwing in the last piece of the helicopter’s new gauges.

“Da, Papa’s too busy drinking to be bothered with his favorite child. Why do you think he practically raised us on this bird?” He laughed with no feeling, he couldn’t even muster the energy anymore. With yet another sigh he climbs out of the helicopter, carefully cleaning oil and grease off his hands with his rag. “Vera-shka, you should probably get back, he’ll raise hell if dinner isn’t fixed by the time he’s home.” She crossed her arms, raising a brow and pursing her lips sassily.

“Seriously? Do I really have to? I mean what's the point! You know I suck at cooking, he’ll be pissed no matter what! You do it, you’re the golden child. Suka.” she raged, waving her hands around rabidly. He sighed, nodding with a weak smile.

“Okay. You win Vera. I’ll do all the work, not like I’ve been covering your ass since birth.” He muttered, turning for the house. He knows he shouldn’t be hard on Vera, she was only fourteen. She shouldn’t be at home fixing dinner and helicopters. He stopped for a moment, sucking in a deep breath before turning around. “I’ll only cook if you-”

His heart hammered in his ears. His body running cold with goosebumps as a string seemed to snap inside him. A man with pale skin and stringy hair had grabbed Vera - pulling on her ponytail - his teeth digging into her arm as she tried to pull him off. He stood frozen in fear and shock for a moment as the man ripped apart her arm, making it go limp… exposing her neck.

(Name) grabbed the nearest tool, a wrench. He gripped it tightly, tight enough to pop some of the blisters. He raised the wrench, ignoring the liquid coating his hand and the wrench as he swung at the being. “Слезь с нееб, сука!” He screamed ferally, his eyes wide with rage as the sickening crunch of the man’s skull filled his ears. The man fell to the ground, part of his skull caved in. The older tossed his tool aside, rushing over and cradling his limp sister in his arms. She gurgled, blood gushing from her neck and spilling from her mouth as she choked. He stifled a sob, gently hugging her.

“Мне жаль! я так виноват…” He wailed. She silently cried, only able to respond with soft gurgling and sighing. He pressed his forehead against hers, gently cradling her wound. He fumbled for a bit, his mind going blank as he reached for his phone. The blood caking his fingers made it difficult to hold onto. He swallowed hard as he called 911. The phone picked up after a few seconds, the woman on the line sounded fearful as she asked “911 what's your emergency?” He blubbered for a bit, mumbling in Russian manically. The woman on the line started to speak, only for her sentence to be cut off by a scream, and the steady beeping of the call ending. Was the line cut?

She choked and gasped one last time before falling limp and cold in his arms. He trembled, pulling away slightly to look at her face. Slowly shaking his head, he shakes her a little. It wasn’t the first time he lost someone, and it wasn’t the first time someone died in front of him. All the same, seeing someone so much younger than you die, die so brutally in your arms.

He cried out, coughing and choking as he dropped her body to the ground. He stumbled backwards, his stomach catching in a knot as bile was expelled. “No no no…” he whimpered, his (light/dark) hair falling into his face. His body pulsed with strain as more acid spilled from his mouth and nose. The burning sensation in his throat and sinuses made him cry harder as he clutched at his hoodie, smearing blood all over the fabric. He gripped at his hair and pressed his face to the ground, hyperventilating as he pulled. Small clumps of dead hair fell onto the ground before him. Gagging again he slowly sat up, wiping his face roughly. He sniffed hard, pressing his palms into his eyes - trying to stop the flow of tears.

Soft groaning was covered by the young man’s sobs, he didn’t notice the growling and moaning behind him. He didn’t notice the footsteps, and he didn’t notice that his sister was reanimated.

He yelped in fear at the feeling of delicate, cold, and clammy hands against his scalp. He threw himself forward, ignoring that he just fell into a puddle of vomit as he turned around. Slowly he shook his head, his head pulsing with pains in sync with his heart. Hard fast thumping, pumping adrenaline and fear through his body.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His sister stood before him, groaning softly with pale red-yellow eyes. Her fingers twitched erratically, and he could see drops of drool running down her chin. He was almost fool enough to speak up before realizing, realizing that his beloved Vera-shka - the little sister he raised since she was a baby - was dead. He let out a breathy whine, shaking his head as she lunged forward. He kicked out, holding her up with his legs as he held onto her hands.

“Vera! Vera, stop!” He wailed. Her only response to his begging was more growling and hissing, mindlessly snapping her jaws at him. He let out a shaky breath, kicking her to the side with great force, he panted, struggling to crawl away and towards the tool box. The tool box had been knocked over during the first fight, spilling the tools just out of his reach from his current position. He gasped, feeling Vera grab at his ankles. He flips onto his back, watching as Vera bit at his boots savagely. He hesitated for only a second before kicking her, she didn’t budge. “Please, Vera-shka please.” He begged weakly, fumbling behind him for a tool. He kicked her again, throwing her from his feet and breaking her nose in the process.

She growled loudly, standing with a wobble. That's not Vera. Vera is dead. He thought harshly, watching her dead eyes for tears yet none came. She was always a cry baby when it came to pain, she would have passed out on the floor in tears if it was actually her. The thought cleared his mind and his vision blurred as he grabbed a tool from the ground. A pipe wrench, he could only tell by the wight and the weapons red color. Weapon. That's right, it’s his weapon. He grunted with effort, raising the tool - feeling the weight press into his shoulders and arms. It was heavy, heavier than it should have been. He grunted with great effort, his chest tightening painfully as the weight caved in Vera’s skull.

