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heathermason6060 · 3 months ago

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Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.1

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: The little boy you patched up in the trailer park grows up, your paths finally aligning to bring you together. The man who was once only a rare source of comfort becomes your other half, only to pull back when you need him the most.

Notes: Based off of this post. Basically an angsty story detailing your relationship with Daryl and the group over the years, and when Daryl starts to grow distant from you.

Growing up was hard. Growing up without your loving father was even harder.

You accepted the cigarette pressed in front of your lips from his hand and took a deep pull, holding it in your lungs until you felt your heart finally slow from its painful pace. He took his hand away from your face and took an equally long drag.

“When's Merle getting out?” You asked as you absentmindedly scratched the dry blood off your fingernails, your nose still throbbing from your mother's fist.

“Next week.”

You were young then. God, way too young to be smoking cigarettes. Most kids your age stole them from their parents, bringing them into the eighth grade classrooms to sell or trade.

Merle did come back the next week, but not for long. He eventually abandoned the two of you for the military, something his younger brother was really torn up about. After Merle left, said younger brother spent a lot of nights on your back porch couch. Your mother didn't mind, in reality she didn't give a shit at all, normally too high to care, or going through withdrawals so bad she only wanted to beat on you and blame you for your father's disappearance.

You began to deeply miss Merle and the comfort he would bring, mostly in the form of alcohol or illegal substances. He'd always make you promise not to tell anyone, and you'd always say you weren't a fucking idiot. You were lucky you'd grown up on the same street as the Dixon brothers, it had inadvertently caused the older to view you as an estranged little sibling, sparing you from his foul advances.

The Dixon brothers eventually became a rare sight. You all were just too busy with your own bullshit. You had a little brother to look after, and you did your best to shield him from your mother's antics, but one day the teacher saw that big bruise on his back and CPS took him away. You really missed Merle then, because at least he had the decency to sell you drugs instead of asking to trade for sexual favors. That made a substance induced escape a lot harder, forcing you to go into the city to find a decent dealer.

You were sitting on your back porch crying with blood all over your face when you saw them again.

They were frantic, tearing into your driveway with their dad's truck, shouting at you to get your shit and get in. Your mother was too doped up to understand what was happening, slumped on your dirty living room sofa with a bloody straw still on her lap. Merle had tried to get her to get up and come, shouting about ‘goddamn dead people eating everyone’(using a less kind word than people), but in your post-beating rage you left without her, leaving her on your couch to succumb to either an overdose, or whatever the hell the Dixons were warning her about.

You begged Merle to go by the foster home to look for your brother. Begged, cried, and eventually screamed, and he screamed right back at you. Daryl barely managed to calm the two of you down with a hopeful explanation that the building that housed your brother was the safest place he could be. That didn't stop you from trying to steal their truck later that night though, which only ended up in another screaming match and a bloody spat with the undead.

“Turn left here. Left, here!”

“Well shit, give me more than a goddamn two second warning fucktard!” It was a wonder Merle hadn't lost his voice from the near constant shouting, at Daryl and you. This time it was the former, attempting at giving his brother directions to the safe zone in Atlanta, reading off a dirty crumpled map with text made for ants to read.

You rubbed between your eyebrows and continued looking out your window as Merle turned around in the middle of the road to take the left into the highway.

The sound of your name being called had you internally groaning. “Hey,” Merle snapped again, looking over at you in the passenger seat. “I said get my bag.”

You all but slung his plastic baggie into his lap. He took out a pill bottle with the label ripped off and fished out three pills, dropping them into his green pill grinder as he drove with his knees.

“Just let me drive, man.” Daryl complained after having to correct the wheel for the elder brother.

“Ay! Keep your stupid fucking hands off my wheel before you lose ‘em.”

Most of the drive was like that. And it was even worse when after seeing Atlanta fucking napalmed. You were all close to losing it, and thankfully right before your Mexican standoff ensued, you found a group.

You couldn't stand most of them. Most were too soft, too nice, too stupid or too weak. The strongest men were pieces of shit, and the men that weren't despicable were either weak or insane. Glenn didn't bother you too much, especially after you witnessed his weasel-like skills. He was like a roach, always surviving, even when a building fell on him.

The majority of your time was spent hunting.

The first day you went out with your recurve bow, which had once belonged to your father, Shane had questioned you.

“You know how to use that thing?” He asked as he watched you flip your raggedy leather quiver over your shoulder.

You bent down to tie your boots and nodded.

“You ever use one of those before?”

“Yes. You got a light?”

Shane took a second before fishing out a lighter from his back pocket, moving intentionally slow as if to show you he was your superior. You snatched the green bic from his hand and lit your cigarette, shoving it back out towards him.

“Dixons are already out hunting. Left this morning. Why don't you just stay here and help out? We could really use the hands. Women of the camp are sometimes more important-”

You walked off into the woods before he could continue.

It was satisfying bringing your doe back to camp, even though dragging the thing back was a cruel and grueling process. You asked T-Dog and Ed to help you string it up, making sure to be as noisy as you could, a thick middle finger to Shane. You drained and gutted the carcass, making sure to ask Shane with a smug smile what he wanted to do with the intestines.

“Take it away from camp.” He spoke with his fingers a lot, rough pointing in an aggressive manner. “That shits gonna draw those things near.”

“Makes good bait for fish.”

Andrea and her sister Amy backed you up, even though they cringed and grimaced taking their share down to the quarry.

Merle and Daryl had finally settled down after a while in camp. Merle wasn't seconds away from murder anymore, and Daryl found peace in his hunting. Eventually Glenn got you your own tent, which you were ecstatic about, no longer having to share one with the two men.

Merle called your name through a mouthful of stewed deer meat. “Sweetie, hand me a beer why don't ya.”

Lori looked up over her bowl. “Would it kill you to say please?”

You tossed the warm bottle to Merle, not acknowledging her attempt at sticking up for you. He didn't bother you, his insults or disrespect never did, growing up with someone like that sort of makes you blind to it, especially when you were used to so much worse from your mother.

“Would it kill you to suck my nuts?”

Shane stepped in and you groaned, rolling your eyes and taking your stew back to your tent.

After Daryl's mother passed you saw him more and more. You were about eleven when it happened, you remembered the house fire and the day they moved into the trailer closer to yours. Daryl was almost constantly covered in bruises then. Always a black eye, always a purple bicep, always dried blood under his nails. He didn't smoke with you much after that, his mother having died from a cigarette induced house fire. That was when Merle had left, but your memory of the timeline was foggy. It had been so long ago and so much was constantly happening that you might've misremembered a lot of it.

“Sleep good?” Your groggy voice caused Daryl to look up from his task of sharpening his knife.

“Nah. You?”

You yawned and sat next to him in front of the fire, stretching your sleepy limbs and taking a sip of his water. “Now that Merle's farting and snoring aren't waking me up every ten minutes, yes. Thought he would shit himself with how bad that tent stank.”

Daryl let out a knowing chuckle and tossed his whetstone in the open flap of his tent. He slipped his blade back in its holster on his belt before grabbing a crooked cigarette from his shirt pocket.

“Fuckin' hate this place.” He muttered around the filter as he cupped his hand around the flame of his lighter. He snapped his zippo shut and put it back in his jeans pocket. “Me and Merle been talkin’.”

“About what?” You began crunching on a handful of almonds you stole from Lori the night prior.

“These people, they're… they're fuckin’ idiots.” He sighed as he blew out a stream of smoke, waving his hand around for enunciation. He held it to your lips for you to take a drag, watching as you pulled in a lungful before he took it away. “We should just leave 'em. They probably want us gone anyway.”

You observed him, not responding, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Well? You comin’?”

“Course I am. But I don't think we should leave.”

“Why the hell not? You hear the shit they say about us?” He scoffed, his brows furrowed. “Inbred hicks with their ‘trailer trash whore’. Y’know, they think we all fuck each other when we go off huntin’. Good for nothin' bastards. Should just rob ‘em and leave.”

“I don't give a shit what they think. I give a shit about my odds of survival, which are higher with guns.”

“We got guns. N’we can jus’ take theirs.” He argued, referencing the duffle bag of stolen guns in the hidden compartment of their truck. “Besides, chances are we're safer on our own than these dumb shits, catching frogs with the kids in the damn quarry.”

“Hey, I'll come if you leave. I couldn't care less about these people. But they keep that RV locked up real tight. It's gonna be a bitch to get into, especially with the rifleman wannabe on top and his gun slingin’ daughter, or whoever the fuck she is to him. Shane's already watching us too much. Let's just wait a while till he stops following me around like I'm some sort of violent nutcase.”

You had unknowingly sealed the fate of many lives with your argument.

“Gonna go in the city.” Merle said as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, jumping out of his truck bed, careful to not knock over his bike in the process. “Y'all need anything? Tampons?”

“No.”

“Was askin’ Darlene.”

“Shut the hell up man.” Daryl grumbled and finished preparing his crossbow for his hunt. “An’ no, don't need a damn thing.”

“Get some SlimJims.” Your favorite low cost snack. Growing up in a trailer park gave you a superior taste in snacks, SlimJims and Funyuns being your favorite.

“Why you want that when I got all the meat sticks you need sugar?” Merle laughed crudely, nearly bumping you over with a sloppy kiss goodbye to your cheek. You smirked and playfully pushed him off, watching as he left with the rest of the supply group.

“C'mon. Let's go before all the damn squirrels get eaten.” Daryl put his crossbow on his back and you picked up your weapons before following him off into the woods.

You had good luck that day. Daryl had a rope full of squirrels and you were tracking down a deer he'd sunk a few arrows into.

“Not gonna need SlimJims no more.” Daryl breathed as the two of you crept silently through the woods, following the trail of bubbly blood.

“As much as I love your roasted squirrel, it just doesn't have the same kick to it.”

“Never heard you complainin’.”

“Yeah, it's ‘cause I'm not a bitch.”

“You? Not a bitch?”

“Only to people who deserve a good bitchin’.”

“Seems like everyone these days needs a little of that.”

“Hah, yeah. We better get that deer before the dead do, Merle's gonna be hungry as fuck when he gets back.”

You didn't react when Rick Grimes told you he'd cuffed Merle to a roof. You didn't react when it was revealed T-Dog, one of the only people you liked in Shanes group, had dropped the key and left him up there. He'd profusely apologized and you just stared at him, doing everything in your power not to punch him in the throat.

You did react when you saw Merle's hand on that roof, his body nowhere to be seen. You cursed and shoved Rick so hard he hit the metal side of the fire escape with a bang, and Daryl, eager to jump in, ran to your side with blazing eyes. If it wasn't for the other people there and the guns they held, you would've killed him that day. Mauled him like the animal you were and left him there just as he did Merle.

In the absence of his brother, you found Daryl had seemed to subliminally put you in his place, a figure to follow and learn from. Not that you had too much to teach him, but knowing you were the eldest sibling in your family had you fitting into place with him perfectly.

You guessed you could call Daryl your friend now. You never had many friends, only in elementary school, sticking to yourself most of the time. The kid going to school smelling like cigarettes with the same clothes they wore the day before was never a popular choice for companionship. You never minded it though. The abuse you suffered at the hands of your mother had turned you into a cold and calloused human. Daryl was simply an object of mutual benefit for you back then, a source of company, cigarettes, alcohol. Whatever he could get his hands on. And he was easier to relate to than Merle, who had a good ten years on you.

But now, he was the only person you had left. Your mother was gone, your precious baby brother God knows where, and your male mentor was still missing, out there with one hand, his state of existence unknown to you. He was most likely dead. Shane's group had quickly become “Rick's group”, and you still held no fondness for any of them. Andrea had formed an odd one sided relationship with you, she craved your status. The group saw you as on level with the men, you never needed gun training like the rest of them, you got to keep your own gun, and no one ever tried to prevent you from doing something you wanted to do.

It was clear though, none of them really liked you all that much. They treated you like more of an outsider than they had Merle. You couldn't blame them, you wouldn't like someone like you. You were a mean and cold bitch, always keeping to yourself and only viewing them as a transactional business. They provided safety in numbers and you provided fresh kill and a gun.

One of the only times you behaved like a friendly human being was when you arrived at the CDC. It was hard to recognize you after you showered and cleaned up, washed your clothes and didn't smell like cigarettes or blood anymore. While your clothes were washing you had to borrow some from the former employees, a deep purple sweater and black slacks that somehow fit you perfectly. You caught Shane watching you walk down the hall, and you quickly responded with a snotty face of disgust.

A stomach full of hot seasoned food and wine loosened you up a bit. You sat next to Daryl and smiled, even laughed a few times, much to the shock of the others.

“C'mon, one more glass.” Daryl grinned as he filled your cup with more wine before you could object. “Don't be a baby.”

“Sure thing Darlene.” You snorted as you took a sip, earning an eye roll and a scoff from Daryl.

“Yeah, keep it up.” He feigned aggression as he downed his third glass. “Won't be so funny when you got teeth in your throat.”

“Not before I lose my boot up your ass.”

The banter was refreshing. The trip out of the quarry had been exhausting. It felt like you were admitting to failure when you were forced to give up your search for Merle, and oftentimes you debated on stealing his bike out of the back of your truck and going back to find him. But there was always something stopping you, every single time.

Sleeping on an actual mattress felt amazing. You'd offered to take the couch as a joke, and when Daryl made his way to the bed you dove into the sheets before he could plop down on it.

“You really are a goddamn bitch.” He slurred and slung his bag at the foot of the couch, falling back dramatically.

“Drink some water before you get a hangover.” You tossed him a fresh bottle from the room fridge, and he begrudgingly downed it. You turned the light off and climbed into bed, groaning at the feeling of the soft and dry mattress.

“You think Merle’s alive?”

You blinked, opening your eyes and looking towards the couch. It was dark, you'd assumed he'd been asleep by then, there had been several long minutes of silence.

“Yeah. I know he is.” You were surprised by his question. Daryl had always been the one reassuring you of Merle's status, claiming he was impossible to kill, and that he could feel in his bones that his brother was alive. It also made you a bit uncomfortable, you'd never comforted anyone before that wasn't your little brother. Let alone Daryl. The most you'd done for him was offer him sanctuary on your porch and cleaned his wounds if they were bad.

“Go to sleep Daryl.”

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams (wasn't sure if you guys wanted to be tagged since its eventual smut but here u go)

@hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @10hrs26mn @adribarbie (those who asked to be tagged if someone wrote this in the original post)

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yanxidarlings · 9 months 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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carlsangel · 3 months ago

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friendly spirit (g.i.t.w, ch.1)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warning: mentions of death.

masterlist here!

other chapters here!

Carl never lost hope. Even after the prison, terminus and the church. He knew there was something for the group out there. He was probably the most hopeful out of everyone. He always wanted to keep going, he motivated everyone. It’s definitely something he’d gotten from his dad. Alexandria was exactly what he’d hoped for. At least from what he’d heard from Aaron.

Staying in a barn that smelt like horse shit was something he’d unfortunately considered before Aaron had arrived. That morning, seeing Aaron arrive through the barn doors almost made him smile. Between arguing with his dad that Alexandria was a good fit for the group and trying to back Michonne up on the same argument, he didn’t get much sleep. The entire car ride there, Rick had a plan.

He would discuss it with them over and over, going over every possibility. That’s why, when he and the others got out of the vehicles and he saw you, he thought he was imagining it. He saw you, a girl who’d climbed a tree from what it seemed like. Eugene walked past him and when the large black mullet was out of his face, you were gone. Maybe you were apart of Alexandria.

He heard children laughing and people talking. He knew this was the right place. For him, and for Judith. He sort of knew that he was the reason they needed a settlement at all. Maybe the rest of them would’ve given up at this point. Maggie had lost Beth, Sasha lost Tyreese, Daryl lost Merle ages ago…but they still stuck around. He thinks it’s because they had a sliver of hope. Hope because him and Judith are still alive.

Seeing the houses in the community sort of healed parts of his childhood. They weren’t the wealthiest of families, he imagined living in houses as big as Alexandria’s for years. He has memories, almost faded of the three of them driving through the neighborhood where all the wealthy people lived, imagining themselves there in the future. Once Rick retired of course.

It felt somewhat ironic to him, the fact that the only chance they were ever given to live in a nice and luxurious house was when the world was on its last legs. He thought a lot. Maybe too much, even in that moment where Aaron was explaining how one of the houses was better than the other, he thought about you. He wondered if you were just his imagination, or maybe you were a threat. He didn’t want to alarm anyone. But he was curious.

He returned to the conversation to hear something about curb appeal. Aaron was about to leave, he’d motioned for the both of them to check the house out but Carl stayed back. He had to talk to Aaron, to make sure he wasn’t insanely tired and you actually did exist.

“Wait— Aaron. Before you go, I just…I saw something earlier. Well someone. I was just wondering if she was apart of the community.” He explained, He described your attributes, the color of your skin and the length of your hair and what you were wearing. He felt like you were too dirty to live here however. “Oh her? Don’t worry, she just lives in the outskirts of Alexandria.” Aaron replies. Carl’s eyebrows knot together in confusion. “And you didn’t tell us? What if she’s a threat?”

Aaron sort of chuckles and it catches Carl off guard. “We call her the ghost in the woods. We’ve had people to go out and look for her…whenever they spot her she disappears quite quick but…we can’t quite seem to catch her.” He explains. Carl still didn’t understand. “She’s not a threat, I promise. Think of her as uhh… a friendly spirit.”

He thinks about that for a moment, Aaron puts his hand on Carl’s shoulder, giving him a content smile before patting it and turning away. He stewed on the idea of you, he seriously doesn’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want to join Alexandria, and why would you choose to live around it? He wanted to see you again. To meet you. He didn’t believe you were some…fairy tale. He needed to see you.