He dropped the tool, breathing hard. He swayed a little with each step, stepping around the body and stumbling back to the house. He wheezed, coughing hard as he stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and quickly threw off his clothes, throwing them across the small room with great anger. Slowly, he turned to his reflection, watching as splattered blood dripped down his chin. He pressed his forehead to the glass, trying to even out his breathing as the room filled with warm mist.

Squeezing his eyes shut didn't help, the image of his undead sister seared his mind's eye like a hot iron. He let out a loud wail, smashing his face into the mirror as hard as he could. The glass shattered, slicing across his forehead to his left eyebrow in one jagged gash. He fell back, holding his face as he whined in pain, immediately regretting acting on his intrusive thoughts.

Scoffing at himself he hobbles his way into the shower, laying back in the tub and letting the burning water pelt his body. He looked up at the ceiling weakly, one eye slightly closed - his vision blurred red. He let out a shaky sigh, running his hands through his (h/c) hair; slicking it back with the water. How was he supposed to explain to his Mama that Vera was dead? How was he supposed to tell his Papa that he had to kill some crazy person? How would he hide it? Could he even hide it?

“I’ve done it before… no, that was different. This is my sister, not some fucking rat.” He muttered to himself, his throat tightening as fear and dread wrapped around him like chains to hell. How was he supposed to fix this?

An hour later, the water had run cold and he had finally mustered the energy to clean off his skin and hair, wincing as the soap got into his blisters and cut. He lazily turned off the water, watching as the reddened water drained. With a huff he slowly climbs out and opens the cabinet, grabbing some gauze, gauze pads, and butterfly stitches. He carefully placed the butterfly stitches along the cut, pulling it together slightly before placing some of the gauze padding. He carefully wrapped the injury, making sure it's nice and tight before tucking the loose end. He took any excess gauze and wrapped his blistered hands, probably best to keep blood and dirt out of the injury.

“I hope this is some fucked dream…” He whispered to himself, wrapping a fluffy towel around himself as he awkwardly waddled out of the bathroom and to his room. Based on the silence, his Mama and Papa weren’t home. Maybe he would have time to bury Vera.

With that idea in mind he was quick to get dressed, wincing as he pulled on his clean shirt and pants, the fabric rubbing against his bandaged hands. He was sore, nauseous, and exhausted; but all the same something inside him told him, he has to bury her. She was his little sister, a literal baby only 14 years ago. He could remember vividly taking care of her when he had just turned eleven and she had come home. It’s only right to bury her. There's no way to contact the police with the line cut.

He grabbed a pair of gloves and carefully fitted them over his bandages, then ran to the garage to grab a shovel - but not before grabbing his pocket knife to be safe.

The shovel rang out a metallic noise as he dragged it behind him, making his way to the heli and his sister’s body. His other hand was occupied with the knife, flipped open and ready to use. He was half expecting those things to be up and moving, he’s seen dead people walk, and at this point he doesn’t even know if that's what he saw.

Once close enough to his sister’s body he was hit with a foul sour odor. The stench of death hung around the heli like a thick fog, he gagged a little, covering his face as he inched closer. Once closer he took a good look at the ‘man’. He was definitely dead, hell he was definitely dead before (Name) got to him. The young man shook his head a little, his eyes burning slightly - whether it was from the smell of rotting flesh or his sister’s death he didn’t know.

“This shit can’t be real.” He muttered, walking a little farther than the heli. He sighed, trying to ignore the smell as he put away his knife and gripped the shovel. As he plunged the tool into the dirt the weight of what went down today rested against his consciousness. His sister was dead. Silent tears burned his eyes as he continued digging, tossing the dirt to the side.

#male reader #the walking dead self insert #the walking dead #male self insert #self insert #slow start #zombies #twd x reader #male reader only #dark story #content warning #warning ⚠️#gay #gay love #mlm only #daryl x male reader

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janiehellion · 2 months ago

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𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝚸𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Winter has always been a season of bitter memories for you—cold nights, a frozen soul, and scars that still bleed into the snow. Until Daryl Dixon shows up, dragging a plastic Christmas tree with him—and the warmth that'll melt the ice around your heart.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Hurt ⋮ Comfort ⋮ Trauma ⋮ Childhood Neglect & Abandonment ⋮ Emotional & Physical Abuse ⋮ Fluff ⋮ Angst

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 7.227 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S9E16 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: GenderNeutral!Reader

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: A work around the themes of loneliness, healing, and Christmas. The holidays aren’t always full of joy and warmth, and sometimes they bring up the memories we’d rather forget.

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

Outside, Alexandria was covered in snow, untouched and pure, like the world had decided to play pretend for a day.

Everything looked peaceful.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, though it wasn't the cold creeping through the windows that made you shiver. It was the kind of silent pain that settled in during the quiet moments, the one that came when the world slowed down enough for your mind to wander where you didn't want it to go.

It was beautiful in a way that felt cruel—mocking, almost. The kind of beauty that reminded you of what the world used to be, back before the dead started walking and the winters turned colder in more ways than one. And you didn't know when it started—the feeling that something inside you was broken beyond repair.

That you could never be whole.

Your eyes looked at the group arriving outside. They were wearing whatever winter clothes they'd managed to scavenge over the years—puffy jackets, old scarves, patched gloves.

Judith ran through the snow as Lydia chased her, trying to hit her with a snowball. RJ crouched behind Michonne, who had her hands on her hips, pretending to scold him while he piled snowballs together for an attack. Carol stood nearby, her arms crossed, but with the kind of smile that said she was about to join. And then there was Daryl.

God, Daryl.

He was back. He was safe. That was supposed to be enough to make you smile too. But, even now, as you watched him, your thoughts wandered elsewhere.

You had always been happy to see him come back home after a long trip, but this time, something felt different. He'd been gone for what felt like forever—taking the people from the fallen Kingdom to the Hilltop, making sure they were safe. And usually, you'd be waiting by the gates, running into his arms, even more so because of how much you secretly loved him.

And now he stood out there like he belonged to that snow-covered world.

He had a snowball in one hand, and the second you saw the way he laughed, you knew someone was about to get hit by it. Sure enough, he threw it across the street, hitting RJ, but the grin on his face said he wasn't angry.

You realized how you'd never seen him like this—laughing, actually laughing, as RJ made a surprise attack on him and managed to hit him back. Daryl stumbled back dramatically, pretending to be wounded, before throwing himself into the snow with a groan that made the kids and everyone else laugh in pure joy.

Daryl didn't get moments like this often. Hell, none of you did. Watching him like this felt like being let in on a secret he didn't even realize he was sharing. For a moment, it was enough to warm you.

But then it wasn't.

The smile faded as the memories came back, uninvited as always. Snow had never been a source of joy for you. It had been the weather too many winters where the cold wasn't just outside but inside, too. Inside your home, inside your family, inside the way they'd looked at you—or didn't.

No, snow never brought good memories for you. Winter meant cold floors and lonely nights, shivering under thin blankets that never quite kept the frost out. It meant sitting by a broken heater in the living room, praying the old thing wouldn't quit on you while you were freezing near the Christmas tree your grandma had decorated with so much love.

She'd tried; bless her heart. She'd tried so much. Your grandma had done everything she could for you, but she'd been sick, and she wasn't getting better. She was all you had, and she loved you even though you had always felt like a mistake, the failed abortion and black sheep, in your family. The scapegoat.

You let out a deep and slow breath, trying to shove the memories back where they belonged—some dark corner of your mind where you didn't have to feel them anymore. But the pain was still there, as it always was, like a scar that never quite healed.

"Get it together," you mumbled to yourself, trying not to sob. "That was a long time ago. Doesn't matter now. Not anymore."

But then there were them.

Your aunt had moved in not long after your grandma started showing signs of dementia, bringing her two mean, hateful kids with her. Cousins around the same age as you who looked at you like you were shit and treated you even worse than that. And Christmas? Christmas was just another excuse for them to make you feel like a burden and to bully you.

It was the time when you had to sit far enough away that it was clear you weren't part of the celebration and were unwanted. Wrapping paper on the floor all around you, your hands busy cleaning up while everyone else laughed, opening the gifts you didn't even dare hope were for you, and feeling the emptiness in your heart when your treats disappeared before you could even touch them.

You could still remember sitting by the beautiful Christmas tree, watching them rip into the presents. You didn't get to open yours the same way, either—no, your aunt made sure of that. She'd hand you the gifts with your name on them like it was some kind of joke, then make sure her kids could take them away before you even had time to blink.

"Why don't you let your cousins play with it, huh?" She'd say, not even trying to hide the hate in her voice. "They don't have much, you know."

And the food? God, the food. You'd sit there, stomach growling, watching the plates on the table full of ham, mashed potatoes, and so much more—more than enough for everyone. But somehow, when it was your turn to eat, the plates were already empty. Or worse, someone would take yours right out of your hands.

"You don't need that," one of your cousins would say, shoving a stolen cookie into his mouth or spitting on it while you sat there, not wanting to cry in front of them and make your grandma feel bad for you. "Let me eat it. You're too fat already, so…"

They'd talked about how your grandma was a fool for keeping you around, for "wasting good food on a mouth that didn't deserve to eat." And later came the sounds of plates breaking, footsteps stomping closer to your dark room where you'd curled up on the bed, too afraid to even breathe and too scared to move at all.

You remembered the way your cousins would come into your room as they whispered the things they knew would make you cry.

"Why don't you run away? No one here wants you anyway."

"You're not a part of our family; you don't even look related. Bet you're adopted."

"She only kept you 'cause she felt bad that you're the child of her dead daughter. Bet she wishes she didn't. It's your fault, after all."

And the worst—oh God, the worst—was when they'd smirk and say, "She's gonna die soon, you know? Then it'll just be us. And you'll be all alone."

You'd bite your tongue until it bled, refusing to let them see the tears they wanted to see. But when you were alone—when the house was finally quiet at night, when the cold was the only thing around you, keeping you company—you'd cry so hard your whole body hurt, muffling the sounds into your pillow so no one would hear. Because if they heard, they'd use it against you.

And then there were the nights when the lights didn't come back on. When the power went out and the heater stopped, you sat in the dark, curled up in a ball, listening to the wind howl through slightly broken windows. Nights when you were so cold that you wondered—not for the first time—if it would be better to just... stop trying.

You used to dream about what it would be like to disappear. To leave that house, that family, that life. Not to run away—no, running wasn't enough. You wanted to vanish, to sink into the snow and let it bury you, let the frost take you somewhere they couldn't follow. Somewhere quiet.