And he did. Right as Aaron walked away, in the distance he could spot you once again in a tree, just watching him. “Aaron?” He calls out, looking over to him for his attention. Once he gets it, he turns to point you out but you’re not there. Shit, now he looks stupid. “I just want to say thank you.” He says this as a cover up, but it was still mostly the truth. “Of course.” Aaron nods.

He finally tears his eyes away from the tree and catches up with his dad. He knew he had to see you, to meet you. That’d be his mission the next couple of days.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

Meanwhile you’d just descended the tree. You’d walk off your small campsite which was almost never permanent. The woods surrounding Alexandria was large. Perfect for you. You hated being confined to just one area. Especially because you hate to be attached to things.

The first rule to the apocalypse is to not get attached. You found that out the hard way. Many times. Your first home, your dad, your sister. You lost everything. All you had was their belongings. Your sister’s bracelet, your dad’s bag, and his rifle. You were in fact attached to their belongings but you knew if they weren’t in your possession, you were most likely dead.

You never intended on interacting with the people of Alexandria, you just liked the security of being outside the walls. You had precaution without technically having it. If it came down to it, you knew where to go. Not to mention sometimes the civilians would leave food for you. At first it felt dehumanizing, like they were leaving food out on the porch for a fucking raccoon.

But it was fine. You were perfectly fine on your own. Sometimes it got lonely..but you’d just occupy your time listening to music with a walkman your dad gifted you before the start or reading books you found in old cabin remains and such. You’d even watch over Alexandria. Except recently things have been especially frustrating. The rifle’s been getting jammed and the batteries in your walkman have been dying quicker than usual. You’d stop listening until you really needed it. You were yearning for something new. Anything.

But soon, a new and large group would arrive. You’d watch over Alexandria often, you knew almost everyone but not one on one. You liked the reputation you upheld there. It was like knowing everyone without having to really know them. No chance to get attached. You now had a new group of personalities to dissect. At least, all the way from the trees surrounding the walls.

You took note of all of them. More importantly, the one who noticed you first.

Carl.

i hope you liked itttt there’s more coming!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine

#carl grimes #twd #the walking dead #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #carl grimes smut #twd carl #twd fanfiction #ghost in the woods

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ghostboneswrites2 · 8 months ago

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Doe Eyes || Ch.1 - Woodbury

Overview: You (y/n) are taken captive by the Governor and recruited as one of his fiercest soldiers. As you slowly uncover the atrocities committed behind the walls of Woodbury and at the hands of the Governor himself, your already questionable loyalty begins to dwindle. When Woodbury falls, your only friend (a sassy, formerly rich farmer's daughter type named Brandy) decides to take the offer from the rival group to join them at their secure home in a prison. Despite your apprehensiveness -- and your preference to be out on your own -- you decide to tag along with your friend and seek refuge with Rick's group. You become a valuable, able-bodied asset to them, and that's when a certain crossbow slinging southerner becomes a part of your life.

Story begins in S3 and ends when Aaron finds the group to take them to Alexandria. It is mostly canon compliant. Lots of canonical dialogue. This story is finished. There is one OC: Brandy

18+ MDNI || Warnings: Story contains TWD typical violence, profanity, deaths of major and minor characters, gore, etc etc.

Chapter list

"Well, so far, so good, except the dehydration. I'm going to give you these electrolyte powders. Drink them twice a day in a glass of water, and make sure to drink plenty more in between." The doctor lady told you, handing you six slender packets. "Someone will be in to show you around."

With that, she walked out of the room and you just sat there, stunned. A doctor? In today's world? Where the hell were you? Maybe you were dead and this was some kind of strange DMT trip before your lights went out for good.

The door opened and in walked a tall man with a fake smile. He was the type to work at a law firm or something.

"Good afternoon." He greeted cordially. "Name's Philip. Most people just call me Governor."

"Governor?" You snorted. "Like 'ello gov-nah'?" You joked, mimicking a sad excuse for a British accent.

"Funny." He chuckled, but something told you it wasn't actually that amusing. "Come on. I'll show you around, then I'll take you to where you'll be staying."

"Staying? I don't know about that. I was doing alright on my own."

"Alright?" He considered your words for a moment, slowly pacing his way toward you. "Wouldn't you rather be doing well? Great, even? Just let me show you around, give you a place to stay for a day or two, and then if you still want to go, fine. We'll send you off, maybe give you some supplies to get you started."

"What about my weapons?" You inquired. When they took you, you had a .38 and a crowbar. You'd become pretty efficient in the arts of melee since the world fell to shit.

"Of course. You can have 'em, and we'll even give you a box of ammunition for that pretty piece of yours. It's nice, by the way. Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, I got it when I got my first place on my own." You shrugged. "You know, wasn't in the best area and all."

"Understandable." He nodded, showing off that eerily friendly grin of his. "Good thing you had it."

----

"So, what do you think?" He asked. He'd just given you a quick tour of the town. Woodbury, he called it.

"It's real cute. Never seen anything like it." You admitted.

"No different than any other little town in the south." He chuckled.

"The walls, I mean." You clarified. "The armed guards. So many people. How'd you do it?"

"Well, Rome wasn't built in a day." He shrugged, feigning humility.

"It also wasn't built in a world infested with flesh-starved freaks." You retorted. His eyes narrowed. He was growing tired of your observations and the way you questioned everything. It threatened him, really. But he'd seen the way you fought out there. They'd been watching you for a few days, Philip and Merle and whatever goons they'd bring along for the day. They watched you fight two grown men off as they tried to raid your supplies and probably yourself. You took down the biters with ease, one swift blow to the side of the head, and another down on top. You were quick and sneaky. You made it look effortless. You had survival down to a science, which was either a threat or an asset. He hadn't decided.

He forced a smile that more closely resembled a sneer.

"I'm sure you've got loads of questions. You're a smart gal. However, I have some things that need attending, and you still haven't been shown to your place."

"What, like my own house?" You furrowed you eyebrows. He looked around.

"You see any houses around here? C'mon, it's in here." He said as he led you inside the building you two had stopped in front of. It was a small apartment building it seemed, maybe twelve apartments total, if that. Yours was on the second floor. It was small, but it had everything anyone could need. "There's some food in the kitchen, and running water. Come find me if you need anything. Feel free to wander and make friends."

----

When you'd been at Woodbury for a few days, the Governor had cornered you, asking you to make a decision, because anyone who stayed had a job to do, and if you were going to leave, it needed to be soon so not to use up any more valuable supplies. You told him you'd stay, but he seemed skeptical all of a sudden, asking what value you had to offer. Of course, you told him about the only skill you had in this new world. You were a fighter. He seemed to like that response. He assigned you to the wall at first, then he started bringing you on runs.

That was weeks ago. Just recently you guys brought in two women, Michonne and Andrea. They made it clear they weren't sticking around, so the Governor gave them the same offer he gave you; chill out for a few days then be on their way.

Andrea eventually decided to stay but Michonne wanted no part of it. Thing was, Philip never intended on letting them leave alive. You and Merle were tasked with killing her. She got away from Merle, and you let her. The two of you had decided to just tell him she was dead and be done with it. Not like she had much of a chance up against their paramilitary militia anyways. That was when you truly lost any trust for Woodbury. The benevolent ruler façade was already less than believable, and the hit on Michonne did nothing but prove your suspicions.

Really, the only upside to any of this was that for the first time since everyone you knew was eaten alive -- or doing the eating -- you made a friend. Brandy was a tan, dirty blonde, supermodel of a woman. She grew up on a very profitable farm. A plantation, really. She was your typical southern belle, or as she would call it, a 'Georgia Peach.' She was sassy and classy and everything in between. She was probably the only person in the world that still wore mascara and lip gloss and carried a purse. You were drinking with her at her place that night.

"So, what did you do, anyways? Before all this?" She asked, pouring another glass of wine.

"Honestly?" You giggled. "I was a clerk at a pawnshop."

"Wow, a real classy place, I bet." She joked. You rolled your eyes.

"Oh, yeah. The tweakers trying to pawn their decade old VHS players for a sack was real classy."

"I didn't have a job." She admitted as she poured you a glass. "Daddy pretty much gave me whatever. Paid for my college classes." She lamented. "I had a real good life."

"That's good." You smiled. "Mine wasn't so bad, but I definitely lacked in the rich dad department."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you got a lot more life experience than I could ever dream of. I used to wish I could just live like a normal girl sometimes. Life with a silver spoon ain't all it's cracked up to be, you know?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure that was real tough." You snorted.

"Only when I wanted a boyfriend who wasn't studying to be a doctor or a lawyer." She giggled. "Or that one time they caught me smokin' pot with my friends in high school."

"Pot?" You raised your eyebrows. "My, my. A rebel, I see."

"Something like that, yeah." She nodded.

"Got any pot now?" You wondered. She laughed.

"No but if you find any, let me know."

"So, what's up around here?" You asked, breaking away from the casual banter. She gave you a confused look. "I mean, like, how come nobody gets to leave this place?"

"Why would anyone want to?" She scoffed. When she realized you were serious, her smiled dropped. "What do you mean? We're free to go whenever we want. Nobody ever wants to, though."

"I don't know about that." You mumbled.

"What are you on about?" She asked warily.

"Look, you cant tell anyone." You said, growing more serious as you leaned forward on the table where she sat across from you. "That girl Michonne, she left. Governor sent me and Merle after her."

"What, to bring her back? I thought you said nobody gets to leave?" Brandy tilted her head.

"That's what I'm saying. He sent us to kill her." You whispered.

"You killed her?" She gasped.

"No no no no!" You shook your head and waved your hands. "She got away and I let her."

"Well why the hell would he send y'all after her? What did she do?"

"Nothing, man." You shook your head. "Not a damn thing. She just didn't want to stay. I don't get it."

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x y/n #daryl x you

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the-name-is-z · 25 days ago

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SKELETONS | ch. 56

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The group resorts to extreme methods to survive. A mysterious "friend" tries to help. A thunderstorm forces them to take shelter in a nearby barn. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; starvation; dehydration; resorting to extreme methods of survival (eating dog meat); mourning; suspicious coercion methods; coping mechanisms

Chapter 56 - Wanderers

There was a part of Iris that knew she had to eat. She was so hungry. And the smell of cooking meat and the sounds of her companions sinking their teeth in made it all that much harder. But the other part, the bigger part of her, was beyond nauseated at the idea of eating the dogs. Their bloodied collars still sat on the side of the road.

Daryl and even Carl tried to convince her to eat, Sasha too, but she couldn’t. Noah couldn’t either, and she didn’t blame him. Even Gabriel had some, pulling off his clerical collar and tossing it in the fire as he did so.

Iris closed her eyes and choked down a few bites, enough to get her by. She gagged and almost lost the rest of the contents of her stomach, but her will to absorb some sort of nutrition was stronger than her will to vomit.

They eventually moved onward, continuing their painfully slow pace down the road. As they passed around what remained of their water supply, Abraham attempted to pass around his bottle of bourbon. They all denied it, despite the ever-growing temptation to give up.

Iris passed the water bottle back to Glenn, who then offered it to Daryl. He shook his head and Glenn pushed it out further.

“Daryl.” He insisted.

“Don’t.” Daryl snapped back.

“We can make it together.” Glenn assured. “But we can only make it together.” Daryl ignored Glenn, and he trudged back up to walk with Maggie. Iris looked back at Daryl, but he shook his head.

“Tell them I went looking for water.” He grunted, before disappearing into the foliage that lined the sides of the road. She sighed, swallowing through her very dry throat, and started counting her steps.

Daryl found a trail off the side of the road very quickly, spotting a small barn further down. He looked up into the sun, feeling it burn his retinas before sitting down against a tree. He ignored the fact that the lighter belonged to Iris as he pulled it from his pocket, lighting a cigarette.

He went through half of six cigarettes, each one deposited on the dry brush between his knees before he looked up into the sky again. He pulled the seventh from between his lips, glanced at the ash collecting at the end and pressed it into the side of his hand.

It was a familiar feeling. His father had often used both himself and Merle to put out his cigarettes. He was riddled with scars. And though he knew it burned, and recognized the pain, it felt like nothing. Numbness was all that was left, the slight pressure of him pressing it harder and harder until it crumpled and joined the others in the grass. Even as his finger brushed the ash from the wound, he felt nothing.

Then, he felt everything. Thick sobs wracked his body as he clutched his knees to his chest. He shed a few tears, though they were all so dehydrated there wasn’t much left to cry. It all came rushing at once, swallowing him whole. His brother. Hershel. Bob. Beth. Tyreese. His brother. Beth.

What else could he do? He felt so helpless, so frustrated. They had nothing. They lost everything. He took heavy breaths, sniffling through it. He lost so much. He lost everything. Well, not everything.

It was that thought that brought him back to his feet. Hours had gone by, and the sun had softened. He checked the barn, finding nothing, returning empty handed back to the road, the others. They were all he had left. His… everything.

They stood in the road with somber expressions as he returned, Rick stepping forward to hand him… a note. A piece of paper. FROM A FRIEND, it read. He looked around, huffing his crossbow over his shoulder in preparation. A few of the others had their guns out, standing in a sort of circle facing every direction.

“What else are we going to do?” Tara asked. Iris looked down at their little gift. Jugs upon jugs upon bottles upon bottles of water. Enough for each of them and more. And it looked clean. Fresh.

“Not this.” Rick denied. Iris winced at the pained expressions of the group. They weren’t exactly in a position to refuse resources. Especially those that came free… at least for now. “We don’t know who left it.”

“If that’s a trap, we already happen to be in it.” Eugene pointed out. “But I, for one, would like to think it is indeed from a friend.”

“What if it isn’t? What if they put something in it?” Carol asked.

“The likelihood of that being the case is next to none.” Eugene protested.

“Well it’s not zero, is it, Eugene?” Iris snapped in reply. “The likelihood of a dead man getting back up after shooting him in the chest is also next to none, wouldn’t you say?” He said nothing, pursing his lips before stepping forward and grabbing a bottle.

“What are you doing?” Tara asked.

“Eugene.” Rosita protested.

“Quality assurance.” He stated, cracking open the bottle and putting it to his lips. Abraham stepped forward and slapped it out of his hands, the water spraying across his face and to the ground. Iris mourned the potential loss as it seeped into the asphalt. Abraham said nothing as he stepped back into his place in the circle. If he had to live with himself, they all did, apparently. Especially Eugene.

“We can’t.” Rick repeated. They all looked up into the sky as thunder rumbled, and Iris’ heart rate spiked. Rain. Water. The downpour started almost immediately, and she looked up, opening her mouth. Even a few drops on her tongue was better than nothing at all. Rick grinned as Carl mirrored her, chuckling. Tara and Rosita lay down in the rain, giggling to one another. Eugene stuck his tongue out.

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” Gabriel whispered.

“Everybody get the bags. Anything you can find.” Rick called, waving them forward as he and Abraham knelt by the bags. “Come on.”

They scattered, grabbing any and every receptacle capable of holding liquid. Bowls. Bottles. Judith started to cry as the thunder increased, clapping loudly overhead. Carl removed his hat, holding it over her head. Despite the rain, none of them wanted to be caught in a storm. It’d be pretty ironic if they died of hypothermia in the rain after nearly dying of thirst.

“Shelter, anyone?” Iris called over the thunder.

“Let’s keep moving!” Rick agreed.

“There's a barn!” Daryl called over the roar.

“Where?” Rick asked. Daryl led them through the downpour, Rick and Carol giving the barn a quick sweep before the group flooded inside. Maggie’s steps were slow and cautious, and Iris could tell by the look on her face that she was uncomfortable. She hadn’t even considered the last barn they all had been near…

“You okay?” Iris asked, gently holding her by the elbow. Maggie swallowed, nodding. She looked down at a stack of books, staring holes into the thick Bible that sat on top of the pile. They were set in front of a small closet and she opened the door, peering inside. There was a walker on the floor, one of the ones so far gone they couldn’t hold anything up anymore, wheezing across the wood planks. Maggie stared, sighing as she pulled out her knife and killed it. Iris came up behind her, peering over her shoulder into the tiny room.

“She had a gun. She could have shot herself.” Maggie pointed quietly. Iris followed her gaze, nodding. The shotgun leaned against the wall. To the walker’s credit, it was pretty hard to shoot yourself in the head with a shotgun that had a barrel longer than your arm, but yes, she chose to sink into the uncomfortable embrace of rotting bones and snarling for eternity.

“Some people can’t give up.” Iris replied. She looked up at Maggie, who was still staring at the shotgun. “Like us.”

They settled into the barn, avoiding the leakier parts of the roof and finding spots that felt comfortable. Maggie lay in one of the corners with an oil lamp, pretending to sleep. Many of the others were already resting, leaning against the walls, bales of hay, whatever they could find. Abraham was still nursing that same bottle.

Daryl built a fire, a few of them coming to sit around and get warm, but there wasn’t much dry wood they could burn. Glenn offered to try, but there was nothing he could do to dry the wood any faster. Carl and Judith had dozed off, snuggled together. Carl had his head laid on Iris’ lap, Judith hugged to his chest. He’d be embarrassed about it if he woke up and realized where he had fallen asleep, but when Rick asked if Iris would like him to move them, she shook her head. She was simply glad they felt safe enough to sleep there.

“He’s gonna be okay.” Carol assured when Rick glanced nervously down at his son again. “He bounces back more than any of us do.”

“I used to feel sorry for kids that have to grow up now. In this.” Rick mused. “But I think I got it wrong. Growing up is getting used to the world. This is easier for them.”

“This isn’t the world.” Michonne interrupted sharply. “This isn’t it.” Iris sighed, her gaze trained on Maggie, who still lay alone across the barn. She looked down, brushing a strand of hair from Carl’s face. He barely stirred. They could deny it all they wanted, but Iris knew the truth. This was it. This was all there would be. And they could make of it what they would.

“It might be.” Glenn murmured, voicing her thoughts. “It might.”

“That’s giving up.” Michonne criticized.

“It’s reality.” He replied with a shrug.