But you never did. You'd tried. You just never let yourself. Because every time you thought about really giving up, you'd remember her—the way your grandma's trembling hands would tuck the blanket tighter around you in the middle of the night, only to kiss the top of your head and stroke your cheek while watching you hug the teddy bear she'd bought you with the bit of money she'd left of her pension.

You remembered how your grandma also tried to fight for you when she could. Still, she was too weak, and your aunt always knew how to manipulate her. Her own mother.

You bit your lip hard as the memories came back like old scars tearing themselves open again. Your hand tightened on the blanket around you, your knuckles turning white as you remembered how much you'd hated the teddy bear at first, thinking it was given to you out of pity back then. "That fucking Teddy. I never knew why I hated it… until I didn't anymore," you whispered, though the words felt meaningless. "No! It's over. Done. They're all gone. Dead. Doesn't matter anymore."

But it did matter. It always did. And it still does. No matter how much you told yourself and how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. It all mattered.

Your eyes moved back to the window, back to Daryl. For a man who didn't seem to think much of himself, he sure had a way of making people feel safe, of making them smile—even when he wasn't trying.

He had just been tackled by Lydia, who laughed as she tried to shove snow down the back of his poncho. He was pretending to be mad, but the way his hands ruffled her hair when she let go made it clear he didn't mean it.

You couldn't help but wonder if Daryl had ever had something like that growing up—if he'd had anyone to laugh with during the winters, anyone to pull him away from his own painful memories. Or if he'd just kept it all hidden the way you did.

You sighed, your breath fogging up the glass of the window as you watched the snowflakes fall softly to the ground. "You're a real idiot," you said to yourself. "Standing here like this when he's out there laughing and being happy."

Still, you didn't move. Not yet. Something about watching him felt safer than stepping out there like the glass between you and the fun was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

And here you were, still inside, while he was out there living. It wasn't fair to him—not when he'd done so much to keep you safe, to remind you that life could still have moments like this. Moments of joy, no matter how small.

You sighed, taking a step back. "Guess I'll just keep watching for now," you whispered to no one in particular. "He looks so damn happy out there. Don't wanna fuck that up."

But as much as you tried to convince yourself, you couldn't shake the thought that maybe—just maybe—he'd notice you were missing from the fun. He always noticed, didn't he?

But maybe he could be part of what could heal if you let him in.

He had to know, right? That you were more than just the person who waited for him to come back and make sure he was safe, too? That, sometimes, the waiting felt like suffocating, like you were caught in your memories that didn't belong to you anymore?

He was always there for you. You knew that. He had shown up when you needed him most, and yet, here you were, watching him laugh with the others, longing for something more.

But what would more look like?

You didn't have the answer yet.

The laughter outside just felt like it belonged to another world—something distant and innocent, something you couldn't quite enjoy without bringing all your memories with you. That was the problem, wasn't it? You didn't want to drag anyone else into your past, least of all him.

Especially not him.

He deserved this—the joy, the playfulness. He deserved to feel like things weren't so damn hard all the time.

But you also couldn't tear your eyes away.

Daryl looked up as RJ yelled something you couldn't quite make out while he dodged another snowball, quick as ever, and then his eyes looked away for just a second—enough to catch you staring out of the window. You gulped. Hard. You froze like you'd been caught doing something you weren't supposed to, something bad, even though all you'd done was watch.

And then he smiled.

Daryl bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, and packed it into a ball. You saw the smile on his face turn into a smirk right before his arm moved forward, sending the snowball flying right toward the house.

It hit the window, leaving a wet trail that started to drip down the glass. You blinked, startled, and the kids outside burst into laughter. Judith tapped Michonne's arm, pointing at the window like it was the funniest thing she'd seen all day.

You wanted to be annoyed—you felt as if you should've been annoyed—but instead, a little laugh slipped out before you could stop it.

And Daryl noticed.

His smirk turned into a soft smile, but the way his brow furrowed just slightly told you he'd picked up on more than you wanted him to. He knew something was wrong. And something told you he wasn't about to let it go.

"No… Don't ruin it for him," you said again, trying to convince yourself to stay put. He was happy out there. That should've been enough.

Of course, you wanted to be near him, but not to annoy him with unnecessary sadness. You were still thinking when you noticed him stand up, brushing snow off himself as he took a quick look over his shoulder. Then he said something to the kids and the others before turning away. Judith pouted, clearly wanting him to stay, but he shook his head.

And then? Then he walked toward the house.

Shit... He'd noticed. He knew.

You turned away from the window, your heart racing as the sound of his boots crunching through the snow grew louder. Part of you wanted to run upstairs and hide in any room until he gave up, but you just stood there, unable to move.

The front door opened, letting in the cold air from outside that made you shiver, and you heard him stomp the snow off his boots before he took them off by the door.

"Thought I saw ya by the window. What're ya doin' standin' here all by yerself?"

You didn't turn around to face him; you didn't trust yourself to look him in the eye just yet. "Just… watching," you mumbled quietly, looking down to the floor.

Daryl didn't believe you. You could feel him staring at you, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong. "Nah, ya look like hell," he said bluntly, but it wasn't mean—it was just Daryl.

You snorted in return, shaking your head. "Thanks, I guess."

"What's goin' on?" He asked, more gently this time, taking a few steps toward you.

"It's nothing, Daryl. Come on… The kids are still out there, waiting for you."

He didn't call you out on it, but you could feel his frustration. He hated when you shut him out, but he also knew better than to push too hard. Instead, he just stood there now, waiting.

And it made you want to cry.

No, Daryl never pressed you further or forced answers you weren't ready to give. He just let out a quiet grunt after a while, the kind that could mean anything from 'fine' to 'I'll be right back,' before he turned and headed toward another room.

In an instant, everything felt emptier without him. You figured he was giving you space—something he did better than most people in Alexandria—but when you heard the sound of another door opening and closing again, your brow furrowed.

You didn't do anything until you heard Daryl clear his throat behind you, and when you finally looked at him, the sight stopped you dead.

There he stood, looking more awkward than you'd ever seen him, holding the most hideous and rather small plastic Christmas tree you'd ever laid eyes on. It was lopsided, with lots of fake needles missing from the branches, and the base looked like it'd been duct-taped back together at some point. In his other hand was a beat-up old box with the words 'Our Holiday Decorations' written across the side with a marker that looked faded by now.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

He moved uncomfortably, his eyes looking from you to the ridiculous tree and back again. "Found it a while back," he said in a way that suggested he was already regretting the decision to bring it out and show it to you. "Thought... maybe we could, uh... fix it up. Or somethin'. Like, y'know?"

You blinked, completely confused yet surprised. "Daryl, what in the world…"

"It ain't much," he said quickly, cutting you off like he was bracing for you to hate it. "Jus' somethin' I found. Figured it might…" He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes now looking anywhere but at you. "Y'know... help. Dunno."

You didn't realize your hands were trembling until you had to tighten your grip on the blanket once more to keep them steady. "You… Daryl, why did you do this? What did you do this for? That—"

He shrugged, almost a little too unbothered for your liking, and cut you off again. "Ain't nothin'. Jus' thought ya might, uh… like it. Yeah. No one else 'round here does. Can't blame 'em. Looks ridiculous, don't it?"

He set the box with the decorations down on the coffee table and started looking through it. Inside was random stuff, like ornaments, most of them having a crack. A string of lights that no longer worked with a few burnt-out and broken bulbs. A garland that looked like it had been pieced together from three others or more. It was a complete mess.

Daryl then held up a dusty angel topper and a star topper as well, the gold paint peeling off the wings from the angel. "Ain't pretty either, but it'll do," he said, turning them over in his hands.

Your heart ached. It was too much—too sweet, too thoughtful, too Daryl. You wiped the edge of the blanket over your face quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice the tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, but of course, he did.

"What's wrong?" His voice softened, and when you looked up, he was watching you in a way that always made you feel like he could see straight through you. "Don't like it?"

You shook your head, trying to laugh it off. "It's just… I didn't expect this, you know? I don't—" Your voice cracked, and you hated how pathetic it made you sound. "I don't deserve this, I suppose."

Daryl frowned, his eyes narrowing like you'd just said the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. "That's bullshit."

You turned away, biting your lip, trying to keep the memories hidden, but it was like trying to hold back a storm. It wasn't just the tree—it was Daryl standing there, trying so hard to give you something you couldn't ask for, even if you wanted to.

"I just…" You swallowed hard, your voice shaking. "Christmas was never good for me. I—" You stopped, stumbling over your own words, but Daryl didn't say anything. He just waited, patient as always.

You took a deep breath, staring at the ugly little tree like it might help you. "I never told you anything about my past, even though you've asked me about it for years by now, I know. It's just… Okay, you really want to know? Do you want to listen? To hear it? Fine."

You walked over to the window again, preparing yourself. "My parents died when I was a baby. I don't even remember them. I just know my mom was beaten by my dad, which led to her death in the end, and my dad then killed himself. Of course, I've been told all my life it was because of me. That it was all my fault. I grew up with my grandma, but she was sick—really sick. She tried, but she couldn't keep up after Grandpa died, and only a bit later, my mother, too. My aunt moved in to ‘help,' but she just... made everything worse."

Your hands clenched into fists, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as the memories came back in full force. "She hated me. I don't know why, but she did. She only wanted my grandma's money. The bit that was left of it. And every Christmas, she'd make sure I knew I wasn't part of the family. The presents weren't for me—they were for her kids. If I got anything, it was trash. Like, literal trash. The wrapping paper and such…"

You swallowed hard. "I wasn't allowed to sit with them under the tree. They'd make me clean up the wrapping paper while they opened their gifts. And one year…" You hesitated, the memory hurting like a fresh wound. "One year, my aunt backed her car over my foot outside the house. On purpose. Said I was in her way when we wanted to drive to church."

You hugged yourself, fingers pressing into your arms like you could stop the pain. "I heard the engine before I felt it. And then…" You closed your eyes like it was happening all over again. "I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even scream. I just stood there while she rolled the window down and said I should’ve gotten out of the way."

Meanwhile, Daryl's muscles in his arms flexed, his hands turning into fists at his sides, but he didn't interrupt.

"I spent the rest of that Christmas in my bedroom," you whispered further as you continued. "Well, it was more of a storage room for them to use from time to time, really. One of my cousins sometimes hid rotten food in it and all. But when I sneaked out in pain to get something to eat, all the food was gone. They didn't save me anything. Nothing at all. My grandma thought I'd eaten already. I lied and said yes, that I was staying home on purpose in case Santa might still be around. I haven't told her what her own daughter did. I didn't want to worry her. Didn't want to see her cry. I wanted her to be happy, to see and have a happy family, or… what was left of it."