“Until we see otherwise, this is what we have to live with.” Rick stated definitively. They all paused, letting his words sink in among the raindrops and thunder outside in the dark. “When I was a kid…” He began, “I asked my Grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war. He wouldn’t answer. Said that was grown-up stuff, so… so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him. But he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. Every day, he woke up and told himself, ‘Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war.’ And then after a few years of pretending he was dead, he made it out alive. That's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do, and then we get to live.”

Iris paused at that, measuring his words, his tone. She always did that. It was a habit. When you grow up eavesdropping on meetings with some of the most dangerous people in the city, you got accustomed to hearing the hard things early. Felix always tried to protect her, but no one could ever hide everything. Rick spoke as if he was justifying things he hadn’t done yet. Like he was defending himself.

No one ever got to choose how heavy killing weighs on their soul. Rick had taken many human lives since everything started, and with no end in sight. Anyone could defend his actions, his choices, his values and morals. But only the person holding the knife, the gun, the red-handled machete, the person who does the killing, only they get to decide how much it takes. How big of a piece of your soul you’re giving up in exchange for someone else’s.

While some people, like Iris, guarded what was left of their soul like a dragon and its hoard. People like Daryl keep their soul locked tightly away and blame only themselves when the bars of their cage are too tight for them to breathe. And people like Rick… they left their souls unguarded for the sake of others. Let piece by piece be ripped from its place, fall away, wither, if only to say it was the honourable thing to do. But what was honourable about protecting others, about ‘winning’ or ‘surviving’ if you lose every part of yourself along the way?

“No matter what we find in D.C., I know we’ll be okay.” Rick assured, unmoving, unblinking, unwavering. “Because this is how we survive. We tell ourselves that we are the walking dead.”

Glenn looked up nervously from the hypnotizing flames, exchanging equally nervous glances with Daryl and Iris. Just how much of Rick’s soul had he already signed away? Iris felt tears line the inside of her eyes. She felt so incredibly lost. We are not dead. We are not dead. We are not dead.

“We ain’t them.” Daryl said darkly. He shifted into a crouch from his seated position, his fingers twitching and fidgeting with sticks from the firewood, the ground.

“We’re not them.” Rick consoled, tilting his head to get him to look at him, as if Daryl were a child. Iris grimaced. Daryl’s face twisted into a scowl and he stood, grabbing his crossbow.

“We ain’t them.” He repeated definitively. Rick blinked as Daryl turned away and made himself at home in an empty stable. Iris took a long shuddering breath, ignoring Glenn’s radiating anxiety for the sake of calming her own.

“We’re not dead.” She whispered, to no one but herself.

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

@hayley1998

@negansbestie

@lizey-thornberry

#thenameisz #daryl dixon #skeletons #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x original character #daryl dixon x fem! oc

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twigg96 · 5 months ago

Text

Ch. 2: It's a Promise we Keep through Thick and Thin

Ride 'Em Cowboy

Ch. 1 Here

A Rodeo AU

Cowboy! Daryl X Male! EMT! Reader

Chapter Summery: Daryl and Merle head off to work at the ranch with tension building all throughout the day. When things finally come to an explosive fight.

Chapter Warnings: Ranch life, Lou, Merle and Daryl talk about things, swearing, accents, Merle is his own warning, Farm life and situations in farms, Smoking, Smokeless tobacco use,

Tag list: @crashlyrose, @wildcardadrian, @edgyboi10000, @ritosparty, @silly-lil-lee

The sun had hardly begun to rise in the sky when the first crow of the local alarm rooster tore Daryl from his dreamless sleep. Glancing to the bright green numbers on the microwave, Daryl sighed scrubbing his face hard. 5 AM sharp. They had exactly half an hour to get their shit together and out to the field before their boss would be knocking on their door wondering where they were at. Slowly Daryl sat up letting out a long and pained groan as his back ached in protest. These 12 hour days followed by three hour nights were really starting to kick his ass.

Grabbing the pack of nearly empty cigarettes sitting on the bed stand Daryl sighed, he'd brush his teeth later. He plucked a bent ugly one out of the pack. With a long exaggerated sigh, he used the tips of his fingers to pinch the tobacco back into the roll. The orange filter hung from his his bottom lip as he tapped the silver lighter out out of the carton. Striking it across his thigh he held it up to the end of his cigarette. Blue eyes watched the flame with determined double vision. Reaching up he cupped the brilliant flame with his other hand watching the cherry catch.

Smoke lingered in the air and circled around the shitty room in the double wide he shared with his brother. Wood paneling covered the walls making the room feel much darker and dreary than it really was. Certainly didn't fuckin' help anything that his boss refused to let them hang anything on the walls after Merle drilled a six inch hole in the wall "on accident."

Speaking of his dumbass of a brother...

Daryl stood up, albeit a little too fast for his body's liking, stumbling forward with a low growl tumbling to cling to the wall for support. His head spun and ached around his dry mouth and throat, waiting for the sick twisted feeling in his stomach to go away before pushed away with too much confidence.

The jeans he wore to bed would have to do. Bending over to dig through the clothes hamper was too big of a risk. Side stepping to his dresser drawers, Daryl pulled out a clean-ish white tank top and a button up work shirt. Anything that kept the critters from digging into his skin was a win for him, even if it didn't help to keep the sweltering heat at bay. Last but not least he plopped on his wide brimmed hat.

Stumbling out the door of his room Daryl pulled his belt tight, stuffing his shirt into the waistband of his jeans. He stopped at Merle's door covered in dated concert posters and models ripped straight from a sticky magazine. Rapping hard and fast on the thin plywood of the door he was surprised when it creaked open unlatched and unlocked.

The room wreaked of smoke, not just of the tobacco he was currently puffing on. Of weed and other substances he'd rather pretend he didn't recognize. Ignorance is bliss especially in the face of the police.

Posters covered the walls and holes Merle still needed to plaster over. An incense holder burned carelessly in the corner of the room adding to the range of smells in the room. The too large beige comforter shifted in strange lumps.

"Hey dick fer brains." Daryl growled, slamming the door open the whole way. "We got work-"

Well fuck him sideways!

Daryl stepped back his heart dropping straight into his fucking asshole. Sitting up in Merle's bed was that pretty little thing from the night before. Lilly? Louize? Jean? Didn't really fuckin' matter.

"Ah... wha-" She moaned pushing back her rat's nest of a mane. Grey sheets fell from her shoulders held only by her hand to cover her naked chest as she sat up to inspect Daryl with squinted blue eyes. "Oh... Oh I remember you." She slurred, her head lulling to the side, her bright blonde hair cascading down to cover her face. She pointed at the youngest Dixon giggling fondly.

"Yeah... your the one that's riding on Mermer's team." She mused bringing her right knee up to her chest. "What are you doin' here so early, cowboy? Didn't think training started til later." She hummed, tilting her head to lay her cheek on her knee.

Daryl swallowed hard and thick. Anger and frustration filling his chest as he stared at the woman laying in Merle's bed. Glancing to the floor Daryl shook his head at the entire predicament he found himself in.

"Got work..." He murmured soft, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, pushing his hat up over his eyes.

"Where's-" Daryl blinked, what had she just called his brother?

"Where's Merle?" He asked, staring down at his feet, silently wishing he had his boots on. The woman hummed clicking her tongue at Daryl.

"You're all work and no play aren't you?" She teased, winking at him. "Don't worry. He's in the bathroom. Said he needed to shower before he went to check on his farm for today."

Check on his farm? Poor girl...

Daryl sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. "You gotta way home?" He asked.

Smirking the woman nodded. "Yes'm. Drove myself here last night when your brother called begging for a-"

"Aight." Daryl cut the girl off with a wave of his hand, turning right around down the hall ignoring the girl's giggles.

Dumb sum' bitch.

Storming to the bathroom door that hissed and billowed with as much fog as a couch fire, Daryl damned near kicked the door in with as much force as he pounded on it.

"Je-Sus!" Daryl could hear Merle swear, loud banging and tumbling was either Merle dropping his body wash or falling flat on his face scrambling to get the fuck out of the shower. Either way Daryl could give a shit right now.

"I thought I told ya." Merle cried, the sound of the faucet turning off and a drawer slamming shut only slightly amused Daryl. "Ta stay in the room and if ya had ta piss go outside!" Merle growled throwing open the door. A billow of steam surrounding him in all his naked glory holding only an old stained towel around his middle to cover himself.

What a ladies man...

Daryl glared daggers at Merle, his hands eyeing his brother as he stood silent and judging. The eldest Dixon's eyes widened and his face turned from anger and contempt to a fake smile that more resembled a sneer as he faced Daryl.

"Oh... mornin' little brotha. Take it ya ran inta Lou this morning?" He asked, smirking as if were no thing at all. Daryl stayed silent. His face and body reading the utter disgust he felt. Merle however didn't seem one bit affected, shrugging off his brother's indifference to grab his clothes from toilet seat.

"Ya wanna jump in the sha'er real quick 'fore we head off ta work?" He asked pulling on his boxers and jeans under the the towel. Tossing the damp cloth into a heap in the corner of the room when he was done.

It took all Daryl had in him not to punch Merle in the nose. The older man was sporting a shiner from the night before he never learned a damn thing from. Merle cocked a brow at his younger brother pulling his muddled wifebeater over his head.

"Her rack got ya all in a stupor or sum shit?" Merle teased patting Daryl on the shoulder as be pushed past, stumbling into the kitchenette. Daryl followed close behind his glare burning a hole into Merle's back. The thick smell of coffee mixed with the sweet smell of Merle's cheap ass cigars.

"Wha'?" Merle asked glancing over his shoulder, pulling down two coffee mugs for them both.

"Swalla yer tongue sometime last night?" He asked. Merle poured the coffee black straight from the pot into their thermos. The little red light on the side of the pot flicked off when Merle unplugged the machine. Daryl caught the tall green thermos he knew was his own by the faded peeling camo duct tape wrapped around it's middle.

Daryl rolled his eyes, stuffing his feet deep in his boots and grabbing his keys from the hook beside the door. The bright blue Prius sitting in front of their trailer stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rusted trucks he and the other ranch hands owned. The broad owned one of the most suspicious cars to own for a marital affair out in the country...

With a shake of his head, Daryl huffed slamming the squealing door of his truck shut harder than he probably should have if he wanted the rust to stay put on the bottom. He tossed his thermos back into the back cupholder, tapping the steering wheel impatiently.

Slowly the sun's rays cast a red hue across the wheat field that swayed in the wind across the dirt road from their trailer park. The trees silhouetted cast long shadows across the ground and the air hung heavy with every breath he took even though it wasn't quite cold enough to see his own breath.

Tapping out his cigarette in the truck's ash tray Daryl glanced over to his brother as he slowly climbed in. "Well... lets get this over with..."

The ride to work was bumpy and rough. While usually filled with talks of bull shit and lies or the radio blaring too damned loud for how early it was in the morning, the ride was eerily quiet. Gravel crunched under the truck's tires and while the road wasn't too bad Daryl made sure to hit every pot hole possible just to make Merle's car sickness act up alongside the hell of a hang over he knew he was nursing with the coffee he was huffing.

"Fuckin' Christ Daryl." Merle hissed, clinging to the door handle for all he had. "Think ya could hit them holes any fuckin' harder?!" He growled. Daryl hummed a small but satisfied smile gracing his lips as Merle gagged winding down the window stuffing his bottom lip full of spearmint snuff.

With a glance out the open window Daryl watched the poor souls running the tractors plowing and preparing the crop fields who have been working since the crack of dawn. Corn swayed and bent as the combine tractor Merle had been banned from ever driving again drove carefully slowly and methodically through it, spraying the product into the wagon driving beside it. Taking off his hat Daryl stuck it out the window and waved at the drivers. Both drivers returned the favor in kind and if Daryl wasn't mistaken Merle had stuck his hand out to greet them as well.

Dancing and bare crop fields slowly turned to open and bare livestock farm land surrounded by both electric fences and barbed wire. Horses trotted happily around the paddocks shaking their manes and whipping the flies that bothered them with their tails. The loud ear piercing squealing of pigs could be heard a near mile away just over the ridge, tiny piglets running loose in the pen enjoying the morning dew. Goats stood proud on their perch of hay silently judging the Dixon's as they drove past. The smell of manure hung thick and heavy in the air. Even after cleaning the stalls three times that day it still reeked... but so was the ranch life and what getting paid so well included. It was the smell of hard work. A smell Daryl had long since become accustomed to.

The Dixons set to work as soon as they arrived at the main farm. Stepping out of the truck to go their separate ways for a time. They knew their duties by now. Merle went off to grab one of the four wheelers and inspect the fence. Daryl to grab his motorbike and herd them out of the field for the morning. The other hands used the prized horses the boss had available in the stable. Helped them get their exercise. But Daryl was never a fan of horses. In honesty they scared the shit out of him ever since he watched one kick Merle clean across the room.

Placing his hat on the fence post that held his black helmet, Daryl strapped the helmet on tight. The familiar gruff and jingle of tags came to greet him from behind. Daryl smiled at the Shepard mix patting him on the head. "Morning, Dog." Daryl mumbled, starting his bike with a loud roar.

Rolling down to meet the others at the pasture head. His boss Paul Monroe who everyone affectionately dubbed "Jesus" due to his long hair and his status as the ranch owner's son, sat proudly atop his horse Citation an all white horse who batted the flies away with his ears carelessly. The ranch's unofficial veterinarian Dr. Hershel Greene sat atop Nutmeg a name fitting of her color and personality. The doctor brought along his daughters. Maggie and Beth who rode together on Maggie's stallion Deacon.

Daryl flicked off the engine of his bike to hear the others clearly. The two gentlemen seemed to be discussing the morning's plans.

"Well, how many square acres of pasture we lookin' at?" Hershel asked sitting back on the saddle.

"We got about 50 acres in this lower section." Jesus answered, readjusting his riding gloves.

"Well we only need the heifers and the new calves right?" Maggie asked, her body swaying along with Deacon's movements. Jesus nodded eyeing the pasture ahead of them.

"Yeah... problem is that we got a couple of heifers that are late to drop. So we need ta find them and round them up as we're tagging the new calves and rounding the mommas in fer a health check and milking." Jesus hummed in response.

"Lotta land ta jest be plucking a few from the herd." Hershel murmured. "Gotta good chance ta misplace a few and get 'em mixed up." The elderly man glared out to the pasture towards the rolling mountains as dark and broad as any thundercloud.

With a nod Jesus hummed. "When we bring the mommas in we'll bring the whole herd in." He hummed. "But I gotta plan. Hershel and I are gonna ride up the right side of the pasture. I'll take inside. Hershel can take outside to the corners and send the herd round the fence. Just keep them in line. I'll send some product his way. Daryl I want you to ride up the middle and flush them cattle out the middle by reving your engine. Don't hold back we gotta get all these cattle out of here into the holding pen for check ups. Girls I want you to do the same as your dad. Just go around the outside of the pasture. Check the corners and thickets there and once Daryl flushes the cattle out of the thickets in the middle keep them in line and keep a good head count til Daryl meets ya ta help keep them in line. We'll take a total count at the gate and round back if we need. Just keep your radios on and comms open in case we get separated. And remember if ya see a calf without a tag, take the time ta clip it with one or we'll be off count later."

Daryl nodded dutifully clicking on the Bluetooth radio connected to his helmet. "Think I can manage that..." He hummed a smirk playing at his lips, leaning on the handle bars of his bike. Who was he kidding? He loved this part of his job.

"Isn't what Daryl's doing a little... inhumane? I mean your basically trainin' them babies ta be scared of yer bike." Beth asked softly, holding her hand up in front of her face to the sky to block the rising sun from blinding her. An audible sigh escaped both Hershel and Maggie as their horses stepped along with their annoyance.

"Ain't like that." Daryl murmured offering a shrug. "I'm doin' these calves a favor ridin' round in here. Desensitizing them ta the sound of mah bike and the quads that are ridin' round the pastures. Helps ta keep them from causin' a stampede when their older or gettin' spooked so easy by equipment noise. Keeps everyone safe in the end."

Daryl nearly gapped at the way Beth rolled her eyes at him. Shaking her head distastefully. "Don't sound like much of a favor ta me..." She hissed.

The hell got into that girl? Daryl thought shaking his head, glancing to Hershel and Maggie.

The older of the sisters however patted her leg. The signal Daryl understood too we'll for We'll talk about it later. Flicking the engine on his bike Daryl sat up straight signaling to the others he was ready to go. With a flick of his wrist Jesus took off, Hershel following close behind. One glance back Maggie flipped the reigns to Decan, taking off towards the fence.

Pulling back on the gas Daryl took off down the middle of the pasture, keeping a close eye on the fence on either side. Coming to a small group of cattle he round them to the right towards Hershel. Eyeing them for any orange spots or new wobbly calves Daryl moved deeper into the thicket when he didn't immediately notice either.

Slowly he rode over roots, through creek beds, and muddy sloppy waters. Engaging his brake he revved his engine loudly. Leaning back on his leather seat Daryl watched as several cattle bolted out either side of the thickets he sat in front of. Dog barked and growled at his side rounding his bike protectively as cattle came too close for the mutt's comfort. Stepping off his bike Daryl slowly walked up to a calf struggling to keep up with his momma. Grabbing the tag clippers from his back pocket he grabbed the baby around the neck. Holding his frail body firm between his legs Daryl acted quickly, holding it's neck close as he clipped the ear with the GPS tag. All the while keeping an eye on the protective momma stomping around nearby.

"I see ya there momma..." Daryl huffed standing up straight and releasing the baby back to the momma. Watching the others head off towards the girls Daryl flagged them through a thin spot in the thicket. Hopping back on his bike riding on.

The sun was much higher in the sky by the time the group was done herding the cattle into the holding pens. Higher still by the time they had sorted out the mommas into the milking machines with their babies nearby to keep all involved safe.