Daryl was still quiet. You had no idea what he was thinking, but you didn’t want to know. Not right now.

Your shoulders shook, and you hated yourself for breaking down, but it was too late to stop it. "I hated Christmas from then on. Hated winter. The snow. It just… It always felt cold, no matter how many blankets I had. I never felt… wanted. It's ridiculous, I know! It's embarrassing! It's... bullshit! God, I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, even though it's only a tiny part of my past."

You turned to look at Daryl, and the anger in his eyes wasn't for you—it was for them, for every single person who had ever hurt you. "'S still yer past. And it ain’t yer fault."

It was too late. The words had already left you, and now, there was no going back.

"But it is," you said softly, almost to yourself. "Because maybe it’s just... me."

"It ain't. They're gone," he said quietly, reaching out to grab your arm. "They can't hurt ya no more. And I ain't them," he added, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "I ain't gonna let ya feel like that ever again. Gonna make sure of that."

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing all of a sudden—loud and unhinged like it was the only thing left in you to do as you jerked your arm away from his touch. "You don't know shit, Daryl," you spat out, shaking your head as you backed away. "You think just because you showed up and listened to me, everything's gonna change? That everything's gonna be okay?"

Your voice trembled, but you didn't care. You were already gone—lost in the shame, the rage that had been deep inside you for so long. You didn't even look at him anymore when you spoke. You couldn't.

"Nothing's gonna change. Nothing, okay?" The tears burned like acid behind your eyes, but you were done holding them back. "You think you can fix this? Me? You think you're just gonna come in here and make everything feel better?" You then rushed toward him, fists in the air. "It's too fucking late for that!"

Your hands hit his chest, not hard enough to hurt him, but it was enough. Enough to make your anger feel real. You hit him again and again, your rage turning desperate. "You don't get it! You can't fix shit! You can't! I don't want your fucking pity, Daryl!"

You shoved him backward, your breath coming out ragged and fast. "What the hell do you think you're even doing? Trying to save me from myself?"

Daryl didn't back away from you. He didn't even move when your fists hit him. Instead, he huffed, and he reached for your wrists, pinning them back down to your sides.

"Let go of me, Daryl!" You fought against him, trying to push him away, but he was too strong. "Just leave me be!"

"Damn it, jus' stop," he growled. "Stop pushin' me away like ya always did. Like ya still do!"

But his words didn't stop you. You kept trying to get free and to escape. "No! And I don't care, Daryl! I don't! Just forget about it! Forget about what I said!"

His eyes closed, and you felt him tense up. But instead of letting go, instead of pushing you away like everyone else had, something inside of him just... snapped. And in an instant, he pulled you into his arms.

You didn't fight. You couldn't. You just let yourself go. You relaxed into him, your hands holding onto his shirt after his arms wrapped around you. The tears hurt your eyes, wet and painful, like a fire that was trying to burn you alive from the inside out.

Daryl didn't speak for a long time. You couldn't even look at him. You couldn't look at anything. You just needed to breathe—just needed to stop feeling like you were suffocating and turning into ashes while being trapped inside your skin.

After some time, Daryl finally spoke, his voice sounding like he was struggling to keep it together himself. "I get it," he mumbled, one of his hands rubbing up and down your back slowly. "I get it more than ya know. I ain't never been fixed. Ain't never been saved. Hell, I'm still fuckin' broken myself, too."

You shook your head, sniffling, but you didn't pull away. His words hit you like a punch to the gut—his words were a truth you couldn't deny. He'd been through his own hell, his own darkness. And you knew. He'd told you. Out of every person he could've trusted enough, he'd always chosen you.

But when you finally pulled back, he handed you a small, wrapped package from his jacket pocket without any explanation and no hesitation either. "And actually…" He continued and held it up. "Got this for ya."

He opened it with slightly trembling hands, your breath stopping when you saw the small, handmade bracelet inside. Each charm was different—a tiny feather, a little carved dog, a tree, and an arrow.

Pieces of him, pieces of you.

"It ain't much," he said again, but the way he looked at you said it meant everything as he handed you the bracelet.

You stared down at it in your hands, your heart racing, the tears in your eyes making the little charms blurry as you looked at them and turned the bracelet over, your fingers trembling. "What…? Daryl, no…"

He moved a bit awkwardly in front of you, his eyes moving from you to the floor like he wasn't sure where to look. "Ain't nothin' too fancy," he grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Jus' figured... y'know. Thought ya might like it more if ya won't like the tree."

"Like it?" Your voice cracked, and you laughed a little, though it came out choked and shaky. "It's, it's... I just—" You swallowed hard, your heart aching from how much you wanted to say. "I don't… I don't deserve this."

Daryl's head snapped up at that, his eyes narrowing fast. "Cut that shit out," he sighed, though there was no anger in his voice. "Ain't 'bout what ya think ya deserve. S' yours."

Your hands trembled as you turned the bracelet over once more, and Daryl then started to point at each charm of the bracelet.

"This one," he then said, pointing to the tiny feather, "s'posed to be a dove's feather, maybe. Thought it could mean somethin' like peace."

"Peace? Feathers are just what's left after the bird is gone. Blown away like it never mattered," you scoffed in defiance, not wanting to believe him.