Sweat glistened off Daryl's forehead. The icy early morning air had rapidly heated up to near stifling and muggy. Sliding the black helmet off his head the rider was more than happy to replace it with his much cooler hat. Staring out at the yearlings released into two separate corrals. Now so energetic and ready to raise calves of their own when last year they were so little made the man brim with pride. Even if he had very little to do with their raising.

"Hey there cowboy." Maggie's smooth voice called out from behind him. Turning with a smile to the young woman Daryl tipped his hat to her.

"Maggie." He greeted her fondly, leaning heavily on the metal fence.

"Thanks fer yer help today." He mumbled his eyes flicking to the hole in her overalls from where they both had wrangled a particularly feisty steer into a holding pen to get banded.

She shrugged her brunette hair held back by a black hair band was slowly falling out, the baby hairs that made up her makeshift bangs framed her sweat beaded face.

"It's no big thing Daryl. Never was." She hummed coming over to lean on the fence beside him.

Daryl hummed. Their friendship felt like it had lasted a life time in this world when it all was said and done. The two had known each other since they each were tikes. Merle brought him along with him to work with him. He remembered clinging to his brothers sweaty hand holding back tears as the sun set, the work day over. Hershel acted more as a father than his ever even attempted to be. The day his mother died, it wasn't his father that comforted him but Merle, Maggie, and Hershel.

Though the two got into their fair share of shit too. Maggie would drag him out past the creeks and streams on her property. Little pellet guns in hand they'd shoot at anything that moved, pretending to be in some movie Daryl had watched while spending the night at her place. Mrs. Greene had tanned their hides for scaring off the birds in her yard that day.

He truly couldn't ask for a better friend.

"So..." Daryl sighed, a soft smile on his face his eyes flicking to the fluffy clouds slowly crawling across the sky.

"Yer sister..." He chuckled as Maggie leaned into his side, slapping him across the chest.

"Dixon..." Her voice lilted, her mouth hanging wide in awe with a gasp of disbelief.

"You wouldn't believe a girl like her could be so swayed by a boy... but... by god she has been." Maggie sighed scrubbing her face with a laugh. Cocking a brow Daryl laughed alongside Maggie.

"A boy huh?" He hummed.

"Need me ta come lay the bastard straight?" He asked. With a soft shake of her head Maggie sighed swiping frustrated tears from her eyes.

"Nah... Tyler's harmless. Just a city boy is all..." She rolled her eyes. "Got her changing her major and transferin' ta the big school with him in the Fall." Maggie huffed. "She said she wants ta go inta politics if ya can believe that bull shit."

Daryl huffed a scowl falling onto his face. His eyes fell to the dirt below them both. Watching the bugs that scurried and ran across the crabgrass that grew in struggling patches across the trail he stood on. His nose scrunching in distaste he scoffed. "Girl sounds like she's chasing a dream that ain't her own."

Maggie hummed in agreement, her boots drawing mindless doodles in the dirt. "That city boy is only gonna get her hurt..." She sighed.

Glancing at her at her from under the rim of his his hat a smirk played at Daryl's lips.

"How's that city boy of yers treatin' ya?" He asked chuckling.

"Yer daddy know bout him yet?" Maggie huffed in response, smacking him across the bicep once more earning a roar of laughter.

"Take not..." Daryl hummed pulling his hat back over his eyes playfully.

"Glenn's just fine, Daryl." She answered curtly.

"But... no daddy doesn't know I'm with him yet... he don't need ta know yet." Maggie huffed. "He had a cow when I went ta prom with you. I can't imagine how he'd react when I bring Glenn home."

Daryl chuckled stepping away from Maggie so she couldn't get another well placed shot in on him. "Yer dad loves ya. He just don't always know how ta show it."

A comfortable silence hung in the air for a moment. Maggie nodding and chewing her cheek in thought.

"So how's your brother?" She asked.

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head he stuffed his hands so deep in his pockets he was sure he'd hit pay dirt. "Dumb as a sack of shit and just as useless." He growled distain thick on his face.

"That bad huh?" She asked, worry etched on her face.

A dark chuckle bubbled up from out of Daryl's throat. "Yeah..."

A shrill ear piercing whistle cut through the air catching not only Daryl's but Maggie's attention easily. Daryl pulled his hat back into place turning towards where Jesus stood high on the bottom rung of the fence waving at the two of them from a thousand yards away screaming his head off, though neither of them could hear him over the sounds of the cattle. Standing next to Jesus stood an unamused Hershel. His arms crossed firmly over his chest eyeing the two with a suspicious brow raised.

"Daryl!" Hershel's commanding voice called over the cattle and the equipment. "Yer ta go work on feedin' tha herd with yer brother!"

With a shake of his head Daryl shrugged at Maggie a deep chuckle emanating from his chest.

Speak of the devil.

"Duty calls, cowboy." She mused tipping his hat back. "You take care of yerself... ya hear? Call us if ya need anything." She said stepping into his chest to hug him tight ignoring the beaming glare Hershel sent their way.

"Easy now... yer daddy's bound ta shoot me yet." Daryl teased, ruffling her hair. "Ya take care too now little sister."

When Daryl finally made his way to the feed pens, having grabbed and downed a bottle of water first, he was unsurprised to find Merle leaning up against one of the support beams. Empty water bottle in hand he was currently using it as a spitter for the snuff he had switched to while he worked. Smokeable tobacco was forbidden in the livestock area of the ranch. Could spark a nasty fire and then no one would have a job.

"There ya are!" Merle chimed pushing off the beam placing the sloshing spitter down on the ground.

"Was wonderin' when you'd show up! Been standin' there and standin' there waitin' fer ya ta show up." He sneered. "Bet ya were off gettin' cozy with that little Greene girl again. Saw their truck here. Know you two have been real close."

Daryl rolled his eyes at his brother pushing past him to grab the first bail of hay. Not a word said to his brother. If Merle was affected, Daryl never noticed nor cared.

Tossing another bail of hay into the feed bins Daryl swiped his hand along his brow a drop of sweat slowly and easily tracing his temple down to his chin as he looked out the barn doors towards the pasture.

"See som'thing out there ya like?" Merle teased, scooping a handful of medicated grains from a metal bucket into the pens to keep the heifers from getting bloat.

"Nah..." Daryl sighed rubbing his hands on his jeans dust from the hay staining them a pale grey. "Don't see anything I like in here neither." He huffed turning to glare at Merle.

Freezing on the spot, Merle cocked a brow at Daryl. The scoop he had been holding feed in hanging precariously over the last cow's pen as they eyed it hungrily, tongues lapping and twirling in sloppy greed.

"Ya got a problem with me little botha?" Merle asked narrowing his eyes at Daryl, spilling the feed onto the cows carelessly.

Indeed. Indeed Daryl had several problems with Merle. He hated that Merle would show up to work late. He hated that he would be hung over and sick and claim he couldn't do his normal load but Daryl could pick it up. But most of all he hated that the bastard had a proclivity for volunteering him for damned near everything nowadays. Especially when he went around making things especially dangerous by fucking the one woman that could get them both fuckin' shot.

"Ya ain't say a damned thang ta me all day long and when ya do it's that horse shit?" Merle growled glaring at Daryl, finger flexing around the metal scoop dangerously. "You better fuckin' clear that attitude up right fuckin' now before we both have problems."

Daryl huffed turning his glare onto Merle he stayed still. His heart hammered hard and fast in his chest. Nostrils flaring as he paced across the pen.

"Yeah I got a problem... got a problem with yer fuckin' gamblin'." Daryl growled. He watched as Merle stood still a confused angry look on his face as he tried to put two and two together.

"Oh shit." Merle laughed shaking his head, his shoulders relaxing as Daryl rounded once more in the track he beat into the dirt of the barn.

"Is this 'bout that little cow ridin' gig I got you put into?" He whined a devilish smirk gracing his features as he strutted over to the metal bucket to drop the scoop back off with a final clang. "You should be thanking me for the exposure little brother... Them ladies will be crawling all over you by the time-"

"Nah... don't want that." Daryl hissed waving Merle off as if swatting a fly. The older man hummed not bothered in the slightest, instead simply nodding his head.

"Ya never were one fer that ladies... gotta wonder sometimes bout ya little brother." Merle sighed shaking his head.

With a roll of his eyes Daryl paced the width of the pen, honestly not hearing anything his brother said after that... he didn't give a damn what worried him and what didn't in his own dating life. Merle needed to get his own life under control.

But that Jaxson man... he gave Daryl the chills in a way only Merle's friends ever had before. He felt dangerous and the gun on his hip... just because he never wanted to talk to Merle again didn't mean he wanted to find him shot dead in the trailer one day...

"Hey!" Merle's rough voice pulled Daryl from his thoughts. Course calloused fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist keeping him from pacing further.

"Ya ain't still scared are ya?" Merle teased even if his voice betrayed the truth of his honesty.

"Scared a' wha'? Dying unsuspecting in the trailer one night because mah brotha couldn't keep his pecker to himself for one god damned night?! Yeah Merle I'd say that bothers me." Daryl hissed coming to a stop in front of his brother.

"Bein' impaled and trampled on ain't exactly high on my bucket list o' thangs I wanna do neither!" He hissed stepping into Merle's personal space. But, once again Merle didn't seem phased at all instead he shrugged a smile gracing his lips.

"Ain't nothin' you never done before... and Lou ain't gon' snitch on us. Her husband don't do tha thangs I do ta her so we ain't got nothin' ta worry bout." Merle said waggling his brows as if that would soothe Daryl daring to raise a hand to silently tell him to keep his voice down.

Daryl shook his head, pulling his arm away from Merle with a huff. Resuming his steady pace Daryl brought his hand up to his mouth, chewing the inside of his thumb.

"Nah... fuck that." He huffed pacing the small space between the feed cans.

"This ain't no steer wranglin' Merle. The goal ain't ta get them on the ground. Their goal is ta get you on the ground." Daryl hissed.

"Yeah but if anyone can-" Merle tried to counter a worried expression on his face.

"Eight seconds. One handed. That's the time I got ta beat ta fuckin qualify. Eight seconds of ridin'. Count it dip shit!" Daryl yelled, face turning beat red, slamming a fist into the can he stood near. The cattle in their pens screamed in retaliation to the loud sudden noise but in all honesty Daryl couldn't give a shit.

"There! There was eight god-damned seconds Merle! A blink of an eye! And that's how long I got ta stay on that fuckin' bull!" Meeting Merle's eyes Daryl watched a slow realization dawn on Merle one he wasn't sure he'd get out of his brother.

"And ta get any points I gotta make ridin't that bull in-" Slamming his fist down once more on time, he watched Merle jump at the sound, "that amount of time look fuckin good or else we won't get enough fuckin points ta pass inta the next round and win!"

With a swift kick to the support beam that left his toes aching in his steel toed boots Daryl growled low and frustrated struggling to catch his breath.

"Six seconds..." Merle muttered low and uncharacteristically soft. "Lou said it was six seconds cause it's an amateur ride."

Great. Just what Daryl wanted to hear.

Rounding on Merle, Daryl cocked back his fist adding more color to the shiner he created last night. "Yer a fuckin' prick." He spit.

Merle stumbled back holding his eye before falling flat on his ass.

"Wha- How am I tha prick?! I'm just tellin' ya what Lou told me!" Merle bit back glaring up at his brother. "I could let ya flounder on this little brother! I could jest tell ya ta suck eggs and find yer own way! But I aint gonna let ya do that!"

Cause yer hide is at stake too...

"Look... Lou offered ta let ya practice ridin' at her trainin' facility this week. That's why I had her over, Daryl... ta get in good with her and get ya practicin' at a real facility... so ya don't get on one of these tame bulls than get yerself kilt on them bastards they got in the rodeo!"

Glaring at the dirt Daryl chewed the skin of his thumb until he tasted blood and even he sucked it away to keep going until pangs of pain shot down his arm.

"Whatcha say little brotha?" Merle asked, slowly pulling himself off the floor.

Daryl couldn't hardly believe he was considering it... but what other choice did he have... He sighed letting his arms fall to his sides. "What makes ya think this Lou chick won't jest rat us out there?"

Silence fell like a heavy blanket on the two as they stood in the pen the cattle falling back into their routine, the tension still thick as hell between the brothers. "Dunno... but this is the best chance we got."

Daryl huffed glaring at Merle. "All cause ya couldn't keep yer damned hands ta yerself..."

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coolstoriesbro · 1 year ago

Text

FOR THE ONES WE LOVE | CH. 6

FANDOM: The Walking Dead

SERIES: For the Ones We Love

STATUS: Ongoing

ERA: Prison

PAIRING: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Female Reader (No Use of “Y/N”)

CHAPTER SIX: Close Quarters

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

SUMMARY: Tensions rise when the group returns to the prison with Glenn, Maggie, and Merle.

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Language, Discussion of Possible/Attempted Sexual Assault, Merle Being Merle

SERIES MASTERLIST

True to his word as always, Rick sent Daryl and Merle to another cellblock upon the group’s return to the prison. He’d been distant towards you since your talk with him back in the woods, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. After fleeing Woodbury, Daryl had made it clear that he wouldn’t return to the prison without his brother. It was an ultimatum, one that Rick hadn’t appreciated, but you’d reminded him how Daryl had selflessly saved all your lives, and if he chose to abandon them, he would be leaving your savior for dead.

The more time that you spent thinking about it, the more the thought of leaving Daryl behind made you feel sick. It was more than guilt; though if Rick had said no to him and Merle coming back, you certainly would have felt that in abundance.

No, it was something else; something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on . . . and maybe, deep down, you didn’t want to.

Maybe it was easier to chalk it up to guilt.

Easier was better these days.

Easier was safe.

Michonne went to Hershel where he saw to her wounds and was forced to relinquish her sword before being assigned a cell where she could rest. The last you’d seen of her; she hadn’t put up a struggle. The woman could barely stand on her own after the two-mile run from Woodbury to the Hyundai, and you could tell that she was grateful for the shelter. Rick didn’t seem too keen on having her stay but agreed to let her take a few days to recuperate at Hershel’s insistence.

Once everyone who needed it had been seen by their resident doctor, Rick updated those who had stayed behind on what went down in Woodbury. Both Hershel and Carol thought it would be best to get back on the road and begin the search for a new home, but the rest of the group vehemently disagreed. Everyone was anxious after making an enemy in the Governor, but they saw the potential for a home in the prison and weren’t willing to give it up without a fight.

It was terrifying, how after only living in the prison for a month, you were willing to fight – to die for these people, if necessary. Terrifying, but also a wonderful thing to have found something worth fighting for in a world that you’d thought was hopeless. These people had become your friends; had shown you kindness when they didn’t owe you a goddamn thing. How many other people could say that about a group of strangers they’d stumbled upon at the end of the world?

Since returning to the prison, things had mostly gone back to normal. Daryl and Merle kept their distance, with only the youngest Dixon brother making appearances to retrieve their meals from the dining area a few times a day. As much as you found yourself thinking about Daryl, even missing the disagreements you had with him over the silliest things, you didn’t question the new living arrangements. It didn’t seem right after what Glenn and Maggie had gone through.

Over the next few days, each member of the group took turns at the guard tower to watch for signs of the Governor launching an attack. Additional duties included searching beyond the armory in case there happened to be any weapons or ammo that had been overlooked, and gathering all the scrap metal from the yard, using whatever they could find to fortify the exposed areas of the prison.

“I still can’t believe Rick let him come back.” Glenn fumed as he worked with you to secure one of the catwalks overlooking the prison yard.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitated, wondering how you could spin this in a positive direction. It took you back to your days in high school, when your friends were both pissed at each other and you were caught in the middle, trying desperately to mend their relationship. Of course, what had happened between Glenn, Maggie, and Merle was much more serious than anything you’d ever had to mediate before.

“I don’t know, Glenn. I mean, maybe the Governor was Merle’s only choice?” You reasoned, picking up a crate and turning it on its side against the fence. “He was on his own in Atlanta, down a hand, probably close to bleeding out . . . ”

Carol had filled you in on the details of how Merle had gotten separated from Rick’s group in the first place. While the older woman was clearly not a fan of Merle Dixon, nothing she’d told you about him had made you regret your influence over Rick bringing Merle back into the fold.

Feeling Glenn’s eyes on you, you sighed. “It’s just . . . the world’s different now. Things can’t be so black and white.”

“You too, huh?” Glenn shook his head.

“Look, I’m not saying forgive and forget.” Turning to face him, you continued. “What Merle did to you was horrible, and maybe we can’t trust him — but you didn’t see that arena. The Governor’s men already outnumber us, and he has seventy more townspeople that he could recruit. We need all the help we can get if we’re going to survive this, and Merle knows how that asshole thinks.”

Silence filled the air as Glenn contemplated your words, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. More pensive. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he returned to the task at hand, working on his side of the catwalk.

“It was bad for me with Merle.” Glenn finally spoke up a few moments later. “But it was worse for Maggie. She was interrogated by the Governor.”

Setting the next sheet of metal down rather than continue with your ministrations, you turned to face Glenn once more, giving him your full attention. You’d known that he loved Maggie from the moment you’d met him and saw how he lit up around her, but if you’d had any doubts, they would’ve been squashed right then and there as you watched him; his dark eyes full with tears of concern for the woman he loved.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Glenn shook his head. “When the Governor – Jesus, I hate calling him that! I feel like I’m showing him respect every time I call him by a title that he doesn’t deserve, but I don’t even know the bastard’s real name.”

Tilting your head, you smirked as you nudged him gently with your shoulder. “Hey, there you go. Bastard. Suits him perfectly!”

Glenn nearly cracked a smile at your suggestion, but pressed his lips together at the last second, as if feeling anything other than misery right now made him feel guilty.

“Okay, the Bastard.” He nodded. “When that fucking bastard brought Maggie to my room, s-she was . . .”