But he simply moved on to the next charm, the little dog. "That one's a dog. Reminded me of… well, Dog. Y'know, always loyal. Ain't goin' anywhere."

"Loyal," you grumbled. "Or just waiting. Waiting for its owner, who might not come back."

Daryl took a quick look at you but continued. "The tree... ain't jus' 'bout trees out there. It's... I dunno, 'bout strong roots. Growin'. Even when it's hard."

You huffed. "Roots keep you stuck, too, don’t they? No choice but to stay wherever the hell you are. Rooted too deep to move, even when you want to."

Daryl's lips parted slightly, and he sighed, maybe in frustration, maybe in understanding. Still, he pressed forward. By now, your hands were shaking so much you could barely hold the bracelet steady. His eyes looked at your face, noticing the tears still, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.

"And the arrow," he said. "That's for strength. 'Cause ya pull it back, and then it flies farther than ya think. Thought… maybe ya'd remember that. Every time ya see it. Goin' forward."

You laughed through your tears. "Or it misses. It misses and ends up somewhere you didn’t mean it to."

"Or maybe," Daryl answered in an instant, "it hits exactly where it needs to."

You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think. The bracelet. The care. It was too much, and yet it wasn't enough to make you believe you deserved it.

"Daryl," you choked out, "I really can't… I don't…" You couldn't finish, and suddenly, you were holding the bracelet to your heart as though letting it go might tear you apart in an instant.

But you didn’t even realize you were falling—not until you felt his arms around you. Strong and impossibly gentle, they caught you before you could hit the ground. For a second, maybe two, the world stood still. It felt as if your tears froze, and the only thing holding you to reality was the real presence of him.

His hands held you like you might fall apart if he let go, pulling you closer, closer still. You didn’t even have time to stop him, not that you could. Your legs started to tremble, and for a moment, you thought this was it—this was when you’d finally break.

But he didn’t let you.

Instead, Daryl moved with you like he’d done it a hundred, maybe a thousand, times before. Over and over again. Slowly—so, so slowly—he sank onto his knees on the cold floor with you.

The cry that tore through you wasn’t quiet or controlled—it was loud and ugly, ripping its way through your heart like it might kill you. But Daryl didn’t move. He didn’t pull away.

His hold only tightened. Like he could block out the world, the pain, the memories—all of it—just by holding on. Neither of you moved. You were frozen in that moment—held not just by him, but by the truth that this—this—was the first time in forever you had let yourself fall.

But you weren’t just falling.

You were being caught.

Time felt like it had stopped.

Daryl's fingers soon fumbled with the bracelet as he put it around your wrist without giving you time to protest. "Hold still. I gotcha," he grumbled. "This damn thing's harder than skinnin' a squirrel."

You snorted a laugh through the tears in return. "Why? Is that something you still do often?"

"More'n ya'd think," he answered, finally managing to fasten it. "There. Ain't gonna fall off or nothin'."

You stared at it—the small, simple charms. The tiny feather. The dog. The tree. The arrow. Each one a piece of… him.

"But," you whispered, looking up at him. "I... I don't have anything for you in return. I have nothing to give you."

"Bullshit," he said, sitting back on his heels. "Ya think I don't see it jus' 'cause yer the one who can't see it? What ya give me?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on the spot as he reached up, his hand hushing you.

"Stop. Don't wanna hear that shit, alright?" He pulled his hand back. "Ya give me peace."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. "Peace? Daryl, I don't even know what the hell I'm doing half the time! You—you hold everything together, and I just—"

"But yer holdin' me together..." His voice cracked, and you froze. He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable, but he still didn't move as you pushed your head against his shoulder.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, wrapped in Daryl’s arms, but your breathing had finally slowed, and you sniffled, your fingers loosening their grip on him.

"Ya good for now?"

You nodded against his shoulder, though your answer felt pitiful at best. "Yeah... I think so." You wiped at your face quickly, too embarrassed to even look at him.

"Alright, then." He shifted slightly, giving you room to pull back, but one hand stayed on your arm. "C'mon. That tree ain't gonna decorate itself."

You blinked, confused by the sudden change in topic. "The tree?" You sniffled again, your voice cracking, and Daryl grunted in response.

"Yeah. Figured if it’s gonna stand there lookin' like shit, might as well give it somethin' worth fallin' over for."

"It already looks like it wants to fall over just from existing, Daryl. Or from dying."

"Exactly." He leaned back on his heels. "Means we gotta hurry ‘fore it gives up."

"It already has… The tree's ugly as hell."

"'S what I told ya," he agreed, smirking at you. "But so are ya when ya cry. Guess it fits."

Your jaw dropped, and you smacked his arm with force. "You're such an ass, Daryl Dixon!"

"Yeah, yeah," he answered, reaching over to grab the box with the decorations. "And that thing's lookin' like a wet noodle from here."

Before you could choke out another tearful laugh, Daryl moved his head toward the tree again. "C'mon now," he said. "Tree's waitin'."

And it was waiting, alright—waiting to collapse at any second. When the two of you knelt in front of the "tree"—if a bunch of plastic could even be called that—it looked worse than you remembered when he had brought it in.

You couldn't help it—you laughed again. "Daryl, it is looking like a tiny crime scene."

He snorted, reaching for an ornament inside the box. "Hey, don't judge it. Yer bein' small as hell, too."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Maybe. But I'm pretty sure it's leaning like it's had too much to drink. It's looking very… rustic."