Glenn stopped after he began to fumble over his words. “Hey, you don’t have to talk about this—" You started, lowering your hand over his.

“No, I need to.” Glenn inhaled. “She was only half-dressed, and I don’t know for sure, but I think — I-I think he —" He clenched his fists by his sides, visibly starting to shake. “Fuck.”

Glenn bowed his head in silence, but even so, you knew what he was insinuating. With your hand gripping his, you gave him what you could only hope was a comforting squeeze, but deep down you felt selfish. Selfish because you didn’t want him to go any further — because you didn’t want to have to hear those words and think back to how the same thing had almost happened to you in Atlanta.

Even though Glenn had stopped himself, the memory of Gorman found you regardless; his hands clawing at your scrubs, his weight pressing you into the desk, the smell and sensation of his sticky breath ghosting over your neck and ear as he pulled you closer.

When you’d escaped Grady Memorial, you’d had nothing but those scared, lonely nights on the run to think back to how that monster had tried to force himself on you. But since moving into the prison, the memories were fleeting; the fear becoming something that you thought you might be able to push back to a place where it couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“Shit!” Glenn suddenly cursed, panic spreading across his face when he caught sight of someone rushing past the door.

Maggie.

You looked up to follow his gaze, but she had already come and gone in the span of just a few seconds. Setting his crate aside, Glenn made to follow her, but you grabbed onto his forearm, bringing him to a halt.

“Let me.”

He shook his head, shame flooding his features. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m such an asshole.”

“It’s okay.” You assured him. “I got this.”

When Glenn didn’t stop you, you turned and jogged towards the door. Making your way inside, you caught sight of Maggie rounding a corner.

“Maggie, wait up!” You yelled, falling into step just a couple of feet behind her as you hurried through the corridor.

“I don’t have anythin’ to say to you.” Maggie hissed.

“OK, so maybe you could try listening?” You suggested, following her into the empty dining area.

There were a few empty plates and bowls that had been left behind after lunch, and Maggie attempted to busy herself by putting everything back in its place. At your comment, she turned to face you, her hands full and her expression twisted with anger.

“Look, I know you’re not a big fan of me, but you need to know . . . Glenn’s putting himself through hell. He’s worried sick about you, and he just needed someone to vent to.”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry that this has been so hard for him!” She exclaimed sarcastically.

Lowering your chin, you pressed your lips together. That was fair. If Maggie had really been through what Glenn assumed, you couldn’t exactly fault her for lashing out.

Especially at you.

“Maggie, please—”

“I don’t need your help! You don’t know anythin’ about it!”

“You sure about that?”

For a moment, Maggie said nothing, just stared. Then a look of uncertainty flashed in her green eyes, but just as soon as it had appeared it was replaced by that same look she’d given you when you first arrived at the prison. She didn’t know you, and she didn’t want you here. Why the hell would she reveal the worst thing that had ever happened to her to some stranger?

Tossing the plastic plates and bowls back onto the table, she stormed off, leaving you to clean up the mess. The rage you’d seen in her wasn’t unfamiliar, and you really did feel for her, but all the emotions you’d felt coming from the others since returning from Woodbury were starting to take their toll, and you could only handle so much.

Leaving the mess behind, you grabbed your messenger bag from where you’d left it on the table at lunch and exited C-Block.

—

Desperately needing a distraction, you decided to do some exploring on your own for the first time since arriving at the prison. After making your way down the maze of dark corridors and venturing further into unknown territory, you took note of the arrows that had been spray painted on the walls, pointing back into the direction of C-Block should you lose your way.

The hallways were pitch black, so much so that the white flashlight beam bouncing off the walls was practically blinding. And it was so quiet, with only the sound of some leaky pipes and the occasional squeak of a rat skittering by to break up the eerie silence. You were careful not to take your time, hurrying through as fast as you could before you lost what little nerve you still possessed.

Eventually, you found yourself in a room that had been abandoned like all the rest. There were overturned tables and bookshelves, but further in, you discovered a small area surrounded by plexiglass. Behind the glass, there were racks on display that held packaged snack foods, candies, bottled water, as well as sodas, magazines, slippers, and a variety of other items. There was even medicine, and some bandages.

The commissary.

It was beautiful.

While it wasn’t guns and ammo, to you, it was a hell of a lot more exciting, and you knew that the group would be happy to see these long-forgotten indulgences. Over the next several minutes, you loaded your bag up with food, water, and medicine. Later you would bring Carol back with you, or maybe ask Rick if Carl could tag along to help you pack up the rest.

Once your bag was practically bursting at the seams, you continued down the long stretch of hallway, following the signs imprinted on the otherwise bare walls until you found the exact cellblock that you were looking for.

“I come bearing chips!” You announced, swiftly making your way into D-Block to find Daryl reclining on one of the bottom bunks with his crossbow on his lap. The sight made you wonder if he ever went anywhere without the thing. It was like he was an action figure, and the crossbow was his one accessory.

“Are they stale enough to break a tooth?” You continued, stepping into his cell, and tossing two bags of individual sized chips onto his mattress. “Why, yes, they probably are, but . . . ” You shrugged. “I never thought I’d see chips again, so I’m not about to complain.”

From the moment that you joined him, Daryl’s eyes were drawn to you; his blue gaze watching closely, but still he said nothing. Suddenly, you felt like an idiot who talked way too much, and even more so for allowing yourself to think that the trip to Woodbury had somehow softened him towards you.

“You don’t like chips?” You asked, awkwardly moving your hand to the back of your neck.

Daryl shook his head. “I like ‘em, just wasn’t expectin’ any visitors.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“I didn’t mean to bother you.” You took a step back. “I can—”

“Did I say you were botherin’ me?”

Jesus Christ.

Which was it?

Did he want you here or not?

You opened your mouth, about to say as much with the exhaustion of the last few days truly beginning to wear on you, when he spoke first.

“Just, no one was exactly rollin’ out the welcome mat back there.”

“Did you really expect them to?”

Daryl shrugged, gnawing on the inside of his lower lip as he looked back down at his crossbow and continued doing whatever it was that he was doing to it.

While you didn’t know the Dixon brothers’ entire story, from what you did know, you had a pretty good feeling that Daryl had spent most his life being ostracized by the people around him simply because he had a brother like Merle. It had to have been incredibly lonely, and you hated the thought that the past was now repeating itself with his newfound family.

Deciding that you’d be waiting forever for an invitation if it were to come from Daryl, you took a few more steps inside his cell as you rooted through your messenger bag to pull out a couple packets of beef jerky.

“Thought you might like these, too. There’s enough for both of you.” You offered, extending them to him.

“Merle an’ me went huntin’ earlier.” He muttered. “Already ate.”

Well, Daryl had done the hunting. Merle hadn’t hunted shit, he’d just bitched and moaned and pissed on things while Daryl did all the work, same as always.

“Okay.” You started to pull your hand away when he suddenly turned his body to face yours, his legs dropping over the edge of his mattress as he reached out to take it at the last second, his three middle fingers brushing over your knuckles.

“Nah, we’ll still eat it.”

Holding your breath, you met his eyes again as you released your grip, letting the packets fall into his awaiting palm.

Daryl gave a swift nod of thanks.

“No problem.” You breathed. “Brought this, too.”

He tilted his head, watching as you pulled out a First-Aid Kit.

“When we first got back, I noticed that you didn’t let Hershel look you over.” You explained. “You need to wash out that cut beneath your eye and apply antiseptic.”

“I will.” He muttered.

“No, you won’t.” You sighed knowingly, removing a rag and a bottle of water from the bag over your shoulder.

“Why d��ya care so much?” He asked.

“Because you’re the best hunter we have, and if the infection spreads to your eye and blinds you, I’m gonna get pretty sick of eating stale vending machine food.”

Daryl scoffed. “Ya got those two rabbits yourself the other day. You’d be just fine.”

“Is that a compliment?” You gasped, eyes widening comically.

He grunted.

“Please?” You asked softly, tilting your head.

While he didn’t exactly agree, he also didn’t say no, which was more than enough of an opening for you. Slowly stepping forward, you watched as he remained where he was on the bottom bunk, giving him a few seconds to change his mind if he decided to.

When Daryl sat his crossbow aside and remained seated, you came to a stop as he spread his knees enough to give you some room to stand between them. It was as close as you’d been to him since the car ride to Woodbury, and though you didn’t feel nervous, you made sure not to make any sudden movements, half expecting that he would come to his senses and bolt before you were able to do any good.

“You do this for your boyfriend?”

You looked down at him in surprise. “What?”

Daryl shrugged. “The one with the bike.”

You laughed, suddenly understanding. “Oh, so you think all bikers get into bar fights?”

“I know they do.”

Gently swiping the damp cloth across the gash in his cheek, you sighed. “Okay, you’re right — but no, I didn’t. Not for the fights he started anyway, which was basically all of them. If he was dumb enough to get himself into trouble, he could see to his own damn wounds.”

Daryl watched you closely as you applied the antiseptic to his cut yet didn’t so much as flinch.

“Had your fair share of bar fights, too?” You teased.

He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes finally looking away. You didn’t know if it was something you’d said, or maybe the medicine was starting to sting, but his sudden change in demeanor was hard to miss.

“Are you okay?” You asked, worried.

“The cut? It’s nothin’.”

“I’m not talking about the cut.”

Daryl’s eyes flickered back to study you, his tongue darting out to swipe beneath his top lip. He was about to make his reply when a familiar voice startled you both.

“Am I interruptin’ somethin’?” Merle asked as he sauntered towards Daryl’s cell, the grin on his lips more than a little suggestive.

Shit.

Peeling away the adhesive to the bandage, you gently applied it to Daryl’s cheek before turning to face the eldest Dixon brother.

Merle was around average height, same as Daryl, and had the same broad chest and shoulders. They were built alike, but that was where the similarities ended, as far as you could see.

“These for me, sweetheart?” He asked, nodding toward the snacks that you’d left on Daryl’s mattress.

“Uh, yeah — yeah, they’re for you, and Daryl.” You clarified.

“Well, ain’t you sweeter than sugar.”

You busied yourself by putting the bottled water, antiseptic, and bandage wrappings back into your bag while Merle unceremoniously opened a bag of chips and shoved a handful into his mouth.

“Mm, mm, mmm!” He groaned as if he were experiencing pure bliss the second the salty treat touched his tongue. “These might just be better than sex.”

At Merle’s words, your eyes went straight to Daryl, but with his face turned away, you could just make out the slight flush of crimson that had appeared on his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“Know what I mean?” Merle winked at you.

Glancing at Merle, you shrugged. “Depends on the sex.”

Wait, what?

Had you really just said that out loud?

If a man had ever said anything like that to you before, you would’ve just ignored him. But in this situation, you’d only humored Merle’s lewd comment because of your interest in how Daryl would react.

You could feel the youngest Dixon’s gaze burning a hole into your head, but as soon as you brought your attention back to him, he became very interested in the snacks on his bed. It was cute, seeing how tough, gruff, Daryl Dixon became bashful at the mention of sex. He kept surprising you; proving that he was the opposite of his brother, and unlike any other man you’d ever met for that matter.

“Oho!” Merle guffawed. “That’s good. I like you, girly. I like you a lot.”

After a few seconds of silence, Daryl picked up his bag of Lays, looking it over. “Where’d ya find ‘em anyway?”

“There’s a second commissary not too far from here. Found these, too.” You pulled out a small box of gummy worms and shook them for emphasis. “Carl’s gonna freak.”

For a moment, you contemplated offering some to Daryl, but the idea of what might come out of Merle’s mouth next kept you from doing so. Dropping the box back into your bag, you readjusted the strap over your shoulder.

“Well, I better get going. Speaking of that little punk, he’s probably looking for me.” You smiled fondly.

Daryl nodded. “You sure ya know how to find your way back?”

While his concern for you was certainly flattering, and the idea of taking him up on an escort wasn’t unappealing, you weren’t sure what that would mean for Merle, and didn’t want to risk upsetting anyone if he tagged along.

“I’m good.” You nodded, taking your flashlight from your bag, and flicking it on and off for emphasis. “Someone spray painted arrows along the corridors, thank God.”

“Thank Glenn.” Daryl corrected you. “He did that.”

A disgruntled noise left Merle’s mouth, his lips curling up at the mention of their friend. Deciding that it was best to ignore him, the way you weren’t supposed to reward a toddler for bad behavior, you looked back over at Daryl, waving your hand.

“See you later?”

Daryl hummed in agreement.

“See ya soon, sugar.” Merle called after you with a smirk.

The Dixon brothers watched as you exited the cell and headed back the same way that you had entered. After a few seconds passed, Merle turned to face Daryl, a knowing grin spreading across his features.

“Damn, girl’s got an ass on her like a Georgia peach!” He exclaimed.

“Leave it alone, Merle.” Daryl warned.

“I’m just sayin’—”

“I said, leave it alone.”

“Oh shit. Is this girl it for you, baby brother? After all these years, someone finally caught your fickle eye? Thank Christ! For a while there I was thinkin’ you was a queer.”

“Shut the hell up, Merle!” Daryl stood up from his bunk. “It ain’t like that.”

“Oh, it ain’t? What’s it like then?” Merle took Daryl’s place on the bunk, moving his hands behind his head and leaning back against a pillow. “‘Cause if you ain’t gettin’ a piece of that, I might just—"

“Man, she’d never touch you!” Daryl snarled.

For a moment, nothing was said. Merle’s face went completely blank.

Then the son of a bitch smiled.

“Ain’t like that, huh?”

Daryl seethed, squaring his shoulders and pacing in a tight circle like a caged animal. He’d lived his whole life listening to Merle objectify women, and usually he could tune him out, but not now. Not when he was talking about you.

“Ya know, you’re right. That kinda girl — educated, uppity — she wouldn’t touch neither of us.”

“Whatever.” Daryl grunted, slapping his hand loudly against the bars of his cell before passing through the doorway and leaving Merle behind.

Merle watched as his baby brother made his exit; the smile on his lips growing impossibly wider. Over the years, he had partaken in many arguments with Daryl. They were brothers, after all – but he’d never seen his little brother this bent out of shape over a damn woman.

What the hell was it about this girl that had his brother so defensive?

What was so fucking special about you?

Whatever it was, Merle had every intention of finding out.

—

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl fanfiction #daryl fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl x female reader #daryl x you

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weixuldo · 2 years ago

Text

unconditionally// ch 21

anakin x f!reader

(A/N: the first 1/2 of the LAST chapter!!! and let me just say it’s a looong one, sorry again for the wait! but im still dedicated to writing! it’ll pick up again in summer heheh hope you enjoy and there r more notes at the end!!)

and with this ring… i give myself to you

warnings: swearing, anxious thoughts, amputation recovery, emotionally draining?

__________________________

6 Months Later…

The cool autumn air shook the beautifully colored leaves from the trees as you pulled into the parking lot of Anakin’s physical therapy center; just in time to pick him up.

After graduation you ended up moving in with him and the kids, to which they were delighted to have you with them every day.

Honestly, not much changed since you two were basically already living with each other before your argument in the winter.

Though, his attitude towards you became more gentle and caring than you could possibly imagine. He spoke to you and valued your opinions more than ever and when the rare disagreement would happen, the two of you would sit down and seriously talk through the issue giving both of your perspectives.

Your relationship with the kids also strengthened; now they saw you as part of the family (even though you were not yet married to their father).

During the summer, since the kids were off for break, you would go on little day trips with them while Anakin went to therapy.

Anakin’s therapy had been going quite well; he was able to stand without assistance and walk to the end of the strip holding onto the bars. His main goal was to walk you down the aisle at your wedding, but that was dented when he had to get unexpected surgery on his hip.

Since one of his stumps was a little longer than the other, he had been relying too much on his right leg when doing physio. So his hip was buckling from the inordinate amount of pressure being put on it.

His surgery was a minor one, just reinforcing his hip bone and adding a few screws in to hold it in place, but it still set his progress back.

The swish of the automatic doors blew a soft burst of air into your face as you entered the facility. You looked around the waiting room for your fiance but surprisingly, he wasn’t there yet.

That's odd.

Just as you were beginning to take a seat, you heard his voice thanking his therapist for the session.

He guided his chair with his bebionic hand and smiled at the staff as he passed. His white t-shirt was pretty sweaty and some of his sandy locks were sticking to his forehead.

“Ani” you called as you watched him survey the room in search of you.

His eyes met yours, he smiled, and headed towards your direction. Once he was by your side he offered a sweet smile and brushed your arm with his hand.

“Hi babe, how was your session?” you asked as the two of you headed to the car.

“It went well, I’m almost to my next milestone” he said.

You congratulated him with a kiss on the forehead and the two of you continued home.

____________________________________

In the weeks leading up to your wedding, the house had been a little bit of a mess; planners, papers, decorations, and other random designs floating around all surfaces of the house.

Not to mention the new addition to your small family, Anakin’s new service dog, “R2”.

Originally he didn’t really want a service dog because he thought it would be too much work, but once he met the blue merle border collie candidate, he couldn’t resist.

The young dog was energetic, yet reserved; he enjoyed playing with the kids when he was “off duty”. But as soon as his red vest went on, he was in full service mode.

Anakin named the dog after the last letter and digit of the license plate of the car he had his accident in; he wanted to give the dog a meaningful name that gently reminded him of all he had been through.

R2’s tasks were mainly retrieving Anakin supplies or picking up things when they would slip through his hands. He also would help Anakin through panic attacks and alert him if anything was wrong.

In the past months, R2 had been comforting Anakin during his phantom pains and would help you comfort Ani after a nightmare by nuzzling his snout into Anakin’s lap.

Currently, Anakin was showering, R2 was taking a nap, the kids were playing upstairs, and you were getting your overnight bag ready to go to Ahsoka’s. The long awaited day was tomorrow, you were finally going to marry Anakin.

The two of you decided you wanted to do a little bit of a traditional wedding and not see each other ‘til the wedding, so Ben was staying over with Anakin and Luke, while you and Leia were heading to Ahsoka’s.

The sound of the shower finally turned off and you moved towards your room with a smile. The warm steam seeped out from under the bathroom door as you approached it, with a gentle knock you opened the door.

There Anakin was in his chair, towel draped over his shoulders and his damp hair, flopped over his forehead. He sported a custom waterproof arm specifically for the shower and dabbed his face with the towel as he met your soft eyes.

“Hello beautiful” he addressed as he finished drying off.

“Hey handsome” you smiled, before leaning down to kiss him.

“Ben should be here any minute, so i’m going to head out with Leia soon, so I just wanted to come say bye to you one last time before tomorrow”

He took a moment to study your face before speaking again, “Y/N, I’m so excited for you to be my wife tomorrow, you truly don’t know how much I’ve longed for this moment”

“I think I do, Ani” you smiled back, giving him a peck on the cheek.

He sighed and drew you in for one last sweet kiss before Ben rang the doorbell; your cue to head out.

You rested your forehead on Anains before kissing his cheek, “Until tomorrow, my love”.

He held your hand to his lips and kissed once more, “I’ll be waiting for you”.

With a smile you parted ways, greeted Ben, and headed to the car with Leia.

_____________________________________

A sweet aroma of cinnamon and cedar filled your senses as you entered Ahsoka’s house. She had been burning incense to provide good luck and fortune for your big day tomorrow.

“Hey, Sky gal! Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asked happily as she drew you into a big hug.

You laughed and held her tightly, “Yes, I cannot wait”

“That’s the spirit!” she quipped before crouching down to Leia’s level, “And you my dear, are you ready to be the best flower girl?”

Leia giggled and nodded ambitiously, “I’m so excited for Y/N to be my mommy” she smiled.

A mother…

You never really thought too much into how your relationship with the kids would change, technically, yes, you would be their stepmother.

But recently, it hadn’t hit you that they saw you as a maternal figure. Of course you cared for the kids more than anything, but it was an odd feeling to hear them refer to you as their mother.

All the same, you responded to the brown haired girl with a calming voice, “I'm excited too”.

Ahsoka and you sorted out some last minute venue things as Leia got into bed; once she was asleep you and Ahoka began the luxurious self care routine she had planned. You started with face masks and exfoliants, followed by moisturizers and toners.

Everything was right in the world as the two of you sat on her king-sized bed in fluffy bath robes, watching random movies, and snacking on chocolate covered strawberries she had made earlier that day. Once you were thoroughly relaxed and your hunger satisfied, you headed off to bed.

You thanked Ahsoka once more and entered the guest room. Across the small room you saw your garment bag hanging next to the full length mirror. Ahsoka had been holding on to your wedding dress because you didn’t want Anakin to see it before the big day.

Sleepily you unzipped the bag for one quick glance at your attire for tomorrow and a big smile found its way onto your face.

You couldn’t wait.

_____________________________________

You arrived at the venue with Ahsoka and Leia a few hours before the actual ceremony was set to start; the three of you hurried into the room set aside for getting ready.

Soon after you got situated and started getting ready some of your bridesmaids started arriving; you didn’t have too many, but you did ask some of your friends and a cousin or two to accompany you.

“Y/N!! I’m so proud of you!” one of your childhood friends exclaimed as she rushed over to hug you.

You laughed light-heartedly as she gave you a kiss on the cheek.

Once everyone arrived you began to get ready. As much as you hated to admit it, getting ready with all the girls was so fun. Everywhere you looked there was someone doing their makeup or helping another girl with their hair. You also saw Leia’s excitement as the older women doted on her and complimented her cute dress.

Ahsoka finished up her eyeliner and washed her hands before heading over to help you into your dress. Once she met you she smiled.

“Oh my, Y/N, you look like a dream!” she said as she lightly brushed your cheek with the back of her hand.

“Thank you so much Ahsoka, for everything.” you responded with a light blush on your cheeks.

Her manicured hands found their place over her heart as she looked at you adoringly.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I’m so honored to call you my friend and I know you are so good for Anakin”.

You felt your emotions stir at her mention of your future husband. Instead of allowing your emotions to spill over, you took her into a loving embrace.

Everything was falling into place with less than an hour to spare. Not to say you weren’t getting last minute jitters; your subconscious anxieties began to break into your mind and you became a bit nervous.

What if he changed his mind? Were you too young? Was this the right decision? Were you ready to commit? Why were you over-thinking? Does overthinking mean you aren’t actually happy? Or is that just more overthinking?

Your restless mind raced with thoughts until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It's time” a beaming Ahsoka said, offering you a hand to stand.

As you stood the train of your dress flowed perfectly under you and the veil trailed nicely as you walked towards the doors. As you smoothed out the lace and embellishments, you heard the familiar tune of the song you chose for your procession.

Indeed, it was time.

_________________________________

The doors of the venue opened to reveal the long silk runner for you to walk on to meet Anakin at the altar. Through your veil you could see the attendants on each side of the aisle, the rows were full of family, friends, and people you hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. It was a little overwhelming with all eyes on you.

The weather was perfect, the sky partly cloudy and the greenery of the venue in full bloom. As the music continues you made your way to your future husband.

An excited Leia walked in front of her brother with a wicker basket of assorted flowers. The crowd collectively awed at her when she tossed the petals. Close behind her was Luke, proudly carrying the rings in a small glass box.

Finally you reached your destination at the end of the aisle so meet a smiling Anakin. As you took your place beside his chair at the altar you felt a sense of relief, you were here with him and it felt right.

He looked at you as if you were a goddess, his eyes only on you with such a look of awe. He was faced towards you in his chair and you met his gaze through the veil as you blushed.

His hair was combed back nicely; the longer strands curling slightly at the ends. His suit was tailored to fit his body perfectly; his shoulders looked broad and strong.

Through the veil you could smell his familiar cologne and that further quelled your anxieties.

You were ready.

Once the music stopped and the crowd sat, Ben came up from his place as best man to help Anakin to his feet. The two of you had planned to have him stand at the altar because you would be there if he needed, and he was able to stand by himself for longer periods of time now.

You couldn’t help but get butterflies every time he stood to his full height; his prosthetics made him slightly taller than the 6 '2 he was before the accident.

Once he was situated the officiator began,

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today….”

To be quite honest you toned him out, instead focusing all of your energy into trying to get the clearest look at the man in front of you through the lacy veil. You couldn’t quite make out his whole expression but you could tell he was happy.

Soon the officiator initiated the next part of the ceremony, “And now the couple will share their vows”.

You began with yours, just something small you prepared, from the heart.

“Anakin, I cannot express to you how much you mean to me…I can’t believe that only a year and a couple months ago, we didn’t even know each-other existed. You have become such a pivotal part of my life and I’m so honored to have you in my life and to love you”

As you continued the soft smile on his face widened and his blue eyes became caverns of emotion.

“And with this ring, I give myself to you… as your partner, your number one supporter, and your wife”

You placed the gold band onto his mechanical finger and looked back into his eyes as he began his vows.

“Y/N, sweetheart. Darling. My love. This past year has been a rocky one. But you have been there every step of the way, not just for me but for my kids too, I truly don’t think I would have survived without you. Every time I wanted to give up and accept death, you were there to help pull me through. You gave me strength when I had none, you cared for my children when I couldn’t, and gave me love the whole time. You taught me I could feel love again, you showed me that when I couldn’t even love myself. And for that I am eternally grateful, you have my heart, F/N.”

You blinked away the tears as you gazed into his vibrant eyes.

“I am so blessed to have you as my wife and I promise I will always love you…..unconditionally”

His beautiful blue eyes, now endearingly an ocean of emotions as he gazed upon you.

It took him longer to get the ring on your finger than you did with him because he was having difficulty gripping the small band of gold, but once he did he slid it onto your finger in the most tender way possible. You could tell he had practiced this motion before the ceremony because his fine motor skills were not usually this accurate. Your heart swelled at the thought.

Once it was on the officiator continued to the final part.

“Anakin Skywalker, do you take F/N L/N, to be your lawfully wedded wife and to cherish her through sickness and in health?”

“I do” he smiled down at you

“And F/N L/N, do you take Anakin Skywalker to be your lawfully wedded husband and to cherish him through sickness and in health?”

“I do” you responded, voice dull of adoration.

“Then, with the power vested in me, I Pronounce you, Husband and Wife. You may kiss your bride. Congratulations”

With the resonance of those words in your ears Anakin stepped closer to you and slowly reached his hand up to your veil to pull it back. He was careful not to mess up your hair or bump your face.

You beamed up at him as he got a clear look at your sweet face. It felt as if time stopped, it was only you and him. He mapped every inch of your face as if it were the first time he was seeing your beauty. He was so in love.

Gently, yet passionately the two of you joined in a longing embrace and sealed your vows with a kiss.

Finally, you were his and he was yours.

***

(a/n: omg u guys, thank you so much for sticking with me through this journey… i cannot express how much each and every one of you mean to me!! this started out as me anonymously posting a fic idea and now here i am w 500 something followers and over 6,000 reads 🥹🥹 i love this story so much and it’s bittersweet to come to the end, but don’t worry i’ll do an epilogue heheh)

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dantesunbreaker · 1 year ago

Text

Why Do You Lie? Ch. 3/3

Daryl Dixon x Transmasculine Reader

I have this posted on Ao3, but I like having my work cross posted. This has some pretty heavy themes so be warned. I kind of hate this chapter. It was rushed and I wasn't motivated. Some traumatic stuff happened during the writing of it so I went a month without working on it. So apologizes if it doesn't live up to the rest of the story.

Trigger Warnings: Attempted Suicide, Mention of Transphobia, Mentions of Drug Overdose, Self Harm, Mental Illness

Stunned sums up about all that Daryl can feel in the moment as he staggers backwards when you barrel past him into the cell block. Shit. Of all the things, making you cry was the last thing that Daryl wants to be responsible for. Just.. he always struggled with this kind of thing. Relationships. Emotions. Anything of the like was almost like a foreign concept to him, something that would just make his head spin when he tried to wrap his mind around it. Not that he didn’t want those things. He really did. Especially with you. But it is far easier to fall back on old ways than to adapt to change. Kind of like the saying you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Daryl sometimes sure felt like an old dog.

With a heavy sigh, the archer crouches down to examine the bottles spilling out from your discarded messenger bag. Taking the time to actually read the label, Daryl finds himself still at a loss for what it could possibly be. It’s baffling. Merle was notorious for his experimenting with drug use. If you could get high from it, you can bet your ass that Merle had tried it at least once. So why didn’t Daryl recognize this one?

Lifting your bag, Daryl stuffs all the bottles back into your bag and sets his way towards the one person he trusted to know the answers to what it was and why you were after it. Hershel. Probably the only other person at the prison you readily would confide in. With such a calm, gentle soul, the old man could put anyone at ease. Daryl finds him in the infirmary, book in hand as he peacefully reads to pass the time.

“Hey,” Daryl breaks the silence as he steps into the room, setting your bag down on the table but choosing to remain standing opposite Hershel. “Can I ask ya somethin’?”

Giving a content hum, Hershel snaps the book shut and sets it down on the table as he turns to give the archer his undivided attention.

“Certainly. How can I be of service today?”

In one swift motion a single bottle is pulled from your bag and placed onto the table directly in front of Hershel with the label facing him. A word hasn’t even left Daryl’s lips before the older man is plucking the bottle off the table and turning it over in his hands.

“Hopin’ ya might be able to tell me whatever this is used for,” Daryl explains as he shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, a small pit of dread forming in his gut.

“Propranolol. It’s a beta blocker, which means it blocks the effects of epinephrine. Adrenaline. Commonly you will see it used to treat heart conditions or high blood pressure, but in some cases it may also be used in treating the physical effects of anxiety,” the bottle is once more set on the table between them. “Not something on our usual lists of medicines. Who did we pick this up for?”

That small feeling of dread forming in Daryl’s gut is suddenly a dense heavy weight that makes him feel he might drop to the floor. Of course. With all the time spent watching over you or spent with you, he knew you to be a highly anxious individual. The hunter in him often thought of you as a skittish buck, always moments from freezing in the metaphorical headlights or bolting for the trees. Things as simple as a wrong word said in conversation could stall you up, with only Daryl’s hand resting on your shoulder seeming to pull you back to reality. But somehow Daryl never put much thought to your behavior. With the way Daryl felt towards you, it was hard not to think everything about you was normal and perfect.

“Y/N,” Daryl finally manages to get his dry tongue into motion. “Had his whole bag stuffed with ‘em. Froze up and nearly got himself bit doin’ so. I uh... sorta got into it with him about. Twice. ”

“I suppose that’s why the boy seemed so distressed when I saw him run past?” The archer gives a short nod. “Well, you best go find him and not waste anymore time. Y/N is a very troubled young man. I fear that he may do something rash to himself if he hasn't already.”

Fear spikes at Daryl’s heart as he realizes the gravity of the situation. Heart thudding against the cage of his ribs, Daryl bolts towards the only way you could have gone. How could he have been so stupid? Hershel watches as the archer races away before he slowly stands to begin gathering supplies to prep the infirmary. If you were still alive, your best chance for survival was to be able to get the necessary medical help as soon as possible.

Reaching the cell block he had helped clean not too long ago, Daryl throws open the door and takes a cautious step through. Part of him expects, hopes, that you would pop your head out of one of the cells to greet him. But of course that isn’t the case. However, about halfway down the block the archer thinks he can see something scattered across the floor. Impending dread seeps further into his senses as he takes silent steps closer. Tiny blue pills pepper the ground in a sporadic pattern.

No! Rounding the corner into the cell, Daryl feels as if his heart stops dead in his chest at the sight of your crumpled form pressed back against the wall. Crimson pools on the ground just below you while a slow dribble continues from your left wrist. Dropping to his knees without grace, Daryl rips the bandana from his pocket. In most circumstances he would care more about the cleanliness of the scrap of fabric, but in his urgency he doesn’t bother checking. All that matters at the moment is getting something around your wrist to staunch the flow of blood. Tightly, perhaps too tight for your comfort, Daryl binds your injured wrist with his own trembling hands.

“Come on, Y/N,” Daryl’s words come out as a pained growl, fingers traveling up your neck in search of your pulse. A short lived wave of relief crashes over him when he feels the still steady beating of your heart. Having a pulse was good, but it didn’t guarantee that you were out of the woods.

Rough, calloused fingers brushing against your cheeks slowly coaxes you back to the realm of consciousness. Worried crystal blue eyes peer back into your eyes the moment you convince your eyelids to flutter open. Perhaps there is life after death. Why else would the man you’ve been secretly pining over for so long be kneeling in front of you? But then the pain returns and hits you like a sack of bricks. Of course, it would be far too good to be true to think you had made it to heaven. A swift and peaceful death would be too much to ask for.

“Daryl?” Your voice is thick as if from sleep, a dull ache beating at your throat.

“I’m here,” the archer shuffles closer, open palms moving to cup your cheeks as his thumbs stretch to the corners of your eyes as if it somehow would help keep them from closing again. “Stay with me, sunshine.”

There is a soft fluttering in your heart at the gentle tenderness the normally gruff archer seems to display in this moment of darkness. So unlike your previous interactions of the day. A sad smile paints your lips as you feel the need to rest once again pulling at your senses.

“You have such beautiful eyes,” you can’t keep back a half giggle half content sigh. “For what it’s worth... I love you. I care for you... Always have.”

With a trembling hand, you reach up with your blood stained appendage to stroke the archer’s cheek, leaving a trail of scarlet in its wake. For a moment you swear you can see unshed tears welling up behind those crystal blue orbs.

“I. Love. You,” you hope to drive the message home. If anything, Daryl needs to know that he is capable of being loved, that he is worth something.

When your eyes snap closed, the archer lets out an undisguisable sound of protest as he attempts to keep you from slipping away from him. Pulling you to him, Daryl presses you tight into his chest and holds you there for a tense moment. Then you are lifted up and cradled against his chest and supported by his arms. Carrying you back to the infirmary seems to take an eternity, though only because Daryl knows that your life's on the line. Sweat clings to the archer’s skin as he is finally easing your limp frame onto the bed Hershel already has prepared for you. Stricken with shock, the archer can do little more than stand beside the bed with a feeling of numbness as he finally pulls away from you. Only the nudge at his shoulder from Hershel breaks him from his stupor.

“Daryl. Daryl, I need you here with me son,” there is a sense of urgency in the older man’s voice, yet he manages to stay calm and collected. “Tell me how you found him.”

Spying the blood soaked bandana around your wrist, Hershel presses two fingers to your neck in search of your pulse. It is still there beating slow but steady. Now it is the matter of doing what he can to keep it that way.

“In one of the empty cell blocks,” Daryl is quick to answer, watching Hershel’s every move intently. “Bleedin’ from the wrist there,” he points to the fabric Hershel is slowly unwrapping. “Had little blue pills all over the floor around him. Managed to keep him awake for about a minute or two before he was like this.”

A sigh leaves Hershel. “Do you know how many he took?” Daryl responds with a shake of his head. “Let’s hope not enough. We don’t have anything on hand to treat a beta blocker overdose.”

Tense silence washes over the room as the archer begins to anxiously pace back and forth across the concrete floor. He hates this feeling. Like he is powerless, useless to do anything to help you. But he doesn’t know enough about medical shit to be of any help. He would just be in the way. So he just has to place all his trust in that Hershel will do his best for you.

“Y/N is a lucky young man,” Hershel hums as your wound is exposed to the world and wiped clean with a damp towel. “He hit a vein instead of an artery. Bleeds slower.” In fact, part of the wound is already beginning to clot and slow the flow of blood leaking out of you. “Appears he also managed to go without causing any severe nerve or tendon damage. Indeed a lucky man.”