"Rustic my ass," he grumbled, with that same smirk on his face. "Ya better help me clean up the crime scene now."

And you did.

You put the ornament on the tree, and slowly but surely, the tree started to look... well, not good. But better. Sort of. The garland was still sagging, and the broken lights didn't work, but by the time you reached the top, you found yourself smiling—really smiling—for the first time in what felt like ages.

When you reached for the toppers, you paused, turning the angel one over in your hands. The peeling gold wings and torn-off face should've made it ridiculous, but somehow, it felt right.

You looked at Daryl, and without saying a word, you carefully placed the angel at the very top before you turned back to him.

And that's when a branch gave out, dropping half the garland to the floor with a sad-sounding plop.

"Tree's fightin' back," Daryl pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "Guess it don't like the angel."

You just grinned in response. "Maybe it's protesting how ugly it is. This thing looks like it wants to be put out of its misery, after all."

He smiled, leaning closer so his shoulder touched yours. "Could be worse. Coulda put Dog on top."

And you were laughing again, so hard it hurt.

It was the kind of laugh that came out of nowhere, loud and uncontrollable, leaving your stomach in pain. You hadn't laughed like this in… God, who even knew how long? Maybe forever. And as ridiculous as it felt to be laughing over a plastic Christmas tree, it was exactly what you needed.

Your eyes looked back to Daryl, who was by now grinning a little—just enough that you could tell he was enjoying himself in his quiet, own kind of way.

But he caught you looking and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," you said quickly, but your heart was doing that annoying thing where it felt as if it dropped straight down to your feet. You blamed the stupid tree—or the stupid bracelet—or maybe the stupid way he'd pieced a part of you together without asking for anything from you in return.

"Bullshit," Daryl said, squinting at you like he was trying to guess the answer. "Yer makin' that face again."

"What face?"

"The one where yer thinkin' too much." He shook his head, returning his attention to the tree before continuing. "Overthinkin'."

He wasn't wrong. Thinking too much was exactly your problem. Overthinking... Like how you were suddenly very aware of how close he was, or how the warmth of him was feeling so comfortable as he tried to put a piece of garland back onto the tree.

You thought about how he had simply shown up after returning to Alexandria, dragging a plastic disaster of a Christmas tree into your life, not because he had to—but because he wanted to. He'd done it for you. For you.

"Daryl," you said softly after a while, and he turned to look at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

"Yeah?"

You opened your mouth, but the words felt stuck. How the hell were you supposed to explain this? How were you supposed to tell him that he'd somehow managed to give you something you hadn't felt in years? That for the first time in forever, you didn't feel like you were completely alone? That, right now, you were feeling anything but the loneliness that has been eating you up for years?

And so, instead of answering, you did the only thing that felt right. You didn't overthink.

You let yourself feel it—the warmth of him being so close, every quiet moment he’d chosen to be here with you. You stared at the bracelet on your wrist, the tiny charms... Each one was what you hadn’t let yourself believe in for so long.

Your heart raced as your eyes looked up to meet his. There was no pity there, no hesitation—just the quiet way he looked at you like you were something worth standing still for.

It scared you how much you wanted to trust it. To trust him.

You took a deep, trembling breath, your hand stopping midair like it couldn’t decide if it was brave enough to reach for him. And then, without thinking—without overthinking—you closed the space between you.

You kissed him. Hard.

It wasn’t smooth—your noses bumped against each other, and his stubble scratched against your skin. But it was real. Your hands held onto the front of his shirt, grabbing it like you were afraid to let go. Afraid to fall.

Daryl froze for a second, and you nearly pulled back, terrified you’d made a huge mistake. But then his hands were on you, pulling you closer, and the desperation in the way he kissed you back pushed away every fear and every doubt you’d ever had.

He kissed you like he needed this as much as you did.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, Daryl’s forehead rested against yours.

"’Bout time."

You blinked at him, still trying to catch up with what had just happened. "About time?" Your voice cracked, halfway between a laugh and wanting to argue again. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean now?"

"Means I been waitin’." His voice was rather quiet—like it was the simplest truth in the world.

Before you could reply, the tree behind you made way for another pathetic sound, the angel topper tilting dangerously to one side like it had finally given up.

Daryl stared at it, rolling his eyes. "Guess the tree’s still waitin’, too."

You snorted, the sound half-choked by the laughter that came out of you. "Waiting for what? A funeral?"

"Nah." He pulled you closer, putting his arm around you. "'S waitin' for more duct tape, probably."

You buried your face against Daryl's shoulder, unable to stop your laughter. The plastic tree was still ugly, still barely holding itself together. But somehow, it looked like the most beautiful and small Christmas tree in the world.

For the first time in years, it felt like Christmas. Like a winter that didn't feel so cold anymore.

It felt like home.

This—this moment, this feeling, this man who somehow saw you when you couldn't even see yourself—was home.

And maybe—just maybe—it was perfect.

Imperfectly perfect.

This is one of those stories where I asked myself, ‘What am I putting my readers through today?’ and spun the wheel of seasonal sadness.

On a more serious note, this story is deeply personal to me, so I’d really appreciate thoughtful feedback if you choose to leave a comment.

Writing it meant a lot to me, and I hope it resonates with those who read it. Those who've ever found themselves searching for warmth in the cold.

The song below is a recommendation that just ties to this story.

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