Glancing over Hershel’s shoulder, the archer considers the wound, stunned to only see a wound no longer than an inch and a quarter. How could something so small have the potential to cause such damage? The time it took between Hershel tying off the few stitches and securing a fresh clean bandage around your wrist was miniscule.

“I’ve done what I can,” Hershel begins to clear away the supplies, cleaning up the impromptu workstation. “Physically, he will be alright,” the older man turns to fixate Daryl with a particular look. “Psychologically, he may still need some help. Y/N is going to need you, Daryl.”

Sucking in a much needed breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, Daryl gives a wordless yes as he fights the feeling of tears wanting to tickle at his eyes. As Hershel leaves the room Daryl continues to pace the floor for a few tense moments before he drops into a chair he pulls up alongside the bed.

It seems like hours that Daryl sits beside your bed, eventually reaching to pull your hand to rest in his lap. Eventually you begin to stir in the bed, making soft groaning noises as your face scrunches up in discomfort. Hopeful, the archer squeezes your hand ever so slightly in hopes to coax you further back to him. Blinking a few times you manage to return to the land of the living. Even the dull lighting of the prison hurts your eyes, but you focus on pushing past it.

“Hey,” is all you hear from your side as you finally take note of a firm hold on your hand.

Forcing your head to turn, you feel a pause in the beating of your heart as you see none other than Daryl gazing back at you with a look of pained fondness. Why was he here? Why was he looking at you that way? What happened? And then it all comes rushing back to you. The pills, the arguments, the blood...and Daryl finding you with tears hiding behind his eyes.

Before you can say anything, Daryl breaks the silence. “I’m sorry,” there is regret dripping from his voice as he stares back at you. “Hershel told me...about what the pills are for. I’m real sorry, I shouldn’t have been so hard on ya without knowin’... And I don’t expect ya to just forgive me. But I didn’t ever want to hurt you like this.”

“I forgive you,” you blurt out without a thought. It was never in question that you would forgive him, people make mistakes all the time without thinking about it. And, you knew that Daryl would truly want to cause anyone pain or distress on purpose. “Just...don’t do it again please?”

He nods simply. For a while, you think that is the end of the conversation. You glance down at the bandages wrapped tight around your wrist and can only assume Hershel took care of you. Despite the circumstances, you are grateful. Some things just happen for a reason. The world must still have some purpose for you.

“Look,” Daryl lets out a sigh after a long moment and turns his gaze to your hand still in his lap. “Ya know I’m not real good with this shit, but I’m tryin’. But...I like bein’ with you, caring for you. I’m a fool for not sayin’ nothin’ sooner.” There is a long pause of silence, you ever so patiently waiting for his next words with bated breath. “But, if you’ll have me...I’d like to be your fool.”

A new pain blooms in your heart, but not in an unwelcome way. Rather, you feel your very being ache in that moment for Daryl. But also for yourself. It is hard to fight against what you know and is your comfort, no matter how much you want what’s waiting just on the other side.

Sensing the archer’s growing unease at your lack of answer you finally part your lips. “I’d love nothing more, Daryl. I’ve sorta been hoping for a long time that you might feel that way,” feeling shy, you try to push away the heat rising up your cheeks.

Silence that is not quite comfortable, but not quite awkward fills the room as both of you look at anything around the room besides each other. It will be a while before there is a sort of comfortable ease in this newly formed relationship. Neither of you really knows how to do this, but you know that it is worth it as you feel Daryl gently squeeze your hand that still rests within his. Pink dusts his cheeks as he continues to look at the wall beside you, but there is an innocent smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

#daryl dixon x ftm reader #daryl dixon x trans reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #walking dead fanfiction

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trashcanband4 · 1 year ago

Text

Torn Ch. 9

Masterlist

Pairing: DarylxOc. Eventual DarylxOcxRick. Setting: The Green Farm. Warnings: Mentions of substance abuse. A/N: Sorry for any typos or mistakes.

Cassie woke to the sound of birds chirping outside the tent and the feel of Daryl pulling her hips back into his before he brushed her hair off of her neck. A soft smile graced her lips when he started pressing soft, sleepy kisses over her shoulder and up to her ear. "Mornin'." She greeted keeping her eyes closed, unwilling to torture them with the morning light just yet.

"Mornin'." He whispered back in her ear, sending chills over her skin. Wanting to be chest to chest she turned to face him. Seeing that her eyes were still closed he brushed her nose with his, giving her an idea of their proximity to one another. She smiled at the gesture before she caught his bottom lip between hers and pressed her hand to his chest as his cupped her cheek.

The kiss deepened for a moment before it slowed then broke and she pulled back, opening her eyes to look into his. "How'd you sleep?" She asked with a look down at the bandage on his side.

"Alright I guess." He answered before things fell comfortably quiet for a few minutes. Lost in thought she slipped her finger over one of the raised scars on his chest. “You ever gonna ask ‘bout ‘em?” Daryl asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

“I figured you’d tell me when you wanted me to know.” she answered, not looking up at him. “Besides, I’m afraid you'll tell me it was Merle that did this to you."

“What would you say if I told you it was Merle?” he asked.

“I’d say I’m glad that he got left on that rooftop.” she answered then looked up at him. “And I’d hate to mean that because, while I never cared for him, I know you loved him.”

Daryl just looked into her eyes for a second before he slipped his hand over her cheek and pressed a kiss to her lips. “It wasn’t him.” she raised her brows in a silent question. “It was my old man,” he admitted. “He was a mean some bitch, especially when he was drunk’.” Not knowing what to say, Cassie just wrapped her arm around him, hugging him, wishing she were better with words. “Aren’t you gonna say you're sorry? ’s what most people would say.”

“It sucks that you had to go through that, but I’m not going to say I’m sorry. Saying sorry implies that I pity you, which I don't.” she dropped her eyes to his chest. “No one likes to be pitied. It’s like a freaking boot to the back of the head when you’re already laying face first in the mud.”

He got the feeling she was speaking from experience. “Back at the quarry, when Andrea wouldn’t leave Amy’s side, you said, 'if you've never watched the life drain out of a loved one’s eyes then you don't know what she's going through'.” he pointed out. She’d forgotten she’d even mentioned it. “Who were you talking about?”

“My mom.” she answered as she sat up and moved around to face him, her eyes on her hands that fiddled with the hem of her shorts.

“How’d she die?” he asked.

“Cancer…when I was twelve.” she answered. “It started out as breast cancer then spread to her sternum, clavicle, spine, lungs. Nothing slowed it down or stopped it, eventually her body just…shut down and she slipped away.” She zoned out as her mind went back to when she was just a child, sitting by her mothers hospital bed, watching as the life left her mothers eyes. Even though the heart monitor didn't flatline, in that moment she knew deep down her mother was gone. Then the nurse explained that her mother was, in fact, gone and the only reason her heart continued to beat was because of the pacemaker. Not wanting to accept it Cassie cried and argued, insisting that her mother was still alive. “But hey, at least she’s not suffering anymore.” she said as she blinked out of the daze and shook her head.

Daryl watched her grab a brush out of her bag and start brushing her hair. “Guess we all have scars, some people’s are just easier to see than others.”

She stopped brushing her hair and just looked at him to see him give her a shrug while chewing on the inside of his lip. In a flash she put down the brush, leaned forward, braced herself with her hands on each side of his head and caught his lips in a kiss. He instantly cupped the back of her head and lifted his, deepening the kiss before it eventually slowed and broke. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his. At that moment she found herself wanting to say those three little words. You know, the ones that when said at the wrong time could topple the delicate tower of a new relationship and send it crashing to the ground, shattering it beyond repair. Instead she opened her eyes and gave him a smile as she nuzzled his nose with hers, getting a quiet chuckle out of him before she sat back up and returned to detangling her wavy locks. “How’s the side?”

“Hurts like a some bitch.” he answered with a look down at the bandage.

“Aren't there painkillers in Merle's stash?” she asked with a jerk of her head at his motorcycle outside.

“Yeah, but I don’t mess with 'em.” he answered so she left it at that and tucked her brush back into her bag, deciding to leave her hair down today since it was nice outside and she knew Daryl liked it. She laid down beside him on her stomach, propped up by her forearms. Daryl cupped her cheek in his hand, running his thumb over her lips. “These are all I need to dull the pain.” A touched smile pulled at her lips before she pecked a kiss to the pad of his thumb. "Come ‘ere, Angel Eyes.”

She couldn’t help but giggle as she scooted up and caught his lips in a slow, tender kiss. Daryl threaded his fingers into her loose waves, sending tingles through her when his nails lightly scratched her scalp.

“Hey, Cass, up and at ‘em.” Shane’s voice sounded out from outside the tent. “We got a lot to do today.”

Cassie sighed and pulled back, looking at Daryl’s disappointed face. “As much as I would love to stay and be your painkiller, I can't. We're having gun training then going searchin'.”

“Fine.” He pecked her one more time then dropped his head back to rest on a pillow. “Go.”

“Want me to bring you some breakfast?” she asked before she stood up.

“Na, I’m good for now.” he answered.

"Kay." She answered. He watched her double check that she had her knife. "Get some rest." She told him with a mock serious look and a point of her finger.

"Yes ma'am." He grumbled, and gave her a salute making her softly laugh as she ducked out of the tent.

TWDTWDTWD

Cassie, Rick, Jimmy and Shane stood around Carol's SUV talking about gun training and whether or not they should check a nearby housing addition for Sophia when Glenn came over with a bushel basket of beef jerky and peaches. They all took a peach and thought Glenn was going to hand out fruit to the rest of the camp, but he stopped. He looked at Rick like he wanted to say something, but remained silent as he looked at Lori then back to Rick. "My binoculars." Shane reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, yeah." Glenn awkwardly put down the basket then handed Shane the binoculars that had been hanging over his shoulder. "Okay. Bye." He picked the basket up and made a hasty getaway.

Rick, Shane and Cassie exchanged looks. "Okay then." Cassie drawled as they all got back to task.

TWDTWDTWD

Rick, Lori, Shane, Dale and Cassie stood around the camp. Shane had caught Carl with a gun in his possession. Lori looked up from the gun in her hand to Cassie. "How the hell did this happen?"

"How should I know?" Cassie asked with a frown at Lori.

"You're supposed to be helping me keep an eye on him." She answered.

Cassie opened her mouth to tell her off, but she noticed Carl sitting nearby. So instead she took in a calming deep breath and dropped her eyes to the ground, restraining herself.

"It was my fault." Dale spoke up. "I let him into the r.v. He said he wanted a walkie. Did you send him for one?" He asked Rick.

"So on top of everything else, he lied?" Lori asked. "What is he thinking?" Rick who just shrugged.

"He wants to learn how to shoot. He asked me to teach him." Shane spoke up. "Now, it's none of my business, but I'm happy to teach him. It's your call."

"Well, I'm not comfortable with it." Lori laughed with a shake of her head.

Cassie bit her lips closed in an attempt to keep her opinions to herself, Shane sighed and Rick placed his hands on his hips, giving Lori a tilted head look.

"Oh, don't make me out to be the unreasonable one here." Lori said, noticing the looks Cassie and Shane were giving her. "Rick?" She asked with a look at him.

"I have my concerns too, but-" Rick tried to answer.

"There's no but. He was just shot." Lori interrupted him, raising her voice. Cassie's nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath but she managed to keep her mouth shut. "He's just back on his feet and he wants a gun?"

"Better than him being afraid of them." Rick reasoned. "There are guns in camp for a reason he should learn to handle them safely."

"I don't want my kid walking around with a gun." Lori argued.

"But how can you defend that?" Rick asked. "You can't let him go around without protection."

"He's as safe as he'll ever be right here." Lori said with a look around camp.

"Yet he managed to steal a gun right here, under your nose." Cassie said, a comment accidentally slipping. Lori rolled her eyes as she looked at Cassie. Cassie bit her lips closed and gave her a look that said she wasn't sorry.

Lori just shook her head as she looked back at Rick. "Look, everything you're saying makes perfect sense. It feels wrong. I mean I didn't feel good about him following you out into the woods. And I wish I'd said something. I should have gone with my gut."

"He's growing up, thank God." Rick pointed out. "We've got to start treating him more like an adult."

"Then he needs to act like one." Lori snapped. "He's not mature enough to handle a gun."

"I'm not gonna play with it mom." Carl spoke up as he walked over to stand beside Cassie. "It's not a toy. I'm sorry I disappointed you, but I want to look for Sophia and I want to defend our camp. I can't do that without a gun." Cassie placed her hand on Carl’s back out of instinct.

Rick turned to Lori. "Shane is a good instructor. I've seen him teach kids younger than Carl." He told her then looked at Shane.

Cassie noticed Rick's eyes slip to her and give her a look that asked her to back him up. "He really is, surprisingly.” Cassie spoke up. “He gave me a refresher course so I could get certified in this state."

Rick gave Cassie a super discreet nod of thanks before he and Lori stared each other down.

After a few seconds Lori walked over to Carl and grabbed his chin in her hand, looking him pointedly in the eyes. "You will take this seriously and you will behave responsibly. And if I hear from anyone in this camp that you are not living up to our expectations-"

"He won't let you down." Rick interrupted her.

Carl looked at Rick then back to his mom. "yeah." Lori just looked from Rick to Carl and gave the boy a nod before she walked away.

TWDTWDTWD

After the main lesson on how guns work, where the safety's at, etc. the instructors, i.e. Rick, Shane, Cassie and T-Dog observed the students from behind. "Thank you, for earlier." Rick said, from where he stood beside Cassie, his hands on his hips.

"No problem." Cassie replied. "You know I'll always have your back."

Rick gave her a smile. "Yeah I know, but that's not what I'm thanking you for." His words made her give him a curious frown across her shoulder. "You wanted to blow up on Lori, call her out on her crap. I know the only reason you didn't is because you didn't want Carl to hear it." Cassie just gave him a soft smile, not knowing what to say. “I don't know why Lori tried to blame you for Carl stealing that gun, but she was wrong. You’re not our nanny anymore.”

As she turned her eyes back to the students she noticed Shane paying special attention to Andrea. "Could he be any more disgusting?" She thought out loud.

"You know Shane…" Rick sighed.

"At least this one's not married." She commented without thinking, then realized what she'd said. "Hey, Beth-" she spoke up, getting the young girl's attention as she started over to help her with aiming. In all reality Beth was doing an okay job. Cassie just needed an excuse to get away from Rick before he could ask what she was talking about.

TWDTWDTWD

Later that evening after getting in from searching for Sophia, Cassie sat on the floor of the tent. Her guitar in her lap as she played a lazy tune. “Sing for me?” Daryl asked, his voice low and gravely. She just dropped her gaze to the floor of the tent. “Hey,” she looked at him, “I’ve already heard ya sing. Ain’t like you can curse me twice.”

She took in a deep breath and blew it out through her nose. “Anything in particular you wanna hear?” she asked, giving in. He just shook his head no. So she started strumming a tune on the guitar. “White lips, pale face, breathing in the snowflakes, burnt lungs, sour taste.” Daryl watched the way her fingers strummed the guitar, the way her loose waves fell around her shoulder and how her brow creased when she hit certain notes. “The worst things in life come free to us 'cause we're just under the upper hand. And go mad for a couple grams. She don't wanna go outside tonight. And in a pipe she flies to the motherland or sells love to another man. It's too cold outside for Angels to fly. For an-”

“Cassie.” Rick’s voice outside the tent cut her off. So she set the guitar aside and moved onto her hands and knees, sticking her head outside the door flap. “A word, please.” She could tell by his hands on his hips and the deep crease in his brow that something was seriously wrong.

“Of course.” she replied as she stood up and turned to Daryl. “Hold that note?” she asked, hating that Rick was interrupting, but understanding that he obviously needed to talk. Daryl gave her a nod so she left the tent. “What’s up?” she asked with a frown at his stiffened stature.

Rick just looked around at all the tents, and the people sitting around the campfire. “Take a walk with me?” he asked so she gave him a nod. They walked in silence until they came to a pond out in the middle of a field, she noticed several bushes of Cherokee roses growing nearby. It was only when they stopped, standing on the pier, that he asked, “Did you know?”

Cassie just squinted at him in the setting sun with a shake of her head. “Know what?”

“About Lori and Shane?” he could tell by the way her face fell that she did. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, clearly pissed.

“I wanted to.” she answered, feeling ashamed of herself. “But how was I supposed to tell you?” she asked, her eyes watering. “You love her, in spite of all the horrible things I’ve heard her yell at you. I couldn’t make myself destroy that.”

Rick walked over to a stone bench that sat next to the peer and sat down, placing his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees. Cassie walked over and sat down beside him. “She’s pregnant.”

Cassie just stared at the back of his hands that cupped his face for a minute. “What?” the question came out as a whisper.

“I found Plan B boxes in our tent when I got back to camp today.” he told her as he sat up and looked at her across his shoulder. “She took ‘em, but changed her mind and threw ‘em up.”

Cassie felt like her brain was short circuiting. There was so much she wanted to say and ask, but none of it was helpful or appropriate. "I…I don't know what to say…" she admitted with a shake of her head. "I wish I could say I'm surprised,"

"But you're not." He finished for her, turning his eyes to the ground.

"Not really, no." She answered. "Circumstances being what they are, I kinda doubt either of you used protection when you were with her." She pointed out, earning a look from Rick. "What? You hear and see things you wish you didn't when you live in such close proximity to people."

Rick just sighed and rested his head in his hands again. "What am I gonna do?"

Cassie thought about it, trying her best to find the right words to ease his worry. "Does…does Lori know who the father is? Like…how long has she known she's pregnant?" She asked in an attempt to gather enough information to make suggestions.

"I don't know, she didn't say." He answered without picking up his head. "But even if it's his…it ain't his."

Cassie just frowned at him, torn between understanding and being pissed that Shane might be robbed of the chance to care for his child…again. "He's gonna think it's his when he finds out. He's cocky like that. And I've seen the way he still looks at her…like a man obsessed."

"I know…I've seen it too." He admitted as he sat up and turned to face her on the bench. "I just couldn't let myself believe it."

“Who all knows…about Lori’s…condition?” she asked, awkwardly.

“Just me, you and Glenn.” he answered.

“So Shane doesn’t know?” she asked with a frown.

“No and we’d like to keep it that way.” Rick answered. “Glenn only knows because he got her the pills.”

“I can’t believe she would take those pills without talking to someone first.” Cassie scoffed. “Not that they would have done anything even if she didn’t throw them up. That’s not how Plan B works.” Things fell quiet for a moment, both of them lost in thought. "At least we're somewhere safe and we have Hershel to deliver the baby when the time comes." She was trying to be hopeful for his sake. But his face fell at her words. "What?"

"Now that Carl's better, Hershel wants us to leave." Rick told her, reluctantly.

"Does he not understand what he'll be sending us out into?" She asked herself more than him.

"I really don't think he does…" Rick answered, seeing fear in her eyes at the thought of being back out on the road. "Hey," he cupped her cheek in his hand, making her look into his sky blue eyes, "you don't have to worry. I'll keep you safe. I won't let him kick us off this farm. I'll talk to him, tell him Lori's pregnant, maybe it will convince him to let us stay."

Cassie's eyes softened as she slipped her hand over his then took it off her cheek to hold it in both of hers. "There you go again…" she said with a tilt of her head.

"There I go again…what?" He asked with a confused shake of his head.

"You put the weight of the world on your shoulders." She said with a furrow or her brow as she gave his hand a squeeze. "You don't have to." He let out a shaky breath as he dropped his eyes to his hand in hers. "And you don't have to shoulder it alone. Let me come with you to talk to Hershel."

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think that would go over well." He said with a small smirk as he looked up at her. "You haven't exactly made the best first impression."

"So I'll watch my mouth and keep a level head." He countered and he deadpanned. "Then bring Lori with you to talk to him. She’s gotta be terrified of the idea of having a baby on the road. Maybe, if he sees that, he’ll think twice about making us leave." He just narrowed his eyes in thought before dropping them back down to his hand that she still held in hers. “Whatever you need, however I can help…just tell me.”

“Okay.” he said with a nod. Almost absentmindedly, he placed his hand over hers, slipping his thumb over the back of one of them, sending sparks through the skin. Things fell quiet again as they sat there like that, watching the sun setting over the tree line. “Wait, how do you know how plan B works?” Rick asked, curiously.

“My mother was sixteen when she got pregnant.” she pointed out. “There’s a reason I know exactly how to put a condom on a guy, how to get birth control and how to get my hands on Plan B if the occasion ever called for it.” she explained. “Not that I ever did, or have, needed any of that.”

“Wait, so you’re still…” Rick started to ask, but couldn’t make himself say the word.

“A virgin?” she asked with raised brows and he nodded. “Yeah. Why do you look so surprised?

“You hear and see things you wish you didn't when you live in such close proximity to people.” Rick said using her words from before.

“Oh.” she said with a blush as she dropped her eyes. “We’re just fooling around…taking it slow for now.”

“I don’t need to know.” Rick replied with a shake of his head that told her he was uncomfortable. “It’s bad enough I know you asked Glenn to get you condoms.”

“Wha-How do you know that? I specifically asked Glenn to keep it to himself.” she asked loudly.

“Yeah, I know, I overheard you tell him that the last thing you needed was for me or Shane to find out.” he answered and she gave him a glare. “He was headed to a pharmacy. Given your history, that only Shane and I know about…I was concerned.” she just stared at him. “I know it was an invasion of privacy, but-.”

“It’s fine.” she interrupted him.

“You’re angry.” he assumed.

“I’m not angry.” she argued. “And as always I thank you for looking out for me, but I do my best to forget about that particularly horrendous part of my past.”

“And I just dredged it up,” he said with an understanding nod. “I’m sorry. Come here.” He motioned her toward him so she scooted over and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her forehead on the side of his shoulder. He hugged her back, tucking his face into her neck while one hand rested on her lower back and the other embedded itself into her soft waves. His fingertips massaging her scalp, ever so slightly, sent more sparks throughout her, but she forced herself to ignore it. The hug lasted a full minute at least before he pulled back, keeping his hands on her waist as he looked into her deep depths, the setting sun making them appear more orange than brown.

For the first time she could see how scared Rick was. He was scared of losing Lori, of how Shane would react, what this would do to the group and what would happen if he couldn't convince Hershel to let them stay. "It will be okay. We'll figure something out."

Hearing those words from her, words of reassurance, which was something he hardly got from Lori, was like a breath of fresh air. And in that moment he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. But, as his eyes slipped down to her lips he was reminded that not only was he married, but Cassie had Daryl. The man who’d swooped in in his absence and taken charge of Cassie’s well being. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself. Over the past few weeks he’d learned just how capable she was, all on her own. She didn’t need anyone, but she’d chosen Daryl and he was waiting for her back at camp.

Cassie was all too aware of him staring at her lips. He stared long enough to make her realize exactly what he was thinking about. And a part of her wanted him too. So many times she’d thought about what his lips would feel like on hers. How it would feel for his hands to caress her skin. But now? Now it would be even more wrong than it would have been before…back when she would play out the classic husband sleeping with the babysitter porn scenario in her head at night. Because now she had Daryl and the thought of hurting him, of cheating on him, made her sick to her stomach and brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back while Rick continued to stare at her lips. When they were gone, she spoke. “Rick?”

He dropped his eyes to the overgrown grass and cleared his throat. “You should get back to camp.” he told her with a jerk of his chin in the right direction. “Before Daryl comes looking for you.”

She stood up and took a few steps before she stopped and turned back to him. “You should come too. It’s getting late.”

“Na, I’ll be right behind you. I just…I need a few minutes.” he told her, not even glancing up.

TWDTWDTWD

"What was that about?" Daryl asked as he watched Cassie sit back down on the floor of their tent.

“He just needed to vent.” she answered as she picked up the guitar.

“I’n’t that what his wife is for?” he asked, jealousy clear in his tone. “Or his best friend?”

“Usually, but it’s kind of hard to vent to those people when they’re the ones he needs to vent about.” she answered as she started absentmindedly strumming a tune. “He found out about Shane and Lori.”

“Oh.” he said, realizing now he had no reason to be jealous.

“Yeah.” she sighed. “But at least now I don’t have to deal with the guilt of keeping that secret from him.” Seeing that the sun had almost completely sunk behind the tree tops, Cassie set the guitar aside, reached into the bag behind her and pulled out a shirt, only to realize it wasn’t her bag, but Daryl’s. She held a worn, brown plaid, button up shirt with the sleeves cut off in her hand. Getting an idea she stood up on her knees and zipped up the windows of the tent.

He could make out her silhouette and a few details in the dim lighting as he watched her strip out of her tank top and jean shorts, replacing them with his shirt that she buttoned the middle 3 buttons on. He admired her body as she sat down and leaned to the side, striking a match that she used to light the oil lamp that sat on the small stool in the corner of the tent. As the tent brightened she turned to look at him. “Fuck if that ain’t the hottest shit I’ve ever seen.” she just dropped her eyes with a blush and brushed her loose waves behind her ear. “Come ‘ere, Angel Eyes.” he told her with a jerk of his head.

His fingers threaded into her hair at her temple as she leaned down and caught his lips in a lingering kiss, humming when he lifted his head and deepened it. As they kissed she straddled his hips, being careful not to hurt his side. Daryl's hands grabbed her hips, rocking her into him. A sigh left his lips as she kissed down his jawline to his ear “God I want you.” She whispered.

"I want you too, bot like this." He whispered as she kissed his neck. She pulled back, looking into his eyes with disappointment in hers. "I ain't gonna have your first time be shit because I'm too crippled to do it right." her face turned pouty. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth the wait.”

“You better.” she told him with a playful glare that made him smile before he caught her lips with his.

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heathermason6060 · 3 months ago

Text

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.2

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: Reader gives friendships a try, and the first signs of Daryl changing start showing after unexpected tragedy.

Notes: I love writing Merle and early season Daryl, I hope they're in character!

"I'm ten seconds away from blowing his goddamn brains out."

"Not worth the wasted bullets." Daryl watched as Shane stalked back up towards the Greene house. You scoffed and rolled your eyes when you saw him stopping himself from slamming the door, at least needing to respect Hershel gave him some restraint from being a complete piece of shit. You weren't sure how long that would last though.

"Can't fucking stand these people Daryl. He looked like he wanted to kill me."

"Ya called 'em a homewrecker. The hell'd you expect?"

The days would go by without pause, no matter how you all screamed and cried for just one minute, one minute to get it together and breathe. Everything was constantly changing, and it ended up making you colder.

The Greene farm was a nice place. You enjoyed the chores you took on there, you got to work with the horses, the cows, and the old barn cat. He'd end up passing away after a while, which would have really upset you if it hadn't been such a peaceful death, he just fell asleep with a stomach full of deer stew and never woke up.

Andrea's strange half admiration and half disturbed likeness to you strengthened at the time on the farm, which you didn't know how to handle. You'd always wanted a girlfriend, ever since your first one in 6th grade ended your friendship. Your mother had shown up to pick you up from school, so high on Percocet she could barely keep her eyes open. She rear-ended the father of your friend, he got pissed, she spit in his face, and he called the police. ‘My daddy says I can't hang out with trailer trash like you anymore.’ She'd told you the next day.

You secretly liked the way Andrea looked up to you. It was nice having a woman think highly of you, or any adult for that matter. She would often ask for shooting practice, and you even let her try out your bow a few times.

She kind of fucked up your budding friendship when she shot Daryl. If you hadn't been so busy helping him get up into the house you would have shot her in her foot, and that's not an exaggeration. You wanted to stay up in that room with him until he fully healed, willing to sleep on the floor just so you'd be with him at all times, but the insecure fear of being seen as weak and clingy prevented you from doing so. You were out in the woods most of those days, hunting or killing any dead you ran across.

It was almost humiliating the way people would update you on Daryl’s condition. At first it was just Rick letting you know he’d be okay, but then it was Maggie and Hershel updating you on his eating habits, how much he ate, when he ate, he was only in bed for a couple of days, but it felt like weeks. Each time someone would tell you the miniscule details of his day you’d respond the same way, ‘Why’re you telling me? I’m not his mamma’. If you could look past the embarrassment of feeling like a worried child, you would be grateful.

Andrea unknowingly made it up to you when you heard her bitching at Lori in the kitchen once, apparently having enough of her ‘a woman's place is in the kitchen making life worth living, leave the guns to the men' spiel. You complimented her afterwards.

“Been real sick of that shit.” You had said as you loaded your Ruger pistol. “She's lucky it was you who said it, I think I would've punched that bitch in the face if she said that bullshit to me.”

Andrea was almost too stressed over the Beth situation to fully appreciate the gravity of your praise. She nodded as she looked over the field, eyes squinting against the bright afternoon sun, her arms crossed over her chest. “All my life I've heard that kind of thinking from men. It's different when it's a woman telling you that you're not worth the same as a man. Especially when said man lied about her husband being dead and got in her pants right after.”

You smirked, stuffing your gun into the back of your jeans as you looked her over. “Wanna go kill some dead people?”

“Oh, god.” She groaned dramatically. “That's the best idea I've heard all week.”

After you lost the farm, you wound up at an old prison. That was one of the rare times you had allowed yourself to try and be positive, and forced yourself to make friends, although it was obvious all your relationships were strained. Andrea was the only person who had ever made an effort to get to know you, and she was gone.

Shane’s death didn’t affect you much, truthfully you were glad Rick killed him. The constant tension and heated arguments drained you just as much as Dale’s annoying humanitarianism. You attempted being friends with Lori, Hershel, Carol and Beth, despite the young girl being your polar opposite. She was soft, pretty, sweet and bubbly, you were hard, mean, vulgar and distant.

Which might be one of the reasons your relationship with her had started to work. Beth saw you as a challenge, like a mean feral cat, and deep down you saw her as a possible redemption. If you could become friends with Beth, the sweetest girl with the kindest heart, you could do it with anyone.

Lori never trusted you, so you never got far with her. She would look at you with this look on her face, like you were always seconds away from cutting her baby out of her stomach or some twisted shit. You had cursed her out once for said expressions, calling her a stuck-up bitch who thinks every woman that isn't her is beneath her. She died a couple days later, and a part of you that you couldn't push away felt like shit about it, for a very long time.

The whole Governor shit was a pain in your ass. But it was a blessing in disguise, because he was the reason you were reunited with Merle.

“I want to come.” You stood your ground, grabbing your Ruger AR-15 from its spot on your cell wall.

“I said no, we’ve got enough concerns, we don't need to be worrying about you.” Rick tried to speak in a hushed tone, his intentions good, not wanting you to feel embarrassed if the others heard you being denied. They knew you seethed at the prospect of being told what to do. You didn't work well with others, that was glaringly obvious.

“I don’t need you to worry about me.” You hissed, tugging the heavy gun over your back so the strap dug into your shoulder.

Rick repeated your name, using his angry father tone, and that seemed to work. Your shoulders drooped and you growled out a few insults under your breath. You missed when the group members had more say in the way things were. Rick had become more authoritarian after Lori died, and it never affected you until that day.

When they got back you were waiting at the door, pacing like a mother in those movies whose children had stayed out too late. Your eyes brightened as they filed into the prison, you saw Maggie and Glenn were back, and Michonne had returned as well.

Your anxious smile slowly faded as the door closed behind them, counting two missing bodies.

“Where…?” You breathed, looking between Rick and Maggie, your heart racing.

Rick started having a goddamn mental breakdown after that, screaming at the walls and pointing his gun at things only visible to him. Tyrese, the newcomer, and his group fled, and a part of you considered it as well. If Daryl and Merle were dead, you had no reason to stay. Especially not with Rick behaving like a fucking maniac and no one speaking to you.

True to your nature, you abandoned the prison in search of the Dixons. You knew they couldn’t have truly left, they would never do that, they'd never leave and forget you. Especially Daryl. He had promised to you one night after you fully secured the prison, that he was the one thing in your life that would never change. He’d never die, he’d never leave, he would always be there. Not in those exact words, of course, but in his own way.

He had stayed true to his promise. You found the two of them on their way to the prison, traveling through the same trails you’d originally used to find the place.

“Thought I’d never see you two assholes again.” The apocalypse had made you more skilled at hiding your true emotions. You came off as playfully irritated, a contrast to the way you were barely keeping tears at bay.

“Awww,” Merle teased in a condescending tone, faking a pout, “You miss us?”

“No. Rick’s group makes you seem like a peach though.”

“Our group.” Daryl’s voice had taken on a strange edge as he walked ahead of you down the trail. “Those are our people now.”

You glanced at Merle to see he was outwardly displaying your same reaction, rolling his eyes and silently mimicking his brother's words.

No matter how happy you were to see the two of them, Daryl’s reply echoed in your head for a long time. He meant what he said, you could tell by the way he spoke. He was changing, you hadn’t noticed it until that day, he wasn’t the same Daryl from Atlanta, the Daryl you knew. You swallowed your retort and followed him back to the prison.

The Governor shit was really a pain in your ass after that day, making your earlier experiences a walk in the park. Through the tense days you found yourself around Merle more, the two of you discussing the prospect of just getting the fuck out of there in hushed voices, despite you both knowing Daryl would never abandon Ricks group. It was like he had some sort of unknown obligation to them, something you couldn't decode for the life of you, no matter how hard you tried.

“You're gettin’ real close to bein’ a bonafide pussy, boy.” Merle had said one day, shoving his finger in Daryl’s face. You stayed silent as they argued, biting at the soft skin inside your cheek.

“Why? Cause I ain't jus’ lookin’ out for myself no more? Cause I actually give a shit about these people?” Daryl standing up to Merle wasn’t a familiar sight, and it made you feel emotions you really weren’t comfortable with.

“It’s making you weak, brother.” Merle urged, nearly slicing his own scalp when he went to put his hands on his head, the heat of the moment causing him to forget his right hand was now a weapon. “Can't you see it? I ain’t gonna let you die for these sheep.”

Daryl would soon come to regret his last interaction with his brother. You, on the other hand, were lucky enough to have had some peaceful final moments with him before he vanished.

“Dude, that's my fucking bed!” You shoved Merle away from your mattress, groaning when you saw it shredded and ruined. You’d have to go to the other cellblock and get another, if he hadn’t already paid those cells a visit.

Merle sat on the floor breathing heavily through his mouth, resting an arm over his propped up knee.

“The hell you do that for?” You grumbled, kicking a chunk of bedding out of your cell and into the hallway.

“Hopin’ to find some contraband.”

“Dude, you could’ve just asked me. Holy shit.” You grabbed one of your bags from the corner of your room and began to dig through it, finally pulling out Merle’s old stash bag. HIs eyes lit up and he practically jumped for joy, snatching it out of your hands.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” He grabbed your face with his hand and noisily kissed your cheek, making you groan and shove him off. “Oh sweetheart. Whooo! Daryl know about this?”

“No, didn’t want him to know. I’m better at making shit last than him.” You replied. Daryl didn't like drugs the way Merle did, he had his run in with meth and its consequences and he was strong enough to quit and not touch it again. Other drugs were a different story though, you suspected the speed and painkillers would be gone by now if he had known you were the one who stole it.

He fished out the group of smaller baggies he was looking for, full of various shades of white in different textures. He groaned like he just creamed his pants and leaned over, planting another dramatic smooch to your forehead.

You stayed with him on the floor of your cell as he got high, and eventually he left to go ‘clear out the walkers in the tombs’, something you were happy to sit out on. He told you to stay back and you laughed, teasing with a ‘it's all yours, tweaker’.

Even though your last moments with him were pleasant, you never forgave yourself for not accompanying him.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

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